#above my yurt

[theinternetisaweboflies]

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

Hi, I'd like to build a planet with land across the entire planet that is mostly an alpine. I'm thinking that the majority of the land will be tall mountains with almost all shorelines being tall cliffs so even areas close to the ocean can quickly become tall mointains. Places near the equator will have the highest mountains to offset being closer to the sun. How about resources though? What would be abundant, what puld lack? How about other geographical features and conditions that allow a planet to look like this?

Tex: What happens when the tectonic plates meet? Mountains are created via only one type of plate movement (Wikipedia), but due to physics the opposite side of that plate would create the opposite result (Wikipedia). In order to dissipate the forces caused by a plate causing convergent and divergent boundaries, the horizontal movements of a transformation fault would develop (Wikipedia).

Resources can be boiled down to approximately two things: what grows in water, and what grows in soil. For the former, oceans, seas, lakes, and related areas would need to exist and be large enough to develop life of higher trophic levels. For the latter, it would need enough erosion of rocks to create soil, and be propagated by bacteria to facilitate a healthy environment to propagate photosynthetic life and the upper trophic levels that rely on it. (Birds exist, but also birds must roost, so for all intents and purposes they rely on what grows in soil.)

Anything that has above-water places high enough to create what we would subjectively perceive as mountains would have to be an extremely geologically-active planet, where the plates are constantly moving. This would mean things like lots of volcanoes, and likely an atmosphere saturated in gases like sulfur. Extremophiles can grow in these conditions, but because of energy conservation in a geologically-hostile environment, they’re not likely to grow very big.

If you wish for something different, it might be a “dead” planet, in which there’s little geological activity and the state of things like mountain ranges and placement of oceans are effectively locked into place. This would mean an inert core, and possibly a dying planet or else one in a solar system where it’s faced with a dying sun or outside the goldilocks zone of a reasonably active sun.

Addy: So, resources. That's my jam. If you've got a heavily alpine area, you're generally on mountains or mountain slopes, which generally means you're going to be on a whole bunch of rock. That rock could be sedimentary or metamorphic (igneous is also possible, basalt mountains do exist), but it's still rock. Things that rely on heavy amounts of soil - sand, clay, loam, otherwise - will struggle to form into industries.

You might have 3-4 feet of soil ("soil" includes sections that are mostly gravel – if you're looking for dirt, probably only a foot or two). Looking at a couple examples, I'd say you're probably going to get sandy loam, loamy sand, and gravelly loam. Great drainage, not good for food crops. Since you're alpine, that's going to mean you're above the tree line, so timber is going to be scarce as well. Neutral pH to somewhat alkaline, if that matters to ya. Also, above the tree line, the winds get to be very, very harsh - harsh enough that most plants can't survive up there, so crops are doubly not an option.

If you've got a freeze-thaw cycle, then the ground is going to sprout rocks every year in the spring (literally, the freeze-thaw cycle pushes rocks up towards the surface from under the ground, so you get new rocks in your fields every spring as it starts to thaw), so stone for walls and homes will be plentiful. Insulation will likely come from packed earth (e.g. Icelandic turf homes) or animal hides (e.g. yurts). Without good soil for growing, you're going to likely see a lot of animal husbandry - yaks, goats, oxen, and sheep. Maybe small horses, but no large horses; large, Western horse breeds don't do well if they're only grazing - they generally have feed grown for them. Draft horses are large enough that they have to have food grown for them. But ponies are an option.

Your sand will likely be difficult to get separated from the loam/gravel, so glass will be a tricky industry. Clay will be hard to find, so pottery is limited. Also limiting those industries is a lack of easily available fuel - without timber or peat, you've got limited options on what you have available to burn.

If, by alpine, you're also talking about mountain slopes (and maybe valleys?), then you'll have lots of timber. Lots and lots and lots of timber, so long as you don't clear-cut. Berries will be plentiful in the spring and fall, you'll generally have a decent supply of water, you can grow crops if you're careful about your growing seasons (and the ground acts as a refrigerator, so root cellars and similar structures act as a way to preserve food through the winter months), and you've got wild game to supplement. 

Animal husbandry is still an option, though you'll almost certainly need to grow feed to keep them fed over the winter. Goats would do better than sheep, I think, but birds (chickens, ducks, partridge, geese) would probably be the easiest animal to raise. With birds, you'll also get down, which will help for quilts and bedding to keep yourself warm at night. Sheep/goats will get you wool, which will be good for clothing to keep warm. If you've got different animals, whatever birds/mammals they've got nearby that can fill the niche.

For fuel, you've got wood and charcoal. Charcoal is made from wood, and it burns hotter and cleaner than wood. Good for large kitchens… or for kilns. Or for metalworking. Or for writing/art. Wood is easier to get, and more suitable to everyday use.

Valleys tend to accumulate clay, gravel, or sand, depending on how fast the water flows. Steep slopes mean fast water, so you'll mostly get gravel. Mild slopes mean slow water, so you'll get a lot of clay (such as many river deltas, where they meet the ocean). Moderate slopes mean medium-speed water, so you'll get sand (or sand with gravel). River sand may not get you high-quality glass, but you can still make basic glass out of it. When the rivers freeze in the winter, you'll have lots of ice. That can be stored underground in ice houses, so that you have ice year-round.

For lime/quicklime, you'll need shells (so beach) or limestone (so depends on mountains type). Lime is used for a variety of things - making mortar for bricks, removing impurities when making iron, making concrete, etc - but you need limestone (or shells, like oyster shells) and fuel to make it. So that really depends on the type of stone the mountains are made of.

Salt may or may not be plentiful, depending on what the mountains are made of. You've got very little ocean access (since cliffs), so drying out seawater for salt isn't going to be effective for large-scale production.

Either way (with or without trees), trade will be difficult. Overland trade will have to deal with snow, ice, and uneven terrain (plus possible food issues for pack animals). Sea-based trade would have to deal with getting goods up or down those massive cliffs without damaging or dropping them..  and also getting people down there, too. Huge altitude changes.

Wootzel: If your main concern is having your planet chilly, you could look at Earth during the last ice age as inspiration. This would probably result in having a planet with a LOT of nigh-unlivable area near the poles, but it could be a way to make most of your land quite cold without having to rely as heavily on high altitudes, if that’s something you want to look into.

[qierxing]

Airtight

Yan! Ayato Kamisato + Tohma x Reader

To covet is to desire something you don’t have.

—

Tohma is someone you could rely on.

It's what he's praised for, obviously, as his nickname among the locals isn't just for show. He's kind and friendly, the most congenial to any kind of person. His ability to mediate arguments and find solutions is invaluable. 

Quite frankly, you could use some of that 'fixer' energy. It seems like he could never lose his passion or energy as he bustled about helping with chores and small errands of the townspeople.

You just don't like that his help came with a leash.

The yurt has been cleaned and the tea table is set with whatever traditional Inazuman silverware the caravan could scrounge up. You could only hope they don't look too closely to see how several cups and plates are not matching patterns in the ceramic. Your people were traders; but they weren't merchants, and there was never a need for priceless antiques. 

"I'm grateful for this chance to meet." Lord Kamisato says with a closed eye smile. A clear pond reflecting only its surroundings. Tohma kneels next to him with his back ramrod straight. An obedient dog heeling for its master.

Your assistant looks over to you nervously, signaling with her eyes 'to smile, don't piss him off!' as she wrings her hands. She's always been bad at masking her anxiety in difficult negotiations. No matter how much you chastise her, she's never been able to completely get rid of the habit.

"Likewise." Your response is measured and civil. Not warm, but not cold either. A cool, fresh breeze that barely disturbs the water.

It's more than what he deserves, to be honest. If you weren't restrained by manners and decorum, you would have liked to choke him to death yourself. This bastard was the cause for everything to go wrong for the caravan. 

But you can't linger on that now. You pour the hot green tea into their cups, as per the tradition in Inazuma as their host. You can only hope that they burn their tongues on it and never speak again.

"It is sad to see the famous Djinn caravan leave–its presence will be quite missed." When Lord Kamisato opens his eyes again, you only see yourself reflected in the clear water. "Our Archon, glory to the Almighty Raiden Shogun, would surely allow you to stay if you wish it."

A vein in your forehead throbs. Hah…as if that was the problem. No, it was the fact that your people should've been able to travel outside of Inazuma's borders since the Sakoku degree dropped. 

"I'd like to go visit home in Sumeru," Your assistant had once said, with a melancholic look on her face, "but only if we can! Don't worry too much about it!"

It's cruel, you think as you take a sip of tea, of how much others like to view your people as nothing more than entertainment. Outsiders, with strange traditions and customs that are the amalgamation of many different cultures mixing. Too many times have you been gawked at for your clothing and jewelry by whispering adults and children who pointed. There are those who turn their nose whenever your people ask for help, so ingrained in the idea of how these barbarians are taking over their town.

And in Inazuma, where foreigners were already looked down upon? It has already long worn down the morale of everyone.

"My people are nomads, Lord Kamisato." Tohma gulps at the way you pointedly reply over your cup. "We go wherever and whenever we wish. It's not in our nature to stay in one place for long."

"Not unlike your Vision, hm?" 

The air warps and shudders. Tohma doesn't have to even look to know you're drawing from your Vision, sending its aura pulsating around the room. Its message is clear.

Back off.

Tohma has seen Anemo users tap into their Vision before. He's watched the samurai Kaedahara summon wind drafts to send him floating high above; witnessed detective Shikanoin pulling from the air currents to send enemies flying. But he has never seen someone use it like you. 

It's like you're aware of how the air settles around the yurt, how it envelopes and encompasses not just the people, but the entire room. It's not that you draw from it, but more of how you simply will the air to compress, not unlike how a human breathes with their lungs. And you did it all without so much of a blink of an eye.

"Humans are not animals to be contained, Lord Kamisato." Somehow, your voice is still level as Tohma stares in awe. "We are beings with our own wills. And my people long to travel to other lands."

He has the nerve to chuckle with a smile with no sincerity. You'd like to throw your cup of tea at him, but it'd be a waste of tea and ceramic.

"Of course, I would never imply such a thing about our dear friends."

"But at this time, there are not any big barges that can take you for a while–and I've heard that the Crux has been hired for mercenary work and will not be back for at least half a year!" Tohma leans in, worry painted across his features. It seems genuine at least in comparison to his master.

Now you realize why Lord Kamisato hasn't been pushing. He's simply letting his guard dog do the work, simply arranging the negotiations like a go board for the pieces to fall in place.

"My people can find a way." You force the statement out with gritted teeth. "And if it means building our own boats, so be it."

Your assistant glances over in alarm and you feel your guard behind you shift. Ok, it's a partial lie that your people could, but you had complete faith that if they couldn't, your desperation could get you leagues away from here. From him.

