u/TheDoctorCat03

Recently, I was doing my patrol (a task I have taken upon myself as opposed to being told to do so), when I witnessed a Sister (of unknown rank at the time) fighting against a group of fixers. Naturally, I jumped into the fray, taking one by surprise and crushing their skull on the spot. This, apparently, was the wrong thing to do as the Sister then began berating me for interrupting her Vengeance Hunt and taking away "her right to vengeance". As far as I'm aware, all Vengeances are held by all members of the Middle, with rare exceptions.

Am I mistaken? Was my interference the right thing to do, or should I have left her to deal with it herself? I know now that she was a Little Sister, of equal rank to myself, so I'm unsure which of us is misunderstanding the Book.

Follow up question, is it Moral to take out vengeances that other siblings have written? Or is it better to only assist others if asked?

I'm playing on the demo version of Shadow of War, right, and one of the orcs the Nemesis system put up for me killed me, his name was Koth Flame of War. He's been a pain in my side for a bit now, and at this point he's about level 30.

So he kills me, and on the army screen he goes to fight the Keepmaster or whatever they're called, but partway through the animation he just dies for no reason? Despite being dead, he wins the fight and becomes the new Overlord.

This is a problem, because now the mission to take the fort is confused about what's going on and is telling me to get more followers (I have most of the region's captains) and won't let me take the fort. I have prompted two different orcs into being Warchiefs and died to them both again to try and spur them on to take over as Overlord, but neither of them want to do it. Seems they're fine "Weekend at Bernie's"-ing the fort.

Very funny Nemesis system, never change. When I get the funds, I'll be getting the full game.

I'm an associate so I don't know for certain, but we seem constantly swamped for the amount of work we're expected to do. Like, no wonder Dollar Tree has a reputation of being a crappy store that looks like shit, smells like shit, and has poor stocking, we don't get enough hours to do all that work in. Six U-Boats in four hours doesn't seem reasonable to me (admittedly, I'm slow in general so that might just be me).

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My till makes $2000 dollars in a 4 hour shift and that's with me calling up managers to help out with the line (which they get mad about because they have stuff to do too).

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My only proof for getting too few hours amongst the entire store is that we recently had to tighten down on any extra minutes after a shift is supposed to end and a general feeling of "this line is only getting longer and there's two people checking customers out".

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Some caveats, I am admittedly slow when it comes to checking people out (or at least I'm told I'm slow, even when working as fast as I can), so it's possible that I'm just wrong and it's just my fault. Other associates don't seem to have that problem with the lines, but I don't talk to them about it and rarely see them anyway, so I don't know.

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I guess what I'm trying to say is that corporate might not be giving us enough hours to get done what they want done.

So I happened to be at the recent auction for the stuff from the abandoned Pizzaplex and, while I couldn't manage to get anything cool (I really wanted one of those staff bots, even if it was broken), I did get a notebook in a "trash lot". A lot of the pages were torn out and what was there wasn't very interesting, but I did find a bit of prose I thought I'd share. Might not be very interesting, but it's something.

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*My friend, I'm afraid to say you've come to a terrible end. I don't really feel that bad about it, though. If it wasn't me, then it would have been someone else eventually. What I'm trying to say is that life, life goes on. Well, not for you, because you're dead, but that's besides the point.

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It reminds me of a time I was at the park with my good friend Orville. We were out by the lake in the middle of the spring and I turned to Orville and I said to him, "Orville, I've got a story to tell you."

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Orville looked back at me and, well, he was kind of mad, and he said, "Is it a story or is it just some nonsense like last time?" To his credit I do tend to ramble, but at the time I was, well, simply shocked.

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I said to him, "I guess what I meant to say is that I, I just want to talk, is all, without any real meaning behind it."

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He looked at me like I had said something absolutely insane, and he said to me, "If it doesn't have some sort of meaning, why should I listen?" And I just sat there, stumped. I supposed at the time that there's no reason to listen if there's no reason the story is being told. But then I remembered when we were kids, back at Sunday School, when I was trying my hardest to make Orville my friend and I just had to bring it up.

