Podcasts about Gaping

In this episode of the Nursing Australia podcast, we aren't shying away from the TABOO as we investigate Australia's herpes stigma and dive headfirst into the subject of death and dying, as we navigate palliative care. Plus, in the latest healthcare news: gaping health gaps, midwives jump ship, and mid-life binging. This episode is brought to you by RACGP HEALTHY HABITS  The latest Nursing Australia News (02:39): Gaping health gaps, midwives jump ship, and mid-life binging. The Herpes Stigma (05:32): Deep dive into the herpes stigma, let's normalize the conversation. Nursing Australia welcome's RN Jess Tully to the team. 'Navigating Palliative Care (13:30): Talking death & dying and navigating palliative care. What is it? How do we interpret it? Are we hesitant?   Handy Links:  RACGP HEALTHY HABITS  Use coupon APNA2024 to save on professional education with HEALTHCERT  MEDCAST education for Nurses    Join APNA today     Subscribe to The Connect (our weekly newsletter)  Click here to get in touch with Nursing Australia (send a text for free from anywhere in the world) #askusanything Hosted by: Matthew St Ledger, Mitch Wall & Katherine Fullagar Produced by: Leith Alexander & Matthew St Ledger

Trump threatens military crackdown on the “enemy within” / Conspiracy of silence shrouds Biden's Ukraine summit in Berlin as NATO holds nuclear exercises / Gaping holes in banking regulatory system

Thanks for listening! You can find us at various places.Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/thehobbledgoblinWebsite: https://thehobbledgoblin.com/thg-podcastFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/thehobbledgoblinInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/hobbled_goblin/?hl=enX formerly know as Twitter: https://twitter.com/Hobbled_GoblinTwitch: https://www.twitch.tv/thehobbledgoblinBecome a member of the Goblin Horde on Discord: https://discord.gg/SrYudSFOur logo was created by the talented Tassiji Stamp: https://tassji_s.artstation.com/?fbclid=IwAR05hAwWjkzRyXwA6pvyshksystohtOhw0jt5dZ6ln5KTGc5y-F7nvpwRJUMusic has been used with permission by Adrian von Ziegler: https://www.youtube.com/user/AdrianvonZiegler?app=desktop

The Snobs along with Mike and Dan of Sporadically Board discuss:  (00:00:00) Intro  (00:03:48) Prime (00:04:19) Jerry loves Jake Paul (00:06:01) Jerry meets Dan for the first time IRL (00:14:50) does Gaby draw out the bully in Jerry (00:15:32) Jerry ranks the Dice Tower alum upon meeting them (00:18:15) why is Mike aggressive in Zoo Vadis (00:24:17) the food situation at Dice Tower Retreat (00:36:00) the upside and downside to the Dice Tower Retreat (00:43:10) not getting excited for things anymore (00:52:09) I Made You a Mixtape - a review (01:13:30) Jerry starts a cult with Chris Yi Check out the I Made You a Mixtape Kickstarter launch page here-https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/cabbagedan/i-made-you-a-mixtape  Our Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bgsnobs Follow/join us at: Board Game Snobs Discord https://www.instagram.com/boardgamesnobs/ Board Game Snobs Facebook Group For merch: https://sirmeeple.com/collections/board-game-snobs For questions, comments or general adulation: Send emails to boardgamesnobs@gmail.com

Six games in, five defeats as United lose again despite an initial rousing comeback - how do the Blues get out of this rut as the new management team announcement appears imminent?In this episode of the Brunton Bugle, we discuss the 3-2 loss to Fleetwood Town - plenty of topics covered including:

Buy a Home, They Say: America's gaping shortage of affordable housing has rocketed to the top of voter worry lists and to the forefront of campaign promises, as both the Democratic nominee, Kamala Harris, and the Republican candidate, Donald J. Trump, promise to fix the problem if they are elected. American Don Quixote: To dream, the American dream.... Is foolish.  You can't have it.  Time to lower the bar. Debt Crisis: More credit cardholders are carrying over credit card debt from month to month, a Bankrate survey finds. Higher prices and higher interest rates have led to more consumers accumulating debt. Phantom Millionaires: A surge in the stock market ushered a record number of retirement investors into the millionaire's club.The number of 401(k) accounts with $1 million or more increased 31 percent, to 497,000 in the second quarter compared with the same period a year earlier, according to Fidelity Investments, one of the largest administrators of workplace retirement plans. The number of IRA millionaires hit a record 398,594, up 14 percent.

Episode 633: A compunction for conjunctions! The shooter's gun is revealed. Learning about tracers. It's election season and we are filled with joy. Hyphens solve all problems. A factory for cheesecake. Gaping cloacas. Why does corn have ears? Puke is given a rabbit. The Pittsburgh wedding cookie table. Childhood ruined by apricot.

Volgens die Afrika-ontwikkelingsbank se 2024-landfokusverslag, beperk Namibië se hoër-middel-inkomstestatus sy toegang tot eksterne finansiering, aangesien dit nie in aanmerking kom vir konsessiehulpbronne nie. Hierdie beperking beïnvloed die land se vermoë om toegang tot aansienlike befondsing vir ontwikkeling te verkry. Namibië is egter die tweede mees-ongelyke land ter wêreld na Suid-Afrika. Kosmos 94.1 Nuus het met die plaaslike ekonoom Gabriel Erastus gesels oor die feit dat die land as 'n hoër-middelinkomste-land geklassifiseer is, maar die meeste van die bevolking is arm. Hy sê die gaping sal vergroot.

Jon and Kyle slither into discourse with a discussion on very big snakes and very gothic theology! Discuss your favorite types of slime with Horror Vanguard at: www.instagram.com/horrorvanguard/ You can support the show for less than the cost of losing the hot rod race with your fellow greasers at www.patreon.com/horrorvanguard

In this hour, Adam Crowley and Dorin Dickerson address one of the Steelers' biggest needs going into camp. Also, are fans becoming too crazy? And why would Crowley be mad if Paul Skenes won the Cy Young? July 11, 2024, 9:00 Hour

The complex and hazardous situation occurred on Integram Drive as a gaping hole came along the side of the road, measuring about 20 feet wide and 10 feet deep. One lane of the road is currently closed.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Alaska and Willam celebrate 250 episodes of Hot Goss this week as they discuss Pride gigs, Color Theory, and Tiny Desk concerts. Plus a little chat about the pope and the Vatican and what he might like to order at an Olive Garden. And of course those DM's never disappoint! Listen to Race Chaser Ad-Free on MOM Plus Follow us on IG at @racechaserpod and click the link in bio for a list of organizations you can donate to in support of Black Lives Matter Rainbow Spotlight: Enough by Sapphira Crystál FOLLOW ALASKA https://twitter.com/Alaska5000 https://www.instagram.com/theonlyalaska5000 https://www.facebook.com/AlaskaThunder https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9vnKqhNky1BcWqXbDs0NAQ FOLLOW WILLAM https://twitter.com/willam https://www.instagram.com/willam https://www.facebook.com/willam https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCrO9hj5VqGJufBlVJy-8D1g RACE CHASER IS A FOREVER DOG PODCAST Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In today's 15-min update...  - A mysterious SPACE HOLE can shelter astronauts on Mars, but only if they buy it dinner first!  - This baby name is going viral for all the wrong reasons...  - Finding the OLDEST bra in Windsor-Essex and more!

In light of Illinois attempting to change the language of what a "criminal" is or is not, Annie takes on the language war, which is parallel to the culture war.  

we try something new, but it's the same. www.homebrewdetritus.com #starfinder #ttrpg Spotify playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5nqiVOPh5nsO6OJger0cOH?si=1c0de18659034ce8 YouTube playlist https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLAkZ3669R85l6C-h9tmYiSAX0lJyHGNFK jeff book https://drive.google.com/file/d/1cjxE5Rjf7FBFDKxFq7E1Q2t1Glcy8jMP/view

Skylar and Hanna sit down with the very funny Ali Macofsky and discuss sobriety, crushes, saving dick pics and cumming (or lack there of). What is dendrophilia? Find out this week on Goofy Cunt Nation. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

An open face sandwich is a pizza.  Showbiz vs Chuck E Cheese.  That pill sounds useless.  See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Ladders are meant to be climbed. -------- Thank you for listening! Your support of Joni and Friends helps make this show possible.     Joni and Friends envisions a world where every person with a disability finds hope, dignity, and their place in the body of Christ. Become part of the global movement today at www.joniandfriends.org   Find more encouragement on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and YouTube.

Thank you for downloading the most GAPING episode of Fartmouth ever recorded!JOIN THE DISCORD: https://discord.gg/EQ3BWYT3hvThis week's show features...Would You Rather: EXTREME!Thyler's Top 10 List!Support the Show.

