As a 34 year old woman, I was working in the beauty/perfumery industry since I was 17. I have been known to “get high on my own supply”, but as I have poor impulse control and a short attention span, I implemented a one month rule before purchasing anything.
If I still think about something a month later, I truly prefer delayed gratification and I can purchase it without worrying about an impulse decision. If I forget about it, it wasn't anything special anyway.
Of course, my rules are made to be broken and I'd like to share those scents I just had to have, even if only to recreate that dopamine high from the top notes.
Some I didn't purchase right away, but they made an indelible impression on me and I couldn't forget about them for months and years.
AERIN – Waterlily Sun – Sunshine and happiness for me. I went to check out the Aerin line and this one I just knew, I didn't want to live without. Ever. Dazzling, bright and lovely scent.
Rituals – Happy Buddha – Another aptly named scent. Someone at fragrantica described it as “liquid luck” and “liquid happiness”. That's exactly what it is for me. Luckily it was an inexpensive scent (body mist), but my greedy little heart just had to have all the products from the collection. I continue to repurchase them year after year. It's what my house robe smells like, the scent my boyfriend associates with me when I'm gone.
Dusita – Erawan – This one... Blew. Me. Away. To me it's simply sunshine, happiness and freedom. So unique and original, it absolutely deserves all the superlatives and recognition it received.
FM - The Portrait of a Lady – I fell in love. Yes, it's all that, and then some. Yes, it's a masterpiece. Yes, it was godlessly expensive and I could barely afford the body cream. No, I never even opened it. I felt so guilty, I gave it to a friend as a Christmas present, in order to be able to sleep at night. I bought the perfume years later, when I could afford it and enjoy it fully.
L'Artisain Parfumeur – Arcana Rosa – A big, fat, red, wet, dirty rose in the dark... It sounds so gross and yet that is what it is. It's beautiful and irreplaceable. When I wear it I feel like the whole world went to sleep, faded away in the distance and I'm left all alone in a blissful fragrant darkness. I was lucky enough to receive the limited edition with the bee on the bottle and this is the only empty perfume bottle I intend to keep. (If I live long enough to finish the bottle, that is...)
Hermes – Le Jardin de Monsieur Li – Who is this monsieur, is he married, does he have a brother...? (Just kidding, don't tell my bf.) His garden is beautiful, I walk in it every summer, bottle after bottle. I love all the beautiful scents from the “Jardins” collection, it grew with me as a fragrance lover, but this one is my favorite.
Diptyque - Tam Dao EDT – I could live quite happily on rose and sandalwood alone. This one reminds me of a sandalwood necklace in the shape of a small elephant my mother had. Beautiful, sophisticated and yet familiar and comfortable. It's untouchable in it's effortless elegance. Another favorite summer scent for me. Do Son as an equally beautiful scent, but deeper, warm, mysterious and for those who prefer tuberose.
Tom Ford – Venetian Bergamote – I discovered this one the same day as I did the Waterlily Sun, so I told myself: “Ok, you need to chill on the TF for now...”. I didn't get this one for years, but I never forgot about it, it was just so beautiful to me. Gorgeous, not just smooth, “perfectly rounded” is what comes to mind.
Byredo – Mojave Ghost – Again just a simple, clear, sunshiny scent. I can't describe it, it just puts a smile on my face and simply makes me feel like everything's ok. I had to stop myself from jumping online and ordering it immediately, but it never really left my mind, so now it's a part of the team. Stays close to the skin, yet envelops me and reminds me of it's beauty as just what it was – a gift from me to me.
Marc Jacobs – Daisy – As a poor student I was babbling about this one so much, my father bought it for me as a present before I even had the chance to save for it. I knew it would be an incredibly successful bestseller, and knowing so many ladies love it and wear it never diminished my enjoyment.
Jo Malone – Wild Bluebell – A fleeting childhood memory of a dreamy summer field. You once played there and sadly you had to leave after a short vacation. Barely there, gone too soon, bittersweet, airy and nostalgic. I didn't have time to buy it immediately at the airport, but later I found a great deal on eBay.

He wasn’t a big man in stature, smaller than me, in fact, maybe 5’ 7”or so. Maybe just a hair less. But you didn’t notice it when in his presence. He always seemed much larger, and it came as a shock each time when you realized that his physical form didn’t match the tidal wave of his fierce spirit.
He was one of my heros. He’d fought with his Army unit throughout the Korea campaign. At one point he was put in for by his Commander, and received, a Bronze Star with V for valor for his actions during one contact with the enemy. He was awarded a Silver Star a month later after another engagement.
I learned of these not from him, but from another source. He never spoke of them to me, or to anyone else as far as I know, outside of immediate family.
So he was a considerable man in more ways than one.
He would chide me good-naturedly when I visited, when home on leave, for my decision to join the Marine Corps:
“Marines?! Bah! What a bunch of pussies! I remember when those assholes got themselves stranded at the Chosin. Beggin’ “Help us! Help us!” Then when it was over, sayin’ they hadn’t Needed any help! Cocky assholes! You should have joined the Army, OP!”
He’d cuss my ass out sometimes, when I’d done something he didn’t approve of or had made a decision that he thought was a mistake. I didn’t really mind. It was his way. If he took the time to yell and verbally kick your ass a little it was because he liked you. He wouldn’t waste his valuable time on you otherwise. He was like that with everyone he cared about.
Shortly after he died, I was in conversation with his former partner, the man who was handling his estate. “He was something else” the man replied at one point, in fond remembrance. “But he sometimes could be a little hard to take.”
“He had a .......forceful personality” I replied diplomatically.
“I guess that’s one way to put it” he had laughed. I had the impression that those weren’t exactly the first words that came to his mind when remembering Terrel.
He was an old-time mover and shaker. The guy seemed always to be moving, often doing two or three things at once even as he easily carried on a conversation. He usually standing rather than sitting behind his big mahogany desk as I lounged in comfort in the deep-seated client armchair in front of it.
Usually shaking somebody down in between business calls. He was a major benefactor and fundraiser for a world-renowned Children’s cancer research and treatment hospital. Had been part of the driving force behind its establishment, in fact, and had been there at the groundbreaking.
I remember one phone conversation that I was privy to . I had sat in front of his desk trying to keep from laughing as he ranted and raved at whoever was on the other end as he winked at me as he let the guy have it:
“That’s the best that you can do, you cheap-ass sonofabitch?! I gave you an interest-free loan for your start-up, you sniveling bastard! Now I come to you with my hat in my hand and my hand out and that’s the best that you can do?!”
Faintly-heart protestations on the other end of the line.
“Fuck that! That was Last year! We’re adding a new wing, God damn it!”
A pause to listen.
“Well, it Takes money, you cheap cocksucker! Now how much can I put you down for?!”
Brief intermission.
“Now, that’s more like it! And you better not try to back out on me, you piece of shit! Thanks, pal! Give my love to Emmaline.”
“Asshole!” he smiled fondly as he slammed down the receiver. “Now, how you been, OP?”
He had an old-fashioned brass spittoon on the floor beside his desk, and an ever-present crumpled pouch of Red Man would be found somewhere upon it among the scattered pens and stacks of paperwork. It was glaringly incongruous in the austere atmosphere of the large office with its dark wood furnishings and curtained windows, the heavy drapes tied back to let in slanted sunlight through half-closed Venetian blinds.
“Old habit, OP” he shrugged. “Picked it up years ago” he confided. “You couldn’t smoke on the front lines. You strike a match or light a cigarette at night, it could be seen for miles. Those bastards would walk shit in right on top of you.”
“Now what’s this I hear about you talking about buying a car?!” he continued, his voice once more rising. “You don’t Need a car, you dumb sonofabitch! You Need to put that money in the bank! Hell, give me power of attorney, I’ll invest that shit for you!”
Here we go again, I thought. Nothing for it but to get comfortable and ride out the storm, wait for him to calm down again. Sometimes it took a while. But that was Terrel.
He was my Mother’s lawyer. Theirs was a tempestuous relationship that spanned forty years. And they may well have been each the closest friend that the other had.
You wouldn’t know it if you were privy to their as often as not heated exchanges, as I had often been. They fought like cats and dogs. You would have sworn they were a long-time married couple both of whom realized their Union had been a mistake, but both too stubborn to give the other the satisfaction of being the first one to throw in the towel.
Some of their screaming matches bordered on the epic. There could be the occasional sound of something breaking or bouncing off the wall as she hurled some possession of his across the room, or directly at him.
She knocked the neatly stacked contents of his desk into a fluttering jumbled pile on the floor a time or two.
The language could swiftly become neither gentlemanly nor ladylike, and, in the throes of their heated pissed-off passion, neither of them gave a damn who heard it.
“It’s my goddamn money, you sonofabitch, and I Told you I didn’t want to put it into that shit!! It’s too fucking risky!” (He was her financial adviser).
“Well, fuck me! I guess I don’t know how to make money! Maybe that’s why I have so goddamn much of it! Now, will you sit your ass down, shut the fuck up, and fucking Listen for once?!!”
His long-time secretary Barbara and I would glance at each other knowingly as we listened to the frequent ongoing combat through the half-open door. They really loved each other. She would offer me a piece of hard candy from the cut glass bowl she kept on her desk, and I would nod my thanks and pick out one of the pretty striped ones. They were my favorite.
Mom was a talented candy-maker, her confections much in demand for get-togethers and official functions at her place of employment. She asked only for the price of the ingredients and materials, not interested in turning a profit. He was always onto her to take it to the next level.
“Let me set you up in a shop of your own. You could be working for yourself. You’d make a mint.” (She would drop off trays of her creations to the office from time to time).
“I’ve told you, I don’t Want to. I Like where I work, and it’s a steady income. The other might not be. I’ve told you that a hundred times! Now, will you just drop it?”
“You know I’d back you. We could be partners.”
“I don’t Want your money! I take care of myself. Besides, it would take up all of my time. I have kids to raise.”
“God damn it! Why the hell won’t you listen to me?!”
“Don’t you cuss at me!” she warned. “And you ain’t my fucking husband! You don’t Tell me what to Do!!”
“I’m not trying to Tell you, god damn it! I’m Trying to help your ass!”
I glanced at Barbara. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and extended the candy dish. I picked a solid red one this time. Cherry. Nothing wrong with a little variety from time to time.
“I don’t Need your damn help!”
“That’s not what you said before!”
Mom had met him when he was a patient at the hospital where she worked. They’d hit it off right away. I guess they both recognized a kindred soul.
He’d noticed that she was a little down one day, and asked the reason for it. Mom had been seeing a man who had turned out to be much less of one than she had initially thought. She had loaned him some money that she could ill afford to lose.
When she had asked for it back, finally tired of waiting for the return of what was to have been a short-term loan, he had laughed at her and told her that she would never see it again, and that she had been a fool to lend it to him in the first place.
“Give me that asshole’s name and number” Terrel had calmly asked. Curious, she had complied.
The guy came to the house the next day, cash and check in hand.
“Here’s your money. I didn’t have enough cash to cover it all, but the check won’t bounce. And I threw in a little extra as interest. And he said I should apologize, so I’m sorry....... You’ll tell him that I took care of this, won’t you?” he asked, with a hint of real concern in his voice.
Mother thanked him politely, and shut the door in his face. Hers and Terrel’s friendship was cemented from that moment on.
I would have started giving tithes to the Mormon Church to have been privy to that conversation. I do know that the manhood of someone who would so take advantage of an honest, generous woman with children to raise was immediately cast doubt upon. That much I got directly from Mother in a later conversation. For the rest, I’ve always liked to imagine the rest of the conversation tending toward how much less time and trouble it would be to have someone dispose of a particular body than it would be to take the case to Small Claims Court. Knowing Terrel, and his fierce loyalty to and protectiveness of anyone he considered a friend, the idea really isn’t all that far-fetched.
“Why are you so hard-headed that you won’t listen to good advice?!” thundered Terrel.
“I didn’t ask for your advise!”
“Then what the hell are you here for?!”
“I don’t remember!”
“Dumb backwoods hillbilly!”
“Call me that again, you bastard, an’ I’ll stick it up your ass!”
“You wish you could!”
“Try me! I oughta’ slap the shit outta’ you!”
“It’ll be the last thing you ever do!”
I took another hard candy from the bowl. Those cherry-flavored ones weren’t too bad. One for the road. It wouldn’t be long now.
Barbara was reading through some memos, unconcerned. She’d seen and heard it all before. We both had. Sometimes the shit started flying over the most innocuous of things. If they’d been married, surely one or both of them would be dead by now.
We knew how it would go. A few days would pass, and they’d both calm down. Whatever it was that she’d originally come to see him about would be remembered, and another meeting would be scheduled. They would be carefully cordial and politely friendly to each other for a while. Then the last of the ice would melt, and they’d be cheerful friends once again.
Until the next time. It never seemed to take very long.
I glanced through the open door.
“Fuck you!” she screamed at him, both hands on the desk and leaning forward into his face.
“Fuck you!!” he answered back, just as pissed as she was.
Swipe! There went everything off his desk again.
“Get the hell out of my office!”
“Fuck you And your office!”
“Bitch!” he fired at her retreating back.
“Asshole!” she threw back over her shoulder, before slamming the door so hard the pebbled glass in its upper half rattled in its frame. She turned around and gave it a kick just for good measure. She hurt her toe a little bit. I guess she forgot she was wearing sandles that day.
Her mountain twang that she would never lose really came to the forefront when she was mad, and it had made her parting shot sound kind of comical, to tell the truth.
Mom was a very pretty woman then, with long straight dark hair down her back much as Gram’s was. With the same pleasing features that Gram had from her mother’s Cherokee ancestry, I imagine that she looked much as Gram had in her own prime. And she took care of herself. When her hackles were up, though, she was magnificent! And her face was flushed now.
The temper? From the stories I’d heard about Gram way back when, maybe that was where she got that, too. Or it may have been partly vestiges of having lived so long in such unhappiness with Dad and his drinking.
Whatever the reason, it was rarely far under the surface. She took no shit from anyone. She’d promised herself that she never would again.
And Terrel’s matched it, of course, in spades. They were the best of friends, and sometimes armed enemies on a field of broken bones. But they were always there for each other over the years, as only the best of friends can be.
We could all hear Terrel swearing to himself now as he picked shit up off the floor: “Stupid, hardheaded, ignorant backwoods hillbilly .......!”
Mother glared daggers at him through the closed door.
Barbara laughed at them both as I stood up. Mom looked at her questioningly.
“You know why he likes you so much?” Barb asked.
“An’ why would that be, Barb? He’s got a funny way o’ showin’ it!”
“Because you’re just like him. You fight back, and he loves it. Everyone else is terrified of him. My god, the two of you are so alike!”
The last time I saw Terrel was when I went home to be with Mother after the accident that nearly took her life. For days she lay in a medically induced coma in the ICU, hovering between life and death, fighting not only massive injuries but a raging general infection the cause of which was never found. She had already gone into surgery again to try to find its source. Perhaps something had been missed, but her Doctors were left stymied.
Terrel had come to see her while she lay comatose, and sat with her for a while. I hadn’t been there at the time, but the nurses had, of course. Talking to her sometimes, for the attending nurses said that she may well be able to hear him. Mostly, though, just sitting in the darkened suite with the blinking colored lights from the monitors, holding her unresponding hand and staring forlornly out the big window that looked out onto the nighttime street below with its moderate traffic. Just keeping her company. Maybe thinking back on the last forty years that they had laughed and cursed and fought and enjoyed each others’ company. There for her, as he had always been.
It was a close thing.
Prayers were sent up by many, both there and back home, and much of my time was occupied during those dark days fielding calls from friends there and loved ones back home, inquiring day by day as to her condition.
But, as my younger daughter had remarked, shaking her head in wonder, her Grandmother’s People were a stubborn lot, and seemingly nearly impossible to kill.
Terrel came to see her again after the crisis was over, though I could tell the trip had not been an easy one for him.
I was with her in the private room to which she had been moved when he arrived. We greeted each other warmly. We hadn’t seen each other in a while.
Mother was glad to see him, but she had some complaints. That more than anything else let me know that she was going to be all right. It would be a long road to recovery, though, we all knew.
She wasn’t very happy with the nursing staff at the moment, or with me in particular, and she wasn’t at all hesitant in letting us both know it.
The nurse came in while we were all talking:
“I see that she has another visitor! How nice! Are you a family member?”
“I’m her friend” Terrel stated simply, and it was so very true. “And I’m also her lawyer. I know that she’ll receive the best care you can provide while she’s here. She’d better.”
He was smiling when he said it, but the smile didn’t match the hard look in his eyes. The nurse’s own smile faltered a little, and she quickly found somewhere else to be.
Same old Terrel. His aged body might be failing him, but that same ferocious personality remained undimmed.
Terrel presently pulled me aside into the hallway.
“What was she talking about in there, OP? I couldn’t make it out. And speak up, dammit! I don’t hear too well anymore! I didn’t get half of what You were sayin’, either! Why the hell do you keep whispering?!”
“Sorry, but we’re in a hospital, Sir.”
“I know we’re in a damn hospital! I’m dying, not senile. Speak up, man! I told you I don’t hear well! And if you call me “Sir” one more time, I swear to God! I’ve told you a million times, you call me Terrel! There’s none of that “Sir” shit between us!”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Damn it, OP!”
“Sorry. Force of habit. She’s on a strict liquid diet right now, and she doesn’t like it. She keeps trying to get me to go to the cafeteria and sneak her up some real food. She’s mad at me because I won’t do it. She can’t eat solids right now because she can’t swallow well.”
Terrel chuckled in what might almost have been delight. “That sounds like her” he said. Then he got serious again.
“Really, OP, how is she? Is she going to be ok?”
“The worst is past. She’ll be all right. It’s gong to take some time, though. She shouldn’t have survived. I think everyone’s surprised that she did.”
“I’m not” he replied, with a little laugh. “Ignorant hillbilly! As stubborn as they come.”
“If she’s strong enough to argue with her nurses, I think she’s going to be ok.”
“I think you’re right” he replied. “And stop apologizing for every damn thing! You sound like a fucking parrot!”
I looked at this great man that I had known for nearly all my life. He was a little stooped now, bent over a little at the waist in what I could see was pain that he refused to acknowledge. He seemed shorter than before, and his physical vitality was nearly spent. I had a sense what this trip to the hospital had cost him. The disease that ravaged his body had not been kind. His remaining time was short. His doctors had told him that there was nothing more to be done, and that he should put his affairs in order. It would be soon - weeks now, not months.
But I knew he wouldn’t stay away. Not from her. They had been too important a part of each others’ lives for far too long. Friends to the end.
His hair was long gone to gray now, but was still as thick and unruly as it had always been. He was up in years. So was Mother. For that matter, I was no longer young myself. There was a lot of gray in my beard, though my hair is still as black as it always was.
He looked around now to make sure no one was watching, and palmed a folded wad of bills from his pants pocket and tucked them in the pocket of my shirt.
“Don’t!” he said, and raised his finger in warning as I opened my mouth to speak. “It’s for expenses while you’re here. And OP, if you need more, or if there’s anything else you need while you’re here, you’re going to pick up the damn phone and say “Terrel, I need your help. If I find out you did, and you didn’t, it’s going to piss me off. You don’t want to piss me off, OP! I can still kick your ass if I need to. You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe you, S-“
“Damn you, OP!”
“Sorry. I mean Terrel. His given name felt a little strange in my mouth, though, somehow disrespectful-like. With him, I had always been more comfortable with “Sir”.
He said his goodbyes to Mother. “You have a fine Son here, ******. Try not to be too hard on him” he remarked to her.
I laughed a little at that. He’d been chewing my ass - again - just a few minutes ago. It had been just like old times. He have me a little knowing smile, and shrugged a little in acknowledgement.
I walked him to the elevators to ride down to the lobby with him. He staggered just a little, only once, as I held the door open, but I knew better than to offer him my hand. He might Just still kick my ass.
We parted outside the doors, the sounds of the daytime city unmuffled now by steel and glass. It was a cold day, with not much wind.
He shook my hand, then pulled me in for a hug and a few pats in the back. “It’s been good to see you again, OP” me said. It’s been too long. I’m glad we got the chance.”
“So am I.”
Unspoken between us was the knowledge that there might not be another.
“Remember what I said” he reminded me. “If there’s anything you need, or that She needs, you give me a call, you hear? I’ll find out if you don’t.”
I said that I would.
“I guess you’ll have to be getting back.”
“In a few more days.” My Brothers would take it from there. In truth, they had been before I arrived. My presence hadn’t really been necessary. But she was our Mother, and my place, and theirs, and my Sister’s, had been here.
As had Terrel’s.
“Well, you take care of yourself, OP. And take care of your Mother. Call me before you leave....... and OP? Shave that shit off your face. You look like a bum.”
I laughed, he smiled, and then he turned and walked away. He stood a little straighter now, and seemed a little stronger. I guess the worst of the pain had passed for the time being.
I stood and watched him as he got smaller in the distance, the impersonal gray monoliths of the downtown city center rising into the sky on all sides, the sounds of nearby traffic an accompaniment to a sudden feeling of lonely sadness. Some men should never die. But, of course, we all must. He turned a corner and was lost to sight.
Terrel died a few short weeks later, no longer with the strength to fight the inevitable. But he had fought it for two long years.
His family requested that instead of flowers, anyone wishing to should send a donation to the children’s hospital that he had championed for his entire career. It had been one of his last requests. He hadn’t wanted money wasted on him that could help someone else instead. That had always been his way.
He had left a bequeathment to Mother that it had been requested that I handle. He had also made arrangements with his principal partner in his firm to see that Mother would be looked after after he was gone, and her needs and affairs seen to.
Anything else would have surprised me. He had always been there for her, and for us, as she had been there for him, through good times and bad: laughing, supportive friends of long standing, whose relationship could descend at little more than a moment’s notice into cursing, screaming battle royales that had become the stuff of legend within the office, with objects thrown sometimes at the walls and sometimes at him. He had early learned to duck, and the combat training that he had received came in handy, I suppose. He was quick on his feet. I don’t think she ever connected once, though she sure as hell tried to on a number of occasions.
I met with that same partner before I left for home, and recognized him as the older version of the harried young law student intern that Terrel had ridden so mercilessly years before, with many a loudly voiced criticism that would turn the young man’s ears bright red with embarrassment, and many a humiliating directive to go get him lunch or fetch a cup of coffee or pick up his dry cleaning. And for God’s sake hang the damn things up on the hooks in the car! It was what they were there for! Don’t fold them on the back seat! What the hell did he think he’d gotten them pressed for?! Was he really that fucking dense?!
The same young man who he then offered a position in his firm after he’d passed the bar exam on his first try. He apparently had seen great potential in the younger man, and had cultivated and aided his progress in the way that only he could, riding his ass as mercilessly as any DI had ever ridden mine, preparing and toughening him for the rigors of his chosen career.
That same man now mostly ran the firm, and had more and more of late, with a number of associates now laboring on his behalf in various departments.
He shook my hand cordially when we met, bade me have a seat, and instructed his secretary to place his calls on hold while we were in conference.
He had been instructed by Terrel, he assured me, that Mother was to be taken care of, and what Terrel wanted, Terrel got. He then outlined some things that were even then being accomplished on her behalf, and gave me his business and personal numbers with instructions to call upon him at any time should the need arise. There would never, of course, be any charge.
So that was Terrel.
Twice decorated fighter of his Country’s wars.
Selfless promoter of an organization that had saved the lives of countless children who otherwise would have perished, serving on its board without pay or recompense, and raising money through cajoling, threats, and flattery for its continued good work, while contributing a small fortune out of his own pockets.
A staunch supporter of those he felt worthy of his backing.
Ready with a helping hand to those in need, be it money, influence, or simply good counsel freely given.
A man owed much by many.
A loyal husband to the wife that he clung to all his days.
A supportive father to his Children and an ally to his many Brothers and Sisters.
A loyal friend to Mother through forty years of thick and thin, though there were many times when for a short while they despised each other.
A loud, abrasive, overbearing man who spent the greater portion of his life helping others, and who once told me that there was no higher calling.
A dynamo who could never seem to be quite still, who would curse you like a sailor if he loved you, but wouldn’t waste his time trying to slap some sense into your head if he did not.
Terrel called me while I was on the road, on the last leg of my homeward journey. I had pulled over to a rest stop for a brief break to stretch my legs and work out some kinks and have a bite to eat. He just wanted to check in and make sure I was ok.
“Where are you now, OP?” I told him.
“Damn it, OP, you shouldn’t try to drive straight through! You have to get some rest, Son!”
I told him that I had stopped for a while the night before.
“Well, that’s good, then. How much longer ‘til you’re home?”
“About seven hours or so.”
“Well, you be careful, you hear me?”
“I will.”
“And tell your lovely wife when you see her that Terrel says hello, ok? You got damned lucky with that one, you know that?”
“Yes I do.”
“It was good to see you again, OP. I just wish it could have been under better circumstances.”
“The feeling’s mutual. It had been a while.”
“Too long. Too long.......Well, I guess I’d better let you go. Give me a call when you get home, ok? Let me know you made it safe?”
“I’ll be sure to do that, as soon as I get there.”
“Make sure you do. It was good to see you again. And, OP, you take care of yourself now.......Sir.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment past the sudden lump in my throat. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never called me that, and I’d never heard him address any other as such. I understood the intent behind his choice of word, as I had been intended to. He had just, in my mind, done me an honor of respect that, coming from him, I felt I did not deserve.
My reply, when it came, came easily this time, and the name no longer felt so strange upon my tongue:
“Thank you......Terrel.”
There was a soft click, and the connection was broken.
I sat for a little while longer, watching the breeze stirring the trees. It had been getting steadily warmer the further south I drove.
I thought with heavy heart about how the end came eventually for us all, even the very best of us.
I stirred myself and stood and threw my trash away. Momma and the Children waited. It was time to go home.