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"Orville, do you remember back at Sunday School? I would tell stories all day, but you never listened even once. But then, when I gave up and just started doing some nonsense, that's when you came over and started listening. You thought I was telling the most amazing story, so I just went along with it. Nothing's changed between then and now, I suppose we've both just gotten older." We sat in silence for a moment, and then I asked him, "So what is it that you really want? A story, or just some nonsense? Because I really can do either, I just want to talk."

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You know what he said to me? He said, "Honestly, I just want some peace and quiet." And so we sat next to the lake, listening to the birds and the cicadas. It was a lovely day.*

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(OOC: My take on a Mr. Hippo monologue with even more Scott Cawthon subtext)

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Not to disparage him, but he does odd things with his book of Vengeance.

First of all, he uses it like a mace due to how massive it is. He has made so many grudges and not executed on so many of them that his Book is almost as big as he is. Perhaps I'm missing something.

Secondly, he hands out stickers. This is normal, but the stickers he uses are strange. They're... pinups. That's all I'll say about it.

Finally, he has gold teeth. Not strange on its own, but when they're also embossed with his name it's a bit odd, especially since he's only a Big Brother, not a Great Brother.

I don't know, I may be missing something. How he chooses to express his loyalty to the Family is up to him, but I find it odd.

If he ends up finding this post... we'll see.

I am normally of the opinion that Dante's identity before the events of Limbus Company isn't important, however I do have a theory that could potentially work.

In short, Dante is Ayin, but not in the way that sounds. Instead of being Ayin straight up, instead Dante is one of the aspects of Ayin's character, like Abel, Abram, etc. It doesn't match the naming scheme, but it might be something.

Part of this theory is that Dante's head was completely replaced, seemingly without a brain leftover. Where would this consciousness come from, then? The golden bough in their head. The golden boughs have a connection to the Light, and could allow a part of those within it, Ayin and Carmen, out.

Dante is capable of using powers associated with the Kabbalic tree of life, which is heavily associated with Ayin and Lobotomy Corporation. They also are marked as having the Kether ability before awakening to Superbia, Kether being associated directly with Ayin through the last 5 days of Lobotomy Corporation.

The only other clue we have is that they were a bigwig before the transplant, which could mean that the body was donated by a bigwig, or that the consciousness is from a bigwig. If it's the latter, it makes sense that Dante would be an aspect of Ayin.

Now, there's some flaws with this. Dante has amnesia, which makes any claim to their past identity dubious. Additionally, there's evidence that people are still manifesting EGO, something that Ayin (might) do.

Is it plausible? Maybe. Is it likely? Hell no.

Tl;dr: Dante might be an aspect of Ayin, but I doubt it.

It's the worst anti-tobacco ad I've seen. I mean, it works, it makes nicotine pouches seem disgusting, but I don't need to see it in front of EVERY YouTube video, especially when I'm sitting down to EAT. The noises are gross, the visuals are gross, it's all gross. Effective, sure, but I hate this.

I DON'T EVEN SMOKE! OR USE ANY TOBACCO! I AM NOT THE PERSON THIS AD SHOULD BE GOING TO!

The ground shakes with the force of battle. Marco nods his head, certain that a Big Brother had just landed a huge blow.

"Tch, ya think that was Big Bro Gordon?" A Little Brother asked to one of his siblings, arms crossed.

"Dunno, it's too far to tell." One of the Soldatos spoke up, drawing a sneer from the Brother.

The six members of the squad, four Middle and two Thumb, patrol through the flank of the battle in the park nearby. Gunfire signaled another fusillade from the Thumb, though it was unclear if it was actually effective.

'Any stealth attack from the squad was never going to be successful,' Marco thought, 'There was no way the City would allow the Index to be snuck up on. Then again, it's all nonsense anyway.' He kept those thoughts to himself. Underestimating their opponents would only lead to-

Speak of the devil.

