Are you having trouble running the Critically Acclaimed MMORPG, Final Fantasy XIV?
Did it run perfectly fine last year and now it doesn't? Have you installed the XIVLauncher and the only thing that changed is now you actually get a Close or Debug window? Did you maybe get the (6d) error? Have you clicked the Debug option, and seen that it leads to DBGHELP.DLL?
Have you reinstalled 4 to 12 times... even to different drives, AND made a backup archive to just save the bandwidth if you have to do it yet AGAIN?
Are you suspecting it is a memory glitch? Graphics Driver Fault? That you're... oh gosh... still running Windows 10 version sprach sprach perry boink? Fear your 1080ti is finally on it's last legs...?
Well, the kind people at XIVLauncher have a little message you AND *I* both didn't see before going down 4575612559673 different Tech Support rabbit holes trying to solve what you -or at least *I*- thought HAD to be one of the above problems.
<pre>
Legacy Nvidia GPU Troubleshooting
Nvidia GTX 800/900/1000-series Cards
As of Nvidia RTX Driver Release 590 (December 2025), Nvidia has marked GTX 800/900/1000 series GPUs as legacy. They will not receive driver updates or support past Nvidia Driver Release 580 versions. GeForce Security Update Drivers 582.28 and 582.53 (and probably later) have known issues that can cause game crashes. It is recommended to roll back to a prior version, such as Game Ready Driver 581.80.
Display Driver Uninstaller (DDU) can be used to remove the current driver if you are having trouble rolling back.
Franzbot version: 2022-May-13
</pre>
Discord is great for playing games and chilling with friends, or even building a worldwide community. Customize your own space to talk, play
Did you read it? Have you re-read it? Do you think it is a bath for porcines?
Well, I probably can't put a dent in your opinion if you're truly determined, however this was EXACTLY what was really wrong in my case.
nVidia did us all dirty with 582.28 and 582.53 (which I thought couldn'tpossiblybetheissuebecauseIjustupdatedfrom *.28 to *.53 soitmustbesomethingelse) and our 'rocket' is trying to 'plot a course to the wrong destination' but in very specific cases.
Like a trip to Arcturus... our analogy for the next little bit.
That mess in dbghelp.dll that some of us saw in debuggers? Bam. It wouldn't be going to Arktaaurus instead of Arcturus without driver hiccup. At least in this case. Mercury? Fine. Procyon? Fine. Arcturus? Drunk.
That (6d) error about no graphics driver, and other shenaniganry? Well if the driver is batshit insane about how you spell Arcturus, but the game and your OS know how it's spelled? Well obviously your driver is looney/hacked/glitchy/ etcaetera and might as well not 'exist'. For the analogy, your pilot thinks they are the co-pilot, when you ask to go to Arcturus. Thus no pilot... no /driver/. [Better without actual italics]
Windows? Oh boy if 10 was actually stone dead there'd be more online about this. Your rocket will get you there. For Now.
Memory? Well something doesn't have to be EXACTLY XIV to screm like a hull breach. SOMETHING ELSE would break.
Musical Chairs with your drive space? While for ME this was a major reason I went Tech Support Hat, I should have kept it off. Granted (6d) and (dbghelp.dll) !@#$%^&*(SHOULD)*&^%$#@! have suggested a rollback. But it might have been after the 647344 other samey messages. My eyes... hell anyone's eyes would be tired after a point.
Give a driver rollback a try. It worked for me, and as I was seeing The Message on their discord, it worked for another user as well.
Unless you don't want to reach Arcturus. That's up to you.
Now to try to convince #GoogleSearch that this is a worth it thing to inform people to try. And Link this to X for a titch more exposure.
That I guess, but more oh it’s been 5 years since I updated the files. It’s ‘tragic’ that the files available to others are out of date, but it’s more the point: if I did wanna see what all I’ve missed... I don’t touch vanilla.
4-5 years of changes. Yikes.
“What about your...”
Fans? Lemme stop you right there. NO ONE HAS CONTACTED ME AND I AM CONTACTABLE. Just lemme feel bad about my children okay? Neglected so...
*scene of a triumphant college team carrying their hero who looks at an empty spot in the onlookers before being carried to the lockerroom*
"Bitterlife(TM)? Not for us champions!" *the team pours the lesser brew into the toilet... knowing the other teams are doing the same, drinking it, or crying into their toilets.*
"Only Goodlife(TM) for winners!"
/Goodlife. The taste of victory!/
'So'
'No your son couldn't muster the right expression so we cut him from filming today. Want another go with him tomorrow?'
'No. One day or one week isn't going to reach him. He's a screw up,' says the man who was just playing victorious champion... a role he'd played for real not 4 weeks prior.
March Madness. So many dragons burnt to ash. Better them than us.
