I've Got a Twig (Twig Let's Read)

fabledFreeboota · Feb 28, 2018

As organized as Westmore had been at the start of the evening, things were devolving. The warbeasts were out of their cages, and every time they set foot on an area that wasn't roadway, they left the ground torn up. Those areas soon became cesspits of mud. Stitched were gathered, but there was less rhyme and reason than before. Rank and file in hooded jackets, steaming in the rain, guns in hand. Weapons were being rolled into place, and officers were having to work harder to enforce discipline.

I like that sort of detail. I kind of want to see a warbeast going full "tank in the mud", getting stuck in a quagmire. Its a nightmare for the army too, that's going to be a pretty good chunk of path that's unuseable too. I'm looking at this arc more and more with a lens of "Twig would make a good game". Not an RPG. Just a couple of players with a table full of medical experiments and zombies.
After safely navigating the streets of Westmore, the Twigs man the ramparts... from safely behind. Of course. Cos they're kids, and tend towards being bad shots.
We watch a warbeast vs warbeast fight.
The army fights to push forward through the bastion of lunatics and madmen. And our six kids. Bleh.
This chapter ends with the drugged up soldiers revealing that they are in fact, undruggupable poison proof supersoldiers.
END QUOTE!

I was reminded of Mauer's speech on the horrors of the battlefield. I realized what might have driven a soldier to subject themselves to that kind of ugliness.

They've made their elite soldiers immune to the plagues, poisons, and parasites the Academy might use against them.

They'd traded away the secret, but they'd seized the front gate in exchange.

Oh no. I guess you'll have to fight a war rather than exterminate half the countryside.
KEY QUOTES!

Gordon gave me a cool look, ducking his head below the rise of the short wall between us and them, but he didn't gesture in response.

I knew it was dangerous and suicidal. But our only ability to truly control this situation depended on information. The Brigadier seemed set on attacking the enemy, and if we decided we needed to change that course, then we needed new details to bring to him. If we decided the attack was the right plan, then that information could only help.

If there was a chance we could figure out what they had up their sleeves in time to prepare our side, that could be the most important thing.

It all hinged on our ability to actually obtain that information. Simple observation wouldn't do. The explosions and the vibration of one wall-mounted gun at the far end of the wall were making it hard to focus.

SPY VS SLY!

Someone or something had accompanied the warbeast. Inside it, under it, hiding on top, I couldn't guess. That figure would have had to have hidden in the shadows at the very base of the wall, knowing that the rifleman with the bugged-out eyes was picking off anyone who raised their head too high or leaned too far over to look down. To work in concert, with that kind of trust, it had to be the woman with the teeth. The sniffing woman. Melancholic.

She'd brought a bomb, something larger, she'd waited until the explosives and fire raining down from above had slowed in amount, ordered the warbeast back and out of the way-

Had the gate been open for our warbeasts to go through, she might have had her creature carry the bomb into our ranks, or planted the explosive further in, during the chaos, to make it a difficult or impossible to defend our wall. If we didn't have the stairs up to the platform at the top, to shoot over and see what the enemy was doing…

A very "Helm's Deep" feel to this fellow.

The warbeast charged, and the billowing smoke expanded out of the way, showing its head. It had rammed through loosened wood and planks, head sticking through the gate.

An order was given, one of our beasts, the energetic one, lunged. It gripped the enemy warbeast in its teeth, holding onto the thing's head, twisting and wrenching. The struggle damaged the gate further, but the enemy warbeast quickly faltered, its skull being crushed at an agonizing rate.

Our beast won, tearing the enemy warbeast's head free of its neck. The amount of blood was astonishing.

Not important. Just amusing as heck.

fabledFreeboota · Feb 28, 2018

The spot we'd chosen to hide ended up being one of the worst possible positions, short of actually standing in between the two forces.

Stones, planks, sandbags and barrels had been set down by the side of the road. We crouched there, using them for cover, while bullets flew. They smacked against the sandbags and stones intended for use in repairing the gate. Others struck the street and the dirt a matter of feet behind us, likely ricochets more than anything.

It was hard to see, with both sides using noxious smoke and gas. Both sides were fighting more or less blind, only a hundred or two hundred feet from each other. What my ears told me, however, when I strained to process what was out there behind the shouting and the report of gunfire, was that the plague men were silent, the only noise being the tramp of boots as they shifted position and took cover. Our side was doing the same, but they had to cede ground to the gas, sending the stitched on and forward.

"Idiots," Gordon said, right in my ear. He was closer to the end of the pile of supplies, nearer to our people than to the gate. I strained my eyes to see what he was seeing.

The Twigs watch their side lose. Sy fakes an injury, which results in him becoming freaking insane with agony. Bit of a mistake there. They get captured, but flip it around cos Flash Gordon is the type of kid that can take down any number of inhuman gas masked grunting soldiers.
Sy reckons they shouldn't destroy too much. Helen reckons otherwise, and they resolve to burn everything to the ground.
END QUOTES!

We ducked under the bottom of the canvas flap, peeked into the adjoining tent, and then moved through there.

The enemy's focus was on the front lines of the battle, from the sounds of it. There were barely any figures in the makeshift camp they'd set up at the gate.

But they'd brought some supplies and they'd left some behind. The incendiary weapons they'd used to dispose of the warbeasts were among them.

Any building we passed that had a window was on fire moments after we'd left it behind us. Nearly blind, we passed through the freezing rain, heading straight for their back lines and for the other Lambs.

The kind of people that just torch the city behind them. Hooray. Scorched Earth. Rule Brittania and all that. Kinda saddened by my inability to root for the Empire on this one, cos I'm usually sitting there watching the ginger haired mutton chopped lunatics chew scenery.
KEY QUOTES!

The problem was, warbeasts like these were built to last. They could take the gunfire offered by the armored cars, close the distance, and then there was nothing the armored car could do. One headbutt, and the car could be rolled. Claws could tear at doors or hatches, and powerful limbs could tear at guns.

That had led to a series of countermeasures and counter-countermeasures. Bait cars were rolled into the field, set to explode when a warbeast attempted to roll it. Warbeasts got smarter and tougher, or they got mass-produced. It was too expensive to make those bait-cars compared to how easy it was to grow the beasts. More inventive countermeasures had to be developed.

It was hard to wage a war when one side was forced to constantly outdo itself in being inventive and devious, and the other simply had to do the same thing they were doing, only a little bit better every time. Stronger, faster, tougher.

Fighting the Academy, in allegorical form!

The exorcist's fire had died out, and the third warbeast was dead. Scary to realize the plague men had dispatched three of the things, and I wasn't sure they'd lost more than a half-dozen of their own.

It was more alarming to realize that the primary source of gunfire was in the other direction from the gate. A little ways down the road. Hopefully it was because our side had pulled back to regroup, and not because the plague men were crushing us underfoot as they advanced.

No Sy, I'm pretty sure the villains just won. I do hear the people sing. I do.

There were shouts and calls. More people at the gate. The enemy was moving up. I couldn't tell if it was ten or fifty. My vision was suffering too much.

I judged distance, took the broken black crystal and poked a hole in my shirt, so it stuck through. I did it with more of the shards, spreading them out.

I looked at the black crystals. If they were poison, and I was resistant to poison, were they worse for someone else? Or were they not poison at all, their design a detour of sorts? A way to simulate pain without using the regular channels?

Either way, this was going to suck.

Fingers placed alongside the fabric, spikes of black crystal poking through and pointed inward, I slapped the fabric against my own stomach, the biggest shard touching the wound Mary had opened up.

The pain was immediate and mind-altering.

Sy is the kind of kid that thinks up this plan.

Cynthia had to have told them to watch out for children. My educated guess had been right, however. These were men who'd undergone changes for a reason. There was a rationale, partially driven by fear, but partially driven by a desire to oppose the Academy. They were almost an incarnation of that.

Opposing the Academies meant opposing the way the Academy operated. There had to be a sense of conscience in there. A child wounded with a weapon meant for monsters, even if they had orders to kill children on sight? I'd gambled on them showing mercy.

This one had a parasite living under his skin on one side of his face. It kept moving, making his facial features change each time. One of his eyes didn't close properly.

Parasites that would prey on other parasites? Chemicals to counteract other poisons or stave off disease, all with their severe side effects?

