Endgame was the highest grossing movie in recorded history ($2.7B) until Cameron re-released Avatar. “Not outstanding” Captain Marvel grossed $1.1B. Failed sequels Thor 2 and Iron Man 2 each brought in over $600M. Thor 1 looks like the worst MCU film revenue wise at $400M.
Endgame was the highest grossing movie in recorded history ($2.7B) until Cameron re-released Avatar. “Not outstanding” Captain Marvel grossed $1.1B. Failed sequels Thor 2 and Iron Man 2 each brought in over $600M. Thor 1 looks like the worst MCU film revenue wise at $400M.
The "something" you're looking for is the stolen 2020 presidential election. That's how the GOP plans to override elections at the state level in 2024 (if not 2022). They're already laying the groundwork with the election fraudits in Arizona and Georgia (so far) and direct legislative control over election certification in a number of other states.
The "something" you're looking for is the stolen 2020 presidential election. That's how the GOP plans to override elections at the state level in 2024 (if not 2022). They're already laying the groundwork with the election fraudits in Arizona and Georgia (so far) and direct legislative control over election certification in a number of other states.
Endgame was the highest grossing movie in recorded history ($2.7B) until Cameron re-released Avatar. “Not outstanding” Captain Marvel grossed $1.1B. Failed sequels Thor 2 and Iron Man 2 each brought in over $600M. Thor 1 looks like the worst MCU film revenue wise at $400M.
Endgame was the highest grossing movie in recorded history ($2.7B) until Cameron re-released Avatar. “Not outstanding” Captain Marvel grossed $1.1B. Failed sequels Thor 2 and Iron Man 2 each brought in over $600M. Thor 1 looks like the worst MCU film revenue wise at $400M.
I see the Poll went up while I was writing a little story set in our new world. What the heck, I'll post it anyway. I tried to fit in as much of the world as I could without going all checklisty, so I apologize in advance if your favorite bits didn't make it in.
You may find aspects of the story familiar.
A TALE OF FOLLY:
THE TOWER OF BELAB
King Belab believed he was the mightiest monarch in all the World, and he may well have been right. His father, grandfather and great-grandfather had all been great conquerors. Belab ruled a full five times seventeen archipelagoes, rich in all the good things of life, and also much gold. With such a population to tax, he was personally mighty as well: strong enough to break stone with his hands, dextrous enough to knock butterflies from the air with a flicked pebble, tireless, cunning, and so comely that people begged to serve him.
(And wisdom? Well… His grandfather had bought up his wisdom, and ended up abdicating to live as a hermit on a wave-swept skerry. So Belab left wisdom for his advisors.)
It was not enough. Belab easily defeated every personal foe, but what could he do to make himself the greatest of his line? To become, indeed, the greatest in the World?
So Belab sent seventeen times seventeen heroes to scour the World for the greatest treasure of all: a wish. (He knew about the Fire Dragon, of course — his great-grandfather had summoned it to burn several troublesome islands — but the Fire Dragon’s methods for granting wishes usually involved burning everything that was not the desired result. Useful for some things, not for others. Anyway, it had been done before.)
At last, a hero returned to present King Belab with a grungy, chipped clay jug with a clay stopper. “I have better,” the king remarked, and motioned for the executioner.
“No, wait!” the hero said. “It summons the Genie! I used it myself. The Genie appeared, and I wished for the jug and the Genie to pass safely into your possession, for you to use. Open the bottle, and call out the Genie! If it fails, I shall gladly lay my head on the executioner’s block.”
So Belab took the jug, pulled out the plug, and commanded, “Come out!” And the Genie did, appearing in a puff of smoke. This time, it appeared as a bright purple Quantim with three heads, carrying a bright pink tribble.
The Genie bowed low and said, in three-part harmony, “Master, what is they will?” It raised one hand, fingers ready to snap.
And Belab said, “I wish to rule the entire world, and all who live in it!”
The Genie paused. Then it paused again. And again.
“That… is not possible,” it said carefully. “Only the Gods can affect the entire World, and even then there are restrictions mortals wot not of.”
