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Ben
Ben and I are whiskey people. But there's only one that we truly love, and that's Big Nose Kate. Big Nose Kate isn't your average whiskey Fun fact. It's named after a real life outlaw who is a fighter and a gambler and a true adventurer. And that spirit is alive in every sip. An original blend of rye and single malt. Bold and smooth. Ready for your next adventure? Head over to bignose katewhiskey.com Enter promo code Hildy and get 20% off your first order. And don't forget to follow Kate on Instagram at Big Nose KateWhiskey to stay in touch with her wild side. Big Nose Kate Western Whiskey. Deal me in. Big Nose Kate. We love this whiskey so much. We're not just creepy fans, we're creepy investors. Hi, I'm Rashma Sajani, founder of Girls who Code. Look, I'd consider myself a pretty successful adult woman. I've written books, founded two successful nonprofits, and I'm raising two incredible kids. But here's the thing. I still wake up wondering, is this it? And if the best years are yet to come, when's that gonna start? Join me on my so Called Midlife, my new podcast with Lemonada Media, where we're building a playbook for navigating midlife one episode at a time. Each week, I'll chat with extraordinary guests who've transformed their midlife crisis into opportunities for growth and newfound purpose. At some point, we all ask ourselves, is there more to life? I'm here to discover how to thrive in my second act, right alongside you. My so Called Midlife is out now. Wherever you get your podcasts. Lemonada. This is the last one, right? Okay. The Golgoroth alliance is proud to present Hildy the Barback, and we don't have time for this. Do you have any idea how much we have to cover by the end of this episode? Well, I'm assuming it's a lot by your tone. If I don't have time to remind listeners about how God awful episode six was, you don't have time to do whatever it is you do. But isn't this taking more time than if I had just finished my spiel? Are you mouthing off at me right now? I know you're not mouthing off at me right now. Wow, is this how you treat people all the time and people think you're nice theater and don't even think about playing that stupid theater of the mind music? Get out of here and let the professionals work. My name Is Hildy. I am a bar back at a medieval pub with peasants galore and piss on the floor. Long for something more. We are in peril from the evil one who so desires to turn my shire into a lake of fire. The men folks say they'll protect me, but they would fuck up a cup of coffee. It's got to be me. I must set us all free. It's my destiny. My name name is H. And I'm fr. My name is H. Okay then, let's get right to it. Chapter 8. The conclusion of the ending of the finale. While the incredibly poorly described face swapping worked well in that it allowed Hildy and Finnick to sneak into Ural's castle, Overall, the battle for Golgoroth is going very poorly. Frankly, it's a shit show. The centaurs have betrayed the elven army and they're stabbing the armies of good with their spears. And no one knows what the hell's going on. Meanwhile, in the fortress, Hildy and Finnick have been caught sneaking into the throne room by Orgraw the Hornwing, the evil asshole who of course wants to turn all of Golgoroth into a lake of fire. And he's about to cut them in half with a giant flaming sword. See, there's a lot to cover. You've made your point. You don't need to throw it in reverse and hit it again like a tremendous burning asshole. I will do what I want, Glenn fucking Close, because I am the fucking narrator. You won an Oscar. I don't believe it. Go die in a hole somewhere while we get back to our story. Fire Blade. How do you have the Fire Blade? It's adorable how your tiny woman brain is worried about the Fire Blade at this moment. Yeah, women are the worst. Am I right, bro? I mean, if you're gonna kill somebody, kill the women firstness. Guys, stick together. You mushy face pig bottom. He's not gonna fall for that. Who is this guy? My brother, unfortunately. Now you can't pick your family. You get what you get and you don't get upset. I'm going to answer your original question. Beer girl. It's not just Beer girl, okay? That's diminishing. You see, Beerwench only descendants of my bloodline, the bloodline of Gathlemore, the Evil one himself, can wield the five relics of the Dread Ages. The sword, the scabbard, the helm, the boots, and the. Oh fuck. Which. What the fuck is the last one? Are you asking us or the helm? He