Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Anglican church of Canada backs same-sex marriage

Citgo Sign step closer to possible landmark status

Muslim group erects billboards

Cash-Strapped Towns Are Un-Paving Roads

DB Cooper

A380 Rate Cut

Hyperloop Sued

#AnotherHashtag

The Rise of Theresa May

Security Nightmare

UK’s ‘revolutionary’ Sabre rocket

Literature in Castro’s Cuba




























Fidel Speaks: Literature in Castro’s Cuba
What hate will do to Cuba  from the Presidency of the United States. 

Saders endores

The coup parte deux

Noun Verbs

Noun  verbs. The noun verbs. Then, noun verbs.
Noun verbs, in  retrospective style.
But its it adverb verbal sine quala shine,
a passa retro-sylo putaoya yu diacritic sprezte Deutsche?
It is passing away, this langue I knew.
Disperso dans une rime sargrahi.

Joe Paterno knew of Jerry Sandusky abuse in 1976

20 die in train collision

Expurgated: fourth chapter removed

SSI

Philippines wins South China Sea case against China

A Solitary Crow - Elkall-Anuz - 4

4
Like Summer Tempests Came His Tears


It was not a manor – that cornerstone of medieval life – but it aspired to be one. Just as it is owner wanted to be a knight, with all of the details that came with it. Instead, the aspiration was clearly a sham - though it is owner did not what was wrong. He had a keep – or so he thought. And the keep was at a forge of a river. It did not occur to him that the bridge was unmade, and people had to cross at a low hanging rapids. It also did not occur to him to treat his peasants – at least once in a while – with a degree of respect, or even ignoring them. Instead one could see by the welts and bruises that any infraction which a serf or a peasant would be set upon brutally by the owner. This had three effect. One was since it was the only ford for miles around, he could get away with it. But, on the other hand, no one was going to make more of the owners status then was absolutely necessary. Which brings us to the third thing, the owner was not particularly smart, so they would come to sample his food and wares, telling him that he could be knighted – and then leave not to think of him again until they need something from him.

The owner did not understand why this would happen – though the peasants new, and would make them selves scarce in that moment between that moment where the owner was desperate for a title.
For the three compatriots, the days days were long, especially for the legionnaire. Loria was not concerned with all of this, and would sleep very little and draw endless pictures of the stars. She explained that there were interlopers – comets and so on – that would appear, and she was obsessive about drawing them. It was clear that her eyes were more sensitive than his were, probably she could pick up a quarter of light that he could. But then, the stars were not his desire – other than knowing a few that would point him in the correct direction.

Thus, the spring left, and it was summer when they left the in. unlike most people, they did not continue along the so-called “Salt Road”. Most people were headed to Tharda, the only Republic on the island, or to one the kingdoms beyond it – Kanday, or the evil Rethem. Rethems politics were dominated by the segments of Morgath, and of Agik fighting orders. It was at this point that the legionnaire listened, not to Gwynwyffer and her excessive talking, but to Loria and her explanation as to why the evil gods held sway in the West but not in the East.

They had not been bothered by any people – or assorted other things. It was Loria's theory that the attack was just too delayed them and the real assault would the at Ekall-Anuz when they got there. So the main practice of the legionnaire was to sharpen his skills with fighting, and with language – which he was better at than before. He met a few people – and drank with them – learning what he could about the politics and geography of the island. He noticed that there were very very few people from off of Hârn. From the mainland he had never thought of going to Hârn – and he saw that this was the case for most of the people.

From the East, he heard of the ins and outs of the Senate, which met in Cornan – and the goings on in Golgotha – a free city, so-called – which was entirely in the hands of the most wicked people imaginable. It was governed by a Council which was openly in the hands of the Morgath. Their people would be hung – and worse – for the most minute infractions of the rules. And the rules could be made up almost daily.

From the West, there was continual speculation arises out of when the king – Miginath is his name – will die. In Kaldor, when the old King dies a succession counsel is convened. When there is a clear heir, it will generally vote for the heir to be the next ruler. But when there is not, and the monarch does not make it known who he wishes to have succeeded him, there is a more delicate process. Since the King would rather have people guessing among which of the bastard sons he wishes to have in his place – there being no legitimate successor – there is already a great deal of politicking as to which person will inherent the thrown. The legionnaire had spent a great number of nights listening to people have their say, but in reality there are at most a dozen people who will be listened to.

The one thing that was important, was to keep secret Loria's existence. But he knew how to do this, not by asking the innkeeper, but by a trick which Gwynwyffer told him: go to the Severed Hand, which is an inn which normally does not take guests until Trobrigde his full, and arrange a long stay with him – paying a good deal extra for the convenience. This way, he can let the innkeeper deal with the proper authorities. This way the supposed innkeeper – Kurson – will take a cut, but will not make himself known. Or at least openly known, though he might quietly do something.

And he did, for within the tenday a group of Kaldor men came riding up. The ingratiated themselves into the Severed Hand, and searched the rooms. Needless to say, they did not find anyone but the legionnaire and Gwynwyffer – and there was no sign of anyone else. They departed, guessing that if there was anyone else she would have gone south into the Shava forest, and into Evael – the kingdom of the elves.

