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tarnishedinquirer · 5 days

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Highroad Cave

Underneath Saintsbridge, I found the origin of the Murkwater River. It However, even by the standards of this crazy land, it makes no goddamn sense. For the third time, it sinks into the earth and emerges below a cliff, but when I followed it all the way to the source, I found it just.. starts. There's a stone barrier, and then the inland sea. The actual running fresh water just appears right at that barrier. It's impossible.

While pondering this, I noticed a cave pretty well hidden behind some trees. Well, time to go caving again. You never know what you're going to find.

A hole. I found a hole.

Following the advice of runes, I jumped down, and landed on a flat surface. Completely flat, aside from debris. I looked around with slowly dawning horror as I recognized that octagonal shape. It was one of the pillars I'd seen near the coast. Smaller, maybe, but of the same design.

I standing on the pillars of the earth.

I reached the bottom and continued towards a light. A pack of wolves had made their home here, but they were not trouble. But at the center of their den, I found another hole, with more pillars. How deep did this go?

After jumping from pillar to pillar, descending to an interminable depth, I emerged into a larger cave. A cave with campfires. I was not alone down here.

Next to the campfire, I found the corpse of a Kaidan sellsword, being picked apart by wolves. I find it hard to believe that they could bring down one of those stout warriors, so something else must've done the deed.

Traveling further into the cave, I faced more wolves, and found one of them picking apart the corpse of a giant bat.

Ah. I can more believe that. The wolves might be able to bring a bat down, but the Kaidan weapons would be too slow, and they have no recourse about the bat's ability to attack from a distance.

I emerged into a vast cavern. Waterfalls poured into a central basin. Did all the underground rivers pass through here? It was surrounded by broken columns, upon which perched a colony of giant bats.

At the center was a circular platform. A broken walkway lead who knows where. However, since the walkway only led away from this platform, it seemed like this was the endpoint of the path. Perhaps this was once some holy place, deep in the earth? A place for meditation? Whatever it was, its purpose was long gone. There was a treasure here, but only carried by some noble. Though...if it was here, perhaps he found it somewhere else in this same ancient mithraeum?

A shamshir. A curved sword with a graceful, dancing style. The blade was pale, almost silvery steel, though it had a slight patina of rust in parts.

I continued through a series of jumps across submerged columns, and found more corpses of dead sellswords. The larger cave looked like the site of a massacre. Whatever had killed so many strong warriors must be truly fearsome indeed.

Oh. It was a land squid.

To be fair to the deceased, these things had proven my end more than once. Their wild flailing and nigh-invulnerable rubbery bodies could be fearsome until you knew how to fight them, and most people didn't get to attempt as many times as I had.

I took care of it, and continued my journey into the earth. Eventually, I was confronted with a golden fog door. and I stepped through.

It was impossible to determine what this room was originally for. Aqueducts? Walkways? The structures were too ruined to make sense of. What I could make sense of, however, was the golem lying moribund in the water. It sluggishly stood up as I approached, as if struggling to reignite the fire within.

It was not ideal fighting one in such close quarters, but I made do and eventually it fell like the others I've faced. In its hand was a tiny charm. A simple cloth doll, that nonetheless carried a magic to it. Can a golem be sentimental? Or was it just the magic that it was protecting?

A cloth doll depicting a dancer garbed in blue. An ancient heirloom of some sort. The dancer in blue represents a fairy, who in legend bestowed a flowing sword upon a blind swordsman. Blade in hand, the swordsman sealed away an ancient god - a god that was Rot itself.

Intriguing. So many characters introduced with a single item. A Blue Dancer. A blind swordsman. A god of Rot. I had not heard of any of this before. Though...could it be related to the Scarlet Rot that poisons the Confessors' bolts? I will have to be on the lookout for any more information regarding these characters.

However, I am certain that the shamshir sword is related to this blind swordsman. His weapon, or perhaps a replica.

Who was the blue dancer?

Who was the blind swordsman?

What happened to the God of Rot once sealed away?

What was this ancient chamber used for?

Where did the collapsed walkway lead?

What were the sellswords searching for? The sword, the talisman, or something else?

#elden ring #elden ring lore #in character #in character blog #in character post #let's play

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handeaux · 4 months

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For Half A Century, Cincinnati Goldfish Thrived Because Of Our Untreated Water

Just south of the Mount Airy water towers lies a large, grass-covered lawn with a small playground tucked away in the corner. No historic marker identifies this plot, although it is an important site in the history of a long-forgotten Cincinnati industry. For fifty years, up until the 1970s, this meadow was occupied by a dozen ponds filled with goldfish because Cincinnati was among the largest producers of goldfish in the United States. It's true. Here is the Cincinnati Enquirer [4 August 1929]:

“Few of the people who buy fish realize that Cincinnati is one of the centers for goldfish breeding. More than 100 goldfish breeding ponds surround Cincinnati within a radius of 15 miles. Many of these are transient, the owner raising stock during the season and draining the pond during the winter, but several of them almost outdistance Japanese rivals in quality and output.”

It was estimated that Cincinnati pet stores sold nearly 5,000 goldfish every day in the late 1920s, most locally raised. Twenty years later, according to the Cincinnati Post [30 April 1946] Maryland was the largest producer of goldfish in the United States, but second place was held by southwest Ohio and southeast Indiana. At that time, according to the Post, there were approximately 50 permanent goldfish breeding ponds in the Cincinnati region.

Goldfish were first introduced to Cincinnati in the later 1850s and Cincinnatians soon became avid collectors. The first vendors to sell goldfish in Cincinnati were florists who appeared to think of these colorful fish as an adjunct to home décor, sort of a living bouquet, if you will.

Goldfish thrived in Cincinnati because our water supply was pumped unfiltered and untreated straight from the Ohio River. Cincinnati goldfish fanciers developed the opinion that goldfish never needed to be fed, because Cincinnati’s water was so loaded with worms and other tiny critters. A local newspaper, the Star In The West [19 November 1859] chastised those who did not feed their goldfish:

“Every other pet is expected to eat, but these gold-carp are expected to subsist on – nothing! ‘But don’t they eat the animalculae?’ Nonsense! Give them a few small earthworms, or anglers’ gentles, twice a week.”