Lord Kamisato starts laughing. It's not a reserved fake one, but a full belly genuine laugh that makes his eyes crinkle and lips and mole stretch. Even Tohma is caught off guard, the action so rare that he barely expected it himself.

"Goodness, there's no need for all that. What kind of people would we be if our guests had to find their own way home?” He leans in with a conspiratorial smile. 

"Perhaps in exchange, the fair leader of the caravan can give up some of their time?"

You wonder again if you could get away with splashing tea on his face.

[kayssweetdreams]

A "Perfect" Vacation Ch 23

Meanwhile, With Dolly, Roland and Misère...

Dolly didn't feel safe sleeping in the hotel. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded her a bit too much about her time back at PPP, or Ka Lā's attitude, or Maybe it was the fact that they were invited by a woman they have never even HEARD of before. But either way, she just didn't feel safe.

Even with her dad and Misère around, she couldn't help but get the same uneasy vibes that she had around Madame Prim, whenever Ka Lā came around her. "Don't worry Dolly. Maybe we can ask Ka Lā to give us a ride back to the mainland." Roland suggested, hugging his daughter and trying to keep her calm. "I have to admit...I can't help but feel a little uneasy here too." Misère said, her eyes shifting back and forth.

"Dad. You think that the others feel the same way? After all, Yuri and Kaylo had the same 'treatment' as me..." Dolly admitted, hoping her father would understand. "I think they do. If you don't feel comfortable, we can leave. After all. It's not like this is the school again." Roland said, rubbing his daughter's back, trying to keep her calm. "How about this: We find Ka Lā and ask her for a ride back to the mainland in the morning." He suggested. Dolly, while happy that her father acknowledged her fear, was also nervous about staying on the island for one more day.

"Don't worry Dolly, Everything will be OK." Roland said as he got comfortable in the tent he set up. No matter how much Ka Lā insisted, Roland refused to stay inside one of the room, instead, he brought a portable tent (a YURT. As he says) and set it directly in the forest, Claimed that it felt more like home. Dolly also had her own tent, but for some odd reason, she lost hers after one night. "Ok...Good night Dad." Misère said, making herself comfortable on a nearby hammock "Good thing that it's a warm night tonight." She said to herself as she closed her eyes.

However, the next time Dolly opened her eyes, she saw that she, her dad, and Misère were strapped down to 3 metal tables. Panicking, Dolly began shouting for them to wake up "Dad! Dad wake up! Misère! Get up!" She yelled. Unfortunately, her words were in vain, the two adults were knocked out. Struggling, Dolly attempted to wiggle out of her restaints, but to no avail. "Oh I wouldn't bother if I were you." A scarily familiar voice said. Dolly tensed up. She knew that voice ANYWHERE...and she didn't want to.

"M-MOM?!" She screamed in terror, watching as Ka Lā stepped out of the shadows. Dolly's breathing grew erratic. "K-KA LĀ?! BUT-HOW-BUT-YOU'RE" the girl sputtered, panicking as she saw the woman getting closer. "Now Dolly dear...it's improper for a girl to stutter." 'Ka Lā' said, making Dolly thrash and panic even more as she was now standing directly above her. "BUT HOW?! THE POLICE ARRESTED YOU!!" Dolly yelled, unable to fathom how her perfection obsessed mother was HERE. Although she was JUST arrested on the news. "Oh Dolly. You know that the quest for perfection never rests." Prim said, in a almost mocking voice.

"W-What do you want? I live with dad now and your school is destroyed. I have nothing you could want." Dolly said with as much bravery as she could in her voice. As much as she was terrified to see Prim again, she would NOT let her have the upper hand, and Fear her. Prim's eyes narrowed "Ah yes. Your stupid flower-loving, Tree-hugging hippie of a father has completely warped your mind. And my school is now in shambles, thanks to that bug loving brat, and her pink haired demonic friend. But don't worry...Mother is going to fix it all once more. Along with your new sisters." She said in a strangely calm voice.

Dolly grew confused. "Huh? What sisters? I'm an only child." She said. "Not anymore you're not. You and you're going to be a PERFECT role model." Prim said, her perfection crazed smile shining as she stood back...and revealed Yuri and Kaylo, everything that made them special gone, their eyes duller than a dull blade. The two of them gazed at Dolly and Prim with emotionless smiles.

"Good Day Dolly. Hello Mother..."

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Gen, Boy King AU

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

Gingerbread Men

---

Kíli sat on his pile of hides, shoved his feet into his boots and reached for the coat his father had given him some days before. It was brown leather and trimmed in fur, the lining thick and warm; much larger than his old one, fitted to accommodate the growth he’d undergone since the last cold season.

He stood and padded over the layers of rugs to the closed flaps of his family’s wide, vaulted yurt tent. Behind him, his grandmother slept, snoring softly under a mound of blankets. She was more becoming more frail, hunched, awake for shorter pockets of time. Kíli felt her loss as if it was already upon him.

Bracing himself for the cold morning that awaited him beyond the tent, Kíli pulled open the flaps and stepped outside. Snow drifted from above, dusting the trees and ground in a thin layer of white. It wasn’t sticky yet, mostly melting, but what stayed made the slumbering forest feel less eerie.

Kíli was barely thirteen, new to his long limbs and thickening muscles, moving somewhat awkwardly though with an air of confidence.

At the center of the caravan—the circle of large and small tents and wagons—his mother stoked the cooking fire, quietly instructing Fíli to hand her items one at a time and guiding him through her actions.

After Kíli had closed and wrapped the tent flaps, he stood, watching his mother and Fíli prepare a wide cast-iron pan, rubbing oil into its pores.

It had been three years since Kíli’s father had found Fíli, caught and swaying upside-down, in one of the noose traps Kíli’s father had set the day before. Fíli, the Lost Prince of Erebor, never uttering a word.

No one knew apart from Kíli who Fíli was. It was a secret Kíli held close to his heart and he was determined never to betray Fíli’s trust. He’d promised, after all, out loud and to Fíli’s face.

A flicker of movement in the corner of Kíli’s eye caught his attention and he turned to see a little girl skipping along, her hand in her mother’s. Lana, the girl, tugged her mother’s arm, clearly signalling her mother to stop where they were since her mother did so. Lana dug into a basket her mother had hooked over one elbow, and pulled out a shiny, tin bauble painted a brilliant red.

Lana’s mother placed the basket down at her feet and then lifted the girl into her arms so that Lana could reach a thin, low-hanging branch on one of the trees. Lana hung the bauble there and gestured for another, her mother obliging, crouching down and plucking another decoration from the basket. They continued like this under there was a string of baubles along the branch, and then they moved on.

As Kíli looked around, he noticed several trees surrounded their camp were adorned with baubles in various shapes and colors—some gold or silver, others bright green and red. Nested in the firs were ropes of dyed, burlap garland, and polished holders with unlit beeswax-yellow candles.  

            “Plannin’ to stand there all day, boy, or can you make yourself useful?” The sound of Kíli’s mother’s rich mahogany voice spurred Kíli into action.

He moved toward his mother and Fíli, who greeted Kíli with a demure smile.

            “Sorry Ma,” Kíli said, settling on the low, thin working bench and pressing himself flush against Fíli’s side. “I forgot it’s almost Christmas!”   

            “That it is, my love.” His mother gave Kíli a warm look, reach across Fíli to rake a hand through Kíli’s hair fondly. “And now you’re going to help Fíli with these biscuits. We need enough for everyone, so no pilfering any before it’s time.”

Kíli’s mother stared at him with warning before standing, brushing of her skirts, and stepping around the bench to stand behind Kíli. She dipped forward and pressed a kiss to Kíli’s head, saying in a whisper, “Show him how it’s done.”

And then she spun around and walked to her sister’s wagon. Likely to take inventory of their herbs and healing tinctures. His mother, Dis, and her coven managed their camp’s healing and care, a more pressing issue in the winter months. And, of course, since the War of All Lands began three years ago, on the night before they recovered Fíli from the trap.  

Kíli felt a hand squeeze his knee and was brought back to the present, Fíli bopping his forehead against Kíli’s in a gesture Kíli had learned meant Fíli wanted his attention. Kíli grinned and set to work, asked Fíli for the bowl of dough he’d spotted before he sat down.

He showed Fíli how to warm the dough, rolling small globs of his between their hands, before flattening their pieces on the floured wooden trays they’d put in their laps. They cut the dough into different shapes using tools one of the camp’s crafters formed for Kíli’s mother as a gift after he’d been taking in—another refugee of the war.

Little men and sharp trees and perfect circles Kíli would drizzle the shape of a snowflake on after the biscuits were cooked and cooled.

Fíli and Kíli worked together most of the day, bumping elbows and shoving each other when Kíli told a particularly exaggerated story. It was peaceful and pleasant, and Kíli yearned for every day to be like this with Fíli.

But he knew, one day, things would change. Fíli was the Lost Prince and until the Bone Soldiers found him, the war would never end. Rumours had already spread that the Usurper King had sent out a special party to capture and kill Fíli, former kings twisted by evil and turned into sinister things for the Usurper King to use.

Kíli didn’t tell Fíli any of this, though he knew Fíli had some idea, alert and wary at the rustle of leaves or the snap of every twig in the distance.

Things couldn’t be like this, traveling as a merry troupe across the land, baking ginger biscuits and hanging baubles in trees and—their happiness would end one day.

Kíli watched Fíli flatten more dough under his palm, his golden hair braided away from his face, a face that looked sharper and more grown up than Kíli remembered it. Like Kíli, he had grown, his body thicker and broader and more mature. Not the soft, pink child he’d been when he and Kíli met.

Fíli must have felt Kíli’s eyes on him because he paused in his motions and turned his head to meet Kíli’s eyes, blue-grey eyes searching Kíli’s. He was beautiful, Kíli realized, a strange warmth stirring in his belly.

As before, Fíli leaned forward to bump his forehead against Kíli’s, but Kíli stopped him with a hand to Fíli’s chest.

They stared at each other, Fíli questioningly, Kíli a little uncertain. And then Kíli swept in, quick as you please, and brushed a faint kiss to Fíli’s lips. Nothing meaningful or profound. Just a light touching of skin.

Fíli’s blinked at Kíli afterward and, for a few mortifying moments, Kíli felt that he’d made a huge mistake. That is until a joyous smile spread across Fíli’s face and he nodded. Kíli had no idea why he was nodding, however, he nodded back, chuckling with nerves.

They turned their attention back to the biscuits and continued their work, accepting praise from Kíli’s mother when she came to inspect how they were getting on.