Said Helm Fennec. He already said it. Yes, I said Helm starts with a G. Just tell me what it is. Trith. Nuh. Last time you couldn't recall, you made me take an oath on a stack of murdered bodies to help you remember. G.G. chee chee chee. Garment. Garment. The Garment of Gong. The Gong of shame. It's not Gong. Why would it be gong? No. Gauntlet of might. I got it without anybody's help. Wow. Wow, you're very smart. I mean, wow, it's impressive. Why, thank you. It feels nice. You know what, Sire? It's clear what she's doing. She's trying to keep talking and get you to keep talking so you don't slay them with a sword of fire. No, I am not. Well, I'm going to slay them, Drith, and I'm gonna slay them hard. Only I, as heir to Gathlemore, the Evil One, can exploit the power of the Dread Aegis. But you don't need all of the pieces to utilize the power inherent in each item. Not if you're of the bloodline. The pieces, of course, have not nearly the power they do when altogether. But there's power there still. The Sword of Fire. How can I wield it? Because it yearns to be a fire blade. And only my bloodline can release the flame. That flame was even bigger than your last one, Siren. It is time to die. What did I tell you? Orgral is the worst. But he's not the only jackass in Golgoroth. At the foot of the fortress, the battlefield is awash in blood, sweat and betrayal. The Centaur army, tricked by Urgaral's sorcery, have turned on their elven allies and the lives of our heroes and the fate of their quest. Indeed, the fate of all Golgorath sits on the edge of a knife, which is sitting on the edge of a smaller knife, which is teetering on the edge of an impossibly tiny blade of a sharp, teeny weeny little knife. Hammer. A hammer. Hammer. Gerd? Yeah. Are you okay? I guess. Heather, why do you ask? Because you're just saying hammer instead of warhammer. I only have energy for one word or the other. And screaming war in the middle of a war seems very redundant. Look out. I wish your giant cousins would help more. They're teenagers. They will only take part if they see something fun to squish with their humongous feet. They find the Morlith soldiers very boring. I see. How many morelith soldiers have you Warhammered so far. That last One was number 87 or 88. That's a lot. I'm only a 32, but in fairness, my swords are not that long. 33. We can't keep up this pace. A quick question, Hair. Are we fighting the Centaurs now? No, of course not. They've sworn themselves to our cause and the freedom of Golgorath. Auto. The Haftar rushes towards them. Everyone, quick update. We're fighting the centaurs now. I knew it. Soul of our spittoon. Otto, you're kind of a centaur. What happened? First off, I'm not kind of a centaur, I'm a centaur. I just. I don't have most of the horse part. The second thing. Since centaurs have always been beholden to the moon movements of the constellations. Mirabelle thinks someone changed the stars to convince Queen Kinessa and King Bronwyn that they needed to betray us and fight for Urgrel's army. Look out behind you. How do you change the damn constellations? I'll tell you, Halperta. Star magic. Mirabelle. You're alive. Of course I'm alive, you silly goose. I'm the one holding a dragon proof magical shield over the whole battlefield right now. Though I do feel it's power waning. But someone did. Star magic. Oh, excuse me. Po. Fireball. Anyhow, I was so busy conjuring magical shields and fireballing mauliths that only recently as I looked into the sky for Gorwyn the deadly dragon, did I notice the constellations had been changed. It's not your fault, babe. Fighting a war is very distracting. But you're doing great with your fireballs and your lightnings. Thank you so much, my good boot. Mirabel, can you break the enchantment on the constellations and reveal their true message to our forces? Copy that. Everyone stab and hammer some enemies while I check one of my scrolls. Otto, could you please unfurl this scroll? Absolutely. Hammer. Oh, I see. Hammer. Right. Urgrol used an illusion to change the stars positions. Would you like for me to change them back? Not yet. Otto, you have to explain what's happening to Queen Kinessa. Duke Bronwyn is dead. So that's one less person to bring up to speed. Make sure she looks up when Werribel changes the constellations or she'll miss it in the fog of war. So you think centaurs need a big flashy magic show to convince them they made a mistake? Absolutely. Well, yeah. Not wrong. But I. I'LL go tell her of URL's deceit. I'll be back. Move. In your face. Queen