If ‘NO MORE THAN THREE WORDS’ is mentioned in the question, does it necessarily mean that one of the questions have a three words answer?

2022.01.20 11:58 Radioheader377 If ‘NO MORE THAN THREE WORDS’ is mentioned in the question, does it necessarily mean that one of the questions have a three words answer?

Does it mean one of my answers are wrong if I don’t have any three word answer (otherwise they would use no more than two/one word)
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2022.01.20 11:58 ReeferEyed Editing Form submissions and resubmitting the flow?

Hello, I have created a flow where I am receiving a massive amount of inputs from users. 5000 this month alone, but so many people don't know how to correctly put in their email addresses. Missing the @ symbol, putting in spaces etc...
Is there a way I can edit a failed flow and resubmit it? Instead of copying all their data and either resubmitting a form for them or putting into a side flow for these types of errors.
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2022.01.20 11:58 radishlaw Bar Association will stay away from politics: new chairman

Bar Association will stay away from politics: new chairman submitted by radishlaw to HongKong [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 Justcruzn411 Mai Sakura Powder and Cheek brushes-With the coming price hike and shortage of quality hair I have been on quite the buying spree this last month. These are high quality brushes with beautiful Makie handles at an affordable price. Made with Blue Squirrel and Sokoho they are absolutely hidden gems!

Mai Sakura Powder and Cheek brushes-With the coming price hike and shortage of quality hair I have been on quite the buying spree this last month. These are high quality brushes with beautiful Makie handles at an affordable price. Made with Blue Squirrel and Sokoho they are absolutely hidden gems! submitted by Justcruzn411 to Fude [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 ForsytheX_X I've been struggling to kill the dragon before. And I saw someone posted here using Eclair cookie, and he delivers. Definitely my new fav together with cotton.

I've been struggling to kill the dragon before. And I saw someone posted here using Eclair cookie, and he delivers. Definitely my new fav together with cotton. submitted by ForsytheX_X to CookieRunKingdoms [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 Dry_Needleworker3870 Which wwe star has never been on tv (wwe content excluded) great khali, Chris master, the miz, dolph ziggler

Which wwe star has never been on tv (wwe content excluded) great khali, Chris master, the miz, dolph ziggler submitted by Dry_Needleworker3870 to BrandonDoesEverthing [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 Neat-Lingonberry-682 #सत भक्ति संदेश

#सत भक्ति संदेश submitted by Neat-Lingonberry-682 to SaintRampalJi [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 JenniferADavi Submission for ArtCrawl 2022

Submission for ArtCrawl 2022 submitted by JenniferADavi to gifsthatkeepongiving [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 Blue-0 This thousand-year-old example of a kid doodling in Hebrew school

This thousand-year-old example of a kid doodling in Hebrew school submitted by Blue-0 to interestingasfuck [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 attigirb Article from Eye on Design about an 80s revival in advertising

Article from Eye on Design about an 80s revival in advertising submitted by attigirb to 80sdesign [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 xxfemohxx Undeserved 1 Year Ban

I hope Valve can help me with this problem because it is not the first time.
Hi Valve,
Yesterday I received a one year ban from Dota 2 for "boosting, account sharing, or other matchmaking abuse". I can assure you that I have not been cheating, abusing, in any way. Linked is my Dotabuff dotabuff.com/players/361446303 .
I feel like I've been unfairly banned, it's not the first time it's happened a long time ago, I got banned from my account for a year. I have all kinds of tests, I have played alchemist before with a streak of up to 10 games 3 months ago and now that I played alchemist again and I am on a streak they gave me a ban when in my account it is not the first time that I have spammed alchemist to be able to uploading my mmr, I'm very fond of that account apart from the money I've put into the game and the levels I was going to buy in this battle pass.
I trust this problem will be resolved soon. I understand that players can sometimes get frustrated and report based on that frustration, but my game, my stats, my MMR hasn't increased significantly and I trust any kind of matchmaking abuse system will take that into account.
Postdata: My medal has recalibrated itself after the ban I hope they can fix that.
Thank you very much in advance.
XXXXX
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2022.01.20 11:58 EllaTheExoticAlien Someone Graffiti'd the #snoophood in Sandbox Game!

https://twitter.com/mgh_metadev/status/1484083914356441090
I'm not complaining though, I actually thing it's really cool! Someone spray painted MGH in the Sandbox Game metaverse at MGH's property near Snoop Dogg! If you didn't know MGH is one of the best metaverse hidden gem's and is the only project doing valuation with chainlink for LAND in sandbox game! Definitely check them out and their twitter, next 100x gem! And the artwork is so cool!
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2022.01.20 11:58 The_Human_Empire I finally finished the prologue chapter of my prequel books. Been working on this one chapter since October, and even longer for the whole thing in regards to plot, lore, etc. Any thoughts? It's about 6k words long.

