#GLORIOUS PURE INSULAR

[fincalinde]

JGY! (getting in ahead of the crowd)

Ah, but of course. I have only had 3 asks for this meme so I can only assume people are sick of my whinging, so it's not like you beat the rush.

a song that reminds me of them

I'm trying to think of songs that I haven't already strip mined for fic titles and not coming up with much. So maybe this can just be a recommendation for PHILDEL, who is one of my favourite artists. A lot of her work has serious Xiyao vibes, and off the top of my head the one that might be the most JGY on his own is Glorious.

There's a place I go A place I always stand alone And need no witness to my throne Here I say my piece And have no need to be believed The bridge I built will carry me Beyond the creatures of your sea

and

Here I win my day I make my kill upon the grave And need no hero to be saved Here the light still shines Despite the odds and all the time Despite the gods and their design

—like, omg

what they smell like

He's obviously fastidious because he can't ever afford not to be, but I'd probably stage it like this:

Before his mother dies - can never get rid of the cheap sickly smell of the brothel incenses.

After his mother dies - not around much if any incense and must be as respectable as possible, smells of clean cloth and silk and whatever hair oil he can afford. He is very careful about hair oil, he absolutely must not appear to be cheap or tacky.

When he's serving the Nie - similar to the above, probably keeps making little adjustments every time he's bullied about something in a fruitless attempt to mitigate all the judgement and make himself respectable.

When he's serving the Jin - see above but so much worse.

When he's serving the Wen - very careful at first but begins to adjust to having some form of power and resource that protects him from direct abuse. Spends enough time with WRH that he smells like the same incenses WRH prefers, and his scented hair oil and the like is carefully chosen to be consistent with whatever is fashionable amongst the Wen and approved of by WRH.

When he's legitimised - see above but dialled up. He has to walk a fine line between being the same as the other Jin without coming across as vulgarly ambitious. In fic a time or two I've mentioned that he smells of olibanum incense, which I chose as something that would have been imported at great expense and seemed characteristic of the Jin. He needs to demonstrate his status and his wealth, but that said: I guarantee you that it's a typical fragrance that's used all over Golden Carp Tower, and not a scent that's considered a signature central Jin family fragrance. He wouldn't be so bold.

When he's chief cultivator - sticking with what he was doing before. He can never stop being careful.

Secret bonus scent: sandalwood because he spends so much time around LXC.

an otp

oh well let me think of course it's Xiyao. I don't think the text supports a reading where they're lovers, but I think it does support a reading where their intimate friendship includes romantic feelings and the potential for a romantic and presumably also sexual relationship. LXC is the only person who gets on the MS tier of the JGY harm pyramid. JGY is the only person who sees LXC's needs and attempts to meet them. Their relationship is a true meeting of the minds, and the secrets between them are either mutually agreed and healthy or the result of horrific external circumstances. I think I've summed it up before.

a notp

I already mentioned how repellent I find Nieyao in my NMJ response.

Honestly though, JGY with anyone but LXC is a no from me. I think his relationship with QS is sweet and tragic, but it's telling that he never once talks about loving her for who she is and how they are together. He insists he loved her and the forcefulness of that assertion makes it clear he's being sincere, but the emphasis is all on how he's grateful for the fact that she never made his background an issue. It reads to me like he loves how sweet and kind she is and how brave and loyal, but even that is not enough for a healthy and successful relationship. I'm not going to get into the incest thing as that would be a whole other post.

Based on this, I think if he didn't need a wife for social and political purposes he'd have been equally as happy to have her as a supportive friend and political ally. She is canonically not that bright, and he needs an intellectual equal for true partnership—and that's not even getting into the importance of him needing a partner who's capable of grappling with moral relativism.

favorite platonic/familial relationships

This might make @thatswhatsushesaid happy—I really like JGY's relationship with NHS before he's forced to take out NMJ and it all goes to hell. JGY deserves a didi he can dote on. NHS probably does not deserve another doting gege, but I'll allow it anyway.

I also love JGY and JL. The flashback to JGY giving JL Fairy is one of my favourite scenes, not just because it shows that JGY genuinely loves and cares for JL, but because it shows that JGY's unique background and struggles have equipped him to provide JL with comfort and support that no one else could offer.

I always assumed Jin Chan and his little mob of thugs have parents who are a political threat to JGY within the Jin, or how else would they have the guts to harass the heir who will one day rule over them? So there's a lot of layers here for JGY, who has to navigate a delicate political situation while trying to do what he can for JL. I just think it's a beautiful moment where JGY cannot do what I'm sure he wants to do and deal directly with the source of the abuse, and so he does what he can. He knows better than anyone else that sometimes you can't make the abuse stop; but it still matters if you can help someone bear it a little bit better.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with

I mean, how much time do you have? I have no patience for the ubiquitous bratty power bottom JGY bossing around 'service top' (vomit) LXC, and I also have no patience for the I think less ubiquitous now but still worth mentioning sadist dom JGY who fantasises about cutting lines into LXC. Those are probably the most common base types I've seen around, but the list, it goes on. I could write another few thousand words joylessly debunking what seems to get people off on AO3, but I really do spill enough ink already on highlighting how inconsistent these portrayals are with the JGY we see in canon.

I'm not saying every single word I personally write is blessed by the angels and incontrovertibly in line with the translated text of the novel, and obviously we are all here at the end of the day to have fun. But it does baffle me that this is so inescapable, because if you want those sorts of dynamics then there are so many other pairings out there to choose from.

the position they sleep in

This probably varies but he must be an extremely light sleeper and probably never sleeps with his back to the door.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in

Can I bring up my ATLA AU yet again ... yes, I am shameless. Or how about the theoretical X-Men AU I raised in the last post? The trouble is that this would have to be a setting where being a mutant is desirable and he has a weak mutation that he exploits to the maximum and perhaps later is able to strengthen.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn

Since THAI COVER JGY was already taken, I'll pivot and say I really love what he's wearing in his official artwork. Look at this man! He is elegant and wealthy and powerful and classy and a skilled diplomat and administrator and yet there remains an air of danger about him. Precise! Deadly! Polite! sorry i think i got possessed by lan xichen there for a moment

#ask #xiyao-feels #roquen meta #hilariously for so many of these fanon dynamics #i find myself exclaiming 'but wangxian is right there!' #for the knife thing i mean i guess there's cql xxc + xy #i am dubious as to whether xxc would be into it #but i'd at least say it's likely xy sits there imagining that sort of thing #putting cql yi city meta in the tags of my post about jgy #i do what i want #there is nothing more attractive than a competent administrator #unless it be a competent administrator with a sword that murders other swords #GLORIOUS PURE INSULAR #THE VERY FIRST TO DRAW THE AIR #AND TOUCH THE EARTH #I BUILT IT THERE #OH GLORIOUS OH

[intherecentfuture]

any albums with blue album covers you really like?

I thought long and hard about this....

And went with my first instinct:

Wave Your Flags by Phildel! I love this album all around. Phildel knows how to make beautiful and ominous music. And this album features one of my all-time favorite songs, "Glorious"!

Album Nominees

Ominousness: Glide Dog

Beauty: Floods (tight competition in this category, truly the entire album could be nominated)

Lyrics: Glorious

Lyric Selection:

There's a place I go A place I always stand alone And need no witness to my throne Here, I say my piece And have no need to be believed The bridge I build will carry me Beyond the creatures of your sea

Glorious, pure insular The very first to draw the earth And touch the air I built it there Oh, glorious Glorious, ooh

Here, I win my day I make my kill upon the grave And need no hero to be saved Here, the light still shines Despite the odds and all the time Despite the gods and their design

#phildel #glorious' here the light still shines part is particularly one of my all time favorite lyric excerpts #thanks for the ask! #the disappearance of the girl #her other full length non-instrumental album #is also incredible #described in her bio as including 'gothic fantasies that sustained her during' an abusive childhood #I just love phildel tbh

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

There's just so much existential horror and misery trapped within the comedy of Saiki K and tbh that's why I love it lmao.

