#Excavator finance

[heartyearning]

for some reason you have to be 23 to get a tooth implant so i NEEEEEEEEDDDD this one tooth to hold out for a year and a month. but on the other hand i kinda want it out of my mouth. but am i brave enough (hashtag girl) to live with a very visibly missing tooth. is the question.

[trustcapital01]

Monthly Payments for Excavator Financing

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[blueiskewl]

A Major Tomb With Gold and Ceramic Artifacts Discovered in Panama

In an archaeological find in the El Caño Archaeological Park, located in the district of Natá, province of Coclé, in Panama, a tomb has been discovered that sheds light on the sophisticated Coclé society of pre-Hispanic times.

The tomb thought to belong to a Coclé lord and dating back to 750 CE, was found to contain a wealth of funerary offerings, including ceramic and gold artifacts.

The El Caño Archaeological Park is well-known for its necropolis of tombs and stone monoliths that date back to 700–1000 CE. American explorer Hyatt Verrill first realized the importance of the site in 1925 when he discovered ancient monoliths beside the Rio Grande River.

Linette Montenegro, National Heritage Director of the Ministry of Culture (MiCultura), explained that this discovery is part of the ongoing archeological project in the park.

The project, started in 2022 and financed through a cooperation agreement between the Ministry of Culture and the El Caño Foundation, aims to thoroughly explore Tomb No. 9 during the 2021-2024 campaigns.

The tomb’s contents, consisting of 5 pectorals, 2 belts of gold beads, 4 bracelets, 2 earrings in the shape of human figures, an earring in the shape of a double crocodile, 1 necklace of circular beads, two bells, bracelets, and a skirt made with dog teeth, and a set of bone flutes, is testimony to the cultural and social wealth of the Coclé society.

Dr. Julia Mayo, director of the El Caño Foundation and leader of the archaeological project since its inception in 2008, highlighted the importance of this discovery.

The collection, which probably belonged to a high-status adult male, represents a window into life and death in the Rio Grande chiefdom. The tomb, built around 750 A.D., is especially intriguing due to the presence of sacrificial attendants buried alongside the lord, indicating multiple and simultaneous burial practices.

Dr. Mayo noted that the excavation process is ongoing, making it difficult to determine the exact number of individuals buried within the tomb. She said that this type of burial, known for burying a variable number of people in the same tomb, provides valuable information about the beliefs and funerary rituals of the Cocle society.

Dr. Mayo explained that the Coclé lord was buried in a face-down position, a customary practice in this culture, often atop the remains of a woman.

El Caño Archaeological Park, built around 700 A.D. and abandoned around 1000 A.D., has yielded significant archaeological discoveries. In addition to the known monoliths, the site includes a cemetery and a ceremonial area with wooden structures. This discovery stands out for its uniqueness and the insight it provides into Cocle society’s funerary practices.

By Oguz Buyukyildirim.

[nikkeisimmer]

Sunset Valley - End of Days

Chapter One - "Laissez-Faire" (Part IV)

River’s Journal - June 25 -July 1st, 1989

Thank the Watcher, the bunker was done in record time. It appeared that one day we had a big vacant empty lot, the next a large bunker was taking shape and it would ultimately keep us safe since the excavation of the bunker had lowered the surface of our lot deep into the ground which a wall and a concrete ceiling reinforced with steel rebar of multiple layers. This meant that radiation wouldn’t get in to flood the main surface area with contamination.

The floor of our surface had been sunk thirty feet with brick and concrete forming the walls that surrounded us. From there the ground surface would allow us to plant our harvestables. Our fish on the other hand would be subject to living their lives in a large pool of water that would be our breeding ground for aquaculture. At least that would make sure that we had a good variety of foodstuffs to keep us all fed.

We also managed to get two sets of dairy cows and four hen-houses into the space that was required. Plus we had additional space if necessary to move the cows to if they bred – we’re still trying to figure out how to breed the cows without the intervention of a bull. Because if there is one, it certainly isn’t apparent to us where exactly it is. Hopefully we’ll be able to snag a bull before we close up...and seal ourselves in to wait out the radiation. Or we may just have to genetically engineer cows and chickens to replenish our feed-stocks.

Our garden got a boost with donations of plant-stock in order to save them from extinction. So we have a lot of things that we have to do in order to make certain that these plant species survive. And with the conjuring cauldron and being able to conjure up necessary items to plant, with some luck, hopefully we should be able to make certain that these plants will become hardy enough to survive once we return to the surface.

Meanwhile, up topside, while we were digging in to the bunker, the rest of Sunset Valley went along in what appeared to us to be ignorant bliss or just trying to not think about the impending heating up of the war in Europe. Everyone else in town appeared to go about their daily business as if the war did not exist across the Atlantic. The news however discussed China making preparations for war against the Soviet Union if the Soviets were going to kick-off against the West. China, as insular and Marxist as they were, didn’t want any part of a war against the West, but if they were about to get annihilated, their viewpoint was in the interests of either sitting and standing idle while nuclear weapons were lobbed in their direction, or take out their enemies both the Soviets and the West, then they would launch in a last-ditch effort to remove both threats and go down fighting.

Day after sunny day passed as we worked down in the bowels of the bunker. Clarissa chose to learn alchemy, while Masaharu worked on potions and Bebe although she was a technophobe decided to work on her science skills. That was rather astounding to say in the least since the science station was highly technical and technology-related.

Phil on the other hand decided to tackle robotics which he had heretofore shown no interest in technology related matters. Yet he took to it like a fish to water. And was making nanites and trait chips like nobody’s business.

Bebe was learning science at the science station, irradiating bugs and making other scientific discoveries which surprisingly didn’t leave her too stressed with learning something that she was previously scared of. But at least it certainly helped matters as finances would be necessary in order to subsist in the post-apocalyptic society that we would be facing. And Bebe, bless her for overcoming any discomfort that she had in using that machine, stuck to it and learned as much as she could to the point where she could clone objects from samples. She was a trooper for doing that.