She knelt on Fíli’s other side, picking up a few of the gingerbread men one at a time, and gave both boys a proud look. Fíli beamed back, glancing between Kíli and Kíli’s mother, happy as could be, everything he’d lost, all the terror and pain he’d endured, a distant memory.

And Kíli decided that he would forever more do his best to bring that happiness to Fíli. No matter what nasty king or evil power tried to rip it away from Fíli, Kíli would be there to remind Fíli that happiness existed.

Always.

[e-b-reads]

Mid Year Book Freak Out

@agardenandlibrary tagged me a while ago, thank you!

Number of books you’ve read so far: 102 (though when we were actually halfway through the year I think it was like 90)

Best book you’ve read so far in 2024: Look, you see how many books I've read, it's very hard to choose a single "best," but To Shape a Dragon's Breath was very good.

Best sequel you’ve read so far in 2024: I also read a lot of series. Um, I enjoyed the Sarah Tolerance series (second book: Petty Treason) overall, and shout out to Harrow the Ninth and Nona the Ninth for being the kind of sequels that keep revealing things while also creating more questions.

New release you haven’t read yet but want to: I don't keep up with new releases very closely; I would like to read The Grief of Stones which isn't super new anymore, but I still haven't gotten around to it!

Most anticipated release for the second half of the year: See above re: following releases. Anything you all think I should be looking out for?

Biggest surprise favorite new author (debut or new to you): I'm not actually counting this as one of the 102 books yet cause I haven't finished it, but I'm finally reading Michelle Obama's memoir (Becoming) and I'm surprised how much I'm enjoying it!

Newest fictional crush: I read The Game of Kings a month or two ago, and he's not quite there yet, but I could probably nurture a crush on Francis Lymond.

Book that made you cry: My Brother Sam is Dead definitely got me tearing up.

Most beautiful book you’ve bought so far this year (or received): I mostly get books out of the library and don't pick them specifically for beauty. Which is not to say I don't pay attention to covers, and I did buy A Bad Spell in Yurt for it's cover, though not exactly cause it's beautiful?

Book that made you happy: Neither fully for plot reasons, but: The Nubian's Curse (despite maybe iffy title) because it was the latest in a series I like, so it made me happy to get; also Call the Nurse (which is a kind of cute and cozy read) because it was a gift from a friend who really wanted me to read it and spent a while finding it for me.

What books do you need want to read by the end of the year?: Keeping in the edit because I don't need to read anything except maybe for class. I would like to finish Becoming (getting there) and read The First Rumpole Omnibus, which I bought recently. Otherwise, who knows!

Not tagging anyone because it is now decidedly more than midway through the year, but feel free to do this if you'd like! tag me in your answers!

[macgyvermedical]

Off Grid Living

My Pleasure!

First, while there are several different definitions, when I say "off grid", I generally mean not hooked up to utilities. Not being hooked up to utilities usually also involves living somewhere smaller and simpler- like a tiny house, wall tent, yurt, or cabin.

There is a thriving community of people who have decided, for whatever reason, to not hook up to utilities. Some reasons someone might decide to live off grid include:

Environmental reasons- you can't use power, water, or gas (or at least you have to use a LOT less) if you don't have a steady supply coming through your walls.

Prepping reasons- the term is "collapse now and avoid the rush", essentially, if you see the world around you going to heck, going off grid teaches you a lot of skills you may need (and teaches them on your own time) if utilities do go out or become unreliable in the future.

Economic reasons- Since you don't have power, water, and gas coming through your walls, you can be very deliberate about how you use these things, which generally means using a LOT less. And you pay as you use a resource instead of having to pay every month, so can easily reduce your resource use or go without if you need to.

Simplicity reasons- a lot of utilities means a lot of upkeep, payments, maintenance, and brainpower. Living in a way where you don't need utilities greatly reduces stress (at least as I have experienced it).

Privacy reasons- many people who live off grid live in a relatively rural area or live in an itinerant way, and don't want to deal with people much.

Incidental- utilities don't go where they live.

For my wife and I, it was a combination of all of the above.

The rest of this post is about how we meet our needs while living off grid.

Housing:

For us housing is a wall tent on an insulated wooden platform I built myself. It was my first time building something by myself that wasn't a fence, and I didn't do a particularly great job. But it's holding us up.

The wall tent is a 14x16 White Duck brand canvas tent. It gives us about 224sqft of floor space in one room. This is a stock image of the tent:

Vehicles:

We chose our vehicles to meet our lifestyle. We own a Prius (which is essentially a generator on wheels) and an F-250 (which is an all-purpose engine). Being a hybrid, the Prius can charge our home batteries without having to start the engine, and will re-charge it's own battery as it's idling, braking, or going down hills. The F-250 is a diesel and will be our general farm vehicle, tractor, as well as being able to haul large loads of firewood and manure.

Power:

We like electric light, and we like to charge our phones and computers. Other than that, though, we've realized it's not that hard to go without higher-power-consuming devices like water heaters, refrigerators, or stoves.

We have a Ryobi inverter, which makes it possible to run a few strands of twinkle lights and charge devices off of a drill battery. We have 4, 6-amp-hour batteries, which is about enough power to run our lights for about 8hours while charging our phones a few times over. These 4 batteries usually last us about 2-3 days. We then either charge them at a friend's house or off the Prius battery.

Heat and Cooking:

We live in Ohio, and it's winter, so we have a wood stove in our tent. It's a Nectre Bun Baker and if I had to do it over again, I'd get something with a bigger fire box.

But anyway, it's compact and has an oven and cooking surface, so the fire takes care of our heating and cooking needs. It takes about an hour to go from the inside of the tent being the same temperature as outside to warm enough to shower in front of.

It does tend to be chillier in here than the average house. Right now it's in the 40's outside and I don't even have the fire going. We got used to being a little colder very quickly and now other people's houses feel WAY too hot for comfort.

We currently just heat water on the wood stove if we want it warm for bathing or cleaning. Soon we are hoping to get a stock pot with a spigot to be a more permanent solution to our hot water needs. We'll still need to fill it as we empty it, but it will be ready when we are!

Water:

Speaking of water, we have 2 five-gallon jugs that we refill at a friend's house. We also have a small utility sink in the tent. We have a pump top that fits on the top of one of the jugs that sits on a table next to the sink. When we want water, we push the pump top and water "runs" out of a little spout so we can easily access water for drinking, dishes, cooking, laundry, bathing, and cleaning.

The sink's drain runs into a 5-gallon bucket that we empty by hand.

It's amazing how incredibly little water we use compared to how much we used before we moved here. One 5-gallon jug lasts us about 2 days (though I do use some water at work that doesn't factor in).

Hygiene:

Since we don't have a shower in the tent, we generally just get 3-4 cups of water that we heat on the stove. We then stand in a plastic basin and wash our hair, pits, crotch, butt, and feet. The water then goes to the grey water bucket. I do this monday-friday because I have a professional job, but my wife does it about every 3-4 days. Honestly I am so much less dry and itchy this time of year and I don't have to use any kind of conditioner or moisturizer. Teh problem is getting up early enough to get it warm enough in the tent that washing is comfortable.

I shave in a few tablespoons of water, but I have a beard, so I don't have much to shave.

Both of us wear deodorant, too, which helps.

Waste:

For poop and pee we use a composing toilet. The toilet diverts our urine into a 5-gallon bucket so we can use it for fertilizer. Our poop falls into another 5-gallon bucket that we cover with sawdust after every go. When that is full we take it to a compost pile we will not use for 3 years, when our pathogens are good and dead and the poop is fully composted into humanure.

For trash, if it's paper or cardboard we burn it as kindling for our fire. If it's a jar we generally use it for storage (we break a lot of these...), and if it's something we can't use (like plastic film) we either put it with a friend's trash or take it to a landfill directly.

Internet:

We have phones, and use them as hotspots when we need to post things to pay bills or post things to tumblr or whatnot.

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (#169):

3 by forgotten [re-discovered?] Turkish director, Metin Erksan:

🍿  Dry Summer, a mesmerizing 1964 Turkish masterpiece I never heard of before. It tells of a greedy peasant who refuses to share the water on his field with his neighbors, as well as his scheme to steal his younger brother's new bride. (Photo Above). A rustic tragedy featuring one of the most insidious screen villains ever. Highly recommended. 9/10.

It was championed and restored by Martin Scorsese's 'World Cinema Project'. (I'm going to start chewing through their list of preserved classics from around the world.)

🍿 Time to love (1965) is a fetishistic, probably-symbolic, melodrama about a poor house painter who falls in love with a wall portrait of a woman, but who can't or won't love the real person. Lots of brooding while heavy rains keep pouring down, and traditional oud music drones on. Strikingly beautiful black and white cinematography elevates this strange soap opera into something that Antonioni could have shot.

🍿 "May Allah's mercy be upon her! May Allah's mercy be upon her! May Allah's mercy be upon her!"

In 1974 Erksan directed the cheesy Seytan ("Satan"), a plagiarized, unauthorized Turkish rip-off of 'The Exorcist'. It was a schlocky, nearly a shot-by-shot copy, and included the blood spurting, head spinning, cursing, stairs, a young actress that looked strikingly like Linda Blair, and even extensive use of Mike Oldfield's 'Tubular Bells'. But it eliminated the Catholic element and had none of the superb decisions of the William Friedkin's version. 1/10.

🍿  

Agnès Varda's deceivingly blissful drama, Le Bonheur. Exquisite, subversive and beautifully simple, about an uncomplicated man who's completely happy with his idyllic life, his loving wife and two little children. But one summer day he takes on an attractive mistress, while still feeling uncommonly fulfilled and undisturbed. Varda lets the Mozart woodwind score do all the heavy interpretive lifting of this disturbing feminist take of the bourgeoisie. Just WOW! 8/10.

At this point, I should just complete my explorations of Varda's oeuvre, and see the rest of her movies. Also, I'm going to take a deep dive one day into the many terrific movies from 1965 (besides the many I've already seen, 'Red Beard', 'Simon of the desert', 'Repulsion', 'The spy who came in from the cold', 'Juliet of the spirit', 'Pierrot the fool'...).

/ Female Director

🍿

2 by amazing Bulgarian director Milko Lazarov:

🍿 Ága, my first Bulgarian film, but it plays somewhere in Yakutsk, south of the Russian arctic circle. An isolated old Inuit couple lives alone in a yurt on the tundra. Slow and spiritual, their lives unfold in the most unobtrusive way, it feels like a documentary. But the simplicity is deceiving, this is film-making of the highest grade, and once Mahler 5th was introduced on a small transistor radio, it's transcendental. The emptiness touched me deeply.

