#char: Brum

[doli-nemae]

my babies from Forgotten Realms games hehe

Triss - half-elf mage\rogue, Baldur's Gate 1 & 2

Katria - human druid lycanthrope, Baldur's Gate 3

Rose - high elf sorcerer, Baldur's Gate 3

Rey - half-orc Selune priest, Baldur's Gate 3

Hildegard - half-orc rogue noble, Baldur's Gate 3

Sam - half-orc paladin of devotion, Neverwinter Nights 2 (Original Campaign)

Bork - half-orc sorcerer, Neverwinter Nights 1 (Original Campaign)

Brum - dwarf duergar fighter, Baldur's Gate 3

Jevan - elf drow paladin, Neverwinter Nights 1 (Original Campaign)

And also their alignment chart!

[stromuprisahat]

Has it ever occurred to you that maybe … you weren’t meant to exist?

I had a few days off, so let's get this over with... it won't get easier.

Six of Crows- Chapter 19

Y'no, if you have an urge to prevent people from seeing something, there might be a thing or two wrong with whatever it is they're not supposed to look at.

The amount of hatred needed to dig three holes in frozen ground, deep enough to secure higher than human-sized stakes (Don't forget enough space for a pile of firewood.)!

Fjerda is supposed to be a cold country, good firewood should be pretty valuable then, right? And still they're willing to waste enough of it to roast inedible humans?!

The pyres have been illegal since- I'm sure those three charred people would be happy to hear that.

Nina asks some pretty good questions. Shame she'll soon forget them.

Just read this several times and keep thinking about how this is a human being, not "creature" as Matthias calls it.

Considering some of the author's believes, one can't help but ask how many of these opinions are only a part of the characters' descriptions, and how many are expressing her own. ... It was not Baghra. I don't know what it was. ...

~I~'ve never... So we can simply ignore that everyone else does/would like to.

A fair trial... that's what? They're allowed to talk? (Even though nobody cares to listen.) As Nina counters- why has a Grisha never been found innocent?! And more importantly- why will Nina simply forget she used to care about this?! Why won't she do anything to stop it, when in the heart of that country, some of the worst perpetrators of such horrors at her mercy?!

One of the details that make Matthias' change believable (although a bit too fast) are the seeds of doubt. Why else feel ashamed when proclaiming something he deeply believes in?

And yeah- another portion of the typical rhetoric of hateful ideologies. It's us and them. They're less and worse, corrupted and inferior. They don't feel like we do, they're unnatural, inhuman, not meant to exist.

Fjerdans are not that different from ordinary Ravkans, who are willing to worship Saints, but deny they're Grisha even a few years after their deaths.

Don't mock... That's some pretty realistic shit too. This sort of bigots will always put inconsiderate words on the same level as bashing your head in.

This is Nina lashing out, hurling the worst things she can come up with at Matthias. It's sad how much of it would be well-deserved, and how little is even remotely realistic.

Nina's hoping for a Nuremberg trials of her world. Unfortunately for her there's no common law, no widely agreed upon set of morals, no base for it, so how come she's even asking for it?

Nina haven't sounded like a child as much as now yet. She paints a picture of strong, well-lead country, capable of more than a pathetic parody on self-defense. And her dream of the Second Army's beyond laughable.

I know some people like to claim the Darkling's, therefore Second Army's tactics is often sowing fear in the masses, but Matthias' story doesn't make much sense with this little information, unless Ravka and Fjerda were in that "fun" part of conflict, when they simply destroy a village or two, then pretend they know nothing about it.

Fjerdans already fear Grisha- there's no need for atrocities to provoke it. Why would a special unit of enemy army target some random village of no particular importance? How come Matthias knows for sure it were Second Army Inferni? And how is he alive and well?

Drüskelle leader's pet student lost whole family in brutal attack of well-trained Grisha?! Ain't Brum just SO lucky?!

In context of the author's opinions (link above), this reads pretty much like lecturing the reader on reality of Grisha persecution. They kill people too, and they are soldiers- look!

[lvgvs]

@wiingburnt​ plotted s. Shadow & Bone

                         His mind was still foggy, a thudding pain prominent in his temple. He must have hurt his head while falling --- Sky took a deep breath, blinking the confusion away. Years of training made it possible for him to endure, to carry on. And that was exactly what he needed to do now, he could not lay down and die at the Ravkan border, far from home, far from the place where he was supposed to take root. 

They were still out here somewhere, it was the only explanation that made sense. Brum and the others would never leave him for dead, to rot underneath open sky. They were still fighting somewhere, if he closed his eyes he could sense them still, make himself believe.

One foot in front of the other he made his first careful steps, away from the battleground, from charred trees and upheaved earth. There was a dead Grisha lying close to him, a girl with flamming hair as vibrant as the sparks she had conjured out of thin air only moments before his world went dark. He threw one quick gaze towards her, she was young - she had been young - and for a heartbeat he needed to remind himself of her danger. Drüsje. Another step forward and a sudden movement beside him. Sky froze, turned again. She was alive. She had survived. Like him. 