Kanessa. What tidings of war do you bring to me? Wondrous haftar. First of all, I'm very sorry for the loss of Duke Bronwyn. My heart is shattered. I will spill so much blood on these fields before I join Duke Bronwyn in the hereafter pasture. Hereafter pasture. I like that. But my queen, I must ask. Why do you fight against our allies? Why the betrayal? You wouldn't understand. Otto. A cuestas of clan A Questus. The Centistars have spoken to the royal Centaurs and we must abide their counsel. The constellations told us that your rebellion would falter and that Ugraal would taste victory. The tsars then instructed us to gain the trust of the elves. And then upon being signaled by Ugraal or his minion Drith to join his army and destroy his enemies. And you didn't consider for a second that Urgraal might be behind this? The stars seemed to be very specific about what they wanted you to do. Silence. Only the center stars are wiser than we centaurs. But not as beautiful. You have been betrayed. Could I beg of you to look back to the heavens one more time to confirm your interpretation of the center stars? Since your father sits on the long main council, Otto, I shall look one more time to the stars. But only the most decisive change to the constellations could ever make me. Mirabel. Now. How strange. The stars. They dance like dancers to the music of the night. The Centa stars are retelling their prophecy. My gods. What have we done? Urgrall enchanted the stars to force you to do his bidding. He has used the centastars against you. For shame. This cannot stand. Ugrahl and his Morlith army are the sworn enemy of Centaurs from this day to the end of time. What does this mean? What are you gonna do? It's time for a double double cross. Wouldn't that just be a triple cross? It doesn't. The centaurs have switched sides again. It doesn't say a whole lot about us as a people. But now is not the time to split hairs. Centaurs never have split hairs. Oto Equestus. Our hairs are always perfect. Now to more. I can be a little particular about my adult beverages. I always want it to be delicious and fun but not always filled with booze. That's why I've been enjoying hop water lately. 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And you can't see it, but I'm making air quotes around the word son because how a full grown man can actually believe his mother is a dragon is seriously bonkers. I know we shouldn't judge, but I'm judging. Shut up, Trial. I'm scheming. Oh, I can help you, mom. I'm the best schemer in all of Golgoroth. You put two sticks on my feet and I just shoot down the mountain. I'm so fast. Scheme, not ski, you dimwit. I'm planning, plotting, strategizing, stalking my prey. Oh yeah, I don't do that. I know. Hey, mom, no, you can't go skiing right now. Okay, hold on. Whoa, whoa. Mom, you're driving real fast. And as we all know, women can't drive. Are we gonna hit like a magic shield or splatter? Like a rotten pig splatter or something? I can feel the sorcerer's power has been diverted. The shield's strength is diminished. Perhaps their sorcerer is not as gifted as we thought. We should enter the fray. The battle is changing. Yes. Oh, look. The centaurs are beating the primordial piss out of the Morlis again. You're right, Drael. Perhaps we should reward those vain, glorious, triple crossing centaurs with a hot, deadly breath of dragon fire. Let's rip up a couple first, Mom. I like to bite their heads off. It's a rare occurrence when I am proud to be your mother. Trial. Woohoo. Yeah. Bite their heads. Bite their heads. Bite their heads and eat their heads. Burn and bite. Burn and bite. You're my mom. I love you, mom. Help. Chaos and bloodshed rule the day on the battlefield. Gorwon. The dragon breaks through the magical shield's defenses and indeed begins biting the heads off of a brigade of centaur warriors. Back in the throne room, Hildy and Finnick have managed to scramble away from Orgraal and the Sword of Fire. Drith. They scampered away like Rats through the cabbage patch. Or rabbits? What? No. Rats run through cabbage patches, rabbits run through swamp grasses. What? Alright, fine. Of course, your direness. There they are, sire. Under the table of magical Relics. Reveal yourself. Tavern tramp. And brother. And brother. The Sword of Fire hungers for your necks. Hildy and Finnick, climb out from underneath the bloodstained table. I'm certain a compromise can be reached. Your. Your horniness. I'm sorry, Horniness? No. Dweeze, stop it. Stop laughing at that. No. You're ruining