Feathers over Arretia is an indie RPG dealing with the most serious criminal elements threatening society: smol birbs. The game takes place in the fictional city of Arretia, a modern setting with some minor fantasy elements.
HISTORY
PART I
THE FOUNDING MYTHS
All great cities of the Ancient World have foundation myths, Arretia is no different. There are competing stories that claim legitimacy as the “true” foundation myth of the city. Both have considerable academic merit and the debate has continued for centuries as to which is the “true” myth. However recent excavations on the Mount of Cages, which contains some of the most ancient remains of the old part of the city, have revealed a third story in recent years that is as popular as it is fantastic.
Myth 1 – The Aristotelian Connection
334BC
Crowned King of Macedon at age 20 with the death of his father Phillip II, Alexander consolidated power on the Greek countryside, taking on Illyria, Thebes and Athens before continuing his father’s life’s work: the invasion of Persia.
In 334 BC Alexander set foot upon the shore of Asia Minor opposite the Hellespont and claimed the entirety of it’s continent with the ceremonial thrust of a spear into the ground.
His tutor and advisor Aristotle, perhaps the smartest man alive at the time, prudently informed the young conqueror with a whisper that this moment should be commemorated for posterity as generations would want to know where it was the gods themselves acquiesced to his demands for land.
Alexander’s exact response isn’t known but he broadly let Aristotle know that if it was so important, he could do it.
So a small shrine was erected at the spot where the spear lay, consecrated by a priestess of Delphi retained with the party for such events and a plaque was written in Greek and Persian telling all who could read of its history. Aristotle himself dictated the passage and etched his own mark into the bottom with hammer and chisel.
In May 334 BC, when Alexander defeated Memnon of Rhodes in The Battle of the Granicus River, the first blow against the might of Persia, Aristotle recommended a similar monument be made. Alexander was impudent and demanded the tutor just make a sign pointing to the last shrine to save time. A slip of the lip caused that sign to read “Με αυτόν τον τρόπο στην πλάκα του Αριστοτέλη” or “This way to Aristotle’s plaque.”
Some say that this mistake made its way back to the young King who decided to make sure such a mistake could never again occur, founding innumerable cities in his own name from that day forward. Ironically, playing right into Aristotle’s original ploy to get Alexander serious about building a legacy and not just pursuing glory in vanity.
Over decades, the spear was eventually stolen and the shrine looted but the plaque remained stalwart and vivid as the day it was carved, as did the signs directing people to its location.
But “Aristotle’s plaque” became shortened to “Aristotle’s [land]” and eventually was misread as Arretia in a Roman census which stuck around to the present day.
Myth 2 – The Disgraced Commander
323 BC
Even before Alexander’s retreat from India in the final year of his life, the empire he had spent years building was already in danger of crumbling.
Disloyal generals, governors and bureaucrats of the West who once groveled at his feet were no longer cowed upon his departure to lands further and further East. Threats of rebellion simmered and the empire was already being carved up by conspirators in back rooms long before Alexander ever lay upon his deathbed.
Before the Wars of the Diadochi tore this empire asunder a dozen times, one of Alexander’s most loyal allies Antigonus I who had followed him all the way from Greece having served his father Philip II had his son Antigonus II sent in secret back to his holdings in Macedon with a fortune in gold to build support for his claim to the empire once Alexander finally died without an heir.
However his return was slow and exorbitant as the young noble caroused at every city and village on the long journey from Persia and by the time he had finally reached The Hellespont, not only was much of his fortune squandered but his own party betrayed him, throwing him off of the gangway at the last second before boarding ship which sailed towards Crete. Either bad fortune or the very wrath of the gods saw it cast to the bottom of the Aegean where the gold remains undiscovered to this day.
Learning of his son’s incompetent failure, Antigonus I had his name stricken from history and rewrote his family lineage so that Demetrius I was his issue, not Antigonus II. Historians debate how much gold was lost in this event but many agree that had the trip been successful, Antigonus I might have bought-off Ptolemy long enough to keep the empire from falling to civil war.
Yet locals still recall in vivid detail the folly of Antigonus II and took to calling the area where he was betrayed as ανόητος ηλίθιος στη νερό (silly idiot in the water) which was shortened over time to ατοςιος σερό and eventually αρτηρία or Arretia today.
Myth 3 – The First Flight
440 BC
In 1989, a small excavation at the Mount of Cages began as a joint effort by the Committee of Arretian Historical Preservation (CAHP) and the Fine Arts College of Arretia (FACA) to find relics of the city’s past succeeded and may have changed history with its discovery of a plaque far more ancient than any others before it.
On this plaque in worn Copper and Jade was the following: 𒀀𒆷𒀸𒊭𒄠𒈪𒅖𒉺𒋫𒀀𒀸𒉿𒈾𒀜𒋾𒅖 (Wanattis patas Alasammis) along the faint impression of a human foot.
Tests determined the plaque to be authentic, tracing back to the middle of the 5th Century B.C.
The human foot was determined to be that of a young woman.
One enterprising youth working on a PHD in Comparative Linguistic Studies suggested that the engraving might be Luwian Swadesh, a form of ancient Cuneiform thought to be used by the Trojans.
Translated the plaque reads: “[where from] the sea [a] woman’s foot.”
Although the subject on intense debate between Arretian, Turkish and Greek scholars, it is believed by some that this spot was where Helen of Troy first stepped on land after being abducted by Prince Paris in the time immediately before the Trojan War. This theory is buoyed due to Arretia’s proximity to the ruins of Troy and soil erosion patterns suggest that the Mount of Cages was at one time a natural jetty sticking out into the sea.
Now a Professor Emeritus of the Linguistics Department of the FACA, Dr. Merlin Bruce Codlack’s book “Beneath the Mount” maintains that the old form of Trojan gave rise to the common use of the name Arretia for the area over centuries as the spoken language was invaded by Greek cognates which turned “Alsammis” and “patas” to “Arretpatas” by the time of Alexander who adopted the name simplifying it to Arretia in the process.
PART II
ANCIENT HISTORY
The meteoric ascendancy of Greece during the time of Alexander brought prosperity to Asia Minor along with immigration at rates unheard of. Due to its strategic position in a natural harbor, a small trading community sprang up in the region which grew at an accelerated pace due the influx of trade between itself, Byzantium and Rhodes.
Ancient merchants who spoke of the glory of the Colossus as it was being built in the 3rd Century BC made mention of the cheap provisions that could be had a few days sail further along the coast at Arretia which now boasted a considerable farming community lured to the area by cheap land and fertile soil.
Migrating herds of black cattle moving along transits laid by the Hittites 1,000s of years earlier became an increasingly common site in the town. Before long, the citizens had erected crude palisades and a considerable watchtower upon what would later be known as the Mount of Cages where a band of far-sighted archer mercenaries from across the Greek world stood ever vigilant, paid in turn with generous land grants and even more gracious payment than could be found anywhere else in the Mediterranean.
PART III
PRE-ROMAN OCCUPATION
Centuries of good fortune, prosperity and mild weather turned the small town into a bustling city by the time of Rome. Generations of increasingly confident watchmen and prudent city defense planning had turned the once wooden tower into a stone monolith which through the clever use of mirrors and a coal fire was able to light the sea for miles around at night while lenses developed by Archimedes himself at Syracuse were re-engineered to make Arretian scouts unrivaled marksmen capable of sighting fleets days before they would normally be spotted – in no small part egged on by a merchant class of considerable power which gambled heavily and recklessly with commodity speculation. A common phrase at the time was “no grain ship can leave Alexandria for Rome without some Arretian knowing about it, selling and trading its cargo before the sails are even unfurled.”
All of these marvels paled in comparison to Rhodes to the South and Arretians prided themselves on being the underdog rival, resulting in a hundred fortunes lost beneath the soaring arm of the Colossus won back under Arretia’s stone monolith.
Despite most mapmakers placing Arretia firmly within the bounds of the territories of the Seleucid Empire, the only tax ever paid to that crumbling backwater was a single pure silver slug approximately 10 grams in weight paid annually by one of the many merchant families via courier addressed directly to the King of the Seleucids. When this tradition first started with the founding of the city during the days of Alexander, such a payment was a king’s ransom but over time became so much of a pittance that the families boasted decades of “taxes” were pre-paid in their basement next to the cheap wine and how droll it all seemed that some distant king truly needed the money.
In 217 BC, the Selucid King Antiochus III the Great in an attempt to revive the dying empire made war on Egypt and lost at the Battle of Raphia. Though bloodied, the king engaged in a restructuring of his lands which was mostly focused on quelling rebellions and consolidating power in the East while giving up on retaking Syria for the time being. In service to these efforts, he raised taxes and Arretia found itself the subject of an event that has been colloquially known as The Shaming of The King.
The story goes that the Seleucid King’s tax collector arrived in Arretia to find its walls (once wooden now solid stone) manned with troops in full battle regalia and the gate locked. However the side gate (known as the Eye of the Sling) was opened just enough that he might crawl through it and a small banner made of finest silk confirmed that was expected of him saying “για τους φτωχούς (for the poor)” with an arrow pointing down at it. The tax collector humbly crawled down into the gate finding it covered in animal muck and mud along the bottom. When he crossed the threshold the patriarchs of the merchant families stood proud and tall alongside strongboxes arrayed before him. When the tax collector stood up, covered in filth, the men tipped the boxes over, showering his feet in silver coins a hundred deep which sank quickly into the mud before walking silently back to their estates without a word. Tradition states that the tax collector spent days sifting through the muck as it hardened, collecting a small fortune before realizing he had no possible way to carry it back to his King in the East. Legend states that he stole a muck-rakers cart and escaped through the gate which had been left open in the meantime with a pile of silver and dung half a man high. He was eventually able to find passage back in less humiliating fashion but the message was clear: Arretia thought King Antiochus III to be a common beggar, no more.
PART IV
ROMAN INVOLVEMENT
The Vote
By the 1st Century BC Rome’s ascendancy was all but assured. While Carthage remained a valuable trade partner, its destruction in the Third Punic War half a century earlier made even the richest houses of Arretia quake with fear. In 145 BC, exactly one year after her strongest ally was burnt to the ground and her fields salted the great houses organized a plebiscite.
All adult male citizens and freemen or women who owned property were allowed to vote. Voting occurred over a three week period allowing even the most disparate of farmers or merchants out at sea an opportunity to vote.
The vote was simple: shall Arretia resist Rome, yay or nay? Nay votes were symbolized by a feather from a rooster, chosen at random in the market stalls from vendors as part of a lot system while the yay votes came from hens along similar lines. Over three weeks it is said there was not a single unplucked chicken in Anatolia. On the final day it was found that the ‘nays’ had won by a landslide and the great houses debated how best to interpret this matter.
The three richest houses proclaimed they would sign a treaty of friendship with Rome, offering them a similar deal to that offered to the now defunct Seleucid Empire.
Over the Winter a grand ceremony was planned and preparations made for the envoy.
The Landing
Two great ships were built, The Romulus of Apollo and The Remus of Februus, adorned in gold and silver respectively. Carried by sails of silk, rowed by the tallest slaves of Parthia, full of exotic spices from the Far East, captained by men who claimed to have reached the Southern-most Tip of Africa and full of a ransom fit for any three emperors combined, along with a single daughter of each great home trained in Latin, the fleet anchored off Rome’s Portus artificial harbor off the north bank of the Tiber on April 5th, 144 BC on the dawn of the Festival of Fortuna Publica, or the "luck of the people."
The young women approached the senate and handed forth reams of purple vellum explaining the offer of Arretia to the upstart hegemon. Lucius Aurelius Cotta, Counsul a the time and elected during the Fortuna Publica festival in 154 BC coincidentally, accepted the terms: Arretia would provide logistical support, technical expertise and ships to the Roman Navy 10 talents of silver annually paid to the Roman Senate Build a new Pantheon in Arretia for the Roman Gods Rome would exempt her citizens of any taxes or drafts Rome would become her protectorate should any enemies declare war on the merchant republic
The Byzantine Period
While Rome seemed unstoppable, Arretia was a haven of intellectual involvement and oligarchy as the richest men and women of the known world demanded citizenship, if only to avoid the harsh taxation of Rome at home. Soon there was a row of homes, all empty, where dozens of Arretian “citizens” “lived” but even the most fastidious bureaucrat in Italy was hopelessly lost in the ocean of paperwork Arretian civil servants produced daily.
So it was that when Constantine the Great decreed that Constantinople would be the new Capitol of the Roman Empire, the whole of Arretia held its breath. Along with his tax reform and re-issuance of the currency (debasing it with cheaper metals and forcing all Roman citizens to pay in coin for government fees and taxes), Constantine demanded Arretia triple their existing tribute until Constantinople was finished with construction of the Hagia Sophia (Megale Ekklesia or Big Church) Arretian merchants, craftsmen, builders, surveyors and brick layers descended upon the new city like a flock seagulls upon an uncovered market stall, determined to have it finished in record time.
Legend has it that for every brick laid in Constantinople, another was laid in Arretia. The old Pantheon was retrofitted behind closed gates and under grand tents. On February 15th, 360 AD during the reign of the emperor Constantius II when The Hagia Sophia was concentrated and opened to the public. While The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem had more artifacts on display, The Hagia Sophia held the seat of the Ecumenical Patriarch and The Pantheon still had the largest dome in the world, The Ecclesiae Baptismate (Church of the Baptism) contained by some estimates nearly 40% of all pieces of the True Cross to exist in the world at the time, ironically making the Cross replica itself nearly 74 feet tall.
The Plague
The Plague of Justinian 541 AD killed untold millions throughout the world, originating in either Asia or Africa, the first documented reports of its involvement according to Byzantine source Procopius was in Egypt’s port of Pelusium.
The Arretians tell a different story.
In 540 AD a sailor from the Far East was found floating in the Indian Ocean 100 miles off the coast of Axum by an unknown Arretian vessel. Its captain recorded in stone tablet (as all wood and papers had dissolved in the salt water) this message. He then scuttled the vessel to the bottom of the sea to protect the world as best he could and forestall the inevitable coming devastation:
The [man] is turning black before our eyes as though some fire burns from within his groin and [armpits]. The spits the most vile [substances] and convulses in the night. I notice [on myself] the same growing painful lumps and it is my duty to stop this [plague] before my crew are infected. May God have mercy on [us].
Spies and merchants (if there ever was truly a distinction to the Arretians) reported on rumors in Pelusium of a sickness that spread like locusts.
The 15 Great Houses of Arretia held an emergency meeting that very night, un-customarially sharing all possible information on the sickness and concluded in a matter of hours that the city must survive, no matter the costs.
In the most Arretian way possible a 2 day state of emergency was declared. Any and all food stores were seized, any and all ship traffic in the harbor was seized, the bowels of all ships emptied while furious captains were silenced with bags of silver too large to carry by any one pack animal, and sent back to their port of call without explanation.
The countryside was picked clean and all foreign citizens warned to not return to the city upon pain of death. The walls were redoubled with temporary wooden facades, the gates sealed shut with leaded locks for which no key was made. From the highest aviaries to the lowest jetties, not an inch of the city went upturned. Every fishing boat was impressed and triple staffed for back-to-back shifts until the sea around Arretia was scraped clean of all marine life.
On the last night, all boats were returned to the harbor where they were dismantled, along with the harbor itself while the stone edifices of the great houses and mansions of the typically unoccupied but ostentatious ‘Roman Quarter’ were thrown into the harbor creating a temporary breakwater which was reinforced with pitch and tar until water sealed and a great fire set ablaze on the shore. Boiling water in so great a quantity bathed the city in salt, collected from windows, walls and the ground itself to preserve every scrap of meat and fish possible.
An especially hardy species of mushroom from far off Gaul of the Grooty Strain (brought over by some trader years earlier) was discovered growing underneath a porch and at once a massive team of laborers set to work retrofitting every basement, vault and catacomb into nurseries for the tiny gray intrusive species.
On the dawn of the third day Arretia had gone from a glittering example of the height of civility into a militarized, insular micro-nation where the rich and poor alike bore the filth of manual labor and the treasures of a dozen generations lay in the hands of foreign nations that had no idea why they had reversed centuries of trade policy on a whim.
Only Justinian’s spies had even a clue and they warned him that the Empire of Rome itself might do the same, a premise shouted down in the Senate a handful of times until bodies started piling up in the street, far too late to matter.
Accurate records are not possible but it is said Arretia lost a tenth of her population to starvation, rioting and disease. But not one single death from plague was ever noted.
By the time the Black Plague entered the world, Arretia had learned from the mistakes of the past and had years worth of imperishable stocked away in hidden caves with secondary and even third basements covered in edible plants that thrived in the dank, lightless environment supplying a grateful populous who still shared stories of the darkest time in her history. The Venetians claim to have invented the Quarantine but in fact, Arretia had perfected the practice while Venice was still flotsam floating in the Adriatic Sea.
PART V – THE OTTOMANS
Almost 500 years of constant war, against the Huns, Cumans, Samaritans, Sassanids, Seljuks and others on just her Eastern borders, the Byzantine Empire strained at the edges and much of Asia Minor was lost to the Turks. In 1071AD a number of very forward-thinking members of the Great Houses of Arretia sent spies along with the Roman Emperor Romanos IV Diogenes in his campaign to once again bring all of Anatolia under Roman rule. At the Battle of Manzikert on August 26, 1071AD two very important events took place:

1. The Emperor himself was captured and would be paraded throughout the Seljuk Empire in chains before ransomed at a price even the Arretians found exorbitant
2. The Arretians returned upon the fastest horses money could buy from dubious mercenary Pechenegs in the middle of the night still drunk on the glory of victory

The Great Houses were divided on whether or not to prop up an Empire that seemed on the brink of collapse who they had sunk mountains of gold and silver into in the hope that they could once again establish themselves in the hinterlands, whether they should take advantage of the weakness of Rome to declare independence and even take Constantinople while it remained unguarded by her legions or bend knee to the Turks. The matter was put to vote, however in order to maintain perfect secrecy only members of the ruling families were able to participate, those that were in the city at the time that is. By a margin of exactly 1 vote which came from what would later be described as “the desiccated corpse of a Pater familias dug up from a catacomb, adorned in sweet perfumes and operated by a series of pulleys and bellows,” Arretia switched sides.
Some say The Cross in The Ecclesiae Baptismate which had towered over pilgrims for hundreds of years was torn down that morning while other historians maintain it was buried under a nearby hill until such time as the city could be returned to its old faith safely. Whatever the case, the building was converted to a Grand Mosque and a procession left a few days later to pay homage to their new suzerain in Isfahan.
A cohort of 400 of the strongest boys Arretia had to offer arrived at the head of the caravan, to comprise the a contingent of troops that over time would come to be the Elite Janissary of the Ottoman Empire. With them came oxen laden with ten years worth of tribute in gold, and the plans for a massive highway to be built along the route to facilitate trade between the new allies.
Sultan Alp Arslan’s Grand Viser accepted the terms as dictated by the Arretians after hardly a glance at the treaty, so great was his desire to impress such a fabulously wealthy nation that came crawling on its knees without the rattle of a saber, they were essentially the same as offered the Romans before him and the Ottoman Fleet quadrupled in size with the flourish of a quill upon purple parchment.
The Arrentians, with the exception of those cohorts they sent every year and what few sailors they could not procure from elsewhere, remained circumspect of their new Ottoman masters and it is often said that even the Imam in the Grand Mosque still wore a cross under his robes. Though coffeehouses, hookah dens and other Near Eastern proprietors were already common in the city, a new flood of Turkish shops came and went as they realized that the Arretians were terribly nepotistic in their shopping patterns and the Great Houses were willing to sell storefronts with one hand while making sure no suppliers or contracts would ever make it through customs with the other. While the flag above the city changed shape and color, its people still walked through Roman style bathhouses and drank wine freely in the plazas and museums.
Over the centuries during the Siege of Malta in 1429 AD, Siege of Rhodes 1522 AD, the Second Siege of Malta in 1565 AD, and Constantinople itself in 1203 AD, 1204 AD, 1235 AD, 1236 AD, 1376 AD , 1391AD, 1394-1402AD, 1411AD, 1422 AD and finally 1453 AD, it is said the families of Arretia wept as openly as their once-bretherin Romans. There stands a plaque in the central plaza listing the name of every Arretian who died in those sieges, to the puzzlement of modern historians it seems that either those commissioning the plaque were unconcerned with accuracy or almost 10% of those three cities were comprised of Arretians. DNA testing of survivors is inconclusive but ongoing.
PART VI – MODERN HISTORY
The Ottoman Empire waned with time, eventually becoming the “Sick Man of Europe” and the West conspired for decades over who would get Arretia for their own like squabbling children looking at the will of a man on life support.
Following the conclusion of WW1 and the imposition of the Treaty of Sèvres on August 10th, 1920 Arretia was nominally under Italian rule for the first time in 100s of years.
In a drunken, semi-coherent speech in April 1923, ‘Il Duce’ Benito Mussolini (having recently succeeded in a coup the year previous and setting about dissolving any political opposition) proclaimed to an audience of fellow blackshirts that “Direct rule from Rome would begin again in Arretia by morning!”
The following morning Moussolini awoke with a hangover and a single feather on his pillow beside him. Thinking nothing of it, as he was used to errant feathers poking out of his pillow from time to time, he simply re-fluffed his own pillow to find it strangely heavy and lumpy.
Opening the case, he found it stuffed full of Italian Lire, exactly ₤ 2,250. The same amount he had mailed to his Mistress for rent that month. In a rush he grabbed a phone and had the operator connect him with her, who answered very surprised as she pointed out he himself had paid her rent via check and spent the night with her before leaving in the very early morning.
It took hours for his bank to confirm the check was genuine and his signature authentic. Moussolini called for Achille Starace, the Press Secretary of the Office of the Presidency of the Council and his brother Arnaldo Mussolini, the editor of the state-occupied Fascist newspaper Il Popolo, to shred any and all documentation of his speech the night before.
In a single night, Italian dreams of returning Arretia to its dominion vanished.
Rumor has it that Carmine Coppola heard the story from a relative who was there that night for the speech and told an impressionable Francis Ford Coppola about it in his childhood, sparking the famous horse’s head scene in 1972’s The Godfather. The Italian government has neither confirmed nor denied the connection.
Arretian pseudo-independence was celebrated by thousands of sailors between 1940 and 1943 who’s lives were protected by their ‘Eagle-eyed guides’ spotting submarines at the last second, steering unarmed convoys away from sea mines or even bad weather long range radar couldn’t pick up. During the Battle of Britain, those same guides filled in gaps left by long-range spotter balloons and rode along RAF Spitfires and P-51s when their own spotters, gunners and even pilots were too tired, wounded or shaken to keep the skies friendly.
Though not formally invited to the Yalta Conference in February, 1945, Arretian diplomats helped steer Marshall Plan funding for years, were instrumental in negotiations for the Treaty of Paris in 1951, creating the European Coal and Steel Community, were the first non-continental member of the EU in 1973, wrote almost half of the Maastricht Treaty in 1993, kept the Common Currency negotiations from falling apart in 1999, bought half of all Greek Debt during the European Financial Crisis of 2008 and ironically now own half of all proven European Oil Reserves due to meddling in Brexit Negotiations just two years ago, buying North Sea drilling rights for pence on the Euro. While the EU is ruled from Brussels, most politicians would concede that most legislation is written in Arretia using Arretian ink by Arretian claws and hands alike.