I love this bit. Congratulations to the embodiment of people turning themselves into monsters in order to destroy monsters.

fabledFreeboota · Feb 28, 2018

Indivisible said:
Wildbow makes such wonderful nightmare fuel doesn't he? Still, the best thing about Twig is the character interactions and sussing out relationships and how people really feel. It's fun looking at what Sy reacts to and what makes him act cruelly.

I don't want to comment too much on it until you mention it, because I'm not sure when precisely it's explicitly mentioned in the text and I don't want to spoil you.

It Just Seems Like Being dismissed Or Forgotten Right Now.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 1, 2018

Our fires raged at one end of Westmore. A full quarter of the city aflame. Though the wood used to grow portions of buildings and plant matter grown to seal the gaps between stones had been treated to make it less combustible, it was still wood.

Stitched, buildings, chemicals, it took so little for the Academy's work to go up in flames.

Today's read through is brought to you by Fire. Angry mobs and saboteurs alike recommend Fire. Fire consumes all. Fire purifies.

The Twigs, by which I mean Snakehips Sly and Flash, make their way through the (now burning) city of Westmore. They get caught after a tangle with Melancholy, who calls their sniper Sanguine.

She takes them for a bargaining session with the Brigadier, where she hopes for him to hand over the remaining Twigs so that she can have revenge for the deaths of her friends.

Helen makes her an offer she can't refuse.

End Quotes

Gordon and Mary hurt and bleeding out, with enemy forces between us and them. The location surrounded, the city overtaken by armies and fire, and Melancholy's orders had been the only thing keeping the enemy from assaulting the Lodge. Now she was dead.

The moment they realized that, we were done for.

Melancholy just smelled defeat. 3/4 Humours inhumed.

Crap. Shoulda done that for the rest of the gang. Ah well. There's a chance to do this for the next gang built around a theme.

KEY QUOTES!

Harder with Gordon than with any of us. He already looked like someone in his early-teens. He'd grown early and fast. Almost to the point where someone might have thought he should be in uniform with a gun in his hands.

Gordon knocked.

We carried on listening. I was pretty sure we were thinking along the same lines. That, being as close to the fighting as we were, we wanted to be extra careful.

She had hold of my hand, and was squeezing it, hard.

Mary prided herself so much on perfectionism. To be hampered, damaged, a sense failing her, unable to be her best, it probably knocked her legs out from her, like the fire had been intended to do for the enemy forces.

Let's check in on how the characters are growing up. Yep. Still horribly violent and twisted children. Still broken. Still pitiable in a "working for monstrous people" way.

"Do you know what their real plan was for us?" she asked.

She paused, as if she expected an answer. Had I not screamed myself mute, I still wouldn't have been able to say anything, with the grip she had on my throat.

I grabbed her arm for support, as if I could alleviate the pressure.

"Four of us. Bastards kept giving us missions. Even when one of us weren't in full working order, or when we were feeling the hurt from recent surgeries. Do this, find this person, kill them. Bring us the body. Again and again."

I sputtered out a breath, but it was a breath out, not in.

"They told us if we failed too many times, or if we got recalcitrant, then they would move on to phase two. Take us, butcher us, and keep the best pieces of each. My nose, Phlegm's ears, Cholera's body, 'Guin's eyes. As for brain, well, that's how they tried to set us against each other. Telling us that the most obedient, the one most willing to turn on the others-"

HEY TWIGS! THIS! IS! YOUR! FUTURE!

Taken apart for bits or killed in action by a new generation that's better than you are.

Melancholy stood as if crucified, or as a bird in flight might appear, her arms gripped, twisted, and pulled back. Helen perched on her, feet finding purchase in the small of the assassin's back.

The assassin shifted her footing. Slowly, but with surety, she contorted, body twisting, head turning as well, to a greater extent. She drew her mouth open, and even my ruined eyes could see the whites of her teeth. Opening wide, as she drew ever nearer to Helen's face, a bear trap ready to take the front of Helen's head off. Helen pulled away, contorting in her own fashion, but she couldn't do more without releasing the assassin.

I swear after every other arc we need a reminder that Helen is more snake than girl.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 1, 2018

"We need to win this," one of the men who'd been with the Brigadier spoke, "We're being overrun."

"I'm pretty sure the plague men are immune to poisons, parasites, and diseases," I said, still blinking. "They have the firepower to gun down your monsters, and they're zealous. Stitched are falling faster than they should, and your specialists, rank-and-file and officers are getting intimidated."

In a word, you are being overrun.
Helen puppeteers the clothes and scalp of Melancholy such that the team of lunatics are able to escape and make their way out of town. After a long and touching conversation between Jamie the bookworm and Sly the streetsmart that reinforces the way that everyone is broken, the team decides they can't bug out and call it even until they murder Cynthia. Possibly until they burn a second city.

END QUOTE!

We slowly made our way out of the coach, many of us hurt, offering help where we could. Only Shipman remained behind, with the driver. She avoided our gaze.

We had a job to finish. Westmore was a wash. Even if our forces won every fight that followed, it would be chalked off as a loss. A detriment to the Crown.

But the rebellion wasn't in a position to commit halfheartedly, and Cynthia hadn't been in or around the tents where I'd been brought for treatment. She was still in Whitney.

Vulnerable.

Barely illuminated by the rising sun, we made our way down toward the city.

Oh hey look the Twigs are gonna do the same thing The Holes of the Head gang were going to do.
KEY QUOTES!

It was a bad joke in stage plays, one child atop another's shoulders, trying to be an adult. But Melancholy had a heavy black raincoat, and Helen was an actress. She already wore Melancholy's scalp.

"You've got a hump," I observed.

Helen contorted, shifting position.

"Pressure, ow, pressure!" Shipman raised her voice a little.

"Shh!" I hissed. "You can damn well cope."

"She's digging individual toes in between my ribs for a foothold. I'm allowed to say it hurts!"

"Bring your knees in," I said.

The bits poking out beneath the armpit receded.

"Better," Shipman said.

"Don't care," I said.

"Too tall," Jamie observed.

Helen dropped her height an inch.

"Too short," Jamie said.

Helen raised her head a half-inch.

Exemplary control over her own body. Not perfect, but enough to make the difference. To sell this in a way that wouldn't normally work.

Weekend at melancholy's. I only know of that film through Homestuck. Also, more details about how eerily elegant and serpentine Helen is.

Jamie spoke, not taking his eyes off the dead plague men, "Back around the side roads, up to the north end of Westmore. You can appear at the rear of our own forces, and lead them with knowledge of what the enemy is likely doing. Their forces will have been pulled back from the front. You can flank and destroy, then use the momentum."

"Or command a retreat," the Brigadier said.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"I haven't decided," he admitted. "We'll see. I don't think Westmore is salvageable. But it may not be for them, either."

I nodded.

There was a pause.

Nothing more to be said, except-

He extended a hand.

Again, my eyebrows went up.

"You made the best of a bad situation," he told me. About the best compliment I could get, given the circumstances.

I took his hand and shook it.

"We'll be going now," he said, moving over to the other coach, which was already slightly turned to the northernmost road in the fork. "Lost time is life spent. Especially in wartime."

Brigadier is a good person. Etc.

"And, as I'm reminded with the plan to off the rebellion doctor, your insistence on attacking the people who are kindest to you."

I shrugged. I'd deflected the last two comments, but I felt like I couldn't with this one, without being dismissive of the weight it seemed to carry with Jamie.

He was too gentle a soul.

"I'm suggestible, like you said," I said, eyes on Jamie's knees. "My oldest memories are of days and weeks of people consoling me, telling me it's going to be fine. I'm so brave, I'm so kind. They'll give me things. I just have to stop crying, stop struggling, stop making trouble."

I raised my hands, gesturing, "Kindness, then unbearable pain. Kindness, unbearable pain. You can do that to a slug and it's going to leave a lasting impression. People are kind to me, then horribleness follows. No. I'm done with that. I know what lies beneath the surface."

Ok Sly. You bruised and tormented person you.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 2, 2018

Cynthia leaned back. "You're sure?"

Sanguine nodded.

"You did the right thing, coming back," she said. "No signal from Melancholy or the others?"

Sanguine shook his head. He smiled with a mouth that was too small for his face. "It happens. We have very strong personalities. We get caught up in our activities."

Our enemy arc opens up with Sanguine. He's polite. He's precise. Honestly its just fun to be following this guy. He feels like an older Twig. He feels like what happens when the kids grow up, grizzled and waiting to die.
The Arc is a wonderful journey into... fighting the twigs. They are evil, vicious children that leave a trail of murder and destruction behind them, and they manage to kill almost the entire management structure of Whitney in a single night. Watch as people scamper, run, and panic over the destruction these creatures are letting loose.
That is all.
END QUOTES!