my menace. I just got caught off hornies. Okay, we have information that you desperately need. So. So why not listen? I mean, before you cut off our heads and throw them off your balcony. Now, Fennec. What? What did we discuss while we were under the table? About the sandwiches? Oh my God, we never mentioned sandwiches. It was about your bag and the relics. Oh, you meant that. For now. God, yes. Right fucking now. And just like very sluggish lightning, Fennec reaches his thick arm out and sweeps all of the enchanting relics of the Dread Ages into his magical bag of holding. The boots, the gauntlet and the helm disappear into his infinitely deep and boundlessly large magical sack. Aha. Ha. How do you like us now, dicks on head? I think they're horns. I know they're horns, Fennec. I'm just trying to insult him. Incredible. I mean, I have to say, it seems like you foiled all my plans in one move. That's right, we did. You deposited all the pieces of the Dread Ages into your brother's sorcerer satchel. It's a magical bag of holding. Oh, stupid name. You're a stupid name. The bag is magically connected to Fennec. Only he can put things in or take things out. So if you kill us, you'll never assemble the Dread Ages. Ha. What you're saying is mostly true. Except. Except? Except what? Except we don't need. Damn it all. Truth. That's not your moment. Thousand apologies, your highness, Sir. Except we don't need. I did it again. You just did it again. We don't need you. We just need your hand. Yeah, but my hand is attached to. Not anymore. Dong Donkey. And with a mighty slash of the Sword of Fire, Orvraal slices off Finnick's arm at the elbow. The lifeless arm flies across the throne room floor, the heat of the flame cauterizing the stump. Oh God, it's so stingy. Fenic, Keep clear of him. Drith, would you be so kind as to gather up our friend's arm? Before it begins to stiffen with pleasure. You're a monster. We're so kind of you to notice. I mean, I have huge evil fucking horns growing out of my immense demonic head. I would think it speaks for itself. What's the pale weird guy doing to my hand that's attached to my old arm? I'm making a fish hook with your fingers before rigor mortis sits in. How else are we going to get my weapons out of your magical sack? And I'm rarely complimentary, but Dwith is exceptionally good at retrieving items out of magical satchels. Gratitude. I'll have vengeance upon you both for this. I can't wait to see you try. I could kill you now. But I may need you before I acquire all of the relics. Or I might wish to spend a while torturing you. First, let's watch Drith work. He's masterful at this sort of evil craft. First, I picture in my mind what I'm trying to retrieve. I'm picturing the helm of magic. Then I push the arm into the bag and I retrieve a handful of stew. Did you say stew? Mutton stew. Why is there so much stew? Because my brother gets hungry. I love stew. He loves it. The whole bag is filled with it. How do you find anything in here? I have a system. Don't embarrass me. Truth. Get me my relics. I ache to set this world ablaze. I am trying. Oh morbid one. But I'm sorry. There is just so much potato and so much carrot just floating around. I mean, really. Wow. It's just hard to see. Do what you can, Trith. But I'm inspired by your stew theme. In keeping with it. I'm not going to wait. I'm going to cut this mouthy waitress into bite sized pieces. Somehow it's already gift giving season. It always sneaks up on me. One week at St. Patrick's Day. 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Fighter, lover, successful gambler, enterpriser, Kate was a character that we should have known more about. And now we do. Her spirit lives on in this spirit, a uniquely original blend of rye and single malt that has a smooth, rich flavor that's as bold as Kate herself. Ready for your next adventure? Head over to bignose kate whiskey dot com. Enter promo code Hildy and you get 20% off your first order. And don't forget to follow Kate on Instagram at Big Nose Kate Whiskey. To stay in touch with her wild side. Big Nose Kate, Western Whiskey. Deal me in, Big Nose Kate. We love this whiskey so much. We're not just creepy fans, we're creepy investors. I told y'all this episode was gonna be insane. Fennec lost an arm. As Hildy dodges the sword of fire. The chaos continues on the battlefield. With the centaurs fighting alongside our heroes again, the tide is beginning to turn. Except for the fact that an almighty dragon is about to piss in the punch bowl. Press the attack. We're