allknowingofnir

[allknowingofnir]

Need Help with Car

Hello again. I hate to ask but we're having trouble with our car now. The alternator is going out and it's the only vehicle we have. Things are still tight but should improve soon but we're just still having to clear another hurdle in the process. Please consider sharing or contributing if you can, every bit helps. Thank you.

[allknowingofnir]

"How many more?" Gideon asks, quite vexed.

The idea there's more mud golems about eating deathroot in the hold fills him with a weird queasiness.

"Solis, where do you get that deathroot from? You do know it's dangerous, right?"

"Uncle Giddy"

A little whisper comes from the pther side of his desk. Solis barely peeked over at him. The sound of her tail wagging

"Remember book? with plant feelings?"

Then, she disappears for a moment. A squeak sound being heard. Solis comes back and places the mud thing on the desk, looking proud

"I make body for plant with feelings"

Gideon stares at the assortment of mud on the table and sighs. He motions to Ensha to fetch a bowl from the kitchens.

"A fine vessel indeed, I'm sure the plant feels much better now. Let's find it a home shall we?" Gideon gently scoops up the mud and puts it in the bowl and sets it on the edge of the desk.

"See? Now it too has a home for itself."

[allknowingofnir]

Gideon boggles at the deathroot being handled so casually.

"Are you, ah, alright there?" He leans over the table peering over at Solis.

"Uncle Giddy"

A little whisper comes from the pther side of his desk. Solis barely peeked over at him. The sound of her tail wagging

"Remember book? with plant feelings?"

Then, she disappears for a moment. A squeak sound being heard. Solis comes back and places the mud thing on the desk, looking proud

"I make body for plant with feelings"

Gideon stares at the assortment of mud on the table and sighs. He motions to Ensha to fetch a bowl from the kitchens.

"A fine vessel indeed, I'm sure the plant feels much better now. Let's find it a home shall we?" Gideon gently scoops up the mud and puts it in the bowl and sets it on the edge of the desk.

"See? Now it too has a home for itself."

[allknowingofnir]

He stares at the small creature absorb the Deathroot before becoming more animate. The pallor of his face is somehow even paler than before.

"Solis... where did you get that Deathroot?"

He side-eyes the creature bobbing on his desk, a shiver crawling up his spine. The creature is some manner of undead mud construct.

"Uncle Giddy"

A little whisper comes from the pther side of his desk. Solis barely peeked over at him. The sound of her tail wagging

"Remember book? with plant feelings?"

Then, she disappears for a moment. A squeak sound being heard. Solis comes back and places the mud thing on the desk, looking proud

"I make body for plant with feelings"

Gideon stares at the assortment of mud on the table and sighs. He motions to Ensha to fetch a bowl from the kitchens.

"A fine vessel indeed, I'm sure the plant feels much better now. Let's find it a home shall we?" Gideon gently scoops up the mud and puts it in the bowl and sets it on the edge of the desk.

"See? Now it too has a home for itself."

[allknowingofnir]

Gideon stares baffled by the achievement. It is actually a mud being. Sitting on his desk.

"More you say? Now where would you put them?" He looked around, listening for anymore squeaks.

"Uncle Giddy"

A little whisper comes from the pther side of his desk. Solis barely peeked over at him. The sound of her tail wagging

"Remember book? with plant feelings?"

Then, she disappears for a moment. A squeak sound being heard. Solis comes back and places the mud thing on the desk, looking proud

"I make body for plant with feelings"

Gideon stares at the assortment of mud on the table and sighs. He motions to Ensha to fetch a bowl from the kitchens.

"A fine vessel indeed, I'm sure the plant feels much better now. Let's find it a home shall we?" Gideon gently scoops up the mud and puts it in the bowl and sets it on the edge of the desk.

"See? Now it too has a home for itself."

[allknowingofnir]

"Uncle Giddy"

A little whisper comes from the pther side of his desk. Solis barely peeked over at him. The sound of her tail wagging

"Remember book? with plant feelings?"

Then, she disappears for a moment. A squeak sound being heard. Solis comes back and places the mud thing on the desk, looking proud

"I make body for plant with feelings"

Gideon stares at the assortment of mud on the table and sighs. He motions to Ensha to fetch a bowl from the kitchens.

"A fine vessel indeed, I'm sure the plant feels much better now. Let's find it a home shall we?" Gideon gently scoops up the mud and puts it in the bowl and sets it on the edge of the desk.

"See? Now it too has a home for itself."

[allknowingofnir]

"I'll do what I can even if it's only playing the role of scribe, you have it on my honor." He gives a curt nod. Ensha listens intently at the door and looks away having stared too long.

"I'd suspected it but this all but confirms it. Miquella's enchantments are nothing to take lightly; I know that much just from the concoctions of St. Trina's Lillies. Let alone whatever charms the man could do himself. I hate to say it but in my research I'd almost consider myself bewitched at times. Makes my skin crawl when I think about it."

A sourceless message fades into the Hold, floating onto his desk as though guided by gales. A paper, discolored and faded with time, disrupts the sea of papers on his desk, demanding attention like a fussy child. What it reads is simple.

