#pipes and cistern

[reasonsforhope]

As relentless rains pounded LA, the city’s “sponge” infrastructure helped gather 8.6 billion gallons of water—enough to sustain over 100,000 households for a year.

Earlier this month, the future fell on Los Angeles. A long band of moisture in the sky, known as an atmospheric river, dumped 9 inches of rain on the city over three days—over half of what the city typically gets in a year. It’s the kind of extreme rainfall that’ll get ever more extreme as the planet warms.

The city’s water managers, though, were ready and waiting. Like other urban areas around the world, in recent years LA has been transforming into a “sponge city,” replacing impermeable surfaces, like concrete, with permeable ones, like dirt and plants. It has also built out “spreading grounds,” where water accumulates and soaks into the earth.

With traditional dams and all that newfangled spongy infrastructure, between February 4 and 7 the metropolis captured 8.6 billion gallons of stormwater, enough to provide water to 106,000 households for a year. For the rainy season in total, LA has accumulated 14.7 billion gallons.

Long reliant on snowmelt and river water piped in from afar, LA is on a quest to produce as much water as it can locally. “There's going to be a lot more rain and a lot less snow, which is going to alter the way we capture snowmelt and the aqueduct water,” says Art Castro, manager of watershed management at the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. “Dams and spreading grounds are the workhorses of local stormwater capture for either flood protection or water supply.”

Centuries of urban-planning dogma dictates using gutters, sewers, and other infrastructure to funnel rainwater out of a metropolis as quickly as possible to prevent flooding. Given the increasingly catastrophic urban flooding seen around the world, though, that clearly isn’t working anymore, so now planners are finding clever ways to capture stormwater, treating it as an asset instead of a liability. “The problem of urban hydrology is caused by a thousand small cuts,” says Michael Kiparsky, director of the Wheeler Water Institute at UC Berkeley. “No one driveway or roof in and of itself causes massive alteration of the hydrologic cycle. But combine millions of them in one area and it does. Maybe we can solve that problem with a thousand Band-Aids.”

Or in this case, sponges. The trick to making a city more absorbent is to add more gardens and other green spaces that allow water to percolate into underlying aquifers—porous subterranean materials that can hold water—which a city can then draw from in times of need. Engineers are also greening up medians and roadside areas to soak up the water that’d normally rush off streets, into sewers, and eventually out to sea...

To exploit all that free water falling from the sky, the LADWP has carved out big patches of brown in the concrete jungle. Stormwater is piped into these spreading grounds and accumulates in dirt basins. That allows it to slowly soak into the underlying aquifer, which acts as a sort of natural underground tank that can hold 28 billion gallons of water.

During a storm, the city is also gathering water in dams, some of which it diverts into the spreading grounds. “After the storm comes by, and it's a bright sunny day, you’ll still see water being released into a channel and diverted into the spreading grounds,” says Castro. That way, water moves from a reservoir where it’s exposed to sunlight and evaporation, into an aquifer where it’s banked safely underground.

On a smaller scale, LADWP has been experimenting with turning parks into mini spreading grounds, diverting stormwater there to soak into subterranean cisterns or chambers. It’s also deploying green spaces along roadways, which have the additional benefit of mitigating flooding in a neighborhood: The less concrete and the more dirt and plants, the more the built environment can soak up stormwater like the actual environment naturally does.

As an added benefit, deploying more of these green spaces, along with urban gardens, improves the mental health of residents. Plants here also “sweat,” cooling the area and beating back the urban heat island effect—the tendency for concrete to absorb solar energy and slowly release it at night. By reducing summer temperatures, you improve the physical health of residents. “The more trees, the more shade, the less heat island effect,” says Castro. “Sometimes when it’s 90 degrees in the middle of summer, it could get up to 110 underneath a bus stop.”

LA’s far from alone in going spongy. Pittsburgh is also deploying more rain gardens, and where they absolutely must have a hard surface—sidewalks, parking lots, etc.—they’re using special concrete bricks that allow water to seep through. And a growing number of municipalities are scrutinizing properties and charging owners fees if they have excessive impermeable surfaces like pavement, thus incentivizing the switch to permeable surfaces like plots of native plants or urban gardens for producing more food locally.

So the old way of stormwater management isn’t just increasingly dangerous and ineffective as the planet warms and storms get more intense—it stands in the way of a more beautiful, less sweltering, more sustainable urban landscape. LA, of all places, is showing the world there’s a better way.

-via Wired, February 19, 2024

[petaltexturedskies]

I am a product of long corridors, empty sunlit rooms, upstairs indoor silences, attics explored in solitude, distant noises of gurgling cisterns and pipes, and the noise of wind under the tiles. Also, of endless books.