pushing them back. Otto. Tell Queen Canessa to flank their front line. The elves can hold the forward position. Will do, Ger. Get that little one. Mom. Oh, shit. And just like that, Gorwon, the most ancient, terrible ore dragon in existence, swallows Otto whole. No. No. Otto. Mirabel do something. He tastes delicious. God, I haven't had a half tar in centuries. I'll destroy you, monster. Fireball. Oh no. O destroy me? You can't fight fire with flame, you dapped fleshies no magic can destroy. Go on the gruesome. And son, ignore him. Now, who shall I devour next? Perhaps I start with an elf, then dig into some centaur. Oh, yum, yum, yum. It all looks so delicious. Dragon, I will give you this one chance to fly away and never return to Golgorath. I banish you. Peda, what are you doing? I'm showing the mercy to Gorwan that she didn't show our friends. What say you, creature? I say that my tastes have just changed. Perhaps I'll start with a bellicose brunette who doesn't know who the fuck she's talking to. You were warned, monster. Gerd, do you think your cousins would want to play with this? Ooh, yes. Trog. Croon little trog. I got something fun for you. It's flying straight at us. Ooh, a lizard. I want a lizard for my room. I know, you told me. You can have this one. Put it in your room. What? Giants? Your grawl didn't say there were giants. Oh no. Get the fuck out of here. Hey, grab it. Trying to fly away. It's so cute. No, giant. Put me down. Like children trying to capture a lizard without squishing it, the three giants manage to get their enormous hands around Gorwon the Gruesome. All of her magic and dragon fire are useless against the 70 foot behemoths. With their prize in hand, the giants run back to Cormorant with their new pet. As they disappear over the hill, Gorewan's last words are shouted back at her son, who fell off her back during skirmish and landed right next to G. Take the boy. He's useless. Mama. Oh no. My mom is gone. Well, you're on land now. And I'm going to warhammer your ass into Oblivion Town. Hold on. Gerd. Did you lose your mommy? Yeah, she's gone. Big bad men took her. You look scared. Do you need help? Well, my mama's gone and my uncle hates. And I hate him too. I hate him real bad. Well, what do you want to do? I like to fight. Stab people, cut off their arms, that sort of stuff. Sure. Well, we're fighting right now. Do you want to fight with us? I don't know. See that army of morliths over there? You can cut off all the heads and arms you want. And when you're done, we can go find your mommy. Are you sure? Absolutely. Right, Gerd. Right, Maribel? Oh, absolutely. It'll be the first thing we do. We just want to make sure you're happy. Do you have an extra sword you can use? Mine. Yay. Watch. I'm real good at stabbing. Stab. Woo. Watch. Watch. I just stabbed him. You are a big boy. You are a big stabbing boy. Watch. Watch me. Yeah. Are you watching? Oh, those good boy. Oh my goodness. I stabbed him good. Look at that. You're a great stabber. How did you do this? Every man is just a little boy trying to find a new mommy. That jacked up moron looked like he could fight, so I convinced him to fight for us. Can I have a glass of milk? By the gods, Perta, you are a wicked woman. Thank you for recognizing my talents. Oh, I've got a boner. Without that dragon into interfering, we have a proper chance of finally ending this whole war. Let's just hope that Hildean Pheasant can do their part. Did you just say Pheasant instead of Fennec? Do you really not remember his name? It started out as a joke, but now I really don't know. Back in the throne room, things are not going well for Hildy and Pheasant. An arm has been cut off and the Sword of Fire is about to slice Hildy in half. Only Mutton is standing between our heroes and the destruction of all of Golgorath and humanity as we know it. Oh my God. Did I say Pheasant? I meant Fennec. I apologize. Any luck, Drith? Yes, I can see the Helm of Magic, but it's covered in meaty broth, so it's hard to hook. Ooh, did your stomach just growl? You said meaty broth. It's okay, Fennec. There's no rush. Once I kill this feisty girl, we'll have all the time in the world. All the time that is left, that is. Get on with it then, you putrid pilopiss. I'm tired of hearing you smack your lips together. I'm going to enjoy this bar back. Behold your death. What just happened? Am I dead? No. Hildy wasn't dead because a Sword of fire didn't go through her chest as Ural planned. Instead, the blade swerved in mid strike and deposited itself into the