As of 1pm CST on 10/28, Zeta is a Cat 2 with 100mph winds. The eye is projected to move over the greater New Orleans area. Landfall is expected sometime around 3-5pm on October 28th. Take precautions now and prepare for a stronger than anticipated hurricane to roll through. As always, please listen to local, state and national government officials on the actions and steps you need to take.

NOLAReady states that you should be prepared to SHELTER IN PLACE by 2pm today. Take this advice from local leaders. The 1pm update from NOAA shows that New Orleans will be taking a direct hit from the storm and winds are expected to reach 86-115MPH in the core of New Orleans.

This. This is my life now. Memes and Hurricanes.

What is Damp May Never Dry!

This post has been updated as of 10/28 @ 1pm; Check Comments for Track Updates - Updated on 10/28 @ 1pm
Another one. Are you fat from Cosmic Brownies yet? Too bad, go get more. I'd tell you to go and buy some stock in McKee Foods, but they're private. If they ever IPO, head on over to /wallstreetbets and throw tendies at them. I digress, this is a tropical depression megathread. Anyways, this scientologist-god sounding named storm called Zeta is rolling into the gulf and has put us back in the C O N E O F U N C E R T A I N T Y. Might as well put the entire US in the cone since the election is next week. P.S. Go vote if you haven't.
In order to make it easier and provide current information to individuals, please keep the conversations surrounding the storm to this thread. We are trying to consolidate the more serious conversations/information to this thread. This post is automatically set to sort by new. It is highly recommended that you sort comments by new given the changing environment.
For the time being, memes and funny-ish posts can be standalone posts. This is subject to change depending on how the situation evolves. Despite all the humor surrounding it, please take this event seriously and make plans based upon your needs.
Below is some general information/advice, but should not be taken as official recommendations. Please listen to local/national authorities in determining your next course of actions. I will try to update this post with current information when I can.
Once the storm gets closer to landfall, we will switch from this standalone post to the /TropicalWeather live thread as it's a great resource to get up to date information on the storm.
P.S. If you believe something should be appended/amended to this post, please let me know and I'll be happy to consider it.

What is happening?

Zeta, the sixth letter of the greek alphabet and more annoying sistebrothething to Cthulhu, has arisen from the seas and is now entering the Gulf. In what is most assuredly the worst prank ever by NOAA Meteorologists, New Orleans is enjoying it's 7th time in the Cone of Uncertainty.
Hurricane Zeta has a very high probability to hit New Orleans. Latoya did not activate the shield quick enough! Landfall is expected to be tomorrow evening with the storm quickly - and I mean quickly - going over New Orleans. The eye is anticipated to be above New Orleans around 3-5pm and gone by 12pm/1am.
Please prepare for a high strength Category 1 storm tomorrow (10/28) by mid-day.

Where can I get more information on projected paths, evacuation notices, and general preparation information?

As always, we recommend paying attention to local and national media forecasts. Here are some official government links for you to monitor:

• NOAA/National Hurricane Center
• NOLA Ready
• NWS New Orleans
• State of Louisiana Emergency Portal

And some local news sources as well:

• WWLTV
• FOX 8
• WDSU
• NOLA.com
• WWL 870 AM Radio
• You can also text "ZETA" to 888777 to get text updates.

I'm a weather junky and I need my fix, what do you recommend?

Again, please take advice of your local and national government when making decisions. However, like you, we like knowing what the Euro, GFS, UKMET, HMON, HWRF, COAMPS and Navy models are all doing at all times. For these people:

• /TropicalWeather - Your favorite tropics subreddit!
• Tropical Tidbits - Levi Cowan is providing some of the best analysis on storms out there. Please consider donating to his patreon.
• Hurricane Watch Net - Amateur Radio Operators trained to provide emergency information when stuff goes HAM.
• Mike's Weather Page - If you like seeing a website designed in the early 2000s with a bunch of hurricane graphics on one page, this is the spot for you.
• NBC 15 Youtube Channel - Mobile is part of the Swampborn Krewe and they have Alan Sealls on the team, arguably one of the best Hurricane Meteorologists the South has. Highly recommend watching his daily videos (they get posted on /tropicalweather).
• Tropicswx.com - Made by redditor Michael424242, similar to Mike's Weather Page, it's an aggregated dashboard of all the things.
• Yale Climate Connections - Weather Underground used to maintain one of the best blogs called Category 6, after being bought by the Weather Channel, they shut it down. Jeff Masters has moved to the Yale Climate Connections being posted under "Eye on the Storm."

Should I evacuate?

Please refer to the above local/national section when making your evacuation plans. Every person's situation is different. Please begin making preparations 3-4 days out. We will attempt to monitor and post evacuation updates below. For a complete up to date list, please visit this WDSU link.
Mandatory Evacuations (As of 10/28):
Orleans Parish

Officials haven't declared any mandatory evacuations in this parish yet. Stay tuned for updates.

Jefferson Parish

• Mandatory evacuation for campers, RVs and boats in Grand Isle starting at 11 a.m. Monday.
• A mandatory evacuation for the town of Jean Lafitte, Lower Lafitte, Crown Point and Barataria starting at 6am on Wednesday.

St. Bernard Parish

Officials haven't declared any mandatory evacuations in this parish yet. Stay tuned for updates.

Plaquemines Parish

Officials haven't declared any mandatory evacuations in this parish yet. Stay tuned for updates.

St. Tammany Parish

Officials haven't declared any mandatory evacuations in this parish yet. Stay tuned for updates.

Terrebone Parish

Due to the potential of 2-4 feet of storm surge outside of the Terrebonne Levee and Conservation District Morganza to the Gulf Levee System and the coastal areas of Terrebonne Parish by Hurricane Delta, Parish President Gordon Dove and Terrebonne Parish Sheriff Tim Soignet are calling for a mandatory evacuation of Zone 1 of Terrebonne Parish, effective at 10 a.m. Starting 10/28, ALL residents living in manufactured homes in Zone 2, which includes the communities of Lower Dularge, Dulac, Chauvin, Montegut and Pointe Aux Chene are under a mandatory evacuation.

Voluntary Evacuations (As of 10/28):
Orleans Parish

Voluntary evacuation for areas outside levees that include Venetian Isles, Lake Catherine and Irish Bayou starting at 6 p.m. Tuesday.

Jefferson Parish

A voluntary evacuation is in effect for the town of Jean Lafitte, Lower Lafitte, Crown Point and Barataria and will go into effect at 4pm on Tuesday. This has become a mandatory evacuation.

St. Bernard Parish

Officials haven't declared any voluntary evacuations in this parish yet. Stay tuned for updates.

Plaquemines Parish

Effective 8 a.m., Wednesday, October 28, 2020 Voluntary Evacuation will be ordered for the following areas:

• The entire East Bank of Plaquemines Parish
• West Bank of Plaquemines Parish from Phillips 66 Alliance Refinery to Venice.

St. Tammany Parish

Officials haven't declared any voluntary evacuations in this parish yet. Stay tuned for updates.

Terrebone Parish

A voluntary evacuation of ONLY the Pointe-aux-Chenes area of Zone 2 effective at 10 a.m.

What schools will be closed?

Schools will likely be closed the day before the storm. Depending on the extent of the damage and various other factors (power, water, etc.) it's unknown for how long the schools will be closed for.
We recommend that you monitor your local parish's school district websites for up to date information on school closures. That being said, we'll post information as it becomes available. Please refer to this WWLTV article for up to date school closure information.
Please note, most of these notices apply to public schools. Most private institutions abide by the local Parish's closures, but please refer to your specific school for up to date information.
Additional Commentary: Sorry kids, it looks like 2020 has decided that schools will just go virtual instead of close! RIP Storm Days.
Orleans Parish

• Public Schools will do virtual learning Wednesday and Thursday.
• Catholic Schools will do virtual learning Wednesday.
• University of Holy Cross (Closed Wednesday, TBA Thursday)
• University of New Orleans (All classes will be online starting Wednesday)
• St. Katharine Drexel Prep will do virtual learning Wednesday
• SUNO will do virtual learning Wednesday
• Delgado closed Wednesday no virtual learning either (whoa!)
• Loyola will do virtual classes Wednesday. Thursday TBD.
• NOCCA will close at 1 pm Wednesday, reopen at 1 pm Thursday
• St. Katharine Drexel Prep will do virtual learning Wednesday

Jefferson Parish

• Jefferson Parish schools to do virtual learning Wednesday, Thursday classes are cancelled.
• Catholic schools will do virtual learning Wednesday
• Concordia Lutheran (Closed Wednesday)
• Ridgewood Prep closed Wednesday

St. Bernard Parish

• St. Bernard Parish public schools will do virtual learning on Wednesday
• Nunez Community College will do virtual learning Wednesday

Plaquemines Parish

• Plaquemines Parish public schools will do virtual learning until further notice

St. Tammany Parish

• St. Tammany Parish public schools will be closed Wednesday (Rare Storm Day!)
• Northshore Technical Community College will do virtual learning Wednesday
• St. Margaret Mary Catholic will conduct virtual learning Wednesday

Cat 3 then flee, otherwise I'm staying.

Cool. Good For You! Some people aren't so lucky and can't afford to stay. However, here's some general advice for those of us who are new to those whole hurricane thing:

• Expect your power to go out. Entergy NOLA is a regulated monopoly and it's hot garbage. You should anticipate your power going out for up to a month in the middle of October (Maybe Sweater Weather).
• Expect it to flood. If you're expecting the SWBNO to do their job, I have a bridge to sell you. Move your cars to the neutral ground or a high spot.
• Wear your damn masks. THIS IS A 2020 COMBO SPECIAL!
• Fill up your gas tanks. Or charge your electric car. Doesn't matter, just make sure you can leave if you need to.
• Stock up on your essentials. Do this now. Do not wait. Cosmic Brownies will sell out.
• Get cash from the ATM. What? You think credit cards and apple pay works during a power outage? Nope! Prepare to go analog and get some cold hard cash from the ATM. When you need to go to Schwegmann's to get some rice and beans, you'll be able to pay.
• Get you and your pets medicines. This is often overlooked. If you have essential medical needs, get your refills now (this includes the good bois and cool cats and kittens).
• Fill up your bathtub the night before. Boil advisories are expected and you will need water to flush the toilets.
• Put bottled water in the freezer. Trust me on this one, fill your freezer to the MAX with water bottles. It will keep your freezer colder for longer and you'll have cool water during an extended power outage. Also, keep your fridge and freezer closed for as long as you can.
• Charge your spare batteries. If you have external rechargeable batteries for your phones, charge them up now. This includes laptops as well - you can charge your phone with a laptop!
• Turn around, don't drown. Do not be a dumbass and drive through high water. I don't care if your Tesla can float or if your F150 is lifted for her pleasure. Don't drive through high water.
• GO VOTE EARLY! It's a late October surprise. Vote early so just in case the situation gets worse, you at least know you've done your civic duty, you patriot.

What should I buy?

/TropicalWeather has a fantastic mega-thread on this that we are stealing. We highly recommend visiting this link and making sure that you have all of these things in your household.
Also pop-tarts. All the pop-tarts. Brown sugar for life though.
New for October: C O S M I C B R O W N I E S

How much alcohol should I stock up on?

Yes.

What about public transportation? Will it still be operational?

While a lot of people don't have reliable alternative transportation, always make sure you have a plan. In general, you shouldn't expect public transport to operate during a hurricane. Don't rely upon it. Make plans to move to a safe location or a shelteevacuation center prior to the storm.
Should you need evacuation notices and/or assistance, please review the New Orleans Regional Transit Authority's website for further information on public transportation and and out of the city in the event of a mandatory evacuation.
Update as of 10/27 from RTA:

In preparation for expected impacts of Hurricane Zeta, the New Orleans Regional Transit Authority will suspend all bus, streetcar, and ferry services beginning at noon on Wednesday, October 28th. All transit operations will remain suspended until further notice and until it is deemed safe for service to resume.

Sandbags?

I will be publishing some of the major parishes below. For a more complete up to date list, please refer to this article on WWLTV:
Orleans Parish

In partnership with the New Orleans City Council, the City of New Orleans will provide sandbags on Tuesday, Oct. 27 from 8 a.m. to 12 p.m. (or until supplies last) at the following locations:

• Arthur Monday Center, 1111 Newton St.
• Dryades YMCA, 2220 Oretha Castle Haley Blvd.
• Saint Maria Goretti Church, 7300 Crowder Blvd.
• NOFD Engine 8, Desire and Law Streets

Jefferson Parish

Officials haven't provided any update for this parish yet. Stay tuned for updates.

St. Bernard Parish

Officials haven't provided any update for this parish yet. Stay tuned for updates.