But why shouldn't man turn it into a celebratory spectacle? Hadn't we won the right? Just knowing how to kill the great beasts wasn't enough we still HAD TO DO IT OURSELVES.
Couldn't that boy understand?
And there's no reason he couldn't. There was no pet drake the family kept to keep the boy from feeling the spark without help. Hi mageblade, a symbol of his desire to not be killed ooffhand without a fight was as long and as shiny as his mother or fathers. Infact it sparkled in way their's did not.
He cheered himself hoarse just fine too. And he recounted the whole shebang to his mother with exuberance and precision as she couldn't attend due to guard duty as usual.
Of course as sacred a task as it was, the boy couldn't travel that road either. Your inner fire had to be ready to melt your bones, to do the same in an instant to any who would rob the sacred dragon parts stronghold... for those pieces too tenacious to just die. The spirits of the beasts obviously powering them long after their hearts had stopped beating. Every piece a threat to all human life should they not be ritually scorched daily to keep their sizes manageable.
No one wants to stare eye to eye ... and be little more than a tick on an eyelash... with a full grown continent devastator. A class that should never be met again. ertainly provided the schools kept vigilantly training and the youth gleeful or dutiful enough to lead their campuses towards the madness.
"Something wrong with the shoot?"
The gruff recent victor turned to the voice... then up to the face. Two of the heads regarded him with concern, the third pity. He knew why "Cerebus"'s third head always pitied man... currently himself... but man in general. It was just disconcerting. Pity from a dragon. Even a 'runt drake' as their classification ran. Butstill pity. Pity because man will be tortured for eons should the dragons. the true dragons rise back up. Big C here would just be consumed as a traitor and completely cease to be. Spirit extinguished to never blossom forth ever again.
And yet... pity for man. Or at least him. Maybe pity the boy was still a disappointment?
'Just...'
"Your son then?"
'They said he couldn't do something right again for the shoot. It's done now. Commercial is a go. No more reshoots. HUZZAH!'
"And yet you're not happy."
'Nope. I anted to look at him and see his smiling face. Proud of his dad. Not just that mask of horror that I could have died. And yes. Don't start. I could have. I can incinerate a head with my own spark. not enough to stop the 10 headed monstrosity we were up against...'
"But enough to stop it cold in it's proverbial tracks. Oh I know. I was forced to keep the toes chilly for types like that one."
'Really. All that scaly bulk?'
And the two wandered off talking about Big C's years and years under the harsh dictates of his betters.
Why wouldn't the runts have risen up when mankind asked if they would rather the tables turned. If they would rather be the gods of their kind instead. A dragon -out of body- is tormented by all their faults as are all the greats beasts who haven't a scrap of their flesh moldering in a stronghold.
Summary consumption for a traitor is more than half of the surviving drakes could dream of. That requires their former betters to give half a flap about them. Runts were appliances. Furniture. If there had been cannons at the time... cannon fodder.
Sure they still make some humans cower... they are still dragons. But in a way they are so very proud of what man has done with the time given them by asking the runts for aid.
Cities. Not just round hut villages. Arts. Not just cave paintings. Science... magecraft...
And sports to keep their bodies ready for the next challenges... be they from the sea or an uprising. The runts would not like an another uprising. Advocates and colaborators -and of course traitors- are first on the chopping block. Or chomping rather. The analogy loses something.
NEWS FLASH! A stronghold getting ashed! Guards slain... a visiting son here on a lunch break not even able to summon his knife in the face of such tragic loss... *tv shuts off*
NEWS FLASH! Would be vigilante Afrent Stone killed with the purpetrators of the recent stronghold raid that necessitated... *tv shuts off*
"See this tree?" Big C bites through it in two chomps. "That could be you! One of those heads there," he waves his snout vaguely at his self removed 2 other heads,"could leap for you at a moments flicker even as you think it is dying. It is not. Neither are. They are regenerating. AND soon there will be 2 more three headed dragons on this spot. They might not be as merciful as I am. So incinerate those heads!"
And once again the team summons all the spark it can, the team captain rounding up all the sparks -but one- and trying to kindle a greater fire... and can't.
Big C shakes his head and motions to the fire team nearby. They ash his discarded heads. One a side note Big C kinda like helping this way. So much clarity of thought, and since central is the poet... poetry for days. Until the other heads come back. Then it's sports and... oh.
That one didn't help again.
Cerebus could smell real fear from him and all the other boys and girls of the team. But no relief. Rage... and likely self directed... both parents lost... but then. The boy's tone changes immediately.
She has come. fighting long years of 'high school is for high school, and college is for college' the lad's high school and current girlfriend has come over to see him. Third head likes to stalk and lurk such matters, but central has poetry to right... after the report of fire session 2 of the 130 or so planned before March Madness.
More of course would get tacked on if they were really getting a good roasting in their souls.