(This is set in an alternate timeline, so history is intentional wonky.)
Blightburn’s Hail
Book 1: Squabbles for Fools
First, an Introduction:
You’ve heard great tales of men so brave and bold.
Of words of wonder, and worlds at woe.
Stories I’ve laid since I’ve seen them fold.
Of death departed, and his solar seer.
Where songs of sorrow came and swallowed,
The wretched rage of a God that no more is here.
And that seer, oh that sorcerous seer,
How the stars hath blessed her severe!
And hath deemed her so worthy of worlds reborn from tear.
But these are not those saints and sinners, nor is this their song.
For the boy who pulled sword from stone,
And the uncle-father of his own,
Who cleansed his island home from the flames of the dragons’ own.
(Though he failed against the white dragon's throne.)
But the boy’s heir was a coward,
Cold as a craven
To honour some measly Yuletide game that’s been creepin’
And thus tarnish came his line a thousand yules hence.
Though that is not the only song we’re singing in sense.
For men of the stars came falling,
And in their tow came horrors beyond such petty yammering.
Now I, Franz Arvid Scribitssen,
Once lord of all texts and tales,
Shall regale you with this new song to sail.
Chapter 0: Mycelium
White death, like needled fingers did the frost-winds howled like some beast in these frigid lands. And Sygmand was sick of it. Sick of all the it! All the dead-white snow that stretched out for a million miles. All the pale-blue water that peaked over the cracked glacial floor. All the mute, dark fog that blanketed his sight. The cold, the storms, the beasts, the sledding, all of it! Aside his company, it was all he saw for half a decade now.
Gods, Five years? Sygmand shuddered at that number. He had long accepted the truth that it will get larger ‘till perhaps his grave. Yet still, he could not help the shivers off such things.
“You alright?” asked Márgu, almost shouting even. The storm made sure on that. Her muffled voice came with the frosted mist of her breathe, same as the rest of the party each time words came to pass. She was a fair young woman of Twenty-Seven, with pale-gold hair shielded by her cap, and an odd accent too. But it sounded nice, soothing even. And if she did not wear such colourful clothes,— so vibrant in reds and blues that it made Sygmand’s own look like rags —, then he would not have reckoned that she came North of the Norselands. On the great lands of the Sámi, where the first republics North of Greece first rose. A far cry of a place for the daughter of a rather important figure.
She was their navigator, and she manned the sled. With Sygmand and Three others behind her, and the one who hired the lot of ‘em beside her. There were other sleds behind them too. Sygmand counted Five, but he knew there was at least Twelve the last time they took camp. No doubt that the fog’s just hiding them, but he just could not shake off the thought that maybe some weird winter beast had a nice meal south of them.
“Ey!” Márgu snapped her gloved fingers. Sygmand blanked out again. He had not slept for days now. And if he ever did, he may as well never wake again.
“Sorry, I, uh, augh, it’s, it has been a long night.” He scrubbed his eyes at that. Some failed attempt at lightening his mood, to which he laughed in defeat. “Here, this might help. Chew it. It will keep you distracted.” She handed him a bag of jerky, to which he thanked her solemnly. The meat was hard, but it taste was the best he ever had. Just a bit too cold for his liking though. Thus he snapped his fingers, and from the friction blazed blue fire. A magic he had learnt from his late grandfather. A tool for many things, to which his family chose the ridding of Draugr from non-Norse soil. Yet now he uses it to reheat meat.
“It’s been a long day. The Shade’s a million miles till sunhide.” Kallik corrected. He wore a thick wolf’s-fur coat seven-fold, finer than any East of Atlantis. He sat to the left of Sygmand, eyes on him with a smirked disappointment.
There was something about Kallik that annoyed Sygmand. Though whether that may be his obsession for correcting everyone, or his complete lack of awareness to such acts remains to be seen. Sygmand must have stared too long however. “Heh, it’s just a pocket watch. I got it from the Raj.” Kallik was an idiot, Sygmand realized. Instead of noticing that he acts like the smartest child in the chapel, he instead thought that Sygmand was staring at his foreign trinket. He even showed it grand with a smirk, and Sygmand would have pounced him then and there. But the intricacies of his accessory was interesting enough for him to calm down.
It was this strange silver thing in his hand. A flat round object, with an even stranger chain on the side. And it can split in half too.
In it’s surface were elaborate markings of some extinct text. Perhaps the old script of the long gone Roman tribes or some other, though these ones were of a different tongue entirely. Sure he knew how to read, but it was all Danish in his head. And most certainly not with this script, for all civilized men of the British Archipelago read the texts of the great empire of Etrusca. However there were enough similarities to note that it was of Germanic tongue. Though from which German tongue that may be, well, it was a mystery.