Despite such advice, the belief persisted that Ohio River water contained enough living matter to feed our finny friends. The Cincinnati Gazette [17 March 1875] in a column about goldfish, insisted that “small worms, such as are common to the water, suffice for their food in general.” It appears that our ancestors were perfectly happy to quaff tap water in which small worms (or animalculae) were common!

Wormy or not, Ohio River water was clear enough to cause household hazards, as the Cincinnati Star [8 January 1875] reported:

“A goldfish globe, filled with water, hanging in the window of a house, set the casement on fire one morning recently; the globe acting as a burning glass. Had the family been absent, a conflagration might have resulted, and its origin unaccountable.”

A decade later, goldfish had become big business in Cincinnati as proved by one of the regular Ohio River floods. Hugo Mulertt was a florist with shops downtown on Race Street and on Freeman Avenue in the West End. Like many Cincinnati florists, he sold a lot of goldfish along with bouquets and nosegays. He operated his own fishery out near Spring Grove Cemetery and, according to the Cincinnati Enquirer [24 February 1884], lost most of his exotic stock when the floodwaters that year overwhelmed his fish ponds.

“The backwater from Millcreek flooded Hugo Mulertt’s gold-fish nursery out back of Spring Grove and carried away some thousands of fish of all kinds – Japanese fringe-tails, telescopes, double-tails, hog-noses, tumblers, piebalds, mottled beauties, and a hundred other rare kinds that you and I have never heard of.”

With all these delectable and collectable fish swimming around in open ponds, it is no surprise that Cincinnati goldfish-mongers encountered a veritable menagerie of critters gathering to eat up their profits. Mr. Mulertt kept a rifle to shoot hungry snakes, but listed among his enemies geese, herons, ducks, turtles, muskrats, cranes, kingfishers and crawdads. The crawdads, he said, didn’t eat his fish, but their burrows undermined his ponds.

Robert C. Dolle, whose grandfather excavated those Mount Airy ponds, contended with mud turtles, kingfishers, herons and mink. At Coldstream Farms in Northern Kentucky, the animals responsible for “shrinkage” included mink, snakes, mice, rats, racoons, cats and even insects. According to the Enquirer [4 August 1929]:

“A certain insect will catch a fish between the dorsal fin and the tail, leaving a small mark which is quickly filled with silver scales. These spots are often seen in aquaria.”

The Schlosser family, who managed Coldstream’s fishery for nearly a century, killed as many as a dozen mink every year to save their exotic goldfish.

And let’s not forget human predation. The late 1930s brought a fad that you can blame on your grandparents – goldfish swallowing. Medical experts quoted in the Cincinnati Post [8 April 1939] advised collegiate faddists not to swallow too many live goldfish at all. Or, if peer pressure overwhelmed them, to scale the little suckers first.

In addition to the Schlossers in Fort Mitchell and Mr. Dolle in Mount Airy, there was also a large fishery on Compton Road in Wyoming. That operation was owned by Dr. Charles Goosmann, a radiologist with offices on Seventh Street. In November 1930, Dr. Goosmann learned that predators included humans because a thief or thieves walked off with more than 1,500 goldfish from his breeding pools.

How would one put a value on that theft? This proved to be more than an academic question when tax time rolled around. In 1958, the Ohio Board of Tax Appeals considered the case of James C. Denier, who had taken over Mr. Dolle’s Mount Airy ponds while maintaining a large breeding pond on Poole Road in Colerain Township. According to the Cincinnati Enquirer [25 July 1958], the state tax commissioner just “guesstimated” the value of goldfish in Mr. Denier’s many ponds and decided that the tax bills for 1953 and 1954, amounting to less than ten dollars in total, were wildly out of whack and determined that Mr. Denier owed $24,000 for 1953 and $42,000 for 1954. Mr. Denier appealed and managed to get his tax bill lowered to $1,700 for each year.

By then, the market for goldfish had softened considerably. Cincinnati breeders turned their ponds into sheep pastures. Sheep grazed among the Denier ponds in Mount Airy for a decade or more until the City of Cincinnati acquired the property and drained the goldfish ponds in 1977. Despite an appeal by the Mount Airy Town Council for ideas, the land remains mostly vacant.

#goldfish #cincinnati goldfish #mount airy

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nagia-pronounced-neijia · 16 days

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First Lines

Tagged by @laiqualaurelote and for once I have the energy. Thanks for the tag!

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there’s a pattern

1. Laus Veneris

The scents coming in off the East River are a particular kind of awful this morning, all rotting fish, old sewage, and frying algae. Even if the sun hasn't quite risen yet — it's still peeking over the horizon, casting long shadows over the city — the early summer heat means that Bigby smells everything.

2. The Distance Caught Me By Surprise Again

If Trevor were ever going to be completely honest about the fuckshow shit-circus that this most recent assault on Dracula's castle has been, he would probably admit that he'd always expected it to go poorly.

3. Unto All Men A Chosen Land

So, apparently, Trevor has somehow missed the end of the goddamn world. Weird. He'd thought for sure there were supposed to be trumpets, and something about armies of angels, or maybe the faithful?

4. This Rising Tide

Himura's blow may be what sent him crashing to the floor, but though Aoshi will never forget the searing pain of that impact — the burn of metal into his skin, a thousand times worse than any gunshot — it's not the pain that keeps him there. That takes the realization of what he's done.

5. Just Play Your Part

It's a surprisingly quaint little farm, the kind of thing some traveller from the far-away west might paint into his little journal and tell all the Belgians and Austrians and French about.

6. When There Is No Star In Sight

Those first few days of pale, pink-cheeked spring are gloriously, luxuriously perfect.

7. This Doesn't Hurt

They trudge into Camp Dragonhead under the cover of night. Pale snowflakes blur with paler stars in the blue satin sky; Alphinaud tastes the cold with his first breath, sharp on his tongue and crisp between his teeth.