Masaharu kept at it producing one potion after another without failure. He decided to make multiple sleep potions to help us all maximize our waking hours. He also ended up trying his hand at conjuring like my boyfriend did, but he realized too late that the floor was as hard as it appeared. It was surprising with how hard he’d hit the floor that he’d escaped giving himself a solid concussion.

We used our body-clocks to determine what the time was. We didn’t have the benefit of seeing the sky outside. For all we knew it could be daylight out, but we went to sleep when our bodies were tired and got up when they weren’t. It appeared that we’d all paired off unofficially. Of course, I had no eyes for anyone else other than Haruo and he was the same towards me as a mate, so we both slept in the same bed.

Bebe and Masaharu paired off too and slept together.

And well, I don’t know what Clarissa sees in Phil, but the two of them were together as well. Phil, of course, being our robotics expert as well as our chef was someone one doesn’t insult. When he can make things that are supposed to defend our bunker as well as cook our food, we make absolutely certain that we are on his good side. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

Phil had made us all some breakfast calzones. And we ate those. And they were delicious. And in fact, Phil had done quite a bit of research, a first for him, since he when we were in school, was not one for studying. But knowing that we faced at minimum a month to six months in the bunker depending on how severe the nuclear fallout was, whenever the conflict happened, we needed to make sure that we had sources of, as he said, “We need Vitamin D...if we don’t want to end up with a raging case of scurvy.” Someone was listening during history class. It wasn’t too long after that Phil made a breakthrough and constructed our first plumbot. Phil called him F3L-1X or Felix for short. He was our stocky heavy duty plumbot that would be part body-guard, part conjurer. The main reason behind this was that Phil suspected, as was soon borne out, that Felix would be incapable of wearing himself out while conjuring, unlike my boyfriend, who would practically pass out, risking severe concussion, after five conjurings. Felix could, without fail, conjure repeatedly for as long as his battery held out which was only consumed by regular activity during the course of the day. The conjuring cauldron had no effect on him. So he would be the one providing gemstones from now on and he would be the one going outside the bunker to be selling said gemstones.

We’d had multiple discussions on what we could do to ensure that supply lines were still available after everything went to hell in a handbasket. Haruo’s solution was to bring the storekeepers into our bunker and have them keep the supply lines running. We needed a consignment person to take our gemstones; a storekeeper to sell our harvestable wares to as well as a bookseller. We would also conspire to bring in a relics salesperson who could provide us with the international relics that we could utilize as bargaining chips when we met up with other survivors. There were a lot of things to take into consideration as we prepared for the unthinkable.

At the start, Felix would use either my bike or my boyfriend’s however we decided that it would be best if we got him his own and we splurged a bit on that because we got him a hoverbike that he could ride. It was much faster than our two-wheeled form of locomotion.

“We need to make sure that we have a means of transferring our gemstones into money…” my boyfriend stated to Bebe who was chowing down on her breakfast calzone around mid-afternoon. “Even if we don’t have a functioning world any more, we still need a system of barter to be able to trade between groups of survivors. Even if we have no use for gemstones, others may find it useful as a form of currency and we can get the necessary supplies we need.” “I suppose so. And as long as I can clone the gemstones that you conjure, I’ll be able to make sure that we have that ready currency to be able to barter.” was Bebe’s ready response to Haruo’s concerns.

I retreated to Haruo’s and my bedroom to paint while Bebe went directly to the science station to irradiate a ladybug.

Haruo went downstairs to go milk the cows and collect the eggs.

From some of the exterior camera shots to keep the security of the bunker, we could note that there was one heck of an electrical storm going on outside. In the news evidently a woman had gotten hit by lightning. Evidently she was Pauline Wan. I didn’t know her personally, but I knew her by her reputation.

Next morning, Haruo went out to do some hunting and I set out to sell some of my paintings. My first sale was to my old room-mate when I was living with my mother. Evidently she and her daughter are doing well. Molly was now with Leighton Sekemoto and they evidently were happy together because evidently, Molly was in the family way.

After spending some time with her and with my mother just chatting, I headed back up to the bunker as the sun was aiming to set.

It felt good to be home and be with my boyfriend.

[mings]

We've seen far more water on our land this past two years. Despite efforts and considerable expense, we've been unable to beat it. Now we know why.

This is a screenshot of the latest Google Earth image taken in July. Our so considerate neighbour, who (you may recall) chose to build a cabin between us & the forest, has deviated significantly from the approved plans.

Far from a small settlement pond, lined with an impermeable membrane, that should be connected to an existing drainage ditch, she's created a 300m2 lake containing a conservatively estimated 250,000 litres of water. There's no evidence of a membrane, and it's held back by a bund that was thrown up by dumping soil from the excavation on the downhill side.

That means the water, which includes allegedly treated grey water from her site, is percolating through the soil into the ground water course that runs directly down to us.

Our home is built on a site that was dug into the terrain, so we're surrounded by an embankment that's now beginning to slump. We're in the process of constructing new poultry pens on the highest part of our ground because their existing location is now underwater when it rains.

Not only that, but our drainage contractor discovered the source of the water that was washing out our drive. You guessed it. She had a field drain installed to drain the site before her build started. That pumps out water directly to another groundwater course that empties onto our land by the main gate. No wonder we had 6" thick ice there last winter.

Whilst I'm all in favour of sustainable farming, I won't support her activities when they render our land effectively unusable.

There's no relationship to damage after we had the audacity to object to her plans. She just submitted them to the authority without discussing them or giving us a chance to have any input. She even twisted the narrative to portray herself as the victim and posted that all over social media. Now she's moved in, we find her presence more & more intrusive. She runs farm tours right along our boundary several times a week. We've found our access track blocked by a coach whose surly driver almost came to blows with my son.

So now this goes back to the authorities with a detailed summary of how it doesn't comply with the approved plans, of the damage she's doing to our property, and to our mental and financial health. I don't care how much it costs to put right, nor whether it means she has to raise finance to do it. She either fixes it, or I'll sue her into the ground even if it means remortgaging to do it.