Liv is joined by Cosi Carnegie to talk all things horny (boob cups! the threat of a sexual woman! all the erotic pottery you can imagine!) Follow Cosi on Instagram; read more from her; and learn more about Propylaea Productions! Help keep LTAMB going by subscribing to Liv's Patreon for bonus content! CW/TW: far too many Greek myths involve assault. Given it's fiction, and typically involves gods and/or monsters, I'm not as deferential as I would be were I referencing the real thing. Attributions and licensing information for music used in the podcast can be found here: mythsbaby.com/sources-attributions.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Leadership Is the Big Gaping Hole In the Agile Manifesto From time to time, people will declare Agile dead. On December 1st, Cliff Berg declared Agile dead in a viral post on LinkedIn. Personally, I think declaring a tool like Agile dead because it doesn't work is like declaring a pencil dead because it doesn't turn us all into Michelangelos. A tool enhances human capabilities. A tool is only as powerful as the people using it. But declaring things dead can be a good way to see what is wrong with it, maybe redesign it. In his post, Cliff stated that “Agile is dead … but companies still need agility.” Agile is dead, long live agility. How to connect with AgileDad: - [website] https://www.agiledad.com/ - [instagram] https://www.instagram.com/agile_coach/ - [facebook] https://www.facebook.com/RealAgileDad/ - [Linkedin] https://www.linkedin.com/in/leehenson/

Washington DC politicians lecturing anyone on how to run any organization is beyond laughable yet they somehow get away with it. And Trump touts the vax - again. And his people apparently have no problem with that.

Follow us on Twitter@CExpansePodcastMatt: @rp_ggamerBen: @TheV0idManNatalia: Nat1Crit on discordBoston: hiddengrotto on discordThe  intro voiced by the amazing @the_gamer_pete     Music from #Uppbeat (free for Creators!):https://uppbeat.io/t/richard-bodgers/bingo-crazyLicense code: RNBWKQCWIANASYED

Maney can't believe LauRen didn't see what... on her way into work!?? Support the show: https://www.mrlshow.com/