8. there where the good man is not good

The thing about being a Belmont is, the job means you die.

9. When The Chaos Calls Me Out

So, the thing is, it wasn't supposed to go like this. He gets about four seconds of, "oh shit" when he puts his foot down inside what was apparently a circle of something.

10. If You Won't Go Under

Yuffie learned to climb and fall and roll so early that she had stopped having those weird dreams where you feel yourself fall, and then have to jerk to to wake up, by the time she was twelve.

(First line is actually narrator death, so here's the non-awful first.)

Most of the first lines are pretty punchy, but some of that may just be narrative voice. Speaking of, most of these openings have very distinctive character voices, with the (deliberate) exception of "When There Is No Star in Sight." This doesn't really surprise me and tbh probably isn't all that noteworthy for me, considering that I write extremely close third, with narration as a window into the narrator's thoughts. It's not just conversational prose, it's a conversation the narrator could conceivably be having in their head.

My openings also tend to get to who the narrator is pretty quickly. This is a writing habit I formed waaaaaay back when FF.Net published writing advice columns/articles on the front page. One of them tore into an author for playing coy about who the narrator was and delaying using names, and apparently I internalized that, along with basically all of Limyaael's rants.

I don't typically tag people, so if you see this and want to join in, please do!! Also: feel free to include your original projects or unposted wips. I'm not the police.

#memesheepage #on writing #artforms large and small

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apocalypticavolition · 7 months

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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 10: The Hunt Begins

This post probably has spoilers for the entire Wheel of Time series, so if that's not what you're into, don't keep reading.

This chapter starts us out with the Horn of Valere icon again, which... hell even if you shouldn't be reading this post because of the spoilers, you can probably piece together why a chapter called "The Hunt Begins" has it.

He kept his mouth shut, though. It was Lord Ingtar’s command; as friendly as he had been to Rand, he still would not appreciate a shepherd giving advice.

Rand demonstrating his keen leadership skills by being aware of the limitations of horses is both a good jibe at fantasy novels of the time (where horses needed less rest than the average car and had better range and mileage) and a nice way of contrasting how towards the end he won't be giving a fuck about anyone's limitations and push them all much harder than Ingtar is pushing these poor horses.

Rand tried to ride with Mat and Perrin, but when Rand let his horse drop back to them, Mat nudged Perrin, and Perrin reluctantly galloped to the head of the column with Mat.

I feel like this little bit of Mat being extra petty about this carries a lot of people's dislike of early Mat, because without the dagger he's actually not that bad even now.

Uno looked at Rand with his one eye, then shrugged and climbed into his saddle.

Uno isn't afraid to voice his opinion to his superiors 'cause he's a cool dude. He also is pretty convinced Rand is a lord too and thus could put Ingtar in his place - and probably has noticed the glances Rand's been giving the horses and is well aware that the boy agrees with him. I wonder how many of this ranging party specifically think that Ingtar being in charge is just the convenient fiction for this outlander lord who wants to pretend to be a shepherd. Like obviously Ingtar doesn't think that but Uno might...

“Do you like to run, Rand?” Loial laughed. “I do. I was the fastest in Stedding Shangtai. I outran a horse, once.”

That poor horse must have died of a heart attack shortly thereafter, what with the whole running at top speed and also having a huge thing like an Ogier keeping up with it.

It was not hard—there were few personal bundles among the supplies—but when he had it open, he let out a shout that brought every man in the camp erect with sword in hand.

Everyone of course just thinks Rand's bitching about the coats is him being pissy that Moiraine won't let him play at being a shepherd.

Also it's adorable how Moiraine thinks she's fulfilling prophecy with the heron-marked jackets.

I can always go naked, he thought bitterly.

*desperately presses random symbols on the nearest Portal Stone to find the nudist!Rand Mirror World*

“We didn’t bloody bring enough for you to be spilling it on the flaming ground.” The one-eyed man looked at Rand and left. Masema rubbed his ear, but his glare followed Rand.

So Masema's obviously pissy about this upstart foreigner Aiel-look-a-like putting on airs and terrifying everyone in the camp, but Uno's just doing whatever it takes to get a chance to challenge Rand to a friendly duel.

“I ask no questions, mind. If Lan Dai Shan and Moiraine Sedai want to say you are from Andor, from the Two Rivers, then you are. But Masema can’t get the look of the Aiel out of his head, and when he sees you. . . .”

It's really fascinating how Masema's perspective on Rand does such a huge 180. Bruh is an absolute fanatic about whatever his beliefs are, they just aren't necessarily logical evolutions from each other.

“I grew up with him, though you’d never know it now. You put this Aiel nonsense in his head on top of what’s already there, and the Light knows what we’ll have. An Aiel lord, maybe.”

Mat: Absolute savage and accidental prophet.

But they do let the Tuatha’an, the Traveling People, cross the Waste. And they don’t see Ogier as enemies, either, though I doubt any of us would want to go out into the Waste.

It's also a nice bit of realism that as soon as someone tries to simplify the Other as seeing the world purely in terms of themselves and their enemies, someone else can point out that no, it's not really that simple. It's not even really the case that the Aiel see the Wetlanders as enemies exactly, since they clearly could have engaged in warfare against them long ago and won.

When Rand finally settled down for the night, his head hummed with unwanted thoughts. Image of an Aielman. Moiraine Sedai wants to say you’re from the Two Rivers. Aiel ravaged all the way to Tar Valon. Born on the slopes of Dragonmount. The Dragon Reborn.

Bro can't even stay in denial anymore, though he does try a little. At this point it would literally take one more person calling him Aiel for him to snap though.

“Is this what a Darkfriend camp looks like? Smells a bit, but I can’t say it looks any different from anybody else’s.” He kicked at one of the ash heaps, knocking out a piece of burned bone, and stooped to pick it up. “What do Darkfriends eat? Doesn’t look like a sheep bone, or a cow.”