C.S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life

[johannestevans]

had our toilet replaced which is excellent bc it's a better toilet, doesn't have an absurd wooden box "hiding" the cistern, and has a working flush

the plumbers were adorably fascinated by my apartment. went "oooh! wow!" as they entered and did the same when i said the building was built in 1897

the master plumber at one point was like, "erm, hello, where are you?" while i was behind some shelves doing DIY, and so i came to have a look, and he was like, "listen, i've been doing plumbing for 20 years and i've never seen smoke come out of a toilet"

and i said, "hey what now?"

and i looked and there was indeed a not insignificant amount of steam coming out of the exposed waste pipe, presumably from one of the other apartments as somebody has a shower

and i went, "ah yes. the apartment conversions were done in 2004, i think with more thought of budget than sense"

i've let the caretaker know bc i assume there's a cracked pipe in SOMEONE's flat even though the plumber assures me it's not in ours and i've no doubt absolutely nothing will be done about it, but god, what an absolutely bonkers building this is

[whencyclopedia]

Aqueduct

Aqueducts transport water from one place to another, achieving a regular and controlled supply to a place that would not otherwise receive sufficient quantities. Consequently, aqueducts met basic needs from antiquity onwards such as the irrigation of food crops and drinking fountains. Ancient aqueducts took the form of tunnels, surface channels and canals, covered clay pipes and monumental bridges.

Ever since the human race has lived in communities and farmed the land, water management has been a key factor in the well-being and prosperity of a community. Settlements not immediately near a freshwater source dug shafts into underground water tables to create wells and cisterns were also created to collect rainwater so that it could be used at a later date. Underground aqueducts and those built as bridges on the surface, however, allowed communities not only to access clean and fresh water but to live further from a water source and to utilise land which would otherwise have been unusable for agriculture.

Where Were the Earliest Aqueducts?

The earliest and simplest aqueducts were constructed of lengths of inverted clay tiles and sometimes pipes which channelled water over a short distance and followed the contours of the land. The earliest examples of these date from the Minoan civilization on Crete in the early 2nd millennium BCE and from contemporary Mesopotamia. Aqueducts were also an important feature of Mycenaean settlements in the 14th century BCE, ensuring autonomy against siege for the acropolis of Mycenae and the fortifications at Tiryns.

Continue reading...

[arcqiv]

Tuesday | 04/22 | 11:48 p.m.

Mid-Sem update:

QLT ✅️

English ✅️

I was quite concerned for QLT. I expected MCQs, but we had to solve word problems. I practised for 5 consecutive hours y'day and finally lost my patience during those time & work, pipe & cistern questions. You know the..A fills, B empties, C randomly joins halfway? Yeah, that nonsense.

I spent two whole hours on those damn qs, and not a one showed up in the paper.

Love that for me.

[diced-sugar]

When I was a kid, I was big into Herobrine. That’s a big reason as to why I love Minecraft horror now, but that’s a different story. Every summer, my family and I used to go to a cabin my mom owns out of state. Unfortunately however, the cabin has no running water because there is no place to access water easily on property. For this reason, we would have to use my grandfather’s truck (who I never met because he died before I was born) with a huge water tank on the back to transport water into a cistern, that would then give the cabin running water in limited supply. We would periodically check the level of the water using a big pole, and when we ran out, we would drive to a refill station to get more.

The refill station is a bit hard to describe. I can’t remember all the details but there was a huge water tank with a thick gray pipe that went up and over in a squarish shape to accommodate the vehicle beneath it. Then there was this sort of short hose coming out of the pipe at its middle point that would then attach to the small hole at the top of our water tank, which was also slightly see-through. My least favorite aunt usually went on these trips, but for some reason I always wanted to go with her back then.

For some reason, after night fell, we had to go get more water. I got into the truck with just my aunt and we drove off to the refill station. The sky was black and so was the field around us. The main source of light was the single golden light of the refill station, illuminating a radius of about 30 feet all around us. My aunt counted the coins to be put into the slot of the refill station to pay for the water. Usually I would get up onto the truck bed to watch the level of the water in the tank, but this time I didn’t. I just stared off into the darkness.

On the other side of the rocky dirt street, I saw a tan pole with two white dots on it. At least, that’s what it looked like. I didn’t believe it, but I wondered if this could be Herobrine. I was pretty lonely whenever we went there, so I always came up with characters to talk to in my head to entertain myself (OCs basically). In this night I happened to choose Herobrine. I blinked at it slowly, like a cat, as if to placate it and ask it if it wanted to be friends.

My aunt noticed me doing this and asked, “What are you looking at?”

I just said, “Nothing.” When the truck was refilled we went home.

I wonder if she thinks about that sometimes 😭😭 like if I really did see a forest demon. It just pops into my head from time to time.

[themirokai]

now I wanna know- why isn't drinking water free in the US?

Hi there friend! Thanks very much for taking the bait from this post. Buckle up, this is a long one.