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 13

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, eventual smut

Chapter Summary: The Council visits the disaster site at Rynweaver's mine. Katya gets some new housewares. Young Viktor has an impromptu lunch with Councilor Bone.

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 3.3K

When Bone left Council chambers on Friday, the following week’s docket had been rather empty. He knew Rynweaver was attempting to rally a few other of the Academy’s lottery donors for an assembly, but that meeting had not been scheduled by the time he crossed the Bridge back to the Promenade that evening.

Bone was looking forward to an easeful weekend and a gentle start to the coming week.

Then there was an attempted robbery at Piltover’s Southside docks early in the morning on Saturday.

Then Rynweaver’s mine suffered a catastrophic cave-in and landslide in the wee hours of Monday morning, upsetting the very particular and precarious schedule and balance of Piltover’s economy.

Of course, there were also several injuries and casualties caused by the disaster. But that was secondary to Piltover’s bottom line.

So, by the time Bone had entered his office in the Council Tower mid-morning on Monday, his desk was already flooded with letters and memos about the Council’s suddenly full week of assemblies and meetings.

Sheriff LeDaird visited his office Monday afternoon to discuss the robbery at the docks. Bone was not surprised that the Sheriff was saddling the Undercity with the blame, but he did his best to remain diplomatic and helpful as he was peppered with questions about his constituents.

Captain Grayson had accompanied him into Bone’s office and sat dutifully silent next to her superior. When LeDaird was done, she asked the Councilman a few thoughtfully worded questions. He was privately pleased at her sensitivity and finesse. So much so that he made a mental note to privately confer with her about the concerning statistics of reported law enforcement abuse in the Undercity.

Tuesday, he, and the other Council members journeyed to the accident site at Rynweaver’s mine. Bone had mixed feelings about himself and his peers being guided through the active scene. He always felt a belonging swell of comradery being amongst the hard workers of the Undercity. How his heart thumped with pride at seeing their resilient spirits. How it ached with regret that his own body was now too frail to physically help them in this time of need. Having been a miner present for quite a few cave-ins, wayward explosions, and landslides, he was well aware of the grumbling that took place when Council made their mandatory visit to survey the damage and pay their respects. Having politicians onsite always slowed the rescue and clean-up efforts, and all Trenchers knew that whatever Piltover did on their behalf was primarily for optics.

Bone, his Council peers, and Rynweaver were led to an overlook that surveyed the destruction from on high. A grizzled foreman, who was as wide as he was tall (which was not very) explained to his captive audience how much of the mine had been damaged, what equipment had been lost, and what areas they had managed to excavate in the last twenty-four hours. Rynweaver broke in every now and again to add commentary pertaining to the mine’s finances, and what measures were being taken to safeguard Piltover’s economy. He succinctly reported how much coin was being allotted to support the ongoing rescue and reconstruction efforts. The newest Councilor, young Silas Hoskel, nodded his head enthusiastically. His brown eyes glimmering and over-waxed goatee quivering with excitement as Rynweaver listed numbers and statistics.

“What of the employees?” Bone interjected. He had waited patiently to see if Rynweaver or the foreman would bring up the topic of casualties and survivors on their own. They hadn’t.

The foreman, Janna bless him, did his best not to do a double-take at the Councilor before hurriedly scanning the papers on his clipboard. Rynweaver’s expression remained pointy and hatefully neutral.

“The coordinators I’ve brought in for triage will have that information for you.”

“How many employees from Saint Janna’s Sanitarium did you have to contract out?” Heimerdinger asked.

“A small team of ten nurses and five physicians.”

Bone knew the answer, but asked anyway, “How large is the mine’s medical staff otherwise?”

Rynweaver’s eyebrows angled downward, his jaw shifting under the weight of his annoyance. “There are two personnel in the medical clinic.”

“Two medics? For a mine that employs . . . how many did you say earlier?” Bone asked, turning to the flustered foreman.

“Er – three hundred n’ fifty.”

“Only two-thirds of that work in the mines,” Rynweaver interjected quickly and acidly. “The rest work in our offices in Piltover.”

“So, two medical staff for just over two-hundred miners?” Bone questioned, tapping his cane pointedly on the grated metal of the balcony.

“Outside of emergencies such as this, it serves operations well,” Rynweaver said.

“Shall we visit the triage?” clanged Councilor Bolbok, before the Undercity Councilor could inquire further.

“I believe we shall,” Heimerdinger chimed. “It should help boost the workers’ morale to be seen by their Council.”

Bone felt he couldn’t argue with the six bobbling heads.

The triage space was packed and busy. Beds were full, reserved for those who had lost limbs or consciousness. Miners who were injured, but whole and awake, were strewn about the aisles and propped up against walls. The Councilors dispersed, carefully weaving among the beds and bodies, approaching those who seemed open to receiving their empty condolences and well-wishes.

Bone sat with and held the bandaged hand of a man whose son had not yet been found. He listened and comforted. When the miner’s head fell into his free hand, dry sobs bursting through his throat, the aged Councilor spared a glance around the make-shift clinic. Doctors and nurses from Piltover were easy to spot in their pristine and crisp white smocks, their faces stiff and cold as the rock quarried from Rynweaver’s mine.

Across the way, he watched a young woman with gold eyes, chestnut hair, and a determined face deftly switch out a patient’s IV port and fluid bag. They scrabbled for her wrist before she could walk away, and she knelt at their bedside. Her hard expression shifted into feather-down softness as she whispered comforting things to them.

The moment was short-lived as a Piltover physician swooped in and batted the young medic out of the way. He checked her work, deemed it passable, and then ordered her to gather full bedpans. Bone watched Viktor’s sister swallow her rage, her pale skin flushing the color of a vine ripened tomato. Her cheeks hollowed as her teeth ground together and she stalked away, ignoring Heimerdinger’s greeting as she passed.

