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You can control it, just like its magical fist. And there are no addresses here, lol. They're almost illiterate.
Added 3 minutes later AstralLein
Phew, it's not a void. One less problem.
– What an aggressive understanding of fun we have... – Ottar remarked. – Okay, I'll go home, I'll be back in a couple of hours. Time is short. It's better to come a little earlier than when it's too late.
The Bloodsucker goes to visit the old man Augur.
-- Don't fall asleep on the way, -- Gus grumbles after him.
The medicine hasn't fully taken effect yet, but Ottar managed to make it home. -- If he came back beaten up the day before yesterday, then today he's practically a corpse, -- Augur is in his element. -- I'll put the kettle on.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza, e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
Since the Knight received damage everywhere today, his mind was unable to endlessly dwell on dreary thoughts. With an empty head and a pleasant ache in his body, Cassius will go to rest before tomorrow's battles.
I can wait until everyone is ready for the day of battles; I'm not in a hurry.
If anything, Cassius currently has about 15 hours; you can pick up the armor and do something else.
Added 31 seconds ago They don't consume time.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza, e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
-- Greetings, -- the most spacious spot is found next to a shaggy Northman, adorned with strange amulets. Without batting an eye, he extends his hand to each of the four. -- Thorstein Ragnarsson is my name.
—Hargen from Legran. —he says, making his way through the crowds of people. —Quite a crowd. Are you here for the festival too?
For the next month, you will not leave this city except by my order or that of Marshal Geoffroy. On the first day of April, you will depart with him on a long journey — and if you have any objections, first consider that you owe this man your un-life. Consider also that justice will not be on your side if your origins are revealed. With that, I shall leave you. The Regent, the confessor, and the sorcerer leave Tifa alone with their guarantor.
In short, from now on you "serve" "that guy over there" for free. As long as he's here — you're here. When he goes somewhere — you go with him. And if you start throwing your weight around, we'll hand you over to the "holy inquisition". Got it, you piece of who-knows-what?🤣
Ничто не возникает из ничего и ничто не пропадает бесследно. Если где-то чего-то убудет, то в другом месте добавится. (Закон сохранения).
- "Tribe of Abomination" – that sounds powerful. Like the screech of nails on a chalkboard, or the sound of breaking glass. I think I'll use that as the title for one of my songs," Tifa says, listening to the sound of receding footsteps, and doesn't move an inch in her seated position. - "Aren't you at all afraid to be in my company, your Lordship? What if I eat you? Or what other assumptions might your Sir Fulrad have?"
-- There are so many terrible things and creatures in the world that if you're afraid of everything, it's better to wall yourself up or not be born at all. Sir Fulrad is a man of ideas. And I am more of a pragmatist. And since no crimes have been committed by you, and there's no talk of you being able to defeat even one of us – I decided that you will still be useful to us while alive.
Added 4 minutes later Author
"Hmm..." - Voldemar tries to figure out what exactly is "between the slums and the artisans"... At the same time, he checks if his companions have finished their beer...
- So, where are you going? "Somewhere" – is that like "wherever your eyes lead you" or "where your intuition tells you"? - Voldemar smirked. - Usually, when you're invited somewhere, they give you a more specific location...
Between the slums and the artisans are the homes of poorer working people. The beer is finished. Voldemar regains 1 sanity point, but this time he doesn't get an additional effect... -- Well, I guess... He'll probably meet me, show me around. If he doesn't forget. -- Listen, why don't we walk you there? Otherwise, they'll forget about you and you'll freeze on the street again. -- I don't know...
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza, e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
Between the slums and the artisans' workshops are the homes of poorer workers. The beer has run out. Voldemar restores 1 sanity, but this time he doesn't get an additional effect... -- Well, like... He'll probably meet me, show me the way. If he doesn't forget. -- Listen, why don't we walk you? Otherwise, they'll forget about you, and you'll freeze on the street again. -- I don't know...
- Arno is right... We saw one like that this morning... Nothing can help him anymore... - Hold on, let's talk it over...
Voldemar signals to Arno that they need to "have a heart-to-heart" in private...
Ничто не возникает из ничего и ничто не пропадает бесследно. Если где-то чего-то убудет, то в другом месте добавится. (Закон сохранения).
—Hargen from Legran. —he says, making his way through the crowds of people. —Greetings, friend. Are you here for the festival too?
Sigebyr also shakes the Northerner’s hand. For a few seconds, the bald and shaggy man silently compete in a test of strength, and when Sigebyr’s victory becomes clear, they clink mugs and drink to mutual respect. —Yes, I’m a merchant, —the Northerner replies. —Come visit our shop, warrior. And the beer isn’t bad… though it can’t compare to ours.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza, e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
Indeed. He might end up dead tonight. It's been an interesting week... and it's only halfway through...
– It's a tough life for a healer, – Ottar joked, sprawling on the nearest comfortable piece of furniture. – I thought healers heal, but it turns out there are battles there that are even fiercer than those of brave warriors. My master and I risk our lives for the well-being of this city. It's strange. Well, such is the world... and such are the healers!
I wonder what she is doing... She must have a name, a history, some kind of life... And clearly a more impressive one than his miserable existence.