The team captain just hollered something about requisitioning wingparts, but Big C is off to his quill and pays no mind to it.
"So. How'd it go? Could you roast marshmellows with Grot leading the charge? Or would you be tasting ash?"
He sullenly smirks,"Well we could still smash them into paste. Grot would like that. But as for flames... No nothing. You'd think we'd have a better showing even with me in there. I man Grot just ashed everything in high school."
"When handed the reigns of an inferno even I could scorch something. Yes even a witch could blaze IF handed a ragin inferno. Otherwise..."
"We bring the thunder!" he said into an imaginary microphone.
She play pushed him then,"It's not a boxing match."
'Do you think humans are getting soft?' he asked kind of out of the blue. Something he worried about all the time. He'd never asked her, but finally it seemed the right time.
"You? Nightmares about tentacles?"
'Not that. Just. In history we covered how boxing came from duels. And how step by step it went from blades to cushioned gloves. Some boxers would get cut to ribbons in a knife fight... that sort of thing.'
"Well we still have March Madness to put the fear into anything out there. And failing FIRE EVERYWHERE, we have witches and warlocks and our lightning. We show krakens what for regularly. And we haven't seen a flying tentacle cloud in years. Might have snuffed them all out."
"Hmm..."
"And so if we're a bit softer," she kissed him,"Maybe we've earned it?"
"I'm just worried about the horizon."
"Fire, humanity," she ticks off with her hands," lighting, and force... also humanity," she grins," Ice, the drakes. Most sea beasts are mindless enough to tear into anything thrown at them... or thrown at... so water. I think we're covered for elements."
"Fire humanity."
"You have no trouble with assistance. Maybe you just need more practice."
"I don't know if my heart can take all that. All the fear... the worry... So many dragons imagined coming for my face."
"To crunch you down,"she paused for emphasis,"to make flames,"she made as if to climb a pulpit -or mountaintop,"to sear the world," she got all spooky hand wavey before bursting out laughing.
"Yeah," he shared the laugh at the old school texts.
On point, but also so over the top melodramatic. After a few of those old texts you had no problem thinking every shadow was after you and poof. Mageblade.
Some classes brought in a witch or warlock to make the shadows 'actually come at you' for the holdouts. But by 5 years old. Poof. Mageblade. Then when you were older,
history told you why they pushed it so young. And combat training told you just how capable a blade manifest from your desire to not die to put up a fight to your last breath can do.
Like pierce and carve dragonscale. SHED dragonscale. For living scales cannot be made art. Shed ones are dead and will not wither further.
/And wear a face mask when carving... and/ his mind was everywhere. But here. With the love of his life.
"So," he started coming out of his reverie about past lessons.
"Oh?" she looked at his face. She noted the determination and faint whiff of fear,"Ah! Practice makes perfect?"
"Yeah. Sorry. But I think I'm in the zone. I felt the spark in others. So maybe."
"No! Go go gogo go I know how dear this is to you. Team sheam. You have to do this for you. I'll catch up with you later." Her smile. It was his world.
And so... on half remembered trumpeting from the captain he went to get a tube of dragonwing. Rolled up it did not do much more than try to grow itself flat, but it didn't have the growth force to burst the fire forged 'volcanic' glass.
In a way it was also... content? That's all he could think. It was warm with the trace embers of the fire magic in the glass walls. When his mother was first out of college and swept up by the Guard Elite she made things like this in her internship. Sometimes she'd wake up, she had said, with tubes and tubes and plates and glasses made all about her from a near all-nighter crafting. Due to her power her internship had been short.
Once again he was on the wrong parts of his history. He needed to concentrate on say... his mother's power. Not that he was himself unfit for the Guard Elite.
Also if he was to think of his father's meteoric sports career -before the tragedy- he needed to focus not on how he was a raging void of disapppointment, but again on his father's power. Howhe could feel -and the whole stadium as well- the fire his father commanded when he took up the captains mantle when the team captain caught a rogue winggust into a plinth and died. First death in a decade.
No fire. Power. Fear and flame.
The wing flexed and pulsed. It could sense him. But then as it was regenerating it was not dead flesh. The dragon's spirit was there. Waiting to pounce and consume. Maybe teach him and the rest of humanity how to live in a little tube as a scrap of flesh. Or dozens of tubes. He had no idea.
You requested, and if all was right with your transcript and your request. Poof. A bit of wing. from wing it would take months for a full dragon to regenerate. In fact it would be a lethal meat brain dumb beast at first. Then it would get its first kill... and in no time at all that stupid brain would grow crafty, capable of speech. Capable of relentless mountains of hate.
In a way hate powered their regeneration. A ice way of keeping the fear and worry right at the tip of your brain.
"This tiny little thing wants me dead," he said in the quiet of the lockerroom. Just as fireproof as a classroom and less likely to set a class back a week if there was an inferno. The showers would be better but no surface to set the wing on but the floor and that's ill advised.