He didn’t know if she actually didn’t see the short Councilor through the tunnel-vision of her ire, or if she purposedly ignored him. Either way, Bone couldn’t help but feel a little smug as the Yordle feigned coolness in the wake of being disregarded.

Katya had taken Enyd’s suggestion and went to Benzo’s Treasure Trove Tuesday evening after work, bag of trinkets in hand. It had been a long time since she visited any sort of pawn shop; the last time being when she had to sell a great many household items and clothing after her father’s murder. The experience and circumstance left her never wanting to venture into such a shop again. That, and she hadn’t had any extra coin to spend anyway.

The bell attached to the door didn’t so much chime; it mutely clanged as she let herself inside. The store was larger than she anticipated, and it would seem Benzo used its over-sized dimensions to his advantage. The walls were covered in all manner of clocks, sconces, and artwork. Tables of all heights and widths dotted the floor, creating a winding path for customers. The tops of the tables could not be seen beneath the armies of knick-knacks, china, silverware, and globes. Larger items – like grandfather clocks, chests, mannequins – were kept propped against the walls. Katya imagined that the fullness of the store was not only a means to look impressive, but also to force customers to take a good look at everything as they scoured high and low; not only purchasing what they came for, but several intriguing impulse buys.

She would not be swayed by such tactics.

“Hi! Katya, right? The nurse?”

Cairn appeared from a door behind the front counter. He smiled broadly, setting his forearms on the countertop, the presence of his body jostling the flame of a candle that was melting over a skull.

“The medic. But, yes, that’s correct,” she answered, sidling around displays.

“How’s ‘Zo doing?”

“I have not seen him since Saturday. I am hoping no news is good news.”

She squeezed and fidgeted with the bag strap across her shoulder. The trinkets inside its belly tinkled against one another.

“I’m sure,” Cairn said warmly. And after a beat asked, “What can I help you with tonight?”

“I would like to pawn the items in this bag, please,” Katya said, lifting her bounty onto the counter.

Cairn opened the bag and began sifting through its contents. Occasionally, he would take a glass ornament out and hold it to the candle light, inspecting.

“You wanna unload everything?”

“Yes, please.”

“Trade?”

“Coin.”

At that he inspected more thoroughly, carefully touching, and eying each piece in the bag. Katya felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle and her gut coiled. Was he going to try and shaft her? Admittedly, she had no clue what Enyd had given her was worth, but the thought of being taken advantage of made her blood simmer. As the young shopkeeper finished scrutinizing the final baubles, her jaw set and she braced for haggling. Cairn stood to his full height and set his strong and elegant hands on either side of the bag between them.

“How’s two-hundred hexes and fifty cogs grab you?”

Katya’s voice caught in her throat and she blinked. Surely, she had heard incorrectly.

“Wha – “

“Fine. Three-hundred hexes and not a washer more,” Cairn countered, grinning.

Again, she was rendered speechless. That was more than a month’s worth of pay from the mines.

“Three – three-hundred – “ Katya snapped her jaw shut and shook her head, disbelieving. “H-how . . . ?”

“Benzo does good business,” Cairn answered with a feline grin, flashing teeth as white as his coiled hair. “And some Piltie dumbass came in day before last. I overcharged him for what he wanted. Didn’t even blink. Sucker.”

Katya left Benzo’s with the heaviest pockets she’d ever had. Before heading home, she stopped by a textile stand in the market and bought herself two new blankets. She hid the remainder of the amount under the sink in her apartment.

Wednesday, Bone’s regularly scheduled lunch with Heimerdinger was cancelled due to the ongoing meetings, business, and damage control the past weekend stirred up. The Undercity Counselor was fine with this development. He had found himself increasingly agitated and painfully aware of his Council peers’ utter lack of understanding and empathy for their underground citizens.

Between meetings and work of his own, he left his office in Council Tower to take a walk about on the nearby Academy campus. The chill and wet that had enveloped both cities in the start of the week had been thoroughly eradicated; having been chased out by the sun and clear skies, and comfortably warm, breezy temperatures. Bone limped along, his cane a harsh, muted tap! against the granite walkways that stitched the Academy buildings together.

As he walked, disdain ran rampant under his skin as students passed. It was uncomfortable. Usually, he was better able to curb reactionary thoughts and emotions. It wasn’t these young peoples’ faults that their ancestors and government had systematically abused over half the citizens of their city-state. However, the Academy students seemed content with remaining willfully ignorant; striding from class to class in their tailored uniforms of expensively spun fabric. Gilded hems and buttons. Books in their arms, but knowing that if their parents paid enough, the Academy would graduate them no matter how abysmal their marks. They were maddeningly privileged, and all too happy to reap those benefits. No matter how it hurt or crushed their poorer brethren.

As he crossly hobbled beneath the shadows of the large, lush trees that peppered the campus, Bone spied the young Undercity boy – Viktor – sitting by himself on a stone bench. His cane was leaned against the carved marble and a crumpled napkin sat at his side; a half-eaten sandwich cradled within. A large textbook lay open, balanced on his knobby knees. He poured over it as if it were the nourishment he needed, and not the food that sat next to him. After a moment, the Councilor staggered over.

“May I sit with you?”

The boy jumped and looked up, his eyes going wider at seeing who was requesting his company. Hurriedly, he scooped up his remaining lunch and shuffled to the side to allow Bone some space. A small smile deepened the lines around the older man’s mouth, and he sat down with a sigh.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, sir,” Viktor murmured, fidgeting with his book and sandwich.

“Here. Let me have the book, so you can finish your lunch.”

The boy awkwardly handed the textbook off and put the napkin on his lap, gently unfurling the edges. He flicked an uncertain look over to Bone before lifting the sandwich up to his mouth. Despite not knowing the boy well, the Councilor felt a warmth only kinship could bring bloom under his skin. It drove the disdain out, and for that he was grateful.

The pair sat in silence for a bit; Viktor timidly munching on his lunch, Bone leafing through the large book now on his lap. It was scientific in subject matter, and the boy had dog-eared several pages that seemed to be about robotics and mechanization. The older man smiled.