The one way in life that Mat isn't lucky is that if he can lose his dignity in literally any way, he absolutely will. It's where all his bad dice rolls go.

“We’ll waste no time burying Darkfriends,” Ingtar growled. “We ride south.” He suited his own words almost before they were out of his mouth.

Oftentimes, truly hateful vehemence comes from those who are closest to that which they despise. Just saying.

He reminded them of the charge the Amyrlin Seat had given them, to recover the Horn of Valere, and let nothing bar their way. He spoke of the glory they would have, their names remembered in story and history, in gleemen’s tales and bards’ songs, the men who found the Horn.

Ironically, we don't know the names of the whole party, so that didn't really work for them.

“I don’t like the smell of this place,” Perrin muttered as they came among the houses. Hurin gave him a look, and he stared back until Hurin dropped his eyes. “It smells wrong.”

Perrin the Yellow-Eyed Wolf Boy: Don't think we're the same, nose freak!

“Don’t frighten her!” Ingtar shouted. “Uno, we need information. The Light blind you, Uno, don’t frighten her!” The one-eyed man disappeared through the open door. Ingtar raised his voice again. “We will not harm you, good lady. We are Lord Agelmar’s oathmen, from Fal Dara. Do not be afraid! We will not harm you.”

I wonder if Lanfear really meant to be seen here to increase the sense of unease or if she was totally just going, "It won't hurt if I take a little peak at Lews through the window, these dumb third agers probably don't even know what up is, oh crap!"

“I fear the Darkfriends took them, Rand,” Loial said slowly. He grimaced, almost a snarl with his broad nose like a snout. “For the Trollocs.” Rand swallowed and wished he had not asked; it was never pleasant to think on how Trollocs fed.

Rand: They're okay right?

Loial: They. Were. Eaten. By. Demons. We're. Hunting. Demons. DEMONS!

He's so patient with the country boy.

“My Lord, you must see for yourself. The big stoneoak, fifty paces south from the landing. I cannot say the words. You must see it yourself.”

Jesus, it's like a Star Trek episode.

Mat waited until the last minute, when one of the Shienarans was untying the ferry, before he kicked his horse and crowded aboard. “I have to come sooner or later, don’t I?” he said, breathless, to no one in particular. “I have to find it.”

It's kind of a shame Mat didn't get any POVs in this book, because whatever the hell is going on in his head has to be a lot more interesting than the fandom gives him credit for. This is one of at least two big internal struggles we hear almost nothing about. Is he extra unhappy with Rand because he thinks that unlike him and Perrin, he's only benefiting from the adventure they're on? Does he think Rand's being selfish by being all, "Fuck you guys, I'm out" while Mat desperately wants out (he always does) but is forced to admit here that he has no future that doesn't pass through the Dagger?

“This is how we left home,” Perrin said suddenly. “At Taren Ferry. The ferrymen’s boots clunking on the deck, and the water gurgling around the ferry. This is how we left. It will be worse, this time.”

Likewise it sucks that we don't get any fun Perrin POVs just yet because he too is clearly going through all kinds of bullshit and Rand's even less aware of it than he is of Mat's stuff. "How can it be worse?" he asks, as if there's a Baerlon waiting for them only a week out. As if they have the world's most competent Aes Sedai/Warder duo at their side. As if Egwene is there, and Nynaeve to join soon, to help them think of home. As if all three boys aren't already changed permanently by what's happened but are nowhere near done with their transformations.

Rand's hilariously oblivious sometimes, you know? And so's Mat, since he agrees.

Then he recognized the two faces. Changu, and the other man who had been on guard with him. Nidao. Eyes staring, teeth bared in a rictus of pain. They had lived a long time after it began.

Poor bastards.

“Cut them down,” Ingtar said harshly. He hesitated a moment, then added, “Bury them. We cannot be sure they were Darkfriends. They could have been taken prisoner. They could have been. Let them know the last embrace of the mother, at least.”

Even Ingtar's had character growth this chapter! Is he already realizing that his extremism means he deserves the same ignominy and is softening himself in the hopes of mercy for himself? Is he genuinely uncertain as to Changu and Nidao's affiliation (perhaps they weren't in his sect of Darkfriends or even really were innocent) and thus erring on the side of kindness? Hard to say!

“Shienarans believe we all came from earth, and must return to earth. They never use coffins or shrouds, and the bodies are never clothed. The earth must hold the body. The last embrace of the mother, they call it. And there are never any words except ‘The Light shine on you, and the Creator shelter you. The last embrace of the mother welcome you home.’ ”

The Shienarans seem to have a very prototypical Earth Mother belief that will no doubt blossom into that very concept given enough time. It seems pretty early for that though; either Jordan thinks Earth Mother is very universal or he expected that there'd be some extra steps along the way (perhaps eventually the descendant organizations of Aes Sedai / Wise Ones etc. become the monopoly on the Singing?)

“Then who shot the arrow at—at the Amyrlin?” Rand swallowed. Who shot at me? Loial said nothing.

Lucky for Rand, Loial's not street smart enough to realize that his stuttering isn't a natural effect of the horrifying treatment of the corpses but because of a near slip. He's also not street smart enough to realize that Ingtar did the Dog Gate slaying, which further points to the innocence of these two poor bastards. But on the other hand I already said they were guilty so they're definitely burning in hell. Can't change my mind. Looks weak.

“They saved Lord Agelmar at Tarwin’s Gap,” he said. Several of the lancers nodded.

Ingtar's probably extra uncomfortable about this because his Darkfriend orders at the time were to get Agelmar killed or something.

Occasionally Rand saw what might have been a farmhouse in the distance, and once what he thought was a village, with smoke rising from chimneys a few miles off and something flashing white in the sun, but the land near them stayed empty of human life, long swathes of grass dotted with brush and occasional trees, with now and again a small thicket, never more than a hundred paces across.

Fascinating that the villages of Shienar, which presumably face all kinds of population problems what with the state of eternal warfare and all, manage to be denser and more prosperous than people living in this relatively decent grassland where there's no military pressures on them at all.