Inside the flipped split were Three arrow-sticks. Each spinning faster than the last. There were Indian numerals too. He can’t read them, but he counted Twelve, and maybe over Fifty smaller slits. The thick, short one pointed at the top. Almost to the number by the right, but not quite. And the longest one pointed at the bottom. In the middle of the leftmost quarter. The red one was spinning too fast to read unfortunately. Each stick must have told a specific instance in time. Interesting. But even more so, did he just say Raj?
“Did you just say Raj? As in the lands carved by the folks from the other world? From Parthia to Burma? I did not know you went that far East, dear doctor.” Kallik was an Inuit from a great city that knelt under an even greater empire just west of Markland,– the city of Akulivik under the glory of Thule, Sygmand recalled —, yet he somehow had a trinket from the other side of the globe? If he did went there, then Sygmand would buy him a gallon of mead, and hand his sister to him.
“Ah no, I just got it from a merchant.” Shame.
“Hah! I once got a Martian Rifle from a merchant once. I mean, musket balls did not come with it, but it still works. Maybe.” Their employer turned behind to face them. And they replied with a silent stare.
“Oh... Alright...” Baron Leiv Eirikssen, Eighteenth of His Name, raised his hands in defeat. He was a man of pure incompetence. Crow-haired, skin-thin, and dull to the bone, enough for ravens to outsmart and almost ate him first time they met. And it wasn’t for the Twenty-Seventh time that Sygmand finally agreed to adventure into this, with of course the hefty price of Leiv’s daughter of Eighteen and gold ten-fold his weight. But turns out that, well, he had no daughter. Never even touched a woman. And there was no gold too, since they were stuck beyond the fucking Arctic freezing their balls off.
“How in Loki’s glee do you keep that smug tone of yours? We’ve been sledding North since 1545!” Sygmand slammed the sled’s door to the right of them. Scaring mildly the Reindeers, and that one Wolf-Elk up front. Nothing too frenziedly for Márgu to handle, but he still got a slap on the hand from her and a cold stern stare.
“Chemosh forgive you, calm yourself!” The Baron raised his hands in surrender.
“I will fucking burn your face off.” Sygmand snapped his right fingers again. And this time, the fire burnt hotter, and larger.
The whole sled was lit by blue, and it reminded him of the colour of the North. The Far North. The real North. Sygmand would have blasted his Lord Baron then and there, but his fire looked too much alike this land. It was a perfect fit, and he dreaded it, as if he was destined to die here. And he could do was stare at it in grimace.
“Milords, the tower’s ahead you!” Cried another sled west of them, causing Márgu to halt her herd, and Sygmand to put out the flame by the shade of his fingers.
They all dropped off the sled as soon as the ‘Tower’ came into sight. Such drop dug them knee deep. Strange, last camp was half the depth, and that was only a month ago.
The Baron stayed however. He just stared there straight to Sygmand, confused as to what he had done wrong. It was not until Márgu stared at him back that he finally joined the others.
This ‘Tower’ was an odd thing though, Sygmand mused as it’s fogged silhouette came ever clearer. Even when the fog blinded them, they could all still see a black obelisk of hard, blocky edges, whose width is that of only Six men abreast. And it was flat too. Too flat, with only ever so tiny hints of curvature. Alien and steady, it stood over a field of flat, frozen white with no others like it in sight. Like a sail ship amidst the desert, or a single fungus amongst a field to be ploughed.
It was a peculiar sight, yes. Sygmand never denied that. But this expedition was meant for the Northern edge of the world. To be the first to stand and see it in all it’s infinite glory, yet now they were staring at some stupid pile of cubes. There were Nine gallies, and now all but one remained. And it’s ‘docked’ kilometres away from here, most likely already sunken, and if not, their crew had mostly certainly went home at this point. Let us not forget also, that there were a hundred sleds first time that they got to this damned hyperborean continent.
The fact that Sygmand is still alive is, uh, I’d say a ‘miracle’, but he’d say ‘curse’.
“With all your talks of adventure and discovery, my Lord Baron, you seemed to have forgotten why we came here.” Sygmand’s voice stung almost as hard as frostbite as he struggled to trudge across snow so deep that it may as well swallow him whole. He would have enjoyed it better than taking to that bastard son of Eirik anyways.
“With all due respect wizard, this thing whatever it may be, is literally the only structure we have seen since last Yule that is not make of goddamn water. And the words ‘adventure’ and ‘discovery’ relates to this far more than you complaining.”
“You mock my profession, yet you are the bastard son of some worthless chieftain from an even more worthless village in fucking Greenland of all things.” There was almost a mocking laugh in his voice, but the rest of his sledmates filled that void fast. Even if they had not however, walking through the snow at the pace of a snail was starting to numb him beyond repair.
“Why you son of a Saxon-whore!”
“Sled!” Márgu pointed at the coming sled. The same one that called ‘tower’ and had scouted it over yester.