No this place would do. An alarm klaxon was just steps away, and medical care only a minute away from that. He could end up lighting his face on fire after all. Maybe not through the bone or anything... but...
He was stalling. He popped the metal stopper, and slid it out on the bench.
In seconds it unfolded as if waiting for the right moment. Patient as a glacier. It could wait that month out with the patience of winter's chill.
/Melt that chill./ he thought. /Become the inferno./
He reached into himself for the spark that he could slightly feel answering the embers contained in the tube. Those embers wanted to be an inferno, so too did his spark.
and he projected that onto the wingbit when he could hold it no longer...and...
A few damage streaks was all he had garnered. Sears or tears that it regenerated away. Not even enough to stick. He imagined even Grot doing this could slowly char it by himself. Grot could gather and magnify, but he couldn't light a candle.
"I can melt wax what is wrong with me!" the tube went flying. He didn't remember throwing it... but he could feel the warm in his hand. He'd just been holding it in a death grip.
'Typical failure.'
"Who's a failure now?" she had returned. Probably looking for him. He'd been gathering spark for... yikes... a full hour? Another two and the janitors would have some words.
"I lost track of time. I was spark gathering."
"And?" she was so much more excited than he felt.
"And... healed the sears away. More like tears really. Like I was trying to cut it to pieces."
She held her hand up and concentrated,"There is only fire here. No changing major for you."
"Can you sense where the tube went?"
She paused before answering,"Yes. But later. You have a live... specimen there to dispose of. We can triumphantly muddle about in the dark later."
"Even if it is just more of the same?"
"Shred it then," she said smiling.
He concentrated, gathering his own sparks, and poof just more regenerated shredding. She produce a notebook sheet, and they wrapped the wing in it... but now it didn't seem threatening.
It burst its cage. Threat renewed. With a gusto.
He tried again she bid him to wait and hold it... maybe rub them on each other?
"That's electrical. These aren't firesticks or matches," he said while concentrating. He could concentrate all year, and amidst all sorts of distractions. Passed the 'pan trials' with ease.
"Point. But hang onto it anyway... try to squeeze more sparks out." She herself was catching the mood. Lie many witches her was electrical to start... she didn't have to make the switch like a warlock... like a warlock while some THING in a tank was menacingly sliding closer and all the fire in the world won't seem to save you. Well unless you can catalyze a bonfire.
A catalyst! She felt for the tube, but it was in the shower... it's last embers snuffed, in that watery domain. /The little bullied bastard of glass./ she fumed to herself. The water was very active in there. Too bad they didn't need any.
A catalyst... she calmed herself and thought about it. Searing, burning, cutting. "Cutting!"
"What's that then?" he was still working on his spark gathering.
'You need a catalyst.'
"I'm not a..."
"Well aware but you need a catalyst. Something to grab a hold of. Just like if you were passing fire around as a team. But I can't give you the right spark and while my spark makes a flame it is a mundane flame. The reaction of electricity and... say paper. All the mundane fire in the world won't help. So concentrate on the cutting aspect. Hold your blade. the symbol of not wanting to die... and " she waved her hands about. "Cut it up."
Sure she was fishing for more bridging the gap terms, but when she was discovered to be a witch she got advanced placement and never had anymore fire courses. It was considered a waste. Both of them wished that were different. And while the chemistry refresher was useless, he could always try to ignite the bench.
But it was worth a shot. His knife was sharper than most... maybe she was on to something. Maybe that was the sparkle. A little bit more of himself in the blade. A little bit more panic, fire and fear. Yes. Some strongholds use lenses and light to burn dragon-parts. Maybe just maybe all his parents raw power was in him focused.
A fine straw indeed worthy of pride.
His knife came readily and without flare as always. Some pifted in some blazed their lives into existence. His was just there in an instant. "Since this is concentration it'll probably start spinning."
"Still? You're not 10 anymore," she chuckled standing further away. He motioned towards the alarm. She nodded. Spinning knives? What could go wrong. Many things. You often hurt yourself the most...
He started concentrating again... almost picking up where he'd left off. Most of his gathered sparks were still within. There were so many differences they were rarely cataloged.
Some had a roaring fire within and it allowed a kindling spark to be taken from it... like pulling a log from a campfire to make a torch, or in reverse to set several torches down to create a campfire.
Still others like reaching into a sotty oven for a warm coal. They often make good captains as all the spark light that... brickette... into a true brandishable blaze.
Speaking of differences if she had her blade out and spun it on her finger she'd be using her hand to maintain the spin. Later on she'd use her power as a witch to even spin the blade in the air. She could shear a wing off with that. Size immaterial until there's just too thick a size... and then the size helps tear it off.