(“Wot not of?” one counselor whispered to another. “Who talks like that?”)
“I heard that,” the Genie said. “And near-divine spiritual beings talk like that, to show they’re serious. Want to make something of it?” The counselor raised his hands and backed away. The other counselors followed, and perhaps they showed wisdom in not wanting to get involved.
“Anyway,” the Genie continued. “I can’t grant a wish to change the entire world. “I can grant a wish to change arbitrarily large portions of it. So if you want to rule everything and everyone within a thousand leagues, or become the master of Sitnalta, that I can do. Or, how about this: You become absolute master of all the world that you can see. Ready?” And it raised its hand again.
“No!” Belab interrupted. “I know this one. You make me master of what I can see right now. I already rule my palace, so I’ll have wasted my wish.” He thought a moment. “You grant a deferred wish. When I’m ready — when I see a part of the World I want to rule — then I make the wish, and you grant it.”
“Heh,” the Genie said. “Clever. And within the rules. Done.” It snapped its fingers, and a wand of wood appeared in Belab’s hand. Okay, a twig. “When you’re ready, break the wand. All that you see then becomes yours, and all people living there become your willing slaves.” It turned back into smoke and streamed back into the clay jug. The plug leaped from Belab’s hand to stopper the jug again, and the jug vanished.
Belab was well pleased with himself. He’d heard the stories about wishes and genies and sausages on noses. But he had gotten the better of the Genie! “King Belab,” he murmured to himself. “Super Genius!”
Immediately he gathered soldiers and servants for a journey to the highest island in his kingdom. Eagerly, he scanned the horizon. To his anger and disappointment, he could not see any place he did not already rule.
Now what? Take ship to some other archipelago, or the great land mass of Okanadu? The Genie’s wand would make any place an easy conquest, but Belab wanted more than that. The answer came to him in a flash of insight. Move higher. The higher he was above the World, the more he would see, and so the more he would rule. As the Genie said, it wouldn’t be the entire World, but it could be an arbitrarily large portion. And he smiled.
King Belab soon found that raising himself higher was easier said than done. Ride a firehawk into the sky? Alas, he was not himself fireproof. But Belab had a great kingdom to draw upon, so he chose a simple method: He would build a tower. So he commanded; and so it was done.
From all the islands of his kingdom came carpenters and masons. An entire city grew at the foot of the tallest mountain. Seventeen times seventeen shiploads and caravans of building materials arrived every day for the builders of the tower. And it rose, higher and higher. When it threatened to topple, buttresses were built from the sides, then buttresses to the buttresses, and immense loops of chain to pull the structure inward against its own more-than-mountainous weight. The very mountain it stood upon was hollowed for building stone, until it became a vaulted shell.
Each Fleenday, King Belab ascended his tower and looked toward the horizon. Indeed, he saw new lands, places he knew of only from sailor’s maps. Then places even the sailors did not know. But always there was a smudge on the horizon that might be more.
People rebelled, of course. King Belab’s soldiers slew them, leaving fire and blood, until the people learned to obey once more.
Saboteurs tried to stop the construction: Fairies, Quantim, Fire Hawks, the Dreaded. The soldiers stopped them, as well.
Prophets rose to warn that King Belab attempted too much, that he would trespass on the prerogatives of the Gods. That led to more rebellions. Heroes came from afar to try killing the king. But prophets die, just like other mortals, and King Belab took quarters in the immense cobweb of wood and brick, stone and chain that his tower had become, where no one could find him if he did not want to be found.
Then the storms came. Gale after gale. Folk murmured that the prophets were right. The fire Dragon came — and fell to a barrage of great stones hurled from machines or by King Belab himself. He boasted, “The Gods themselves cannot stop me!”
At last the chief architects of the Tower (by now it more than merited a capital letter, and needed no other identification) came to King Belab and told him they could build no higher. “There is no more room for buttresses! There are no chains strong enough! The very stone cracks under its own weight. Climb now, and be content.”