It’s form came clear through thick storm’s fog as it dawned on them. Pulled by an Irish Elk and a dozen smaller ones no less. It was named ‘Thunder’, Leiv’s pet, tall as Two men and stronger than them tenfold. It was too much work for Leiv though. Shame, it could have killed him if he kept it by the leading sled. And as usual, the bastard lacked even the strength to make use of it in a more nutritional sense.
However, Márgu had this tired look and tone on her that made both Sygmand and the Baron feel in the wrong somehow. And thus, they fell silent and headed straight to this 'tower.’
That damned sled arrived now too, with them was Áskell, the scout and caller in tow. He was a ragged boy of Seventeen and a peasant from the salted kingdom of Orkney. If Sygmand hadn’t bought him Arctic clothes the boy would have worn actual rags, and then promptly die hours into the journey. The fact that he was the one wasting their time caused Sygmand to start regretting his purchases, that much came clear.
“You sure you know what a tower is?” Kallik came up to Áskell with his usual dipshit tone. Although this time he sounded a bit more pissed than usual. “Not again...” Sygmand watched in an agonizing groan as Kallik reached the boy.
“Yes, Milord!” the boy dropped to the snow, plummeting breast deep. Kallik helped him up though. Good on him, Sygmand groaned.
“How tall is that?” Kallik pointed at the ‘tower’.
“’Bout Two men by the shoulder, Milord.”
“Then that’s no a tower! Where are you from?”
“Orkney, Milord.” Kallik slapped him at that, and the crowd stared in shock.
“Orkney has loads of towers.” Kallik had this smug yet pissed laugh on him as he went back to the group afront the ‘tower’. To which he was met by disappointed folks.
“So Lord Doctor, what do you think it is then? If not a tower?” Bjorn said with a mocking hiss. He was one of the Vikingrs from their sled. The one who sat behind Sygmand. A man past Fifty, broad and strong by the shoulders, much like a keg, with a beard as red as autumn. He used to have an axe with him last month. Now it’s just him and his fists. And apparently, his empty head too. Or at least that what Kallik seemed to think. In truth, Bjorn cared not if it was or was not what Áskell said. Kallik was at it again, and Bjorn had little patience for such things.
“Lord Doctor?” Kallik re-joined his sledmates. Sygmand pressed his temples at that. The man lacked awareness of his self, and it showed.
“You served at the Green Chapel, did you not?” Bjorn's hiss stung with by a smirk.
“I stewarded at the Green Chapel. Then they kicked me out. The Lord Doctor sits at the Round Table, not freezing North of the Arctic.”
“They kicked you out? I wonder why.” Arms akimbo. “Just get on with it already!” Sygmand yelled. They were wasting time. Looking at some godsdamned rock in the middle of fucking nowhere, and still they managed to argue just as always. All whilst the threat that the edge of the world stretches longer than all of the Old World’s coasts combined is still very much a concern. At least for him. The others seemed to have forgotten. That, or Leiv hired the dullest folks ‘round the North Sea.
“It’s metal...” Kallik banged his cane at it. He was halfway from being halfway to deathbed, yet he needed it more than any since that Bear attacked a moon prior.
“The whole thing, Milord?” The Orcadian peasant came, along with his and one other sled.
“Who would have the riches for that? The Raj?” Leiv scratched his luscious black beard with his jewelled fingers. Sygmand scuffed at that, for half the bastard's trinkets were either fake or stolen.
“I doubt they’d go past the Mongols just to plop some metal... thing in the middle of nowhere.” Márgu scuffed even harder. She was grinning her teeth now, and it was not caused by the cold.
“Maybe it’s lost. They do have metal dragons. Stiff as they may move.” Came Ava, the other Vikingr. The one behind Kallik. Hair as brown as mud, and half the teeth for a smile. She was a haggard woman, built for battle, with the wits of an earthworm.
“Metal dragons? Where’d you heard that? Your wet nurse? Oh yes, how could I forget? You didn’t have one. Why else would you pillage churches for a job.” Sygmand mocked, and Ava recoiled. He never found mockery as fun. He never found any of this as fun. He went with them because Leiv promised riches and glory, yet the best meal he’d ever had in Six years passed is fucking reindeer jerky.
“I heard they ride them like carriages, Milords.” Kallik turned to the peasant boy. ‘Finally!’ seemed to be the word stuck to his head. Sygmand wished he could be paying attention to anything else, yet he could not look away. Especially since Kallik kissed the peasant boy in gratitude.
Sygmand raised both brows. He supposed that Kallik wouldn’t like his sister after all. But Áskell seemed to need a woman, especially since he recoiled hoarsely from that well meant assault.
Either ways Sygmand couldn’t care less if it was a metal dragon, or the peak of a sunken mountain. In fact, if it wasn’t for the cane, he’d be thinking of home now. Instead, he remembered the Bear. That white, frost demon of a Bear. There used to be Fifteen sleds before that Bear came. It looked like a normal North Bear too, clear white as the worst of winter snows. But no matter how much fire he threw at it, it... It did nothing! In fact, it even healed it, and made it stronger! And now his brother is dead, and he wore the bloodied fur of that Bear.
“Is it just me, or does this metal look like cut wood?” Márgu stroked her palm across the smooth, metal wall. It did looked like planks to some extent, with patterns flowing like a river on dance. Yet that could not be! It, it sounded like steel!