If you want to put out a cistern and collect rainwater and use that, congratulations! Your water is free! Plus the cost of maintaining your cistern and keeping it clean. If you’re lucky enough to live somewhere with a high enough water table to have a well, then your water is also free + the cost of the well and well maintenance.

But if you want water to come out of your tap on demand and you can’t or don’t want to maintain a cistern and you can’t or don’t want to have a well… you need public water!

How do we get public water? Well, a government entity (usually. there are some private utilities, but that’s a different post. I have strong feelings) has rights to take water out of a river or a lake, or they have a reservoir, or they have access to an aquifer. Then they have to transport the water out of the source. This generally requires aqueducts or massive pipes, which are expensive and need to be maintained, which is also expensive. The pipe leading out of one of my utility’s reservoirs is 12 feet in diameter.

Does the water go directly from the source to your home? Nope! It gets piped to a water filtration plant! The process of modern water filtration is complicated but it involves both physical and chemical treatment to make sure the water isn’t carrying any parasites, harmful bacteria, or pollutants and it has the right pH. Not only are these filtration plants extremely expensive to build and maintain but the process of operating them is extremely expensive, both in terms of hiring skilled staff and having appropriate materials for the filters and chemical treatment.

After the treated water (called “finished water” in the biz) is ready it does get piped to your house.

If you use public water, do you know where your local water filtration plant is? No? That probably means it’s not in your immediate neighborhood, which probably means it’s several miles or more away. To get to your house, the water needs to travel through an extensive pipe network. These pipes are smaller but they have to remain pressurized so that no contaminants can get into the water on its way to your house. But pipes break! Especially if you live somewhere with a freeze/thaw cycle. Maintaining this pipe network is, you guessed it, expensive! It requires materials and extremely skilled workers who perform in very very difficult conditions. Plus lots of engineering to keep the whole system pressurized even when one part of it breaks. Oh, and you know what lots of pipes were made out of in the early 20th century? Lead! So all around the country utilities need to make extensive and costly infrastructure upgrades because now we know lead pipes are really freaking bad.

Okay, so you get the basic picture. And I haven’t even gotten into Safe Drinking Water Act compliance, but most of that happens at the filtration plant. Oo! Or desalinization because some utilities pull their water from the sea and need to take the salt out. I know basically nothing about this except that it is likely complicated and expensive to do at scale.

This is essentially why I get frustrated by people who argue “why should we pay for something that falls out of the sky?” Because finished water doesn’t fall from the sky and it sure as hell doesn’t fall from the sky into your faucet. (Side note: as a public utility official I have been screamed at by the “it falls from the sky” people. A thing I like about the private sector is that people scream at me a lot less.)

Now, there is a very strong argument to be made that because water is necessary for human life, it should be provided by the government for free to everyone. And just like the costs of roads or public education, this should be part of the public budget and paid for by taxes and no one should have a water bill. I don’t disagree with this. I’m sure that’s how it’s done in some countries.

I don’t have a well-researched answer on the history of water utilities but I do have some facts and some (very) educated conjectures. Water rights in the US are complicated (another separate post!) but they’re based on private ownership. Ever since white people came to this country people have been claiming ownership over water and charging each other money for taking water out of rivers or lakes or the ground. You can measure how much of it someone uses and charge them for it. Water is treated like a commodity because unlike other public goods, it *can* be treated like a commodity and then, you know, capitalism. Again, I’m not saying that’s right.

But as a society, if we believe that no one should have a water bill, then we need to figure out how to pay for all the very expensive steps in the process I outlined at the top. Could that just be taxes? Sure, if you have a system that supports taxes at that level. Do I believe that public funding of water infrastructure would be a fuckton better than a lot of things we use taxes for now? Absolutely! But that requires massive institutional change and this isn’t generally an issue that people know enough about to demand change.

If you read this far, congratulations! You now know more stuff about drinking water!

[invis-o-william]

Dannymay 2025 - Day 9: Underground

In the seven years since Dan’s emergence, Amity Park had been all but destroyed. There was a settlement in the center of the city still standing, protected by specter deflectors scavenged from Fentonworks. The people inside feared that it was only a matter of time before Dan found a way in. Technology and innovation still moved forward within its bounds, but for how long?

That wasn’t to say there weren’t other groups of survivors though, their survival attributed to living underneath the former city’s streets. There were two of these groups living under opposite sides of the city. Out of the two, the ones living beneath Amity’s main downtown area were larger in number. The wastewater systems there had been denser, creating a maze of tunnels and cisterns underneath the highrise buildings and historic brick foundations. 

They had been well constructed, and with numerous openings to the surface that had allowed many to escape the initial chaos. Most of those entrances were boarded up or destroyed now, fear from the survivors living below motivating them to try and make their location less accessible to Dan. The drawbacks were obvious, the people had less paths to escape if needed, but what was done was done. 