Sigebyr also shakes the northerner's hand. For a few seconds, the bald and shaggy man silently competes in a test of strength, and when Sigebyr's victory becomes obvious, they clink mugs and drink to mutual respect.
-- Yes, I am a merchant, -- replies the northerner. -- Come visit our shop, warrior. And the beer isn't bad... although it can't compare to ours.
—And I will. Although I may not be rich, I'll at least take a look at the northern goods. —the drink is also consumed. —And are your amulets... also for sale, or just for good luck?
- This is very rational on the part of the nobility... You previously asked what it means not to be human. This question stems from what it means to be human, and it has worried people throughout the ages, so I have studied it, and I have collected quite a lot of material. For now, this concept seems vague to me. Once, I met a hermit living in a dugout. He was delirious and mistook me for a ghost. And he remembered his past, where he was a skilled orator, a philosopher, and he expressed something along those lines. He said that it is possible to deconstruct it to its most basic components, if one only wants to. Is a person a person if they are of sound mind? If so, then we will exclude the insane, the seriously ill, the sleeping, or the newborn. The hermit recalled a case - it is difficult to say whether it was invented or real - about how he had to sit in confinement, in a closed space with another prisoner, and that one behaved very strangely and inappropriately, irritating him in every way. "After some time, I already felt like I was no longer a human, damn it, but a ferocious beast, and I wanted to kill him or bury him," he said. He also raised the question of ethics: is a person a person if they live in a hostile tribe or kingdom, do not observe your laws or faith, commit atrocities against you? Is a cruel bandit a person? Many would not call him that, especially the loved ones of those he killed. A tyrant in power will not call his slave or subject, whom he exploits mercilessly, a person, and that one will not consider his suzerain to be one either. Therefore, humanity seems to be overrated. It sounds like something that a "creature" might answer, doesn't it? - her lips curved slightly into a thin, indifferent smile.
- All of his logic can be easily refuted by something very simple and straightforward, for example: "a person is a person, it's obvious." But if such an answer satisfied everyone, would these restless minds ask themselves these questions? - her eyes notice a tiny wrinkle on her clothes, and her hands smooth it out with mechanical precision. - I have no need to fill my stomach with bread or dull my consciousness - is that what it's called? - with beer, emptiness has saved me from the endless running in a wheel. Perhaps some of her adepts would like the idea that I am her eyes, to witness the brief moment of existence of those who were unlucky enough to be born with an awareness of the horror of their inevitable departure to it. I don't know, and it doesn't matter to me. Perhaps your sorcerer was able to find out something meaningful.
Her leg smoothly moves from one to the other: - Where will we go next - to a new war? I know that many peoples like to warm their blood and replenish their supplies at the expense of others, after long winters.
- Arnor is right... We saw one of those this morning... There's nothing that can help him now... - Hold on, let's talk it over...
Voldemar signals to Arnor that they should "have a heart-to-heart" in private...
-- We're going for a beer, -- Arnor gets up from the table and moves closer to the bar to chat.
Added 5 minutes ago AstralLein
Indeed. He might be dead by tonight. It's been an interesting week... And it's only halfway through...
- It's a tough life for a healer, -- Ottar joked and sprawled on the nearest soft furniture. -- I thought healers healed, but in reality, they face battles even fiercer than those of brave warriors. My master and I risk our lives for the well-being of this city. It's strange. Well, different worlds, different healers!
I wonder what she does... She must have a name, a history, some kind of life... And clearly a more impressive one than his miserable existence.
-- We should be glad, not complain, -- Augur pours hot water. -- Most people, whether alive or dead, are of no use.
Added 2 minutes ago Heroist
- I'll stop by. I may not be rich, but I'll take a look at the northern goods. - The drink is also served. - And the amulets... are they for sale, or just for good luck?
-- They all bring good luck, but I'm not willing to part with some of them, and I can sell others.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza, e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
-- We're going for a beer, -- Arno gets up from the table and walks over to chat closer to the bar.
Whispering: - So, what's the conclusion? These "good people" are clearly looking for guys like him – "down on their luck." No, I think any "client" would do for their "rituals" or whatever they do... But it's easier to "process" guys like this. Look at him... He's already "ready for consumption"... He'll come, they'll put some crap in his beer, and that's it... he's a "vegetable"... - What do we do? Sending him alone is like sending him into the Void. Or whatever he believes in... Go with him? The two of us? I don't know... If something happens, we can try to make a run for it; we have smoke bombs. The Burgomaster advised us not to go into the lair alone. But on the other hand, this doesn't even seem like a lair... - What do you say? I'm not against "escorting" him. In fact, I'm more for it than against it. But... if we go, what's our plan if "something happens"?
Ничто не возникает из ничего и ничто не пропадает бесследно. Если где-то чего-то убудет, то в другом месте добавится. (Закон сохранения).
-- They all bring good luck, but I'm not willing to part with some of them, and I might sell others.
—One could assume that the ones he doesn't want to part with have the most valuable effect... And what about the others – for how much? It's not that Hargen is interested... but he's not uninterested either.
Граф Орлов
Небо
