Drunkard's Walk Forums

Oooookay... this is new.  It wasn't exactly a voice, per se, as
it seemed to be entirely inside her head, but if pressed she'd
say male, adult, and definitely confused.

"What?  Who said that?" Taylor demanded, more than a little
confused herself amidst the panic.

Me.  Not that I've actually said anything, strictly speaking...

Taylor groaned.  "Then could you please either shut up or make
sense?  I'm busy dying here."

Ah.  And that would be why I've been turned into a noncorporeal
passenger in your head by certain Fate-shaped entities of my
acquaintance.

"Still not making sense or shutting up," she mumbled.

Sorry.  Let's see what we can do to get you out of this locker
and its oh-so-delightful contents first, and then I'll do my best
to make more sense.  There was the slightest pause in the mental
voice.  Although my C.O. would tell you that you're probably out
of luck on that front.

It wouldn't a wormfic without starting in a locker.....

And now for a bit of an experiment.  Let me know how well it works.

A Contributor to Wikipedia in a World Much Like Ours Wrote:Sack of Rome (1527)

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From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

...

The Stand of the Swiss Guard and the Unknown Guard

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In the event known as the Stand of the Swiss Guard, 149 of the Swiss, alongside the garrison's remnant, made what they then believed would be their last stand in the Teutonic Cemetery within the Vatican. Their captain, Caspar Röist, was reportedly badly wounded but refused to leave his men. The Swiss fought bravely, but all contemporary sources agree that they were hopelessly outnumbered and would have been annihilated by the German and Spanish mercenaries had it not been for the arrival of the mysterious figure known variously as "The Unknown Guard", "The Frenchman", "The Man in Grey" and (after 1535) "Saint Duglas the Defender".

According to eyewitness accounts, the Unknown Guard appeared among the defenders without warning just before the mercenaries' attack.  He was a stranger to the Swiss, dressed in "oddly-wrought" grey leather armor and a rounded helmet described as being made of horn, and was armed with only a sword and a staff.  Survivors of the Stand universally agreed that he spoke no Italian, only an unfamiliar dialect of French, and accounts record the name he gave as "Dugas", "Dulgas" or (most commonly) "D(o)uglas".  In addition to praising his martial prowess and his often ribald ability to boost morale, multiple reports also attribute supernatural feats to the Unknown Guard, including summoning lightning and fire against the mercenaries as well as healing the wounded members of the Swiss Guard with a word and a gesture.[a]

After a pitched battle that lasted almost an hour, the vastly outnumbered Guard were inexplicably able to repel the Spanish and German forces with minimal casualties.  The mercenaries broke and fled, only to rally for a second attack upon the Cemetery shortly thereafter.  However, their brief retreat allowed the defenders, accompanied by a band of refugees, time to fall back to the Basilica steps.  There, still counting the Unknown Guard among their number and still under the command of Röist, they managed to stave off the troops pursuing the Pope's entourage as it made its way across the Passetto di Borgo, which was a secure elevated passage that connects the Vatican City to Castel Sant'Angelo.  The mercenary forces were once again driven into a brief retreat after an enthusiastic defense and counterattack bolstered by further supernatural attacks attributed to the Unknown Guard.  This final retreat gave the surviving members of the Swiss Guard the opportunity to escape into the Passetto di Borgo themselves.  At some point during the escape the Unknown Guard disappeared and was never seen again.

...

Notes

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a.  ^ These claims have long been dismissed as hyperbole or outright fabrications, and the various stoneworks and paving stones within and outside the Teutonic Cemetery with "melted" appearances explained as fanciful later additions inspired by the legend.  However detailed analysis of the melted stoneworks made in 2013 by a team from Sapienza University of Rome not only confirmed their claimed ages, but determined that the alleged sculptures actually had been subjected to heat sufficient to melt and glaze their surfaces.  Further, almost every such stonework also contained a quantity of cremated human bone mineral embedded in its outer layers.[24]  Several mechanisms have been proposed to explain these discoveries, but none have proven plausible.

...

References

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...
24. ^ Accorsi, Alberto (2014), Punito dai fuochi di Dio: convalida per le leggende di San Duglas il difensore. Milan: EDI.ERMES s.r.l.

I really have to wonder how Doug's team mates would react to the news that he is an actual, canonized saint. Not that he would really have any way of finding out, let alone them, but still.

Why wouldn't he? The Sack of Rome is actual history - all it takes is Doug visiting a story that branched off from actual history after 1527 for him to be able to find a copy of Punito dai fuochi di Dio: convalida per le leggende di San Duglas il difensore.