Plaquemines Parish

Starting today, October 27, 2020, at 12 PM Noon parish-wide sandbag locations will be open. See below for sandbag locations. Residents should bring their own shovels.10 bags max. Bags will be provided. :

• Plaquemines Parish Government Complex, PROWM Building (333 F. Edward Hebert Blvd, Belle Chasse, LA 70037)
• Port Sulphur YMCA, 278 Civic Drive, Port Sulphur, LA 70083
• Buras YMCA, 36342 Hwy 11, Buras, LA 70041
• Boothville Area across from Boothville-Venice Elementary School
• Davant Community Center, 15577 Hwy 15, Braithwaite, LA 70040
• Braithwaite Auditorium, 1253 LA-39, Braithwaite, LA 70040

St. Tammany Parish

Sandbags will be available at six locations on Tuesday, Oct. 27 from 7:30 a.m. until 6 p.m. People are asked to bring their own shovels. There will be help for the elderly or infirmed.

• St. Tammany Government- Building - 21410 Koop Dr., Mandeville
• Airport Road Barn - 34783 Grantham College Rd, Slidell, La
• The Old Levee District Site - 61134 Military Road (Hwy 190) Slidell, La.
• Fritchie Barn - 63119 Highway 1090 in Pearl River
• Keller Barn - 63131 Fish Hatchery Road, Lacombe
• Covington Barn - 1305 N. Florida Street, Covington

Can you sharpie this situation away?

Neither NOAA nor FEMA recommends this. It doesn't work.

What is Damp May Never Dry!

P.S. Check out the What is Damp May Never Dry Shirts if you haven't! Almost all the profits will be given to help SW Louisiana recover from Hurricanes Laura and Delta.

FEATHERS OVER ARRETIA
WORLD BUILDING
Feathers over Arretia is an indie RPG dealing with the most serious criminal elements threatening society: smol birbs. The game takes place in the fictional city of Arretia, a modern setting with some minor fantasy elements.
To read the pitch see:
https://www.reddit.com/illegallysmolbirbs/comments/k0p19n/thanksgiving_announcement_the_illegallysmolbirbs/?utm_source=reddit&utm_medium=usertext&utm_name=illegallysmolbirbs&utm_content=t3_kexuy4
To read the first dev diary where I go into the characters you can play as see:
https://reddit.com/illegallysmolbirbs/comments/kexuy4/christmas_announcement_dev_diary_1_the_dream_team/
HISTORY
PART I
THE FOUNDING MYTHS
All great cities of the Ancient World have foundation myths, Arretia is no different. There are competing stories that claim legitimacy as the “true” foundation myth of the city. Both have considerable academic merit and the debate has continued for centuries as to which is the “true” myth. However recent excavations on the Mount of Cages, which contains some of the most ancient remains of the old part of the city, have revealed a third story in recent years that is as popular as it is fantastic.
Myth 1 – The Aristotelian Connection
334BC
Crowned King of Macedon at age 20 with the death of his father Phillip II, Alexander consolidated power on the Greek countryside, taking on Illyria, Thebes and Athens before continuing his father’s life’s work: the invasion of Persia.
In 334 BC Alexander set foot upon the shore of Asia Minor opposite the Hellespont and claimed the entirety of it’s continent with the ceremonial thrust of a spear into the ground.
His tutor and advisor Aristotle, perhaps the smartest man alive at the time, prudently informed the young conqueror with a whisper that this moment should be commemorated for posterity as generations would want to know where it was the gods themselves acquiesced to his demands for land.
Alexander’s exact response isn’t known but he broadly let Aristotle know that if it was so important, he could do it.
So a small shrine was erected at the spot where the spear lay, consecrated by a priestess of Delphi retained with the party for such events and a plaque was written in Greek and Persian telling all who could read of its history. Aristotle himself dictated the passage and etched his own mark into the bottom with hammer and chisel.
In May 334 BC, when Alexander defeated Memnon of Rhodes in The Battle of the Granicus River, the first blow against the might of Persia, Aristotle recommended a similar monument be made. Alexander was impudent and demanded the tutor just make a sign pointing to the last shrine to save time. A slip of the lip caused that sign to read “Με αυτόν τον τρόπο στην πλάκα του Αριστοτέλη” or “This way to Aristotle’s plaque.”
Some say that this mistake made its way back to the young King who decided to make sure such a mistake could never again occur, founding innumerable cities in his own name from that day forward. Ironically, playing right into Aristotle’s original ploy to get Alexander serious about building a legacy and not just pursuing glory in vanity.
Over decades, the spear was eventually stolen and the shrine looted but the plaque remained stalwart and vivid as the day it was carved, as did the signs directing people to its location.
But “Aristotle’s plaque” became shortened to “Aristotle’s [land]” and eventually was misread as Arretia in a Roman census which stuck around to the present day.
Myth 2 – The Disgraced Commander
323 BC
Even before Alexander’s retreat from India in the final year of his life, the empire he had spent years building was already in danger of crumbling.
Disloyal generals, governors and bureaucrats of the West who once groveled at his feet were no longer cowed upon his departure to lands further and further East. Threats of rebellion simmered and the empire was already being carved up by conspirators in back rooms long before Alexander ever lay upon his deathbed.
Before the Wars of the Diadochi tore this empire asunder a dozen times, one of Alexander’s most loyal allies Antigonus I who had followed him all the way from Greece having served his father Philip II had his son Antigonus II sent in secret back to his holdings in Macedon with a fortune in gold to build support for his claim to the empire once Alexander finally died without an heir.
However his return was slow and exorbitant as the young noble caroused at every city and village on the long journey from Persia and by the time he had finally reached The Hellespont, not only was much of his fortune squandered but his own party betrayed him, throwing him off of the gangway at the last second before boarding ship which sailed towards Crete. Either bad fortune or the very wrath of the gods saw it cast to the bottom of the Aegean where the gold remains undiscovered to this day.
Learning of his son’s incompetent failure, Antigonus I had his name stricken from history and rewrote his family lineage so that Demetrius I was his issue, not Antigonus II. Historians debate how much gold was lost in this event but many agree that had the trip been successful, Antigonus I might have bought-off Ptolemy long enough to keep the empire from falling to civil war.
Yet locals still recall in vivid detail the folly of Antigonus II and took to calling the area where he was betrayed as ανόητος ηλίθιος στη νερό (silly idiot in the water) which was shortened over time to ατοςιος σερό and eventually αρτηρία or Arretia today.
Myth 3 – The First Flight
440 BC
In 1989, a small excavation at the Mount of Cages began as a joint effort by the Committee of Arretian Historical Preservation (CAHP) and the Fine Arts College of Arretia (FACA) to find relics of the city’s past succeeded and may have changed history with its discovery of a plaque far more ancient than any others before it.
On this plaque in worn Copper and Jade was the following: 𒀀𒆷𒀸𒊭𒄠𒈪𒅖𒉺𒋫𒀀𒀸𒉿𒈾𒀜𒋾𒅖 (Wanattis patas Alasammis) along the faint impression of a human foot.
Tests determined the plaque to be authentic, tracing back to the middle of the 5th Century B.C.
The human foot was determined to be that of a young woman.
One enterprising youth working on a PHD in Comparative Linguistic Studies suggested that the engraving might be Luwian Swadesh, a form of ancient Cuneiform thought to be used by the Trojans.
Translated the plaque reads: “[where from] the sea [a] woman’s foot.”
Although the subject on intense debate between Arretian, Turkish and Greek scholars, it is believed by some that this spot was where Helen of Troy first stepped on land after being abducted by Prince Paris in the time immediately before the Trojan War. This theory is buoyed due to Arretia’s proximity to the ruins of Troy and soil erosion patterns suggest that the Mount of Cages was at one time a natural jetty sticking out into the sea.
Now a Professor Emeritus of the Linguistics Department of the FACA, Dr. Merlin Bruce Codlack’s book “Beneath the Mount” maintains that the old form of Trojan gave rise to the common use of the name Arretia for the area over centuries as the spoken language was invaded by Greek cognates which turned “Alsammis” and “patas” to “Arretpatas” by the time of Alexander who adopted the name simplifying it to Arretia in the process.
PART II
ANCIENT HISTORY
The meteoric ascendancy of Greece during the time of Alexander brought prosperity to Asia Minor along with immigration at rates unheard of. Due to its strategic position in a natural harbor, a small trading community sprang up in the region which grew at an accelerated pace due the influx of trade between itself, Byzantium and Rhodes.
Ancient merchants who spoke of the glory of the Colossus as it was being built in the 3rd Century BC made mention of the cheap provisions that could be had a few days sail further along the coast at Arretia which now boasted a considerable farming community lured to the area by cheap land and fertile soil.
Migrating herds of black cattle moving along transits laid by the Hittites 1,000s of years earlier became an increasingly common site in the town. Before long, the citizens had erected crude palisades and a considerable watchtower upon what would later be known as the Mount of Cages where a band of far-sighted archer mercenaries from across the Greek world stood ever vigilant, paid in turn with generous land grants and even more gracious payment than could be found anywhere else in the Mediterranean.
PART III
PRE-ROMAN OCCUPATION
Centuries of good fortune, prosperity and mild weather turned the small town into a bustling city by the time of Rome. Generations of increasingly confident watchmen and prudent city defense planning had turned the once wooden tower into a stone monolith which through the clever use of mirrors and a coal fire was able to light the sea for miles around at night while lenses developed by Archimedes himself at Syracuse were re-engineered to make Arretian scouts unrivaled marksmen capable of sighting fleets days before they would normally be spotted – in no small part egged on by a merchant class of considerable power which gambled heavily and recklessly with commodity speculation. A common phrase at the time was “no grain ship can leave Alexandria for Rome without some Arretian knowing about it, selling and trading its cargo before the sails are even unfurled.”
All of these marvels paled in comparison to Rhodes to the South and Arretians prided themselves on being the underdog rival, resulting in a hundred fortunes lost beneath the soaring arm of the Colossus won back under Arretia’s stone monolith.
Despite most mapmakers placing Arretia firmly within the bounds of the territories of the Seleucid Empire, the only tax ever paid to that crumbling backwater was a single pure silver slug approximately 10 grams in weight paid annually by one of the many merchant families via courier addressed directly to the King of the Seleucids. When this tradition first started with the founding of the city during the days of Alexander, such a payment was a king’s ransom but over time became so much of a pittance that the families boasted decades of “taxes” were pre-paid in their basement next to the cheap wine and how droll it all seemed that some distant king truly needed the money.
In 217 BC, the Selucid King Antiochus III the Great in an attempt to revive the dying empire made war on Egypt and lost at the Battle of Raphia. Though bloodied, the king engaged in a restructuring of his lands which was mostly focused on quelling rebellions and consolidating power in the East while giving up on retaking Syria for the time being. In service to these efforts, he raised taxes and Arretia found itself the subject of an event that has been colloquially known as The Shaming of The King.
The story goes that the Seleucid King’s tax collector arrived in Arretia to find its walls (once wooden now solid stone) manned with troops in full battle regalia and the gate locked. However the side gate (known as the Eye of the Sling) was opened just enough that he might crawl through it and a small banner made of finest silk confirmed that was expected of him saying “για τους φτωχούς (for the poor)” with an arrow pointing down at it. The tax collector humbly crawled down into the gate finding it covered in animal muck and mud along the bottom. When he crossed the threshold the patriarchs of the merchant families stood proud and tall alongside strongboxes arrayed before him. When the tax collector stood up, covered in filth, the men tipped the boxes over, showering his feet in silver coins a hundred deep which sank quickly into the mud before walking silently back to their estates without a word. Tradition states that the tax collector spent days sifting through the muck as it hardened, collecting a small fortune before realizing he had no possible way to carry it back to his King in the East. Legend states that he stole a muck-rakers cart and escaped through the gate which had been left open in the meantime with a pile of silver and dung half a man high. He was eventually able to find passage back in less humiliating fashion but the message was clear: Arretia thought King Antiochus III to be a common beggar, no more.
PART IV
ROMAN INVOLVEMENT
The Vote
By the 1st Century BC Rome’s ascendancy was all but assured. While Carthage remained a valuable trade partner, its destruction in the Third Punic War half a century earlier made even the richest houses of Arretia quake with fear. In 145 BC, exactly one year after her strongest ally was burnt to the ground and her fields salted the great houses organized a plebiscite.
All adult male citizens and freemen or women who owned property were allowed to vote. Voting occurred over a three week period allowing even the most disparate of farmers or merchants out at sea an opportunity to vote.
The vote was simple: shall Arretia resist Rome, yay or nay? Nay votes were symbolized by a feather from a rooster, chosen at random in the market stalls from vendors as part of a lot system while the yay votes came from hens along similar lines. Over three weeks it is said there was not a single unplucked chicken in Anatolia. On the final day it was found that the ‘nays’ had won by a landslide and the great houses debated how best to interpret this matter.
The three richest houses proclaimed they would sign a treaty of friendship with Rome, offering them a similar deal to that offered to the now defunct Seleucid Empire.
Over the Winter a grand ceremony was planned and preparations made for the envoy.
The Landing
Two great ships were built, The Romulus of Apollo and The Remus of Februus, adorned in gold and silver respectively. Carried by sails of silk, rowed by the tallest slaves of Parthia, full of exotic spices from the Far East, captained by men who claimed to have reached the Southern-most Tip of Africa and full of a ransom fit for any three emperors combined, along with a single daughter of each great home trained in Latin, the fleet anchored off Rome’s Portus artificial harbor off the north bank of the Tiber on April 5th, 144 BC on the dawn of the Festival of Fortuna Publica, or the "luck of the people."
The young women approached the senate and handed forth reams of purple vellum explaining the offer of Arretia to the upstart hegemon. Lucius Aurelius Cotta, Counsul a the time and elected during the Fortuna Publica festival in 154 BC coincidentally, accepted the terms: Arretia would provide logistical support, technical expertise and ships to the Roman Navy 10 talents of silver annually paid to the Roman Senate Build a new Pantheon in Arretia for the Roman Gods Rome would exempt her citizens of any taxes or drafts Rome would become her protectorate should any enemies declare war on the merchant republic
The Byzantine Period
While Rome seemed unstoppable, Arretia was a haven of intellectual involvement and oligarchy as the richest men and women of the known world demanded citizenship, if only to avoid the harsh taxation of Rome at home. Soon there was a row of homes, all empty, where dozens of Arretian “citizens” “lived” but even the most fastidious bureaucrat in Italy was hopelessly lost in the ocean of paperwork Arretian civil servants produced daily.
So it was that when Constantine the Great decreed that Constantinople would be the new Capitol of the Roman Empire, the whole of Arretia held its breath. Along with his tax reform and re-issuance of the currency (debasing it with cheaper metals and forcing all Roman citizens to pay in coin for government fees and taxes), Constantine demanded Arretia triple their existing tribute until Constantinople was finished with construction of the Hagia Sophia (Megale Ekklesia or Big Church) Arretian merchants, craftsmen, builders, surveyors and brick layers descended upon the new city like a flock seagulls upon an uncovered market stall, determined to have it finished in record time.
Legend has it that for every brick laid in Constantinople, another was laid in Arretia. The old Pantheon was retrofitted behind closed gates and under grand tents. On February 15th, 360 AD during the reign of the emperor Constantius II when The Hagia Sophia was concentrated and opened to the public. While The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem had more artifacts on display, The Hagia Sophia held the seat of the Ecumenical Patriarch and The Pantheon still had the largest dome in the world, The Ecclesiae Baptismate (Church of the Baptism) contained by some estimates nearly 40% of all pieces of the True Cross to exist in the world at the time, ironically making the Cross replica itself nearly 74 feet tall.
The Plague
The Plague of Justinian 541 AD killed untold millions throughout the world, originating in either Asia or Africa, the first documented reports of its involvement according to Byzantine source Procopius was in Egypt’s port of Pelusium.
The Arretians tell a different story.
In 540 AD a sailor from the Far East was found floating in the Indian Ocean 100 miles off the coast of Axum by an unknown Arretian vessel. Its captain recorded in stone tablet (as all wood and papers had dissolved in the salt water) this message. He then scuttled the vessel to the bottom of the sea to protect the world as best he could and forestall the inevitable coming devastation:

The [man] is turning black before our eyes as though some fire burns from within his groin and [armpits]. The spits the most vile [substances] and convulses in the night. I notice [on myself] the same growing painful lumps and it is my duty to stop this [plague] before my crew are infected. May God have mercy on [us]. 