Message from Ruben Alvarado on March 10, 2024

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A Bridge of AdversityA 5-part story By Blind_Justice & Loqui Sordida Ad Me. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.The sky was still dark when they dragged Unami from her hut. A plump midwife, purring quietly, carried her newborn, Kra'ar, away while the hunters herded her up the steep ascent to the ancient temple. Unami was too exhausted from giving birth, too tired to bite and claw, so she let them do as they pleased.Through the great hall they went, empty save for the fire pit in the center and the twisted columns trying to stem the weight of the temple’s crumbling roof, down into a chamber she had never seen before. A singular oil lamp provided scant illumination, barely enough to see the carvings adorning every inch of the walls. Gaping maws, unblinking eyes leveling accusing stares, and half-formed limbs danced along the frieze.She clutched her aching belly and lashed the hunters to either side of her with an imperious stare. “Kra'ar needs me,” she growled. “I must feed my son.”Stone doors on the opposite side of the room opened, the towering slates scratching along the floor with some reluctance. Three elders emerged, their grayed whiskers and blunt snouts hidden behind ornate golden masks, their heads bloated and deformed by feathered headdresses. Long, colorful robes had been wrought around their slumping shoulders and withered groins.“What do you want from me at this hour?” Unami barked, masking her fear with feigned rage. She bared her teeth, a challenge rising in her throat. Her growl echoed off the carved walls. Unami slapped the hunters’ claws away and stood alone, shaking like a defiant, storm-tossed reed.“Silence!” one of the elders barked. The mask he wore was the sharp-beaked Condor, keen eyes and mighty wings. “Do you not grasp the gravity of your situation, whelp?”“Who do you call a whelp, you decrepit fossil?” Unami snarled. “I have just delivered my firstborn! I have seen the jungle! I have-”“You have stolen our sacred treasure and given it to an outsider!” the second elder roared. His mask showed the Serpent, venomous fangs and crushing strength. “Once they realize what can be found here, they will come and demand more and more! First they will bring honeyed words and lies, then they will bring warriors and weapons!”“Ha!” Unami spat. “First they would have to cross the jungle. Don’t you teach that only the strong, only the hunters can brave the hostile wilderness? How many outsiders will perish on the journey? How many of them will be able to even lift a weapon if they even find us? How many will be able to stand against our fierce warriors?”“Insolent child,” the third elder hissed. He wore a skull, the guise of Death Inevitable. “Traditions and rules have a reason. Your reckless actions prove why not every member of the tribe can be a hunter. Strength has to be tempered by wisdom, fury tempered by mercy. Your brash disregard of the rules clearly shows you are nothing more than a foolish whelp still, unfit to walk among the adults!”“I have followed the rules. I came back to give the tribe another hunter. What else do you want from me?”“Kra'ar will be well-fed and taken care of,” Condor proclaimed. “But your penance has only just begun.”“Normally we would bind you in stones and drown you in the swamp, as befits a lowly thief,” Condor said.“But the volcano’s awakening has roused The Sleeper,” Serpent said. “Someone has to placate him. This is a task for a woman. You have been chosen as penance for your transgression.”“What? No. I will go into exile. I will return to Aelric! I want to see the frozen water come from the sky!” Unami howled.“I am afraid you won’t leave the temple, foolish, insolent child,” Death Inevitable whispered. “Giving birth to a hunter does not absolve your sins. It is your solemn duty to the tribe. But if you can placate The Sleeper, all will be forgiven.”“All will be forgiven,” the other two rumbled. Condor bowed his head and the hunters grasped her shivering arms.“Placate The Sleeper? I am no priestess!” Unami wailed. “What am I to do?”Death Inevitable crossed the chamber, reaching into the gaping maw of a hideous stone effigy. His paw depressed the sculpted tongue within and the floor opened before her like a ravenous maw.“Deliver her,” Serpent said, motioning for the pit. The air wafting from the orifice smelled wrong. Sweet and thick was the scent, causing her ravaged sex to weep in heat.The hunters first dragged, then shoved her forwards. Unami stumbled into the pit and fell. Like every member of the tribe she knew how to fall, even if her weakened body was slow and clumsy. Instead of breaking her legs, she curled up into a ball and dropped onto a slope of smooth stone. There were no holds, no purchase for her claws or scrabbling feet. Unami slid frantically into the lightless depths underneath the temple. Above her, the floor rumbled closed.The slope curled downward like the blasted serpent before delivering her into a lightless space that she judged huge by the sound of emptiness. The sweet stench was thicker here. Her teats ached and her sex seemed to overflow. Her breath threw shuddering echoes from the far walls.Blind like a newborn, Unami pawed on all fours, trying to earn a feel for this space. The floor was made from stone, large, regular tiles neatly fitted. The tip of her tail still touched the slope and there was no wall in easy reach. She took another step. Her paw landed on a bone. Unami gritted her teeth. She would not grant the elders the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She pulled the bone closer. It was long and stout. It would make a fine club.There was a soft noise ahead, a shy rustling.A grim smile stole onto Unami’s lips. If there were animals down here, they would probably be as blind as she was and easily hunted. At least she wouldn’t starve.“Come, come, little ratty,” Unami sang. “Mother has need of you.”The rustling came again, closer now. Using her sensitive ears, Unami aimed and swung the bone with murderous intent.There was swift movement, a powerful whiff of that sticky, sweet air. The cudgel hit the floor with crushing force and splintered into a thousand pieces like a hollowed twig.More rustling. Four, five sounds of movement at once. Unami bared her claws and teeth. How many rats were there?Something long and serpentine curled around her leg. It was soft and wet and moved with shocking speed, coiling around her calf and knee.Then came a jolt and she was unceremoniously dropped on her back. All Unami could do was to protect her head by twisting her spine and curling up as best she could. The impact cracked a few ribs and her elbows.Gasping in the thick, clingy vapors, she slapped at the soft, writhing tissue grasping her leg. Another tendril came, slick and wet and it curled around her other leg. With inexorable force, they pried her thighs apart. Shrieking, Unami clamped both hands over her gaping sex - to no avail. Another tendril came, binding her wrists and yanking her hands aside with contemptuous ease.She wasn’t sure if the fall had rocked her head or if she really heard it, but there was a low, growling noise. It grew louder and louder, mounting in front of her. She couldn’t see! She could only hear the noise, writhe as the tendrils slithered over her. No, not over, but into her! One, then two invaded her, probing at her ravaged insides.The gurgling stopped on a strange note. For one breathless moment Unami thought to hear a wordless question. The disgusting tendrils withdrew from her insides, leaving her spread open and shivering in the chamber’s rank air.Then the noise returned, loud and angry and so very close.A mighty weight settled onto her helpless body, covering her feet, legs, belly, chest and finally her snout. She sank her teeth into soft, warm tissue, tearing long, weeping gashes into malleable flesh. The noise changed as hitherto closed orifices gaped, adding a horrific wheezing to the cacophony.Unami added her own incoherent screams as acid poured from numerous maws, burning her limbs, dissolving her helpless body until nothing remained but a sweet-smelling puddle of goo.The Sleeper lapped at it, a satisfied purr echoing off the walls.Shala’s patience grew thin. What hope of finding Kelgore had she if these fools that carried her fell victim to some easily avoided calamity and left her stranded in this gods-forsaken wilderness?She had tumbled from the whore’s back as the claws of a dead man seized the crude pack full of carrion and tore it away. She could not see how her captors fared against the undead horde until the fop had knocked her aside to hastily gather the scattered meat and supplies.The buffoon’s man and the traitor both fell to the horde of corpses that had dragged themselves from the haunted swamp. Shala feared for a moment that all of her captors might perish and leave her stranded in the mud. But the whore fought bravely and well. With axe and sword she hacked a path through the grasping hands of the hungry dead. The fop followed in her wake and the buffoon held a lackluster rearguard.Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and plucked her out of the muck by her hair. The leather strap that secured her gag shifted, but only slightly.It would have been so easy to turn back the horde with just the right words of power and a bit of fire and flesh. But it would require hands that Shala did not yet have.She watched as the buffoon’s sword lodged in the ribs of a flanking corpse and the thing reached for him with rotting hands. She tried to scream in furious protest as the impudent fool swung her like a flail, slamming her skull against the head of the accursed ghoul. Through some intervention of the fate spinners, the impact knocked her gag askew.Working her tongue and jaw, Shala was finally able to spit out the shard of wood and let the leather strap fall away, just as the buffoon tucked her up under his arm.Shala nearly cried out at the insolence, but then she caught a tantalizing whiff of blood. There was a gash on the buffoon’s arm. The blood coagulated against her cheek, but her tongue could not reach. She was jostled in his grip as the buffoon ran limping after his companions, stumbling and fumbling blindly through the jungle boscage. Bit by bit she shifted until she could press her thin lips right to the wound, and taste the ferric tang on her tongue.“You can stop now,” Shala called out, once she had lapped her fill of the buffoon’s essence. “Do you hear me? You’ve fled beyond the reach of the dead.”“And why should we believe you?” asked the whore, panting. Before Shala could answer, the whore added “Joras, find another gag.”“Because if you die then I am abandoned out here. Do you think this is how I wish to end my existence? Lying in the muck, helpless as the scavengers pick at my flesh until nothing is left? My only chance at life is if you reunite me with my son. While you may well choose to slay me once my usefulness is done, I’ll take a slim chance over no chance at all, and help you where I can.”The fop scoffed. “And what help can a disembodied witch offer?”“While you dithered at a crossroads, I felt the jungle life fade away before the great predator that stalked you. And you ignored my warnings,” Shala spat.“I alone recognized the rancid scent of death tinged with the ozone of magic and knew the undead were nearby. But again you ignored me and two of your number paid for your negligence with their lives. How many more will die because a reckless whore refuses to heed my counsel?”“Your point is made,” the whore growled. “There is no need for more insults.”“Oh, do my words hurt your poor little pride? Perhaps you’d feel better if you were gagged and hauled around like chattel.” The whore glowered at her, but did not retort. “I have eyes to see and senses attuned to powers from beyond the veil. Give me a mouth to speak and heed my counsel and your chances of living to find Kelgore will improve! You’ve lost two pairs of eyes already. Are you so foolish as to throw away a third?”“I don’t trust it or its counsel,” the whore said. Being referred to so coarsely would have raised the bile in Shala’s throat, if she had bile, or more than an inch of throat. She let the insult pass.“Neither do I,” agreed the buffoon. “But I have known many men I did not trust, and I have never known it to be a lie when a man says ‘I want to live’.”“Our resources are few enough,” the fop agreed. “I don’t think we’d be any worse off if she betrays us.”“Fine,” agreed the whore through gritted teeth. “But if you lead us into danger, I shall smash you with a rock before I die. Understood?”