“It is not there any longer, Builder. When Hawkwing died, the ones who fought over his empire could not bear to leave a monument to a victory of his, even if it did not mention his name. There’s nothing left but the mound where it stood. In three or four days we can see that, at least.”

Maybe the bad juju of tearing down a perfectly good monument mixed with all the contaminating Trolloc blood led to them all dying out en masse, you know?

“I’ve seen an old map,” Rand replied in a tight voice. “I know about the nations that aren’t there anymore. Maredo, and Goaban, and Caralain. But there wasn’t any Hardan on it.”

Well that's very confusing, because all of those nations collapsed before Hardan. Must be a shit map.

Crops failed, or trade failed. People failed. Something failed in each case, and the nation dwindled.

I wonder if the Dark One's been able to affect the weather to some degree or another this whole time and only once the first seal broke was he able to pull out the "eternal winter over the whole land" gambit. It would explain just how badly humanity's been doing the past thousand years, with the long game finally paying off.

We are being swept away, humankind. Swept away like flotsam on a flood. How long until there is nothing left but the Borderlands? How long before we, too, go under, and there is nothing left but Trollocs and Myrddraal all the way to the Sea of Storms?

And so Ingtar explains why he fell to the Shadow - but even without all of the upheaval Rand brings, we've already got some clear rumblings that the game was going to change and that Ingtar's giving into despair was a personal failing. Elayne was being set up to be an Aes Sedai queen of Andor, ruling for hundreds of years and hopefully keeping the land unified. Pedron Niall wanted to restore Almoth to its former glory - under his hand, but still. The Seanchan invasion would have, without interruption, restored "civilization" to a good deal of the wilderness.

Also points to Ingtar for some realistic blind spots in another way: he assumes the Borderlands will be the last to fall even though the most recent national failing was Malkier.

There was no gate in the one opening he could see in the wall, but he supposed it could be blocked easily enough with a cart or wagon.

Honestly with population density and armed banditry being as rare as it is, blocking the gate may genuinely not be something these people feel they need to resort to.

Cairhien did claim this land, once the last King of Hardan died. All the way to the Erinin, they claimed it. They could not hold it, though. They gave up the claim nearly a hundred years ago.

Well if the Cairhieniens wanted it, and the former Hardani wanted it, what exactly was the issue? Were the tax collectors just unable to make it this far north consistently?

The table was set for a meal, ladder-back chairs gathered around, some plates already served. A few flies buzzed above bowls of turnips and peas, and more crawled on a cold roast sitting in its own congealed grease. There was a slice half carved from the roast, the fork still standing stuck in the meat and the carving knife lying partway in the platter as if dropped. Rand stepped inside. Blink.

Look I'm just gonna say it. The blinking and the flickering is some of the top tier Wheel stuff and people would have been infinitely more forgiving of the slog if it involved more of it. Even if the only thing flickering about Elayne's bath scene was that every time she blinked the fragrance of the soap she was using changed, people would have eaten that shit up and rated Crossroads of Twilight 7 out of 5 stars.

Rand could not move. The flies buzzing over the table sounded louder. His breath made a cloud in front of his mouth.

The flies are pretty strongly emphasized in this sequence, which make me wonder if they're connected to whatever weird magic Fain was using in this scene.

Also worth noting that originally this was supposed to be Lanfear's trap, but that this got changed. Frankly it's a damn shame she couldn't take time out of her stalker ex practices to quickly kill Fain before he became an actual kerfuffle.

Suddenly he was tearing at . . . something. He did not know what, or how. Cobwebs made of steel. Moonbeams carved from stone. They crumbled at his touch, but he knew he had not touched anything. They shriveled and melted with the heat that surged through him, heat like a forge fire, heat like the world burning, heat like—

Fain really breaks the magic systems, doesn't he? It's way less coherent than the established magical systems And yet Rand's use of saidin manages to take care of things.

Those black clothes, blacker than black, had never been worn by any human. The wind flapped an end of the cloak caught behind the body—which it did not always, he knew too well; the wind did not always touch those clothes—but there had never been any eyes in that pale, bloodless face.

I love how terrifying this early Fain stuff is, which really just makes it all the more frustrating that he completely loses all relevance as the series goes on. Book 7 Fain could never be this cool. Book 14 Fain couldn't even get into the same sentence as. These other Fains. What was Jordan planning on doing with him? Why did he lose the plot so thoroughly? Will we ever find something in his notes that makes it make sense?

We'll probably never know. Oh well. Next time: more hunting!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #rand al'thor #ingtar shinowa #hurin #mat cauthon #perrin aybara #uno nomesta #loial #masema dagar #lanfear #ragan

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hirocimacruiser · 2 years

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Mugen Honda Beat.

Housekeeper Miki Emido Mugen Beat 's Strange Road MUGEN Wants to play all year round even in Seater Heat ! Her girlfriend Harumikiemi is the author of the J's Meets series column "The Housekeeper Was Watching". In the winter she snowboards and in the summer she surfs. I also bought the Mugen version. Now that you've bought it, let her play with Pete all year round. That's why there's no limit to the number of things I can show you this time, but even so, I'm going with beats. I had secretly made up my mind when I did. She is a car. A different line of sight will show you the scenery you might have missed, and if you open the hood, even the breeze in the city will make you feel comfortable. Do you know the smell of rain? Even such incomprehensible things are fun. For me, who lacks driving skills, it gives me the feeling of "I'm driving" and always provides fun. So she wants to be with Beat all year round. Summer is the beach, autumn is a barbecue, winter and spring is snowboarding, and I can't talk about my year without playing. Play and work are the same. It's casual, but it has weight. Then beat her and let's go snowboarding. Let's try surfing in the summer, and in the fall, let's eat salmon roe bowl while watching the river climb in rural Fukushima. I've never had one before, and there's also the clearance issue that's unique to Mugen specifications.I'll have to improve my driving skills, and I'll probably need more than double my knowledge of cars. I could still hear my friend saying, "It's absolutely impossible, so don't do it." Anyway, I had a goal that he wanted to play with only one beat, so I tried my best to carry out the plan while asking the editorial department and Duke Kimura for advice. increase. He also set a muffler made of two center pipes in the cockpit with a bumper-integrated non-road rear skirt. Even the wheels have fine suspense.