The Downtowners, as they called themselves, rarely ventured to the surface nowadays. There was seemingly no point. Every scout that went reported back the same thing; desolation, a lack of resources, and a sky streaked with smoke from the ghost’s attacks. So they stayed underground, relying on trade with the Borderlands (the other surviving group) via the now-abandoned subway tunnels. 

With their help, power lines had been scavenged from the surface years ago, and connected to Elmerton’s electrical grid. As a result, both groups had a way to light their subterranean home. With these lights and a few cisterns, food could be grown, and populations sustained. Some appliances were still in use as well, having been dragged down open catch basins and transported carefully through treatment facilities. These had mainly been lamps and the like, though there were a few microwaves and hotplates that managed to make it down. These were gathered together in one of the smaller cisterns to become the community’s kitchen.

Even with their few amenities and trade system set up, the Downtowners were still on edge after all these years. Unlike the Borderlands, they dwelled far within the ruined city’s boundaries. They could hear the crashing of buildings as they fell over their heads, could occasionally smell the acrid scent of burning rubble as the destruction raged on. Rarely, and it was always horrifying when it happened, they could hear Dan’s laughter echoing through the pipes. Could hear him cackle as he destroyed buildings, destroyed all remnants of their former lives. 

It was that laughter they now heard emanating from a drainage grate. It was quickly followed by the sound of metal being torn apart. Then came the footsteps. He had found them. Nobody knew how, but he had. Hell, maybe he had always known they were down there, but just waited til now to attack.

The Downtowners nearby began to run, scrambling to gather the others and go for the subway tunnels. If they could make it to the Borderlands, they might be safe. The Borderlands had access to outer city sewer pipes that fed into the river; if they were lucky they could leave through those and make it to Elmerton. No Amity Parker wanted to step foot in Elmerton if they could help it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Amity Park would cease to exist if her people were dead after all.

The people ran towards the subway entrance; mothers carrying crying babies who had never known the sun’s rays, teenagers who could only barely remember the surface world, and the rest who could remember the initial months of Dan’s wrath all too well. They jumped down into the tunnel, leaving their homes behind once again, and ran. Ran for freedom. For hope. For their lives.

As the group of over two hundred fled, a figure floated down until he touched the floor of the tunnel. He raised one arm, allowing his hand to be coated with energy, and aimed it at the people retreating.

He smiled.

Then, he fired.

[thefisherqueen]

I was wondering about what the bathroom and toilet situation would likely have been like when Sherlock Holmes and dr Watson moved into Baker Street in 1881 (for fanfic reasons, obviously). An in-house bathroom and toilet have long been luxuries. My own parents have stories of not having a bathroom yet at home when they were young, and both grew up in the '60 in the Netherlands. They either had an iron tub filled or went to a public bathhouse, and the toilet was located in the garden. Both of them grew up working class, however. I imagine that Holmes and Watson's combined income would have made them middle class, so the Baker Street rooms would perhaps have been more luxurious.

Doyle thought it probably not appropriate or relevant to really directly discuss it in the stories, but there have been a few mentions of the possibility of taking a bath at Baker Street in the stories, for example when Holmes asks Watson why he would prefer to go to the Turkish bath over taking a bath at home in The illustrious client. I found this interesting article that discusses the likely bathroom situation at Baker Street!

"After 1870, a system of constant water supply began to be introduced to London, although it took over 20 years and a huge amount of pipe retrofitting to bring the “constant” to all of London. The West Middlesex Water Company supplied water to the Northwest section of London, including Marylebone (and thus Baker Street).  By 1891, 43 percent of the houses supplied by this company were on constant.  The change to the constant system involved the water company reworking its water main system under the street to each house and it required each homeowner to redo almost all of the piping system inside the house. The constant water system involved a much higher pressure of water, which the older pipers connected to a cistern could not handle. New fittings and faucets were also required inside the home when the conversion was made.

Thus, by the time that Holmes and Watson rented their rooms on Baker Street from Mrs. Hudson in January 1881, they almost surely had access to piped, running water and to a water closet in the building. More than likely, a room had been converted to a bathroom by the time they rented, but the “constant” water supply was probably introduced to Baker Street later during their tenancy.  The Canon suggests there was a bathroom on the second floor of 221B.  The precise location of the water closet(s) is not known."