Sanguine saw a glimpse of the boy on the roof, already turning to run, scampering along wet shingles and peaked roofs. He might have had a shot, if he wanted it. Yet Cynthia was flailing, reaching out for help. Every heartbeat counted when it came to saving her.

He straddled the fence, a coin flip between one or the other.

They'd been given orders to leave the Lambs alive. Orders he hadn't cared about, as his earlier shot at the boy had evidenced, but given this knife's edge of a decision… he turned his attention to Cynthia, who was partially engulfed in fire.

She could be saved, at least more certainly than the boy could be shot down.

Beauty gone. Even the rebellion's best doctors would struggle. It would take time to fix.

But there was nobody left to work with. Better to have her alive, so he had a place. He'd have his Lamb-hunt another day.

Sanguine. Lets talk about the fact that Sanguine doesn't really seem to be Sanguine. That's a narrative joke.

KEY QUOTES!

"Speaking for myself, I don't know," he said. His eyes remained fixed on her face, but he altered his focus, until his peripheral vision was sharper than what he could see in the center of his field of vision. He could see her cleavage as clearly as if he was nestled in it. The pores, the tiniest, fairest of hairs, the drop of sweat that traced its way from her neck down to her collarbone, then down into the alluring shadows that her blouse cast. His smile widened. "The smoke is too thick. I might wander the outskirts. But I thought you should know about the fire, and I wasn't going to get much for my time. I won't, really. Even if the fires are extinguished, the smoke will still rise."

I love this guy already. I have high hopes for him. Honestly, Twig seems pretty good at the monsters of the week being remarkably entertaining.

"You're scared," he observed. He could see the softest, most vulnerable parts of her, the base of the throat over the pulse, moving faintly in response to the increased heartbeat. She was pretty in such a natural way, but she'd gone to lengths to make herself prettier still. That she did it because it was just another tool or a weapon for her to employ was something special. Yet… "You're packing up to run."

More Cynthia being a self made woman. Hah. Literally.

The girl was straddling the officer, who was in bed, wearing his pyjamas. Her knees were pressing his arms down, but he was undoubtedly strong enough to throw her off. The wire she had around his throat was keeping the man still. She held it with one hand, the wire wound around the handle of a knife. The other hand was on the headboard, so she could lean forward, her face inches from his. She was wearing a raincoat over a dress with lace at the ends. Twelve or thirteen years old, ribbons in her brown hair.

But she had the eyes of a killer. Her pupils were contracted to sharp points.

Sanguine stepped forward, thrusting. The floor creaked.

The girl moved, rolling to one side. The wire unspooled from the handle, and Sanguine lunged for it, using the sheer length of the rifle to try and get the point of the bayonet's blade under it.

The Twigs from outside perspective are terrible, horrible and creepy children. They are all nightmarishly precocious monsters.

"Sorry about Melancholic!" the voice called out, so innocent it was almost taunting. The sound bounced off walls of a nearby alley. "I broke her!"

Ah. Wasn't that too bad?

Still, he smiled. The theatrics were a nice touch.

"Choleric too! Riddled him full of holes!"

Sanguine nodded. He believed it.

"And poor Phlegm! Killed him again!"

Marvelous control of sound. Changing position, letting the voice carry, bouncing at him from different directions.

Phlegm would have liked that, ironically enough.

He felt sad, but it was a small sadness. Not that his colleagues were dead, but because he'd always assumed that when one of them fell, the rest would fall in short order.

And, Sanguine told himself, he didn't plan on dying tonight.

I swear my read on this guy is ruined by my inability to read lines like this without a chipper voice. Sanguine is rather Sanguine.

Indivisible · Mar 3, 2018

The Humours were pretty great. I remember at the time that we were convinced that there would be a fifth humour, because why no name your assassins after a group with a known number if not to catch the target off guard. The other guess was that there would be three, so that even if they were all taken out the target would be hampered by paranoia. This chapter definitively disproved that idea.

Sylvester is cruel when people are kind to him.

You can see this in his earlier interactions with Lacey, and how he deliberately pruned his project members down to two people who blatantly don't care about him.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 4, 2018

Indivisible said:
Sylvester is cruel whe

I can't tell if it's more horrible for that to be learned behaviour or programmed.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 6, 2018

New Arc! Lamb to the Slaughter!

Arc predictions. TONIGHT, A TWIG DIES!

Jamie walked down the hallway while reading a book. I tackled him, throwing my arms around him, pinning his arms to their sides. Mary joined me, clapping a hand over his mouth, her other hand making sure he didn't drop his book.
"Mmph."
"Shh," Mary said. "We need your eyes."
"Mmph?"
We led him over to the window. Helen was already standing by the window with Lillian. We were on the second floor of Claret Hall, overlooking one of the grassy open spaces where students were eating their lunches, most doing it while looking over papers, making notes, or having discussions. Always working, working, working.
A canopy of slanted glass panes set between interwoven branches directed the rainwater onto stylized grates, with the water disappearing into some underground reservoir. There was a steady patter of rain, but it was also a hot summer day, making for the kind of humidity where clothing stuck to the body. Gordon was there, sitting on a bench beneath a tree, unfolded paper on his knee, a partially eaten sandwich in hand. Shipman was on the other end of the short bench, arm's length from Gordon. Brown bottles of Sassafras Beer had been placed on top of Shipman's papers as a kind of paperweight. Meeting for lunch, between their individual tasks.
"You're better at lipreading than I am," Mary said.

This is the most delightful and lighthearted opening we've seen of the Twigs. What wonderful horrors will the author visit on them now?

Well, Gordon breaks up with Shipman. The Twigs decide to cheer him up by heading out into the city, meeting a few old friends. A few rambunctious street kids.

END QUOTE!

"Who're you hiding from?"
Craig made a face.
There were more ears listening, now.
"Come on," Gordon said. "Out with it."
"It's awkward, given you are who you are," Craig said. "Don't know if I should. Don't want to hurt our ongoing relationship."
Gordon punched Craig, hard, in the arm.
"Try again," Gordon said.
Craig frowned. "The Academy. Pretty sure it's the Academy. Picking off the little ones. They go, they don't come back, they don't turn up at that Orphanage of yours."

Oh.... So that's what the arc name means. Because they're making more lambs. Or rather, they're trying to. With trial and error! Goodbye, homeless children. Ragamuffins. Thieves. Beggars. It'll have to be medical experiments for the lot of you.

KEY QUOTES!

"I feel like you and me together has been more apologies than…" Jamie said. Shipman had paused, hesitating. Jamie resumed a moment after she did. "I don't know the right word. But a relationship should be about being secure with one another and not having to apologize. There should be that security."

Poor Gordon.

"Safe spot for the young," Gordon said. "Every generation or so, you'll get a group that look after each other, not as an organized thing, but it'll just happen. Because there's too many kids who don't have a good reason to go home and they have to spend their time with someone. Every other generation or so, you'll get someone who 'makes it'. Who has a shop or a house or something and they aren't hard up for cash, and who looks after kids. The mouse is for places like that, or for groups that'll look after you if you're young."
Lillian nodded. She'd left her hood down, and her hair was wet. She brought her hands up to tuck wet hair behind her ears.
"Three triangles for a fox," Gordon gestured at the corner of one building, near to the ground. There were two such markings there. "Is the fox. That's not one you used to see very often, and you'd never see it in pairs. Usually people would work together, deal with it, and the only fox mark you'd see would be crossed out."
"There was one earlier, too," Jamie said. "By the waypoint."
"What's the fox?" Lillian asked.
"The fox preys on the mouse," I said.

The wonder that is waifish children trying to survive on the streets.

"Your fault he knows we know. I'm obliged to punish you," I said.
"What? No."
"Something slimy down the back of your shirt, maybe?"
"No."
"Or an ice cube in your underpants, Lil?"
"What? No! I don't even know how you would, but no! Don't you dare."
"Or something in your ear…"
"Gordon," Lillian said, "Don't let him."
"I'm just really fascinated by the insight into how Sy thinks," Jamie said, his voice dry. "It's all very physical torments, two out of three for getting under Lillian's clothes, no less."
"That's fascinating," Gordon said.
"Wait," I said, "Hold up. "We're tormenting Lil here, not me."