“You know of no other way to build it higher?” he asked the eldest of the architects.
“None,” said the elder. King Belab beheaded him.
“And you?” he asked the next-oldest architect.
The second architect pleaded, “Great king of all kings, I cannot give you what I don’t know!” So Belab beheaded him as well.
“Do any of you know anything?” he demanded. “Or is your usefulness at an end?”
The remaining architects looked at the headless bodies burning on the pavement of Belab’s chamber. Then one raised a trembling hand.
“I have heard,” he said, “The Charr-Loti can raise structures of webs and spars. Very light, but very strong. I have not seen them myself, but it might be true.”
And so seventeen more champions went forth with soldiers, and they returned with a Charr-Loti who knew the art of spinning webs that support themselves. They also brought many of the Charr-Loti architect’s kin. King Belab explained, in detail, why the architect should fear to defy him, and the Charr-Loti agreed to build the Tower higher.
Another year of labor passed. At last the Charr-Loti said the Tower was ready. “When it is raised, you could touch Timra’keth’s topmost blanket,” she said. “Though I fear what would happen should you do so.”
But King Belab was beyond fear. He strapped himself into a basket at the center of an immense web of silk and bamboo that the Charr-Loti had spun on the top of his Tower. Countless laborers pulled on the guy-ropes. The great web pulled in on itself, and the basked rose.
Clouds gathered for a great storm — but the Tower already rose higher than the clouds. It shook from the wind and lightning, but the chains and stones held. King Belab laughed as he saw the tempest far below him. He shouted down, “Higher!” And rose, one league, two leagues, seventeen leagues. And as the clouds cleared, he saw new lands on the horizon. “Higher!” Ten thousand leagues he saw. He could have an empire that made his present kingdom seem like a dot. But there could be more. “Higher!”
… and then a butterfly, tossed above the clouds by the great winds, fluttered wearily to the strands of the Tower.
And, exhausted, died.
One Quantim noticed the butterfly and the little puff of flame on the strand of silk. He vanished, and so he lived to tell the tale. If anyone else saw… it was too late.
Crackle! Snap! The silken cable burned, and broke. One end, still aflame, touched another cable as it flailed. That cable burned, too. Two cables, four cables, seventeen cables, seventeen times seventeen!
Up above, King Belab felt the tower of webbing shake. Did he have time to pull out the Genie’s wand? We do not know. For in seconds he was falling falling, falling, as the silken tower unwove itself. He crashed into the top of the Tower like a stone from a catapult — and the entire Tower shook. Stones cracked. Chains snapped. Buttresses collapsed. And the Tower fell. Avalanches of masonry slid down the mountain, though not far, until the hollowed peak collapsed in on itself.
The column of dust rose to cover the sky like Timra’keth’s blanket. The dead among the mountain of rubble caught fire, and set the wooden props ablaze. Fire engulfed the mountain of rubble. The Fire Dragon appeared, but there was no one living to demand anything from it, so it flew away.
No one can guess how many thousands died in the Tower’s fall. More died in the fighting as Belab’s kingdom fell apart. So it goes. But there is some balance in the World, and some limited repayment. His island was left with a great deal of metal, brick and stone ready to be reclaimed for other purposes.
Many came from far and wide to dig through the fallen Tower in hopes that, somehow, the Genie’s wand had not burned and they could use it themselves. Nobody found it. No one even knows what crushed and charred fragments of bone might have been King Belab’s.
The Tower is all gone now, travelers say. Some claim the ice took the island, though others say Belab’s island remains temperate and the mountain where he built is now a shallow lake. That, and the tale, are his monuments. And a word: People say, “Belabor” when they mean someone is working too hard and too long on a project or an argument, to the point of abuse.
As the other poster in this thread who actually likes the MCU, the trailer is interesting though it doesn’t explain much about what kind of film it will be.
It’s also weird to see Gemma Chan again after she died in Captain Marvel. But I’m not complaining, believe me.
Never consumed though perpetually burning,
Lighting the gloom with my comforting flare,
Darkness and gloom are no match for my glory,
Winter and blizzards alike must despair.