EDIT: Maybe there's a copy in a used-book store in Borribles London or Sister Princess Tokyo, for all we know.

True enough, I suppose. Now I really do want to see it...

I should note Doug is already almost sorta kinda an official saint according to a higher authority. In the last chapter of DW-5, "Harold Laird" tells him

Quote:And if there were a patron saint of free will, you would be it.

It's a title he'll use later, although he's careful to say "I have been called" and not "I am".

(08-24-2022, 12:00 PM)robkelk Wrote: [ -> ]Why wouldn't he? The Sack of Rome is actual history - all it takes is Doug visiting a story that branched off from actual history after 1527 for him to be able to find a copy of Punito dai fuochi di Dio: convalida per le leggende di San Duglas il difensore.

EDIT: Maybe there's a copy in a used-book store in Borribles London or Sister Princess Tokyo, for all we know.

Not during the periods those stories took place, though (1970s and 1990s, respectively), as the book was published in 2014. (Says so right there in the reference note.)

Oh, and for a little more info on the historical event there into which I dropped Doug, there's this informational video:



(I recommend turning on the close captioning, as it will clarify some of the lyrics that are hard to understand due the speed and the singer's accent.)

Of course, Sabaton has a song about it.

I read the Wikipedia article about the actual sack. It could stand some proofreading.

(08-24-2022, 05:53 PM)Inquisitive Raven Wrote: [ -> ]Of course, Sabaton has a song about it.

I read the  Wikipedia article about the actual sack. It could stand some proofreading.

*nods*  It's the title track of the Last Stand album, all the songs of which are about battles where a group of heavily outnumbered defenders were either unable or unwilling to retreat, (in chronological order, starting with a song titled Sparta).  It's a mix of successful and unsuccessful defenses.

Well, from what I can tell, Sabaton specializes in songs about historical battles. I spent some time last night speculating on how far back they go mining history for events to set to music.

(08-25-2022, 03:12 PM)Inquisitive Raven Wrote: [ -> ]Well, from what I can tell, Sabaton specializes in songs about historical battles. I spent some time last night speculating on how far back they go mining history for events to set to music.

well, as I just said in my previous post, the Last Stand album starts with a song about King Leonidas and the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae. 

Granted they've gotten a lot of songs out of the 2 world wars (in fact both their last 2 albums have been about WW1) but they've written plenty of songs about earlier time periods

Thermopylae is the song that reaches the farthest back AFAIK. The most 'recent' are about Soviet paratroopers in Afghanistan and about the UN peacekeepers.

I just saw One Piece: Film Red, and on the way home I thought of this story for the first time in ages. I couldn't help but wonder how things might have gone down if Doug had been present at Uta's concert, and how his power might interact with

After dismissing his underlings, Lex returned his attention to
the screen built into his desk, intending to review the latest
status reports for the company's current priority projects.
But before he could even open the first, a male voice said,
"Well, so much for that idea."

Casually drawing his hand past the "panic button" sensor built
into the desk, Luthor turned his swivel chair with deliberate
slowness to face the speaker. There, perched on the low granite
sill of one the office windows was a man in gray leather
clothing and a motorcycle helmet, also gray. Within the opening
of the helmet were a pair of solid black goggles that hid much of
their wearer's face. It went without saying that he hadn't been
there a few moments earlier, and that he didn't *belong* there.
*Someone* in Lexcorp's security division was going to get fired
before the day was over, Lex swore to himself.

"I beg your pardon?" Lex said calmly, as he furiously thought.
The defenses on his officer were such that neither the alien nor
any of his allies could simply appear in it without warning or
notice -- so how did this stranger manage it? "And what idea was
that?"

The helmet tilted slightly. "You have a reputation as the
smartest man in this version of Earth, and I was hoping I could
ask you for help."

Interesting phrasing. "This version of Earth?"

The helmet nodded. "I'm a dimensional traveler, and I'm lost,
looking for my home timeline. It's very similar to this one --
it has metahumans, too, which I've found in my travels are
actually quite rare across all the versions of Earth out there.
So our worlds have that in common. But our organizations,
prominent figures and politics are quite different from yours."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

He caught a flash of a grimace on what little face he could spy
around the goggles. "Well, for one thing," the man in gray said
with obvious disgust, "Amanda Waller's little fiefdom would never
be tolerated."