“Is this for one of Heimerdinger’s courses?”

Viktor covered his mouth and nodded. Silence fell between them again, and Bone began to skim pages more earnestly. It was mindboggling to him that a child should understand, much less, read the tiny text and rows and rows of numbers. He himself hadn’t fully grasped reading and writing until he was a teenager. In his youth, such a thing was not unusual for the Undercity. Pride in the young Trencher’s abilities spread through his veins like sunshine.

Next to him, Viktor finished his sandwich, crumpling up the napkin and stowing it in his bag.

“I can take the book back, if you’d like, sir.”

Bone handed it back like it was a treasure. Because it was.

“Are you liking what you’re studying under the Dean?” Bone asked.

Viktor paused, surprised, before he answered, “Yes. We will be starting the robotics curriculum soon. I am trying to get a head start.”

The Councilor’s bushy eyebrows quirked. “Ambitious, I see.”

The apples of Viktor’s cheeks grew rosy and ripe.

“I like to build things,” he responded sheepishly.

“What have you built?”

“I – er – made my cane.” His eyes drifted to the creation at his side.

“May I see?” asked the Councilor.

Viktor passed it over and Bone gripped it between his hands, eyes roving over its craftmanship. He hadn’t noticed when they first met, but the cane was indeed pieced together in a sturdy, albeit clumsy, way that looked and felt homemade.

“My papa found the wood that is used as the main structure many years ago, and I used metal scraps I had collected to enforce it. I made the handle, too. And have used metal rods to increase its length as I’ve gotten taller,” the boy explained. Bone noticed his voice growing breathy with tempered excitement as he described his process.

“It’s a fine cane, Viktor,” he congratulated, handing it back.

“I also helped my sister fix our oven a few months ago.”

The older man chuckled. “Judging by your cane, in an innovative way I have no doubt.”

A giggle stifled at the back of Viktor’s throat and he looked at his cane with renewed brightness.

“I believe I saw your sister yesterday,” Bone said when the conversation between them lulled. Big, golden eyes looked up at him. “Regretfully, I did not get the opportunity to officially make her acquaintance. She was rather preoccupied helping the injured miners.”

“She sent me a tube Monday afternoon,” Viktor said. “Telling me what had happened and that she was okay.”

Bone heard the worry behind the statement, and said, “She seemed well. Tired. Maybe a bit perturbed, but well.”

The boy’s young face softened at his words, but too much worry lingered behind his eyes.

Even though Heimerdinger had told him such, Bone asked, “Your sister is your guardian?”

Viktor shifted slightly, hands fidgeting along his cane before answering, “Yes. Our father died a couple of years ago.”

“What of your mother?”

His eyes dropped, shoulders slumping in a heavy shrug.

“You and your sister must be very close then.”

Viktor nodded solemnly. He chewed the inside of his lower lip before quietly confessing, “I wish she did not have to work so hard to keep me here.”

Bone felt his heart and shoulders fall. He placed a comforting hand on the middle of the young one’s back. He felt him relax under the contact.

“She shouldn’t have to,” he agreed. “I have always done my work here with the Undercity in mind. And after touring the mine yesterday, I will be working doubly hard to make sure people like your sister have the resources they need to work and live.”

Viktor peeked a glance up at the older man and nodded minutely. Bone set his jaw and leaned closer to him.

“You deserve to be here, Viktor. And your sister – “

“Katya.”

“And Katya should not have to work so hard to support you. Both things are true.”

The campus’ bell tower tolled the time in deep, resonate chimes, pulling the two out of their conversation.

“I should get going to my next class,” Viktor said, setting his cane’s foot down and making to stand. “Thank you very much for sitting with me, Councilor, sir.”

“You may call me Jarrot, Viktor,” he said warmly, rising himself. “Trenchers don’t stand on ceremony.”

He winked and the boy bashfully grinned.

“I would like to have lunch with you again sometime,” he continued as Viktor slung his satchel over his shoulder. “Do you usually dine here?”

“Unless it is raining or cold. Then I stay in the cafeteria.”

Bone could tell by the tone around the last word that sitting with his peers was not his first choice. He couldn’t blame him.

“Excellent. Then I hope to see you soon. Have a good rest of your day, Viktor.”

“You as well, Coun – Jarrot,” he corrected in an uncomfortable mumble.

He offered the man one last small smile before hobbling off in the direction of his next class. Bone watched him go for a moment, before turning heel and heading back to his office.

When he returned to his chambers in Council Tower, an envelope of luxurious slate paper was waiting for him on his desk. The cardstock was heavy and soft to the touch. Flipping the letter over, he sneered to see the Rynweaver crest embossed onto a thick seal of gold wax. As if receiving any correspondence from the mogul was some sort of award.

Bone settled heavily into his chair, drawing up his letter opener and slicing the parchment and wax with a satisfying flick. The leather of the chair groaned as he leaned against its back, eyes taking in the carefully worded assembly proposal. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Regardless, irate disbelief thrummed through his fragile body. The sheer audacity of this man to propose a meeting with Council about the Academy’s lottery when hundreds of his employees were hurt or dead. The absolute depravity of his priorities was maddening. And what was worse, was that Council would heed his call.

The assembly was scheduled for later that week.

Note: Oooooh, in what way will Rynweaver make himself an insufferable twat this time?? If you enjoyed this chapter, please comment and reblog!

Coming Up next: Katya and Sevika teach the Children some basic first aid. And Enyd starts to suspect that Silco might have feelings for the medic - even if he doesn't realize it. Motherly instinct, ya know??

Next Chapter

Taglist: @dreamyonahill@pinkrose1422@altered-delta

[snowy-weather]

Was just tagged by @apollinariafh for WIP Wednesday. I mean.... Wednesday is technically over here right now, but it's still Wednesday somewhere right? XD

I did just share my current art WIP but no hurt in sharing it again. I'm doing some self-indulgent art of my OC Tyrios. XD (He's from my original story Ace of Swords, for those who don't know.) I love drawing him because he helps me push further with poses and expressions.