Together with 93 other movies, this was submitted by Bulgaria to the 2019 Oscars (the one won by 'Parasite'). How little we know; If selected, we might have all be talking about it. Absolutely phenomenal! The trailer represents the movie well. 10/10

(It also reminded me very much of the Bolivian drama 'Utama' from 2022, another moving story of an elderly Indian couple living alone in the desert, tending to their small flock of llamas.)

🍿 Milko Lazarov made only one earlier film, the minimalist Alienation in 2013. It tells of Yorgos, a middle age Greek man, (impassively played by the father from 'Dogtooth'), who crosses the border to Bulgaria to buy a newborn baby. But it's not as bad as it sounds, because he's actually helping the impoverished surrogate mother (who looks like young Tilda Swinton) who can't effort to keep him. Another stark and snail-like drama about quiet people who barely speak, told with the masterful language of a true poet. Like 'Ága', it too opens with a stunning close up of a lengthy incantation in an unfamiliar language. I wish he made more movies. 8/10.

🍿  

2 more arctic dramas:

🍿 The original movie about indigenous Inuks, Nanook of the North, from 1922, was the first feature-length documentary to achieve commercial success. An engaging slice of life of an Inuit family, even if some of the scenes were staged. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes.

🍿 "Many of the scientists involved with climate change agree: The end of human life on this planet is assured."

Another fascinating Werner Herzog documentary, Encounters at the end of the world. About the "professional dreamers" who live and work at McMurdo Station in Antarctica; divers who venture to explore life under the the ice, volcanologists who burrow into ice caves, etc. Herzog's 'secret sauce' is finding the most outrageous, interesting spots on earth, and then just going there and letting his camera do his bidding.

🍿

2 fantastic shorts by Hungarian animator Réka Bucsi:

🍿 Her 2014 Symphony No. 42 consists of 47 short & whimsical vignettes, without any rhyme or rhythm; A farmer fills a cow with milk until it overflows, a zoo elephant draws a "Help me" sign, a UFO sucks all the fish from the ocean, wolves party hard to 'La Bamba', an angry man throws a pie at a penguin, two cowboys holding blue balloons watch a tumbleweed rolls by, a big naked woman cuddle with a seal, etc. Earlier than Don Hertzfeldt's 'World of tomorrow' and my favorite Rúnar Rúnarsson's 'Echo', it's a perfect piece of surrealist chaos. 10/10

My happiest, unexpected surprise of the week!

/ Female Director

🍿 Love (2016), a lovely meditation on nature, poetry and cats in the cosmos. 8/10.

/ Female Director

🍿

Françoise Dorléac X 2:

🍿 Her name was Françoise ("Elle s’appelait Françoise") is a fluff bio-piece about the utterly gorgeous model-actress, who died at a fiery car-crush at 25, and who left a legacy of only a few important films. It includes previously-unseen, enchanting clips and photos from her short life. But then is cuts into her and sister Catherine Deneuve practicing their "Pair of Twins" song-and-dance from 'The Young Girls of Rochefort', the most charming musical in the world, and life is sunny again.

/ Female Director

🍿 That man from Rio, her breakthrough film, was a stupid James Bond spoof, inspired by 'The adventures of Tintin'. Unfortunately, it focused on protagonist Jean-Paul Belmondo, and used Dorléac only as eye-candy. It's the first film I've seen from Brasília, just a few years after it was constructed. 2/10.

🍿

Paintings and Film X 3:

🍿 'Painting Nerds' is a YouTube channel by 2 Scottish artists, putting up intelligent video essays about the art of painting. Paintings In Movies: From '2001: A Space Odyssey' to 'Portrait of a Lady on Fire' is an insightful meditation which explores the relationship between the two art forms. Among the many examples it touches on are the canvases in Hitchcock's 'Rebecca' and 'Vertigo', 'The French Dispatch', 'Laura' and 'I'm thinking of ending things'. They even made a Wellesian trailer for that essay, When Citizen Kane met Bambi : The Lost Paintings of Tyrus Wong!

🍿 So I decided to see some of the movies mentioned above, f. ex. Hitchcock's The Trouble with Harry from 1955. Famous for being Shirley MacLaine's film debut, his first collaboration with Bernard Herrmann, and this being his only "real" comedy. However, the only engaging element among the idiotic machinations on screen were the stunning VistaVision landscapes, painted in true Vermont autumn colors.

🍿 All the Vermeers in New York is my [5th film about Vermeer, and] my first film by prolific indie director Jon Jost. The Scottish essay above interpretated it as a "Charming mirroring of art and life, but also a deeply sad film... The gallery scene shows the transmission of feeling from painting to person, and ultimately, the vast amount of space between them. It plays out the entire drama of the film in microcosm.." But that Met Gallery scene was the only outstanding one in an otherwise disjointed experiment about the NYC art world. The abrasive stockbroker who falls for a French actress at the museum and mistakes her for a woman from the painting was mediocre and irritating. 3/10.

🍿

First watch: Jim Jarmusch's Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, an homage to Melville's Le Samouraï. An RZA mood piece about a ritualistically-chill black assassin / Zen Sensei, who communicates only with carrier pigeons, and who drives alone at night in desolate streets on mafia missions. 'Live by the Code, die by the Code'.

🍿

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore, Scorsese's only melodrama with a female protagonist (? - haven't seen 'Boxcar Bertha' yet). It opens in a tinted Wizard of Oz scenery, and tells of an ordinary single mom who dreams of becoming a singer. Hardly a feminist story, as she navigates between one unloving husband, an abusive lover and eventually bearded Kris Kristofferson, who ends up beating her son and promises not to do it again. 3/10.

[I finally watched it because of this clip of 15-year-old Jody Foster singing Je t'attends depuis la nuit de temps on French television].

🍿

The new well-made HBO documentary The Truth vs Alex Jones. About the collective mental sickness that is Amerika. It's hard to imagine how insane are the crazies over there. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes.

🍿

3 more shorts:

🍿 The Most Beautiful Shots In Movie History, a little mash-up clippy from The "Solomon Society" with an evocative Perfect day cover.

🍿 Joana, a beautiful tribute of a Spanish father to his little daughter. Reminds me of better times and another daughter.

🍿 From hand to mouse, a mediocre 1944 'Looney Tune' short from Chuck Jones, with the same dynamics that the Coyote & Road Runner did much better.

🍿

Ramy Youssef X 3:

🍿 I discovered first-generation Egyptian-American stand-up comedian Ramy Youssef. In his funny 2019 special, Feelings, he comes across as a sweet dude, a sensitive, observant Muslim, on a complicated spiritual quest in New Jersey. Recommended!

🍿 Ramy was his A24 TV-series that expanded on the themes. It had more of a sitcom vibes, reminiscent of 'Master of None', another one that dealt with an unexplored ethnicity, previously marginalized. I only watched the first season, and liked how unapologetic he was in having large part of the dialogue in other languages, Arabic, French, Etc. Episode 7, "Ne Me Quitte Pas", starring his screen-mom Hiam Abbass was a terrific stand-out.

🍿 “Where were you when the floods happened in Pakistan?”

More feelings, his brand new stand up which just dropped is dark and gentle. It opens with some dark truths from his friend Steve who wants to die, and moves right into the situation in Palestine.

(Later: He hosted Saturday Night Live this weekend.)

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here)

[niemernuet]

also pls pls pls drunk (mutually/accidental) kisses fooooor atlas me thinks 🤩?

Only five weeks (on the day actually) too late for your last prompt but here it finally is. I wanted to finish it on Sunday but of course it got away again. 🙄 Thank you so so much, i loved all of your prompts. 🩷😘

The tinted glass covering one side of the gym turns the world outside into an old film. Modern cars and busses, bikes, scooters and pedestrians move through the sepia-toned air, a surprising amount of them in the rhythm of the hectic bass that is just a smidgen too loud to be comfortable. Technically, Atle's rest time between sets has ended but both Lucas and Charlie are still hovering over at the bar, and none of the other patrons look approachable enough to ask them to spot him. So, he waits. Charlie is filling his bottle with water but his face looks as if he was a general listening to bad news from the front. Lucas keeps talking, his face close to Charlie's ear, his hands drawing wide figures in the air. Charlie keeps listening until suddenly, he doesn't. He shuts off the faucet, screws the lid on top of the bottle, mutters something to Lucas in return, and hurries away while shaking the bottle furiously. Atle watches, unsure whether he should go over. Lucas takes the decision off him when he straightens his shoulders, grabs his own bottle from the counter, and hurries back.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

Lucas smiles. "Sure. He's coming right back in a second. Come on, you're not done with your set." He claps his hands together, and hovers them over the rack, ready to grab them should Atle's arms be too weak.

Atle does not lie down yet but stares at the door to the changing room where Charlie has vanished. "He looks angry? What's wrong?"

Lucas drops his arms, and rolls his eyes. "It's nothing, really. We were just discussing where we'd go out tonight and I may have worded my answer to his suggestion a bit…too direct."

Atle laughs. "So, do we have to look for a hotel, or…?"

Lucas snorts. "He'll be back in a minute. But I'm telling you, I'm not setting foot in a location that gets advertised in the leaflets at the tourist information. I need a real club, in the real London."

"You're such a snob." Atle is still laughing while he lays splayed out on the bench, and he takes a few deep breaths. "By the way, the next time we're coming here, we're taking Aleks with us. Some of these bros really need to be taken down a peg."

Lucas puts his hands in position again. He's brushing against Atle's arm, and a shiver runs down his spine.

"That's a plan," Lucas say. "Now get going!"

Charlie is back to his usual cheerful self when they leave the gym and step out into the bright sunlight again. Just around the corner, hordes of tourists shove each other down Baker Street but they set off in the other direction. They pass a small park with an iron fence looping around, and walk past a wild mix of old brownstones with white-framed windows and modern glass buildings that are glistening in the sun.

"And did you come to an agreement?"

Charlie eyes Atle quizzically. "About what?"

"Where we're going tonight."

"There's only one place where we're going tonight," Charlie snorts. "And I do not take criticism from some hicks who live in a yurt above the Arctic Circle."

Lucas grins, and winks at Atle. "You wished London's clubs were half a cool as Oslo's," he says as they turn into a small alley. It is a dead end with two rows of low two-storey houses facing each other. Here, the noise of the city is subdued, held back by the brick walls. Once upon a time the houses used to be stables for horses but nowadays they are posh apartments for people with deep pockets. Charlie fishes a key out of his sports bag.

"Before you think about throwing us out consider that I'm totally on board with whatever you have planned and I think your taste is great," Atle throws in.

"Traitor," Lucas says, and Charlie laughs.

They leave for dinner when the sun is slowly setting, and shining directly into their eyes as they make their way towards the closest station. The tube is full of commuters who do not have summer holidays and tourists who do, yet they still manage to snatch free seats. While the train is new, the tracks are old, and the waggons rattle as they rush across the city. Atle does not flinch when Lucas' hand settles on the nape of his neck, simply turns his head, and smiles at him. Lucas smiles back, and something heavy clenches around his heart.