Scabbard of Fate attached to Hildy's belt. Let go of my sword. Get your sword out of my scabbard and stop screaming like an Idiot. Sire, why are you so close to that booby carrier? The sword moved like it had a mind of its own. And now it's stuck in the scabbard. Give it to me, wench. Orgron and Hildy are now face to face, both clutching at the sword of the scabbard. Your breath is really banging. The sword will respond to your will. And yours alone, your highness, will its release. What do you think I'm doing, Drift? I'm willing my brains out here, but I alone command the elements of the Dread Aegis. Heed my desire. That's not what you said. How dare you correct my. You said something about bloodlines, right, Hildy? Yes, by the gods, Fennec, you're right. Bergrel, you said only descendants of Gathomore the Evil's bloodline can use as magical weapons. But this scabbard is heeding my will. That means that mom or dad must have been a relative of Gathelmore the Evil one. Silence. How dare you claim that a common bar wench is a descendant of my royal bloodline. Give me back my sword. That's what. Except explain why we've had the scabbard in the first place. Also, it looks so good over the keg table. It made the tavern look fancy. Mom had to be the descendant, right? That woman could get dark. So dark. But if I'm a descendant, then I should be able to grab the hilt of the sword and yes, yes, I can stone cold wield this motherfucker. No. It cannot be. Your Unholiness. She's brandishing the Sword of Fire. It's being brandished by a woman. This is not just any woman. She is my cousin. Oh, it's gross when you say it that way. It's the only answer. I have seen the lineage scrolls. But that line was supposed to be broken. It's impossible. I had whatever remaining family member of that bloodline strategically eliminated. I even received written confirmation. You killed our parents, you sick motherfucker. Hey. Or graw. Does this make us cousins or uncles? Fennec woman, if we truly are kin, then you must share my desire to burn this world and recreate it in my image. What the fuck are you even talking about? You're the only evil maniac that wants to do that. The rest of us are trying to stop you from destroying the whole fucking world. So you'll join me in my evil plan. A couple of descendants setting Golgoroth aflame, burning everything to cinders. Dancing on the bodies of the fallen. Is that what I'm hearing now Drift. No. My belt. As URL was distracting Hildi with his insanity, Drith had snuck up behind her and cut off her belt. Then it and the Scabbard of Fate clattered to the throne room floor. Drith quickly picks up the immortal relic before Hilda can stop it. Sire. Catch. With an arcing throw, Drift hurdles the scabbard at Orgroth. Now we'll see who the real master of the Dread Aegis is. Huh? Sire. What in the. All three look up and see the Scabbard of Fate. It's floating in space directly above them. Did you do that? I. I didn't do it. At least I don't think so. Then who the hell did it? Tis I, Fennec the flummoxed. Fennec, what did you do? I'll tell you what he did. While everyone else was playing grab ass with the sword and scabbard, Finnick fished the helm, boots and gauntlet out of his stew bag and put them all on. Just those three pieces alone imbued him with incredible magical power. He is also, as Hildy's brother, of course, part of the royal bloodline. With his newfound power, Finnick summons a sword and scabbard out of midair and pulls him to his side and says, I am the wielder of all the pieces of the great big. The thing you all want. It's called the Dread Ages. Silence. Fenic, your arm. You have a new arm. Oh, I do? Whoa. Look at that. I guess the dreadful Aegis grew me a. A golden magical arm. This power is wasted upon you, sewer slug. Only my sister calls me Sewer slug. Prepare to die, Fenic. No. Death is too good for them. No. Not the way I was going to do it. I was going to pull their butt holes through their noses so that they would have to smell their butts just before they died. O, well, well, okay, that's. That's one way to go. It's a great idea. But what about putting them in your magical bag instead? Wait, can I do that? You have all the power in the cosmos. You can do anything you want. Please. I've seen what's in that bag. I'd rather have the butt nose treatment. Don't grovel. Truth. It's beneath us. Why don't you shut your mouth, Drith? This is all your fault. If you'd have taken the opposing forces seriously. Wheat, into the bag. You did it, Fennec. You saved us. Okay, can