Forcing your entire family to lift their roots and put them down elsewhere. Being intelligent enough to see and understand the burden and strain this places on the people around you. Knowing they do it because your parents love you, they don't want to leave you. The sacrifices they've made just for you.

Your mom is afraid to make friends because what if she says too much?

Your father is constantly going from job to job, something which looks terrible on a resume, forcing him to take worse and worse work just so he can support your family. He blames you. You kinda blame you too so you don't protest it. It's not like he can hurt you anyway if he takes it out on you. He does. He doesn't hide it. Why would he? It's normal.

You've been fighting one thing or the other ever since you can remember.

It's natural for your older brother to be jealous of you - your very presence has split his parents' attentions but more now he has to learn from a young age first hand that there's always someone better than you. Your life is constantly displaced for reasons that are purely attributed to you, but you can't make those reasons go away.

You can't connect with anyone either. You're terrified that if you do, something will happen that'll trigger your family to move, again, uproot everything they've tried so hard to establish. Or, worse, you'll hurt someone. Many someones. Break the world. You've almost done it. Your morals weren't fully developed then. The guilt you carry isolates you further.

The people you love most are constantly on the run. From you.

You're aware of your capacity. Of your ability. It's frightening to the point of grey, numb, exhaustion.

You want to run from you too.

Xxx

Your little brother was the worst and best thing that ever happened to you. You hated him but he challenged you physically and creatively, drove you to work hard, inspired you constantly to do better, do bigger, because every failure was an opportunity to learn. But it got to be too much. You had to get away. He was everywhere. He was better than you. Stronger than you. Your nights become filled with nightmares once you learn he nearly killed four kids - and nobody is ever going to know he did it. Worse, nobody is ever going to care he did it. He can make it so. So you leave, go to be among people you think are like you....only they're not. Your life has been so insular from all the moving around that you never got to realize how even the brightest the world has to offer apparently don't hold a Candle to you. You become jaded. You become lazy. You become depressed. What's the point. Your life no longer has meaning.....until you realize that the meaning of your life was the very person you ran away from. The one who simultaneously terrified and inspired you, who pushed you to be the best. Your life was so much better then. You need to recapture that zeitgeist. You're terrified. You have so much love. Nobody makes you feel the way he does, nobody on this planet can compare-...but wait. That's your little brother. That's not quite right? Is it? You've never been in love. You've never connected to anyone else. Your scope of understanding on that point is narrow. You begin to misunderstand your own feelings based on the criteria you've been exposed to since goodness knows when.

Nobody else can ever understand.

Other people can never understand.

Nobody compares anyway.

They're ants compared to you, and compared to him?

Nothing at all.

Xxx

You thought you had it all - good looks, a good brain, athleticism. For a long time you were at the top of the hierarchy. You meet a beautiful girl. She loves you, you love her. The entire world is stretching in front of the two of you, mired in glorious green and hope. You want to give her a good life. And then you have children. The first one is intense and bright. He's able to comprehend so much it's scary but he's also still only a child. You can see it in how he acts, all that learning still to do, things not yet understood. You teach him. You're proud. But you're scared. His potential frightens you. But he's still your kid. And you're still his dad.

But then your second son happens. He's born with unnatural pink hair. In just days he's talking to you with his mind in full, perfect sentences. His hold on grammar is better than yours. His strength is keener than yours.

He has psychic powers.

But he's still your son. You're still his dad.

Only it doesn't feel that way at all. Your authority is in question constantly. You feel like you're looking at a grown man trapped within the unsettlingly coloured eyes of an infant. He's strange. He doesn't respect you. You lose grip. Your eldest, too, has taken note. He doesn't care about you much anymore, what you have to show and teach him. The both of you could be in this together but you're divided. And then you're moving, constantly. Your wife is all you have left in the world who cares about you. That hope you once held, the feeling of potential, it's gone. You've seen the universe. You looked into it. In return it looked into you.

It found you wanting.

Xxx

Your world used to be big. So big. So full.

Used to be.

You see your parents rarely but it's awkward and stressful when you do. Your friends? Left behind. You chose your family over them, it was the right thing to do. They don't reach out. You leave them to it.

In your home are three people. You love them with all your heart. They fulfill you endlessly. They're all good men. They love you in return.

But they hate each other.

You're an anchor tied between three directions. Pulled apart.

Then it's two.

It's easier. That makes you feel horrible.

Worse, you know eventually it'll only be one. Or maybe even none.

You're alone.

Where did you go?

Who are you anymore?

You know your husband and sons better than you know yourself.

Please don't let them ever leave you alone to those godforsaken four walls. Somehow they've become your whole world.

But then it's not. You haven't moved in a while. You've been able to make friends! Your youngest has too, thank god, the loneliness you're so afraid of is something you'd never want your littlest to experience.

But.

You open your mouth too big. Too wide. Too many times over. Your son has to swoop in and save you every time.

Loneliness was fine.

The guilt is so much worse.

[troybeecham]

Today, the Church remembers Saint Margaret of Scotland (Scots: Saunt Magret, c. 1045 – 16 November 1093 AD), also known as Margaret of Wessex, English princess and a Scottish queen.

Ora pro nobis.

Margaret was born in exile in the Kingdom of Hungary She was the sister of Edgar Ætheling, the shortly reigned and uncrowned Anglo-Saxon King of England. Margaret and her family returned to the Kingdom of England in 1057 AD, but fled to the Kingdom of Scotland following the Norman conquest of England in 1066 AD. By the end of 1070 AD, Margaret had married King Malcolm III of Scotland, becoming Queen of Scots.

Margaret was the daughter of the English prince Edward the Exile, and granddaughter of Edmund Ironside, King of England. After the Danish conquest of England in 1016 AD, King Canute the Great had the infant Edward exiled to the continent. He was taken first to the court of the Swedish king, Olof Skötkonung, and then to Kiev. As an adult, he travelled to Hungary, where in 1046 AD he supported the successful bid of King Andrew I for the Hungarian crown. King Andrew I was then also known as "Andrew the Catholic" for his extreme aversion to pagans and great loyalty to the Roman Catholic Church.

Still a child, she came to England with the rest of her family when her father, Edward the Exile, was recalled in 1057 as a possible successor to her great-uncle, the childless King Edward the Confessor. Whether from natural or sinister causes, her father died immediately after landing, and Margaret continued to reside at the English court where her brother, Edgar Ætheling, was considered a possible successor to the English throne. When Edward the Confessor died in January 1066, Harold Godwinson was selected as king, possibly because Edgar was considered too young. After Harold's defeat at the Battle of Hastings later that year, Edgar was proclaimed King of England, but when the Normans advanced on London, the Witenagemot presented Edgar to William the Conqueror, who took him to Normandy before returning him to England in 1068 AD, when Edgar, Margaret, Cristina, and their mother Agatha fled north to Northumbria, England.

According to tradition, the widowed Agatha decided to leave Northumbria, England with her children and return to the continent. However, a storm drove their ship north to the Kingdom of Scotland in 1068, where they sought the protection of King Malcolm III. The locus where it is believed that they landed is known today as St Margaret's Hope, near the village of North Queensferry, Fife, Scotland. Margaret's arrival in Scotland, after the failed revolt of the Northumbrian earls, has been heavily romanticized, though Symeon of Durham implied that her first meeting of Malcolm III may not have been until 1070, after William the Conqueror's Harrying of the North.