“Agreed." Shala swallowed her pride."Unless our new advisor knows of a safer camp, I think we should get some rest,” the whore decided. “Joras, skin our dinner. Ambrose, see if you can spark a fire. I’ll gather you some wood. Shala…” she paused as if it pained her to speak the words. “You’re on watch.”In the distance, from every direction, the drums continued.In the chamber above The Sleeper’s lair, Condor sighed. “One malnourished whelp won’t do, you know?”Death Inevitable touched his golden forehead. “The Sleeper is mightily displeased indeed. Unami was but a morsel for it.”“At least his hunger will be sated for the moment,” Serpent muttered. “We might find a bit of respite tonight.”Together, the elders returned to the great hall. The rumble of the drums was loud and clear, reverberating from the walls.Condor cocked his head. “A hunting party returns. They have brought an outsider.”“Fortunate tidings indeed,” Serpent said, a smile in his voice. “The Sleeper might feast again shortly.”“Let us see what the hunters have brought then,” Death Inevitable purred. “Hopefully this new sacrifice will send The Sleeper back to sleep. I dread the day when the temple and the offerings can’t contain its might no longer. The Sleeper might devour reality itself.”“If it is an outsider woman, we should avail ourselves of her services before tossing her into the Pit,” Condor said. “To make sure The Sleeper will be properly serviced, of course.”Chuckling softly, the elders headed for the exit, eager to meet their next sacrifice.As dawn broke, they strode into the village. Hunters prepared for another expedition into the jungle, sharpening their spears or wrapping rations. Passing females, their young scurrying between their feet, offered bows of respect. The midwife clutched Unami’s newborn to her bosom, allowing the pale blond whelp to suck at her teat.“Let’s hope the outsider was strong,” Death Inevitable muttered. “His offspring looks disgusting, so pale.”“We will see in a few years’ time,” Serpent said. “Ah, there they are.” He gestured towards a tangle of tribesmen, clustered around the hunting party. Adults and whelps alike muttered among themselves.“As if they’ve seen an outsider for the first time,” Death Inevitable murmured. “How different can they be?”The knot of tribesmen split, allowing the elders their first glance at the outsider. He stood unbound, surrounded by three hunters who gazed upon him in open admiration. The fourth, a female, had her tail raised high, the scent of her cunt announcing to all downwind how desperate in need of a thorough railing she was. The outsider was odd. Too scrawny to be a warrior, he nonetheless bore himself with the stance of a chieftain. What little fur he wore on his head was long, slick and the color of night. But most odd were his eyes, featureless black orbs of night. He raised his voice, speaking the strange words of the outsiders. None understood the strange syllables he used, but all felt the power radiating through his voice. It commanded their full attention. Transfixed, the elders, the tribesmen, the women and whelps watched, their gazes fixed on the strange man. Each one of them he bathed in his obsidian gaze and one by one they became his unquestioning servants. Not even the Sleeper could help them now.“Stop it!” Ambrose screamed into the night. “Stop the fucking drumming all day and all fucking night. Just fucking stop it!”The distant drum beat continued unabated by the outburst. The sonorous rhythm had followed them from the beach, through the jungle, surrounding them, moving with them like the stench of a beggar. They had tried more than once to follow the sound and find one of the natives, but always the drum they approached fell silent and a distant drum joined the chorus.“What do you want?!” Ambrose continued, stalking from one edge of their campfire light to the other, yelling into the darkness at the top of his voice. “Do you want us to go? Do you want us to follow? We don’t know what the drums mean! We use words! Do you hear me? Words! Show yourselves and tell us what you want! Kill us or capture us if you must, but for the love of all that is holy, stop the gods-damned drumming!”His injured foot throbbed. His whole body ached. Nicks and cuts and lacerations bedeviled his face and arms after being thrashed through the underbrush by that slavering beast. The midges and mites of the swamp had fed on him mercilessly and if it hadn’t been for Tsonia and Joras, the shambling dead would have finished him, just as they had poor Montu and Sethos. Ambrose was a man of the sea. The perils of this mad and alien landscape perturbed his senses and flustered his wits.“It’s not even good drumming, damn it!” Ambrose saw Tsonia and Joras scowling in the firelight at his agitated pacing. He didn’t know if his ranting had awakened them, or if they like he had laid awake, unable to sleep with the constant racket. “A poxy toddler banging on his mother’s pot with a spoon can come up with a more inventive rhythm! But not you lot, no! Your primitive fucking brains can’t come up with anything more original than just bum bum bum over and over and over again and again and again!”He grabbed up a heavy stick from their dwindling pile of firewood and banged it back and forth in a forked tree trunk, bang, bang, bang, in time to the distant drums’ cadence.“You hear that? Huh? How do you like it? How about if I keep it up all fucking night so you can’t sleep?”“Peace, Ambrose,” Joras implored, rising to soothe his friend’s discomfiture. “This raving does no good and it wastes the vitality you’ll want for tomorrow.”“I don’t care!” Ambrose screamed, and continued to beat the tree trunk. “I don’t fucking care anymore. I want them to stop or to show themselves or to attack us or something! Anything! Anything but this infernal drumming! It makes me wish I had drowned, Joras! I would rather die with the sound of the sea in my ears than live another hour beset by this ceaseless racket.”“I know it’s trying,”“Trying!? It’s maddening! This whole damn place is maddening!” Ambrose’s arm gave out at last and he let fall the stave from his hand even as he collapsed to his knees with a sob of exasperation. “Why won’t you stop!?” he cried again into the darkness. "Why won’t you show yourselves!?“"You are loud,” grunted a coarse voice in the simple words of the Trade Tongue used among sailors. Into the firelight stepped a tall native, his mottled green fur broken in places by ancient scars. His hands, though tipped with razor sharp claws, were empty, and held out in a gesture of parley.Tsonia, lithe as a panther, came to her feet with blade in hand, ready to smite the intruder. The towering, beast-headed native dodged and came to face Tsonia, still empty-handed. A leather bandolier bisected his broad chest. Spears and a pack rested on his back while a woven cord around his waist was hung with pouches, a sling and dagger and a simple loincloth.“We will fight,” he growled. “First, I will make the drums quiet for your loud friend.”The fire-haired warrior stayed her blade, curious to see what the newcomer would do next. “Slow,” she told him, speaking the same pidgin trade language. “I am watching.”The native bared his fangs, his ears perking up. Tsonia wasn’t sure if he was threatening her or if that was the stranger’s idea of a grin. Slowly, he reached for the pack he had slung over his back and placed it on the ground in front of him.“Watch,” the stranger said, kneeling. He opened a flap and pulled a small drum from his pack, which he struck in a certain rhythm, bam, bam, rap. He repeated the cadence, then again. And around them, the drums echoed the new beat, and fell silent. In the distance, the sonorous rumble continued, but in their immediate vicinity, there was nothing but the wind rustling in the trees and the occasional chirp of surprised nighttime birds.“What did you, say?” Joras asked, intrigued. Next to him, Ambrose sighed. The exhausted sailor settled down with his back against a tree, and despite his curiosity his head fell onto his chest almost immediately.The native offered Joras the same strange visage, open jaws and hanging tongue. “I found what I want. I need quiet to, see, watch, find,” he seemed to be searching for a word.“Hunt?" Joras asked, backing away from the beastman."Yes. Hunt.” the stranger agreed. “They are quiet. They will listen.”“Hunt, eh?” Tsonia sneered. “Will you, make us sick with, small spears?” She held up a finger and thumb spaced about two inches apart to show how small the darts were. Tsonia also struggled to find appropriate words in a vocabulary meant for trade and barter, but she lowered neither her guard nor the sword.The stranger sank onto his haunches, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the campfire. “No small spears. I am proud. I do not hunt with small spears.”“Your people are not proud two yesterdays,” Tsonia growled. The Trade Tongue didn’t concern itself with such lofty concepts as the past or the future. It was a language for discussing the here and now. “They hunt me with small spears by the good water. They make me sick.”“My tribe who hunt are not smart two yesterdays. Many outsiders come to our beaches and cannot leave again over many moons. My tribe thinks you are weak and not smart, like the other outsiders.”So they were not the first sailors to be marooned on these shores, Tsonia realized. Clearly the native had learned the Trade Tongue from somewhere, so castaways must be fairly common. It did not bode well for them that none had ever returned to tell the story of this place.The stranger hissed several times in quick succession. Maybe a laugh?“You kill two of my tribe. They know they made a mistake so they choose to hunt easy outsiders.” His eyes roamed over Tsonia and she could hear his satisfied purr. “I hunt you.”Tsonia raised an eyebrow. “Me?”“Two of my tribe are dead. I want, the death price.”Tsonia sighed. He wanted revenge for the two natives she had killed. The stranger before her was no savage. He obviously had intelligence and honor, perhaps even wisdom. But she didn’t have the vocabulary to explain such a complex situation, much less negotiate a peaceful solution.“Joras, you’re better with words than I,” she said in their native Thelyrian. “Tell him I killed two of his kind while driven half mad by their poison in my veins. Ask him why he thinks he can beat me now when I have my wits fully about me.”There was a struggle over words as Joras and the stranger exchanged the terms they knew and agreed to what they meant. Tsonia was beginning to regret involving her friend in the conversation. As her patience grew thin, he seemed to be enjoying the give and take and the accomplishment of finally conveying the whole idea.Again, the stranger laughed. “I watch you yesterday and two yesterdays, fire-hair. I watch you fight. I watch you walk far. You are tired, so I offer a bargain.”“Kaela…” Joras implored in Thelyrian, his voice laden with dread. “Don’t do anything foolish, please.”“I haven’t agreed to anything just yet.” Tsonia snorted in exasperation. “Are you blaming me for our misery too?”“I would never-” Joras began.“Let him talk then,” Tsonia snapped. “And don’t call me Kaela in front of everyone!”The stranger placed his clawed hand upon his chest. “I am called T'pek.” His voice, although struggling with the Trade Tongue, had a formal, almost ritualistic tone about it.Tsonia bowed her head. “I am called Red Tsonia. What do you offer?”“I ask you to fight, Red Tsonia. You owe me two hunters.”“You-kill-me is not equal to two hunters. They will not live if I die,” Tsonia said. It was another hard concept to convey, but she’d be damned if she was going to let Joras spend all night trying to negotiate poetically. “I see, a fight for pride, is a waste. A waste for me. A waste for you.”T'pek bared his fangs again. “We will fight. If I win, you will be, my tribe.” T'pek immediately waved away that idea as if it wasn’t exactly what he meant to say. “Just my tribe,” he amended, thumping his own chest.“Mate?” offered Joras. It was a Vizangian word that had made it into the Trade Tongue and was used to refer to any woman a man had sex with, be she joined by holy ritual, or just a concubine, slave, or whore.“Yes!” T'pek agreed. "Mate. You will be my mate. We will make strong children. My tribe will get more than two hunters.“A laugh escaped Tsonia’s lips. "You are too proud, T'pek. You are too proud of your fighting skill and your fucking skill. What will I get if you lose?”“I do not insult you, but you are slow and loud. You walk like blind and deaf children. You see bad signs but you still go forward. You risk weak people.” T'pek nodded towards battered, blissfully snoring Ambrose. “I offer that I will lead you and be smart for you, And I will also give you children.” He caressed his loincloth.Tsonia laughed again, a full-bellied sound of unbridled mirth. “You are smart. If you lose, you still fuck me. Is that right?”“A good hunter is strong and smart,” T'pek said with that uncanny grin.“Your tribe, Where do they take 'easy’ outsiders?” Tsonia asked. “What do they do with him?”