It must have felt cold, old, and dead. Sygmand reckoned as Márgu recoiled her palm off it. As if it was some ancient thing, forged long ago. She shivered at that, and he felt it too.
That, or frostbite. And as Sygmand helped tend her hand, it was indeed frostbite. Her palm had this dead black tinge to it, darker by the fingers. Fortunately it was light enough as to not cause any problems. Still he pondered how she got bitten by the frost. She had her hands gloved Threefold after all...
“Are you saying it’s wood? Made of metal? Like Ironwood?” Everyone to turned to Leiv, and not in a good way.
“You think Ironwood is made of iron?” Kallik almost found the door of the metal thing, yet now their Lord Baron yet again is parading his immense intellect.
“Can we just focus here?” Márgu palmed her temples with her cold hand, and she palmed her face as the pain seemed to have crept up to her.
“Right...” Kallik went and felt the wall again. And this time, he found the edges.
It was a strange door, squished and long. As if it was made for less Human, alien things. It’s width was that of Four men laying over each, and it’s length was almost that of them all laying next to each head by foot. The leftmost edge was taller too,— slanted, maybe —, suggesting a crash.
Kallik couldn’t find the Fourth edge, so it must have been buried.
He tried pulling and pushing, yet only sliding it by the left worked for he lacked the strength, and so he called in Bjorn. Still too weak however, thus he called the others. Ava was lean and strong, if only a bit dull, and Áskell was surprisingly stronger. Surely this is enough, Sygmand thought to himself. Yet it wasn’t. “This is sad.” Sygmand pushed the lot of them away, and burnt the edges clean. Weaker sorcerers would have only welded it, but Sygmand was not one them.
He drew along the edges, and down the floor. So strong his flame was that the cut glowed like sapphires amidst the powdered fog. And just before the molten blue fused again, he kicked it hard. Sending the piece flying off into an unexpectedly large room. So large that they could all still see the glow as it kept on falling. They never heard the thud of it’s fall even after it dimmed into the void. Sygmand expected that the breeze would fall down there,— as breeze naturally does —, yet the contrary happened. A gust of frost blew out off the entrance, one far colder than the frozen wasteland that they all stood on.
“We need to go...” Sygmand stared at it in dread. How could he just now see how wrong that thing was? A black mound of a tower amidst an ocean of white, in the lands where the sun never shined. And it’s breathe, it got to his bones. His hairs stiffened and his skin shook as he felt the depth call onto him. Begging to consume.
Yet there was heat there, down in the deepest of depths. It was a faint thing, no more than moisture. But still it fought the cold over him. Like a Dragon and a Jötunn locked in battle. It crawled under the Bear and in through his skin, making his hairs freeze and melt from every howl. This was no place for men, beasts, nor gods.
“Get the ladders.” the Baron ordered Áskell, and he obeyed in a rush.
“What?!” Sygmand grabbed Leiv by the collar, his face twitching like a craven.
“What about the expedition?” Márgu turned to them, unfazed by yet another squabble.
“We’ve been going at one direction for Five years. Someone might live her, and if so, they could help us.” The Lord Baron freed himself from Sygmand as Áskell returned with a dozen ladders, to which he was thanked with a pat on the back.
“You’re risking our lives, and your excuse is a ‘might’?!” Sygmand’s voice stung like Two warring wasp hives millions strong. Mostly due to him finally hearing the fall of that makeshift door, and it sounded like shattered ice over burning flesh.
“Do we have anything to lose anymore?” Sygmand fell silent at that. And deep down he agreed, and so he made way for the ladders.
“Thank you, now the rest of yo- '— they saw only Three sleds, and it’s been minutes since the Third arrived —’ arms.” All who had weapons showed them bare and ready, just as the last ladder was set up.
They waited for an ambush, yet none came. Whenever those Two sleds were ravaged must have been longer ago. And even farther their ravagers are unless they’re smart enough to track.
All the competent ones apart from the head sled were gone now too. The rest were mere sell-swords and sickly scholars.
“Áskell, be a good leader will you?” The Baron called for the rest of his sledmates, and down the ‘tower’ they went.
“Me Milord? But I am of no house...”
“Well now you do. From now on Áskell of Holm, you shall be known as Herra Áskell of House Saltísnjó, First of His Name.” the Lord Baron knighted him and gave him his sword, all whilst peeking over the ladder in a struggle. It wasn’t an elegant knighting, nor did Leiv looked like he meant it. Anything to boost morale these days, Sygmand scuffed. He was not even sure if Leiv was a Knight, and if elevating a foreign peasant into nobility was even legal. Especially since Leiv was of the lowest nobles around. He will most certainly take back that sword when they return. If they return.
Regardless, the Six of them went down in haste, leaving Eleven men in the hands of a boy knighted by a fool. It was a sad sight, seeing the peasant so giddy from a lie. That and the threat that some beast would absolutely maul him if they were to return any later.