Also, look at this victorian contraption! A hip-bath it was called. It just looks so funny

[neoyorzapoteca]

Hi,

I'm so sorry to hear that's happening. How are you and others dealing with it, if I might ask?

the water situation, you mean? thank you, it's an awful state of affairs all over the country with the record-breaking, unrelenting heat and drought—I'm quite lucky in that my building hasn't been suffering from constant partial water cuts throughout the last few months like some others, or dealing with solvent-tainted water as the only thing coming through the pipes; other neighborhoods haven't been getting water for months and have to pay for giant pipes to be delivered to fill the cisterns (and there are long waiting lists for those, too, here and in many other cities).

my landlady had the foresight to supply each of the tenants with a new 100L plastic trash bin to be used as a personal water tank, so when water stops coming in altogether they give us a warning so that we can put aside some water in case the cistern gets emptied; rationing said tank & carrying 20L bottles blocks from the store & up four flights is how we got through this last little stretch, minimizing use and repurposing used water whenever possible

you end up having to pay more for everything – eat out, because you can't do the dishes; take clothes to the laundromat, because you can't wash at home; you might have to shower at a friend's, or if it gets dire, even rent a room just to do that – not to mention the cost of buying bottled water even to bathe adds up (and coca-cola owns one of the main brands of bottled water, so they're lining their pockets while draining the reservoir that supplies over 1/4 of this massive city, with zero sanctions imposed)

pray tlaloc brings the rains soon y'all

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch.14

A Deafening Silence

Prev: Ch.13 Lacking in Virtue || Next: Ch.15 The Final Spark Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Mercer and Ariene have been gone for too long, and Brynjolf decides that it's time to take matters into his own hands…now if only he can convince his friends of that.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,572

Check the relogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

“In short, Sera, I am quick, effective, and discreet. I believe I’d be an excellent asset to your Guild.” 

Brynjolf leaned back in his seat, eying the Dunmer sitting across from him. Ravyn Imyan, a former member of the Morag Tong who’d written to him about joining the Guild nearly a month ago, had arrived in the city that morning and made himself known to Brynjolf at the market. Brynjolf hadn’t been sure what to expect from the dark elf after their brief written exchange, but he seemed a decent enough fit for the Guild. If nothing else, he was very professional. 

“Just tell me one thing, lad,” Brynjolf said.  “We may employ similar methods at times, but make no mistake: we’re not killers. Why exactly does an ex-assassin want to join up with the Thieves Guild?” 

Ravyn’s brow creased slightly, but he folded his fingers together and gave Brynjolf a straight answer. 

“When I killed, I killed in the name of Mephala, and in the name of justice. With the Morag Tong disbanded, the other avenues available to me in this profession are not to my tastes. I have no desire to be a simple blade for hire, so I’m seeking another avenue to use my skills.”

Brynjolf nodded, satisfied.

“Well then, I should think the Guild will be lucky to have you. You’ll have to receive official approval from the Guildmaster when he returns from business, but in the meantime you’re welcome to take some preliminary work and get familiar with our process.” 

“Excellent. And when can I expect the Guildmaster back?”

Brynjolf had to stop himself from clenching his fists, and he took a sip of his ale to hide his grimace. 

“We should be receiving communication from him soon; I can’t give you more specifics than that until you’re officially inducted.” 

Ravyn seemed to accept this, or at the very least didn’t pry any further. Brynjolf stood and caught Tonilia’s eye from across the room, gesturing for her to come over.

��Please show our new recruit around the cistern and see that he gets settled in,” he told her as she approached. 

Tonilia shot him a look like she was going to object, but she paused when she saw the expression on his face. Sighing, she nodded and gestured for Ravyn to follow her.

“Come on, then. The Guild headquarters are through here. If you need to fence anything, talk to me in the Flagon and I’ll give you a fair price.”

She led Ravyn out into the cistern, closing the secret door behind her and cutting off the sound of their conversation. 

“It’s a risk, lettin’ him into the cistern before Mercer’s had a chance to vet him,” Delvin piped up from where he and Vex sat in the corner.

The old thief had a point; not because Ravyn couldn’t be trusted, but because Mercer would be furious if he found out they’d approved a new Guild member without asking him. Brynjolf sighed, grabbing his ale before joining the two lieutenants at their table. 

“And what do you suggest as an alternative?” he asked. “Waiting for Mercer to get back here before giving him an answer?”

“He could be back any day now–” Delvin began, but Vex interrupted him. 

“Cut the crap, Delvin. I know what Brynjolf’s thinking, and I know you’re thinking it too.”

Delvin grimaced, unable to argue with her. 

It had been almost three weeks since Mercer and Ariene had left in pursuit of Karliah. Despite his best efforts, Brynjolf had been unable to stop himself from keeping track of the days they were absent in the back of his mind, and by this point, they weren’t just late. If they had come back anytime in the last three to four days, Brynjolf would have demanded to know what took them so long. 

“We should have gotten word from them by now, at least,��� Vex continued, leaning her elbows on the table. “The only reason we wouldn’t have is if something went wrong with the job.” 

“I’m not sayin’ you’re wrong, Vex,” Delvin said. “But without word from them, what are we supposed to do about it?” 