“My tribe take your outsiders to our village. The leaders decide outsiders’ fate.” T'pek shook his head.“How many outsiders go to your leaders?” Joras interjected. “What do they say to your leaders?”“Some want to trade. Some are held to work. Some breed. Some fight.”“The unlucky ones are tossed into the swamp,” Tsonia added darkly in Thelyrian. Her brow creased in thought. “If I win, you will lead us to your village. You will teach us about your tribe and the village.”“Yes." Said T'pek."If I lose, I will be your mate, right?”An eager nod set T'pek’s mane aflutter.“Will I stay here,” Tsonia indicated their campsite with a sweep of her hand, “until I make children?”“No,” T'pek said with emphasis. “You will be my mate in the village. My people will take care of you. I will protect you and love you.”“If I lose, will they stay here?” she asked, indicating Joras and Ambrose.“I will take them to the village,”“For our fate to be decided by some chieftain or shaman or council we have no knowledge of?” Joras interrupted in Thelyrian. He sought Tsonia’s gaze. A flicker of dread was clearly visible. “I have a bad feeling about this.”The fire-haired warrior rose to her feet and planted her sword into the ground. “We have a deal, T'pek. How will we settle our fight? I will not be your mate if I am dead. You will not lead us if you are dead.”“No,” T'pek agreed, undoing his cord and placing the dagger, sling and pouches atop his pack. “We will stop when one of us is not proud and says 'stop’. Your people will know the agreement.”“'Yield’ is the word you want,” Tsonia said, watching the beastman strip away his kit. “We will stop when you yield or I yield.”“Yield." T'pek nodded his agreement and unknotted his loincloth, letting his manhood hang free."I believe he means to distract me by waving his lance in my face,” Tsonia joked to Joras in Thelyrian.“Yes, well, it’s distracting me quite nicely,” he agreed.“You show weakness there,” Tsonia pointed to T'pek’s naked crotch. His face scrunched into a look that Tsonia interpreted as indignation and realized he had taken her warning as an insult to his masculinity. “No, no, no,” she waved in correction and sought a better word. “Soft? Um, bad fight place?”Comprehension dawned on T'pek’s face and he snorted. “I will have no burden. Nothing to grab. Children of my tribe learn to fight with nothing.” His grappling gesture put Tsonia in mind of the formalized wrestling that was taught in the Green Cities. "Only fur. Belts hold tools. Packs hold food and water. They are bad for fighting.“So these people fought their duels of honor naked. It wasn’t a totally foreign concept. There were stories of great heroes from ages past who also dueled in the nude. It certainly ensured that neither party carried any hidden weapons.Tsonia pulled off her tattered chain hauberk with a resigned sigh. "Why have clothes at all then?” she asked, gesturing to the discarded loincloth lying on the ground in the firelight.T'pek’s gaze roamed over her rosy skin like a lover’s caress. He barked with mirth. “Soft,” he said, gesturing to his groin. “Weak. Sharp plants and rocks and bugs are bad. But Red Tsonia is good. It is strong for Red Tsonia.”“You are too proud, T'pek,” she smirked.Tsonia’s chain skirt hit the ground with the soft rattling of metal on packed earth. She tossed her armor at Joras’ feet and began to circle the camp site, taking the muscular native’s measure as he fell into step opposite her. He was taller than her, with wider shoulders and longer arms. Some earlier fight had left his chest and shoulder marked with ghastly scars, the otherwise lustrous fur refused to fully grow back there. Her lips curled into a playful grin as her gaze wandered lower, over his fur-covered abdomen and towards his groin. The fur was almost black there, long and shaggy and nowhere enough to cover a prodigious member which proudly curved towards his navel. His oddly bent legs didn’t seem to hinder his movement one bit and his sinuously weaving tail allowed him to easily keep balance.“If you want the death price for your tribe, you will fight me,” Tsonia remarked. “If you just look at me and I just look at you, we will not fight all night.” A smile flickered across her lips. “Or would you like to just look at me?” She caressed one of her breasts.The next moment, T'pek was on her, effortlessly closing the distance in one ferocious leap. His bulk tore Tsonia off her feet and together they crashed to the ground. Strong hands closed around her arm, one above and below the elbow each and when the world stopped spinning, Tsonia was face down in the dirt, with T'pek’s clawed foot between her shoulder blades and her arm bent at a very uncomfortable angle.She had clearly underestimated her opponent’s speed and reach, but he didn’t know any of her true strength either. Tsonia bucked, hard, unbalancing T'pek. For a heartbeat, his grip on her arm waned and she rolled, tearing her arm free, not caring if his claws tore open her back or the arm creaked in its socket. The sharp jabs of pain, if anything, only fuelled her battle-lust.In the time it took T'pek to regain his balance, Tsonia came to her feet. She was upon him, a blur of fists and kicks as she employed every trick she had gleaned from the fist-fighters in the Xhastrian coliseums. T'pek blocked some of her blows, took others with merely a grunt of annoyance and countered others. If he pulled any punches, Tsonia didn’t notice.One blow hit her clavicle, cracking it with the sickening sound of bone on bone. T'pek grunted, shaking out his rattled fist. Tsonia dove in, landing a solid hit to his gut which sent T'pek stumbling backwards.“Lift me up higher,” she heard Shala jeer. “I can’t see a damn thing!”“Shush you,” Joras muttered. “Don’t make this any more awkward.”Shala’s gleeful cackling gave T'pek pause. His eyes widened in horror as he beheld the disembodied head, held aloft by a disgusted Joras. Tsonia pressed her advantage, following up her attack with a furious shoulder charge.T'pek’s tail slapped across her breasts, leaving a stinging line of fire across them. Tsonia, not even fazed by the attack, barreled into him with enough force to spill both of them to the ground again. She pinned T'pek’s arms to the ground with her knees, her forearm firmly lodged under his maw, pressing hard against his throat.“Yield,” Tsonia hissed, putting her weight onto her arm. T'pek’s maw hung open, his tongue lolling to one side, his eyes rolling madly in their sockets. Suddenly, there was a soft sensation writhing between her thighs, tickling her sex. Tsonia’s hand flashed downwards, closing around T'pek’s nimble tail. Her tight grip elicited a hoarse yelp from the prone beastkin. Too late she realized how much of an advantage she had squandered. T'pek growled, fighting against her weight into a sitting position. Tsonia evaded a vicious head-butt by rolling backwards.Gasping, she came to her feet. T'pek followed suit, albeit a bit slower.“You, are strong,” he gasped. “You are tired, from two yesterdays, but you are strong. How?”“It will take more than a primeval forest and some rotting dead to wear me down,” Tsonia snarled in Thelyrian, then added for T'pek “You are not weak, T'pek, but not strong like me. Do you yield?”“No,” the beastkin growled something else in his own language, shaking his head in defiance. “I will make you yield!” He raised his fists.“Many people try to make me yield,” she spat. “All have failed.”“I will be the first,” T'pek roared, pouncing again.This time, Tsonia was ready. As he came flying, jaws open, hands ready to grasp and wrestle, she intercepted him. One hand caught his wrist, just behind his splayed claw, the other dug into the thick fur by his loins. Her demonic blood roared as Tsonia redirected his momentum, sending T'pek crashing to the ground back first. Breath exploded from the stunned beastkin in a hollow bark. Tsonia didn’t wait for him to recover, instead she mounted his hips, trapping his throbbing lance between them and pinning his arms to the ground with brute strength.“Yield,” Tsonia gasped. His lance underneath her was already drenched and she had to force herself from grinding herself against its searing heat.“No,” T'pek growled, trying to raise his arms. He could have tried to uproot a tree with his gaze alone, the effect was much the same.“Yield, you oaf,” Tsonia snarled. In Thelyrian she added “I could break your bones like rotted driftwood if I so desired.”“I am proud. I will not,” T'pek gasped as Tsonia ground herself against him, a languid, lust-driven roll of her full hips.“But you are worthless to me as a cripple,” Tsonia purred, then in the simple Trade Tongue she said “If I yield and you yield, we both get what we really want.” She reached backwards, guiding his shaft. Her sex swallowed his tip eagerly. T'pek’s breath caught in his throat as she claimed the full length of his spear.Tsonia’s voracious appetite, never easy to sate, had grown tremendously during their weeks at sea without any privacy and no suitable lovers. She had pondered asking Ambrose for a rowing slave or three, but even she knew how much trouble that could cause in the volatile confines of a warship. Not even pleasuring herself was an option, not with dozens of eager men devouring her every move. Not that she minded an audience, but again, the discipline aboard and the hope of finding and apprehending Kelgore had been more important than her own pleasure. Now, with T'pek writhing under her, she could finally indulge! She pushed herself away from him, only to reclaim his monstrous pole in a slow, breath-stealing descent.T'pek’s growl was the only warning she got. Too late Tsonia realized that she had relinquished her death grip on his wrists, to play with her tits and finger her clit as she rode his massive shaft.“No!” the beastman snarled. His claws slid under her ass and he pushed her away.“No?” Tsonia gasped, coming to her knees.“My tribe do not fuck this way,” T'pek growled, towering over her, his glistening shaft pointing at her.Tsonia glared at him. “What-?” she began, but T'pek was on her again, forcing her onto hands and knees. Before Tsonia could even protest his rough handling, his teeth clamped onto her shoulder, his clawed hands carved furrows into her hips as he roughly adjusted her position.Tsonia relaxed, anticipating what would happen next. T'pek did not disappoint. His bulbous tip forced her rosy curtains apart and in one fell swoop, he buried his sword to the hilt in her, his hot breath and spittle pouring down her shoulder. Tsonia wailed as he pounded into her, but it was no cry of pain, the demonic cock of Q'alan had more than seasoned her nethers. If anything, T'pek’s proud lance was a potent reminder of what she had been missing ever since the God-King had tasked her with finding and killing Kelgore.“Yes,” Tsonia growled, pushing back her hips on his next thrust. T'pek grunted with the effort of keeping her pinned beneath him, his spear slashing deep into her hungry tunnel. His claws found her breast, roughly kneading her supple flesh. Another wail tore from her lips, once more she pushed back against him. Blissful release tore through her already and every thrust only heightened her delirious ecstasy.“More!” Tsonia howled, answering each of T'pek’s thrusts with a roll of her hips. His furry sack slapped against her with blistering abandon each time he bottomed out. Hot blood trickled down her shoulder, his teeth sunk deep into her flesh.Tsonia tossed back her head, jubilating at the pain, the pleasure tearing through her body. T'pek’s tail slapped her ass, the squirming appendage caressing the valley between her cheeks like a second phallus. His paw mauled her breasts, but she only spurred him on with wordless moans and grunts. Another climax tore through her.Tsonia reared up, heedless of T'pek’s considerable bulk, heedless of his teeth sunk into her shoulder. She needed all of his delicious cock, buried deep within her hungry cunt!T'pek suddenly opened his jaws, his shockingly large tongue lapping at the bloody gashes his teeth had dug. He whined in surprise as the black blood oozing from the wounds seared his tongue.Tsonia rode him like a woman possessed, driving herself onto his shaft for all she was worth. Their bodies made lewd, slapping and squishing sounds as they collided.Suddenly, T'pek slammed his hands upon her hips and pinned her in place, his breath coming in unnaturally quick gasps. And then he erupted, spewing burst after burst of hot, sticky seed into Tsonia, filling her up to bursting and then more, leaking from their union in thick rivulets, dripping down into the ravaged earth.For a moment, there was nothing but the sounds of rasping breath and the occasional drip of thick liquid spattering on the ground.Then Shala raised her voice. “I hope you had your fun, whore. Can we go find my son now?”Ambrose groaned as the light of the relentless morning sun attacked his eyes. He sat up and blinked, trying to dislodge the grit caking his eyelids. The drums, although not entirely gone, had at least quieted down and were more akin to the volcano’s distant rumblings than the oppressive, maddening drone which had almost broken him. Joras slept behind him, the artist’s arm a soothing weight on his waist. Ambrose pushed some of Joras’ locks from his angelic face and breathed a kiss of thanks onto his prickly cheek.