Deep down, Sygmand wished they never do, so that he would not see the carnage painted over the snow. Sure the boy doomed them all, but he knew not of better things.
Alas, he pushed on downwards as did the rest. What other choice did he have? He almost mutinied, yes. But his mind was dull then, and now it was sharper than swords. Mutiny will leave him dead, even if the rest of the lot sided with him. They were stuck here, millions of miles away from home, and freezing to death in a white desert hell. Best to just follow orders and push on.
His mind was trailing off those thoughts however. For the ladder was cold to the touch. Too cold, even after all the padding and the dead Bear. ‘Touching a Jötunn’ was the only way he could describe it, and even then it was a weak description.
Worse still was that by each step, it felt warmer somehow despite the darkness. Normally 'twas a great sign for survival, of great things to come. But such an alien place gave no such solace. Damascus steel for walls, frostbite by the touch, and warmth the deeper in had only made the tingling behind his neck even greater. As if they were walking straight down a monster's maw.
Soon enough they reached the floor, too bad they were a ladder short. All was going well enough, that gap between the floor and the ladders was not that bad. Yet somehow Ava fell.
Her fall was an awful thing. They all heard a great fleshy thud, then a crack, and after seconds of silence they really did taught she was dead. But shortly enough they heard her groan, and then they saw her left elbow had bend backwards. Thankfully her Arctic coat shielded their eyes from the gore of it all.
Everyone paused at that, then promptly dropped with greater safety in mind. The sounds of their thuds were almost the same as the door’s, minus the shattering. It made Sygmand shake even worse than he did for Ava, and his only way to cope was the immediate ignition of his flames. A good call, and it revealed great high pillars, walls, and such too. And no sooner did the rest asked for brighter flames, for their torches were all a sad shade of red.
Ava had broken her arm, and Sygmand helped her through. He leapt down to the rescue and fixed her right up. An apology to which she accepted with no word of forgiveness. It was an easy thing bringing elbows back to their proper positions, he had done it a hundred times just this past Yule alone. What was not easy however was just how wet she was. She had this moistness on her that wasn’t there before in the open storm of above, which meant that it must have come from this tower.
And soon enough he saw the cause of it all. A thick mass of fungal mold, frost-clear as the winter waters or was this the ‘waters’ they all saw? The air above it, just below the knee, was moist too. Too moist. Whether which one caused the moisture, Sygmand could not ascertain.
It smelt like the pits of arms though. As if the mycelium was draining the air off of Heat, and Sygmand felt it.
She was groaning strange too, like a horse on a seizure, yet she was almost all but limp. Her jaws erratic as if trying to bite him, but he kept her from doing so well enough. She still kept on groaning though, she must have hit her head. Sygmand apologized as he did not have any remedies for such things.
Regardless, Ava’s all fine now. He’d given a cast and such after all. “I may not have studied medicine, but at least I was not kicked off from the greatest Plague Doctors ever, don’t you think?” Kallik scuffed at that as he when on exploring. Such gore were much a common in their time up the True North, and so no eyes were batted at Ava in dismay. Sygmand helped Ava up now, to which she replied by silence. Dead silence.
Her eyes were blank and dull, not so much stupid and more so just... dead. But she was not dead, she just walked away fine. Though she doesn’t seem to notice or care about the rest of them as she wondered off. ‘She just needs to breathe’ Sygmand told himself. Yet promptly so she came back for his blue as well! She had this odd glow on her eyes as she gazed his light, as if lusting the warm. It was strange, but if she can find comfort Sygmand may as well lend her torch his magic.
Then she just left.
It was an eerie place, this room. The floor had this mushy texture to it. And when they walked, it squeaked like stomped slime.
“By the Gods...” Sygmand squatted and lead the flames in his snapped hand closer to the floor and it’s, uh, contents...
The air this close down was even moistier than before, and far, far warmer too. There was this mold too, the same one Ava landed on, yet now he saw it’s full extent, or at least he hoped. He thought that it was just some clump on the corner of a wall, but now it became clear that it stretched out across whole floor. And they all stood on it. It felt no thicker than his legs, and Sygmand wanted to kill it. Márgu stopped him however, for if he did burn it, then they’d all burn too.
“Sorry, I uh...”
“Nah it’s alright. It disgusts me too. These weird fleshy things. But best not to harm them just now...”
“You’re a good one, lass.” Sygmand patted her back as Márgu went to Leiv. Always the voice of reason that woman was, and he almost shed a tear for his brother may never tell her his love for her. There was something off however. Her eyes were far less focused, and her accent went slurred. Must just be the warm, wet air Sygmand thousand as he inhaled it deep. Too deep.