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Brynjolf said. “I’m going out after them.” 

The two thieves spoke at once, their voices overlapping one another as they protested Brynjolf’s declaration.

“What, so whatever happened to them can happen to you too?” 

“Have you lost your mind, lad?”

“When I said you needed to deal with your feelings I did not mean that you should go gallivanting through the countryside on some kind of quest.”

“You can’t go out there Bryn, the Guild needs you too much right now.” 

Brynjolf held up his hands, silencing both of them. 

“Alright, alright, I get the picture.” 

“Do you?” Vex demanded, folding her arms. “Do you really? Our Guildmaster is missing, you’re the most senior member of the Guild we have right now, and instead of staying here to help everyone prepare for what might be coming next, you think the best thing to do is to run off who knows where and leave the Guild even more exposed?”   

Brynjolf fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“You lot have managed just fine when I’ve gone out on jobs with Mercer before,” he said.

“Sure, we can keep things under control on our own for a few days,” said Delvin. “No one’s sayin’ that we can’t. But what if it’s not just a few days? What happens to the Guild if you go out there and you don’t come back either?”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Brynjolf said dryly. “I can take care of myself.”

“So can Mercer,” Vex snapped. “And so can Ariene.” 

“Which is not encouraging, considering that they’re missing now,” Delvin added. 

“Which is all the more reason I should go after them, if you think about it!” Brynjolf insisted. He found his voice rising in volume as he continued, and for once, he didn’t care to try and stop it. “There’s a chance they’re stranded somewhere and need help. Hell, they could be snowed in at the sanctum itself for all we know, running desperately low on supplies!” 

Vex and Delvin exchanged a look, and Brynjolf closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Part of him was tempted to just get up and walk out of the conversation. Every minute they spent debating was another minute that he could be out there searching, and if he was completely honest with himself, he wished that he’d gone out after them weeks ago. The only reason he hadn’t was the same as what Delvin and Vex were saying now: if something happened to him, it would leave the Guild floundering even worse than it had back when Gallus died. 

Guild first, Mercer had told him, and gods above, he had tried to hold himself to that, for everyone else’s sake if not his own. But whatever restraint he’d still possessed had evaporated when Ravyn Imyan had asked about Mercer’s return. 

Brynjolf opened his eyes and looked at his friends. The worry in their faces reflected his own, and he forced himself to say the words that he’d been dreading the most. 

“Look. I know there’s also a chance that they’re dead, alright?” 

Delvin winced, and Vex sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“Bryn–” she began, but Brynjolf shook his head, cutting her off. 

“I’m not a fool, Vex. I know what we’re dealing with here. If Karliah could get the drop on Gallus of all people, she could do the same to Mercer and Ariene. But if she did manage to take them down, we need to know that for sure. We can’t anticipate her next move if we don’t even know whether she’s still on the playing field. All the more reason to go out looking for answers.”  

“I don’t know, Brynjolf,” Delvin said. “I won’t disagree with you that the intel would be nice, but I don’t like the taste of this. Are we sure it’s worth the risk?

“If there’s even the slightest chance that I can find them and bring them home safely?” Brynjolf asked. “Then yes. You can bet your last septim it’s worth the risk.” 

And if he was too late to save them, he could at least start his own plan of vengeance for Karliah. She had nearly destroyed the Guild once, and he would not let her do so again. 

Delvin nodded slowly, but Vex’s face had twisted into a frown. 

“Brynjolf, if you–” 

“Let ‘im go, Vex,” Delvin said, laying a hand on her arm. “Look at him, he’s made up his mind. You know there’s no talking him out of it now.” 

Vex huffed and jerked away from his touch. 

“Next time you lay a hand on me, I’ll cut it off,” she snapped before standing up and stalking away.

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow at Delvin, who just shook his head and leaned back in his chair. 

“If you do manage to get back in one piece, you better have a damn good way of making things up to her,” he said. “And to me too, now that I think about it. I don’t relish being stuck down here with her fuming for gods know how long.” 

“I’ll order you a fruit basket from the Bee and Barb,” Brynjolf quipped before taking a long drag of his ale. 

“Make it a silver plated basket with golden fruit sculptures, and then you might pique my interest,” Delvin with a chuckle. 

Brynjolf cracked a small smile at that, but the lighter mood didn’t last long.

“Listen,” Delvin said, his voice grim. “Just because I’m not gonna keep arguing with you on this doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. Please tell me you at least have a plan more involved than marching straight up the goddamn mountain and getting yourself shot through the eye by a psychopathic Dunmer with some kinda vendetta against us?”

“Yes, Delvin, I have a plan,” Brynjolf said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Well, go on then, let’s hear it.”