Hm. The so-called "Suicide Squad" program based in Belle Reve
had been dragged kicking and screaming out of the shadows by
multiple press outlets just the week before, and Waller was
already being roasted by a Senate investigating committee. "I
presume you were responsible for their recent... publicity?"

A shrug. "I may have accidentally kicked over an anthill here
and there while looking for someone to help me. Speaking of
which, I was pointed at you, and I've been watching you for a
while now." He made a vague gesture. "You seemed promising, but
after what I've seen, I'm going to have to say 'thanks, but no
thanks'."

Lex smirked. "I'm hurt. What made me unacceptable?"

The helmet tilted again, and Lex got the impression he was being
studied for a long moment. "Seriously? You're as brilliant as
I was told you are. Easily more intelligent than I am, and
that's no small compliment, given I'm one of the smartest people
in my home timeline. But you've hobbled your intelligence, your
potential, so much so that you're useless to me."

He frowned, not liking the sound of that. "Hobbled? How?"
Lex wondered where Mercy and his security team were -- they
should have stormed the office by now.

The man in gray paused, as if debating with himself, before
replying. "You've wrapped yourself so tightly in your prejudices
and preconceptions that you can't accept anything that doesn't
mesh perfectly with your worldview. If I've learned anything
about dimensional travel in the century or so I've been searching
for my home, it's that researching it requires an open mind and a
willingness to accept the unexpected and counterintuitive." He
shrugged again. "You just don't have the ... *flexibility* to
help me." Lex thought he saw a smile flash across the man's
mostly-hidden face. "Your subordinates know this, by the way.
They've learned not to present you with ... unacceptable facts
and conclusions. They've realized that doing so often costs them
their jobs. You should do something about that, it's a
disastrous trait for a CEO in the long run."

He hopped to his feet. "Well, that's it, I guess. I could've
just left without making myself known, but I thought you'd want
to hear that. Thanks for letting me waste your time, Mr. Luthor.
Don't bother getting up, I'll see myself out." With a flick of a
finger he slid open a panel on the side of his helmet that Lex
hadn't noticed earlier.

"And where will you go next?" Lex growled as the man in gray
tapped several keys revealed by the sliding panel. "To talk to
the alien?"

The other man stopped with his finger hovering over a key, and
tilted his head quizzically. "Who? Oh, you mean
what's-his-name... Superman. No, he's the one who sent me to
you." He made a gesture halfway between a salute and a wave.
"Thanks again. Bye." Lex surged to his feet but by the time
he was standing the man in gray had vanished.

(06-14-2023, 09:20 PM)Bob Schroeck Wrote: [ -> ]The helmet tilted again, and Lex got the impression he was being
studied for a long moment.  "Seriously?  You're as brilliant as
I was told you are.  Easily more intelligent than I am, and
that's no small compliment, given I'm one of the smartest people
in my home timeline.  But you've hobbled your intelligence, your
potential, so much so that you're useless to me."

He frowned, not liking the sound of that.  "Hobbled?  How?" 
Lex wondered where Mercy and his security team were -- they
should have stormed the office by now.

The man in gray paused, as if debating with himself, before
replying.  "You've wrapped yourself so tightly in your prejudices
and preconceptions that you can't accept anything that doesn't
mesh perfectly with your worldview.  If I've learned anything
about dimensional travel in the century or so I've been searching
for my home, it's that researching it requires an open mind and a
willingness to accept the unexpected and counterintuitive."  He
shrugged again.  "You just don't have the ... *flexibility* to
help me."  Lex thought he saw a smile flash across the man's
mostly-hidden face.  "Your subordinates know this, by the way.
They've learned not to present you with ... unacceptable facts
and conclusions.  They've realized that doing so often costs them
their jobs.  You should do something about that, it's a
disastrous trait for a CEO in the long run."

Did you happen to draw any inspiration from Lex's half of the latest Hermione's New Job chapter, or was it a case of convergent evolution? I ask only for information.

A nice NanoStep. Depending on the version of the DC universe, Doug wouldn't even need to be the one to out the Suicide Squad. The recent Peacemaker television series had the program exposed by Amanda Waller's daughter in the final episode. Of course that version of the DCU presumably has the Jesse Eisenberg version of Lex Luthor, and he just lacks the cold presence I'm reading in this piece.

Quote:Did you happen to draw any inspiration from Lex's half of the latest Hermione's New Job chapter, or was it a case of convergent evolution? I ask only for information.