He should end it, right here, right now, before she woke and made it even harder for him. But then he would be on his own again, in a country he did not understand. Something inside him resisted that thought, urged him towards her instead. "Get up", his voice gentle yet commanding, "You'll freeze to death if you keep lying here" He thought about helping her, but he could not bring himself to touch one of those witches. "You are a prisoner of Fjerda now" - bold words for someone who could barely stand, vision still blurry - "You must face trial, not die here in these godforsaken wilds"

[logophilism]

Fractured Starlight - Part 1

Hi. So this is part 1 of my fic for the Grishaverse Big Bang. It’s probably a bit late. Probably a lot late. Welp. @grishaversebigbang 

My gang: 

Corporalki: @aragentum, @rebooka17 

Materialki: @abaduchi, @paphns, @catpidgeon, @wavesofinkdrops, @erlaszx

Fic summary: A series of perspectives following the crows pre-SoC and post-CK. Canon compliant.

Word Count: 1065

--------

Part 1: Matthias

  “Lisbet!”

  The little girl giggled, running -- well, what counted as running -- through Matthias’ legs.

  “Lisbet!” Matthias swivelled around, only to find the girl hiding under the table with her hands over her eyes. He grinned, then bent down and picked her up. “Now, Elisabet.” She pouted. “No running away, okay? If you do, the evil Grisha will come get you.” He bared his teeth for a second. “And we don’t want that.”

  The girl just giggled again and swatted at him with a chubby fist. Matthias smiled again, then, still carrying the girl, turned around and called out, “Mamma! I’ve got her!”

  Not that it had been particularly hard, of course, but his mother still smiled and ruffled his hair.

  “Stay safe and be home before dinner, okay?” she said, taking Lisbet from his arms. The girl wiggled and pouted. 

  Matthias grinned at her, then grabbed his coat. “Yes, Mamma! Bye, Lisbet.” Shrugging on the coat, he headed out. 

  The town was small, and cozy, with haphazard rows of houses made with brick or wood and roof tiles dusted with early snow. In the center stood a giant ash, splayed branches bare in preparation for winter. The town was small, for on one side stood a wide river, its edges just beginning to freeze, and on the other, a forest. Just south of the village was a small hill, crowned with sparse shrubbery and the occasional bare tree. 

  On the hill were three boys.

  “Thaddeus! No fair!” Matthias cried, the skinny boy vaulted over a low bush. The smaller boy stopped, turned, and stuck his tongue out at him. Matthias, panting, stepped around the bush and charged after him, overtook him. Just a little further.

  When he reached the clearing, he collapsed. Groaning, he heaved himself onto his back, only to see his other friend crouching over him with the smuggest expression on his face.

  “For the record,” said Mikkel, “That’s the third time I’ve won.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “Thaddeus is coming. I can hear him,” The boy lay down beside Matthias, “You got better. Still not as good as me, though.”

  “Shut up.”

  Thaddeus arrived, then, heaving for breath, and crumpled to the ground next to Mikkel.

  They stared at the slowly darkening sky until Matthias broke the silence.

  “So,” he said. They all sat up.

  “So,” Thaddeus countered.

  “Who wants to--”

  “Guys,” Mikkel interjected, staring at something downhill, “Who are those?”

  Matthias sat up straighter and looked. Emerging from the edge of the forest were perhaps half a dozen people, dressed in deep blue and holding torches. The group made their way to the boundary of the town, then stop.

  “That’s your dad, right?” Matthias nudged Thaddeus, pointing to the lone figure stepping out to greet the newcomers. The other boy nodded. Thaddeus’ father gestured to something and shouted, then pulled out his sword, pointing it at the strangers.

  All three boys sucked in a breath.

  One of the figures dressed in blue stepped forward. They raised their hands. Time fractured.

  With a large, broad motion, the stranger pulled the fire from one of the torches, sweeping it through the air like a fiery whip. The man with the sword tried to step back, stumbled, fell. The ribbon of flame struck him, then, enveloped him, the flickering red and gold stark against the melting snow. His scream was audible from the hillside.

  “Inferni,” Mikkel breathed, his voice low and shaking, “Bloody-- bloody inferni.”

  But Matthias and Thaddeus were already tearing down towards the village, ignoring the path as they ran through the sparse shrubbery, trying, trying desperately to reach the houses in time. Before they even reached the foot of the hill, however, it was too late.

  The town was burning. 

  The houses, with their wooden frames, went up like matchsticks. Flames leapt between them, from house to house to tree to house as if in tune to some hellish dance, accompanied by an orchestra of screams and shouts and great plumes of black smoke, clogging the air with death. 

  The town was burning. The town, the town Matthias had been in all his life, the town that currently held his entire family, was burning. Burning.

  Matthias stumbled towards it, choking, crying. The blistering heat pressed in on him, the acrid smoke surrounded him. He couldn’t see his own feet. Mamma, he thought, Pappa. He opened his mouth to form the words, but inhaled a lungful of soot instead. He stumbled, and fell face-first into a pile of coarse ash that burned his skin. Ash. The remains of some part of a home, and the remains of some family. Djel, the remains of people. 