Spies and merchants (if there ever was truly a distinction to the Arretians) reported on rumors in Pelusium of a sickness that spread like locusts.
The 15 Great Houses of Arretia held an emergency meeting that very night, un-customarially sharing all possible information on the sickness and concluded in a matter of hours that the city must survive, no matter the costs.
In the most Arretian way possible a 2 day state of emergency was declared. Any and all food stores were seized, any and all ship traffic in the harbor was seized, the bowels of all ships emptied while furious captains were silenced with bags of silver too large to carry by any one pack animal, and sent back to their port of call without explanation.
The countryside was picked clean and all foreign citizens warned to not return to the city upon pain of death. The walls were redoubled with temporary wooden facades, the gates sealed shut with leaded locks for which no key was made. From the highest aviaries to the lowest jetties, not an inch of the city went upturned. Every fishing boat was impressed and triple staffed for back-to-back shifts until the sea around Arretia was scraped clean of all marine life.
On the last night, all boats were returned to the harbor where they were dismantled, along with the harbor itself while the stone edifices of the great houses and mansions of the typically unoccupied but ostentatious ‘Roman Quarter’ were thrown into the harbor creating a temporary breakwater which was reinforced with pitch and tar until water sealed and a great fire set ablaze on the shore. Boiling water in so great a quantity bathed the city in salt, collected from windows, walls and the ground itself to preserve every scrap of meat and fish possible.
An especially hardy species of mushroom from far off Gaul of the Grooty Strain (brought over by some trader years earlier) was discovered growing underneath a porch and at once a massive team of laborers set to work retrofitting every basement, vault and catacomb into nurseries for the tiny gray intrusive species.
On the dawn of the third day Arretia had gone from a glittering example of the height of civility into a militarized, insular micro-nation where the rich and poor alike bore the filth of manual labor and the treasures of a dozen generations lay in the hands of foreign nations that had no idea why they had reversed centuries of trade policy on a whim.
Only Justinian’s spies had even a clue and they warned him that the Empire of Rome itself might do the same, a premise shouted down in the Senate a handful of times until bodies started piling up in the street, far too late to matter.
Accurate records are not possible but it is said Arretia lost a tenth of her population to starvation, rioting and disease. But not one single death from plague was ever noted.
By the time the Black Plague entered the world, Arretia had learned from the mistakes of the past and had years worth of imperishable stocked away in hidden caves with secondary and even third basements covered in edible plants that thrived in the dank, lightless environment supplying a grateful populous who still shared stories of the darkest time in her history. The Venetians claim to have invented the Quarantine but in fact, Arretia had perfected the practice while Venice was still flotsam floating in the Adriatic Sea.
PART V – THE OTTOMANS
Almost 500 years of constant war, against the Huns, Cumans, Samaritans, Sassanids, Seljuks and others on just her Eastern borders, the Byzantine Empire strained at the edges and much of Asia Minor was lost to the Turks. In 1071AD a number of very forward-thinking members of the Great Houses of Arretia sent spies along with the Roman Emperor Romanos IV Diogenes in his campaign to once again bring all of Anatolia under Roman rule. At the Battle of Manzikert on August 26, 1071AD two very important events took place:

1. The Emperor himself was captured and would be paraded throughout the Seljuk Empire in chains before ransomed at a price even the Arretians found exorbitant 2. The Arretians returned upon the fastest horses money could buy from dubious mercenary Pechenegs in the middle of the night still drunk on the glory of victory 

The Great Houses were divided on whether or not to prop up an Empire that seemed on the brink of collapse who they had sunk mountains of gold and silver into in the hope that they could once again establish themselves in the hinterlands, whether they should take advantage of the weakness of Rome to declare independence and even take Constantinople while it remained unguarded by her legions or bend knee to the Turks. The matter was put to vote, however in order to maintain perfect secrecy only members of the ruling families were able to participate, those that were in the city at the time that is. By a margin of exactly 1 vote which came from what would later be described as “the desiccated corpse of a Pater familias dug up from a catacomb, adorned in sweet perfumes and operated by a series of pulleys and bellows,” Arretia switched sides.
Some say The Cross in The Ecclesiae Baptismate which had towered over pilgrims for hundreds of years was torn down that morning while other historians maintain it was buried under a nearby hill until such time as the city could be returned to its old faith safely. Whatever the case, the building was converted to a Grand Mosque and a procession left a few days later to pay homage to their new suzerain in Isfahan.
A cohort of 400 of the strongest boys Arretia had to offer arrived at the head of the caravan, to comprise the a contingent of troops that over time would come to be the Elite Janissary of the Ottoman Empire. With them came oxen laden with ten years worth of tribute in gold, and the plans for a massive highway to be built along the route to facilitate trade between the new allies.
Sultan Alp Arslan’s Grand Viser accepted the terms as dictated by the Arretians after hardly a glance at the treaty, so great was his desire to impress such a fabulously wealthy nation that came crawling on its knees without the rattle of a saber, they were essentially the same as offered the Romans before him and the Ottoman Fleet quadrupled in size with the flourish of a quill upon purple parchment.
The Arrentians, with the exception of those cohorts they sent every year and what few sailors they could not procure from elsewhere, remained circumspect of their new Ottoman masters and it is often said that even the Imam in the Grand Mosque still wore a cross under his robes. Though coffeehouses, hookah dens and other Near Eastern proprietors were already common in the city, a new flood of Turkish shops came and went as they realized that the Arretians were terribly nepotistic in their shopping patterns and the Great Houses were willing to sell storefronts with one hand while making sure no suppliers or contracts would ever make it through customs with the other. While the flag above the city changed shape and color, its people still walked through Roman style bathhouses and drank wine freely in the plazas and museums.
Over the centuries during the Siege of Malta in 1429 AD, Siege of Rhodes 1522 AD, the Second Siege of Malta in 1565 AD, and Constantinople itself in 1203 AD, 1204 AD, 1235 AD, 1236 AD, 1376 AD , 1391AD, 1394-1402AD, 1411AD, 1422 AD and finally 1453 AD, it is said the families of Arretia wept as openly as their once-bretherin Romans. There stands a plaque in the central plaza listing the name of every Arretian who died in those sieges, to the puzzlement of modern historians it seems that either those commissioning the plaque were unconcerned with accuracy or almost 10% of those three cities were comprised of Arretians. DNA testing of survivors is inconclusive but ongoing.
PART VI – MODERN HISTORY
The Ottoman Empire waned with time, eventually becoming the “Sick Man of Europe” and the West conspired for decades over who would get Arretia for their own like squabbling children looking at the will of a man on life support.
Following the conclusion of WW1 and the imposition of the Treaty of Sèvres on August 10th, 1920 Arretia was nominally under Italian rule for the first time in 100s of years.
In a drunken, semi-coherent speech in April 1923, ‘Il Duce’ Benito Mussolini (having recently succeeded in a coup the year previous and setting about dissolving any political opposition) proclaimed to an audience of fellow blackshirts that “Direct rule from Rome would begin again in Arretia by morning!”
The following morning Moussolini awoke with a hangover and a single feather on his pillow beside him. Thinking nothing of it, as he was used to errant feathers poking out of his pillow from time to time, he simply re-fluffed his own pillow to find it strangely heavy and lumpy.
Opening the case, he found it stuffed full of Italian Lire, exactly ₤ 2,250. The same amount he had mailed to his Mistress for rent that month. In a rush he grabbed a phone and had the operator connect him with her, who answered very surprised as she pointed out he himself had paid her rent via check and spent the night with her before leaving in the very early morning.
It took hours for his bank to confirm the check was genuine and his signature authentic. Moussolini called for Achille Starace, the Press Secretary of the Office of the Presidency of the Council and his brother Arnaldo Mussolini, the editor of the state-occupied Fascist newspaper Il Popolo, to shred any and all documentation of his speech the night before.
In a single night, Italian dreams of returning Arretia to its dominion vanished.
Rumor has it that Carmine Coppola heard the story from a relative who was there that night for the speech and told an impressionable Francis Ford Coppola about it in his childhood, sparking the famous horse’s head scene in 1972’s The Godfather. The Italian government has neither confirmed nor denied the connection.
Arretian pseudo-independence was celebrated by thousands of sailors between 1940 and 1943 who’s lives were protected by their ‘Eagle-eyed guides’ spotting submarines at the last second, steering unarmed convoys away from sea mines or even bad weather long range radar couldn’t pick up. During the Battle of Britain, those same guides filled in gaps left by long-range spotter balloons and rode along RAF Spitfires and P-51s when their own spotters, gunners and even pilots were too tired, wounded or shaken to keep the skies friendly.
Though not formally invited to the Yalta Conference in February, 1945, Arretian diplomats helped steer Marshall Plan funding for years, were instrumental in negotiations for the Treaty of Paris in 1951, creating the European Coal and Steel Community, were the first non-continental member of the EU in 1973, wrote almost half of the Maastricht Treaty in 1993, kept the Common Currency negotiations from falling apart in 1999, bought half of all Greek Debt during the European Financial Crisis of 2008 and ironically now own half of all proven European Oil Reserves due to meddling in Brexit Negotiations just two years ago, buying North Sea drilling rights for pence on the Euro. While the EU is ruled from Brussels, most politicians would concede that most legislation is written in Arretia using Arretian ink by Arretian claws and hands alike.

The main character, Mike Schmidt, has started a job working as a night guard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a restaurant owned by the fictional "Fazbear Entertainment". Mike's predecessor leaves a voicemail message each night and explains different aspects of the history of the restaurant. The message is left for a now-deceased Robert Clawson. The game begins by Mike picking up the message, listening to it, and walking around the restaurant, finding out that Freddy Fazbear and his robots have begun chasing the teddy bear Chica for unknown reasons, with Freddy looking for the key to the safe containing his money, Chica hiding in a venetian mask, trying to avoid the two to save her own life, and the animals as she is possessed by one of the robots, starting off with her collar to make her chew. The player is left to try and beat the the robotic animal as it chases the player around the restaurant. The game ends once the player successfully defeats the robotic animal, the safe is reopened and all the employees are free to move, and every memory, name, and family a person has are wiped clean. But after he is safe, Yawn begins to feel the tremors, however the servo's need to work, so he restrains himself from being down and berated him for not being able to do his job properly. However, as the story ends, Yawn tells the player that as long as a soul is present in his head, his work is never finished and thus he can never stop, the player begins the game again with another phone message, this time from someone who identifies themselves as Mike Schmidt. The game ends with "Mike" saying that the restaurant is closing due to certain rumours spreading about the death of the previous night guards.
Pandora stirred from her sleepy state as she looked out the window of the van. The yellow, orange, and red trees sprung to life as her vision focused. She was on a trip with her three best friends. Pink hair and a huge green bow in her hair - Cassie, Jade, and Devon. It was her first time spending a holiday with them and she couldn't have been more excited. They were all in their late teens or early twenties. They were like family to her, so much so that they were her only friends, because her real friends lived a long way away. The sun shining through the windows made Pandora smile. This was probably the best holiday she had ever had.
This was written using InferKit

Never before have I been responsible for such a terrible blunder.
Today I (21F) had laundry to do. I'm a 3rd year university student, but due to COVID I currently study from home. While growing up I was never taught how to use any of the household appliances, and my mom never really made me do anything while I was in high school. But when I got into uni I had to do some things myself now. I live in a rented apartment in the other city, where everything is modern and easy to use. (I have a cool landlord who can fix anything that starts to misbehave.) But as mentioned, I'm currently home, where I've lived my whole life.
It was sunny today and I decided to wash some of my clothes. It was all going well, underwear, pillow cases, no problem; I was doing it all by hand, but I'm used to it. Then I wanted to do the socks, since I'm down to my last clean pair. They filled a whole plastic basin though, and I thought "no way I'm doing all of this by hand". Of course, I open the laundry machine door, load it up, detergent, all seemed well. I go about my day.
Some time later, while I'm eating a cookie and drinking, I hear a very suspicious water noise, as if there's a river at home. "Its getting rid if the soapy water, it's close to done then, but why does it sound different than usual?" I think. After finishing this thought a wave of horror hits me and I quickly go in the other room, only to see that half the carpet is soaking wet, and the hose is spewing water behind the laundry machine with the speed of light. I stop the program, inspect, and find that I've forgotten to fix the water hose to the sink. My mom's washing machine is older than me, and the water doesn't go directly down a drain connected to the sewer, but instead goes through a hose which must be hanged properly to the sink edge, otherwise... well... the water has nowhere to go but the floor.
Aside from the carpet, a few other rugs got wet as well, and some shoes which were close enough got sprayed with soap water too. The wall suffered too, hopefully the paint doesn't change color.
I call my mom, who is at work, ask where the rags are, I try to prevent the water from going further, to no avail. I sacrificed a dish towel as well, but in vain. When I tried to rub the carpet dry, the water was creating bubbles because of the detergent, so I decided to stop using this method. Then I decided to get rid of the carpet itself, and carry it to the balcony to dry. The only problem with that is that I couldn't lift the laundry machine and pull the carpet from underneath it at once. So I basically got the carpet halfway lifted and rolled up, but now the laundry machine is in a weird position from me trying to pull the carpet from underneath it. To top it off, my mother will be coming home later than usual, and so now I have a wet mess waiting for her to come home, as if being a teacher is not stress enough, now she'll have to come home to my mess. It's a good thing the floor is made of stone, so although wet, it won't leak down below to my cousin's apartment.
But the fuck-ups don't end there.
While trying to move the washing machine I knocked over a magnetic souvenir from Italy, and the magnet separated from the little Venetian mask. No problem, it can be fixed. I get the glue, squeeze, and as always - nothing comes out. I'm not the most patient person, so I squeeze the tube again. The glue comes out. And it doesn't stop coming out. I try to plug it, make it stop, nothing works. I give up and close it, and go to wash my hands before the glue dries on my fingers. I used acetone, rubbing alcohol, soap - my fingers were still in glue.
Then I told myself "enough for today; this is why I'm su!c!dal", left everything as it is, and decided to just sit down and surf the web before I bring the whole apartment down.
TL;DR - I forgot to fixate the laundry machine water hose to the sink and washed the carpet as well as my socks; then glued my fingers in attempt to fix a broken item.