I was indeed prompted by that, although it took a couple days before it occurred to me that Lex would be a fun target for Doug to bounce off of. Plus I've considered Luthor to be basically crippled by his prejudices since I first saw the story in which an underling had deduced Superman's secret identity and Luthor fired him because he simply couldn't conceive that someone as powerful as Superman would willingly be a "nobody" like Kent, and that made for a good axis to spin a nanoStep around.

Superman sending Doug to Lex Luthor and Doug going 'no thanks' is just a massive burn of Luthor.

Also, 'you keep firing people for telling things you do not like, this is bad for a CEO' is just good advice in general, and knowing Luthor he just will not understand how that could possibly be true.

Quote:Superman sending Doug to Lex Luthor and Doug going 'no thanks' is just a massive burn of Luthor.

<grin> Exactly as planned.

November 10, 1975

Captain Ernest McSorley clutched the rail that surrounded the
pilothouse with one chilled hand as he checked his watch. Five
PM. The stranger had been hard at work on the deck below for at
least fifteen minutes now, ignoring the roaring gale and driving
rain as though they weren't there, and somehow able to keep his
balance in all but the most extreme heaving and rolling as the
ship struggled through the rough waters of Lake Superior.

The man in gray had appeared out of nowhere on a flying...
McSorley didn't know what to call it. It looked like a cross
between a motorcycle and a jet plane, and the man in gray had
ridden it out of the storm atop a blue-white glow that looked
more like lightning than the bolts that struck the churning waves
aound the ship did. "Never mind who I am," he'd said. "I can
try to help you get the last fifteen miles you need to reach
Whitefish Bay, otherwise you're going to go down."

McSorley couldn't deny that... the ship had a history of flexing
even in the best of weather, and he and the crew had been hearing
the groan of stressed metal for hours now. It was a wonder she
hadn't broken in half already. "Do it," he'd said. The man in
gray had nodded, and then parked his... vehicle just behind the
bow. McSorley had stationed himself on the narrow deck
surrounding the pilothouse, where he could look down on what the
man was doing. Despite the storm, he had no intention of letting
him just do... whatever, unwatched.

The man in gray had crawled around the thing on his hands and
knees with one glove off, and flashes of actinic light lit him
from below, like an arc welder. Where the light came from,
McSorley couldn't guess, but when the flashes stopped, the man in
gray sat up and opened up the side of the device, revealing
nothing at all that looked like any kind of engine McSorley could
recognize. He spent another fifteen minutes, punctuated by the
heaves of the deck and curtains of driving rain, doing
something to its guts.

Finally he slammed the panel shut and climbed into the thing's
seat, as if he were about to fly off again... and for a moment
McSorley feared that that was exactly what he was about to do.
But then there was an unexpected moment of calm in the midst of
the tempest, and the wind carried words, apparently spoken by the
man to himself, to McSorley's ears. He frowned as he puzzled at
what they might mean.

"Okay, time to cheat Lightfoot of a hit. Please, schooled,
don't let me fuck this up."

Then he flipped several switches on the dashboard (control
panel?) between the thing's handlebars, and it began to emit a
howl like a jet engine, loud enough to be heard over the gale and
the thunder of the storm. That blue-white light was back, only
now it was sheeting across the deck and running like tracers
along the rails.

McSorley suddenly realized the rolling of the ship had abruptly
stopped. They were still heeled over, but even as it registered
on him, the ship ever-so-slowly, ever-so-gently levelled itself
out. With as much dignity as he could muster, he dashed around
to the side of the pilothouse, where he could look down at the
churning surface of the lake -- a surface that was growing
farther away even as he watched.

Captain McSorley wouldn't've believed it had he not seen it.
Slowly, ponderously, the SS Edmund Fitzgerald was rising into
the air, all thirty thousand tons of it.

Nice!

I briefly wondered if, in a convergence of irony of Canadian folk music, he was playing "The Mary Ellen Carter" — but I guess that's more for raising shipwrecks, not preventing them.

Well, that and encouraging the discouraged.

In an amazingly rare event, this was entirely a tech-based rescue -- basically spot-welding his bike to the deck and then retuning the gravity drive to support the whole hull. (And I should note I did my research for this, and all the details are accurate; as is often the case, there was more (and more interesting) stuff I didn't have room to include.)

"Warriors! Come out to plaaaay!"

I'd seen this movie, and I knew he wasn't talking to me. But because I'd
seen this movie, I knew who they were looking for were framed. So I came out
anyway, without bothering to load a song -- they were just normals --
although I put my helmet in combat mode just in case. "I'm the only Warrior
here, boys. But I'm in the mood to play," I finished with a grin.