Spread the word. Miquella the Kind has been murdered.

@in-lucem-veritas

He reads the message again and again, before setting it down on the table. He only manages a single word in response.

"What?"

[allknowingofnir]

"You close the door to the study for a few minutes and the world moves on without you. What's been going on?" He gives Dany his full attention, an audible crack filling the air as he stands to his full height.

"How on earth did that child get to the Palace?... No matter, whatever assistance we can offer do let us know. My resources aren't what they once were, but I'll lend what I can."

Perona is always a welcome face around the Hold, even in his study. To think something's befell the child does fill him with a rare instance of grief, a sensation that had numbed long ago.

A sourceless message fades into the Hold, floating onto his desk as though guided by gales. A paper, discolored and faded with time, disrupts the sea of papers on his desk, demanding attention like a fussy child. What it reads is simple.

Spread the word. Miquella the Kind has been murdered.

@in-lucem-veritas

He reads the message again and again, before setting it down on the table. He only manages a single word in response.

"What?"

[allknowingofnir]

A sourceless message fades into the Hold, floating onto his desk as though guided by gales. A paper, discolored and faded with time, disrupts the sea of papers on his desk, demanding attention like a fussy child. What it reads is simple.

Spread the word. Miquella the Kind has been murdered.

@in-lucem-veritas

He reads the message again and again, before setting it down on the table. He only manages a single word in response.

"What?"

[allknowingofnir]

My name is Tarneem Sami, and I live in the Shuja'iyya neighborhood of Gaza City 🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉with my three children. My husband, Ahmed, was killed while trying to get supplies for us. We have fled from place to place, living in constant fear amid severe shortages of food and medicine, hoping only to survive this brutal war.

‏Please help me. Please help me to save my children from hunger and diseases. We are suffering a lot 😭🙏🏻🍉😭

You can support my campaign by donating whatever you can or by sharing my posts to reach others who can help us survive the war to safety and peace. You are helping the lives . Every donation makes a difference in our very difficult lives.

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.

[allknowingofnir]

"Knowing him, he'd probably never even dreamt of such a thing. 'It is simply perfection itself, why would you ever want to cure it?' Eugh, I can still hear his rat voice in my head." Gideon growls at the thought.

"It's something I'll have to look into myself. I knew him some time ago, before his treachery. The methodology is there, it's simply understanding the finer points of it..." Truth be told, he'll need the combined effort of the finest minds of Glintstone Sorcery and the Perfumers if it is to even be done.

He's getting ahead of himself. He forces himself to calm down, slowing his breathing, before finally exhaling with a spiteful sigh. He waves an arm, and Ensha enters. He looks from Gideon, back to Dolores, then to Gideon once more. Without a word he nods, carefully picking her up and taking her away to one of the spare rooms in the hold.

"We'll make sure they're cared for, if you can bring back more. I still have some sway here, though they might not stay in the Hold indefinitely." They'll have to find someplace safe. Leyndell would be ideal, but given the hostility toward Tarnished right now, puppeted people would be sitting ducks as much as the people tasked with carrying them about.

"You've done good today, sickening as it is to witness all of this. Take a breath." Gideon says, noticing Elorne's pallor.

A man who he had once or twice seen around the Roundtable Hold has appeared once again, this time with what looks like precious cargo. Using a burlap cloth as a sling, he carries someone on his back, their body and resting on the grafted man's back.

He carries them into his study room. He is straight to the point.

"Is this Dolores? Do you know her?" He sounded slightly winded, as if he sped his way towards here to ask this.

@elorne-the-grafted

The events unfold quickly enough, someone barging into his study with what appears to be a corpse fastened to his back. Someone who's indulged in grafting at that.

It's like ice water down his spine when the words reach his ears.

"Dolores-wait, Dolores, the Sleeping Arrow. You have her?" There's an audible clatter of books as he shoves the stacks of tomes off the table before waving the man in.

"By the Erdtree-get in here man, mind the door!"

[allknowingofnir]

"10? Gods above and below, I knew the man was sick, but to think that many people, and for what reasons? Honestly, I'm not sure I want to know that one." His tone is somber, and complexion fraught and pale.

"Where is this place? That you found them?" He retrieves some of the tomes, one of them in fresher condition than the others. He fetches a quill and ink, before writing furiously. What he's jotting down isn't entirely clear, but there seem to be steps involved.

"More importantly, had you seen anything that would give an inkling to a counter agent, some kind of... antidote to whatever it is he used?" He almost grips Dolores' hand at the question, but his leaning hand curls back into a fist instead. His disgust is quickly turning to anger.

A man who he had once or twice seen around the Roundtable Hold has appeared once again, this time with what looks like precious cargo. Using a burlap cloth as a sling, he carries someone on his back, their body and resting on the grafted man's back.

He carries them into his study room. He is straight to the point.

"Is this Dolores? Do you know her?" He sounded slightly winded, as if he sped his way towards here to ask this.

@elorne-the-grafted

The events unfold quickly enough, someone barging into his study with what appears to be a corpse fastened to his back. Someone who's indulged in grafting at that.

It's like ice water down his spine when the words reach his ears.