#Mugen Beat #Honda Beat #Mugen #JDM

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straight-to-the-pain · 2 years

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Lady Luck Will Choose Her Side - 1

This was originally written as a gift for @quirkykayleetam in an exchange, with technical advice from @pythagoreanwhump on explosions, guns, and being a 16 year old (which you are no longer). I also watched some videos of some soldiers pretending to blow up a bridge in Kent for this, which was entertaining as some of the residents seemed to truly believe they were about to destroy local infrastructure. This is a series with more to follow!

Contains: blowing up a bridge, whump of a teenage character and referenced harm and death of children, fictional politics (there’s an unspecified civil war), military whump, guns and gunshot wounds, references to mass murder, including that of children, and more torture to come.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Charlie sighs, picking his way through the scratchy undergrowth of brambles. Owen follows him, grateful for the path that Charlie is carving out for him.

“Well you’re the one who planned this,” he points out, wincing slightly as a particularly sharp branch catches on his sleeve.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Charlie knows he sounds angry, but behind the anger is a deep-seated worry that he can’t seem to dislodge. “I don’t know how you managed to talk me into letting you come with me.” He shakes his head.

“You know you can’t say no to me when I ask nicely,” Owen says, and Charlie can’t help but laugh, though it’s short and bitter.

He’s about to argue with that statement, though everyone in the camp knows it’s true, including him, but when he moves the last prickly tendril out of the way, he knows they’ve reached their destination. It’s far past curfew, and the banks of the river are silent and empty. The water shimmers like crumpled black silk, illuminated by the light of the moon. It’s breathtaking.

Charlie thinks he could spend all night staring out at the river, but there’s no time to get distracted if they want to get back under the cover of darkness. Pressing a finger to his lips, he quietly creeps out from the foliage.

A part of him hopes that Owen won’t follow, that he will decide not to do this after all, but then he always raised the kid to be brave. Maybe he did too well a job, because Owen trails after him with a smile.

The bridge across the river is old, with mossy stone and faded metal girders. It will almost be a shame to destroy it, but it’s the only way to halt the army’s progress. Before the civil war, fishermen would go out in their trawlers early in the morning to bring a haul back for market.

Now the only noise that can be heard is the sound of distant gunshots coming from the other bank. And they’re about to make the lives of those shooting a lot more complicated.

“Here, this will be a good place to set the charges,” Charlie whispers when they reach the middle of the bridge. He’s looking over the railing, at the criss-crossing beams above its columns.

“One under here and one under the next one, that should do the trick.” He checks his watch. “We have three hours until the guards are due to patrol the area, so let’s get going. Hold the torch so I can see what I’m doing.”

Carefully, Charlie climbs over the side of the bridge, hands grasping onto stone and metal. He’s glad that he wore his favourite gloves, or his fingers would have been too stiff with cold to get a good grip. He knows better than to look down. Each exhale leaves a trail of mist in the cold night air, and the river is deathly cold this time of year.

“Alright, start handing me the goods.” The kid just stares blankly at him for a moment, still holding the torch, eyes wide.

“Open the pack,” Charlie repeats, “and give me the explosives, Owen.” His voice is firm but calm. He knows that some of the others are scared of him, that they whisper about his temper when they think he can’t hear, but he has always welcomed such a reputation.

It’s better that way. Better to not get attached, to be ruthless and calculating. But somehow Owen has burrowed his way into his heart, and he can’t bear the thought of losing him on their first mission together.

Owen blinks and nods. “Yes, Charlie,” he says quickly, passing him the cylinders from his pack. “Sorry, Charlie.” He holds them gingerly, like they might explode in his hands, unlit fuse and all.

“Pay attention, Owen,” Charlie tells him. “You stop paying attention, that’s when things start to go wrong.”

He works quickly, tying the explosives to the bridge supports with coarse rope, then repeats the process for the next column. Owen watches him closely, and he knows he should be explaining the process, teaching him to follow in his footsteps the way everyone has always expected, but he can’t quite bring himself to do so.

He tells himself that he is quiet out of necessity, but there’s a traitorous part of him that hopes that Owen never learns, that he will never have to put himself in danger the way Charlie has.

“You done?” Owen asks, as Charlie gathers up the fuses, twisting them together.

He nods, about to start trailing them along the bridge so they can light them from the safety of the undergrowth, but then Owen’s breath hitches, and Charlie looks up to find panic in his eyes.

In the pale moonlight, Owen’s face looks like a white sheet. He’s pointing wordlessly into the distance, and when Charlie turns, he sees the unmistakable silhouettes of an army patrol.

Did their informant betray them, or are the soldiers just early? There isn’t time to consider that now. Suddenly, he remembers that Owen is still holding the lit torch. He grabs it from the boy’s hands, praying that the soldiers haven’t yet noticed the suspicious light.

“Let’s go before they see us,” Charlie whispers. “This isn’t worth our lives, let’s just run.”

This isn’t worth your life, he thinks, but doesn’t dare say it. What would the fighters back at camp say if they heard him now? Accuse him of cowardice most likely.

“We could still do it,” Owen argues. He still looks terrified but there’s a breathless determination in his voice. “I want to do it. I want to do something important with my life.” There’s an intensity in his eyes that catches Charlie off guard, even now.

Owen draws out a matchbook from his pocket. “Let’s light it and run.”

There’s no time to argue. “Let’s give ourselves a little more distance,” Charlie says, glancing back at the approaching soldiers. The figures are growing larger by the minute but Charlie knows that they can’t see them yet, not at their position on the bridge.