"What?" he asks.

Lucas shrugs, his smile unchanged. Across the aisle, Charlie pretends to be deeply captivated by something in his phone, though he has the same frown from earlier in the gym. Lucas' fingertips comb through Atle's hair, and caress the skin around the seam of his shirt. It does not tickle in the least; Atle could sit like this forever, even though he knows something is…maybe not wrong, but also not right. Maybe this is why Lucas dragged him along on this trip. This here, the city with all its concrete and metal and noise is very much Lucas' turf. If it had been up to Atle, they could have gone on a hike around a fjord somewhere, and set up their tent under the stars.

The choice of restaurant at the top of the giant dildo feels like an accommodation to Atle and far too tourist-y, though at least Charlie is just as mesmerised with the view of the sprawling city and the river snaking through it. When their meal arrives, Atle automatically shoves his plate towards Lucas so he can arrange it for the photoshoot. They have ordered drinks, and when their glasses are empty, Lucas flags down their waiter for the next round.

"The season's about to start," Atle reminds him, and adds a little laugh so as not to sound too much like a nag.

"Come on, you're only here once," Charlie answers in Lucas' stead.

They eat, and when they are done they walk back to the tube and rush across the city once more. Their next stop is not just geographically on the opposite side of the city. The stench of warm piss hits them like a wave when they step onto the platform, and Atle pushes the turnstile standing between him and the exit with his shoulder. They follow the stream of people along the cracked pavement, the ground caked with litter, and the walls grey with all the graffiti sprayed over each other. Lucas puts his arm around Atle's shoulder when they get to the bouncer. His eyes take in Atle from head to toe, and when he steps aside he makes sure to convey that but for the grace of Lucas is he allowed to step over the threshold of the rundown warehouse. Here they drink more, wedged between a mass of people and buried under a wall of literally indescribable noise. Atle loses track of time, not in the least because he cannot hear where one song ends and another begins. All he can do is hold on to Lucas, and let him guide the way. Eventually they lose Charlie to a handsome blonde, and when they leave for the toilets, Lucas pulls Atle up to the first floor and onto a worn-out couch. Here, the bass and the music is as loud as it was earlier today in the gym, which in Atle's opinion says everything there is to know about that joint. He has no chance to tell this to Lucas though because he climbs into his lap, and kisses him. Atle lets it happen, his hands wandering under Lucas' loose shirt and moving over the hot, sweat-sheened skin. Ever so often Lucas pauses, his face hovering inches away, mustering Atle with his unreadable gaze, before he kisses him again and again. Atle expects that he will finally find out why they have come here, and why Lucas has been drowning the pre-season diet so thoroughly. The next time Lucas stops, he untangles one of his hands from under the shirt, and pushes his long curls back in soft strokes.

"We won't let things change between us?"

The curls wrap around Atle's fingers and snag on his sticky skin but Lucas does not flinch.

"What?"

Lucas' grip around Atle's head tightens, and this time the kiss feels more pressing, more urgent.

"Whatever happens, we'll always have us, right? No matter what."

Atle laughs. He stares up at Lucas, his mouth hanging open, his brain spinning in his head. Lucas knows they will. He knows Atle will always follow his pace, no matter how fast or how slow he wants to go. He knows Atle is nothing without him.

He pulls Lucas close; plants a kiss on his forehead. "What is going on?"

Lucas freezes, his head bent, his eyes averted. When he eventually moves, he moves with his whole body. Atle stays put, lets Lucas grind his hips against his unmoving groin, and his tongue dart in his mouth, and only comes back to life when Lucas' nails dig into his shoulder blade. Lucas is hard under his wide trousers when Atle's hips shoot up, and the too soft padding of the couch dips around them when he spreads his legs further, giving Atle space to reach underneath the waistband. Atle catches the first moan with his mouth, and the next, and the next.

He does not need to know more.

Epilogue:

It occurs to Atle that Sander is probably spending too much time with Henrik when his first reaction is to lash out straight away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?" he yells, and even with his hands balled to fists, and his whole body shaking with anger he still looks like a middle schooler. "We have a race in two days and you come with this now?"

Lucas says something but Atle cannot discern whether it is to Sander or to Timon and Rasmus who are both babbling the same questions at once, or to Adrian who barked a simple "No!" and now glares at him far more menacing than Sander could ever manage, or to Aleks who stands before Lucas with raised palms and talks at him as if he just needs to calm down and think this over.

Whatever anyone says, Atle does not understand one word; the blood rushing in his ears, the pounding in his head drowns out everything. Sander storms off first, not after hurling another barrage of curses at Lucas that carry no edge because his eyes are just a tad too red. He is followed by Timon who tries to stop him, and Atle slinks out behind him, unseen by the rest of the people in the room. Aleks is still talking intently, urging Lucas to do the thing Atle knows would never happen. He ends up on the balcony of their room, in his sweatpants and his shirt, out in the cold night. Everything makes sense now, and when his eyes fall on the packed suitcase on Lucas’ untouched bed, the sadness rushes in. He is still crying when Lucas returns, and they both cry a little more, only an open door between them and yet so much more. There is only one thing Atle thinks about, something so unimportant it does not matter, but all the things that matter are unchangeable anyway.

“You told Charlie before me?”

Lucas shrugs. “I don’t love Charlie,” he rasps. “Made it easier.”

Atle laughs and sobs, pressing his palms into his eyes until red lightings are dancing in front of them. Of course this would be the moment one of them would say the big three words for the first time. If a bit in a roundabout way.

“Please,” Lucas begs.

Atle’s shoulders slump as he drops his arms. He only needs to take two steps to bridge the gap between Lucas and him. The tears still have not stopped but at least he has Lucas to cling to now, his head buried in his neck, and his arms wrapped so tightly around his body that he can barely breathe.

“We’ll always have us,” Lucas whispers.

Atle does not need to know more.

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Skyrim favorites! 2 parts!

Answer one or more of these as either Teldryn or Sydari!

And then ofc give us your favorites, too! 20.   favorite weapon?

23.   favorite faction?

24.   favorite creature?

26.   favorite ability?

Answering as both since they both have their own opinions on this. Throwing in some Morrowind references too...coz reasons.

I'm dropping a fic easter egg in here! :D

20. Favourite Weapon.

Sydari unsheathes a curious dagger from her boot and places it on the table. The metal is unnaturally dark and the weapon itself seems to hum. There's daedric lettering etched into the centre of the blade.

"This little thing has gotten me out of more sticky situations than I can count. The enchantment is a little temperamental but the blade never dulls." She looks over at the Dunmer seated beside her, he raises an eyebrow as he stares apprehensively at the blade. She carefully places the dagger back in its sheath and smiles at him.

"He hates Daedric shit."

Teldryn shakes his head and slumps a little in his seat.

"I don't hate Daedric shit, I just," He scratches the bridge of his nose before taking another sip of the beverage beside him. It elicits a slightly disgusted look, "Miluth forgets that I've had my fair share of interactions with Daedra, all have consequences that I am no longer interested in experiencing." He looks down the hallway and smiles to himself, "Not any more."

"Oh, that's bullshit Tel! Your favourite weapon of all time was that weird crescent sword you took from that Dremora Lord," Sydari jeered, "Tell them that story!"

Teldryn shakes his head, "It's locked away in the armoury for a reason." He makes a sign with his hands that implies "little fingers".

"He stabbed a god with it!"

"Did I?"

(I love the design for Daedric weaponry in TES, something about it is so badass).

23. Favourite faction.

Sydari rests her feet on the table and sighs, "I'm a Nightingale."

Teldryn laughs, "She runs the Thieves Guild!"

Sydari throws a crust of bread at him and laughs in return, "And he thinks building tents in the yard and putting lamps in the window qualifies as a personality trait!"

"That one is a worthy cause and teaching her to build a yurt is a great way to pass the time."

"And attracts the attention of half the town."

"It's a dying art"

Sydari smiles back at him, "I know".

(I play the Thieves Guild questline in Skyrim a lot and Josh is very much an Ashlander projection on my part. He's also a member of Twin Lamps, a faction that has grown on me quite a bit! Yes I did say I'd throw Morrowind into this, can't do anything as instructed lol)

24. Favourite creature.

Sydari smiles, "I have always loved rabbits. They're so cute! I find the netch that float across the island to be fascinating."

"You've never had one of those things puke on you. It's foul." Teldryn takes another drink of the odd beverage beside him and grimaces. He pats the large, olive-green carapace of the nix hound at his feet.

"That's because I've never thrown a whole bottle of Sujamma at one you s'wit!"

"Language!" Teldryn tuts, a smile plastered across his thin features, "I heard her say fetcher the other day! Where did she pick that up?"

"She probably picked it up from you at the market last week! You called Fethis one because you think that he overcharged you for that glass tube you insisted on importing from the mainland."

"That's because Fethis is a dick!" Teldryn sighed and leaned back in his chair, "He's a dick Sydari."

"Language Sero, language."

Teldryn shakes his head, "I like big dogs."

"He likes cats."

"Shhhhhh!"

(I can't choose animals, I like most of them tbh so the above is a selection. I personally love the calls of silt striders and I think netch are cute.)

26. Favourite ability.

Both elves look at each other.

"Invisibility"

(I play stealth characters as a general rule, it's fun!)

[mindfulcuppa]

Traversing over sand, water, stone. A glassy ocean by terracotta kitchens and cut snakes.

₃ Lisbon >Sintra >Almageira

Lisboa

Before long, I returned to Lisboa where I rested in a hostel near Ristrello. There were bunk beds three stories high, with headroom enough to lay, but not enough to do a partial crunch.

This time I wandered around the city somewhat purposeless, finding a place to do laundry, a place to have coffee, and some castles to draw. There was a tip toe nature toward discovery, and I felt drawn into the touristic snow globe experience. To break from this, I went to the extreme of tourist density, to Sintra and the Palace of Peña.

As you would consider what it would be like to be in a gold plated children's book, the palace held a certain attention to detail that was quite unnecessary. And with the deluge of people that step through with heads in lenses, the spirit of the Palace does get lost in the noise. There was a case for aesthetics, though. The construction of Poseidon into an arch doorway was my favourite, along with the sheer beauty of balanced architecture in the hallways. Imagining what regal life would take place at the palace left a specific feeling of detest, dust, and nostalgia.

Nearby, the gardens were majestic; sweeping swans and ducks, each with their own castle-like nests. The peaceful shelter from shimmering leaves of old trees above. I enjoyed spending some moments here breathing, drawing, and sitting (all at the same time!).