But still all the differences can't explain why he's been messing up. So he concentrates. Blade spinning round his finger. Faster and faster it goes.
She'd tell him to slow it down but she can feel his fire gathering. She was starting to catch that primordial excitement humans get around fire. There was something a tad off in what she was picking up. Maybe more worry than fear for his life?
The wing bit was now the size of a dinner plate. This was kinda the last attempt before fire-team work. She needed to reassure him and help his focus.
"Do you feel the fire?"
"Yes... I think I do!"
"Then imagine that dragon there... dead!" she instructed like one of her teachers... minus the pointing knife.
It was over very quickly. There was a blinding flash. But no smell of burning dragon flesh. His knife had stopped spinning. Something seemed off to her but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"It'll be okay..." he said out of the blue.
she looked at his face. he looked strained... in... pain? she cast her glance back. pommel in hand... curved blade like all others... the ring the closest thing to a hilt. All ten inches... accounted... for? Her eyes went wide.
"It... flashed out... to the wing... I heard cutting and searing... spinning all the while..."
The knife was plunged in his side. It had come back, but in the light dazzle he hadn't caught it right... and stabbed himself? She pulled the alarm.
In anger she looked around for the wing-bit to zap it. Cook it with lightning till it twitched no more. Til it withered and died.
"I think... it came back with it..." and he slumped to the floor. the blade fell away clattering only once.
No blood to be seen. The wing had mended... no covered the hole... and likely was trying to... He convulsed mightily. Yes it was trying to consume him.
The next hour was tense. He drifted in and out of consciousness. White robes here and there ordering red and white robes around by the cartload.
"I've told you five times sir."
"Again then! I'll not tolerate cheaters in my school."
"He was just practicing."
A new voice chimed in. "If this were the Cooper lad you'd be onto something. And again if it were the Cooper lad he'd not do it until Finals. This is the Stone boy. Power and failure follow him everywhere."
The boy heard the stern voice pan and shift... even shift gears,"Well then this is a powerful failure. If he lives he may not wish to continue to do so."
"He's been a pariah, sir."
"Oh Miss Everdale. This is far beyond pariah. A Pariah is shunned, ostracized and kicked out. Exiled. This. If he lives is... yes a social outcast... under permanent house arrest. e'll not even be allowed to take his own life if... his new nature will let him."
He was fading out of consciousness again as she asked,"Will let him?"
"Dragon blood broaches no longing for death. It wants to live live live!"
And young Stone dreamed... or saw the future.
Looking in the mirror at the tender tiny scales covering his face, he brushed what signs and evidence he could from them of the previous night. The soft glow remained. This time he was sure it was his eyes... glowing. Perhaps he had blushed his last.
"Don't forget your class."
He /was/ trying to lose himself in the moment. Trying to enjoy his gilded cage existence. Every enjoyable scrap. But with that announcement the Guard would be coming to escort him to the same.
He dreaded the classes most. Because every student that respected him was someone who would be yelled at later. Everyone who smiled while sickened would be reminded later. Reminded by their pals that Stoneman could incinerate you to ash with a snap of his fingers or a secretive glance.
Which reminded him of the same. Of course remembering things was all too easy now.
"Glowing eyes. I like it."
"Most won't."
"Well /I/ like it," she grinned her melting grin,"Rest of you isn't so bad either."
She brushed his chin. His scales never snubbed or caught on her skin. To her he was as smooth as a fish... but he had trouble using towels. He had only the barest hint of twin horns on his head, and a beard that he had to use his mage-blade to trim, as little else would do, so all in all he was far better off then the odd idiot who ate dragon for fame, glory, power or all three.
But they already were at their worst. He till didn't know if he was done. Well not physically. Mentally was always his worry. He was still the older version of the orphaned Stone child... mostly called Stoneman now due to his rough teaching style.
At least he had a teaching style. At least he had a job. He could still help humanity. Unlike some with dragon blood who have to be chained down and experimented on to try to undo... just too much damage.
Even if you reverted the physical like one lady... the mental. Oh that was another mess. And of course much like himself... she actually does have scales. Hers are just even smaller still. She had to be cut down as she faked her mental recovery. Some can't make up her mind if she should be called cannibal or not.
To Stone? She was a monster. Monsters have no species.
He kinda wished he wasn't now a walking catalog of human folly with dragon-flesh. But he'd heard it all now.
She pulled his hood all the way down.
"What in the..."
"You're worried about the eyes. Right?"
"And a /horde/ of other things," he said trying to be punny. Whether he'll get horde tendencies always a worry.
"Then hood down. Show off that resplendent mane."
Lithe and with good hair is how the process left him for now. Granted it was not hair per se. But it acted and looked like hair. Was it micro-fine horns? He'd like to not think about waking up with a pillow attached to his head.
She felt their arrival a second before he did. "Show all the mercy you can."