Baker's x White's Custom Semi Dress Boot
Shout-out to my friend for taking photos with a real camera rather than the usual potato phone...
1 Year In . . .
Original review here: https://www.reddit.com/goodyearwelt/comments/eaksjm/initial_impressions_whites_custom_semi_dress/
4 months review here: https://www.reddit.com/goodyearwelt/comments/gcfjn2/bakers_x_whites_custom_semi_dress_in_brown_dress/

Last: Standard Toe Vamp Leather: Brown Dress Upper (Shaft) Leather: Brown Dress Leather Liner: Canyon Red Pull Loops: No Thanks Toe Cap: No Thanks Celastic Toe Box: None (had to ask for unstructured) Hardware: Antique Eyes & Hooks Midsole: Single Edge: Brown Heel Base: Standard Heel Lifts: Standard Sole: Vibram Composition Half Sole Sole Trim: Close Trim (Single Row Stitch) Size - Length: 7.5 Size - Width: FF (widest) 

Ordering: Bought from Baker's. As usual, Kyle and the customer service are among the best I have ever experienced. Real pleasure ordering from them.
Sizing: These are US 7.5FF (EEEE) on the 55 last. I was originally sized by Kyle at Baker’s in this size. I’ve since then adjusted the sizing to a 7.5 FFF/FF combo last. For an upcharge, White’s can turn a last into a combo (“combination”) last, which means they make the forefront of the boot wider while keeping the heel a size slimmer. This is very useful if your foot is wider at the ball and narrower at the heel. These are slightly narrow for my liking, I will probably get them rebuilt on the 4811 smokejumper or the 55 last as a 7.5FFF/FF when it comes time to resole them.
You can see here how my pinky toes have stretched the leather over onto the welt.
Leather: White's Brown Dress, a cowhide from Seidel Tannery. One of my favorite leathers. Good break, durable, and supportive without being stiff. Less supple than Chromexcel. A deep dark brown with a good sheen, especially if you use Venetian Shoe Cream. Will scuff off and patina to a lighter brown creating some gorgeous colors later in its life. I am a huge fan of the “tea-core.”
Sole: Vibram composition half-sole. Grip on these is excellent even when worn down. No slippage on wet surfaces unlike cough dainite. White's Vibram composition half sole is also a valuable option because it adds a second leather midsole/sole free of charge (yusss more lethur!).
Heel and arches:White’s standard loggewoodsman heel. The arch support is fantastic although with the higher heel I have started to notice I carry more tension in my lower back when standing in these for long periods of time. Great for walking though, feels natural with them, almost better than barefoot. The added height is a huge plus as well, when I wear these I can confidently say to girls “I’m 5’10.”
One thing I love about the loggewoodsman heel is how with break-in the heel molds and "cups" the back quarter of the boot. See the comparison when new here how the heel had a sharp, flat top and now the heel snugly holds the upper.
As always with the arches, they have broken in wonderfully. You can see how the heel has compressed at the arches to match the natural contour of my instep.
Care and Maintenance: Brushed regularly and stored with cedar shoe trees. These are 1 year old and I have not conditioned them yet, but I did wash them several months back with Lexol Leather Cleaner. I will likely apply a light coat of Venetian Shoe Cream to these this week. Over the summer I sanded down the edges and applied a brown edge dressing.
Use and wear: I use these as a pair of boots I can beat-up. With some of my other White’s, like my Natural Chromexcel Bounty Hunters, I do not wear them on hikes or for doing manual labor; it is not that they are not incredibly solid, but more so that the leather can age without scuffs and excess dirt. These I will throw on for any occasion.
Feel and Impression: They may be the "semi-dress" option for White's but these things are absolute units. They are heavy, over-engineered to the point of ridiculousness for my daily needs, and are overall one of my most favored pieces of footwear.
Album Again

EDIT: I’m deleting this in 24hours. The baseless denial and shit talking i keep Getting isn’t worth my time or energy. I just wanted to be helpful to anyone who may have the same understanding and independent open thought that I try to have. I’m happy to DM and brainstorm anyone anything I find with significance.
“Everybody that denies it didn’t know me and they won’t, say nothin else”
Malcom is alive. There is a way fair-esque death faking “service”, and he is living in Venice Italy.
Google “Odey c uxpo la coroner”
Scroll to bottom click “more” button a few results below you’ll find a result “residentswap” feel free to check the site out, take a look at the “reviews” and especially the hyperlinked “thescurlockscene.blog.org”
I prefer not to get deep into this because it’s a rabbit hole far too deep to get involved in.
I imagine breaking bad vacuum cleaner store type situation.
EDIT2: I apologize for posting this without any set focal point and it just being a bunch of jumbled up bits of information.
What made me think and soon after convinced me of him being alive was the third verse of “die” that I’ve spent numerous hours trying to decode. Mac enjoys and is very knowledgeable about latin, Roman philosophy, ancient texts and history, see: references to Dante’s inferno in Bill etc....
Begins at 3:03 Mark ———————————————— I got this motherfucker rented-
his housing located somewhere in Italy(most likely Venice) is rented
I kinda get a(n) Adventus(ceremony)-
The adventus was a ceremony in ancient Rome, in which an emperor was formally welcomed into a city[1] either during a progress or after a military campaign, often (but not always) Rome
I wanted to feed a fenix - fenix is Latin for Phoenix which is also a mythological “fabulous, sacred, bird Who’s motto is:” Post Fata Resurgo “which translated to English is: “After my death I rise once again. “ coincidentally, la fenice an opra house named the Phoenix that rose from ashes is located in... Venice Italy.
Have fun and fade to Venice - obvious I got money on my minutes - he has money on his prepaid international cell phone(s)
Punna be dependent ? Pona Bede pennant ? If you got get a rut - - vase? I’ll hop right in front of and the smile - - - -been a very bad winter that I’m tryna face?? I got a bunch of motherfuckers that lie to my face Everybody that denies it didn’t know me and they won’t, say nothin else
Whispers at 4:10 Song titled: Die Leaked July 29 2020(?)
Malcolm wrote & recorded these songs after his death. There can either be one of three explanations.
He is/was writing, producing, and recording these “leaked” tracks whilst in Italy; there are so many different examples to choose from and I mean almost every single song that was leaked that sounded more recent.
I will only leave a few that really stands out.
(they all do if you consider the possibility and listen once again)
If you don’t care or think it’s bullshit, read this at least.
Hey, hey, hey New day, new city Travel across the country, picked up like a kidney Shit, we smokin' like a hippie Feelin' trippy, gettin' jiggy, tryna boogie it down like it's the '60s DJ, could you play my song?
Low quality versions of “Coolin'” were played by CLOCKWORKDJ on Instagram Live on May 10, 2020

• “Coolin” is just insane. The amount of shit he hints

continued a few lines after:
“skinny dippin', plenty women would be chillin' Feelin' like I'm simple livin', cooler than the air condition room So I peaced on a deuce: [?] Spittin' exactly how I'm livin', hey”
The boy doper than Kurt Cobain People tryna act like they ain't heard my name before [?] to the core Tryna walk into the mall with money, cleanin' out the store Used to be a scrub and now I'm gettin' all this love Probably because these motherfuckers see I got it buzzed [?] diss my song, you better put it on And I stay with thumbs up like The Fonz Ayy, cooler than the sun shade Feelin' like a lazy motherfucker on a Sunday One day, my money gon' be tall like Dikembe Mutombo [?] bow to your sensei Never follow what both my parents say 'Cause life is dope and we get paid, hey
“Sunday“
This room is gettin' pretty close to vacant Better listen to the music when it's playin'
“Newspaper”
“Had that goddamn in '09, that holy shit the next year Standin' on the coastline, the flows a bit too wet here Most these motherfuckers are so easy to forget here Toast to those who hold your own I'm coast to coast through postal codes The flow is cold as overcoats, I'm blowin' smoke at police Fuck 'em, we ain't never gonna trust 'em, let me go free”
I'm a dog, but aware of all my flaws I'm a martyr for the cause On the run, never bring it to a jog, no This my job, though”
“Sunday “ (Leak)
“Now these people wonder who dat?! Watch me go to work oh yes I’m rollin up sleeves”
Notable Lyrics (this and other leaks mostly) - “Came Alone” (Leak)
“This room is gettin' pretty close to vacant Better listen to the music when it's playin”'
-“Die” (Leak)

• “I wonder, can I make a little money without sellin' my soul?”
  
• “Two packs(moving)a day, you could say I upgraded”
  

- “But fuck bein' famous, I just wanna be alive”

• “Don't trip, breath of fresh air if you want it”
  
• “They always starin' at me kinda like they seen a ghost.”
  

EDIT: since people are calling me disrespectful and saying these things have no grounds to even be considered a possibility, I will explain in detail in a few hours each lyric and why it means something along with photos of every source of information I have posted here & more.
Historical References (grossly incomplete due to no knowledge of Venetian Roman or Ancient Greek)
CAN ANYONE AMPLIFY AND/OR EDIT THE AUDIO OF WHISPERING AND THE WEIRD SOUNDING MAN

HISTORY
PART I
THE FOUNDING MYTHS
All great cities of the Ancient World have foundation myths, Arretia is no different. There are competing stories that claim legitimacy as the “true” foundation myth of the city. Both have considerable academic merit and the debate has continued for centuries as to which is the “true” myth. However recent excavations on the Mount of Cages, which contains some of the most ancient remains of the old part of the city, have revealed a third story in recent years that is as popular as it is fantastic.
Myth 1 – The Aristotelian Connection
334BC
Crowned King of Macedon at age 20 with the death of his father Phillip II, Alexander consolidated power on the Greek countryside, taking on Illyria, Thebes and Athens before continuing his father’s life’s work: the invasion of Persia.
In 334 BC Alexander set foot upon the shore of Asia Minor opposite the Hellespont and claimed the entirety of it’s continent with the ceremonial thrust of a spear into the ground.
His tutor and advisor Aristotle, perhaps the smartest man alive at the time, prudently informed the young conqueror with a whisper that this moment should be commemorated for posterity as generations would want to know where it was the gods themselves acquiesced to his demands for land.
Alexander’s exact response isn’t known but he broadly let Aristotle know that if it was so important, he could do it.
So a small shrine was erected at the spot where the spear lay, consecrated by a priestess of Delphi retained with the party for such events and a plaque was written in Greek and Persian telling all who could read of its history. Aristotle himself dictated the passage and etched his own mark into the bottom with hammer and chisel.
In May 334 BC, when Alexander defeated Memnon of Rhodes in The Battle of the Granicus River, the first blow against the might of Persia, Aristotle recommended a similar monument be made. Alexander was impudent and demanded the tutor just make a sign pointing to the last shrine to save time. A slip of the lip caused that sign to read “Με αυτόν τον τρόπο στην πλάκα του Αριστοτέλη” or “This way to Aristotle’s plaque.”
Some say that this mistake made its way back to the young King who decided to make sure such a mistake could never again occur, founding innumerable cities in his own name from that day forward. Ironically, playing right into Aristotle’s original ploy to get Alexander serious about building a legacy and not just pursuing glory in vanity.
Over decades, the spear was eventually stolen and the shrine looted but the plaque remained stalwart and vivid as the day it was carved, as did the signs directing people to its location.
But “Aristotle’s plaque” became shortened to “Aristotle’s [land]” and eventually was misread as Arretia in a Roman census which stuck around to the present day.
Myth 2 – The Disgraced Commander
323 BC
Even before Alexander’s retreat from India in the final year of his life, the empire he had spent years building was already in danger of crumbling.
Disloyal generals, governors and bureaucrats of the West who once groveled at his feet were no longer cowed upon his departure to lands further and further East. Threats of rebellion simmered and the empire was already being carved up by conspirators in back rooms long before Alexander ever lay upon his deathbed.
Before the Wars of the Diadochi tore this empire asunder a dozen times, one of Alexander’s most loyal allies Antigonus I who had followed him all the way from Greece having served his father Philip II had his son Antigonus II sent in secret back to his holdings in Macedon with a fortune in gold to build support for his claim to the empire once Alexander finally died without an heir.
However his return was slow and exorbitant as the young noble caroused at every city and village on the long journey from Persia and by the time he had finally reached The Hellespont, not only was much of his fortune squandered but his own party betrayed him, throwing him off of the gangway at the last second before boarding ship which sailed towards Crete. Either bad fortune or the very wrath of the gods saw it cast to the bottom of the Aegean where the gold remains undiscovered to this day.
Learning of his son’s incompetent failure, Antigonus I had his name stricken from history and rewrote his family lineage so that Demetrius I was his issue, not Antigonus II. Historians debate how much gold was lost in this event but many agree that had the trip been successful, Antigonus I might have bought-off Ptolemy long enough to keep the empire from falling to civil war.
Yet locals still recall in vivid detail the folly of Antigonus II and took to calling the area where he was betrayed as ανόητος ηλίθιος στη νερό (silly idiot in the water) which was shortened over time to ατοςιος σερό and eventually αρτηρία or Arretia today.
Myth 3 – The First Flight
440 BC
In 1989, a small excavation at the Mount of Cages began as a joint effort by the Committee of Arretian Historical Preservation (CAHP) and the Fine Arts College of Arretia (FACA) to find relics of the city’s past succeeded and may have changed history with its discovery of a plaque far more ancient than any others before it.
On this plaque in worn Copper and Jade was the following: 𒀀𒆷𒀸𒊭𒄠𒈪𒅖𒉺𒋫𒀀𒀸𒉿𒈾𒀜𒋾𒅖 (Wanattis patas Alasammis) along the faint impression of a human foot.
Tests determined the plaque to be authentic, tracing back to the middle of the 5th Century B.C.
The human foot was determined to be that of a young woman.
One enterprising youth working on a PHD in Comparative Linguistic Studies suggested that the engraving might be Luwian Swadesh, a form of ancient Cuneiform thought to be used by the Trojans.
Translated the plaque reads: “[where from] the sea [a] woman’s foot.”
Although the subject on intense debate between Arretian, Turkish and Greek scholars, it is believed by some that this spot was where Helen of Troy first stepped on land after being abducted by Prince Paris in the time immediately before the Trojan War. This theory is buoyed due to Arretia’s proximity to the ruins of Troy and soil erosion patterns suggest that the Mount of Cages was at one time a natural jetty sticking out into the sea.
Now a Professor Emeritus of the Linguistics Department of the FACA, Dr. Merlin Bruce Codlack’s book “Beneath the Mount” maintains that the old form of Trojan gave rise to the common use of the name Arretia for the area over centuries as the spoken language was invaded by Greek cognates which turned “Alsammis” and “patas” to “Arretpatas” by the time of Alexander who adopted the name simplifying it to Arretia in the process.
PART II
ANCIENT HISTORY
The meteoric ascendancy of Greece during the time of Alexander brought prosperity to Asia Minor along with immigration at rates unheard of. Due to its strategic position in a natural harbor, a small trading community sprang up in the region which grew at an accelerated pace due the influx of trade between itself, Byzantium and Rhodes.
Ancient merchants who spoke of the glory of the Colossus as it was being built in the 3rd Century BC made mention of the cheap provisions that could be had a few days sail further along the coast at Arretia which now boasted a considerable farming community lured to the area by cheap land and fertile soil.
Migrating herds of black cattle moving along transits laid by the Hittites 1,000s of years earlier became an increasingly common site in the town. Before long, the citizens had erected crude palisades and a considerable watchtower upon what would later be known as the Mount of Cages where a band of far-sighted archer mercenaries from across the Greek world stood ever vigilant, paid in turn with generous land grants and even more gracious payment than could be found anywhere else in the Mediterranean.
PART III
PRE-ROMAN OCCUPATION
Centuries of good fortune, prosperity and mild weather turned the small town into a bustling city by the time of Rome. Generations of increasingly confident watchmen and prudent city defense planning had turned the once wooden tower into a stone monolith which through the clever use of mirrors and a coal fire was able to light the sea for miles around at night while lenses developed by Archimedes himself at Syracuse were re-engineered to make Arretian scouts unrivaled marksmen capable of sighting fleets days before they would normally be spotted – in no small part egged on by a merchant class of considerable power which gambled heavily and recklessly with commodity speculation. A common phrase at the time was “no grain ship can leave Alexandria for Rome without some Arretian knowing about it, selling and trading its cargo before the sails are even unfurled.”
All of these marvels paled in comparison to Rhodes to the South and Arretians prided themselves on being the underdog rival, resulting in a hundred fortunes lost beneath the soaring arm of the Colossus won back under Arretia’s stone monolith.
Despite most mapmakers placing Arretia firmly within the bounds of the territories of the Seleucid Empire, the only tax ever paid to that crumbling backwater was a single pure silver slug approximately 10 grams in weight paid annually by one of the many merchant families via courier addressed directly to the King of the Seleucids. When this tradition first started with the founding of the city during the days of Alexander, such a payment was a king’s ransom but over time became so much of a pittance that the families boasted decades of “taxes” were pre-paid in their basement next to the cheap wine and how droll it all seemed that some distant king truly needed the money.
In 217 BC, the Selucid King Antiochus III the Great in an attempt to revive the dying empire made war on Egypt and lost at the Battle of Raphia. Though bloodied, the king engaged in a restructuring of his lands which was mostly focused on quelling rebellions and consolidating power in the East while giving up on retaking Syria for the time being. In service to these efforts, he raised taxes and Arretia found itself the subject of an event that has been colloquially known as The Shaming of The King.
The story goes that the Seleucid King’s tax collector arrived in Arretia to find its walls (once wooden now solid stone) manned with troops in full battle regalia and the gate locked. However the side gate (known as the Eye of the Sling) was opened just enough that he might crawl through it and a small banner made of finest silk confirmed that was expected of him saying “για τους φτωχούς (for the poor)” with an arrow pointing down at it. The tax collector humbly crawled down into the gate finding it covered in animal muck and mud along the bottom. When he crossed the threshold the patriarchs of the merchant families stood proud and tall alongside strongboxes arrayed before him. When the tax collector stood up, covered in filth, the men tipped the boxes over, showering his feet in silver coins a hundred deep which sank quickly into the mud before walking silently back to their estates without a word. Tradition states that the tax collector spent days sifting through the muck as it hardened, collecting a small fortune before realizing he had no possible way to carry it back to his King in the East. Legend states that he stole a muck-rakers cart and escaped through the gate which had been left open in the meantime with a pile of silver and dung half a man high. He was eventually able to find passage back in less humiliating fashion but the message was clear: Arretia thought King Antiochus III to be a common beggar, no more.
PART IV
ROMAN INVOLVEMENT
The Vote
By the 1st Century BC Rome’s ascendancy was all but assured. While Carthage remained a valuable trade partner, its destruction in the Third Punic War half a century earlier made even the richest houses of Arretia quake with fear. In 145 BC, exactly one year after her strongest ally was burnt to the ground and her fields salted the great houses organized a plebiscite.
All adult male citizens and freemen or women who owned property were allowed to vote. Voting occurred over a three week period allowing even the most disparate of farmers or merchants out at sea an opportunity to vote.
The vote was simple: shall Arretia resist Rome, yay or nay? Nay votes were symbolized by a feather from a rooster, chosen at random in the market stalls from vendors as part of a lot system while the yay votes came from hens along similar lines. Over three weeks it is said there was not a single unplucked chicken in Anatolia. On the final day it was found that the ‘nays’ had won by a landslide and the great houses debated how best to interpret this matter.
The three richest houses proclaimed they would sign a treaty of friendship with Rome, offering them a similar deal to that offered to the now defunct Seleucid Empire.
Over the Winter a grand ceremony was planned and preparations made for the envoy.
The Landing
Two great ships were built, The Romulus of Apollo and The Remus of Februus, adorned in gold and silver respectively. Carried by sails of silk, rowed by the tallest slaves of Parthia, full of exotic spices from the Far East, captained by men who claimed to have reached the Southern-most Tip of Africa and full of a ransom fit for any three emperors combined, along with a single daughter of each great home trained in Latin, the fleet anchored off Rome’s Portus artificial harbor off the north bank of the Tiber on April 5th, 144 BC on the dawn of the Festival of Fortuna Publica, or the "luck of the people."
The young women approached the senate and handed forth reams of purple vellum explaining the offer of Arretia to the upstart hegemon. Lucius Aurelius Cotta, Counsul a the time and elected during the Fortuna Publica festival in 154 BC coincidentally, accepted the terms:
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Arretia would provide logistical support, technical expertise and ships to the Roman Navy
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10 talents of silver annually paid to the Roman Senate
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Build a new Pantheon in Arretia for the Roman Gods
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Rome would exempt her citizens of any taxes or drafts
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Rome would become her protectorate should any enemies declare war on the merchant republic
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The Byzantine Period
While Rome seemed unstoppable, Arretia was a haven of intellectual involvement and oligarchy as the richest men and women of the known world demanded citizenship, if only to avoid the harsh taxation of Rome at home. Soon there was a row of homes, all empty, where dozens of Arretian “citizens” “lived” but even the most fastidious bureaucrat in Italy was hopelessly lost in the ocean of paperwork Arretian civil servants produced daily.
So it was that when Constantine the Great decreed that Constantinople would be the new Capitol of the Roman Empire, the whole of Arretia held its breath. Along with his tax reform and re-issuance of the currency (debasing it with cheaper metals and forcing all Roman citizens to pay in coin for government fees and taxes), Constantine demanded Arretia triple their existing tribute until Constantinople was finished with construction of the Hagia Sophia (Megale Ekklesia or Big Church) Arretian merchants, craftsmen, builders, surveyors and brick layers descended upon the new city like a flock seagulls upon an uncovered market stall, determined to have it finished in record time.
Legend has it that for every brick laid in Constantinople, another was laid in Arretia. The old Pantheon was retrofitted behind closed gates and under grand tents. On February 15th, 360 AD during the reign of the emperor Constantius II when The Hagia Sophia was concentrated and opened to the public. While The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem had more artifacts on display, The Hagia Sophia held the seat of the Ecumenical Patriarch and The Pantheon still had the largest dome in the world, The Ecclesiae Baptismate (Church of the Baptism) contained by some estimates nearly 40% of all pieces of the True Cross to exist in the world at the time, ironically making the Cross replica itself nearly 74 feet tall.
The Plague
The Plague of Justinian 541 AD killed untold millions throughout the world, originating in either Asia or Africa, the first documented reports of its involvement according to Byzantine source Procopius was in Egypt’s port of Pelusium.
The Arretians tell a different story.
In 540 AD a sailor from the Far East was found floating in the Indian Ocean 100 miles off the coast of Axum by an unknown Arretian vessel. Its captain recorded in stone tablet (as all wood and papers had dissolved in the salt water) this message. He then scuttled the vessel to the bottom of the sea to protect the world as best he could and forestall the inevitable coming devastation:

The [man] is turning black before our eyes as though some fire burns from within his groin and [armpits]. The spits the most vile [substances] and convulses in the night. I notice [on myself] the same growing painful lumps and it is my duty to stop this [plague] before my crew are infected. May God have mercy on [us]. 

Spies and merchants (if there ever was truly a distinction to the Arretians) reported on rumors in Pelusium of a sickness that spread like locusts.
The 15 Great Houses of Arretia held an emergency meeting that very night, un-customarially sharing all possible information on the sickness and concluded in a matter of hours that the city must survive, no matter the costs.
In the most Arretian way possible a 2 day state of emergency was declared. Any and all food stores were seized, any and all ship traffic in the harbor was seized, the bowels of all ships emptied while furious captains were silenced with bags of silver too large to carry by any one pack animal, and sent back to their port of call without explanation.
The countryside was picked clean and all foreign citizens warned to not return to the city upon pain of death. The walls were redoubled with temporary wooden facades, the gates sealed shut with leaded locks for which no key was made. From the highest aviaries to the lowest jetties, not an inch of the city went upturned. Every fishing boat was impressed and triple staffed for back-to-back shifts until the sea around Arretia was scraped clean of all marine life.
On the last night, all boats were returned to the harbor where they were dismantled, along with the harbor itself while the stone edifices of the great houses and mansions of the typically unoccupied but ostentatious ‘Roman Quarter’ were thrown into the harbor creating a temporary breakwater which was reinforced with pitch and tar until water sealed and a great fire set ablaze on the shore. Boiling water in so great a quantity bathed the city in salt, collected from windows, walls and the ground itself to preserve every scrap of meat and fish possible.
An especially hardy species of mushroom from far off Gaul of the Grooty Strain (brought over by some trader years earlier) was discovered growing underneath a porch and at once a massive team of laborers set to work retrofitting every basement, vault and catacomb into nurseries for the tiny gray intrusive species.
On the dawn of the third day Arretia had gone from a glittering example of the height of civility into a militarized, insular micro-nation where the rich and poor alike bore the filth of manual labor and the treasures of a dozen generations lay in the hands of foreign nations that had no idea why they had reversed centuries of trade policy on a whim.
Only Justinian’s spies had even a clue and they warned him that the Empire of Rome itself might do the same, a premise shouted down in the Senate a handful of times until bodies started piling up in the street, far too late to matter.
Accurate records are not possible but it is said Arretia lost a tenth of her population to starvation, rioting and disease. But not one single death from plague was ever noted.
By the time the Black Plague entered the world, Arretia had learned from the mistakes of the past and had years worth of imperishable stocked away in hidden caves with secondary and even third basements covered in edible plants that thrived in the dank, lightless environment supplying a grateful populous who still shared stories of the darkest time in her history. The Venetians claim to have invented the Quarantine but in fact, Arretia had perfected the practice while Venice was still flotsam floating in the Adriatic Sea.
PART V – THE OTTOMANS
Almost 500 years of constant war, against the Huns, Cumans, Samaritans, Sassanids, Seljuks and others on just her Eastern borders, the Byzantine Empire strained at the edges and much of Asia Minor was lost to the Turks. In 1071AD a number of very forward-thinking members of the Great Houses of Arretia sent spies along with the Roman Emperor Romanos IV Diogenes in his campaign to once again bring all of Anatolia under Roman rule. At the Battle of Manzikert on August 26, 1071AD two very important events took place:

1. The Emperor himself was captured and would be paraded throughout the Seljuk Empire in chains before ransomed at a price even the Arretians found exorbitant 2. The Arretians returned upon the fastest horses money could buy from dubious mercenary Pechenegs in the middle of the night still drunk on the glory of victory 

The Great Houses were divided on whether or not to prop up an Empire that seemed on the brink of collapse who they had sunk mountains of gold and silver into in the hope that they could once again establish themselves in the hinterlands, whether they should take advantage of the weakness of Rome to declare independence and even take Constantinople while it remained unguarded by her legions or bend knee to the Turks. The matter was put to vote, however in order to maintain perfect secrecy only members of the ruling families were able to participate, those that were in the city at the time that is. By a margin of exactly 1 vote which came from what would later be described as “the desiccated corpse of a Pater familias dug up from a catacomb, adorned in sweet perfumes and operated by a series of pulleys and bellows,” Arretia switched sides.
Some say The Cross in The Ecclesiae Baptismate which had towered over pilgrims for hundreds of years was torn down that morning while other historians maintain it was buried under a nearby hill until such time as the city could be returned to its old faith safely. Whatever the case, the building was converted to a Grand Mosque and a procession left a few days later to pay homage to their new suzerain in Isfahan.
A cohort of 400 of the strongest boys Arretia had to offer arrived at the head of the caravan, to comprise the a contingent of troops that over time would come to be the Elite Janissary of the Ottoman Empire. With them came oxen laden with ten years worth of tribute in gold, and the plans for a massive highway to be built along the route to facilitate trade between the new allies.
Sultan Alp Arslan’s Grand Viser accepted the terms as dictated by the Arretians after hardly a glance at the treaty, so great was his desire to impress such a fabulously wealthy nation that came crawling on its knees without the rattle of a saber, they were essentially the same as offered the Romans before him and the Ottoman Fleet quadrupled in size with the flourish of a quill upon purple parchment.
The Arrentians, with the exception of those cohorts they sent every year and what few sailors they could not procure from elsewhere, remained circumspect of their new Ottoman masters and it is often said that even the Imam in the Grand Mosque still wore a cross under his robes. Though coffeehouses, hookah dens and other Near Eastern proprietors were already common in the city, a new flood of Turkish shops came and went as they realized that the Arretians were terribly nepotistic in their shopping patterns and the Great Houses were willing to sell storefronts with one hand while making sure no suppliers or contracts would ever make it through customs with the other. While the flag above the city changed shape and color, its people still walked through Roman style bathhouses and drank wine freely in the plazas and museums.
Over the centuries during the Siege of Malta in 1429 AD, Siege of Rhodes 1522 AD, the Second Siege of Malta in 1565 AD, and Constantinople itself in 1203 AD, 1204 AD, 1235 AD, 1236 AD, 1376 AD , 1391AD, 1394-1402AD, 1411AD, 1422 AD and finally 1453 AD, it is said the families of Arretia wept as openly as their once-bretherin Romans. There stands a plaque in the central plaza listing the name of every Arretian who died in those sieges, to the puzzlement of modern historians it seems that either those commissioning the plaque were unconcerned with accuracy or almost 10% of those three cities were comprised of Arretians. DNA testing of survivors is inconclusive but ongoing.
PART VI – MODERN HISTORY
The Ottoman Empire waned with time, eventually becoming the “Sick Man of Europe” and the West conspired for decades over who would get Arretia for their own like squabbling children looking at the will of a man on life support.
Following the conclusion of WW1 and the imposition of the Treaty of Sèvres on August 10th, 1920 Arretia was nominally under Italian rule for the first time in 100s of years.
In a drunken, semi-coherent speech in April 1923, ‘Il Duce’ Benito Mussolini (having recently succeeded in a coup the year previous and setting about dissolving any political opposition) proclaimed to an audience of fellow blackshirts that “Direct rule from Rome would begin again in Arretia by morning!”
The following morning Moussolini awoke with a hangover and a single feather on his pillow beside him. Thinking nothing of it, as he was used to errant feathers poking out of his pillow from time to time, he simply re-fluffed his own pillow to find it strangely heavy and lumpy.
Opening the case, he found it stuffed full of Italian Lire, exactly ₤ 2,250. The same amount he had mailed to his Mistress for rent that month. In a rush he grabbed a phone and had the operator connect him with her, who answered very surprised as she pointed out he himself had paid her rent via check and spent the night with her before leaving in the very early morning.
It took hours for his bank to confirm the check was genuine and his signature authentic. Moussolini called for Achille Starace, the Press Secretary of the Office of the Presidency of the Council and his brother Arnaldo Mussolini, the editor of the state-occupied Fascist newspaper Il Popolo, to shred any and all documentation of his speech the night before.
In a single night, Italian dreams of returning Arretia to its dominion vanished.
Rumor has it that Carmine Coppola heard the story from a relative who was there that night for the speech and told an impressionable Francis Ford Coppola about it in his childhood, sparking the famous horse’s head scene in 1972’s The Godfather. The Italian government has neither confirmed nor denied the connection.
Arretian pseudo-independence was celebrated by thousands of sailors between 1940 and 1943 who’s lives were protected by their ‘Eagle-eyed guides’ spotting submarines at the last second, steering unarmed convoys away from sea mines or even bad weather long range radar couldn’t pick up. During the Battle of Britain, those same guides filled in gaps left by long-range spotter balloons and rode along RAF Spitfires and P-51s when their own spotters, gunners and even pilots were too tired, wounded or shaken to keep the skies friendly.
Though not formally invited to the Yalta Conference in February, 1945, Arretian diplomats helped steer Marshall Plan funding for years, were instrumental in negotiations for the Treaty of Paris in 1951, creating the European Coal and Steel Community, were the first non-continental member of the EU in 1973, wrote almost half of the Maastricht Treaty in 1993, kept the Common Currency negotiations from falling apart in 1999, bought half of all Greek Debt during the European Financial Crisis of 2008 and ironically now own half of all proven European Oil Reserves due to meddling in Brexit Negotiations just two years ago, buying North Sea drilling rights for pence on the Euro. While the EU is ruled from Brussels, most politicians would concede that most legislation is written in Arretia using Arretian ink by Arretian claws and hands alike.