Even the characters are pausing to grab quotes off each other and look for banal, if not trivial, insight.

We walked the gauntlet, no less than five different experiments sniffing, touching, or waving digits at each of us. Prehensile limbs, antennae, and long-fingered hands gave us each a thorough search. One limb snaked through the armhole of my shirt, before sliding down my back, sweeping sweat free.
"Ow," Mary said, as long fingers tugged at a knife she'd worked into her hair. "Careful, you."
Other fingers from the same lumpy figure poked at knives resting flat against the small of her back, the outlines just barely exposed by the humidity-soaked clothing.
"I'm reaching for a badge," she said, moving slowly, talking to the Academy student who was overseeing the things. She raised the badge, to show the man.
"Let them on through," he said, sounding disinterested.
The morass of various creatures that had investigated us were quick to listen. I wondered if they had human brains in there, or if someone had gone to the effort of making a nonhuman brain that understood speech.

These scenes are just neat, fascinating, and showcase just how creepy some things being organic can be.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 6, 2018

"I want the youngest ones out," Craig said.
There was resistance. Daisy stiffened.
"If I haven't had you in on previous leadership meetings, I don't want you in on this one," Craig said. "Git!"
Daisy rose to her feet. Two more kids joined her in heading for the stairs.
"If there's any sign of any of you listening in, you bleed," Craig warned.
An unsteady sort of leadership here. One enforced with knocks on the head and crude threats. But it was necessary. Anything else wouldn't work on kids like these, who didn't know other sorts of authority, and the alternative was having no leadership at all.

I mean, this is just sorta amusing really. Six arcs and I swear this is the second time Sy and co have actually done anything involving another street urchin outside of the first chapter.

This chapter sees Sly and friends making a bunch of excuses that it clearly isn't the Academy kidnapping street urchins for medical experiments. I'm leaning on the side of "Yes they are" and "This will horrify the few twigs that actually feel empathy for their fellow human beings"

Also, there is a lot of characters changing clothes. Everyone wants to look more "impoverished" than "employees of the sinister government organisation"

We see a lot of character beats, establishing and reinforcing every character's relationship with the others, such that we have a clear understanding that the team is still a team, and that we're pretty sure that Sy is being checked out by everyone other than the terrifying snake girl and the guy that just got dumped.

END QUOTES!

"You okay?" he asked.
I cocked my head to one side. I mulled over the question for a bit.
"Not sure," I said.
"We'll distract you with a good mystery,' Jamie said. "How's that? Foxhunt."
I smiled.

Bugle Call noises ensue. Bumbumpdamamamamama

KEY QUOTES!

"What I see," Gordon commented, "Is the skinniest little bastard. Half of the people in this house don't even eat regularly, and they've got more meat on their bones than you do, Sly."
I offered him an obscene gesture, pulling on the dark gray sleeveless shirt. In a proper outfit, it would have been an undershirt at best. For the here and now, it worked for casual wear in the poorer end of town. Shorts, shirt, no shoes.
"Jamie," Gordon said. But he threw -not tossed but threw– the clothes at me instead. I caught them, took them over to Jamie, and draped them over his back, as he hunched over his book.

Tiny and crooked child.

"If it had been just Helen in here, I don't think you would've looked," Mary said. "You have that mortal fear of her."
"Healthy fear," I said.
"He finally talks!" she said. Mary sounded merry. She was damn well enjoying herself, putting me in this situation.
"And if it was just Lillian, you would've teased her. Said something or done something, to get a rise out of her. Then you would've protected her, holding the curtain closed like you did for me."
"She's fun to tease."
"She likes being teased," Mary said. She turned around, stepping closer, "Look over my shoulder. I want the ribbon to run along the same line the collar does."

Eh, I still had an opinion leaning towards Sly hooking up with Lilian. With that sweet young romance that all young privileged white sociopaths go through. Dunno. I reckon this is gonna be a recurring theme this arc.

But yeah. I kinda read this more as Sy pushing back against her, trying to get her to hook up with gordon. Spare some heartbreak.

"You do. Some. And," I said, "When we're in danger, Gordon's the one you turn to. Gordon's the one you ask about, the one you leap to the defense of. He's your first pick when we're pairing off. He's the one you show interest in. When Shipman was there, you stepped into the background more. When she left the picture, earlier today, well, you started wanting to show off to boys. Even if it meant giving some strange boys a thrill by allowing them a peek, knowing you probably wouldn't see them again. Letting Sy in as you're getting dressed, telling yourself you have confidence and that you're pretty, which you are. I don't think you're aware, but Gordon's more important to you than I am."
"No," she said.
"Yes," I said, intense, then again, less intense, "Yes."
She shifted her grip on the knife, frowning. I saw her move a little in frustration, not sure where to go or what to do. I thought she'd storm out.
Instead, she held the knife to my throat again. "This is supposed to be one of those times where you lie. You bend the rules and you play unfair and you keep your stupid mouth shut, and you and I fumble our way along and there's more like more of this and it's good."
"If I could've, I would," I told her. "Really."
"You should've," she said.
"But we don't have the luxury of time. The Lambs won't be around forever, and within a couple of years, maybe a couple of months, or weeks, or days, or hours, there'll be one less Lamb. Then one less, then one less," I said. I paused. I didn't like saying the words. "Like I said… the sooner the better."

CHARACTER MOMENTS! THIS! WILL! BE! MORE IMPORTANT! LATER!

Indivisible · Mar 7, 2018

At this point I'd like to repeat how much I appreciate that Wildbow, when writing something that could be called *punk, remembers that the British empire was freaking horrible.

Can you call someone privileged when they are a child being painfully experimented on who isn't considered a full person?

Gordon's last talk with Shipman was a delight.

Sy telling Mary to go for Gordon instead of him was a big relief to readers at the time, because the way he interacts with her is pretty manipulative. The comments talked about how it could easily become abusive. His entire relationship with her is based on a lie he told her, and he spent a lot of time making her dependent on him.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 7, 2018

Indivisible said:
At this point I'd like to repeat how much I appreciate that Wildbow, when writing something that could be called *punk, remembers that the British empire was freaking horrible.

Can you call someone privileged when they are a child being painfully experimented on who isn't considered a full person?

Gordon's last talk with Shipman was a delight.

Sy telling Mary to go for Gordon instead of him was a big relief to readers at the time, because the way he interacts with her is pretty manipulative. The comments talked about how it could easily become abusive. His entire relationship with her is based on a lie he told her, and he spent a lot of time making her dependent on him.

His privilege is that he can eat square meals, has guaranteed employment, and can't be kidnapped and experimented upon.

And yeah, big relief. Hes foisting off her emotional dependence on another teammate. urgh. St is just... Evil. Precocious evil child.

Blake the serial killer really is the nicest Wildbow protagonist, isn't he?

Indivisible · Mar 7, 2018

fabledFreeboota said:
His privilege is that he can eat square meals, has guaranteed employment, and can't be kidnapped and experimented upon.

And yeah, big relief. Hes foisting off her emotional dependence on another teammate. urgh. St is just... Evil. Precocious evil child.

Blake the serial killer really is the nicest Wildbow protagonist, isn't he?

I agree that his position in the Academy provides him with a lot of economic privilege, but uh, he's already being experimented on. Like, explicitly until it kills him. There was also the chemical leash before Fray spread it around.

On the bright side, Sy hasn't been coordinating with Gordon about emotionally manipulating Mary, so it's kinda better? *incredibly uncertain thumbs up*

With Blake all you have to do to avoid being messed with is avoiding messing with him and his loved ones. Skitter will mess with you if she deems it necessary and Sy is Sy. I haven't been following Ward so I don't know what sets off that protagonist yet.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 8, 2018

My finger traced a symbol that had been etched into the woodlike growth at one corner of a building. Two 'v' symbols.

Lillian and Mary were looking.

"A death happened here," Gordon spoke.

I nodded. "Older cut. The weather's worn away the splinters and hard edges. Not relevant."

"There are a lot of foxes," Mary observed.

"Probably Craig's mice, trying to put the pieces together. Leave a mark wherever the ghosts were seen or suspected to be active, try to trace their paths or find clues," I said. "Jamie?"