“I’ll let you do the honours,” Charlie tells the kid, and Owen smiles despite everything. They’ll have some time to get away while the fuse burns, but once they start running they’ll be out in the open, no longer hidden in the shadows of the bridge. Once they reach the forest, the foliage will provide them with some cover but first they’ll have to dash across the riverside promenade.

Owen strikes the match. He holds it in his hand for just a moment, and his ginger hair looks almost copper in the light of the flame. Then he brings it up to the fuse and there’s only time for a quick glance and a mutual nod before they both break into a sprint.

Charlie runs and keeps running until he can feel the brambles scratching at his clothes and the nettles stinging his hands. He doesn’t look back, not even when he hears the bang of the

explosion, the crash of metal and stone hitting the water. He doesn’t look back, even as the sky is set alight around him.

He wants to know that Owen is behind him, that Owen is safe, but he can’t make anything out in the din of the explosion and the thicket of foliage. He refuses to think about Owen being killed, to think that it might be all his fault if he never returns from this. He just runs.

Charlie runs until he hears the gunshots. They pierce the chaos around him, bringing him out of his daze and focusing his mind. There’s a burst of muzzle flash among the trees, one, two, then three shots followed by a distant groan of pain and the thud of a body against the ground.

Instinct tells Charlie to breathe, to keep running, but the air is frozen in his lungs. His heart hammers against his chest. Dropping to his knees, he quietly parts the foliage, praying that whoever is lying on the ground isn’t Owen.

It’s not. Owen is standing in a clearing, hands trembling as he points his pistol at a gathered group of soldiers. There’s more than just the patrol now. Charlie guesses the explosion alerted a nearby unit and now dozens of them are hunting them down. Hunting him down.

His mind screams at him to do something, to either fight or to run, but he’s stuck, frozen in his hiding place. The fact that Owen is still standing brings him a sliver of comfort. Surely if the soldiers had wanted him dead, he would be by now, especially after hitting one of their own?

But he’s proud too. Proud that despite the panic, despite his shaking hands gripping the gun for dear life, Owen still managed to put up a fight.

“Drop your weapon and get on your knees,” one of the soldiers commands, and there’s a slight moment of hesitation before the gun slips out of Owen’s hands, and he sinks down into the dirt. Charlie watches the way his chest rises and falls in quick, short breaths.

“Hands on your head,” her colleague yells. “Don’t you dare fucking move, or we’ll shoot.” As though to prove his point, he gestures at him with his gun.

If he’s going to do anything, Charlie knows he should do it now. Clamping a hand over his mouth, he forces himself to stay quiet, even as some part of him wants to cry out and tell Owen that he’s sorry for dragging him into this.

Even if he emptied all his bullets into the soldiers, it wouldn’t be enough. He’d get them both captured at best or killed at worst. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe the merciful thing to do would be to shoot Owen and then himself. He stops that thought in its tracks before it can properly take root.

“Do your people have no fucking shame, sending a kid to do their dirty work?” the first soldier asks, jabbing Owen with his rifle. The irony in that statement isn’t lost on Charlie. If it weren’t for those damn soldiers, Owen would still be with his family. If it weren’t for them, he would never have had to learn how to shoot a gun or light a fuse, to live with the fear that the people he loves won’t be there when he wakes up.

“I’m not a kid,” Owen retorts quietly but firmly. “I’m almost seventeen, you know.”

The soldier laughs properly at that, then kicks the boy without warning. To his credit, Owen grunts softly, his hands never leaving their required positions, though his fingers tighten slightly against his curls.

But Charlie isn’t really looking at Owen anymore. He’s hiding behind a barn, watching those same soldiers as they drag his family out into the main square.

No, he tells himself. Those were different soldiers, different faces. But what difference does it really make when their guns and uniforms are the same? He’s watching, helpless, hand pressed against his mouth. His husband moaning in pain as the soldiers beat him with their batons. His daughter screaming for him while he can only stare, motionless. The gunshots, followed by silence.

They’re gone, his mind tells him. You can’t save them anymore. He realises that he’s clutching their photo in his hand. When he looks up, the soldiers are already dragging Owen up with a hood over his head, tugging him in the opposite direction out of the thicket. He stumbles after them, tripping over his own feet as they roughly tug him after them, away from Charlie.

“You think he really did it alone?” one of the soldiers asks another.

“I don’t buy it,” his colleague replies, with an authority that tells Charlie she’s the one in charge. “Greyson, get your squad. Search the area.”

Charlie doesn’t stick around to hear the rest. He takes off in the opposite direction. Even in the darkness, surrounded by branches, he still knows the way home, but he doesn’t go back to camp. He can’t bear the thought of leading the soldiers right back into their hideout.

As he falls asleep that night, cold and alone in an abandoned cottage, praying the soldiers don’t find him, there’s only one clear thought in his mind. Get Owen back, whatever it takes.

#whump #military whump #captivity #past trauma #death #minor whump #tumblr was giving me sich grief with formatting this and posting it #this is a series there is more to come #oc: Charlie #oc: Owen #my stuff #my writing

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worldtouradvicetravel · 7 months

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MS OBEROI PHILAE LUXURY NILE CRUISE

Unleash your inner with MS OBEROI PHILAE LUXURY NILE CRUISE and experience memorable tour to visit all the historical sightseeing between Luxor and Aswan while exploring the most famous river in the world. World Tour Advice gives you the chance to choose your Nile Cruise between different fancy Nile Cruises with high facilities. Sail between Luxor and Aswan and enjoy visiting Karnak Temple, Valley of the Kings, Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, Colossi of Memnon, Kom Ombo and Edfu Temples, the High Dam, and Philae Temple.

Sail on board Luxor and Aswan Nile Cruises, you will have the chance to visit Karnak and Luxor Temples, Our Luxor and Aswan Nile Cruise also includes a visit to Valley of Kings and Queens, with Luxor to Aswan Cruises you will enjoy guided tours to Edfu Temple, Kom Ombo Temple, As well as Philae Temple, unfinished obelisk and The High Dam in Aswan, Book Luxor to Aswan Cruises for memorable experience and panoramic views of the Nile River.