King Malcolm III was a widower with two sons, Donald and Duncan. He would have been attracted to marrying one of the few remaining members of the Anglo-Saxon royal family. The marriage of Malcolm and Margaret occurred in 1070 AD. Subsequently, Malcolm executed several invasions of Northumberland to support the claim of his new brother-in-law Edgar and to increase his own power. These, however, had little effect save the devastation of the County.

Margaret's biographer Turgot of Durham, Bishop of St. Andrew's, credits her with having a civilizing influence on her husband Malcolm by reading him narratives from the Bible. She instigated religious reform, striving to conform the worship and practices of the Church in Scotland to those of Rome. This she did on the inspiration and with the guidance of Lanfranc, a future Archbishop of Canterbury. She also worked to conform the practices of the Scottish Church to those of the continental Church, which she experienced in her childhood. Due to these achievements, she was considered an exemplar of the "just ruler", and moreover influenced her husband and children, especially her youngest son, the future King David I of Scotland, to be just and holy rulers.

"The chroniclers all agree in depicting Queen Margaret as a strong, pure, noble character, who had very great influence over her husband, and through him over Scottish history, especially in its ecclesiastical aspects. Her religion, which was genuine and intense, was of the newest Roman style; and to her are attributed a number of reforms by which the Church [in] Scotland was considerably modified from the insular and primitive type which down to her time it had exhibited. Among those expressly mentioned are a change in the manner of observing Lent, which thenceforward began as elsewhere on Ash Wednesday and not as previously on the following Monday, and the abolition of the old practice of observing Saturday (Sabbath), not Sunday, as the day of rest from labour. "The later editions of the Encyclopædia Britannica, however, as an example, the Eleventh Edition, remove Skene's opinion that Scottish Catholics formerly rested from work on Saturday, something for which there is no historical evidence. Skene's Celtic Scotland, vol. ii, chap. 8, pp. 348–350, quotes from a contemporary document regarding Margaret's life, but his source says nothing at all of Saturday Sabbath observance, but rather says St. Margaret exhorted the Scots to cease their tendency "to neglect the due observance of the Lord's day."

She attended to charitable works, serving orphans and the poor every day before she ate and washing the feet of the poor in imitation of Christ. She rose at midnight every night to attend the liturgy. She successfully invited the Benedictine Order to establish a monastery in Dunfermline, Fife in 1072 AD, and established ferries at Queensferry and North Berwick to assist pilgrims journeying from south of the Firth of Forth to St. Andrew's in Fife. She used a cave on the banks of the Tower Burn in Dunfermline as a place of devotion and prayer. St. Margaret's Cave, now covered beneath a municipal car park, is open to the public. Among other deeds, Margaret also instigated the restoration of Iona Abbey in Scotland. She is also known to have interceded for the release of fellow English exiles who had been forced into serfdom by the Norman conquest of England.

Margaret was as pious privately as she was publicly. She spent much of her time in prayer, devotional reading, and ecclesiastical embroidery. This apparently had considerable effect on the more uncouth Malcolm, who was illiterate: he so admired her piety that he had her books decorated in gold and silver. One of these, a pocket gospel book with portraits of the Evangelists, is in the Bodleian Library in Oxford, England.

Malcolm was apparently largely ignorant of the long-term effects of Margaret's endeavours, not being especially religious himself. He was content for her to pursue her reforms as she desired, which was a testament to the strength of and affection in their marriage.

Her husband Malcolm III, and their eldest son Edward, were killed in the Battle of Alnwick against the English on 13 November 1093 AD. Her son Edgar was left with the task of informing his mother of their deaths. Not yet 50 years old, Margaret died on 16 November 1093 AD, three days after the deaths of her husband and eldest son. The cause of death was reportedly grief. She was buried before the high altar in Dunfermline Abbey in Fife, Scotland.

O God, you called your servant Margaret to an earthly throne that she might advance your heavenly kingdom, and gave her zeal for your Church and love for-your people: Mercifully grant that we who commemorate her this day may be fruitful in good works, and attain to the glorious crown of your saints; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

#father troy beecham #christianity #troy beecham episcopal #father troy beecham episcopal #saints #jesus #god #salvation #peace

[derelictwritings]

A Guide to Sarovalia sample Chapter V- Commission for Stephen Sweeney

Fargo Bonebreaker had made good on his promise to deliver us to Urist and had even allowed us a stipend for our help with the great beast he had slain. It took us several weeks of sailing before we made birth at Tial, a small port town within The Runewoods region of Urist. The Runewoods are a sprawling forest eternally drenched in the bright, crisp colors of autumn. It is one of a number of provinces within The Kherois Empire, which stretches across the whole of Urist. The Runewoods are known for having a bustling, constantly busy society that is always producing, always creating things to be exported to the other regions of Urist. Tial is a moderately sized settlement that greets many who enter into Urist. Beyond the many offices, warehouses, and houses that make up this busy town, one can see the tree tops stretch infinitely into the distance. A river runs through the center of the town, The River Ris, and connects it to the capital of the province, Fenaris. Upon disembarking from the boat, a pair of armored guards stopped us in our tracks and asked that we pay a visitors fee required of all outsiders to the Empire. We paid them the small fee and were directed to the town hall in the center of Tial in order to acquire travelling papers so that we may be allowed to traverse the empire unimpeded. We soon realized that this trip would be an expensive endeavor.  I for one was incredibly grateful that Fargo had paid us at all. I doubt we would find much work suited for outsiders on Urist. Not that they gave the impression of a particularly prejudiced or xenophobic people, but a very insular and busy people that did not have time to give jobs to those outside of their society.

We made our way through the streets of Tial to the large hall in the center. The streets were abound with carts and people moving to and fro, transporting various goods and paperwork during the day. Much to do in a place like this so as to keep the town in good health and order. The people of Urist are predominantly shifters. They bear wolf, fox, cat, bear, and all manner of beast like features, but are a civilized and intelligent people. Most of the people of The Runewoods are people with small but busy lives. They often hold down multiple professions and often dabble in botany and alchemy. The crops the farm tend to themselves so as to afford them more time to be more industrious. Families in The runewoods tend to be fewer in number due to the amount of time they all spend working and growing everything around them.

When we found ourselves in the center of the town, we were confronted with a crowd of people all cramming in to the building. Each one had a number of concerns and items of business that the officials who governed this city had to attend to. We realized we would be waiting to wade through this show of imperial bureaucracy for some time. Not that I was going to complain. There were so many interesting people abound in this place, that I could scarcely count myself amongst the bored. There was a candlestick maker who was in need of a permit to expand his shop so that he could create a lab that would allow him to make fragrances. There was a smithy who sought to export his finely crafted swords to foreign lands and needed to have his wares inspected before being allowed out of the empire. He had a number of samples of his work, and though I am no swordsman or swordsmith, his craftsmanship was some of the most extravagant I have ever seen. Vera and Faen seemed just as impressed as myself. Additionally, I cannot forget the mage whose sole purpose for being there was because of an audience he had requested with the mayor of the city, which was still subject to approval, in order to make an audience with the governor’s head advisor which would allow him to meet with the governor himself in order to make a special request with his security council in order to provide fireworks for the upcoming winter solstice festival which was scheduled for eight months from next tuesday. Perhaps that was the most egregious display of inefficiency within the Kherois Empire I had witnessed at the time. Nonetheless, we persisted through the lines of people to acquire our paperwork.