It was hot, and I was now overloaded with noise. The town of Sintra had many quirks, hills, bends, and amusements that helped distract from the consuming surroundings. Along my way, I had some conversation with a local azulejo artist (painting tiles) about process, and then found a nice place to drink a beer. I had passed through the Peña gift shop and pocketed a postcard (to remedy the guilt of the 14€ entry), so I sat at the bar to write to my grandparents, who's friends had advised this trip. Just as my legs began to desire a seat, I boarded the train back to Lisbon.

Once I got back to the capital again, I had a look for some enjoyable ways to spend an evening outside of the typical. I discovered a dance history class at TBA, where I would learn some new breakdance, vogue, footwork techniques and built up a sweat. Later I realised that my friend Paul was in fact living in Lisbon, so we arranged to meet.

He taught me some slang, and we met also with his friends Basille and Ria. They were lovely. We must have looked cool because a stranger came to us for a lighter and then decided to stay a while too. It was great to talk with them, as I felt like I hadn't had a decent exchange of conversation in days. Hearing of Paul's lifestyle of surfing, ceramics, and teaching brought joy to me. As well as an essence of opportunity for something similar one day.

The next day I would visit Basille's workshop/studio on my way to the bus. His professionalism in sign writing, home made screen station, and attention to detail in the fine design of his space was inspiring. I thanked him for the gifted pin for my travels up the coast.

Almageira

Arriving into Peniche on a hot summers day was memorable for its stench of sardines. Apparently it’s the sardine capital of the world (not Sardinia), but I’m still a little sceptical… A man named Paul picked me up, he was British but as things became clear, he had a chasm of houses in the area and seemed to be building a mini empire.

I was there to help him with his project to turn a couple of acres, ‘the land’ as it was named, into a place to live and breathe for him and his partner. Featuring a yurt, a double decker bus, and a halfpipe, the land was fringed on something that I’d like to contribute towards, but ultimately, I was there to surf and swim. The water at Almegeira was so crisp and glassy, it like freshly washed windows. Baleal beach was also a nice place to paddle, and did get twice overhead one day 😳

Malcolm, JB, Luiz, and Brodan all joined in some assistance over the 2 weeks; where we shovelled concrete, built a deck, and installed a kitchen or two [we built one for outside]. They are all wonderful. I especially enjoyed hearing Luiz talk about rake, and Malcolm talk about his passion for high lining. Sharing insights is what we did lots of. As well as heading out to a couple of bars (Rickle, Boske, Washed Up), and hanging at the pipe dream pool with the dogs.

A highlight was having Emma and Alex come through on their road trip and fancy van. We had a boisterous bolder stroll and snacks that were exactly the sweet spot. We watched a perfectly orange sun set over some skim-boarders, as would be found on an advert for corona beer. I was happy to see them.

My step count began to take a high trend upwards around this time which i've grown into, but initially tired of the dripping sweats...

I write this now from London, 5 weeks after the fact. My image library backup is needing a moment to update...

[wanderer-on-the-steppe]

A Shaman's Song

(by a scribe that's not a shaman)

Today for the first time I cursed a human being. There were no drums involved, no smoke of juniper and I was silent in front of my computer screen. But still I cursed him in my heart and I can’t take it back nor can I want to. There were no chants, no frippery for this is not Siberia I have four walls around my sadness not a yurt. There was: the knowledge that if you dropped dead before tomorrow I’d be glad. May the sky scream above you and beneath it every stone and grass – You lie! How you’d laugh at all my words if only… you know, who does laugh at dust? So don’t.      Мать земля will get a hundred songs from me but you get only one. You read out those words on my computer screen: “This country doesn’t exist, it never has, and never will.” It is not this you said exactly yet it is. But the Steppe, she knows her children ever has and ever will and you can turn her into a graveyard but not into a liar. May the stars fall upon you and may the sun not find you in this world tomorrow. The ancient feared a curse like plague. It didn’t stop their wars but at least you knew they paid their dead in fear. But you’re not superstitious…       I couldn’t scare a rat!!! No one’s taught me how to do such things though someone should have.

The worst thing in the world is not to kill but to pretend that what you kill does not exist. I’m short of words my song’s confused I don’t feel sorry for you don’t deserve a better one. This one first curse: I wanted to take it to my grave never to be aimed at anyone.

Now take it to yours. I pity the earth who has to shelter you both.

***

Pretty much exactly one year old poetry. It's certainly not the best thing I've ever written stylistically, but it's still true - so I'm leaving it just as it is. At least, I don't have to translate it. I was so frantically switching between different languages while following the news, that somehow this got written down in English in the first place.

[frostedlemonwriter]

Untitled Fantasy One Shot

I finally finished that story I started some days ago. Here it is in its entirety. Can also find it on my substack here

The sun was an uncaring, relentless force. Mixed with too much sand and wind, enough to send a man flying when it desired, the Tehari desert was not the place for any living creature. Though, there were plenty, mostly large black birds that circled above. A woman was lashed and nailed to a death tree, a large crossed set of wooden beams that held her in place. Her brown hair waved in the wind; it beat against her sun-kissed skin. Beads of sweat glistened in the unforgiving sun. Her nudity presented to any that would find her here, but that was a long shot. She knew her life would end sooner rather than later. There was a certain peace in such knowledge. A wooden sign hung from a hempen rope tied around her neck, down to cover the bottom of her stomach that decreed the made-up crimes the woman didn’t commit. She couldn’t even remember what they were supposed to be.

One of the large black birds with a naked neck and head landed upon the cross arm. Its beady little black eyes stared deep into her soul, just enough energy for her to glance at the feathered demon. A harbinger of death, of Isolde, the dual-faced goddess of death and fertility, to some vultures were her messengers. She prayed for a quick death, but the bird didn’t wish to peck her eyes out or rip open her stomach. The elements will take her soon. The bird had more patience than most.

Though her mind played tricks on her, she knew the truth with her own eyes. There on the horizon was a group of figures. With her vision going dark, the end was coming, and it wouldn’t be stopped. Each time her eyes opened, the group got closer and closer. Dark-skinned, they spoke in a lilting language, their ears long and pointed. She didn’t know their intentions. Her vision went black again before they reopened to feel the hot sand under her body.

“Help,” Was all she could squawk out.

Her vision went black again, and she didn’t return to the woman for what seemed like eons, but it also seemed like no time had passed. The mind is the strongest magic one could find. A humming from another woman came to her ears before her eyes opened to the inside of a yurt—several dried herbs strung above her head whose scent was masked by burning incense set beside her. 

A soft pallet comprised of furs and hides cushioned her body, which was covered by a fur blanket. She could move and sit up, but before she could go further, a crone-like hand grabbed her shoulder with an unexpected softness.

“You’re alive, dead woman,” The wizened woman said. Her skin was etched with the lines of seasons upon seasons that had past the woman by—white hair in elaborate braids with multi-colored beads strewn throughout. Long, pointed ears with many rings pierced throughout. “You’re in the hands of the Ardenai. You will live, dead woman.”

“Water,” The woman croaked. “Please.”

The elf removed a water skin from the frayed leather belt to offer to the human woman. Of which was gladly taken. She drank and drank from the skin until the matron stopped her with an admonishment of moderation. The human knew this well but felt her thirst desired more, yet she handed back the water skin.

“The hunters wished your death. They do not trust humans. Especially exiles doomed to death,” The matron’s voice was low and heavy with each word spoken. As if she carried the burden of time with her. “Robbery, buggery, and murder? Did you commit these crimes? Do not lie to me. I will know.”

The human woman looked deep into the matron’s deep honey-brown eyes for a moment. Perhaps she considered her words as there was a great chance she would end up alone in the desert.

“I was a thief, and I have killed ‘fore. But only those who attacked me first. Self-defense isn’t murder.” The human fully sat up. “Buggery? Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve…never…”

“It’s fine, young’un. I believe ya. ‘Sides, being light of foot, quick of hand, and full of wit was never a bad thing. Rest up. We will speak ‘gain very soon, and ya can repay us for the medicinal herbs, water, and food, yes?” The matron stood up but didn’t leave yet. “What is yer name, girl?”

“Tegan of Ryre.”

“I’m Grand Matron Nysarial. Get some rest. Ya will live.” She let out a breath Tegan didn’t know the older woman held. Then turned and left the yurt, and a hot blast of air followed in her wake.

Tegan sighed as she scanned the yurt for anything that could be used as makeshift coverings. That’s when she noticed a pair of brocade pants with a matching tunic. No foot coverings, but Tegan wasn’t picky in this regard. She was tired of being tired and laying here like an invalid. 

The sun hung just above the horizon. Which casted its long tendrils across the land which formed into fingers of shadows. Several yurts formed a semi-circle with a few camels and horses within a sturdy wooden pen along with a rather sizable lean-to. A smelter made of sandbricks stood beside a hot forge and a large muscular man who pounded hammer upon red-yellow metal. A large yurt capped the small village-like camp, and it was undoubtedly where the leader resided. Every pair of eyes were upon her. Self-consciousness bloomed within the forefront of her mind. With a deep breath, Tegan walked up to the large yurt.

Two young men clad in leather wrappings and covered in burnt umber-colored body paint. They crossed their spears in an effort to stop her. One barked at Tegan that she wasn’t allowed within the presence of Princess Itaynia. Yet, before they could push her away a tiny voice came from within. “Is that our visitor? Let ‘er in, please.”

The guards moved out of Tegan’s way without protest. Their eyes focused ahead, as if Tegan suddenly became invisible to the pair. Lingering in the air was a spicy aroma of a particular incense that she had never smelled before. Almost an intoxicating smell for Tegan. Carpets made of the finest materials along with green silk curtains trimmed in a brocade of gold. Sashes held them open, silk with matching gold brocade as well. An ebony screen blocked off what appeared to be a bathing and sleeping area off to the side. A dark throne sat within in middle of the giant yurt with a young teenage woman perched upon it. Her eyes matched the curtains with full lips painted with a purple dye. Her nose was like the classic nobles of old–aquiline that flared just a bit. Would be off-putting, Tegan thought, if it wasn’t for its connection to nobility and royalty. If you didn’t have proof of your lineage, this would be it. The woman’s ears were as long and pointed as everyone else in the camp. No doubt a sign of the Ardenai, as she had seem them on no other people but their own. Beside her stood the Grand Matron, dignified in her old age.

“So, ya must be Tegan, eh?” Princess Itaynia already knew the answer to her question. “My scouts found ya nailed to a death tree. Naked as the day you were born. Isolde’s own circling above waitin’ for their feast of which we denied. My spiritual guide here kept ya on the path of living. For that you owe us a boon.”

“One I intend to repay fully, m’lady,” Tegan replied.

“I had no doubt,” the princess said. “I hear you are quite light on your feet, hmm?”