"They need all the encouragement I can muster. I know."
"Then you'll be great as usual. Off you go."
And as usual right before they knocked on his door he opened it, tried to smile, waved inside once and closed it again. Then they walked together the six of them out of the labyrinth that was built around his current home/dwelling/cell/micro-vault. It was not a stronghold. None had tried yet to go in very far.
And they'd still have to contend with his wife. A title she'd never expected to have. Quite the scene forging that title for herself when she was told she could never see him again, and she was thrown out bodily to find two mage-blades hovering at the throat of the man who ordered her removed. Her own and /her/ Stone.
In fact that was when he actually fully regained consciousness. "Please don't hurt her. This is a show of force."
"... Yes a show of force." the air crackled around her even as the Guard closed in from elsewhere on the floor.
Backing away from the blades, expertly moving forward following his every move and darted escape attempt, not cutting him even as he gulped and spoke,"You aren't perhaps..."
"For all you care I'm pregnant! I am going to see him! Whenever I want!" maybe she sounded a little petulant and childish, but she got the point across.
At this point there was only one blade. And a very embarrassed boy getting over a fatal case of dragon-poisoning.
But that was then and a memory. A time capsule permanently preserved in his mind
This, however, is a bland walk under guard through courtyards, under more scrutiny than a known traitor. Mainly because there are those just watching for the second he goes rogue.
Somehow he always beats his class to the learning trees. A copse grown back daily if needed. Trees that so long ago Cerebus held primary sway over. Now he was afforded the luxury of other classes to better help explore the minds of dragon-kind. Considering-the-new-development.
But still it is the best place to shed and rub on good bark so Stoneman and Cerebus exchange a nod. Central, and First head glowed forth with a solid smile happy to see him continue to be well. Third head now gave a baffled expression, as was the usual lately. But with neither allowed enough time in even semi-privacy to talk, letters were the only way. Big C just had to find the right turn of phrase to grasp all it's nuances... with two heads interrupting. In any event a new letter was nailed to a tree, and then the Three-headed Drake was off to teach his favorite new class: Poetry. The other two heads just had to suffer, and heckle. The heckling was also on the test.
Not a second after the guards spread out, and the students arrived the class began,"Do you feel the fire. You should a dragon was just here. Depending on who you know you might think a dragon stands before you. So. Do you feel the fire?"
Several affirmatives. He immolated his own hands and passed the sensation of immolation around to all of them kindling their inner fire. At that very moment they'd have all made it into the Guard Elite. They were kind of getting used to this. "I said do you feel the flame!"
"Yes Sir!"
With a point of his finger he put the smallest fire in front of the nail damaged tree. "That is now a dragon. Imagine its hatred. It knows your fear. It delights in it. You feel the fire instead! The fire to survive!"
"We feel it sir."
"Then immolate the dragon."
The captain gathered the fire from them all directing it at the tree and the tree was bare cinders... the burnt shed scales a reminder of the smell of burning dragon. Stone rather felt Big C would like this method. Maybe missing the clarity of tearing his own heads off, and then poetry corner but... they didn't struggle for months. And all schools that sent students to train with him felt the flame. And in no time at all they were the flame.
"Wow sir I must say. Always impressive."
He grunted and quirked an eyebrow.
"It's just so impressive to not have to learn from a dragon and... sir... sir?"
But he'd already grown distracted by the need to prepare for the next class and wandered to the refreshments table. And there was always one that gushed and dismissed learning from a dragon. Not knowing even the kindest of them might show you the greatest kindness and use you as an example to show the other students how to have the edge to victory.
He'd been tempted once or twice. Never know when you have to defend yourself or something you love... and you might have to
At a moments notice.
And the dream faded he was on a table, instruments all about him. Roes of every sort arrayed at the monitors. He heard a crash it was familiar. H heard a girl's voice. Saying something so...
familiar, and out his blade came and danced and followed.
He knew what to say from the dream... within a dream? Any way he looked at it it seemed as real as yesterday... or tomorrow? The words came... demanded... anything else might break the tension... poorly.
"Please don't hurt her. This is a show of force."
"... Yes a show of force."
~fin~
This was from a dream... I've been going through a mess of fate grand order, and at some point Monty Python crept in. young Stone there's name might as well be Tim... it ISN'T but might as well be. For he can throw fire like Tim the Enchanter.
This has been the most coherent my dreams have been... and of course there's bit more on the page than what was DIRECTLY dreamt. I always have back and forward fill so... yeah.
Some crystal ball Q&A:
>dragons as icy things?
In this setting they are natively cold blooded. "True" dragons have undergone a metamorphosis to produce some heat internally... by eating people.
>man was gifted the spark of fire?
like Prometheus without Prometheus. it's not quite the same fire as lighting a match. because that's a chemical fire and doesn't itself generate 'ember' in the magical sense.