you please wear the magical armor now? Please, Hildy? I don't want to wear it anymore and I don't want to make any decisions. And it feels like it's eating my mind. I don't like it. Okay. All right. Of course. Yeah. Look, let's get it off you, brother. Okay. Let me. You're pulling back and I'm. It's twisting. God, just lay down and I'll do it. And just like that, the Battle of Golgorath is over. Hildy takes control of the Dread Aegis and using the Helm of magic, transports herself and Finnick to the battlefield, stunning her friends and allies. Hildy, you're alive. Whoa. Sis, it is fantastic to see you. And you have a lot of power coming off you right now. I can feel it. It's like an energy or heat. It's coming from the Dread Aegis. As it turns out, Fennec and I are part of the royal bloodline. That doesn't surprise me at all, best friend. Oh. I mean, not every part of that bloodline can be totally evil, right? I mean, I can see mom being part of it. Actually. That woman had some secrets. Okay, hold on a minute. I have to set the entire moral of army aflame. Hold on. I dispatch thee to the bowels of hell from whence you came. I don't really have to say anything, but I just. It felt. It just felt kind of right for the moment. Sounded very cool. Best friend. Is it bad that the smoky smell of burning Mawith is making me kind of hungry I could eat. However gross that may be. I'm very glad that Urgraal never got all five pieces of the Dread Aegis. Listen to them cheering for you, Hildy. No, they're cheering for us. They should be cheering for themselves. For all of our well deserved victory. Huzzah. Indeed, the forces of good have won this battle. And they celebrate, including Queen Knessa, Lord of the Centaurs and King Freiman, King of the Elves. Mighty Queen Knessa, I'm very sorry I killed your husband. It is regrettable he did kill your husband, though. Indeed. And you know the Elven and Centaurian laws are clear in this regard. Yes. If the spouses of elves and Centaurs are slain on the battlefield, those who remain are now married. I want an open relationship. I refuse this request. You can work with a counselor. You get out what you put in and back with our heroes. Across the field of battle, Gerd looks around at all the bodies, the horrors of war. We lost Otto the Haftar and King Thymon and the boastful Duke Centaur with the huge pecks. What senses war? None that I have ever seen. It shall take time to heal and rebuild. I should really have asked this earlier. Where's Urgraal anyway? Oh, I put him and his friend into my magical bag of holding. And right after that I peed myself. Oh, also I have a golden arm now. You sure do. On you it looks like a mistake. Well, if you're willing, I thought we'd all take a quick trip to the Isle of Almagus. I hear they have a chasm of infinite suffering and I am dying to see what it looks like. Hildy with the helm of magic conjures a portal to take herself, Finnick, Mirabel, Purta and Gerd to the Isle of Almachus. In an instant, Hildy and friends are transported across the world and stand at the edge of the chasm of infinite Suffering. Plunging his magical golden hand into his bag of hold, Fennec pulls Orgraal and Drift halfway out of the bag. They are obviously covered in stew. Oh, how dare you. I will rip your other arm off, you low red stall of tripe. Why can I not climb out of this bag? The bag is magically big. It's also impossible to get your footing on that many peas and carrots. I will get out of here. And when I do, I shall enjoy chalking you to death. You've with the wrong conqueror. Wait a minute. Where are we? Shit. It's the Chasm of Infinite Suffering. Well what does that mean? It means you and I are gonna fall for infinity in this shitty magical bag full of gloppy stew. And I'm going to suffer the entire time because you won't stop bitching. Drift. Where's all this hostility coming from? I have an infinite amount of time to answer that question. Any last words or growl. Shove it witch. You haven't heard the last from Ultra. See you later, cuz de horror. See ya, uncle. Oh, I guess I just. Just once I'd like to be introduced. Andrea. I wish I got to warhammer his face just a little bit before you send him to hell. Some guys you just have to throw into a chasm girdle. Yeah, some dudes are chasm worthy. Falling forever sounds so horrible. Unless you've fallen for the perfect person. Of course. You are talking about me, Baby Belle. I love you. I love you. Good bird. Later we will use much tongue, Baby bell, or this is enjoyable. You guys can