Oberoi Philae Luxury Nile Cruise Scout Egypt at a leisurely pace with luxury Oberoi Philae Nile cruise. Relish tours to remarkable ancient sights scattered along the Nile, Explore El Bar El Gharby in Luxor ( Luxor West bank ) in comfortable way, Scout Edfu, Kom Ombo temples, It is perfect for those looking for a sleek ultra modern experience, and made their way from temple to temple enjoying the river breeze.

Itinerary

Cruise itinerary 5 days from Luxor to Aswan

Day 1 El Bar El Sharqi Tour (East bank)- Karnak and Luxor temples - Nile Cruise tours

Arrive at Luxor International Airport or train terminal, met and assist by WorldTouradvice voyage manager and escorted to board your luxury Oberoi Philae Nile cruise. dazzling locales, luxurious accommodations, luscious cuisine, glamorous shipmates, and fawning wait staff, Starting the cruise holiday by Relishing a luscious lunch aboard, then start your guided tours to explore Luxor sightseeing with a tour to the monumental temple complex at karnak. strolling through this gorgeous open-air museum and into the Great Court into the Great Hypostyle hall of 134 columns towering above its visitors like an antique forest. Stir to Luxor Temple through two kilometers avenues of sphinxes, the royal processional route that once joined Luxor and karnak temples .The prominent temple of Luxor devoted to the god Amun Ra

Accommodation in Luxury cabin in Philae Oberoi cruise

Lunch-Dinner meals

Day 2 Luxor West Bank Tours (El Bar E lgharbi) - Nile Cruise Tours

Start your day of exploration with an excursion to the famous location of ( El Bar El Gharbi ) where over 64 tombs for pharaohs and nobles on the West Bank of the Nile. First tour to the dazzling tombs in valley of kings and exploring the stunning and mysterious tomb of king Tutankhamun, then enjoy the most vibrant colors and drawings of the burial chamber of Ramses "the six" (included), Proceed to Dier El Medina, the spot of an amazing special workmenâ€™s Village, whose craftsmen erected and adorned the tombs of the Pharaohs in the Valley of the Kings and Madinet Habu temple. Then free time for a photo-stop at the massive colossi of Memnon, Twin statues of Amenhotep III. Sailing south to Edfu via Esna lock. Overnight: Esna

Accommodation in Luxury cabin in Philae Oberoi cruise

Breakfast-Lunch-Dinner meals

Day 3 Kom Ombo and Edfu Tours

Relish the cool Nile from Luxor to Edfu to explore Edfu Temple, a temple which is devoted to Horus the falcon â€“headed sun god .This is one of the most attractive protected temples surviving in Egypt. Proceed sailing to Kom Ombo and a tour to the temple unambiguously dedicated to two gods â€“ Horus the Elder represented as falcon and the crocodile headed Sobek. Actually, crocodiles were preserved in the temple and some mummies of crocodiles are on show. Overnight: Aswan

Accommodation in Luxury cabin in Philae Oberoi cruise

Breakfast-Lunch-Dinner meals

Day 4 Aswan Sightseeing Tours

Relish sunny and luscious breakfast on board, Enjoy your Aswan sightseeing tours with a visit to the famed ( El Sad el aali ) Aswan High Dam, then proceed with a motor boat trip to visit Philae temple devoted to the goddess Isis of the dazzling Philae Island.The temple dismantled, recollected and relocated when the High Dam was built 1960. Relish a palatable lunch on board, proceed your excursions into the history and culture of the Nubian land located in South Egypt. Most of Nubian temples were protected in partnership with Unesco to save the monuments and heritage of the Nubian from the flooding of Lake Nasser when Aswan high dam was erected in the 1960

Accommodation in Luxury cabin in Philae Oberoi cruise

Breakfast-Lunch-Dinner meals

Day 5 Aswan Opt Tour to Abu Simbel, Good Bye Nile Cruise

Disembarkation from your Philae cruise after your sumptuous breakfast, free time at leisure or alternatively opting tour from Aswan to Abu Simbel to witness the majesty of the twins temples of Ramses II and his wife, Queen Nefertari .The two hewn-rock temples of Abu Simbel were erected and devoted to King Ramses II and are an incredible sight to behold. The entire site was disassembled and moved to its current location to save it from the flood waters caused by the Aswan High Dam. Transfer from Philae cruise to Aswan airport or station for final departure.

Accommodation in Luxury cabin in Philae Oberoi cruise

Breakfast

Oberoi Philae Nile Cruise 07 days / 06 nights - Luxor / Aswan

Day 1 Nile cruise tours from Luxor to Dendera

Upon arrival at Luxor International Airport, or Train terminal you will be met and assist by World Tour Advice voyage manager and escorted to board your luxury Philae Oberoi Nile cruise. Relish luscious lunch meal on-board as you sailing to Qena before going on to the gorgeous Temple of goddess Hathor at Dendera. Hathor is an Ancient Egyptian goddess who represented the principles of gladness, womanish love. Overnight in Qena.

Accommodation: Stay at the Oberoi Philae Nile Cruise (Luxury Cabin) - Breakfast

Day 2 Nile cruise Holiday - Tour from Luxor to Abydos

Today is time to explore Abydos, Drive to the north accompanied by your masterly tour guide to Abydos, The dazzling temple of Seti I and home to â€œThe Cult of Osirisâ€.Abydos A city north of dendera, capital of the eighth nome, called the Thinite nome, Abydos was considered the greatest of all cemeteries and home to the god osiris, It was believed to be the place where Osiris was buried. The paintings of the Gods and Pharaohs on the walls of the Osiris Temple at Abydos are among the most stunning protected in Egypt and it contains an inscription to the kings list. Back to cruise to relish Lunch meal served on the Oberoi Philae, then enjoy the changeable landscape whilst the cruise ship sail back to Luxor. Late this afternoon, tour to Luxor Museum, to marvel the objects that were collected from the tomb of Tutankhamun (horse-carriage, weapons as well as several exhibits).