Poor urchins and undesirables and unmentionables and... wait. Allegories for history... I dunno. Doesn't feel like workhouses. I'm just... I'll be more surprised if it ISN'T the Academy. They torture and mutilate people for medical experiments. Regularly!
THE CITY IS FULL OF SYMBOLS! EVERYWHERE! EVERYWHERRRRRRREEEEEEE!
After having to deal with... oh. A city that has been destroyed by the Academy, full of warnings of escaped experiments... After a hundred and one character beats, they eventually find a lead, and start following a pair of suspicious Asians.
END QUOTE!

One woman. The Eastern one. Between the time they'd stepped behind an obstacle and now, one of the two had become a ghost.

Mary was drawing a weapon.

I drew the blade she'd thrown at me.

Gordon's group seemed to get the message. Gordon hopped down from the rooftop, out of view, Helen and Lillian following, in that order.

The problem with hunting predators, was that the tables could so easily turn.

We moved, running along wet, loose shingles, weapons in hand.

Dump dadadump dadadump!
KEY QUOTES!

He smiled, "I'm used to being trampled over. Um. There's the man, older, usually seen with the carriage, and then the three women. One of the women is a blonde, another is a redhead, the third is from the East."

"Eastern Crown States or over-the-pond East?" Gordon asked.

"Across the western pond," Jamie said. "Chinese, Japanese, or something like that."

"Huh," Gordon said.

"You don't see many of those," I remarked. "They aren't usually allowed, given we're at war with them."

"I thought about it, and I don't remember seeing anyone fitting that description around Radham," Jamie said.

"Is it possible they're not actual Academy personnel, but an experiment?" Mary asked.

"Very," Gordon said.

"It's just the impression I get. One man, at arm's length from the rest, sending his creations out to do the dirty work," Mary said. "And sometimes men like making pretty women when they're making their servants."

"Do they?" Helen asked. "I had no idea."

Character beats, worldbuilding, (how the hell do you fight the academy without your own?) and more of Sy's deductions. Kinda neat, just picked it out because.

On a door, a circle, with three pairs of the 'closed eyes' that marked death. Again, it was old. Simply a sign of life in the shims. More for remembrance than anything else, though there were areas marked with innumerable 'closed eyes' that were essentially back alley battlefields. I saw the three crossed lines that formed a six point star, warning of Academy lawmen, and a series of diamonds around a 't' shape, which warned of a monster. An escaped experiment, very likely.

We reached the church and found it empty. Dust was thick in the air, the light catching it, and plant life had grown up through floorboards, climbing up the walls. It was strange to see a church which had Academy materials, but I saw the less-straight, organic patterns, framing some of the windows, reinforcing some of the cracked stone. From older days, before the Crown had started taking issue with the cross. It came down to power, as so many things did.

Once-white sheets stained with leaked, fatty tissues and bodily fluids were laid out on pews, of varying ages. The bodies they covered were emaciated, mummified by the changes in temperature and the elements that had made their way in through broken windows and cracked walls. In lieu of burial, people had been laid to rest here for the scavengers to gnaw on and the weeds and moss to embrace.

wOrLdBuIlDiNg! This is bloody awesome. This is the people that live in the Academy's city. That's what the orphans were for... I kinda want to wonder about this story's placement after an arc where we see war from the Academy's perspective.

I looked, searching, and in roughly twenty seconds, I saw the real ghost carriage come down the path. An Academy vehicle, washed free of dust by the rain, with nothing to suggest it was in any state of disrepair, a matching set of horses, covered by drapes to protect them from rain. Stitched.

"There we are," I observed.

Jamie stood to go look. He handed me his book, where he'd scratched out a map. He touched that map with one finger, moving it as the carriage traveled.

"I thought we'd have to spend a while waiting," I said. "Maybe hunt a grass-rat for food? What the hell are they doing?"

"Don't know," Jamie said.

The carriage slowed, then stopped.

Two women got out, wearing labcoats with hoods. One had long, very straight hair, the Easterner, the other had red hair, curvier than the first. They started walking, a very leisurely, sure pace. Moving as if they knew where they were going.

I mean. Here's the thing. If they're dressed like the Academy, in Academy vehicles, stealing kids for Academy style experiments... Even if they aren't Academy, its the bloody principle of the matter. These are the exact same kind of people that they work for.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 8, 2018

The weather was hot enough that the air shimmered in the distance, heat rising, a light rain falling. The city was covered by a haze, giving it a dreamlike quality, yet my adrenaline was focusing my senses, making the immediate surroundings extra sharp. Reality was a dilapidated neighborhood, crowded together, surrounded by walls and a city crowned by tree branches. The heat shimmer and the movement of the rain made it seem to be growing by the second, yet it never went anywhere.

We open with more city worldbuilding and scene painting. It's pretty, and we rush past it in a rather cinematic way as the Twigs cavort, jump, caper, and fail to hit the women they identify as chameleons, ghosts, and other evocative names. Let's call them something silly like ghouls. Or creeps. I dunno. Klons sounds good considering the implications of the end of the chapter.
They fail to get them because they just drive off past a checkpoint after the Twigs fail hilariously to deal with a checkpoint. Recurring theme that their kryptonite is the common man actually doing their job.
END QUOTES!

"I'm exhausted," Jamie said.

There were a few nods. Lillian was among them.

"It's rare for me to have a feeling and be unable to pin it down," Jamie said. "But does this methodology feel familiar to anyone else?"

My eyes went straight to Mary. She had a dark look in her eyes. Before I could speak, she did.

"Yes," was all she said.

Oh.... It's one Academic in particular rather than the system. Or at least, its implied to be Dr. Branch. Percy. Whatever. Eh... Still leaning on the side of it being just the Academy...
KEY QUOTES!

Her aim was better than I'd thought. I had weighed the odds, and considered a civilian with a knife in their shoulder or head to be worth it, but Mary was better than that. The first two knives didn't veer far off course, and they didn't hit anyone. Crates, boxes, and the side of one cart, striking violently enough to interrupt conversations and turn heads.

The third hit one of the larger monsters that were serving as guards, just a little past the front of the carriage. Solidly built, with a bulging, translucent forehead and reptilian cast to its horned skin, it was nonetheless humanoid. I could hear it roar, see it react with pain. It lurched forward, lashing out, and shouldered its way into the horses at the front of the carriage, and the ensuing movement and chaos made one side of the vehicle rise up. Forward movement arrested.

One, worldbuilding. Two, Sy and the Twigs are literally uncaring about the crowds around their victims.

I scowled, falling silent.

The men with guns approached, and we waited patiently as they drew near, hands raised.

One day, we're going to invent a better brain. Then we're going to put that superior brain in everyone's heads, and stupid things like this aren't going to happen, I thought.

I considered it for a moment, then amended the thought to add, as much.

Clever Sy, but I'm quite interested by the implications of this as another "World view" like Helens. Sy being frustrated when he is ignored, sidelined, etc. Just a solid quote to full out.

"They're weapons. Evasive ones. They're aware of their surroundings to the point that they can avoid trouble and isolate targets, they pass as either employees of the Academy or as prostitutes, to slip past our defenses, whichever works. Individuals you don't question, ones that can distract, or ones that you're afraid to pay too much attention to, depending on who your commanding officer is. Probably different identities for different checkpoints and situations. Chameleons."

The captain's look hardened into one of grave concern.

"I think you should notify people further up the chain," Gordon said. "Because this is as serious as it gets. If they're capable of doing this, they're capable of worse, and with a war going on, they might not just have three. Or they might have these in cities other than Radham."

That's rather interesting an implication. I dunno. I mean, the conspiracy of Dogface, Dr. Branch etc doesn't exactly seem like they're against the Academy in general so much as grabbing for power. I dunno. I mean, taking over the world or revolution or whatever doesn't matter as much as taking a bit more power. And they seem more driven by power than goal so far.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 22, 2018

Twig 6.5

[Draft] Saved on: Thu 22/03/2018 12:03This message hasn't been sent.

"The man driving the carriage was Mr. Percy," Mary said. "Not exactly him, the hair was a little different, but I recognized him."

"Appearances can be easily changed," Hayle mused. "If anyone would recognize him, it would be you."

"Yes, professor," Mary said.

The Lambs were assembled in Hayle's office. We were lined up in front of his desk, while the old man sat, arms folded in front of him. His hair was shorter than it usually was, more neat, and his lab coat was immaculate, without wrinkle or speck.

Solid opening. Neat. Hayle is getting dressed up because Duke. The lambs discuss that Mary's creator is the villain of this arc. This will lead to character drama.