I have... also started on a first draft for an Elder Scrolls fanfic. I'll share a small bit. Just keep in mind... I haven't written anything seriously in years and English is not my first language. I'm not very confident in my writing yet. XD

--

"He'd given the relics of Ahzidal to his business partner, the Khajiit named Kiirra. She’d financed the excavation at Kolbjorn barrow and what did she have to show for it? She had to help defeat an ancient dragon priest and cover up the murders he’d committed. The least he could do was give her something in return. He knew she originally wanted to kill him when she and her two companions found him at the bottom of the barrow. The anger and hatred in her eyes back then still gave him chills. She’d already drawn her daggers. It was the Dunmer mage, Mirni, who’d placed herself between Ralis and the angry Khajiit and persuaded her companion to spare his life. Mirni, for whatever reason, seemed to have a soft spot for him. It was flattering, if confusing. She’d talked Kiirra down and she and the dragonborn helped Ralis stand up and dragged him back to Raven Rock."

---

It's just a short snippet but if anyone has pointers feel free to share. Just be gentle with me, haha. XD

Anyway thanks for the tag! ^^

[grahamgodzilla2]

ATTENTION , A PLOT SPOILER FOR SUMERU ❗️

.📌 Source: VNTaleak

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📌 Nahida/Kusanalli

Nahida does not have the heart of God , he was immediately taken away by the Academy at her birth . Also, the sages from the Academy refuse to celebrate the Sabreuz festival - in honor of Nahida's birthday, because they consider her not their archon.

📌Scaramucci/Wanderer

Dottore, Scaramucci, and the Academy are collaborating to create the first artificial Archon. Or rather, to make Scaramucci a new electro Archon, with the help of the electro heart of God. Maybe Dottore has personal goals, since he helps Scaramucci...

📌 Sumeru Academy

List of reasons why the Academy is evil at Dusk

❌️ Does not allow students to progress normally in this or that darshan, they pile up a bunch of uninteresting tasks that are not even on their topic.

❌️In secret from the Archon's Dendro and other people, secret research and excavations are carried out, while literally all the finances of the Academy are spent on this.

❌️Secretly cooperate with Fatui, doing various illegal things.

❌️Literally from birth, they took the dendro heart of god from Nahida (Kusanali), and spread the information that Nahida is not an archon.

❌️They began to cut finances as much as possible for conducting routine research, and for financing training.

❌️They rule everything in the Sumeru as they want, while locking Nahida (Kusanali) in the Temple.

❌️They don't want to celebrate Nahida's birthday at the festival, saying that allegedly Nahida (Kusanali) is unworthy of such attention, much less funding for the festival.

[scotianostra]

The mineralogist and archeologist William Niven was born on October 2nd 1850 in Bellshill, Lanarkshire.

Niven came from a large and close-knit family, his parents were acquainted with the famous missionary and explorer David Livingstone, who regaled the young William with tales of his African adventures, inspiring in him an urge to explore remote and primitive lands. 

When his father was killed in a railroading accident in 1865, Niven dropped out of school and took a succession of clerking jobs to help support his family. In 1870 he took over the management of the Dalmarnock weaving mill in Glasgow, though he was only 19 at the time. Despite his success there, he decided in 1879 that it was time to leave Scotland and travel to America, as his younger brother James had done before him in 1874.

Mineralogist William Niven developed an interest in Mexican archaeology in the 1890s. He excavated numerous sites in the southwestern state of Guerrero before turning his attention to the region around Mexico City. After observing stratified cultural deposits in the clay pits used for making adobe bricks, he began a series of excavations that ultimately yielded thousands of pre-Hispanic artifacts and helped define the region's chronology. Through an arrangement with the Mexican government, certain finds were reserved for the National Museum, while others were sold to finance the excavations. Niven had workers digging at multiple sites, with deposits spanning over 3500 years - but some can be broadly attributed based on comparison to published examples. Niven and his crews found thousands of artefacts, such was the volume of his finds that he was at one point accused of (unknowingly) passing on fakes that had been made by his workers!

As well as archeology Nven was also a mineralogist and noted for his discovery of the minerals yttrialite, thorogummite, nd nivenite (named after him).

Niven was a founding member of the New York Mineralogical Club, an honorary life member of the American Museum of Natural History, a member of the Scientific Society Antonio Alzate in Mexico, and a fellow in the American Geographic Society of New York and the Royal Society of Arts in London. In 1929 he moved to Houston, where he donated a large number of Mexican artifacts to the new Houston Museum and Scientific Society and served on its board of trustees. 

In 1931 he moved to Austin. He died there on June 2, 1937, and was buried in Mount Calvary cemetery.

[blueiskewl]

Archaeologists Discover Electoral Inscriptions in Pompeii

The signs found encourage voting for a certain Aulus Rustius Verus for the post of Aedile, the councilman in charge of public works.

One autumn day in 79 A.D., Vesuvius’s fury stopped the clock in Pompeii and left the ancient Roman city frozen in time forever. Searching through the ashes, archaeologists working on the new batch of excavations have traveled back to the time before the volcano erupted and discovered some election inscriptions that prove that political maneuvering in antiquity was not unlike today; they have also found what was probably the last ritual offering to the gods before the devastating eruption. For researchers, the new discoveries are treasures that help figure out the details of what daily life was like in ancient Rome.

Inside a house, which has only partially been excavated, on the Via di Nola in the central area of ancient Pompeii, several electoral inscriptions — the ancient equivalent of today’s electoral posters and brochures — have appeared on the walls of the room that housed the lararium, the house’s domestic altar.

It was surprising to find these inscriptions inside the house, since they were normally put on the buildings’ exterior facades, where citizens could read the names and good attributes of the candidates for the city’s courts.

Archaeologists explain that the electoral ad was inside the house because it was common practice to organize events and dinners inside the homes of the candidates and their friends to promote their electoral campaigns.