Delvin folded his arms, and Brynjolf took another sip of ale to buy himself a few seconds to think of said plan. He wouldn’t have put it quite so colorfully, but his first thought had been to ride as fast and hard as he could to Snow Veil Sanctum and discover whatever he could there. 

However, if he stopped and thought about it, that was a good way to get himself killed. Hadn’t he criticized Mercer for being too rash to think clearly about this very mission? He squinted at Delvin, who took a sip of his wine with what was probably meant to be an innocent expression. 

“Very clever,” Brynjolf said flatly. 

Delvin merely gave a slight nod, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“So, about that plan of yours?” he asked. 

“Well…” 

Brynjolf conjured up a map of Eastmarch in his head, considering both the places he knew along the main road and the places that were further off the beaten path. There were quite a few nooks and crannies to make use of if you wanted to avoid detection, and he knew that Mercer was aware of at least as many of them as he was. If he and Ariene had failed to take Karliah out, it was possible that they were hiding out somewhere in the wilderness, trying to get back to Riften without being caught. 

“I’ll take the eastern route from Riften to Windhelm,” he eventually said. “But I won’t just stick to the main road. I’ll check our usual haunts along the way for any sign of them until I reach the city, and if I don’t find them then yes, I’m going to investigate the Sanctum. If they aren’t there either, I’ll explore the western side of the hold on my way back down south. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for any word of Karliah as well; anything that could tell me where she is or what she’s up to, if she is still alive.” 

“Alright then,” Delvin said. “Though I still don’t like the idea of you going alone into the last known place a murderer was lurking.”

“I have to. We need to find out what happened up there, and I…I need to know if…”

Brynjolf closed his eyes, an image of Ariene smiling sadly at him as she prepared to leave rising unbidden in his mind. 

Come back to me in one piece, alright lass? 

Of course I will.

He opened his eyes to find Delvin looking at him sympathetically, and suddenly he didn’t care if he sounded sentimental or unprofessional. 

“I owe her a drink,” he said quietly. “I need to bring her home.”

“I know,” Delvin said simply, and Brynjolf nodded, getting to his feet. 

“Keep an eye on that Imyan fellow for me while I’m gone, and try not to let the books fall apart completely, alright?” 

Brynjolf headed to his quarters and busied himself preparing his traveling pack, making sure to bring an extra cloak and to stock up heavily on rations and health potions, in case Mercer and Ariene really were stranded because of the weather. He decided to keep his armor on for this trip, trading the anonymity of normal traveling gear for stronger protection in case Karliah was lying in wait anywhere along the road.

Once packed, he strode into the cistern, clapping his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention.

“Listen up!” he called, his voice echoing around the chamber. “I’m going out to find Mercer and Ariene. I won’t lie to you and say that this isn’t dangerous, but it needs to be done. There’s a chance that Karliah is out there somewhere plotting against us, and we need to be ready for anything. I want everyone going on jobs in pairs until I get back with more news; be on guard and watch each other’s backs. Delvin and Vex are in charge until further notice.” 

He looked around the room, meeting each of his Guildmate’s eyes in turn. 

Everything’s under control, he tried to say with his eyes. We’ll get through this. 

He turned, intending to go to the training room to pick up a few extra daggers, but found himself face to face with Vex instead. Her expression was carefully blank, but he recognized the thunder storming in her eyes. 

“Listen Vex,” he said, but before he could continue she shoved a bundle at him. 

“Here,” she said. “Two extra pairs of daggers, a whetstone, and since you’re a sentimental fool, take this too.” 

She produced a scrap of paper from her pocket and Brynjolf took it, frowning in confusion. Unfolding it, he read the first few words: This document serves as proof of ownership of the stallion Quicksilver. 

“Lass…is this the writ of ownership to your horse?”

“Obviously,” Vex said shortly. “Ariene has yours, right? Seems a waste of time to have to haggle for a new one before you leave.” 

“I…” Brynjolf swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “Thank you, Vex.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Vex muttered. “Just don’t get yourself killed out there, or I’ll murder you myself, got it?” 

Despite everything, Brynjolf found a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he nodded to her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, lass.”

— — —

Next chapter is already half done, so hopefully another update is coming soon!

[shousetsubangbang]

by Suzuran, illustrated by Pastel, from Issue 110: Neon Lights

-

Kay never gets tired of the rain.

From her place by the stove, she can watch the misty raindrops congeal on the northeastern window and tiptoe down into the wide, square mouth of the raincatcher. The drizzle is light enough that it doesn’t make much sound as it runs down the pipe, through the first filter and the little electric turbine, and into the pump; but it’s still water, and every so often, the pump still kicks in, ferrying another spoonful up into the cistern in the corner. On the other side of the glass, the rain washes out all the brutal neon glow from the distant billboards far below and the city streets beneath, into muted, shifting shades of grey. The raindrops on the window break the square and leaden pillar of the building across the way into dull grey pebbles. Kay watches another raindrop grow fat and start its jerky way down the glass while the single electric burner whines in protest and the kettle tries valiantly to bubble. It’s been raining since she got up an hour or two ago, and will most likely be raining when she goes back to bed. It’s probably around sunrise, but even with two whole windows to look out of, between the clouds above and the lights of the city below, it’s impossible to tell.