The paperwork cost us nearly half of our remaining funds. Myself, Faen, and Vera all required different forms and scrolls to be signed by the magistrates in order to expedite the process as we were not merchants, foreign officials, celebrities of Urist, or otherwise important enough to have our further traversing through the country worth cheapening the price thereof. The drole and expensive affair somewhat dampened my mood from seeing and listening to so many interesting people within the town hall itself. So, with our hearts and minds now freed from the burden of convoluted paperwork, we decided to walk the streets and take in some of the sights and sounds of Tial. Needless to say, we spent our fair share within the taverns and amongst the merry folk who had been freed from their professions to cavort joyously.

Drink by drink we celebrated life amongst the Uristian peoples surrounding us, not concerned with our troubles. Faen and Vera seemed somewhat more cordial with each other. I remember drunkenly pulling Faen to the side and asking him what had occurred to make her forgive him for what she believed he had done to her dear friend. He explained that he did no harm to her friend. He fought him to first blood in a duel and lost. Her friend, for reasons unbeknownst to the Red Kobold, tossed him his sword and told him to tell the story of his glorious defeat. Vera’s friend said he was retired now and he never saw him again. Though Vera was heartbroken at her friend’s disappearance, she knew that Faen was far too prideful to tell such a self deprecating lie. I was inclined to agree.

I took in the warm earthy smells of spiced ales and whiskey’s, various pumpkin imbued breads and foods, and the sound of songs in the night. Everyone dressed in warm oranges and browns, purples and golds, cloaks and furs bouncing as people danced in the night. It all blended together as we partook in the merriment of The Runewoods. The three of us sank into a drunken blur. We awoke within in the last tavern we had stopped to visit the previous night. Our heads were sore, and I rummaged through our pure, still a little drunk mind you, to happily find that we still had enough funds to travel down The River Ris to Fenaris. I did not, in my absent mindedness, realize how little we would have left over for our journey. We took a ferry down the river once all three of us had become conscious enough to walk to the docks.

As we travelled up river to Fenaris, we could see how truly vast the oceans of forest were on either side of us. The incalculable number of orange, red, and gold leaves that cascaded down to the earth as the wind blew through the canopies flooded our senses. There was a serene luminescence about this place unlike any other place I have visited in my lifetime. To see nature encapsulated in an ever autumn shape was something I had never dreamed of. It allowed me to savor a season that, in most places of the world, is so finite or nonexistent that it fades into nothing. Urist is a place of everlasting images.

We arrived in Fenaris. The walls of the city encircled it like a coiled snake. Most cities of The Runewoods are build of concentric circles much like ancient trees whose rings encircle the oldest point. On the outside were docks, farmlands, and various gardens where the people of the city would collect materials for herbalistic and alchemical practices. Within the walls of the city, several districts of houses, markets, embassies, offices, magistrates, and barracks coalesced into a labyrinthine holding. The size of this city was intimidating to me at the time, to say the least. It rivalled nearly all of the settlements that I had encountered in Sarovalia at the time save for the city within the bones of Narokanzar near Wyrm’s Tooth Spire. Though, this city, upon our entry, seemed far less cluttered and densely packed.

All around us were Pumpkin lanterns lit with luminescent crystals. Crystals make up much of the decorations used by the Kherois Empire. They use them to light their way, heat furnaces, carve them into decorations, and make their jewelry. Crystals are mined frequently and have many properties to them which are useful to the people of Urist.

We wandered Fenaris after we had disembarked from our ferry for some time, looking for a suitable inn to make our stay at. When we had finally come to one that met our requirements as far as spaciousness and affordability, I opened our coin purse to find that we had not even half of what it would cost us to spend a single night. We were immediately in a quandary we had very little idea to solve. We took to the streets, thinking we could find jobs for ourselves. Faen and Vera could have easily made it as sellswords if the city were not so well protected by armed guards on the governor’s commission. I would have gladly found a press to write or perhaps edit for if all of them had not been family owned businesses rife with nepotism. We were destitute, broke, without a penny to our name in a city that was far removed from where any of us could comfortable call home.

We spent several days wandering the streets, attempting to not look like beggars as the guards would surely have put us away for that. Panhandling was difficult as Vera was the only one capable of doing so and not by any means inconspicuously. Such a profession no doubt required a permit of some sort in an imperial city such as Fenaris. Finally, we had some semblance of a stroke of luck working as dishwashers for a run down old bar on the southern side of the city. The southern side of Fenaris is not a particularly friendly place to find oneself. It is a place of economic disparity and criminal strife. Southern Fenaris is where good people fall through the cracks and endure the less savory parts of a civilized society governed by law and money.

While at this tavern, which mind you received its patronage from many a disreputable fellow and lass, we came across one of its regular customers. He was a well dressed Tabaxi who simply went by the name of Sleth. We had just gotten off of our shift when Sleth had decided to buy a round of drinks for everyone at the bar. Now, when I say he was a well dressed individual, I should point out that he wore fine materials but in a sort of shabby fashion unbecoming of a more lordly individual. Sleth wore his clothes as a poor man seeking to look rich would wore their finery. When he smirked, one sharpened gold tooth could be seen shining beneath his whiskers.

Sleth beckoned us to sit with him at the bar of the tavern where he ordered us all drinks and confessed that he had seen us working what he professed must have been slave wages at this establishment. He was not wrong. The Tabaxi spoke to us with a friendly tone and a whiskey smooth voice, and claimed that he had an easy albeit lucrative position for the three of us outsiders to fill. His employer, a personage who called himself The Wolf, was an art connoisseur that was in need of some extra helping hands willing to aid in his procurement of a specialty item which he had been desperately searching for to add to his collection for some several years. Sleth named a considerable sum of money which his employer was willing to offer us in exchange for our services in this matter.

Presented with the prospect of a well paying job that would likely set us up for the remainder of our time within The Runewoods, we quickly jumped at the opportunity. Faen seemed to be the only one with reservations claiming that something about Sleth and his employer itched his snout. Vera and I both told him not to worry as it was uncouth to be so suspicious of a working man’s generosity. I do not believe that you, dear reader, need be informed of the irony of our naive acceptance of this opportunity which we so blindly accepted.

We arranged to meet the other individuals tasked with acquiring the piece of art across the street from what appeared to be an old library towards the center of town. When we came upon the individuals with whom we were to be working, I grew wary about what kind of ‘help’ we were to be providing them with. The two Shifters, one bearing the features of a wolf while the other seemed to have more coyote features, wore dark cloaks that clearly were intended to hide a number of weapons on their person that became more obvious when closer to them. The one walf-like shifter bore a few facial scars. The pair of them looked exceedingly aggressive, and they told us that they would be entering the library to go about their work. They acted as though we knew precisely what we were supposed to do and had us wait outside of the library. There was a series of not so subtle implications about our employers that began to come together. There was clattering and clamouring to be heard from behind the windows and walls of the library, and the three of us became terribly worried that we may have enabled criminal activity that we could not walk away from without a guilty conscious.

So, we did the opposite of what our employer likely intended for us to do and called the guard to the aid of whomever was being accosted by our wouldbe coworkers. The armored guards charged into the library as we stood by and watched, not wanting to get involved due to a fear of further aggravating the situation. The two ruffians were hauled out of the library in chains by the guards. They spat and cursed and did all manner of struggling, but to no avail. Vera went in and found an elderly Longtooth Shifter sitting and tending to some minor injuries he had received from the two mercenaries. Faen and I followed. We inquired as to the old gentleman’s wellbeing and apologized profusely for the violence we had not realized was being wrought upon him. He seemed terribly mistrustful of us at first. He came around to understanding that our involvement in this particular scenario was clearly a misunderstanding brought on by a lack of knowledge as to who or what we were dealing with. He introduced himself as Savith Istafan. This library was where he did much of his scholarly pursuits. Savith, I realized at the time, was also a travelling storyteller who had a reputation for his works. I myself was, and still am, a bit of an admirer of his.