They also meet an absolute nightmare of a nobleman with a whimper problem. The Duke. The Duke is a jerk that annoys me for a reason that sounds ultimately immature. Rargh but I thought "The scientists have all the real power". Rargh, how do the nobles actually get to be in charge instead of whoever is the most evil scientist. Don't care. I've got Girl Genius for that and its hammy. Its as hammy as it would be. I could go looking for a book where the sccientists are in charge and immoral if I wanted to. There's a bloody joke to be made about how religion has become a poor person thing and the ultimate "God given right" of monarchy is now some cold and emotionless position but complaining is dumb, because the Crown and Academies are an allegory for industrialised Britain, and therefore there's a need for the upper class. The Dorian Grays, Lord Melchetts, and... I don't know any other evil aristocratic types off the top of my head.

The Duke is Evil. Manipulative. And has a load of really silly upgrades and modifications like being able to shout louder. The Twigs all are basically made subservient as soon as he enters the room, which is proof that any scientist could do the same thing to them. This must be like, the most guarded of easily discovered of secrets. I can see this thing backfiring as someone exploits it, some Twig pretending to be enthralled but not actually being, someone killing a noble by swappng their

Then they all go off to get fixed up. And reminisce about their histories.

End Quote!

"I remember," Jamie said, behind me, "Back in the day, I'd find you sleeping on the floor in here."

I smiled.

"Do you remember? I sometimes lose track of how far back other people's memories normally reach."

"I wouldn't forget," I said, still smiling. "That tree was dead, back then."

"Yeah. It was sad, but it wasn't…" he said.

He didn't finish the sentence.

Wasn't a bad thing?

A minute passed. I managed to turn away to go. I reached out for Jamie's hand before I realized I was doing it, and he took my hand in his, book tucked under his other arm.

"See you, little brother," I said.

Why on earth do I keep going with the ridiculous "Twigs are evil" thing that I do, when I've written fic humanising the Slaughterhousealot? Well, I say humanising... they kinda just do the exact same stuff while being funny. Ok. From here on out, we're calling an end to the inhuman twigs are abominations thing. Except when its funny.

KEY QUOTES!

"Hm!" the Duke made that noise again. It was probably a tic, or he didn't realize he was doing it. Or maybe he didn't care. "He's made noises about wanting to dine with me. I had a glimpse of him and I soured on the idea. But seeing the work he does… hm!"

SKEKSIS! The aristocracy are bloody Skeksis! Skekses?

Really, all I needed were regular doses of the Wyvern formula.

Wyvern comes in a little glass vial. A little glass vial?

"Oh. I don't want her for that," the Duke said, cavalier. His hand cupped Helen's face as he stepped past her, his arm extended behind him, as if to keep hold of a prize he wasn't about to release. He was moving closer to Hayle, as if challenging. His tone was jovial, "But just in case, my doctors here will remove the danger and render her harmless. Knowing what I do about Professor Ibott, he'll assist in the process, to curry favor."

This is why the aristocracy shouldn't be in charge. Hmm. You know, I wonder if a few scientists ever just killed one on the operating table. Cut their brain out and stuck one of their mates in. The Crown has authority but the Academies can just... I dunno. I guess that's why half the stuff we see is giant monsters and catacondas. Its only the most immature rebel scientists that we see.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 22, 2018

Twig 6.6

[Draft] Saved on: Thu 22/03/2018 12:36This message hasn't been sent.

"Gordon's taking his time," Jamie remarked. "He wasn't in his lab?"

"No," Mary said. One word answer. Preoccupied.

"Did you see him enter the lab?" I prodded her.

"Yes. He left before I finished with Doctor Edith. The doctors were gone too."

More than one or two words, this time, at least.

I frowned.

"Should we wait inside?" Lillian asked. "It's too hot."

"We stay here, where we agreed to meet him," I said.

She groaned, long and loud.

"Besides," I said, gesturing in the direction of the security team at the base of the building, "Do we really want to have them run their hands and tentacles and noses all over us? Twice, since we'd have to go in and come back out?"

I like them. They're like a biological version of that silly little robot from Brazil. Twig 6.6!

Fun chapter. Lads get together, gather up in a creepy academy courtyard full of growing monsters, meet up with Dog and Catcher. Catcher sounding like an Australian, dog seeming a cool monster. They walk into the city with some delightful banter. They make it into the city, and encounter the horde of creepy asian clones Percy made. They talk by whistling, move eerily. Just sort of generally creepy.

END QUOTES!

Percy was injured. He'd be patching himself up, if he wasn't already done, and as hurt people tended to do, he would be inclined to find shelter, return home.

The enemy wasn't the only wild card in this game, not fully understood as a group. Mary counted as one. Gordon counted as another.

Catcher leading the way, Mary at the rear corner of our triangle formation, Helen at the other corner, we ran, making a break for the weakest link, the critical target.

A leap of faith, then another, then another.

Rargh rargh hunt is on. Honestly, the title of this arc isn't really a hunting one. I'm pretty sure the endgoal is still gonna be something horrible the academy did. Then again, it's LAMB to the slaughter, not lambs. So... Tonight, A Lamb Dies?
Could just be Mary having to see what Perrcy does to people? I don't know.

KEY QUOTES!

There were a lot of temporary buildings set up in that vicinity. As Gordon approached with Dog and Catcher in tow, he had a backdrop of very large creations and tents that only barely covered the warbeasts and projects within. These were projects that had very high metabolisms. Started small, highly efficient, they devoured food to grow into hulking beasts that would need the big gate to exit the Academy. They were placed near the Rise for easy access to food, and it was very possible to see one in the morning, then see one at night, and see a noticeable difference in size.

I swear half of these key quotes aren't even the important things. Its just me noticing tech the academy has. Oh well.

He didn't tell her how to remove it, but she figured it out quickly. She removed pins and then unscrewed the head from the pole, letting the circle hang off her wrist while she adjusted positions. She handed it to Catcher, getting the new head in return and as she turned to do it, I saw the look on her face. There was a light in her eye.

She was having fun. This was her midwinter present. A new toy. A small challenge.

"Hm," she made a noise, as she got the new head on.

Shrug. I think Sy is reading too much into this.

And, though I was only able to see occasional glimpses of her face as I watched her, I could see her attitude shift. The glitter of pretty stabby torture things and the glamour of spiked mechanical confinement tools were only meager bandages for a bigger wound.

Nevermind.

"The Duke was giving the orders?" Jamie asked. "Assigning you your missions?"

"He was."

"Have you met him?" Lillian asked.

"No. But there was a dialogue. He gave us tasks. We accomplished them. We would get one or two days to breathe or heal, then he would give us another set of tasks. A lot was said, in terms of expectations and results. I walked away thinking he knows what we're comfortable doing better than the team that created us," Catcher said. He turned to Mary, "You like it?"

GARTHIM! Yeah. This is notable. Direct contrast to how Sanguine's friends all turned traitor.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 24, 2018

We were surrounded with the net closing around us, and I was swiftly realizing that the so-called 'net' was made for this.

The women were entirely capable of staying out of sight as they closed the distance to us, and they chose not to. They revealed themselves, crossing a street, hopping down from one place to another, moving along rooftops, or stepping out of cover. Most were wearing black dresses, some had shoes, some didn't.

But each and every one was erratic. They didn't run headlong at us, but moved in diagonals or horizontally. They only revealed themselves when they were in a position to reverse direction and take cover, or take a step to the side and be out of reach. All of the instincts and habits and prediction that suggested where they should be were consistently, inevitably wrong. They would step out of sight and reappear a distance away, and I could never be sure if it was the same one, or a clone.

If this were any other work my first assumption would have been that this was just an illusion but hey, medical experiments.

The chapter begins with the Twigs chased by creepy bat women that the gang seem to be calling ghosts. Creepy Bat Women Echo Location Clones.

They get chased through a house.

They esccape the house, and pass some worldbuilding on their way out.

They wind up in an alleyway, after a clever ploy to disrupt them just sort of annoys them. AND WE END ON A CLIFFHANGER! WOAH NELLY SERIAL FICTION HOOOOOOOOOOO!

End Quotes!

"I hope you've been watching Mary closely," was all I said.

He gave me a curt nod.

I could see Lillian trying to tend to Mary, Catcher trying to make her job as easy as possible while being on guard for an attack, and I couldn't pull my attention away from the scene to focus on the enemy. I couldn't think along multiple tracks. I felt stupid, at a time I needed all my wits about me, and I felt even stupider because of the incoherent, violent emotion mixed into it all.