In this case, the signs encourage voting for a certain Aulus Rustius Verus for the post of aedile, a kind of councilor who was responsible for public works in ancient Rome. This figure appears in other inscriptions and is known in Pompeii for having held the city’s highest public office, duoviri — the position to which one acceded after having been an aedile — in the 70s of the first century A.D. In ancient Rome, duoviri were magistrates who were elected in pairs so that they could control and advise each other, as well as supervise the city’s public, political and administrative offices. Aulus Rustius Verus held the position along with Giulio Polybius, who owned a splendid house on the Avenue of Plenty. Consequently, archaeologists deduce that the newly discovered inscriptions are older and that Aulus Rustius Verus probably won the elections mentioned in them.

Apparently, the house belonged to an Aulus Rustius supporter, perhaps one of his freedmen or a friend, and it contains a detail of note for archaeologists: a bakery with a large oven, near which the bodies of three victims, two women and a child, who were killed by the attic’s collapse during the first phase of eruption. The remains were discovered just a few months ago.

According to experts, the bakery’s presence reveals that political patronage — which, like today, consisted of promising favors in exchange for votes — was the order of the day in antiquity.

Maria Chiara Scappaticcio, a professor of Latin at the Federico II University in Naples, Italy, and the co-author of the study in which the new findings appear, explained that councilors and bakers “collaborated to the limits of legality,” and that Aulus Rustius Verus “could have realized very early on, when he was still in the midst of the election campaign to become a councilor, that, above all, the voter lives on bread.”

The discovery of the candidate’s initials, A.R.V., on a volcanic millstone leaning against the house entrance hall, where renovation work was being performed at the time of the eruption, supports that thesis. “Aulus Rustius Verus probably financed the bakery’s activity directly, both for economic and political purposes,” Maria Chiara Scappaticcio noted.

In addition, the remains of a last votive offering were found on the altar of the great lararium, which was decorated with two stucco snakes; the offering was probably made shortly before the eruption. Researchers have analyzed the remnants and discovered that the ritual consisted of offering figs and dates that were burned in front of the altar. To bring the rite to a close, a whole egg was placed directly on the lararium’s masonry altar. The altar was then covered with a tile. The remnants of earlier offerings were also found; they included fruits of the vine, fish and mammal meat.

The director of the Pompeii Archaeological Park, Gabriel Zuchtriegel, emphasized that each new archaeological find is shared practically in real time, through an electronic diary that they publish on the park’s website, as the excavation phase continues. “To my knowledge, we are the world’s first archaeological site to practice this form of scientific transparency: we are convinced that, in this way, Pompeii will be an international model for a new type of data accessibility because of the opportunities that digital technologies offer. The future of archaeology is here,” he said.

By LORENA PACHO.

[onlinewordworld]

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[wirelandranch]

LORE ENTRY 2: The Mojave Logistics Archaeological Survey Team (MLAST)

Built of a group of individuals handpicked by Nathaniel Godwynn, all from scientific, fringe religious, or military background.

**NO COMMUNISTS WERE USED IN THE FORMATION OF THIS TEAM.

Members:

Dr. Rosalind Byne: (age 42) Once a well respected Corporal in the US Army Corp of Engineers before being dishonorably discharged for stealing state secrets. It is commonly believed that Nathaniel Godwynn was her lover in the time period prior to her theft. The documents she is said to have stolen were then, and remain, classified. Interventions were made on her behalf by the Mojave Logistics legal team and her record was wiped clean though she is banned from further participation in the military. Education: PHD in Archaeology from Massachussettes Institute of Technology (MIT) Bachelors in Anthropology (MIT)

Rosy Byne: (age 21) Daughter of Rosalind and youngest member of the team. Known to be brilliant and "an absolute joy to be around," it is often said the team would've fallen into their dark times sooner had she left them to their own devices. Though she had no formal education she proved in the long run to be one of the most valuable members of the team and had a knack for "feeling out an area" and locating harder to reach areas of excavation sites and cave depths. Many a cavern was mapped with her jubilant assistance.

Daniel Rosenthal: (age 44) Transferred directly over from the UKSF as part of a large real estate deal negotiated on behalf of the UK government. Some believe Nathaniel Godwynn financed the purchase specifically to acquire Rosenthal. He was known in various circles, including a late stage high level Thelema oriented crowd known to play host to both NASA Rocket Scientists and cult religious leaders alike. Very likely one of the only living people ever to accomplish a true to life feat of magic, harnessing powers mankind is not meant to know.

Tyrone Bowens: (age 25) Originally from one of the worst ghettos in America, Tyrone showed promise as both an athlete and a scholar from an extremely early age. Upon the loss of his parents at age 15 he was moved across the country to live with his aunt, Tameika Bowens, a VP of Strategic Acquisition who worked closely with Nathaniel as far back as the initial public offering of Godwynn Enterprises. Within 3 months of the move, Tyrone was working as an intern and in-office assistant to the entire Strategic Acquisition team. His role on the survey team saw him responsible for the team's relationship to the local communities surrounding potential research areas. Most that knew him before his untimely death, remember him as a gentle and funny individual aside from his known lovers, who tend to say quite the opposite.

Robert Orange: (age 56) Older brother of Agent Russel Orange, head of security for ML and GE. While both brothers exhibited qualities their own mother referred to as "textbook fuckup traits," Robert had far fewer of the redeeming characteristics present in his younger sibling. This fact conjured a hard life, full of frustration and self victimization which led to an addiction to morphine and a penchant for pharmaceutical grade methamphetamines that eventually careened out of control and siphoned off the little bit of a life he had pieced together. During this time Russel and Robert lost contact for years prior to reuniting in late 2015 after the loss of Russel's wife, Magdalene Godwynn. After a few years of working closely together at the helm of security, Russel lobbied to get his brother a place on MLAST where he would provide security services as well as, and this is generally unknown, keep Agent Orange abreast of the research conducted.