“Good morning.” The voice was Shala’s, a mirthless, venomous rasp. Her head rested on a tree stump nearby. “Please don’t start another round of fornication. I was forced to behold entirely too much of it last night.” She made a disgusted sound. “Just look at them. Animals, truly." Her tongue came out, a shriveled lump of flesh, and pointed to the side.Ambrose gently moved Joras’ arm and gazed in the indicated direction. On the other side of the stump, curled into a tangle of limbs, were Tsonia and a monstrous being, naked both and obviously spent. The newcomer had a bestial snout resting on her shoulder, a powerful paw cupped her ample breast. Tsonia had a satisfied grin on her features and the stranger’s cock wedged between her ass cheeks."Can you believe it? They had me keep watch the entire time.” Shala gnashed her teeth. “Twice I had to endure their vulgar rutting. After that, hours of boredom. If I had my hands back I would throttle that whore!”The stranger raised his head, alert eyes meeting Ambrose’s. “Explain why the head talks,” he growled. “And why you keep such a thing.” He looked down to Tsonia’s shoulder. Faint bite marks marred her otherwise fair skin. “She tastes like poison and death,” the stranger said, his fur bristling. “Why?”“I have questions of my own,” Ambrose said, his hand inching towards his cane. He doubted he would be a match for the stranger’s prowess, but he felt better with a weapon at the ready. “Who are you? What do you want from us?”“I am T'pek, the hunter,” the stranger said. “I came to challenge fire-hair. Tsonia.”“And then the whore allowed the beast to breed her. Twice at least,” Shala added.“How did I miss that?” Ambrose asked.Stories about Tsonia’s amorous exploits were as numerous and outlandish as those of her prowess on the field of battle. He chuckled softly, knowing at least one of them to be true. It involved him, Tsonia and Joras after all.That particular tale ended with the fire-haired vixen spurned and furious after she caught Ambrose and Joras, naked, sweaty and curled around each other after an afternoon of lovemaking in a nameless pirate inn. She had been so obsessed with sating her own desires, so fixated on bedding Ambrose that she did not, for one moment, consider that Joras’ classical beauty and his youthful body were much more to his liking than Tsonia’s carelessly presented curves.T'pek rose, his muscular frame easily towering above sitting Ambrose. With enviable grace, the beastkin crossed the small clearing they had chosen as their camp site and dug into a pile of gear. Carrying a small bundle in his paw, he returned to the stump and knelt down next to Ambrose.The captain forced himself to look anywhere but the stranger’s groin. He had to admit, T'pek’s form, though alien to his sensibilities, exuded power and virility he would find utterly irresistible under other circumstances. After all, curiosity was a prized trait in any explorer.T'pek offered the bundle. It was wound in thick, crimson leaves, with pale yellow and white ribs. The smell emanating from it was at the same time mouth-watering and stomach-churning.“Do I want to eat that?” Ambrose asked, a tad suspiciously.“Yes. Eat. You are hurt. It will help.” T'pek nudged the bundle into his hand.“He might be lying,” Shala spat in Xhastrian. “You and Joras are of no concern to him. All he cares for is-”The hunter turned on his heels, claws out. A dangerous, low growl escaped T'pek’s throat. The undead witch closed her mouth, spearing the beastkin with baleful glares instead.“What does it say?” asked T'pek, circling Shala’s perch as if looking for just the right angle to punt her into the treetops.“Treachery and insults that will get her smashed with a rock and then burned to ash if she isn’t careful,” Ambrose chastised Shala. To T'pek he said “She says bad words about you. Bad words about Tsonia.”“The bad words it says have no use. Why keep it?” T'pek asked again.“Uh, magic. Strong magic,” Ambrose said. He was well acquainted with the words of trade on his tongue, but they were usually spoken across a table over tankards of wine, or between two ships lashed together in the open sea, or between merchant caravans meeting at a crossroads. Hearing the words, simple and ineloquent as they were, spoken by the beastial newcomer gave him a disquieting sensation along the length of his spine. “She promised to bring us home with magic. If we find the man she wants,” he continued, fighting to keep a straight face. The bundle’s scent was becoming utterly vile the longer he held it.“Do you trust it?”Ambrose sighed. “We have no ship. We cannot build one. We can wait many many tomorrows and moons for a ship to come. Or we can gamble.” He wasn’t certain how to express the concept of 'Hope’ in the simple Trade Tongue so in his own words, to settle his own mind, he added. “I’ll take a little hope over no hope at all.”“We gamble,” he concluded to T'pek.Gathering all his courage, he bit into the bundle. Rancid juices poured into his mouth. Strange clumps of an alien texture were borne on that vile torrent, their taste unfathomable. Coughing, he dropped the morsel, trying to wipe sticky remains from his lips. They burned as if touched by Thelyrian devil’s peppers.“Are you trying to kill me?” he snarled, raising his cane. T'pek shook his head and left him, sputtering and close to retching.Joras stirred next to him, no doubt roused by his violent hacking. Tsonia woke up too, disheveled but alert. Her gaze swept the campsite. When she spotted no immediate danger, she fussed about the stains and dirt caking her naked skin. Eventually, she sighed and stood.“I will bring water,” she said, grabbing the water skins. “Good water is not far.”“I will lead you,” T'pek offered. “The jungle is hungry in the morning.”“Not as hungry as his appetite for her cunt,” Shala muttered to their backs, already halfway across the clearing. Aloud she said: “If you wanted succor for your injuries, sailor, you had but to ask. I can easily restore your lost vigor.”“The price will be higher than you’d wish to pay, Ambrose,” Joras warned, then turned to the witch’s severed head. “Besides, don’t you need hands to work your magic?”“Small minds ask stupid questions,” Shala sighed dramatically. “Not every spell requires elaborate gesticulation. Sometimes a sip of blood and a few well-chosen words are all that is needed to weave the powers of the ether into a useful tapestry.”“Do you trust her?” Joras asked, the second time Ambrose had heard the question this morning.Ambrose gnashed his teeth. Sleeping on the forest floor had done little to dull the numerous aches he harbored. His sprained ankle was a dull throb even when sitting, but he knew it would flare into a beacon of agony after another day of walking for miles on end. Every nick and cut he had suffered stung from his own sweat, every insects’ bite itched worse than the caress of a jellyfish’s tendril.“I’m at my wit’s end, Joras!” he sobbed. “On the sea, there is a time to wait for the wind to shift and fill your sails, and there is a time to break out the oars and row. The wind is not shifting, Joras. Unless you want to drag or carry me to whatever fate awaits us, I’m going to die here in this jungle, unless I row.”He limped to the tree stump and picked up Shala’s head with both hands. Holding her up to his face, he stared into her undead eyes. “Speak, witch. What do you need me to do?”“Kiss me, oh captain of the seas,” Shala purred. “It will be over in no time.” The witch started to mutter, knotty words not meant for mortal tongues.“You have to be joking!” Joras gasped. “Put your lips to that, thing?”“Either that or dying on a nameless jungle path,” Ambrose said, gritting his teeth. He puckered his lips and pulled the witch’s head close. Shala, having finished her incantation, gazed at him with pursed lips, her wicked eyes wide with anticipation.“There’s a good boy,” the witch cooed. “Be strong. It will be over very soon.”Her clammy, withered lips touched his. Then came her tongue, probing into his mouth. He tried to clench his teeth against the intrusion, but the glutinous texture of the organ so repulsed his sensibilities that his jaw opened in revulsion instead. He very nearly dropped her then, but forced himself to endure the horror.The witch’s tongue delved impossibly deep, caressing his teeth, tracing unknown sigils on the roof of his mouth, coddling his own tongue. Ambrose had eaten raw fish tasting better than the curling flesh, but there was no escape from the loathsome kiss. He was transfixed by her undead eyes as her tongue explored his mouth, fouling it with her rotten taste.At last the organ withdrew and Ambrose began to relax- until her teeth gouged a bloody furrow into his lower lip. He dropped the head, but Shala did not fall. His lip, clamped tightly in her teeth, distended from the weight of Shala’s head hanging off of it. With pain lancing through his jaw Ambrose swatted at the witch, but every blow that landed only tore his flesh.Joars finally intervened with a cry of protest. Seizing the witch’s head, he supported its weight, alleviating the pull on Ambrose’s lip. He twisted Shala’s ear until she finally released her grip sputtering one last breathless word, her maw stained crimson with blood.Ambrose held his mouth, close to losing his stomach for the second time this cursed morning. As Joras asked after his state, Ambrose’s heartbeat throbbed through the deep gash in his lip and he itched to cave in that undead skull with his cane. A tingling, burning sensation started in his lips, then spread.“What manner of curse have you-” Ambrose spat, bloody spittle flying from his lips. But then he noticed it, the pain was receding! The mutilated lip was knitting itself closed! Like hundreds of stinging fire ants, the sensation traveled down his body, leaving nothing but the absence of pain behind. Even the ever-present throbbing in his ankle abated!“No curse.” Shala grinned up at him from Joras’ grip, her cheeks flushed with an infusion of life. “I have told you again and again, until we find my boy, I will do my best to help.”Ambrose mulled the words over in his mouth, but as a man of honor, he had no choice, even if it galled him. Taking a deep breath, he bowed.“Thank you, Shala.”The witch’s grin was loathsome. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”Suddenly a long, drawn wail echoed through the jungle.“That’s Tsonia!” Ambrose exclaimed, reaching for a sword. “She’s in trouble!” As if to answer him, a second wail followed.“No,” Joras sighed, setting Shala back down. “That is not the sound of Tsonia in distress I’m afraid.”“The whore is in heat, like a mongrel bitch” Shala spat dismissively.“She is having all the fun, is she?” Ambrose asked, placing an arm around Joras’ shoulders.The artist scowled. “Sometimes it is very difficult, being her chronicler.” He gently laid his head upon the taller man’s shoulder. “It may be a while before we get that water.”Ambrose chuckled. “I’d rather half a keg of Debon’s Winter Mead right about now.”He shifted his weight to embrace Joras. Had it been only a few days since they’d been swept upon these dreadful shores? Ambrose had almost forgotten how it felt to stand without favoring his bad foot.Joras looked up at him, a sly cock to his eyebrow. “Oh, you do remember our first night then?” he asked. “I thought all that mead had muddled your memory.”“I remember enough,” Ambrose affirmed, and then he kissed Joras in a way he’d not soon forget. Maybe, he thought, they’d make it out of this hellish jungle alive after all, if Tsonia’s recklessness didn’t kill them all.With Ambrose’s body mended and T'pek leading them, they traveled at a much faster clip. The soggy, swampy soil gave way to firmer ground, with the occasional rock formation jutting up between the trees. By midday, the jungle seemed much less dense and oppressive, with pools of golden sunlight cutting through wider gaps in the leafy canopy.Shortly before dusk, with thick clouds pooling overhead, they reached a wide, gaping chasm. Deep below was the glitter of a rock-strewn river, its rush and roar echoing off the sheer cliffs to either side.Ambrose peered over the edge, shuddering. “What are those dark shapes clinging to the walls?” He pointed.“Death on wings,” T'pek said. “They hunt fish below.”“I hear a 'but’ somewhere,” Joras quipped, then turned to T'pek. “How do we cross? Climb?”T'pek shoo

