sheyri

[sheyri]

Verdammt gönnt den Postillon-Autoren doch mal EINE Pause

[sheyri]

I think it's a misuse of your big platform to allow the spreading of transgenderism! We do not need those freaks on this earth

I need those freaks actually, and I'm going to use my platform to spread transgenderism like Judas spread his legs for Jesus.

[sheyri]

Why are we debating this on a German news outlet?

Before that, two other experts said yes, this is a nazi salute. But we have to show the opposite opinion too, I guess?

And not just that, we have to infantilise autistic people in the process.

This poor autistic man fell victim to neonazis overrunning his platform. Very sad. But he could never be like that himself! He's just a little awkward, trying to show that his heart goes out to people. You see, he's autistic, that's just how these people are. They can't possibly know a certain infamous gesture is bad. Their brains are too dumb for that.

(And "suffer" from autism? Wow. Just wow.)

He may or may not be autistic, that's not my place to judge. But there's no excuse to be this unaware, especially if he wants to be the genius he claims to be. And there are less aggressive ways to express your heart goes out to people.

In conclusion, this is a nazi salute and if he doesn't know that, he needs to go back to school and shouldn't be anywhere near a position of power.

Ach fuckin

[sheyri]

Tomes upon tomes have been written to warn young mages about the moral perils of the necromantic arts – won’t stop him though, he can’t read.

[sheyri]

Old watercolor sketchbook of Enderal characters and friend's Prophets.

[sheyri]

Sagt mal Leute, was ist denn da los? Warum ist Das fleißige Lieschen nicht in der Mediathek? Wie soll ich denn ab Mittwoch meinen Spatort Rewatch machen, wenn der erste Teil fehlt?

Und warum ist Das Herz der Schlange zweimal drin? Und überhaupt, warum sind die nicht alle dauerhaft verfügbar? Wir zahlen teures Geld für unser Queerbaiting!

[sheyri]

WIE? NUR NOCH EINE WOCHE BIS ZUM NÄCHSTEN SPATORT?? IST ES WIRKLICH WAHR??

[sheyri]

The only acceptable ending if you fail to save him.

Rhalâta questline, alternate ending

[sheyri]

Horse breed of the day: Black Forest

Height: 14-16 hh

Common coat colors: Predominantly flaxen chestnut

Place of origin: Germany

[sheyri]

We're making slow progress again!

I'm back in Gothic! Have to beat it by the end of March, when I meet someone who's working on the remake.

We're starting off with a classic: sleepy time!

I quickly beat up Lefty (finally), then it was time for the big event. Those cultist really know how to throw a party! The DJ even knocked himself out!

Then back to work, stoned and hungover by the look on my guys face. Which is not a good combination when you have to fight orcs on your own. Because cowardly Talas ran off again, and the others are all... asleep.

Next up we'll have to deal with even more orcs. And I'm running low on food and health potions. And I only have one trusty Fleischwanzenragout! This is a disaster!

[sheyri]

So that's how he got the burn scars on his face...

Exploding him

[sheyri]

Yoooo threw together some Enderal stuff at work. I’ll even pin it for a while cause I’m feeling brave. First time in a year that I actually wrote something. First time in. Uh. Five years? Since I last wrote fanfiction.

Just some stupid little thing. Didn't do any research, didn't look up the actual game dialogue, probably forgot how to English in some places, didn’t do anything to polish it for any audience cause it’s 100% self-indulgent. So if you have any expectations, that’s unfortunate.

Enjoy. Or at least try :D

It seemed to Tealor Arantheal as if the weather had gone mad alongside the people and animals lately. Unnaturally strong winds had come from the sea and beaten down on the city for days now. The previous day had then brought a thunderstorm that was still raging now in the dead of night. He almost didn’t need the lantern on his desk with the frequent lightning that threw bizarre shadows on the walls. 

It was not the worst storm he had to weather. Not by far. The Nehrimese mages and his own Keepers did what they could with unearthing the secrets of the Pyreans and their struggle against the Cycle, but it always felt like it wasn’t enough. He himself tried his best to battle the nagging suspicion, gathered the findings and tried to decide on a course of action. He had always been a man who got things done and who found comfort in being able to carve his own path, for himself, the Order and his people. If only it didn’t feel like an integral part was missing. The one puzzle piece that would connect the others and give them the strength to really push back against fate. 