Fauna/Flora: Everburn Trees
The saplings of the Everburn Tree catch fire after two years, and the tree will continue to burn merrily through the rest of its centuries-long lifespan. The flames do not harm the tree at all--in fact they help it outcompete other plants and ward off the effects of frost. Many towns and villages are built around mighty Everburn Trees, as their inextinguishable light and heat are extremely useful.
As waves grow in height
Their crests will ignite
Great breakers of fire
Make traveling dire
Geography: Burning Seas
Some water is flammable. Who knew?
Is it a gift
Or a definition?
What once was makeshift
Has become tradition
Gift to Civilization. Cooking
Cooking is civilization--raw food is for savages. It is against the tenets of Vaiyarran to eat food that has not been blessed by the touch of fire.
Ignite a vast pyre
And they'll heed the call
Alive comes the fire
Enveloping all
Eyes kindle alight
Scaled body soars
Fierce talons shine brightly
Searing breath roars
As landscape turns ashen
Its summoner may chant
Beseech the new dragon
Three wishes will grant
Mythic Monster or Guardian: The Fire Dragon
A fire that grows large enough gains form and sentience as the spirit of the Fire Dragon inhabits it. Once summoned, its main purpose is to burn everything in sight, and it will take to this with enthusiasm. But whoever started the fire that spawned it may call upon the Fire Dragon to grant him or her three wishes.
Eternal migration
On pinions aflame
A wild conflagration
Reclaiming decay
They burn out the stagnant
With merciless gaze
They stoop on the ruins
And set them ablaze
They feed on the remnants
And take flight once more
Burning ascendant
On fire they soar
Sentient Life: The Fire Hawks
Through a trick of metabolism and divine intervention, these giant raptors are perpetually aflame. They wander the world looking for areas of dead undergrowth or old structures, then set them alight. This drives any occupants out of hiding where they may easily be hunted. Fire hawks are very long-lived (as being on fire discourages predation) and possess equally long memories, and the oral traditions they hand down makes them invaluable sources of wisdom for those who can remain in their presence.
(author's note: Apparently fire hawks are really a thing, in Australia of course: https://wildlife.org/australian-firehawks-use-fire-to-catch-prey/ )
When I drive away the shadow,
When I turn the knot to smoke,
When I melt away the fogbank,
When I burn away the cloak:
There remain no deceptions,
No obstacles for sleuths,
I destroy all obscurement,
What remains is
I swallow worlds, I eat the night
There's no end to my appetite
Though my thirst is only slight
Every being fears my bite
No weapon can impede my might
Strike me, but I'll win the fight
As a career IT architect and current cybersecurity analyst, that is definitely a pretty bad take. It's hard to know where to begin, but suffice to say that cybersecurity "best practices" 1. rarely go far enough and 2. are usually sabotaged by senior bureaucrats through underfunding and lack of support.
As an example of 2., consider that my last supervisor directly asked that I falsely attest to our organization's PCI compliance status. Hence, the new job.
Finally, although this is not a draft pick, I would like to humbly suggest as a player that we officially rename this entire endeavor World Creation Superdraft V: The Gods Must Be Crazy.
Old Man got a reaction from pinecone in Marvel Cinematic Universe, Phase Three and BEYOOOOONND
Old Man got a reaction from slikmar in Marvel Cinematic Universe, Phase Three and BEYOOOOONND
Old Man got a reaction from Matt the Bruins in Political Discussion Thread (With Rules)
Old Man got a reaction from Dr. MID-Nite in Political Discussion Thread (With Rules)
Old Man got a reaction from Grailknight in Marvel Cinematic Universe, Phase Three and BEYOOOOONND
Old Man reacted to DShomshak in World Creation Superdraft 5: May 2021
Old Man got a reaction from Pattern Ghost in Marvel Cinematic Universe, Phase Three and BEYOOOOONND
Old Man got a reaction from Pariah in The Academics Thread
Old Man got a reaction from death tribble in World Creation Superdraft 5: May 2021