It took some time for us all to settle after such a jarring affair, but the old man seemed to be quite forgiving of our blunders. He too was young and naive when he had his first adventures as a traveller. He could not rebuke us for making similar mistakes that he had made all those years ago. Savith took some level of pity on us and our situation and offered to let us stay within his library so long as we did not take advantage of his hospitality. In the morning he did wish for all of us to make our way to the nearest guard precinct in order to make a statement and hopefully deal with the aftermath of what had occured. We stayed up late that night telling stories about the misadventures myself, Vera, and Faen had gone through. I told him of the places I had visited in Maristors, and he told us of his own tales.

The next morning, the four of us left to visit the city guard and tell them the whole story of what had occurred and how we had come to meet the broker working for The Wolf. The guards were familiar with the misdeeds of Sleth and his mercenaries, and they admitted that The Wolf was oft times both a problem as well as a benefactor for the city for many years. Many claimed to represent him though no one had ever really seen him. The governor had many failed attempts to both punish The Wolf for breaking the law and reward him for great acts of charity performed for the city. This mysterious figure was quite tough to deal with let alone apprehend, however, those that represented him were often caught. We struck a bargain with the guards. They did not threaten to jail us for our involvement in the attempted robbery of Savith’s library, however, they wished for our aid in Sleth’s capture.

We agreed to help locate him and set up a meeting that would allow for the guard to arrest him. Once more we went to the tavern of ill repute where we had previously met him and left a message with the bar keep in order to make contact with the slimy Tabaxi. The message gave a time and place down the block where we would meet and discuss the job which we had failed to complete. We made the statement that we offered the most sincere of apologies and wished to make up for our failure in any way possible. He took the note and the last of our coin as a bribe to pass it along. At that point we had but to inform the city guard and wait in position for the broker to arrive and meet with us.

Arrive he did and he brought two very large, very mean looking, and very armed mercenaries along with him. It as late at night and all that lit the way were the pumpkin lamp lights lining the city streets above us. Normally they were beautiful and festive, but in this particular circumstance we found the lights to be an uncomfortable addition to the already sinister visage of Sleth and his thugs. Sleth demanded we explain and gave us a very short amount of time to do so. Unbeknownst to him, a dozen guards were hiding about the perimeter waiting for the appropriate moment to ambush him and his men. I grew nervous as I stammered through excuses. Vera and faen both began reaching for weapons. Sleth’s eyes narrowed with scrutiny and frustration. One of his goons picked his nose absentmindedly.

The guard sprung their trap just as Sleth was about to give the order to have his men overtake us. It was not a moment too soon, but I sincerely wish that they had done so sooner, as my lungs felt as though they were trying to scamper out of my mouth and run down the street. Sleth nearly escaped as his two henchmen were easily overwhelmed and subdued as the point of twelve well sharpened swords. He made it around the block before his cloak was caught on the end of a cart which gave way and knocked him flat on his rear. Served the bastard right. The guards took him and his men in and we waved goodbye to our former employer, but did not feel relieved at his ominous warnings of what became of those who crossed The Wolf and those who served him.

We returned to Savith’s library and informed him that justice had been duly served to the individual responsible for his assault. He was happy to hear the news, but seemed somewhat agitated by Sleth’s warnings of recompense being sought out by The Wolf. Savith, seeming to take yet more pity on us for our current predicament offered us a generous sum of money as reward for aiding him. Normally, I would have refused such a large reward, but in this situation we had found ourselves, I find that the old adage ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ rang deafeningly true. Savith told us it was unlikely that he would find much trouble with The Wolf. It was unlikely that he would attempt to prey upon a mark twice. He cautioned us that it was unlikely that we had heard the last from the mastermind.

We stayed one more night with Savith as we plotted out our journey east to the Greenlands. Vera and Faen seemed to sleep soundly enough, while I myself felt to nervous at the prospect of dealing with whatever wrath a well established rogue such as The Wolf would have in store for us.

#My writing #Commissions #Sample Chapter #Fiction #dungeons and dragons #my art

[realtalk-princeton]

Calcifer and Alito, whats been your experience being asian at princeton?

Response by Alito:

1. I never said I was Asian lol. What made you assume that? I could be a Black/White/Hispanic person that could have been adopted by Asian parents or something along those lines lol.

2. Most of my friends and associates are white (or at least not Asian) and I’m not in any “Asian-identity” clubs. Number one, I don’t really like how insular (or put it a nice way, “tight”) some of them are. I’m not saying that’s bad, but I want to hang out with a more diverse group of people during my Princeton career of all ethnicities and viewpoints. Unfortunately, in a campus which is more stratified than I would like to be and had expected it to be, this is unfortunately somewhat difficult. 

Number two, most Asians here are very apolitical or lean left, so I don’t think the clubs I am involved in have much pull for them lol. As a result, I don’t think I am qualified to answer this question.

3. I still haven’t confirmed if I am Asian. 

Edit: Sorry if anyone has taken offense due to my previous wording, but personally I don’t like being assumed about my identity, and I consider race to be a very, very insignificant part of who I am. 

Response from Calcifer:

I’m not too sure exactly what “experience being Asian” amounts to, but I would say I’ve had a pretty damn good experience in my first year here.

The high school that I went to in SoCal was big (3000+ students) and can give Princeton a run for its money in terms of diversity, but ethnic cliques were very real for a variety of reasons. Most of my high school friends were Asian American, and that’s partially due to the fact that most of the academically high-achieving students were Asian. In hindsight, academically, my high school was quite stratified. I was able to maintain a handful of friendships with non-Asian friends, and that was generally an exception among Asians as much as I could tell.

Princeton, for me, is basically my high school but even more diverse especially in terms of religions and nationalities, and much, much better integration between students of different demographics. Racial cliques exist at Princeton as well, but I personally found it exceptionally easy to make friends with quite literally anyone of any background, which is remarkable. Personally, my Princeton friends definitely have a very wide-ranging set of demographics, which is very very different from the friends I have back home. I’m not judging anyone, but I do feel as if Asian students at Princeton are somewhat more likely to form racial cliques than students of other ethnicities, though this is purely based on my own limited perceptions so please take it as no more than a grain of salt. In general, I think it’s pretty easy to make friends at Princeton as an Asian student no matter if you are the type to mostly hang around with only other Asians or if you are like me and have a very diverse group of friends. You do you, pal.

I’m a straight Asian guy without any particular religious affiliations, and I very much appreciate the chance to make friends with people who are distinct from me in one or more of those characteristics. Growing up in a country with practically non-existent diversity not just in terms of ethnicity but also religion, I try not to take the variety of great people I can meet at Princeton and the States in general for granted. A lot of kids in the Anglosphere grew up with racial diversity as the norm, so they are used to it, but once in a while I still take a moment to remember that it’s pretty freaking glorious that I get to easily meet people from Japan, Colombia, the U.K. and everywhere else and how different it is from seeing just straight Han Chinese faces in a class of 50 kids.

I’m not sure if that helps much at all, so please feel free to resubmit with something more specific.

Response by Alito

Re: Calcifer

Yeah. I’m not religious too (parents are also not as religious) and personally, I was surprised to find a lot of Asians are Christian. Maybe that’s also a reason why I don’t really connect with a lot of Asians here.