  He tried to crawl forward, tried to reach his family, his mom and his dad and Lisbet -- Lisbet! -- but only fell again. He lay there, coughing.

  A hand reached out and grabbed him around the middle. No, no! He tried to twist himself free, but his limbs were weak and his vision was swimming. Someone clapped a cool cloth around his nose and mouth, and the world went dark.

  It was a dream. It had to be a dream. It had to have been some kind of horrible nightmare, nevermind the ashes in his torn clothes and the bandages on his hands. Nevermind the smoke that still hung in the sky over the patch of empty land between the forest and the river. Nevermind the charred remains of bones and twisted lumps of metal. Nevermind the kind words from the drüskelle -- for it was the drüskelle, following the inferni, that had saved him.

  Nevermind all that, because it was agony. His family -- his Mamma and Pappa and his little baby sister -- was gone. His friends were, too. Had Thaddeus burned like his father, lighting up like a torch? Had Mikkel suffocated, like Matthias should have? There were no survivors, bar him.

  And it was the inferni that had done it. The inferni. Witches, demons, Grisha.

  It was days before he spoke again, days before he coaxed his throat to form the words, quiet and rasping and empty though they were.

  “How do I become a drüskelle?”

  And one of the soldiers turned to look, look at the boy with the flat eyes and singed hair and the desperate, dark hatred in every tense line of his body. And he tilted his head.

  “We’ll take you to meet Jarl Brum.”

--------

A/N: The names are Scandinavian and the right time period, and I tried to pick ones that seemed similar to Matthias’. Lisbet is a shortened form of Elisabet, which was what a random generator picked, but I’d think of it as the Fjerdans acknowledging the bravery of a Ravkan saint without knowing she was a Grisha. So, feedback please!

[architectnews]

Pontoatelier designs charred-wood pavilion as "a space of liberty and freedom"

Blackened wood borders a grid of evenly spaced volcanic rocks inside this pavilion, which Pontoatelier has designed to support social-distancing in the Azores.

Built on the volcanic São Miguel Island for the Walk&Talk arts festival, the Inbetween Pavilion is an open-air room for people to play, perform or practice yoga safely during the coronavirus pandemic.

The Inbetween Pavilion is bordered by charred wood

The 25 rocks inside the structure are all placed at two-metre intervals, which is widely regarded as a safe distance between individuals in order to minimise transmission of Covid-19.

Pontoatelier's goal is to offer a safe space for people to gather, while social distancing, to bring back a sense of freedom after a year of isolation and lockdowns.

The wood conceals a grid of volcanic rocks inside

"This atypical year of 2020 changed our way of living, our dimensions, distances, scales, in and out spaces," Pontoatelier told Dezeen. "Now we have a new reality."

"We designed a public space, and outside space that is more than physical, is also a spiritual one," the studio continued. "In general, this is a space of liberty and freedom where we can be together."

Blackened wood was chosen to contrast with the green landscape

The pavilion is located within the centre of an abandoned golf course on the island and takes the form of a square measuring 20 metres by 20 metres, nodding to the year of 2020.

While supporting the layout of volcanic rocks at two-metre distances, a square layout was also chosen to juxtapose the organic forms of the natural materials used to construct it.

The Inbetween Pavilion's minimal material palette includes cryptomeria wood – a type of large evergreen tree – and volcanic rock, selected by Pontoatelier as they are both abundant materials on the island.

The wood was charred after construction to complement the rocks and create contrast with the verdant landscape of the site, helping to draw attention to the pavilion.

The volcanic rocks are positioned at two-metre intervals

"The Azores islands are like volcanic rocks that float in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean," said Pontoatelier.

"We wanted to use materials from the place, literally only wood and stones. The volcanic stones and cryptomeria wood are very common on this island."

The spaces between the rocks facilitate social distancing

The timber panels enclosing the pavilion are positioned at a slight incline, which creates triangular gaps at each corner.

These gaps function as discreet entrances, while still concealing what is inside the structure to attract passersby to enter and explore.

Volcanic rocks and timber were used as they could be locally sourced

Black-coloured wood was also used to design the cylindrical pavilion In Absence by Edition office and Yhonnie Scarce, which won small building of the year at the Dezeen Awards 2020.

The minimalist pavilion in Australia was designed to highlight the erasure of Indigenous knowledge and memory from Australia's national story.

It stands out within the centre of an abandoned golf course

Other designers that supporting social distancing in light of the coronavirus pandemic include Object Studio, which has developed a portable bench for Amsterdam that allows users to sit two metres apart, and UNIT Fabrications, which created a series of mobile screens to keep children safe at a primary school in London.

A "Keep Your Distance" football pitch was among the 15 proposals by creative agencies that imagined how public spaces could be transformed to better support social distancing as part of an initiative called Where We Stand.

Photography is by Mariana Lopez.

Project credits

Design team: Pontoatelier Commission: Walk&Talk festival Consultants: Luis Brum Builders: Luis Brum, Mário Medeiros, Rúben Monfort and António Silva

The post Pontoatelier designs charred-wood pavilion as "a space of liberty and freedom" appeared first on Dezeen.