"Nobody's dying today," I said. "Not like this."

They totally are.

KEY QUOTES!

But to create this many, to do work this good, it was beyond the capacity of the rebellion, as I understood it. The Snake Charmer, Percy, and all of the doctors working for the rebellion thus far had been people who'd been removed from the Academy. Less resources, less education, or less grounding. Some had been brilliant, but they'd been working with less.

Unless there was something I was missing, these women were on the level of a superweapon. On par with Dog and Catcher, or the Humors, or the Lambs, but modern, not years out of date.

That did mean they were less experienced.

Hmm. Theme of Twig. Feels like this is important. Twigs, their weakness, and their advantage.

"I can guess what the sign for the other direction is. Danger?"

Mary extended middle and index finger together, pointed in various directions. She then pointed it straight down. "Trap."

He did the gesture, but pointed straight up. "What's this, then?"

"Heads up. Alert," she said.

"You sat down and worked this out? A special language, for all of you?"

"No," I said. "It evolved naturally. We bullshit it half the time and trust the others to figure out what we mean."

The hand signals that have been in place since the start oof the book! Having them explained is clearly a signal that we now don't need to focus on them at all.

"Hm," Catcher observed. He gestured, emulating Helen, and Jamie pointed to words in turn. The man went on to say, "I'm not going to remember all of this."

See! Even Catch Her forgives us.

"He's not telepathic," Catcher said. He tightened his grip on his weapon, and his hand signal pointed the way to Dog. The line of four women was apparently intent on blocking our way to accessing Gordon and Dog. We'd have to pass between or under them.

Really? I mean, they can violate all sorts of laws of nature already. Why not.

The woman nonetheless drove her attack home. A length of pipe, sharp at one end. Her reach was longer, she was stronger, and Mary's attempt to fend off the attack proved futile. She twisted around, trying to sidestep the attack, holding out the knives to keep it at a distance from herself, and the woman only took a longer stride, then thrust down and through.

Mary.

Injury added to insult, for Mary to be struck down by one of her successors.

She'd always hated to lose, and to lose here, of all places?

The early arcs of Twig feel disjointed. They feel like reading a Five Friends or Hardy Boys novel where instead of the adventures being self contained, or getting fun little nods, they say stuff every now and again like "REMEMBER CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?" Its episodic, but also not episodic, and while its all character progression and such it feels like the beats have to be brought back up by Symon every so often to convey it to us. I like this story. I like Twig. I like it enough to have gotten Sheep to draw Sub-Rosa. But heck if it isn't a pain sometimes. I feel like it takes half an arc to get invested in an arc, and then suddenly "WHEE! Action! Arc!", and then I'm eager for the Enemy chapter, and then we start a new arc where the Lambs think they've found something out, then check it out, then they're wrong, they have to rethink everything... I would like this on its own. Or as self contained novellas. But when every arc is practically a novel in length and is its own novel, the novelty starts to wear off. Twig is one of Wildbow's character driven stories that actually seems to suffer the MOST for its fights. Some people complain at Pact for being unrelenting. Well, I'm taking a stand. Twig is relenting.

Indivisible · Mar 24, 2018

I think the earlier arcs of Twig read better if you read them when they were coming out, but they are a bit disjointed. The large time gaps between arcs were a reaction to the breakneck pace of Pact, where there was no downtime whatsoever.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 28, 2018

Twig 6.8

[Draft] Saved on: Mon 26/03/2018 12:37This message hasn't been sent.

They circled like vultures. I counted six in total that were in plain view. All with effective reflexes and spatial awareness. The screeching as we were circled was mine, however, a scrape of blade against glass, back and forth, a staccato nails-on-a-blackboard noise that made the little hairs on my arms and neck stand on end.

It was giving them pause, but I could read their body language now that I could track them consistently. They were building up confidence to attack. They'd seen one of their own die, and the noise of blade on glass was screwing with their senses. I imagined it was like being thrust from the bright world into darkness for the very first time.

Honestly, action openings are one of Bow's strong points.

Fight scene, with the Twigs in action and some rather fun murderous shenanigans. Sly cuts his hands trying to grab razor wire, Helen kills one with her hips, Catcher Catches one, and the rest get scared the heck off. Mary nearly dies, but Lillian fixes her after Sy insults her in "more proof Sy shouldn't get with anyone"

Dog and Catcher totally won this mission offscreen, killing Percy. BUT...

END QUOTE!

No," she said.

"Yeah," Gordon said. "I'm sorry."

It was an empty look, devoid of recognition.

"Best Dog and I can figure," Gordon said, "If you're going to run two or five or ten different matching projects all in different cities, you can't do it yourself. You need one clone to oversee the growth of the rest. And if you're going to go that far-"

Mary's knees gave out. She sank slowly to the ground, kneeling ten feet in front of Percy.

"You might as well clone yourself?" I asked.

Percy, Percival, Perry and Pippin, Proffessor Percival's Penguins, and Percy the prefect are all still out there.

Rain pattered down around us. I chanced a look at Mary and Lillian. Lillian was moving so frantically, and Mary wasn't moving at all.

"If you want to pick this fight, we will win," Catcher said. "And the next time, Helen there will have the leeway to draw it out, to make it hurt-"

"Yay."

I have mercifully spared you the actual and visceral description of Helen killing someone with her nightmare skeleton body, but this quote still conveys that she is the best character.

"Believe it or not, Sy, I'm only fourteen, and I haven't gotten around to actual surgery. And I'm in the field, too, without an operating room or all the tools. I'm thinking we should try transporting her to a clinic. If we can get Dog to carry her, I think I can keep her going long enough."

"Excuses," I told her, "and cowardice. Why go that route when you can be the surer thing? I think you're lying to yourself and to us, because you're scared."

"Of course I'm scared!" she said, her voice too high.

Mary's chest wasn't even rising and falling like normal, her breaths were so shallow. Lillian stabbed Mary in the chest with a needle, depressing it.

Lil's voice returned to a more normal level, "I'm being realistic."

Mary's breathing picked up as the injection took hold, though it still wasn't great.

"You're being a wuss. You know what Gordon keeps telling me?" I asked her. "Every time I lose a fight, which I do a lot? You have to make a move, or the world will move against you. Take action, be brave, and leave no doubt that you exist. There's too many people for any of us to fall into the background. Above all, trust your instincts, because you're better than you think. You are better than you think, Lil, and I'm saying that as the person who was your biggest critic, back in the day."

Her smile was a grim one.

I continued, "You've started fixing her up, you've patched up the holes, best I can figure it out, now stop making excuses and get to work, you wuss. She's supposed to be your best friend."

"If you're implying-"

"I'm implying!" I raised my voice. "If you wimp out on this and you let Mary die, then I'm going to forgive you… eventually. We all are. Crap happens! But you? I know people and I know you, and I know that your fears drive and define you. If you give up here, you will never find your way back from it to become a proper doctor, and you are never, ever, ever going to forgive yourself for it."

Every time I think I'm being unfair on Sy, he does something like this.

A good forty minutes passed. I watched Lillian more than I watched Mary, because the tension in her neck and shoulders was a better indicator than the bloody mess that Lillian was digging through. Jamie's handkerchief, previously used to wipe up Lillian's tears, was now being used to swipe out the blood in the way. Lillian's hands were inside the wound as she worked blind, periodically asking Jamie for numbers, which he rattled off.

Surgery is more advanced here too.

*I learned to be true to myself, by watching myself die.*

fabledFreeboota · Mar 28, 2018

Twig 6.9

[Draft] Saved on: Tue 27/03/2018 12:06This message hasn't been sent.

Dog had positioned himself so his body was between the small children Gordon had rescued and the worst of the gore and death. Not that it mattered. They were unconscious, by the look of things. Helen had a spring in her step as she approached them.

She would do fine as a babysitter, watching over them in case they roused. It was good that she had something to do while we mulled this over.

Good Dog. Best friend. Good Helen. Best snake.

Let's see. Percy mark 2 is part of a cunning plan to clone Percy's, that create labs, that clone GHOST LADIES, then clone a Percy to watch Percy, and then go off to create more Percy's and labs. Thankfully, Mary points out that that's not how exponential growth works.