[hernehillandy]

Balkan beauty: restaurant review of Peckham Bazaar

THE insularity of many London neighbourhoods is notorious – and Herne Hill is one of the most villagey of the lot. Even after living there 20 years, I am completely lost in Peckham, a 15-minute bus ride east. But what has finally made me ashamed of this fact is my discovery of the fantastic Peckham Bazaar  around six whole years after it first opened.

The restaurant advertises itself as a “pan-Balkan mezze and grill” – but that comes nowhere close to describing the sophistication of this food. The inspiration for the daily-changing menu of smallish plates is drawn from Greece, Turkey, Albania and the former Yugoslav states, as is the wine list (of which more later). But this is not Greek, Turkish or (thank God) Serbian food. And it’s all executed with a freshness and zing to the flavours that call to my mind the best of Lebanese mezze rather than their Turkish or Greek variants.

Thus “baked feta, marinated beetroot, skordalia, walnut, capers, chicory” has pretty clear Greek influences but is greater than the sum of its parts. Kourkoubines are a kind of small, filled pasta from the island of Evia and around: but I’m not sure locals would recognise Peckham Bazaar’s incredible take on them with roasted butternut squash, caramelised cauliflower and aged graviera cheese.

And as for the fabulously tender marinated grilled octopus, served with baba ganoush and onion and parsley salad: I yield to no-one in my chauvinism for things Greek but this was simply way better than any octopus I’ve had in Greece (or anywhere else, in fact.)

There is similar brilliant invention in dishes drawing inspiration from further afield. Pastilla is a glorious Moroccan pigeon/chicken pie: but the lamb neck, almond and prune pastillas here (served with with celeriac puree, soft-boiled quail’s egg, treviso and herbs) have travelled a very long way from Marrakesh. Likewise the Egyptian stuffed quail with chickpea, apricot and saffron tagine.

We ordered almost the whole menu – there were five of us, there to celebrate my birthday. Suffice to say that when we had finished the last dish – slow-braised shoulder of Welsh spring lamb, gigantes plaki, marinated peppers, ktipiti (red pepper-cheese dip) - we were blissfully sated. (Others in the group were possibly less full, since they then order and raved about the desserts.)

As for the wines, this is a fascinating and idiosyncratic list ranging from Italy to Georgia, though with Croatia and Greece as its mainstays. We enjoyed Dafnios liatiko 2016, a fairly obscure Cretan red from Douloufakis Winery, and Vina Skaramuča plavac mali 2016, a red from Dalmatia. More unusual still are the wines from Ktima Ligas, a natural Greek producer in Pella, to the north east of Naoussa. Their Xi-Ro is a highly unusual red-white blend of 90 per cent xinomavro and 10 per cent roditis: aromatic and complex. As for Ligas’s “orange” Pata Trava xinomavro 2017, I don’t know quite how they regulate skin contact to get this delicately coloured a wine with so little oxidation, but it’s serious: fragrant and quite haunting.

Peckham Bazaar also serves Greek beers from the excellent Septem craft brewery on Evia, and a fine non-aniseed tsipouro (Greek grappa). I’d have gladly lingered over a second or third glass of the latter in these very relaxed surroundings but more sensible heads prevailed. I’ll just have to return soon.

Peckham Bazaar, 119 Consort Rd, SE15. 020 7732 2525.

Non-plate pics are from restaurant website. Rubbish ones of dishes: mine

24 April 2019

#greekfood #kebabs #wine

[theironreaches]

WBJ - Catch up History #4

History of the Iron Reaches

The known history of the Iron Reaches region spans hundreds of thousands of years, extending back into the misty epochs of the dragons, giants, and the first nations of elves and dwarves. Comparatively recent history is the story of the rise and deeds of humans.

Much of what follows in this section is known mainly by sages amongst the elves, other races have shorter attention to histories. The common folk across the continent have little knowledge of, and little use for, events that have transpired far away in time and space.

The Songs of Creation

There are many creation myths throughout the people and histories of the Iron Reaches, however, all hold that the creation of Zeru came about unintentionally. In the myths of Orden for example, while creating a great axe at the forge, a globule of molten iron fell from the blade as it was struck, slowly spinning and cooling as it passed from the celestial realms into the material plane, it became the world of Zeru. As other sparks and chips fell from the blade creatures sprang into being. When the blade was quenched and water splashed down, the oceans arose, and so on.

These myths all have in common a sort of disregard of the world of Zeru from the deities, as if their intentions were always elsewhere.

The Song of Dragons – 200,000 P.K.

There are myths of a time when dragons ruled the world, where primordial magic beyond reckoning was unleashed, and alien societies of these beasts beyond measure existed. At least two hundred thousand years ago, dragons were the first race of sentient beings to rise into a civilization. They had a society that spanned the young world of Zeru for perhaps a hundred thousand years. No one knows why they disappeared or where they went. They built no great cities, left no monuments, their legacy remains only in the most ancient of myths. Even the dragons that remain in Zeru will not speak of this time or they do not know what transpired.

The Song of Chaos – 100,000 P.K.

Regardless of why the dragons left, what they left in their wake was a world sent into chaos. Volcanos churned massive spumes of acrid smoke into the skies, oceans leapt with titanic fury, the land heaved and split and reformed, and terrible storms swept entire regions of life. Great beings of pure elemental power walked the land thriving the natural chaos around them. They formed no civilizations, no societies, as they were content in the majesty of the primal forces that ravaged the land.

Ten thousand years the world spent in chaos. Slowly, the world calmed and the primordial beings disappeared back to their elemental planes. It is said that the first of the giants descend from these elemental powers.

The Song of Titans – 100,000 P.K.

The first civilization of any record is that of the giants, a hundred thousand years past. Beings descended from elemental powers, they wielded their gifts to build great cities that floated through the skies or flourished deep in the ocean depths. They tamed the great lizards that some say descended from the first dragons. They chiselled their histories onto great stone edifices, built monuments to their kings and gods, and shaped the world at their whim.

Their kingdoms lasted for tens of thousands of years, yet it came to a sudden end some fifty thousand years ago. Perhaps their wars reached a terrible conclusion or they grew too lofty and challenged the gods themselves and were struck down. Whatever the reason, the remains of their civilizations can still sometimes be found in the ruins of mountains or underseas. None of their great sky cities have ever been found. The giants themselves have been sent into decline, disappearing into far off edges of the wild, a shadow of their former glory.

The Song of Silence – 50,000 P.K.

After the fall of the giants, there was an age of quiet. The land reclaimed the monuments of the giants. Beasts flourished and the world became wilderness. Centuries of deep cold and stifling heat and humidity alternated for the course of millenia. For perhaps ten thousand years, the time of beasts and nature flourished untouched by civilization of any kind.

The Song of Ascendance – 30,000 P.K.

Over the course of ten thousand years, from the ruins of the giants and great wilds, arose the first nations of the Ascendant People–elves and dwarves.

The dwarf clans united as the nation of Dalordael, building great undercities spanning leagues beneath the surface. Their forges driven by the very heat of the earth, they accomplished exceptional feats of engineering, crafted magnificent treasures, and drove the dangerous beasts of the underdark into the farthest reaches.

The elves formed three nations Alarensyl, Esseand, and Vionioryll. They settled in forests where the trees reached the clouds, in glorious cities of delicate spires, and majestic temples nestled in the mountains. They explored the seas and skies in magically wrought ships, wrote treatises of deep magic and knowledge, and crafted beautiful works of art.

