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Revolutionary Gathering of Friends

**Title:** **The Revolt of the Fates** **Attractive Description:** In the tumultuous world of Weckoplay, two revolutionaries emerge from the shadows to challenge elite oppression. Frothy, an 18-year-old with a murderous look and a katana in hand, fights tirelessly to overturn the educational system that marginalizes failures and loners. Dressed in his iconic black and red hoodie, he is a symbol of resistance, determined to bring justice to those who have been forgotten. At the same time, Rumar, an heir to the powerful Heavenly Beast clan of Hell, emerges with his own vision of revolution. With the power to trap bullies in the hell of his heavenly beast, he quickly becomes a feared and respected figure. When the territories' leaders attempt to co-opt him for their own ends, Rumar demonstrates his unmatched strength, subduing them and consolidating his rule. Their fates become intertwined in an explosive confrontation.

Cineware · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
423 Chs

19

"So, I can't—" you start to say.

"Also, I build things like this!" the ahroun says.

He triumphantly holds up the mystery device.

"What is it?" you ask.

"A portable helical wind turbine," Podge says. "We're surrounded by scrub, but past that it's open country because of the airfield, and we get a lot of wind." He pops open a trap door in the gambrel roof that he obviously just added and you follow him out onto the roof. You hadn't noticed all the solar panels from below. But it doesn't look like Podge is installing the turbine on the roof: there's a new pole down below, and he's up here to take measurements and run tests.

"You're not stealing these, are you? I don't want someone tracking us down."

I give him my spare shirt, because it's cool and windy. He's cute but obviously chilly.

"Why aren't you installing the turbine on the roof?"

"You're more ambitious than other Bone Gnawers I've known." I want to know more about Podge's tribe.

"This is great! I know it's not much, but getting away from fossil fuels makes me happy."

Next

"Well, we're the largest tribe," Podge says. "Melodie says there are, like, millions of Black Spiral Dancers swarming under the earth like Tolkien orcs but I think that's bullshit. The biggest chunk of Garou are just people trying to survive on humanity's cast-offs. But the thing about humanity is that their castoffs are—look at these jeans, they're authentic 501's!" He wiggles his cutoffs at you while digging around in the turbine and plugging in wires. "Humans waste so much. I wonder what'll happen to us if we ever teach them to control their appetites." He plugs in the turbine and starts running electrical tests. "If they're not throwing away solar panels and clothes and whole trucks, how am I gonna live, right? But I'm not a monk, I don't believe in enforced poverty—I'm like one of those fruitarians who only eat nuts and berries, except I have more nuts than I could ever eat."

"You're not stealing these, are you? I don't want someone tracking us down."

I give him my spare shirt, because it's cool and windy. He's cute but obviously chilly.

"Why aren't you installing the turbine on the roof?"

"This is great! I know it's not much, but getting away from fossil fuels makes me happy."

Next

.It's a shame to cover up all those whipcord muscles and slowly-shifting tattoos, but you enjoy settling your hands over Podge's shoulders as you get him into an old button-down shirt. He accepts the shirt without a word of thanks. You suppose you can't expect too much gratitude from Bone Gnawers—then scrambles around on the roof with the careless haste of someone who can regenerate if he falls, shirt-tails flapping in the unpredictable breeze.

Podge's antique portable voltmeter beeps. He nods.

"We're up and running," Podge says. "Now what I'm going to do next is I'm going to stick you up on the top of that pole I installed this morning, because I don't want to fall."

Next

And that's where you spend the next hour. It's fun to watch Podge scramble around like an exceptionally well-proportioned squirrel, occasionally stopping to wipe sweat from his oil-streaked face, but it's also work. Still, when it's done, the white plastic helix is spinning in the wind, generating power for Podge's computer room. He shows you the power readings, and (mostly thanks to all those jury-rigged solar panels on the roof) the cabin is now generating more power than it uses, even while running all those laptops. You spend the rest of the morning driving around in his beat-up truck, collecting abandoned plants to fill up the house. Podge grabs everything from tomatoes and green beans to flowers and ferns, as well as two plastic water barrels, some self-watering containers, and lots of tubing and hoses. Everything is abandoned, ignored: it's like the ahroun has some Gift that lets him slip into the forgotten corners of the urban borderlands, even in a pickup truck, to find treasures forgotten by the People of the Map. He chats while he drives; you can't tell if this is his way of flirting with you or if he's just glad someone is willing to listen.

You spend another hour getting everything out of the truck; Podge explains what everything does as he drives you to Epicycle so you can spend the afternoon managing inventory.

Where can I find Melodie Palys? I ask Podge and Elton.

I investigate that Umbral pipeline we first noticed in Holyoke.

I pay $100 to keep the cops off my trail.

I need to buy more clothes. I go shopping.

What else can I learn about the "Neo-Albion" group that guarded Everlite?

I see if I can track down Nin.

I find Roscoe's van.

I visit Hobland at his compound.

I visit Lucinda at her studio.

I head into the deep woods.

I head to the urban blight.

I check my phone.

Next

Not a damn thing. Granted, you're not a computer person, but Podge absolutely is, and after several days of work, he returns two publicity photographs (neither in New England), a dozen mentions of their existence (not their activities) on private military contractor forums, and a single mention on a blog insisting that they're a hoax.

"That journalist knows something though," Podge says as you sit on the steps of your cabin, searching away. "I'm contacting Nomi."

An email arrives less than ten minutes later.

They're ghost wizard assassins or something. I managed to dig up a "team roster" from a right-wing occult site who got their domain seized so I can't vouch for it but

E. Troy, Head of Operations

L. Barry

T. Eggars

A. Hone-Parez

C. Merrit

V. Beschloss

A. Thiberault

"Wait, I've seen some of these names before," Podge says.

"That log book," you say. You can't remember the details, but Podge runs up stairs, then back down with the little leather-bound book.

"Merrit 0930. I think he was at Everlite."

"Did we kill him?" you ask.

"Not unless he pulled a triple shift," Podge says. "And that assumes this is the same Merrit. It's possible, right?"

"It's possible," you admit.

That's some thin gruel, though. You're searching other names even as you talk with Podge. Nothing and everything—hundreds of "E. Troys," thousands of "A. Thiberaults." Nothing to get a grip on.

Podge thanks Nomi and asks them to contact him if anything about Neo Albion ever comes up.

"Maybe our curiosity is gonna expose us, I dunno," Podge says. "But this is driving me crazy. We need to learn more."

Where can I find Melodie Palys? I ask Podge and Elton.

I investigate that Umbral pipeline we first noticed in Holyoke.

I pay $100 to keep the cops off my trail.

I need to buy more clothes. I go shopping.

I see if I can track down Nin.

I find Roscoe's van.

I visit Hobland at his compound.

I visit Lucinda at her studio.

I head into the deep woods.

I head to the urban blight.

I check my phone.

Next