“So uh, how do you do that blue fire thing?” Kallik came up to him with a torch lit by Sygmand’s own. He had the same air on him as Márgu. Must have been the wind, he thought.
“I just snap my fingers.” They walked across side to side, searching for what this wretched place is.
“No no, I mean how does it work? The process to which snapping ignites the air. I never figured that part out.”
“You just snap your fingers. It’s fucking magic, it just happens. How do you not now this?!”
“I... I never got that far...”
“You’ve been in that damned chapel longer than I knew what magic even is... Gods!” Sygmand left him for the rest of the party.
The heat was rising now, and thick drops of sweat soaked the whole of him. Each breathe he took became more strained as if he was inhaling water as air.
“So, why did you Two come here again?” Márgu was leaning by a pillar now, and apparently had a new-found knack for asking questions that she should already know.
“Glory. But I suppose that’s off the table now.” Leiv skulked by an odd pedestal that he sat down on.
“Money.” Sygmand joined in.
“What’s money?”
“Don’t you have money in Sápmi?”
“What’s Sápmi?” Sygmand and Leiv stared at each other. Both of them having this confused look on them. ‘How in all the Hells, in all the faiths did this woman forgot her own fucking people?’ was all that went on Sygmand’s head. Yet apparently sticking a blue-fired torch up her face was the only the only thing that came up his Lord Baron’s thick skull.
“What are you doing?!” Sygmand slapped the torch off Leiv’s hands. His face when red with rage as he readied for murder. Yet...
“Money Sápmi?” Sápmi Money?” Márgu’s face was all but fine, as if his flames were nothing but a feather for tickling. She did however had the mold on her now. As if the flames had bloomed then all, and we’re now her swallowing her whole.
“What the fuck...” Sygmand almost fell to his back down the floor, but then a blast came to the right of them.
White as snow, dead as the cold, yet warmer than all the stars in shaded sky. A pillar of fire that both blinded them, and made them see the truth to it all. It rose higher than all the towers in the world, all spewing from the snap of a needle-fingered hand.
“I see now. Just snap your fingers! Magic out of nowhere, eh?!” Kallik was being consumed by the fire, and the great Mycelium hell that made it be. And from it’s brilliance, Sygmand fell silent. It’s light shined across the whole of the halls, and it’s heat peeled his skin in an agonizing pace.
Bjorn and Ava were there too. Much like Márgu they’ve fallen.
He could see it all now, all the halls covered floor to wall. This was a ship. One older the first bread ever baked. And it’s pilot laid behind Kallik, for what they thought was the floor was merely the desk of this giant.
A skull as tall as men. Nine eyes, Six arms, and alien in shape. And it’s whole was consumed and replaced by the spores of a God long, long ago. It was dead, far more so than all the fallen empires that had ever been combined. Yet it looked at him, with it’s empty sockets. Laughing yet unmoving.
And he felt his heat escape him. This was no wound from the cosmos, but instead a knife through his back.
It was his Lord Baron. Or at least what used to be his Lord Baron. Now it’s face was just half man, and half shroom. “Kill me...” it said, to which his first gave way to a blast of peace and salvation.
So strong his fire, so fine his craft, so deep his will, and so high his rage that all that was came to be blue. He burnt his friends, he burnt the spores, he burnt halls, he burnt the ship, he burnt it all till nothing was left but dust, and rumble, and his sizzled corpse.
Or at least he hoped, but he was still alive and coughing. Yet instead of blood he coughed spores.
His eyes felt blocked, as if the fungus was amongst him now. But eventually he opened them well and true. And what he saw was beautiful. The storm’s all but settled now, and so did the fog. And what was once a flat hell of snow filled with disgusting sleds and animals, were now a magnificent forest under the foot of a ship mountains tall.
These trees too, they were like Him. And he felt them all as his own. Tall spires of clear-blue holiness, decorated with bulbs for branches. The perfect Lifeform stretching thousands yonder, and soon it shall be millions and so on.
He could see the sky now too, where the great God Sol shining bright between this ring of a world. Where the East stretches far and high, as Japan leads to a pacified ocean, and then Mars till it fades too far to see.
And the West, oh the West! Oh how He could see the New World, with all those pristine, untouched empires in all their succulent glory. And even Wester still, was the Easternmost of Venus. The Westernmost of which He still recalls clear and grand. Back in the days when this world knew the power the Sun Ten Thousandfold. They made this Ring uncircumnavigable, how cute.
Sygmand Ågren, how his world had changed for the better. He could feel his new Lord craving! Hungering! He could hear his call to consume.
The Old World and the New. Mars, Venus, Vulcan, Jupiter, all of it. He wants it all. He wants to touch them all. He wants to have them all. He wants to consume them all.
submitted by The_Human_Empire to fantasywriters [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 ryanvenema New to fanatic questions.