The Ascendant People flourished, and warred amongst themselves, and formed millennia of peace. It was an imperfect time but an age of great knowledge and growth.

War of Seven Songs  – 15,000 P.K.

In the first days of the War of Seven Songs tens of thousands of elves and dwarves died as miasmas of shadow swept through their cities leaving nothing living in their wake. Not knowing what had attacked them, the leaders of the elves and dwarves united in defense. The second wave of attacks were met by blade and hammer, sorcery and machine, and the first time their attackers were seen for the first time.

Alien creatures which the Ascendant People came to call Shades, multilimbed and capable of terrible devastation even alone, the creatures would appear deep within elven or dwarven territory. When it was discovered that they possessed gates which allowed them to travel between their world and Zeru, the elves and dwarves developed great mystical machines to block travel between realms across great swathes of the land.

The War of Seven Songs raged on and off for two thousand years, brief centuries of peace were found where the cities and people rebuilt, yet the Shades would return eventually. The war ended when a brave cadre of elves and dwarves, aided by a powerful artifact recovered from the age of giants, ventured into the realm of the Shades where they captured the remaining Gates of Shadow, cutting the Shades off from traveling to Zeru.

With the war over after two milennia, the nations of the elves began to decline, for their purpose and songs were broken after too many years of constant violence. Many of the elven people simply left, departing to the Feywild or other realms. The dwarves, resolute and strong with a renewed faith in Orden began to rebuild but their numbers never fully recovered.

The Song of Humanity – 9,000 P.K.

Ten thousand years ago, as the Ascendent People declined in the wake of the War of Seven Songs, humans began to spread out across the world. Their birth as a race is said to have come from the tears shed by the deity Raseri, a rare act by a deity in the world of Zeru.

At first they traveled in small nomadic groups, shying away from the elder races. Eventually small villages and towns were formed as the remaining elves and dwarves helped guide the young race into their own. Fishing villages became ports, towns became cities, and soon nations of humans had spread across the land. Amongst them one fishing village turned city stands brightest in history.

Radiant Evenal – 4,000 P.K.

The city of Evenal is spoken of in nearly all myths of this age. A marvel of a city leagues across, the Tower of Radiance standing at its center. It was the heart of commerce and innovation, great works blending magic and engineering were born here. When the nations around it waged war, Evenal stood untouched. The world revolved around the city, gates connecting far lands allowed near instantaneous travel across thousands of leagues. Legends of it go back thousands of years before the Sundering.

The Grey Tide – 1,000 P.K.

Clashes with Orcs were common in the years of this age, yet they often fought amongst themselves, keeping them from becoming a greater threat to the many nations of humanity. That is until, Nakrug, a cunning priest of their god Gruumsh slew the various tribal leaders and united them under a single banner two thousand years past.

The Grey Tide crashed out over the mountains of the west, pillaging and burning farms and villages as they went. Many of the human cities were besieged and their forces deeply outnumbered, the days looked dark. Emissaries were sent to the elves of Esseand and the dwarves of Dalordael, a last hope for the Ascendant People had become withdrawn and insular.

City after city fell to the Grey Tide, hope was nearly lost as the dark hordes approached Evenal. As dusk came, brilliant slashes of starlight cut through the skies overhead of the assembled forces of humanity and the earth trembled beneath them. From the gates of starlight emerged elven skyships led by the First Sword on a silver dragon, from the earth erupted great machines of war driven by dwarven engineers. The battle raged for a full twelve-day. Upon its last morning, the warlord Nakrug was felled from his warbeast, and the Grey Tide was routed.

After the war with the orcs, human, dwarf, and elf forged new bonds of allegiance and companionship. The cities of the Ascendant People were opened to humanity for the first time and knowledge and commerce flowed free across the land.

The Sundering

A catastrophic event of proportions perhaps only rivaled by the destruction of the age of giants, whatever was its cause it began slowly, accelerating rapidly until it destruction came on a global level.

It is uncertain exactly how long the Sundering lasted, but most sages of history estimate it to have lasted half a century. The earth swallowed whole nations and thrust new mountains forth. Terrible wind storms devoured cities. Seas dried up. Poles shifted and ice engulfed verdant forests and farmland. The very threads of magic that held the weave together were torn apart.

What remnants of humanity survived did so in pockets of light amidst great darkness, clinging to the trappings of buried civilizations. The great undercities of the dwarves were devastated by cave-ins and collapses, forcing the dwarves to shallower depths. The already diffuse kingdom of the elves became more isolated, forming into loose caravans.

The Present Age – 0 A.S.

Out of the Sundering crawled humanity. Entering a dark age where people struggled to survive in a world reshaped, they abandoned the trappings of the civilizations in rubble and started anew. The terrible disasters had ended, yet the weave of magic had become fragile making arcane spellcasting dangerous.

Most humans know little from even the early years of the present age, while elves and dwarves long lifespans afford a broader view of time.

Whitegate Reborn - 118 A.S.

The first light of civilization shined when the dwarf clans resurfaced, claiming the abandoned city of Whitegate for themselves. The Dynasty of Jewels quickly rose to power establishing law and order on the surface. Humans and dwarves alike made their home within the ancient walls.

Silver Isles Rise - 274 A.S.

The people of a small fishing village on the southernmost tip of the Iron Reaches awoke one morning to see great silver spires gleaming over what the day before had been unbroken sea. Adventurers soon traveled out to the spires finding the untouched shell of lost island cities. Quickly becoming a busy port, the Silver Isles were born.

Trade Guild Incorporated - 379 A.S.

The name of person who founded the company that became the Trade Guild has been lost to time. At first a meager merchant company which traveled the long roads between Whitegate, the Silver Isles, and the few other outposts of civilization. They secured the first contract bringing goods between Whitegate and the young city of Hyrum. Once Aranth was discovered in the forests outside of Hyrum, the Trade Guild was vaulted to power as they secured the trade rights to the many Aranth farms there.

The House Aurelan - 412 A.S.

As the various rising city states of in the midlands of the Iron Reaches gained power various noble houses rose along with them. One, the house Aurelan, rose faster and stronger than the others funded by the discovery of lucrative iron mines beneath Eyrum. In a brilliant series of political manuevers, the house Aurelan brought the city states and their surrounding lands together, and claimed the throne establishing Fairweit as a nation.

War of Iron - 592 A.S.

As the Trade Guild gained ever more control in the Iron Reaches, they sought to expand their domain. Sending ships beyond the continent to the Southern Reaches, they hoped to claim much of the land as their own. An unexpected resistance was met, mustered by the local population, so the Trade Guild formed the Guild of Iron and sent them to war. Using their power and control over those indebted to them, they filled the ranks of the Guild of Iron with those who owed them coin or bought those who would fight for it.

Despite the continued deaths of thousands in the Trade Guilds war, the Guild of Iron became a tough and tight knit organization, the bonds of war running deeper than that of blood. After twenty years in a tractless war, the Trade Guild stopped receiving word from the front lines. All communication was lost for nearly a year. Then the great fleet of warships descended upon Hyrum flying a flag the Iron Reaches had not seen before. The Guild of Iron had returned on their own terms.

The Trade Guild sent emissaries and great riches in an attempt to buy the Guild of Iron back into their service, yet they were rebuked. The Guild of Iron became an organization unto itself. No longer at the behest of the mercantile interests of the Trade Guild, they took contracts they deemed honorable becoming a formidable mercenary company.

War of Hours - 743 A.S.