There was a great deal of discussion between the legionnaire and Gwynwyffer, wondering if more forces from Kaldar would be coming. So every morning they checked from the East, but no sign that they had been discovered by the nearest human kingdom ever came out. So they by day the hours of light grew longer and then shorter again, and it seemed as if they were not going to be attacked in Trobridge. But in the night, they caught a few glimpses of shadowy figures, which definitely were not human. But they stayed well out of the town, creeping around in the woods. It all three new that these were servants of Morgath, either directly, or more likely indirectly through one of his demigods. They watched and they waited, but no attack was mounted while they stayed within the village limits. Seemed as if they would have to defend once the were out of human site.

In last there came a day, which even as it kept over into mornings twilight was different – because the Elf got up that day, and prepared herself for leaving; it was 1 Larane, of the second month of summer. Loria had not said anything to either traveling comrade, nor it seems did she need to. Their was a silent court among all three, perhaps it was some magic from either Gwynwyffer or Loria. This meant that the other two also would get out - legionary paying a good sum of money for their stay – and they sent off North, towards the earthmaster city. Obviously they did say they were going to the ruins, but you can see from number of the faces, that one or two had guessed or suspected they were. There was not much to the north of Trobridge, and they were not the first to want a look at Lothrim's tomb, or the older sites.

By common agreement, they stole away without crossing the rapids – legionnaire again disliked how they had to pay for streaming the ford, it was distasteful to him. It was a bright sunny day, and it seemed no one had noticed there going, accept the owner of the Severed Hand – promised to say nothing. With the bright light of the sun at their backs, they sent forth as the woods grew to a misty deciduous forest; and then they started climbing, which gave way to a coniferous forest from time to time. They were cautious, because at any moment there could be followers of Morgath, roving Kadoric knights, or a band of male gargun – there are few females, and they keep in side of their hive, primarily making babies and running things as they see fit. The gargun culture is decidedly matriarchal in nature.

Birds, and assorted herbivorous animals was all they saw– they saw nothing for the first two days. But on the third day, when from the South came a drizzling of rain, things were quite different. First of all they got up – or at least Gwynwyffer and legionnaire got up – it seemed Loria was still awake – and it was colder than the night before. This plus the weather made for a miserable morning, and they packed up in silence, and were ready to go at the first signs of morning. Though they could not see the sun, there was light coming from it. But then things got worse – as the clouds became thicker, and the temperature dropped still farther.

At this point Loria pointed at the ground, and noted that there were Gargun tracks on the ground, and they were very fresh. They did not know whether or not the were living gargun – or the kind of undead which they saw just before Trobridge. Gwynwyffer shivered at the prospect, because though she was capable with her sling and quarterstaff, there was something about an undead gargun with upset her – though it was a quiet upset.

They started moving more slowly, and listened very closely to the surroundings. And they were not disappointed. Because the gargun, in this case, were noisy – blaring their way through the woods as if they did not care who would notice them. Normally they would attack at night, and while they were not extremely stealthy, they were better than the majority of people were. But this time it was different, and it seemed from on top of a hill that they crested, the gargun were spread out looking for them. It was clear that they were not hunting for them, but set out to capture them. Which means that they were under instructions. Because normally the only plan that gargun have is to eat whatever they find.

From the distance along the hill, the three of them watched as the gargun slowly and methodically checked everything, whether trees or holes or rocks. And their were such rocks here as could only have come from the mountains to the west. Clearly, there were markings on them – which Gwynwyffer recognized as Jarin burial designs. The letters were of a runic variety, though much older then the Ivinian type which came later.

The legionnaire took command and squatting bind one of these runic pieces, told the other two to get over here the river – which they had not strayed from – and attempt to sneak around this party. After all, if they were under orders, it would be probable that they would not be doing a good job – since everyone knew that the gargun were lazy about following orders. Only the very powerful could get them to do anything, such as Lothrim. Anyone else would have difficulties.

Grottoes in mist - eventually they reached the deep, torrential river – and the sound of it was deafening. It seemed that no one could hear them over this flood that came from the scattering of water. There was a spray, casting off rainbows from the rocks, stones, and pebbles. Even with the clouds, there was something spectacular in it. They had hit a minor tributary of the river, a bit outside the lake which was forming just ahead. When they reached the halfway point, that would be about half the distance to the ruins. If he could recall correctly, it was not a large lake – but with the gargun working there way across it, it was not size that mattered.

What he feared was that there would be falls, because he did not know what was in store for them – and he did not want to ask his two traveling partners. The map had been sketched, and not well. So he hoped that there was no interruption in the course of the river or its tributaries. He also hoped that the barbaric tribe was quiescent – if they were not the masters ordering the gargun to march. Then he definitely heard a twig break, and that usually meant that someone was creeping up on him. Where he found himself was in a V neck, with a stream flowing down the center, and firs going up the inside of it. It seemed that the noise had come from above them, and all of them stopped – they had all heard the sound, and all of them wanted to know what it was. It was probably something ill.