They needed the prophet.

Tealor rubbed his eyes and suppressed a yawn before he straightened in his chair again and blinked a few times until the documents in front of him came back into focus. It was way after midnight, and not the first night he stayed up way longer than he should. Maybe he did it to calm himself. Convince himself that he did everything he could. Like he did enough. He picked up the quill again, even though he didn’t know what to write. Was there really a point?

“I’ll do it.”

Tealor Arantheal was a seasoned warrior, that’s why his hand immediately jolted to the dagger on his belt as the low voice sounded a few steps to his right. Of course he brushed the inkwell on the way, the black quickly spread across the documents in front of him. 

Tealor bit back a curse and hastily grabbed the documents as the dark figure regarded him motionlessly.

“Prophet”, he managed, hopefully as dignified as his position demanded, despite the dripping papers in his hand. He put them back down with a sigh. “I am glad to see you here.”

That was not entirely true. How had the tall man managed to sneak into his study? The door was locked, the windows closed, not to mention the Keepers who stood watch. He looked to the door. One of his men was supposed to guard it.

The prophet followed his gaze, his near-black eyes invisible under his hood. He hadn’t worn that the last time they had met. The light armor was new too, though it looked like it had seen many battles already. Probably not acquired in a path-abiding way. 

The man had been gone for several weeks and managed to almost disappear completely during that time. Tealor’s informants had only brought him rumors. Some had said he had traveled east to the Powder Desert, some had heard he worked for the Rhalâta. 

“Your guards are alright, don’t worry.”

Not guards. Holy Keepers. “Then how did you get in?”

The man shrugged. “Window.”

The Grandmaster bit back a response. It was impossible. With the storm and rain outside, he would’ve noticed immediately if a window had been opened. “You could’ve announced your coming at the gate”, he just remarked. 

“Yes”, the prophet just said and left it at that. Water dripped from his dark coat and pooled on the stone tiles.

Manners seemed like a foreign concept to the pathless outlander. In fact, Tealor had been doubtful about the man from the moment he met him. He was the least appropriate person in all of Vyn to be the figurehead for their cause. Skilled in battle, yes, as far as he heard, but without any charisma whatsoever. He rarely talked, snuck around in the shadows and knew nothing about honor and dignity. Or manners, as he had proven yet again just now. Maybe at least the prominent scars on his face would persuade the people that he was an experienced fighter of some sort.

Tealor took a deep breath. He had worked with more difficult people under harder circumstances before, he told himself, and desperately tried to believe it. 

“However, I’m glad to see you here.”

The man tilted his head. “You already said that. So what do I do now?”

Deep breaths, Tealor. At least he had finally shown up and take responsibility. Filled out his predestined role. “There is one last formality before we can begin our work.”

No reaction, no movement. Couldn’t he at least pull back his hood and look him in the eyes?

“In order to be able to fully use our resources, you have to join our Holy Order.” It almost physically hurt to say the words. “You will become a Keeper.”

Was that a chuckle below the hood? Tealor wanted to strangle it out of the man.

“A pathless outlander? I thought the title Keeper meant something.”

Well. At least the prophet knew how people saw him. Apparently he had accustomed himself to the Endralean way of life in the past weeks. 

“It does. And it will continue to do so, despite all your efforts to drag the title into the gutter.”

The man whistled through his teeth. 

“Most others would kill for this opportunity”, Tealor added.

“People kill for fun or out of boredom.”

By Malphas, how Tealor despised this man. A Keeper protected life. This man seemed to utterly disregard its value. 

But he showed up. He wants to help. He is willing to support us, Tealor reminded himself. Clung to the thoughts like a drowning man. And hated himself for it. It felt like the man before him nullified everything he was, he symbolized, simply by standing there and - presumably - staring at him. Calmly. Effortlessly. Probably without even noticing that he did. 

Why did it have to be him? Why not some other cutthroat? A less unsettling one? A brigant, or maybe an undead lost one. Even a godsdamned Vatyr, for Malphas’ sake.

“You will meet up with Signet Leader Jorek Batarr for the Trial”, he managed. “He and two novices will leave for the Ritual Site tomorrow morning.”

A grin. “Would’ve been funny if I had returned a day or two later then. Or were you waiting for me all this time?”