When a vicious attack on the royal house of Aurelan left Fairweit leaderless, the Houses went into a frenzy. Accusing each other of the foul deed, mercenaries and troops were rallied and the Houses marched onto the Golden Plains. As the armies charged into battle, a dark storm descended upon the collected houses filled with terrible creatures. Led by the warlord Ad'ren the Iron Terror, the houses left behind their accusations and suspicions, the young leaders of their houses rallied together and their armies faced the darkness.

It is said the warlord Ad'ren fell to a young knight of House Evrath causing the ranks of the dark storm to break and be driven back.

Once the wounded were tended and the field of battle left behind, the heads of the noble houses came together and created the Council of Nine abolishing the monarchy that founded Fairweit.

Present Day - Ordusk, 857 A.S.

#world building june #wbj2017 #the iron reaches #D&D #dungeons and dragons

[medproish]

With the great Elisabeth Moss leading the way, Hulu’s Emmy-winning breakout drama continues on a dark path even without Margaret Atwood’s plot to steer it.

For the past few months, since I started watching second season screeners from Hulu’s The Handmaid’s Tale, whenever somebody asked how the new episodes were, my stock answer was: “Dark.”

That was inevitably greeted by a face somewhere between a wince and eager anticipation, an expression that perfectly encapsulated how many people felt about the Emmy-winning drama’s first season. People’s general willingness to rave about Elisabeth Moss’ performance, Bruce Miller’s solid capturing of Margaret Atwood’s themes and the glorious series-establishing direction by Reed Morano was almost always followed by, “But it’s such a hard show to watch” or “It hurts too much to binge.”

Part of why The Handmaid’s Tale hit as hard as it did when it premiered last spring was that it was a bracing splash of salt poured upon a collective wound felt by its target audience. We’re 12 months later and those wounds haven’t magically healed, and the news that the new season of The Handmaid’s Tale is “dark” amounted to slamming the salt shaker on the table.

Embargo now passed, I can add that in addition to being dark, the first six episodes of the new season are very, very good, something nobody could have taken for granted with Miller and company moving farther and farther from Atwood’s source material (and with Morano too busy with a burgeoning feature career to return behind the camera this time around). With Moss again leading the way, The Handmaid’s Tale continues to thrive in many of the same emotional, yet soaringly beautiful, ways it succeeded last year — though several key flaws remain unimproved and are sometimes even exacerbated because everything else around them is so good.

The premiere, hitting Hulu on April 25, begins with a sequence as harrowing as anything the show has done before. Offred/June (Moss) and a group of her fellow handmaids are transported, disorientingly, to a holding pen where they’re muzzled and herded by armed guards out into the middle of a Boston landmark, once beloved but now a staging area for a long row of gallows. Like many of this season’s best moments, the scene is almost dialogue free and sold on the flitting uncertainty in Offred’s eyes, at once terrified and broken and yet simultaneously fierce.

Were I to point to an early theme in this season, it’s the continued identity gap between Offred, enslaved and pregnant with a child destined for Commander Waterford (Joseph Fiennes) and his menacingly angelic wife Serena (Yvonne Strahovski), and June, too long separated from daughter Hannah and husband Luke (O. T. Fagbenle), safely in Canada with June’s friend Moira (Samira Wiley). The more we learn about the protagonist in flashbacks, featuring Cherry Jones as her social activist mother, and in the present as Offred continues to look for avenues toward freedom, the more we see that there are consequences that come with being June.

The results are dark and often miserable, even when The Handmaid’s Tale offers fleeting glimmers of hope, and any time you think the descent has stopped, the show finds a new murky place to go, with the fourth and fifth episodes offering fresh levels of thrilling discomfort. That’s a lot of plot happening thus far in the second season, and one of the best ways to cut through the despair is for it to move at a fast pace, which so far it does.

Geographically, The Handmaid’s Tale is opening up beyond the ironically counter-revolutionary prison of what used to be Boston and the freedom of Canada. After it being discussed last season, the show takes us out of the city to the Colonies, which offer an interesting sort of relief, not because they’re happier than urban Gilead, but because directors Mike Barker and Kari Skogland take the opportunity to introduce a new visual language. The Colonies are a Gulag-meets-Deadwood arid frontier of big skies, a burnt-out color palette and new rules and structures to expand the universe.

The more places we see and the more people we meet, the more we see how the persecution of Gilead extends past women — how homosexuality and basic religious and intellectual freedoms have been curtailed, too. There’s an attempt to be intersectional, to break with some of the insularity of the first season, that’s admirably if not always smoothly handled. The Lost-esque (Or Orange Is The New Black-esque, if you prefer) flashback structure, filling in different backstories or histories with each episode, feels more obvious this season in the points it’s trying to make and the contrasts or comparisons it’s trying to underline. Fortunately, the advantage of limited streaming seasons is that The Handmaid’s Tale is still far from over-explaining the dystopic universe or its primary characters, but I can already sense the danger in demystifying the show’s high sci-fi trappings. The varied threats of Donald Trump’s America have already imposed a specificity and weight on what could have once been a catch-all allegory.

Moss is still a marvel, only improving as pregnancy and increased jeopardy heighten Offred’s circumstances. I think she’s directly responsible for the sparse dialogue of these new episodes as the writers have discovered that you don’t need to spell things out when you can just hold on Moss’ face and let conflict play wordlessly. The same is true of Alexis Bledel, like Moss a deserving Emmy winner last year, who gets to be the centerpiece of the scenes in the Colonies. I do lament a decrease in the voiceover-driven dark humor that was so integral to the tonal variety of the first season. It’s not gone entirely; it just feels reduced.

If Bledel and Moss were last year’s awards darlings, Strahovski seems poised to join them this year. Serena is such a complicatedly unlikable creature, an ice queen capable of both affecting softness and petty viciousness. The clash of Strahovski’s guarded menace and Moss’ open accessibility is always a pleasure to watch. Throw in Anne Dowd, also an Emmy winner last year and getting even more screen time this season, and you only slightly miss that the first six episodes are too light on Wiley’s Moira.

Criticizing the show’s men is tricky. On one hand, it’s not their story and keeping Fiennes’ Commander and Max Minghella’s Nick one-dimensional is a choice. They should feel grateful they have names. But man, they’re boring, and yet they keep getting screen time and every once in a while the show unsuccessfully asks you to care about what Commander or Nick is up to.

But even if those characters and performances are inert, those are the moments when you can just concentrate on what is probably TV’s most breathtakingly shot show. For all of the returning stars and writers and directors, cinematographer Colin Watkinson practically deserves equal billing at this point. There are composed tableaus in these first episodes that are purely painterly, examinations of color — the aquamarines and handmaid reds of Ane Crabtree’s costumes are the standouts — and space, dangerously tight close-ups or spatially challenging long shots, but sometimes I can just fixate on a stray shaft of light or the drifting particulate in the air for minutes at a time. Mark White and Elisabeth Williams keep finding new, exquisitely detailed sets for the show to occupy, locations that are familiar and yet alien.

The Handmaid’s Tale probably isn’t a show likely to win new fans. There are plenty of viewers who might dislike its heavy-handed politics or its literary liberties or that twisting in the gut that comes from so much internal and external suffering. For those wh enjoy the agony, just brace yourself for that return to darkness.

Cast: Elisabeth Moss, Samira Wiley, Joseph Fiennes, Yvonne Strahovski, Max Minghella, Ann Dowd, Madeline Brewer, Alexis Bledel, Samira Wiley

Adapted by: Bruce Miller from the book by Margaret Atwood

Premieres April 25 on Hulu.

Let’s block ads! (Why?)

Source link

The post 'The Handmaid's Tale' Season 2: TV Review appeared first on trend views word.

#IFTTT #WordPress