Five Proselytes stand already on guard at the end of an alley. A Little Brother steps up. "Hey! Don't you know the battle's over there?"

"The prescript demanded we head here. I'm unsurprised to find an enemy. It is the Will of the-"

"Shut it! Heard enough of this crap already, ain't gotta hear it from you too."

Marco steps forward, levelheaded but on edge. "If you're only here because of the prescript, did it say that you had to fight us? We could all leave and pretend we never saw each other." The other Little Brother pushes Marco aside.

"Forget that! These guys are on our turf, and you know what that means." The muscle bound man raises his Book of Vengeance and grins wickedly. "We gotta punish them proper!"

Marco sighs. There wasn't actually anything in the Book saying that just stepping on Middle Turf was grounds for punishment, and besides, this was in the Thumb's turf, not the Middle's. It seems a battle is inevitable.

The four Siblings step forward, drawing a line from which the Soldatos can fire without worry of reprise. They were slightly outnumbered, at least in terms of melee combatants, but the fire support should even the odds.

The Proselytes angle their weapons, on guard, until a subtle beeping draws their focus. Each of them nods and, in unison, advances upon the alliance formation. With practiced ease and coordination, they fall upon the Siblings. Each side clashes one on one, but the problem of numbers rears its head. A Little Brother is impaled upon an Index longsword. Morale shifts until two shots ring out from behind Marco. A bullet flies over his shoulder, nailing the Proselyte he was fighting in the head. Ther other flies toward another Proselyte, but is deflected by their blade.

The Middle rallies, vengeance fueling their strikes. The Proselytes are forced to withdraw slightly under a rain of blows. Marco kicks one down, about to finish them off, when another shot rings out. The Proselyte before him slumps over, dead. Marco looks back and gives a nod to the Soldato that had fired. A kill is a kill, fair is fair.

The skirmish was quickly decided, with the Alliance forcing an Index retreat. Despite this, it wasn't easy. Wounds covered the Siblings that still lived, Marco included. Another Sibling had perished, leaving only two left.

"Yeah! But you better watch your back, you're going in the book!" The grandstanding of the Little Sister was annoying, but still welcome. A skirmish though this was, there were still losses. "Alright, let's get our Brothers back, eh Mar-"

Her head splattered across the wall like a volcano. Marco turned to face the two Soldatos. One of their rifles smoked, the other stared right at his face.

"Better to get rid of you now than have to fight you later. Just business, understand?" A smirk crosses the Soldato's face. "And by the way... Miss Renata sends her regards." Click.

Click, click.

The thing about those rifles, they're really strong... when you have ammo.

Marco wastes no time, rushing towards the pair. He grabs one, slamming him into the ground before wheeling and cracking the other across the face with a solid strike. His tattoos glow fiercely, fueled by a grudge undeserved. The grounded one scrambles to his feet, but Marco grabs his gun and strikes it against the Soldato's temple. He slumps to the ground once again, this time dazed.

A sharp pain burns into Marco's right shoulder. Blood begins to seep into his white collared shirt as he turns to face his attacker. It's quick, before the Soldato can reload his head is turned into pulp, just as the Sister's had been.

Marco looms over the one on the ground before raising his foot and, with gloom in his heart, crushes the skull of the last Soldato.

The alley is a mess, destroyed as much from the war conflict and the one born from a grudge. Marco looks to his siblings, opens his book, writes a single line, and walks back towards where the alliance had set up a bastion.

Renata, Capo of the Thumb, previous sergeant of Marco, once a Soldato. Your name has been put into the Book of Vengeance. A private grudge, one born of betrayal.

(Short story about a skirmish in the War that's going on. Treat it as canon or non-canon as you like, I'm out of the loop. I'm also aware that the battle was short. There's a lot more details that should be in it, but I'm tired and not a fantastic writer yet. I hope you enjoyed anyway.)