Season's greetings to you all and thanks for patiently awaiting the festive return of the PDP. Santa delivered 3 points to Spurs in one of his more generous gifts of the year but it would have taken a Christmas miracle to bring us back from a 4-0 deficit against Brighton in the following fixture. We analyse both games and take a look at our ever-evolving crisis and the prospect of a challenging January with many players missing and look at how we could shape up by combining the ruins of our current squad with any likely new acquisitions in the mid-season window. Also on this week's show, a tribute to our departing club legend, former captain and era-defining goalkeeper, Hugo Lloris who prepares to swap N17 for Los Angeles. As if the episode title wasn't warning enough, as always, listener discretion is advised.

Amerika se minister van Buitelandse Sake, Antony Blinken, sê daar is ʼn gaping tussen die Israelse regering se doel om burgerlikes in Gaza te beskerm en wat in die praktyk gebeur. Israel se weermag gaan voort met sy bomaanvalle in Gaza te midde van intense gevegte in die twee maande lange oorlog teen Hamas. Die Hamas-beheerde Gesondheidsministerie sê 17 177 Palestyne is dood en 46 000 beseer sedert die oorlog op 7 Oktober begin het. Blinken sê dit bly noodsaaklik dat Israel burgerlikes beskerm:

Interne navolgingspeilings deur die DA onthul glo ‘n aansienlike verskuwing in die politieke dinamiek in die buurland, met aanduidings van ‘n 7 persent gaping nasionaal tussen die DA en die ANC. Die party se parlementslid Gregory Krumbock het die media in Kaapstad toegespreek en onhul sy party se steun staan op 32 persent, met die ANC op 40 persent, wat die kleinste gaping tot nog toe is.

The Chinese Shenzhou-16 mission capsule containing three astronauts landed on Earth on Tuesday, October 31, with a torn parachute.Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

“I have a pretty controversial topic. I'm usually known for pushing the boundary a little bit.” ☝️If there were ever a sequence of words that will make heads turn and ears perk, it's THAT! Join me in this week's episode of the Swallow Your Pride Podcast where I had the absolute honor of digging into SLP challenges, gray areas, and pushing the envelope in our field with Monica Lupo, M.A., CCC-SLP, TSSLD, CDP, LSVT-C, CLTS. Monica is the owner of Speak Your Legacy Inc., a private practice and mobile FEES business serving adults and pediatrics in New York. During this discussion, Monica challenges SLPs to ask themselves questions like…“Why do I practice the way I do?” and “How can I change what I'm doing?” Monica shares which hill she will die on, mobile FEES, and holes in our scope of practice (my head almost snapped with how hard I was nodding). Tune in and join the discussion! Get the show notes: https://syppodcast.com/302 TIMESTAMPS: Challenging the current practices in speech-language pathology (00:02:10) The need for more research and mentorship in dysphagia (00:04:26) The Competency of Getting FEES Passes (00:09:14) The Blurred Scope of Practice and Lack of Guidance (00:10:59) The Need for FEES in the Home and Insurance Coverage (00:15:25) Advocacy for patient care (00:19:56) Considering comfort and preferences in choosing a scope (00:32:08) The debate on topical anesthetic and lubricants (00:39:08) Challenges and adaptability in FEES procedures (00:42:37) Collaboration and teamwork (00:46:22) Building networks and partnerships (00:49:54) The need for more mentors in the field (00:53:46) Challenges of accessing mentorship in remote areas (00:54:55) The post 302 – Guidelines, Gray Areas, and Gaping Holes: Navigating the Blurred Lines in Medical Speech-Language Pathology appeared first on Swallow Your Pride Podcast.

Second most anticipated episode ever recorded, we talk about kink and fetishes with the legends of “wildest sex experience” episode, as they tell us about their Gaping and Ass Sniffing kinks, while they justify and educate us on some medical after effect. And we get professional tips from them also. ____________________________________________ Follow this week guests on Instagram @_just_sergio @xxii.wes @dcontrl @d.a.r.r.y.l_ @theifueko @wrongswitch_up Follow the Host on all social medias @yourexWavy Follow the Whorenestly Speaking pages Instagram @whorenestly_speaking Twitter @WhorenestlyPod Don't forget to tag #whorenestlyspeaking or @ us to let us know about what you think about this week's episode! Ask us questions or tell us your whore story anonymously: https://askhonest.com/yourexwavy “VOICE NOTE” by DCONTRL https://dcon.fanlink.to/voice-notes Get 15% discount for using the Podcast code “WHOREnestly Speaking” while ordering from SSEX TOYS NG LINK TO THEIR INSTAGRAM https://instagram.com/sextoyss__ng?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Crocodiles leave their mouths open for long periods of time, and we don't really know why. We also take a long tangent on the swiftlet nest business and what wee reptiles are cashing in themselves. Become a Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/herphighlights Merch: https://www.redbubble.com/people/herphighlights/shop Full reference list available here: http://www.herphighlights.podbean.com Main Paper References: Price C, Ezat MA, Hanzen C, Downs CT. 2022. Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa. Behavioural Processes 203:104772. DOI: 10.1016/j.beproc.2022.104772. Other Mentioned Papers/Studies: Quah ESH, Chong JL. 2022. Reptile predators of swiftlets (genus Aerodramus) with a focus on their impact on the swiftlet farming industry. Herpetology Notes. Wüster, W., & Tillack, F. 2023. On the importance of types and the perils of “en passant” taxonomy: a brief history of the typification of Coluber naja Linnaeus, 1758 (Serpentes: Elapidae) and its implications, with the designation of a lectotype. Zootaxa, 5346(4), 403-419. Other Links/Mentions: AmphibiaWeb. 2023. University of California, Berkeley, CA, USA. Accessed 28 Sep 2023. https://amphibiaweb.org/cgi/amphib_query?where-scientific_name=Hyperolius+tuberilinguis&rel-scientific_name=contains&include_synonymies=Yes Audio from flamelily via iNaturalist: https://www.inaturalist.org/observations/152630015 Editing and Music: Podcast edited by Emmy – https://www.fiverr.com/emmyk10  Intro/outro – Treehouse by Ed Nelson Species Bi-week theme – Michael Timothy Other Music – The Passion HiFi, https://www.thepassionhifi.com

Evangelicalism is coming apart on the question of repentance. Does following Jesus include leaving the world and the LGBT lifestyle-- Does a sinner need to be repentant to be part of a church, or should the homosexual, the homosexual -married- guys, the pedophiles, and others feel comfortable joining the rest of the sinners sitting in the pews-- Did Jesus draw lines or circles-- What does the parent do when a young son or daughter comes -out of the closet--- Pray. Grieve. Call to repentance. Then, wait for the prodigal to come back home. --This program includes- --1. The World View in 5 Minutes with Adam McManus -Hamas' large-scale surprise attack of Israel- Duck Dynasty-inspired Christian film, -The Blind,- -5 at Box Office- Christian baker- Attacks have -strengthened my faith in Jesus Christ.-- --2. Generations with Kevin Swanson

A new MP3 sermon from Generations Radio is now available on SermonAudio with the following details: Title: Gaping Hole in the Hull of Evangelicalism - Does Following Jesus Mean Leaving LGBT? Subtitle: What Does Following Jesus Mean Speaker: Kevin Swanson Broadcaster: Generations Radio Event: Radio Broadcast Date: 10/10/2023 Length: 40 min.