I just got a CSL elite with CSL elite two petal setup. My first question is, is the load cell brake something you can buy separate and add on to the pedal I have? Second, do I have to buy fanatec shifter? Or will other brands plug in and work with it?
I will be playing on a ps5 Thank you!
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2022.01.20 11:58 Accomplished_Egg_568 Parenting yuri?

Does anyone know of a whilesome shoujo ai story where a lot of focus is between daughter and parent? (Single parenting would be the cherry on top).
And I dont mean any incest! Absolutely none of that nasty please! Just nice ole fluff with a doting parent.
Manga/manhwa both work equally well for me. Dontread LNs tho
submitted by Accomplished_Egg_568 to shoujoai [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 Hands0L0 APP Live?

Where is the APP streamed live, if at all?
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2022.01.20 11:58 toptoyouyoutube Cowboys' Dak Prescott apologizes after condoning fan behavior | FOX Sports

Cowboys' Dak Prescott apologizes after condoning fan behavior | FOX Sports submitted by toptoyouyoutube to healthnow [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 DickLover3078 i drew surtr

i drew surtr submitted by DickLover3078 to arknights [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 SafeMoonXPost DIAMOND 🍆 [X-post from /r/SafeMoon]

DIAMOND 🍆 [X-post from /SafeMoon] submitted by SafeMoonXPost to SafeMoonELITE [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 patreoncomDnDavid Hermit's Hut [40x30]

Hermit's Hut [40x30] submitted by patreoncomDnDavid to inkarnate [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 BuySharesAndHOLD American Crashline

Bs scam stock Back to square one zero progress
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2022.01.20 11:58 Boug9 Fence gate without a fence

Fence gate without a fence submitted by Boug9 to CrappyDesign [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 shadowish49 CS waitlist

guys not to add to the wailist questions BUTT if i am 39 on waitlist for computer vision and 70 for machine learning am i likely to get them?? im panicking lol
submitted by shadowish49 to Cornell [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 toptoyouyoutube Local hospitals declare 'internal disaster' amid surging COVID-19 cases | FOX 5 San Diego

Local hospitals declare 'internal disaster' amid surging COVID-19 cases | FOX 5 San Diego submitted by toptoyouyoutube to healthnow [link] [comments]


2022.01.20 11:58 gssudon WCGW When you start fighting your police colleagues

WCGW When you start fighting your police colleagues submitted by gssudon to GreySpotSyndicate [link] [comments]


http://mkfitness.ru