Tegan nodded.

“That is very good, then. I’ll have a task for you in the morning. As for tonight, you may stay in the tent where you came to. Food shall be provided shortly along with some water. I caution you, human. Do not leave your tent except to relieve yourself. I have given orders for my kin and kind to not harm a hair upon you, but they can be overzealous with their hatred ‘gainst humans.”

“Am I gonna be gutted as I sleep?” Tegan inquired, her voice a little higher than anticipated.

Itaynia chuckled, which caused the silk fabric to rustle. “Not if they know what is good for them. Now I ask you to return to your shelter. In the morning, we shall speak again about the task at hand.”

Tegan gave a slight bow, was that proper? Before she turned on her heels and walked back to the tent that would be her home for the evening. It was hard to ignore the stares, but what was she to do? This was just as weird to her as it was for them. Even if she was grateful to them for saving her life.

A small basket woven from reeds sat on the pallet Tegan woke up on. Laden with a load of flatbread, a small container of dark amber honey, and date fruit of various sizes. Tegan’s stomach growled in protest; that was all she needed to dig into the food. Each bite was just as delicious as the other. The bread’s healthy multigrain, offset by the spiced honey with the concentrated sweetness of the dates, made for the best meal she had had in some time. Better than the street junk she was used to. Her stomach was full, and her body was still weaker than expected, so a restful sleep came over her.

Before dawn had fully come, there was a voice, a melodic elvish voice. “Wake up, human,” a woman called out.

Tegan’s eyes opened to spot a young elven woman, skin as dark as her kin with long braided hair pulled back behind her pointed ears. Their eyes were as green as emeralds. A ruby red symbol was tattooed on the right side of her face. She was clad in rigid leather armor reinforced by metal bands, with an iron breastplate.

“Your repayment begins,” the woman moved from the opening of the yurt.

There was no time for contemplation. Tegan got up and stepped out into the cold morning air. The desert was a land of two extremes. It would burn you during the day and freeze you at night. The woman looked muscular, impressive to Tegan once she could fully see her. Both beautiful and deadly, one of the feared Hunters–scouts and warriors of the Ardenai.

“We need a particular item retrieved from a temple east of here. A temple where our normal scouts and hunters wouldn’t touch,” the woman’s voice was husky, lower than most despite still having that melodic tone all elves seemed to have. “I am to go with you.”

“What’s the item?” Tegan asked.

“An idol for one of our gods. I will know it when I see it.”

With a cocked eyebrow, Tegan looked at the elf. “Then why am I going? Is it dangerous?”

“Very much so, yes.”

The two women stood there for a moment, but the elf broke the silence, “I’m Ryvalia.”

“Tegan, a pleasure.” They grasped forearms and smiled at one another. “Do I get somethin’ to protect myself with?”

“Yes, and supplies,” Ryvalia handed over a satchel weighed down with food, skins of water, a torch hung off the side along with a dagger covered in a protective sheath that dangled beside the torch.

Tegan took the satchel and wrapped it around her torso.

“Alright. Lead the way.”

Ryvalia nodded. “Don’t you want to know more?”

“I want to know everythin’, but I figured you’d share with me as we walked. No time to waste, aye?” Tegan shifted her weight, a contemplative expression purposefully directed to Ryvalia. “The only thing I want to know is if this will make me even with the tribe?”

“Not for me to say. I just know what I must do. Let’s go so we can be back as quickly as possible.”

[weatheredpileoftomes]

there’s no place like home

Majha & Lyse, mid-Stormblood, ~1000 words. Tucked into the end of the quest “The Heart of Nations”…somewhere. Major spoilers for the very end of Heavensward patches, but only character and setting spoilers for Stormblood itself.

It seems more and more like everyone around Majha knows something she doesn’t.

“What you said earlier,” Majha says to Lyse. She’s been thinking about it all afternoon and into the evening. “About nations.”

Lyse scrunches up her face. “Yeah, it probably didn’t sound very good, did it. I don’t really know what I’m doing, and I like children but I don’t… Yda actually knew how to deal with them, but I don’t.”

“No, it’s—you were fine, you were good.” Majha looks around a little guiltily. Chaanqa is having some kind of lively discussion with the cooks; Sonjha is surrounded by children—better him than her—; Ta’rhiki is chattering fifteen to the dozen with Cirina by the entrance to the largest yurt. Hien and Gosetsu are somewhere, but they aren’t her problem.

“Then what’s the problem?” Lyse leans forward and props her chin on her hands.

Majha looks skyward for inspiration. There is a lot of sky, but no answers there, or even the right questions. The sun is mostly set, with a few stars beginning to fade through the dull blue at its zenith. “Do you feel that way? About Ala Mhigo?”

Lyse hesitates, then nods. “I mean, I don’t… I wasn’t… I know some people think I shouldn’t, since I didn’t even really grow up there. But Yda did, and she told me about it, and…”

“It’s okay,” Majha says quickly. “It’s not—that isn’t—I just…I don’t know what that feels like.”

“Well, you’re not from Ala Mhigo,” Lyse says easily. It sounds almost like a Yda thing to say, and if she’d still been pretending to be Yda it might have barely stung.

From Lyse it cuts deeper.

“I know,” Majha says. “X’rhun is, his whole branch of X Tribe is, but he knows and I know that I’m not. It’s just…he liked finding family here anyway, and I liked being family.”

Lyse waits quietly, and now Majha is grateful she isn’t still pretending to be Yda.

“I grew up not far from East End,” Majha says, staring into the fire. You can hardly tell it’s made from dung, at this point. “We weren’t really in the Wood Wailers’ area. No Garleans either, but the closest major settlement to us was probably Castrum Oriens. When I got to Gridania to start learning conjury they asked where I was from.”

Lyse frowns. “But you…you weren’t from Gridania, were you? You were new, so of course they’d want to…to get to know you.”

Majha twists a bit of the fringe on her gown back and forth, rolling the threads between her fingers. “I guess. I mean, I wasn’t. They taught me conjury and I’m grateful, but I don’t think the Elementals are an excuse for some of the things they’ve done.”

“Sure,” Lyse says. “They don’t like…” She frowns again, deeper. “Well, they never really minded me, but I was just one person. So much of the Resistance had to stay in Ul’dah, where there wasn’t really enough food or water, because they didn’t want a whole bunch of Ala Mhigan refugees in the Twelveswood.”

“That’s not my nation,” Majha says. When she looks up this time her eyes, dazzled by the firelight, can’t see anything other than blackness above. “What you talked about, earlier. I don’t respect its traditions, and I’m not part of it anyway. I don’t…share it with people.”

She knows the same constellations are above, hidden in the black sky, as they are back in Eorzea. She’s seen them in the Ruby Sea and Yanxia the same as she’s seen them over the Black Shroud and Gyr Abania, the same as she’s seen them over Thanalan, La Noscea, Coerthas and Dravania. They hang some higher and some lower, but still the same stars, the same moon, the same light.

“You fight for Ala Mhigo,” she says. “Papalymo did, too, for Yda and for you. Hien fights for Doma, and I think Gosetsu does too, lord or not. Ta’rhiki didn’t have a place to belong to, so he made one of his own, and Chaanqa and Sonjha found it somewhere to belong.”

He’s invited her to join Ta Tribe as well, more than once, but she doesn’t know if she’d belong any better there, and she can’t bear the thought that she might not. Chaanqa and Sonjha are his cousins; he’s known them both for most of his life. They have a shared history, and she isn’t part of it.

Nations again.

“Nobody from Ala Mhigo ever thought I was from there,” Majha says, quiet in the deepening night. “Not you, not Raubahn, not Gundobald or anyone else in Little Ala Mhigo, not Meffrid and his followers at Quarrymill, not X’rhun. But I kind of…I don’t know. I hoped, I guess you might say.”

“Hoped what?” Lyse asks. Her voice is almost as soft as Majha’s.

“I’m not Gridanian,” Majha says. “I lived there for a while and it was always…wrong. How close to sit at taverns, what to wear, how to season food, how you treat your guests, whether you help people who need you. And the other thing I might have been was Ala Mhigan, but Gyr Abania is just…a place.”

Lyse looks like she wants to protest, but doesn’t say anything.

That’s not fair, maybe. “It’s a beautiful place, but it doesn’t mean anything in particular to me,” Majha tries again. “It’s not mine. I look at the mountains and I like their shapes and their aether, but I don’t carry them with me. In Rhalgr’s Reach”—she winces, thinking of the loss there, and the anger simmering in her flares a little brighter—“I admired the statue of Rhalgr, and I see the worship that people give, but that isn’t my preferred god, or my tradition. X’rhun has told me about the revolution, and I respect the struggles the Ala Mhigans went through then, but that’s not my history. I don’t…none of it is mine.”

“I’m sorry.” Lyse reaches out tentatively, and when Majha doesn’t draw back she rests her hand on Majha’s knee. It’s warm even through the cloth of Majha’s trousers, comforting as the night air cools around them. “I hope you find somewhere.”

Majha doesn’t know if there is anywhere, but Lyse’s hope makes that not-knowing a little easier.

[morsrattus]

What the Khan Told Me: Life From the Kargzanti Perspective

Who are you?

I am Ongzan Two Spears, head of the Setseg family and khan of the Blue Flash Tribe. I lead our tribe, deciding when we fight, where we live, and what we do. You will call me Ongzan Khan or Light Father.

I took the name Ongzan in my adulthood rites. It means 'Stone Body' in the Old Tongue. I am called Two Spears because of these two spears, which I earned from my heroquesting in the Gods Realm. They never miss when I throw them. My family, the Setseg, takes its name from the woman who founded us. She was a daughter of Hyalor, and she discovered the uses of the Purple Tongue flower, which is our family's symbol now. You should chew it when your jaw aches, and it will soothe the pain until you can find a healer. Our family joined the Blue Flash Tribe four generations ago, following the guidance of our ancestors to meet our spiritual kin. You will see that before that, our part of the Story Yurt had us walking with a different people. That tribe no longer exists. The trolls ate them.

Ongzan Khan, who are we?

We are the Blue Flash Tribe. We honor Kargzant the Khan, and he has blessed us with wealth and power. We descend from five heroes - Setseg, daughter of Hyalor, Chola, the grandson of Lozarl, Kargokh, the son of OdChigin, Altan, the niece of Hurfor, and Ongbat, the grandson of Kargzant. Together, we have come together to make something stronger than any of us alone. Our power has earned us strong herds and great respect.

Light Father, what makes us great?

Our courage, above all else. We are leaders, first into the fore in battle and always ready to take part in the hero contests. When famine threatens, we stand ready to take charge. When the trolls come, we help to drive them away. When it is raiding season, we do not hesitate. A great khan is like Kargzant - he rises to the challenges that others fear, and he is generous with his power and wealth. A great tribe is one that follows a great khan. I strive always to be great.