probably just kiss and not describe it. Hildy sees her brother looking depressed as his bag of holding. Which Contains the greatest villains of their time. Falls down the chasm, out of sight. Sorry. Lost your bag of holding, brother. Oh, don't worry about it. Dad left me a backup bag of holding. It's in the office at the bar. God damn it. I'm really gonna miss that stew though. Hey, do you guys want to know what I was gonna say right before I died? Not really. Phoenix. Hard pass. Pheasant. Yes, I. I do want to hear. Fennec. You never told me. I was going to say next round of drinks is on the house. What do you think? I think it's actually pretty good. I know I could use a drink. I could use several. Do you have one more of those ultra deluxe portals on you, Hildy? I can manage one more. Next up, the Shady castle. I'm thirsty. And with that, the women of Merevale, and of course Finnick, return to their home. In the following weeks, Gerd and Mirabelle move in together and make each other laugh. Purda begins importing goods from Thymdal, the Centaurs and the Isle of Almagus and becomes a mercantile tycoon. Fenwick buys many rounds of drinks and retells a story about his golden arm so many times that everyone has to pretend to listen. And Hildy, you know what? Take a break. I can handle this last part. Thank the gods. I need a drink. After all that, Hildy removed the five powerful relics from the dread Aegis from her body and swore to never put them on again. Then she bestowed several of the pieces of armor to her most trusted allies. Allies that weren't men folk because they'd had their chance. It was time for women to have their turn. Gerd got the Gauntlet of Might. Who else is mighty? Hina? Herta got the Boots of Destiny. I wish they were more attractive, but I can make them work. Mirabel got the Helm of Magic. I am an all powerful magic user after all. And I kept the Sword of Fire and the Scabbard of fate. Would you like to know why? Because it's got to be me. I must set us all free. It's my destiny. My name is Hildy and I'm fortunate as a lady on fire. My name is Hildy the Barber. I found myself at a bit of a low point. Makes sense being in the chasm of infinite suffering and all. I wrote a little song about it. You're welcome. Nobody loves me, nobody cares. I got a case of the Mondays Like I got thrown down a flight of stairs My therapist told me stop doing so wrong So I threw him in a volcano. I thought his screams of agony would help to live my mood. But no dice. So it's time for my Cheer up song. Sometimes when I get low I gotta get back in the show. Cause it every cold grandiose knows I'm who cry. What a prick. There are sunny skies ahead I can't live open in my bed. There's so many people I want to make that I'm hra So many people hurting, they're straggling into my earth. Well I can solve their problem. I'm on a drama like a fighter. Fuck yes. No more pain and sorrow, all my enemies will hang. I'll end this party with the bang. I'm Ugal, I'm the kind that won't let down, I heal dress mama, Cause I ain't no clown. Swinging lava on Bogora town. Boobity bop boobity bop skibidi boo. And as your skin is melting down and your smile turns to a frown bean dope fire goes back to drown Gibbly deep bibbly goo booboo. Oh, you'll go do your craving not so. Why, hello there. This is your pal Sarah Silverman. You know, the standup comic that's not afraid of a diarrhea joke. Oh my God, I'm so brave. I hope you're enjoying this podcast that you're listening to. I am just dropping in here to let you know about another podcast I think you'd like, and it's called the Sarah Silverman podc. Each week, listeners from all over the world call in and they ask me for advice. Or they talk about something going on in their life. Anything. Their silliest, grossest, deepest, darkest situations. And then I respond, whether I'm qualified to or not. Go ahead, search for the Sarah Silverman podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Bye. Are you in bed by 10? Can you feel your hormones raging? More than ever. Do you wake up every day wondering, is this it? Guess what? You're not alone. Welcome to my so Called Midlife, a weekly podcast hosted by me, Reshma Sajani. On this show, we're going to expose the con we've been sold about middle age, figure out what the fuck we want from our lives and how to get there. We'll have help from guests like Julia Louis Dreyfus, Supreme Court Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, and Ilana Glaser. You can listen to my so Called Midlife ad free on Amazon Music.