"Dolores-wait, Dolores, the Sleeping Arrow. You have her?" There's an audible clatter of books as he shoves the stacks of tomes off the table before waving the man in.

"By the Erdtree-get in here man, mind the door!"

[allknowingofnir]

He grips the potion bottle, staring at its contents. Even from here he could feel its potency. And the bastard had the nerve to target Nepheli, after what he'd done to Dolores? Had he not taken enough? Done enough!?

"...you... have done myself and my family a kindness this day. Whatever your association with 'Lady Ranni', the fact she keeps Seluvis in her company speaks volumes about her intentions, or at the very least her conscience..."

He sets the potion aside for the time being, resting on the table for some minutes before finally grounding himself. It had been enough of a slap in the face when he'd taken Dolores, but to try and strike such a blow now against Nepheli as well? Seluvis' time is growing shorter by the day.

"How many more were there, if you can recall?"

A man who he had once or twice seen around the Roundtable Hold has appeared once again, this time with what looks like precious cargo. Using a burlap cloth as a sling, he carries someone on his back, their body and resting on the grafted man's back.

He carries them into his study room. He is straight to the point.

"Is this Dolores? Do you know her?" He sounded slightly winded, as if he sped his way towards here to ask this.

@elorne-the-grafted

The events unfold quickly enough, someone barging into his study with what appears to be a corpse fastened to his back. Someone who's indulged in grafting at that.

It's like ice water down his spine when the words reach his ears.

"Dolores-wait, Dolores, the Sleeping Arrow. You have her?" There's an audible clatter of books as he shoves the stacks of tomes off the table before waving the man in.

"By the Erdtree-get in here man, mind the door!"

[allknowingofnir]

The ice down his spine becomes an abyssal pit in his stomach. He has heard of the work Seluvis has done, known of it for years, but something, someone so close to all of them, let alone himself.

He grips the table, head lurching forward. The abyss in his stomach finds itself at the back of his throat, and he's doing all he can to choke back bile. He would've been happy to be handed her corpse, maybe ashes in a weathered container. But this?

It is a living death. Whether a mind lingers in there, he cannot fathom it, there is no light in her eyes. His fingers drag across the table, and in spite of the sanctuary in place, the gauntlets carve visible trails in the aged wood, the ancient boards curling under the metal grips.

"She and I are, were... close, yes. The only one smarter than me in this entire hold... maybe even the Lands Between. She knew by intuition alone, so very much-" He finds himself back in the present, the cascade of emotions subsiding a moment. He knows little about Elorne, this man, this grafted thing. He could be party to it for all he knows.

"You... have my thanks in returning her at last, but I must know. How did you get her?"

A man who he had once or twice seen around the Roundtable Hold has appeared once again, this time with what looks like precious cargo. Using a burlap cloth as a sling, he carries someone on his back, their body and resting on the grafted man's back.

He carries them into his study room. He is straight to the point.

"Is this Dolores? Do you know her?" He sounded slightly winded, as if he sped his way towards here to ask this.

@elorne-the-grafted

The events unfold quickly enough, someone barging into his study with what appears to be a corpse fastened to his back. Someone who's indulged in grafting at that.

It's like ice water down his spine when the words reach his ears.

"Dolores-wait, Dolores, the Sleeping Arrow. You have her?" There's an audible clatter of books as he shoves the stacks of tomes off the table before waving the man in.

"By the Erdtree-get in here man, mind the door!"

[allknowingofnir]

A man who he had once or twice seen around the Roundtable Hold has appeared once again, this time with what looks like precious cargo. Using a burlap cloth as a sling, he carries someone on his back, their body and resting on the grafted man's back.

He carries them into his study room. He is straight to the point.

"Is this Dolores? Do you know her?" He sounded slightly winded, as if he sped his way towards here to ask this.

@elorne-the-grafted

The events unfold quickly enough, someone barging into his study with what appears to be a corpse fastened to his back. Someone who's indulged in grafting at that.

It's like ice water down his spine when the words reach his ears.

"Dolores-wait, Dolores, the Sleeping Arrow. You have her?" There's an audible clatter of books as he shoves the stacks of tomes off the table before waving the man in.

"By the Erdtree-get in here man, mind the door!"

[allknowingofnir]

"The only life I've known has been inside these Lands Between." He says that with some sense of honor, though his words have some bitterness to them toward the end.

"The Roundtable's always been home, conducting campaigns with Godfried and the others before the light left our eyes. I was buried with honors, or so I was told. I was after all, dead at the time." He laughs coarsely at that.

"I never lived long enough to see the Exile, something I count myself fortunate. These Lands are beautiful, accursed, stagnant, and in dire need of lordship, but beautiful. I suppose they were called the Badlands for a reason... though, if you do need a better account, you should speak to my daughter, Nepheli."

"Ah, so, you've come. I suppose you're in need of knowledge from one who has it, eh?"

[allknowingofnir]

" . . ." He looks at Fyra, then back to the glass.

"I knew that." He takes the glass of milk and sips it quietly.

Here for your old bones.

"Where's the purple umbrella though like the other one had?"