After rescuing a few kids from the lab so that they can be dealt with by the PROPER AUTHORITIES for vivisection, the Lambsbridge Orphans/ The Radham Raggamuffyns / Sly's Scary Bunch of Precocious Young Murderhappy Experiments and their friend Lillian head home.

Oh, and Gordon's suffering a heart attack, Mary's dying, Helen is gonna be the Duke's new toy, Lillian can't spit it out and Jamie's gay.

END QUOTES!

The Duke was waiting, with Ibott beside him.

I put it all out of my mind. I couldn't afford distractions.

I had to focus.

We had an errant little birdy within the Academy. Our mole, letting supplies into the hand of the enemy, taking a hand, partial or in full, of our communications, and co-opting those same communications to serve the enemy. It was galling.

I was legitimately spooked at the thought of what the Duke would be like if he was angry.

I let my gaze fall on Jamie before I hopped down to walk around the other side of the carriage.

You were supposed to be the one I didn't have to worry about, I thought.

A cliffhanger every episode. Don't worry Sy, the only thing wrong with your friend is the horrors wrought on his mind and body. Now man up. This is the only bloody Bow story where shipping the main cast is being encouraged.

KEY QUOTES!

Dead serious, Jamie continued, "But half the Lambs have figured out what Gordon didn't. Or maybe Gordon did figure it out and that's why he broke it off with Shipman. We can't expect any non-Lamb to really connect with us. I don't think it works. They can't keep up, they can't draw close enough. They don't understand. And with only six of us, it's a pretty narrow pool to pick from."

"Jamie, no," I said. "No."

He nodded. "I thought as much."

"I like girls. I am very sure I like girls."

"I know. I knew, before I even said any of this. But I thought I'd take the same advice I just gave Lillian. Thirdhand as it might be. I can hardly call her a scaredy cat if I'm keeping my own mouth shut."

He was being so cavalier about it.

I had a lump in my throat.

"They can fix that, you know," I said.

Jamie's smile was a sad one. "No need. I'm okay."

Thanks, Florida, for raising me to think that was an ok solution. Welp. I mean, that's the entire team bar Helen that's got the "True love deathmark" on their head. I;d say something banal like "I hope this goes somewhere," but I'm pretty sure it will considering Bow.

The Percy before us was a younger version. If I had to guess, features had developed differently. He didn't wear a lab coat, and his clothes were utilitarian – a shirt with buttons, left half-unbuttoned, and slacks. He was barefoot. Beating the heat as best as he could manage.

Clones always get the short end of the stick.

Indivisible · Mar 28, 2018

"They can fix that, you know," was such a gut punch. I really like Jamie as a character and as a person. He's definitely the most compassionate of the Lambs.

fabledFreeboota · Mar 28, 2018

Indivisible said:
"They can fix that, you know," was such a gut punch. I really like Jamie as a character and as a person. He's definitely the most compassionate of the Lambs.

It wasn't a bit pinch to me until I realised it hadnt registered as a gut punch, at which point I was appalled at myself. It doesn't help that this seems like the sort of setting where it s possible rather than just an easy way to kill Turings, a nd then I was bloody milling it over, and I feel horrible.

fabledFreeboota · Apr 1, 2018

Our approach as a group was somewhat staggered, as Lambs came in ones and twos to kneel before the Duke. Jamie first, then me a few seconds later, then Helen and Lillian as a pair, Gordon and Mary, with Gordon helping Mary ease down to her knees as he knelt himself. Dog didn't kneel, but there were anatomical issues there. He bowed his head instead.

"Stand," the Duke said.

We stood.

Dog not kneeling just makes me chuckle. Something wonderfully comical about it.

CHAPTER SUMMARY! IN THIS CHAPTER.... The Duke is driven more by results than angry ego, but still has a man dragged off into the depths of the labs to be murdered. Sy screws around with Ibott, banter is exchanged. They ultimately deduce the REAL villain of this arc. Someone that was talking to Percy Mark 2.

End Quotes

Of course there were more than two. The sensation was already more intense than the seven had been, back when Mary got stabbed.

I listened for the order that wouldn't come, in response to the chatter I couldn't hear. My heart sank.

He didn't order a retreat.

This had suddenly gotten a great deal more difficult.

We know the first card Avis is playing, now. All of their ghosts somehow found a way inside.

MORE GHOSTS! BOOOO!

Key Quotes

"If you want advice about your Jamie," Catcher said, "I'm the least qualified person to dispense it. Dog is better qualified, but I don't think we have enough time to translate."

He'd heard it all.

This is still a thing. This'll be fun with the rest of the arc.

"Hear me!" the Duke proclaimed, and his voice boomed down the length of the hall. Before he was even done speaking, people were dropping to their knees. "By order of the Crown, lay on the ground with your arms straight out above your head, and we will know you are no enemy of ours!"

It was as if an invisible wave was crashing into the crowd. There was no question, there was no hesitation. Every person in the crowded hall dropped, and many had already been in the process of kneeling or kneeling already.

Was that... including people that weren't experiments?

fabledFreeboota · Apr 4, 2018

The nature of our enemy forced us to change up our approach, given how 'stealthy' meant a very different thing when dealing with enemies who could suss out our locations by hearing them.

They had eyes, too, but I had no idea if they relied on those eyes to the same extent we did. It meant we had to pick and choose our positions carefully. We made our way up the stairs to the floor above, the relay serving its purpose well. With the four hallways below, people steadily evacuating under the Duke's watchful eye, I could at least hope that my back was covered. Lillian moved with her escort, and Jamie and I moved as a pair, five to ten paces behind Helen.

Spooky ghosts. They're gonna get slaughtered I wager I do.

Ra ra ra they smash the ghosts. While balancing every character arc. Gordon's out of hearts, Helen is killing as cruelly as she can, Jamie's gay, Sy's running out of drugs and desperate for a treatment, Lillian is the clever one with no real cost to her involvement with the academy.

End Quotes

The sound of glass shattering and the roar of flame below us suggested our retreat was being cut off.

I fought to keep my breathing under control, my thoughts in focus, and the sound didn't help in the slightest. The Duke was chuckling, and the chuckle became a laugh. He stood with flames within feet of him, arms spread, weapons in hand.

We didn't even matter. This fight, this scenario, it was all for him.

He's a madman! And we thought he was sensible and everything.

Key Quotes

We stopped halfway up a set of stairs covered in red carpet, the railings some special wood with a marble-like texture and gold-colored caps. I reached up to a picture; I was too short to reach it with my hand, but I could reach it with the point of my knife. I got the blade between the picture and the wall, twisted, and pried it off, with a slight crack. I poked the underside to lift it up, and it came free of the wall. I caught it. Some Professor's painted portrait. He looked like a smug twat.

Hah. You wacky kid you, Sy. Also I just wanted to have this bannister description. I love the descriptions of the Academy's stuff.

"Seems like you've still got a little Wyvern formula in you," Jamie murmured.

"There's enough, I hope," I said. I was still far from baseline. I was glad I wasn't on the same level as a boy my age without any of the drug's effects. I'd only been there once, and it had been much, much worse. I still had the skills I'd picked up. My personality was still mine. My analytical way of thinking hadn't changed, even if the edge was gone and the focus wasn't all there.

But I wasn't wholly there either. There was fog, blurriness around the edges of thoughts if I didn't commit to them, and there was sloppiness. I was legitimately worried that I would try something and I would find I didn't have the ability.

This is your Sy on Drugs.

Helen lay on top of the ghost. As the ghost tried to sit up, Helen slid up, forehead coming down, ass going up, standing on the woman's pelvis on tiptoes so the entirety of her body weight was pressing down on the woman's head. Her hands slapped out, grabbing for the woman's wrists. She brought her head up, and slowly but surely, she brought the woman's arms across her chest, until the arms formed an 'x', breasts squished together between them.

Another shift of grip, reversing her hold on the ghost's wrists, and the arms were now being strained, the hard end of one elbow pressing against the hard end of the other, both straining the wrong way. The woman bucked and tried to throw herself to one side to hurl Helen off, but Helen's feet went out, bracing on the floor to either side.

As bone and cartilage audibly cracked, Helen let the destroyed arm fall, grabbing the other in two hands. One twist and maneuver, and she twisted the shoulder from the socket. The woman reacted, twisting and struggling to pull away, and Helen brought the dislocated arm up and around, strangling the woman with her own arm, while the arm with the broken elbow flopped ineffectually.

ARGH.

I've Got a Twig (Twig Let's Read)

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.

Sometimes frustrated.