>so everyone has this ember?
unless they're a witch -born with a lodestone- or learn to convert it, a warlock. The terms are gender neutral in this setting. You would say Bob is a witch if he was born with it or Sara is a Warlock if she had some menace aimed at her or a family member of the watery and covered-in-tentacles persuasion.
>does any fire generate fire? any at all?
none before man came with their interpretation of 'fire'. blizzards make lightning strikes and that made fire but nothing in the world /produces/ 'fire'.
>what made man?
damned good question. I'll have to think on it.
>what made the dragons?
The Shapers of The Void. they reignited the star, and set the planets in motion. it was the perfect dead system. they used most everything extra-system as fuel for the new paradigm.
>so some remnant of this extra-solar whatzit made man?
maybe `-` sounds like a legit good idea to go with.
>it's not Earth.
Nope.
>And yet...
Some things just happen the same when you have humans. Some end up the same but got there differently. here and there a term is draconic in origin. example. if the dragons had a dragon to blame for humanity they'd call that one Pandora. They gave the story of Icarus and Daedalus... drakes of a wingless type using eating humans to fly. Daedalus would have rather plummeted than exploded, and exhaled a brilliant green and indigo trail. Icarus would not. Icarus savored too long. Boom. They were consumed for daring to rise above their station. Now where the dragons got them. who knows `-`
>Consumed
Else they'd have been reborn and who knows what else they'd get up to.
>So wait. That stronghold was put to ash.
Yes.
>So if any parts that got ashed... were /all/ of a given dragon... then that dragon would be reborn?
Yes.
>Dragons come in categories?
From runts and drakes which run the gamut, to true which can consume humans safely and produce fire... up to continent threateners. Think Shooting Star from Lodoss. Some smaller beasts are big threats too depending on lung and stomach capacity. and inhale exhale rate. Drakes even have to check their eggs for trues being reborn in them. Or almost true dragons. they have poorer capacities... until they get bigger @.@
>Is there more?
dunno `-`v
>seriously?
Often once I start I can muddle at an idea almost forever. Then in time I get that next big inspiration and fire it into 7th gear. Then back to idling. Mostly I wanted this out of my head. `-`v
you’ve played a taaaaad too much fate grand order in one go when you look at your dash and just go “servant, servant, that’s probably a master... servant... those are all servants... text post from a master. oh hey text post from a servant...”
When you’re thinking in a looney way and people just fuel it... so you end up blabbing it. Then the crushing realization strikes! It’s not that bad actually.
I think this poor Hylotl Library Spelunksman would have spawned one. Assuming I'm not late to the party...
He's leaving for the unknown -but surely safer... right? And he steps into the transporter with these words:
"The great thinkers tells us"
Rousing start! Nice.
" 'Experience is the Mother of Wisdom.' "
Wise ~.~v
"I'm going to become so wise!"
o.O
Now the trendy/classic Rap Star Endorsed headphones on his neck remind us they're there.
How is this Memetastic? Well if I have to help I will -Memeheads will already waxing ... poetic?
You're about to go on a grand journey... into a Hardware store.
You're about to Hit yourself in the face with a HAMMER. Intentionally. For the Experience!
Drill through the hand? Experience! You're gonna be /so wise/.
Walk out an Airlock without a space suit. WISDOM APPROACHING.
So many Darwin hopefuls could utter the phrase.
Or... to be Nicer. ::eyeroll::
A big Beautiful Cake. Sugar, Experience. WISDOM
New Restaurant opened in Town... EXPERIENCE AWAITS!
Notes:
Trendy -for Earth in the Modern Era
Classic -cause it's more like 2525 than 1995 what with the starships and teleporters and Floran murder/dinner parties.
The Social Media Dumpster fire tells us all we need Newsrooms for ALL Businesses and Creators.
Lemme just set up the inflatable podium with my bubblegum scented newsprint fake credentials on the front...
And can't forget the soap-bubble pipe as I'm also mumbling about societal Brains and societal memBranes. Hmm. I don't have anything to set up for political views... now giant gummy ticks to stick on myself so... gotta skirt politics as if I were a Drift King from the Fast and the Furious. Or Initial D.
So everyone got their popcorn to watch my clusterfuck of bullshit about the dumpster fire of social media? You do? Stellar.
==
These days we have more types of businesses than ever before. Traditional Businesses have often poorly built websites with an infodump at the bottom of every page. Some link to "sitemaps", "glossaries of terminology" or more barebones "indexes". Some have "Contact Us" pages but maybe not "About Us".
But a large percentage have some form of Newsroom. A place where sales, marketing, and the press have dominion to post the big questions about the business:
Who they are partnered with
Why they are partnered with them
When that started
How Communications Broke Down
What the state of the relationships are currently
and
Where things go from here.