The audacity. “I knew you’d eventually come around and face your responsibility”, Tealor just said. 

The prophet shrugged. “Seems like nobody else is taking care of the country. And I kinda need the coin and your resources.”

Tealor pressed his lips together and resisted the urge to defend the Holy Order. It would’ve been wasted on the pathless man. 

“Very well. You may rest in the dormitory tonight. Your group will leave for the Ritual Site tomorrow at sunrise.”

“I have business somewhere else”, the prophet retorted. “No time for sleep. Just tell me where this ritual site is, I’ll go there tomorrow.”

“The Trial is very demanding. It would be advised to rest beforehand.”

“I didn’t know Keepers had such a strict bedtime.” 

“I advise you to take this seriously. We are talking about the future of our world as we know it.”

“I do what I do, world or not. And, as the leader of this group, shouldn’t you be resting as well? I’m sure someone in your position has demanding tasks ahead of them as well.”

“You’d do well to remember who you are talking to.”

The man shrugged. “The leader of a group I’m not part of yet. And there’s nobody else around, no need to be all important and mighty.” He shook his coat a little and sent more water drops flying. “Now where’s that ritual site? Somewhere in that messed up forest I think?” He produced a map from somewhere inside his coat and dropped it on the desk with a wet ‘flap’. 

Stone-faced, Tealor reached for his quill again, dipped it in the leftover ink and wordlessly marked the spot on the moist parchment. It wasn’t a productive thought, but he hoped the so-called prophet would fall victim to some pus beetles on the way. Their poison was said to be extremely painful.

“Make sure to be punctual. And respect the site. It’s a holy place”, he advised.

“Ah, just like this temple then.”

Tealor reminded himself that the Ritual Site at least didn’t have any windows to climb through. It didn’t calm him down as much as he hoped.

“I’ll be off then.” The prophet stowed his map away and turned to the window. “Sleep well, leader man.”

He opened the window to howling wind and pouring rain before Tealor could say anything. A moment later he was on the window sill and outside the next. The window was pushed closed, the storm was silenced again, the prophet gone. 

“Malphas save us all”, Tealor muttered to himself, absently staring first at the rain puddles on the floor, then the ink stains on his desk. Had the prophets in previous Cycles been anything like this one? Maybe they were the reason all those previous civilizations had failed? Previous emperors had probably strangled them or thrown themselves off some high towers. 

He straightened his shoulders and shrugged off the past. He couldn’t blame them, but he would succeed where they had failed. He just had to stay strong. Remind himself that he was well-prepared and capable of succeeding. He had survived imprisonment and escape, he had united former enemies to fight for a higher cause. A single suspicious figure without manners was hardly a challenge.

Right?

[sheyri]

What where some funny encounters where the other person didn't know you're in a poly relationship?

Ramsay

“That little alchemist of yours. He doesn't really love you.” “And what makes you say that?” “I just saw him kissing another man. Big, strong guy, dark skin and short hair, hard to miss. I'd prefer him as a boyfriend, too, you know.” “Wait, Callum's in town? That little shit didn't tell me he'd be home today!” stunned silence from the other person; that clearly didn't go as intended

Ash

“You're dating both the Kendrick guy and Lord Thorne, right?” “Yeah.” “How did you make them agree to that? Tolerate you having another partner?” “Easy. They love each other.”

Callum

“And bring your partner along!” “Which one?” amused chuckle “You have more than one?” “Yes.” “Wait, what?”

[sheyri]

i literally dont care what your excuse for using AI is. if you didnt put your own effort into making it im not putting my own effort into interacting with it.

[sheyri]

just learned about farming simulator

I mean, I already knew about it, but I just learned about it

Did you know that the target audience for Farming Simulator is actual real-world farmers? Because I didn’t. I just assumed that farmers probably don’t want to go home from a day of farming to do some (presumably highly inaccurate) virtual farming?

Like, imagine if the target audience for Power Washing Simulator was actual professional power washers.

Farming Sim gets sponsored by companies and shit to put ads in their games. But since the game is for farmers, all of the ads target farmers. Advertising products that, realistically, only farmers would be interested in. Aka John Deere tractors and shit.

There’s a fucking farming sim esports league. Where do they play? Agriculture conventions. not gaming conventions. agriculture conventions.

[sheyri]

Do you feel empty-handed?

Maybe Sword is right for you!