Light Father, where do we live?

We make our camp in the Kargano Bor. Each season we travel to a new area, so that we do not overgraze. The Kargano Bor is warmer than other regions of Pent, and it is our power that allows us to stay here, where the winters are weaker and the mighty Sirdaryo feeds the grass. Our camp is now on the river's bank, but come Fire Season we will head eastwards, towards Hot Lake. The Fire Season is a good season to raid the Kralori.

Ongzan Khan, how do we live?

The first thing a tribe needs is survival. We live by ensuring we can do this. The herds must be fed, or we will all starve. Therefore, we live by knowing the land and the best places to feed our herds. But mere survival is not enough. A tribe must thrive, and to thrive we need wealth. That is the purpose of a khan - to ensure that the tribe thrives. Therefore, we seek to grow the herds, for herds are wealth. And we seek wealth and glory by raiding our enemies. And last, we live by giving away wealth. It is not enough to hold it, for a tribe thrives by using wealth. Merely sitting on it like a squirrel who buries his food earns you only a reputation for being a miser. Wealth allows you to support others. When you support another tribe and help them survive when they cannot, this earns you respect. And respect? That is what you hoard, what ensures your tribe will always thrive, for while wealth is spent and used, respect remains with you and ensures others will listen.

Ongzan Khan, what is important in my life?

What is important in your life is your family and your tribe. We become strong through their support, and so we support them in turn. Without kin, we are as nothing. This is one of the truths taught to us by Hyalor and Gamari - no person is complete alone. It is not just your horse, though it is that. But we also understand, your kin complete you and you complete them. The wealth of your family reflects glory upon you, and your glory reflects upon them.

Light Father, who rules us?

I do. I am your khan, and my orders are final in regards to the tribe. The Law of Yu-Kargzant rules me, and i must act in accordance with it. The Law stands over us all. But in all things regarding the tribe? I am the final word, and if I must make a decision for all of us, you obey it.

Light Father, what makes a man great?

Respect is what makes a man great. Others respect you for three things: your strength in battle, your generous wealth, and your heroic nature. You must be strong enough that you can withstand any challenge, and can earn the rank you deserve. Strength will also earn you glory in battle, for a man is measured by the foes and rivals he has defeated. You must be wealthy, enough that when others are in need, you can give to them. Possessing wealth will earn you respect, for it lets you dress well and show your prestige, but giving wealth to others earns even more. Heroic nature is the willingness to solve problems. If you win the hero contests when danger threatens many tribes, if you are willing to risk yourself to solve problems for all - these are what show you are a hero. These are the three cords that become the stout rope of respect.

Ongzan Khan, what is evil?

Starvation is evil. It is the evil that is the root of all others, for it exterminates. When there is no food, we die. Our swords avail us nothing, if we cannot feed ourselves. This is why everyone respects the generous - they provide for others and defeat the evil of hunger. It is why everyone hates the trolls, who devour and consume far more than they need and leave all others to starve. It is why we hate the winter, for the demons of ice know what will kill us faster than anything - the starvation that comes when herds fail.

Ongzan Khan, what is my lot in life?

Your lot in life is simple, child. You must excel. Whatever you set yourself to be, never be satisfied with being only acceptable at it. The merely acceptable earns no respect, and without respect, your name will be forgotten. If you are to be a warrior, become the best warrior you can. If you are a leader, aim to become khan after me. If you are a hunter, take the finest prey. Pursue excellence, and even if you are not going to follow my path, you will be glorious.

Light Fatherr, what is the difference between men and women?

Men are more warlike, for our passions rule us. We are driven by rage and by love and by sorrow more than women are. This is, I think, why men more often seek to be khans. We do not have the calmness in us to hold back our ambition, even if our skills are lacking. Women are more rational and thoughtful, better planners. This is why many women excel in the raising of herds and wealth, and why a wife is always the finest advisor. But women are also vindictive and crueler than men, for a woman's anger is slower burning. Cloud people, who are neither men nor women, are flighty and always changing how they feel. They are clever and handle new things well, though, and they find it easier to forgive. Sometimes that is more useful than a grudge or a rivalry. Remember, though, that heroes and khans are special people, who pursue ambition and excellence. You cannot assume they will act as most people do, so do not assume these will always be so.

Light Fatherr, how do we deal with others?

We deal with others based on how we consider them. Those who are weaker than us, we either offer help to show we are great, or if they spurn us, we may raid them. It is wrong to escalate to full warfare against the weak, however. Always be willing to show mercy, for mercy is a sign of greatness, like generosity. It shows you are stronger.

Those who are our equals, we compete with. We must prove ourselves greater, and the ways to do that are many. Showing we have more wealth, for example. Helping them when they are in need. Defeating them in contests. Raiding them to show our martial strength. Our equals are both rivals and those we seek to impress, most of the time. If they are hateful, however, they are enemies. Enemies must be cowed with violence. If this does not work, it may even require full war, to break their spirit. This is regrettable - warfare is costly, most of the time. Still, your enemies should at least be your equals. No one is impressed at crushing those weaker than you.

For those who are stronger than us, we seek to catch up. Learn more about them. Find their strengths and their weaknesses. Strive to be better. Target the areas where such a group is weak and you are strong. If they are misers, be generous. If they are weak at wrestling, show them up in wrestling. Accept their generosity when you need it, but always strive not to need it. If they insult you, if they deny you, raid them. Find the weaknesses in their defenses and exploit them. And if they continue to disrespect you, prepare yourself for prolonged conflict. A war you will lose is bad to fight, but if you can win against a stronger enemy, you will earn great respect. Even if not warfare…it is good to be rivals with someone stronger than you, to target them over others. A man's strength is often measured by his enemies.

Ongzan Khan, who are our enemies?

First we should divide this into the two types of enemy - good enemies and bad enemies. A good enemy has wealth to take, chances for glory, that kind of thing. A bad enemy has nothing worth taking and must be fought because there is no other choice. It is better to have good enemies than bad enemies.

It should not surprise you that the most enduring of our foes are bad enemies. The trolls, who eat everything and leave nothing behind, are usually bad enemies. You should avoid the northern lands where they are more common. To defeat them earns glory, yes, but not wealth. The demons of winter are bad enemies. They slaughter and freeze, but they do not have treasures or wealth. Again, stay in the richer lands to the south, where they are less active. Fight them when you must, help others against them, but it is foolish to place yourself in their path. Chaos and the undead are also bad enemies. They must be purged wherever we find them, for they taint land and destroy, but there is no reward for it save safety. Bad enemies should be defeated swiftly and mercilessly, and they should not be sought out.

Good enemies are those which have wealth and glory to earn. When you face a good enemy, be merciful. Allow them to flee, spare their lives, unless they have earned your hatred for some other reason. Other tribes that must be your enemies are good enemies - they have herds you can take, wealth you can claim, and understand the laws of war. Foreigners are usually good enemies as well. My favorites are the Kralori, who are rich and numerous. Praxians…are disgusting, but can be good enemies. Their herds are rich, if strange. The Lunars of the west are good enemies. The Gord-un can be good enemies, as can the Hsa tigers and other beast people, but they can be bad enemies, as well.

Ongzan Khan, who are my gods?

While the world was made by Yu-Kargzant and the laws set down by him, you should not worry yourself overmuch about him. Leave him to the priests of the Pure Horse, for he left the world to Kargzant to rule. Kargzant is the god of khans and the Khan of the First Herd, and should you seek to lead, that is the path you will follow. If you seek to rule the herds, there is his mother, Galana, rules over our horses, and his wife, Oria, over the plants which our herds eat. Eyritha is mother to the herd beasts which we eat. Dostal protects the herds and hunts the prey. If you want a more glorious hunt, seek Tholm, who is the lord of the falcon. If you want the path of a warrior, West King Wind is the lord of rivalry, a war god who is ambitious but lacks the judgment to truly rule. Pole Star is the master of war and strategy, a great aide to any warrior. North War Wind and South Rage Wind are both useful in their way, but you must be cautious of the cold blade of death wielded by the North and the raging fury of the Chaos-Killer that animates the South. Sirdaryo is another good warrior in this region, and a great aid in raiding the Kralori. If you would seek more peaceful pursuits, the path of the merchant lies with Issaries, and the path of the judge with Hurfor. Lozarl and his sons are the masters of craft. We have other gods, as well - but these are the paths I would recommend to you.

[cervidaedalus]

I did finish the townscape design, but I'm struggling with slots so I didn't really get to build the "outdoor" areas or add more foliage and had to delete the train (but left the tracks ofc). I'm not too worried about stuff like that in these designs. Between that, the removal/change of fixtures, and dual dye I know I'll be able to fully polish all of these designs in the coming patches. So thus far it's a winter daytime townscape in an Empy Large that will be applied to Mateus, like one of those old crammed together mismatched historic cities out here on the east coast. with piles of melting snow. Yard will take sometime as Squeenix likes to make nearly all the winter items (even non-denominational) cash shop ugh. I plan to use the private chambers to create the interiors of the "inaccessible" buildings, like the toy store, clothing store, and probably the park until I can apply it to the main house. I'll probably do a train build in one of them too. A Goblet Large and Small due that will be applied to Goblin (the "island" cliffside plots) once my partner recovers from the rona. The Large is a traditional Middle Eastern style house complete with courtyard, winter seating nook, and a dining room with a long table and Eid lanterns. The small is a matching Hammam bath house, though I wish I could build it in a medium instead lol. A LB Medium I'm trying to acquire on Balmung, that utilizes all three floors for a treehouse design. It's supposed to be based off the 1.0 Shroud, but I wasn't able to make the ground floor forest a maze like I wanted- again that should hopefully be fixed when we get more slots. Basement is a cave, top floor is the treehouse itself, with an elevator glitch into the void to match the treetop seating on the Country house skin. This one is rainy spring sunrise themed. After years of tossing the idea around, the Ingram's house will be built into a Bryn Mist Medium once I can transfer onto the server. It's got a summer midnight theme, with cityscape windows and a balcony area. I will use the private chambers to make Avis' inaccessible goth room, Talon's workshop, and the basement. Sparrow's will likely be the roof above her bedroom I wanted to make in the void, but will have to wait until more furnishing slots. I also finished/adjusted the <SATI> Himalayan hot springs cabin build that already exists on Balmung in a Shiro Small. Also made a Ruby Sea underwater ger (yurt) for Chi's private chambers somewhere on Coeurl. That one was fun. This Hanok Shiro Large build will probably be the last one for a bit, and I hope they drop new wards because I'm getting no bites on Coe Shiro Large or Bal LB Meds for sale.