He looked at Gwynwyffer – because suddenly Loria had disappeared – and she looked back. Her face was calm, and serene. She got out her sling, and prepared to use it. Then there was an ominous quiet, as if both sides were trying to figure out where the other side was. Normal person would have had their heart racing, but he was extremely calm. This was the sort of thing that he lived for, and if need be die for. There was a flash out of the corner of his right eye, away from the river.

Quickly, he dove behind a tall fir tree – and he noticed that his human companion did the same. From the same direction as was first fired from, a stream of arrows came crashing down. It seemed that at least three were firing from the same position. For several breaths of air, the legionnaire and Gwynwyffer stood behind their respective trees, hoping that they would not be surrounded. At first it seemed that it might be an elf, or group of elves, so rapid was the pattering. But finally he got a glimpse, and realized that they were Rangers of Kaldor – and they had been following them for quite some time. He recognized them from the inn – and suspected that they were waiting for him.

With the Rangers, and the gargun, chasing them – it seemed like they would be frustrated from entering the ruins. But this only redoubled his determination to enter – because neither group could do what he hoped Loria could do – enter the pseudo-stone. If he could enter in, and then leave by the portal – it would be something that no other man from his army had done for, and a report of this would be a further in his cap. But it would take both strength and cunning, and the first problem was getting rid of the arrow. But he realized, that while they were shooting, they could not move. Thus a plan began to emerge in his mind. They were firing has fast they could, which probably meant that they did not know where their targets actually were. So his plan was to strike, and strike deliberately, aiming very carefully.

He unstrung his short bow – and then ignited with the magical flame that he conjured. Ordinarily the bow would not be hot enough, but it grew in intensity as it flew. Until when it crashed down, it made a spark. This was not enough to burn them, but it was enough to make them scatter. Then he made other arrows ignite, and let them loose. Instead of taking shot after shot, he aimed carefully. The first hit was on target, it was a tall man, with a heavy beard that was black. He got him in the beard, and watched it like up with thaumaturgical pyrotechnics. This made to others stop – and keep him another shot. But also from his left came a stone from a sling – he had immediately guessed that this was 

Gwynwyffer in action. Then another surprise occurred – Loria appeared right on top of two others which were aiming their bows. Unlike all of the humans, Loria was stretching forth the greatest bow that anyone had ever seen. So while he was pulling another arrow that was burning with fire – her shots were on target. It was something to see – the arrows that she was heaving were a mighty shot. He knew that he could not even imagine how much force would be behind it. But the damage was immense, each shot through the head brought an enemy down. The remaining Rangers scattered, because they saw what could be done to them – both by his fiery arrows, and by her great bow. And that was enough to teach them lesson.

Now came another question – to they case after them, or not? Remembering that the gargun were probably right behind them. Then he decided to signal the other two, and make a retreat, because after all there target was the dome and the ruins, not chasing after a few Rangers. He made hand gestures both to Gwynwyffer and to Loria. They understood his meeting, and took flight towards the river, and away to temporary safety.

So up the ravine they went, and when they got to the top, they saw the lake, emerging closer than they thought. It was a bit of trouble to cross the river, and eventually they decided that the best way was to open out into the basin, and find a place to wait as far as they could. When they could go no farther, they began to swim. It was at this point that he noticed that the lake probably have a basin beneath it, so cold was it. Did not know what this meant, but it meant something.

Over the course of the next few days, they saw nothing except gargun in the distance. They hoped that would be all, because they were hoping to escape from the pseudo-stone. They were careful, and stuck close to either trees or large stones. A couple times they hid from the gargun.

Then they came directly on to the ruins, and beyond that the dome that was made out of what they did not know. The trees empty out – and they saw a large tapestry. In the foreground, facing West, there was a toppled fortress – a castle that was built for the slope. This was unusual, because most castles or fortresses sat on top of the highest point. The fortress was unusually broad, and behind it on the right was a series of barrows, designed before the fortress. They carried over a broad highway – that was apparently for the dead. These were piles of stone, and were aging rather badly. Obviously, these were human – because elves do not bury their dead, and dwarves bury them underground. Behind the fortress was a hill dedicated to Lothrim, and on its peak was a designed pool, that was built by earthmasters.

Beyond that, they could see a dome, but only in the distance. The these were designed first, they were pristine. The fortress and the barrows were aging badly, the walls of the structure were crumbling. The entire area had a few trees, but only a few. Largely it consisted of meadows. Which meant that someone, or something, was clearing out the area. In the distant courtyards, and the portals, there was an uneasy feeling, as if someone was staring down at them.

Arriving during high summer – with the twilight coming right behind, and various forms of flowers and fruits beckoning to them, Gwynwyffer stopped and sniffed the lang. She warned both of them: “Do not taste anything, because everything is very poisonous.” They set up camp for the night, but it was a cold camp – so as not to disturb either men or other creatures.