[gravalicious]

The City was central to commerce and finance, leading to the foundation of not only the Bank of England, but trading companies such as the East India Company and the Royal African Company (RAC). African gold was transported to London by the RAC, which was then minted into coins for circulation in England. First minted in 1663, the Guinea coin got its name from the Guinea coast, the centre of the English slave trade in West Africa. An important area to source gold, local Akan miners excavated it from forests in modern-day Ghana, transporting it to the coast where it was sold on by African merchants in exchange for textiles, cowrie shells, copper, firearms and other goods. This Guinea coin is a physical representation of these trade connections. It carries evidence of this through the introduction of the elephant and castle symbol under the bust of the monarch, signifying the Royal African Company.

Bank of England Museum - Slavery and the Bank [Large Print Guide] (2022)

[rainofcolours]

RIP Takahashi sensei 😭 Thank you for all the joy, hope, and memories for the past two decades.

I never would have gotten where I am now without Yugioh.

This series is the reason why I kept at creative writing and dabbled in art as a hobby from my teens until now – both of which have allowed me to pivot to being a comics editor and a marketing manager from a solid finance background, all without relevant experience, after my quarter-life crisis.

When I was at my lowest after my GCSEs, it was the reminder of Katsuya’s fighting spirit that drew me forth from the unyielding grasp of depression. Seto’s grit then pulled me into a new confidence when being “encouraged” to do a major I didn’t want to, from which I’ve excavated technical and lifelong skills that have allowed me to thrive in environments far beyond my comfort zone.

Thank you for helping me along this life trajectory.

You did it, partner. Farewell, be well.

[greylagwriting]

The Characters of Red Planet Demolition

(Mostly a basic outline. Feel free to ask questions about them)

Pietre Sugarloaf

A middle-aged man and CEO of Zenith Neo, manufacturer of the hottest electronics and anthroids on Mars. Despite his "tech-bro" attitude, Pietre knows very little about electronics, mechanics, or anything of the sort. He regularly makes statements that are well ridiculed in the Sinus Sabaeus Scoop, Mars' premier newspaper.

He does, however, have a lot of rich and powerful friends, so no matter what trash comes out of his mouth, Pietre's company will still be afloat.

Edel

When Zenith Neo began making anthroids - humanoid robots intended to be personal assistants and companions - their first model was called the S-1. They had synthetic skin and were supposed to be as human-like as possible, but test groups found them creepy and unsettling.

The only S-1 that wasn't scrapped was Edel, the very first one to ever be made. He currently serves as CFO of Zenith Neo and Pierre's right-hand man.

Leo duPont

Unlike Pietre, Leo is very well-versed in robotics. He designed most of the technology that made Jade Industries what it is today.

Also unlike Pietre, Leo has no idea how to run a business. The only reason Jade Ind. is still in business is because Leo and his board members have been engaging in a degree of financial fraud that makes Enron look tame.

He also engineered the event that would become known as the Robot Uprising of 2161.

Using his technological skills, Leo hacked into the anthroids and electronics made by Zenith Neo and caused them to lash out at anything and anyone. All of ZN's robots have an emergency, voice-activated "force stop", but Leo overrode it. As a result, several people were injured and thousands of dollars of property damage was done.

Even part of the IMLSN (Integrated Martian Life Support Network) was damaged, which nearly resulted in a massive catastrophe.

After this happened, ZN was sued for hundreds of millions in damages. Though they weren't technically responsible, no one at ZN could figure out who the hackers were so they ended up shouldering the blame.

Despite Pietre's rich friends, it was a devastating blow to both ZN's finances and public image.

ZN-THP

Also known as Xanthippe, ZN-THP is the latest and greatest model of anthroid created by Zenith Neo. She was created as a way to try and pull their reputation out of the mud, or at least dazzle the public and distract them from the robot uprising fiasco.

A big part of the story involves the prototype ZN-THP model being abducted and held for ransom by Jade Ind.'s team of spies.

Marie Étale

An unparalleled genius, Marie is a scientist that engineered the first teleportation device. By folding space-time like an accordion, movement between different planets is now trivial.

Both Zenith Neo and Jade Ind. have begged for Marie to join them, but she has been wary of their potentially destructive rivalry. She is head of her own company - Red Planet Demolition, which specializes in excavation for new buildings on Mars.

She also runs an underground network of spies, under the name Dr. Nim. Marie has no allegiance to either ZN or Jade, but she worries they may turn to drastic measures to put each other out of business. Hence, the spies she hires are for checking up on those two companies.

Antonina Chekov

Prior to the robot uprising, most menial work was done by robots. However, the public was not entirely keen to have them around after said uprising, so many jobs are now done by humans with analogue equipment.

Chekov is a janitor that works at Zenith Neo. Quiet and reserved, Dr. Nim has hired her a spy. As a janitor, she is allowed into places that are off-limits to normal staff.

[man-and-atom]

Reflective subjects, such as the silver cardstock covers of this little booklet, are notoriously difficult to scan and photograph. Also, white ink is so rarely used in printing that the term is almost synonymous, in the trade, with “your graphic designer really messed up”.

In case you’re wondering about the repeated emphasis on the private financing of Vallecitos, there are at least two things going on here :

Southern California Edison generated the first nuclear electricity in California, from the Sodium Reactor Experiment built by Atomics International, at Santa Susana near Los Angeles, for the AEC

PG&E was a major combatant in the war of the investor-owned utilities against public power, which among other things involved placing advertisements in national magazines claiming that the Rural Electrification Administration was being used as a stalking-horse for a plot to nationalize the electricity industry ; lobbying against the production of power from waste heat at Hanford New Production Reactor, because it would set a bad example ; and lobbying which blocked a joint project of the AEC and the California Department of Water Resources to build something called the “Large Seed-Blanket Reactor” (similar to the later Light-Water Breeder Reactor)

We may note that the Bodega Bay nuclear project was stopped by a very energetic pressure campaign which played on fears related to nuclear weapons testing, by convincing local residents that they would be contaminated by fallout if the plant were built. The abandoned foundation excavations are known to locals as “the hole in the Head”.