The party makes their way down into the Gaping Maw to rescue the gnomes, but first they need to deal with the highly suspicious cook.-- DM --Jonathan Hardesty @movieguyjon-- PLAYERS --Andrew Staton @andrew_statonTony Dane @nomsternessyJohnny Recher @johnnyrecherBryan Dressel @WhyBryanWhy-- SPECIAL THANKS --KiloWhat for her amazing portraits of our horny heroes!@KiloWhat_Art (twitter), @thebibliotaph.blog (insta)-- WE HAVE A DISCORD --Join our fiendly fun over athttps://discord.gg/3zxD7zMcRbDEMON DAYZ THEME CREATED BYBRADLEY PARSONS

Kim Kelly, author of Fight Like Hell: The Untold History of American Labor, returns to Woke AF Daily for a provocative and enlightening discussion about the summer of strikes and the attitudes of generation Z and the upcoming generation Alpha regarding work-life balance.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

so many facts and figures to share, we had to back a truck up to this podcast.....

They've come from another world, in the dark of night, emerging from the depths of the Amazon, and they only want one thing...to PARTY! It's Brazil's own Encantado? Are they any truth to the rumors of these so called were-dolphins? And are they really the greatest rappers of all time? Only one way to find out: tune in, and just remember: don't get spooked!

Biz Tips for Empaths (Empowering Yourself Energetically) Empaths are wired differently. They are left-brain, process situations differently, have sensitive nervous systems, and work through projects differently. Only 20% of the population are Empaths. They are born with many intuitive, healing gifts and are heart-centered authentically. It is important for empaths to have strong ties with the right tribe.

We got the President Roaster Roy Wood Jr in the studio, fresh off his performance at the White House Correspondents' Dinner. We talk about the jokes he didn't use, the ones he should have, Trump, Netflix's Cleopatra and how The Jerry Springer show might look funny in the light. Indulge! 00:00 Roy Wood Jr squirming 01:40 Andrew got the Nation of Islam plug 03:43 Farrakhan the best orator alive? 05:08 Correspondents' Dinner background & insight 07:11 They didn't know Roy was nice at stand-up 08:59 Getting selected for the gig - G.S. Warriors involved 10:44 Roy Wood Jr one of less than 15 + style of comedy 11:56 How long to prepare? Changing it up 16:31 Trump was p***y for not turning up 17:26 The School Sh**ting joke + being strategic 20:56 Roy didn't get the Epstein invitation + no-one policed the jokes 22:28 Roy's meanest jokes that didn't make it 26:52 Flagrant's jokes for Roy - Disney +, Stormy Daniels, Gaping holes 36:48 Roy's appearance on “Inside Jokes” 38:11 Roy's scientific style of stand-up - precision 41:55 Roy's father - Vietnam, South Africa and CSPAN Crackas 43:25 Local reporters first to go + Civil Rights era PTSD 46:32 Kamala got them soft hands + speaking to the attendees 49:27 Feelings at the start and end + Diana Ross is important 53:08 Roy Wood Jr new Inside Joke 54:27 Roy pissing off Industrial Kool-Aid Complex 55:28 Grandma's heavies + Peanut Butter & Choc chip cookies are BLACK 01:06:17 Egyptians upset about Netflix Cleopatra 01:08:26 White Jesus and untrustworthy White Pastors 01:11:18 2 girls 1 c**k 01:13:11 Jerry Springer looks funny in the light BUT we loved it 01:20:07 NBA - TV dictated the south's fav. teams 01:22:28 Alabama ain't that bad, guys! 01:25:05 Responsibility of giving back + Roy's criminal past 01:37:19 Akaash's competing identities + repping your set

Gaping holes in Labor's electric vehicle policy, Anthony Albanese urges Lidia Thorpe to get health support after her tirade outside a strip club. Plus, Megyn Kelly on Meghan Markle snubbing the King's coronation.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This show is made possible by you!  To become a sustaining member go to LauraFlanders.org/donate  Thank you for your continued support!Laura and guest, Abigail Disney, ask how long can corporations sustain the “American Dream” at the expense of their workers.  Is the American Dream dead?  While most Americans are earning less than their parents and economic mobility is on the decline, the median net worth of the top 10 billionaires in the world has nearly tripled over the last decade.  Abigail Disney, the granddaughter of Roy Disney, one of the founders of Disney, discovered that some employees were earning one two-thousandth of the earnings of CEO Bob Iger.  She wrote to Iger, testified in Congress and ultimately made a film, “The American Dream and Other Fairy Tales.”  Abigail underscores the need to tax the top 1%, speaks out against corporate greed and calls out the policies and values that created such gaping inequality at Disney and across the business world.  Abigail Disney is an Emmy-winning documentary filmmaker, and an activist. The film, co-directed with Kathleen Hughes is available for streaming now. “There was a woman who played Winnie the Pooh for many years . . . six days a week, who died in her car. That was really a galvanizing moment for a lot of the folks that I spoke to, because the wrongness of this was all concentrated in this one moment.” - Abigail Disney“Absent collective bargaining, we are all subject to the tender mercies of Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos. Collective bargaining is the only way workers have to democratically represent their own interests in the workplace.” - Abigail DisneyGuest:  Abigail Disney, Documentary Filmmaker & Social Activist; Co-Director & Producer, The American Dream & Other Fairy Tales; Founder Fork Films; Producer & Host "All Ears" Full Show Notes are located HERE.  They include related episodes, articles, and more to dive deeper.This podcast includes an endorsement for Best of the Left, with host Jay! Tomlinson.  We think you'll dig it too!Music In the Middle:  “Black Fros Black Gold - All You Zombies Dig the Luminosity” by Burnt Sugar, The Arkestra Chamber from their ‘Twentieth Anniversary Mixtapes: Groiddest Schizznits, Volume 3'.Additional Music: "Many Hands & "Steppin" by Podington Bear Chapters (full conversation)00:00:00  Best of the Left podcast endorsement from Laura00:05:40 Gaping disparities between the Disney Corporation and employees at Disney theme parks; it's personal for Abigail Disney.00:08:43  From the founders to the current CEO, Abigail Disney investigates, and reflects on what happened00:13:27 Shifting the status quo toward justice, civil rights, assault on unions, wage disparities, capitalism00:21:37  Re-introduce guest & subject.Music in the Middle: “Black Fros Black Gold - All You Zombies Dig the Luminosity” by Burnt Sugar, The Arkestra Chamber from their ‘Twentieth Anniversary Mixtapes:  Groiddest Schizznits, Volume 3'00:24:13  Gap between have's and have not's, what to do? Money in politics00:28:00  Hope for the future addressing injustices and inequities.  Raising wages vs raising taxes. Auditing, the tax code.00:37:00  Reconstruction, shared dreams, well being and accomplishments.00:41:00 Woke Capitalism, fruits of labor, aspirations00:44:46  Closing commentary from Laura on history, anxiety and change00:46:37  FIN

In this week's “Weekly Recap,” NLW looks at the latest from the FTX bankruptcy estate and stirrings that Democrats in Congress aren't fond of SEC Chair Gary Gensler's regulatory methods. Enjoying this content?   SUBSCRIBE to the Podcast Apple:  https://podcasts.apple.com/podcast/id1438693620?at=1000lSDb Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/538vuul1PuorUDwgkC8JWF?si=ddSvD-HST2e_E7wgxcjtfQ Google: https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9ubHdjcnlwdG8ubGlic3luLmNvbS9yc3M=   Join the discussion: https://discord.gg/VrKRrfKCz8   Follow on Twitter: NLW: https://twitter.com/nlw Breakdown: https://twitter.com/BreakdownNLW   - “The Breakdown” is written, produced and narrated by Nathaniel Whittemore aka NLW, with editing by Michele Musso and research by Scott Hill. Jared Schwartz is our executive producer and our theme music is “Countdown” by Neon Beach. Music behind our sponsor today is “Foothill Blvd” by Sam Barsh. Image credit: Hermann Mueller/ Getty Images, modified by CoinDesk.  Join the discussion at discord.gg/VrKRrfKCz8.   Join the most important conversation in crypto and Web3 at Consensus 2023, happening April 26-28 in Austin, Texas. Come and immerse yourself in all that Web3, crypto, blockchain and the metaverse have to offer. Use code BREAKDOWN to get 15% off your pass. Visit consensus.coindesk.com.  

In this week's “Weekly Recap,” NLW looks at the latest from the FTX bankruptcy estate and stirrings that Democrats in Congress aren't fond of SEC Chair Gary Gensler's regulatory methods.-“The Breakdown” is written, produced and narrated by Nathaniel Whittemore aka NLW, with editing by Michele Musso and research by Scott Hill. Jared Schwartz is our executive producer and our theme music is “Countdown” by Neon Beach. Music behind our sponsor today is “Foothill Blvd” by Sam Barsh. Image credit: Hermann Mueller/ Getty Images, modified by CoinDesk. Join the discussion at discord.gg/VrKRrfKCz8.Join the most important conversation in crypto and Web3 at Consensus 2023, happening April 26-28 in Austin, Texas. Come and immerse yourself in all that Web3, crypto, blockchain and the metaverse have to offer. Use code BREAKDOWN to get 15% off your pass. Visit consensus.coindesk.com.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Ep 198: “Wide Gaping Spaces in 2023?!" by Your Gay Cousins with Michael & Estevan

Grace calls out Karine Jean-Pierre on a blast from the past, when she denied that migrants are freely walking across the border. Now that liberal news networks have confirmed to be true, is it no longer "spinning yarn" when the conservatives say it? Then, Grace talks Trump's tax returns that aren't as interesting as we were once told they might be.