With no comments section. Because this is for shouting news into the void. Forums and social media are for the discussion. The video of the signing of the agreements has a comment section. Bloggers covering the fallout or windfall have audiences.
This is where the news goes.
Your Thoughtbubble.Net social media platform is NOT where news goes. MacDowell's and Slamtelligent Systems make a Purple and Green dyed sandwich... there's an Ad on TBN, but the partnership announcement is on their newsroom. No matter how much everyone might hate the collaboration. TBN is not where you lodge the complaint. You vent and rant on TBN about how both groups' Upper Management treat their spouses like notches on a belt. TBN is for venting, ranting, and social interaction.
No one (should) go to TBN for Customer 2 Business interaction. It's faster. And some places don't even HAVE forums or proper channels for complaint. They just have TBN.
HOWEVER
Because of this, and because small businesses and influencers have little else website-wise, everyone thinks TBN is the place for news.
It is only a place to discuss the news. Fallout and windfall might happen there, but policy takes more cranks of the gears to change anything.
MacDowell's CEO trying to have an ex-husband in every state of the union, does not impact his business unless his business partners find it distasteful. If they don't threads on TBN mean little until the outcry drowns out the flow of currency. If they do they will likely determine that themselves without the 'benefit' of the public's opinion.
Even if something is actually 100% unethical. The gears are slow to turn. Zeroes beat Ethics in Rock Paper Scissors.
Similarly for Slamtelligent Systems. No one likes their acronyms on the exchanges. SLAM and ... the other one... don't sit well. So businesses are already leery.
But their products speak volumes. So the single 30 something CEO 'dating' every eligible bachelorette like he thinks he's a Greek God likely gets a shake of the head and a signed contract.
But that's all corporations. It works for Fartin Martin and their stink-stream. It works for Kaos Korner. Because they have news that they need to put out there, but they DO NOT need to fire off a flare to let everyone know front and center on the Social Stage.
TBN is used as their newsroom because they do not HAVE a newsroom. Even if they discuss not wanting to use VitaBubble airfresheners ever again on stream... until it's referenceable for business purposes it's just words.
Their affiliate codes still work. Their streams may loose all branding from VitaBubble. People are gonna wonder what's up.
But no one clipped the announcement so when the VOD times out on BaitTron everyone's favorite video streaming site, no one knows why. Except for a thread full of bots and hate brigades on TBN that should have had comments turned off. Oh but wait it's not a Newsroom. It's a Social Platform. Even paying for your Pink Z doesn't let you snooze comments for more than 2 weeks.
But if they each had a Newsroom, the information could be there. No outrage real or fake. No uninformed opinions from people who have 2 of the 12 talking points memorized... the two that have been disproven naturally... filling page after page of the announcement thread.
Afterall if you wait for VitaBubble to announce it on their Newsroom it will only be after 90 lawyers have combed the announcement, and that's going to be in 8 months. A bit late to the party don't you think?
And everyone online for even 3 seconds wants everything now now now. Because so much IS available now now now. So it's not there now now now there's serious screaming.
So no one even bats an eye about NOT announcing every little thing directly on TBN and its ilk. Some of which is JUST newsroom pabulum, but it fills the void. Insert repeats of the above here as some barely needs to see the light of day. It needed to be on a Newsroom page.
Unless you wanted to be clowned on for clicks and views. I guess there's no such thing as bad publicity... unless of course you're JUST Fartin Martin. AND you are only streaming to 10 regulars and any scrutiny is detrimental as your regulars wanna watch the stink-stream is peace. *gasps for virtual air* And brigades FOR or AGAINST drive them and their wallets away. Then you might not think all publicity is good.
Or you're Kaos Korner and your finances are excellent ... but wait you get 50 MORE viewers a day and that breaks your tax bracket into the next echelon and screws you over as they were just temporary viewers *gasp*. Now you need a subathon to pay your taxes because of all the that temporary influx.
Maybe here too all publicity is not good.
So while you might not be Slamtelligent Systems, laughing your way to the bank in VameZoom number 4 thorium electric hybrid with your latest 'dates', you maybe SHOULD have a newsroom like they do.
I wish I had a recommendation as to WHERE to have one. You need a place that maybe all small businesses and influencers can use -easier cross-referencing- but that's NOT going to become a veritable HELL of flashy ads about Single Rabbits in your area looking to Yiff.
And I don't have a clue... save that since this is on Tumblr I had to reference something odd here at the end amidst all the CURRENTLY fake streamers, influencers, and corporations. Just had to be a little Yifftacular. No need to launch any flares. Plopped here at the end only for Teh Lulz as they used to say.
(I'm 47. I was too old to do anything for Teh Lulz at the time... but that was in Internet Time so long ago I can reference it here at the end and as no one read this far it can just sit here and stew. Heh Heh Heh.)