The simmer in the kettle finally rises to a boil. Instantly, the hypervigilant off-switch flips to stop it.

The sound makes Kay twitch. She notes it without much interest, then turns, picks up the kettle, pulls the plug, and crosses the tiny apartment in two steps. In the middle of the floor sits the bathtub — not where Kay would have put it, but that’s where the plumbing hookup is. There used to be a wall of some kind around it, based on the staining on the concrete floor, to divide it and the toilet from the rest of the apartment, but that’s long gone. A tattered accordion-fold of stiff, cloudy acrylic stands in front of the toilet now, shielding it from view.

The tub is a little under half-full, which is about as much as it needs to be. Kay pours the kettle’s steaming contents into the heavy steel tub, and a cloud wafts up, soft and warm. It was hard to get a steel bathtub, but worth it, for both strength and sterility; the metal is dented and scratched, but still intact and mold-free, which is more than Kay can say for its predecessor. It doesn’t hold the heat well, but that’s a sacrifice worth making.

[thekrows-nest]

I was thinking for the sanitary facilities Krow either bought a composting camping toilet, dug a long drop outhouse, or filled the cistern manually from buckets of rainwater.

Fixing the pipes makes that easier.

Dove is a water hog and easily gets cold 🙃

They might really struggle to adjust to off grid living

Yeah any of those could easily be it. Krow is a resourceful lil dude. he'd figure... SOMETHING out.

Ohhhhhh, ohhhh Dove, ohhhh nooooo.

He'll do what he can to keep them comfortable and happy.

But ohhhh noooo.

[blackjackkent]

All right. Let's get Minsc back!

I learned (a bit) from my last attempt at this with Hector and am actually putting our frontline fighters ahead of the backline ones for purpose of walking through the little tiny tunnel in which we enter the Minsc Combat Zone.

Conveniently, since Jaheira will be going owlbear mode, this allows me to put her in front and continue my headcanon that she is no longer making a pretense of Rakha being the leader on this particular scenario. She is tired, she is angry, she is lonely, and she Wants. Her. Friend. Back.

She halts in the sewer tunnel, seeing the pacing bulk of the Rashemaar, then turns and puts out a hand abruptly against Rakha's arm. Her eyes go hard and steady, looking up to meet Rakha's.

"Hear me a moment, cub," she says quietly. "We have spoken of your blood, of the hunger it gives you to kill. And I have said that I will stand with you, that I will guide you. Well, let me guide you now."

Rakha blinks, raising one eyebrow slightly, and then nods.

Jaheira waits for this acknowledgement, then goes on. "I think we will find many cultists in there, including that fiend that wears my face. Do what you will with them. But lay a hand on Minsc with murder in your mind, and I will not stay my hand in answer. Are we clear?"

A long silence. Then Rakha nods again. "Yes," she says, low, gutteral - and completely firm. She has seen Jaheira's building strain over the last few days; she does not doubt the truth of the druid's words now. More to the point, she agrees with them. She does not want to kill Minsc; she has not followed his trail all the way here only to lose control now.

Jaheira searches her expression intently for a long moment, and then nods, drawing back. "Let us go, then."

-----

The cistern proper is a large open room, shrouded in foul-smelling fog. Long-abandoned and rusted mechanisms line the walls, along with heavy iron pipes snaking in and out of the stonework. Several hooded Bhaalists prowl the edges of the room, and at the far end stands Minsc with his doppelganger partner - and a small and surprisingly familiar figure engaged in intent conversation with them.

"All the coin seems to be there, if a little blood-stained," Roah Moonglow is saying cheerfully as Rakha and the others draw carefully within earshot in the cistern's shadowy entrance. She clicks her tongue, amused, and peers up at the two taller figures with sardonic humor. "You lot are enthusiastic about your Lord's work."

"Our Lady," the creature wearing Jaheira's face growls. "We serve only the Absolute."

Roah laughs. She doesn't seem at all bothered by the other woman's air of threat; Rakha gets the distinct impression that Roah has stared down enough people taller than her that it no longer troubles her a jot. "Silly me," the halfling deadpans. "We Zhentarim are so long past our own godly roots, I'm afraid I forget the half of them."

She turns her head to eye Minsc, and for a moment a little of the brittle facade fades, replaced by honest curiosity. "But you I know," she says thoughtfully. "When did you start worshiping gods?" Again the flash of a taunting grin. "Did they give your wee rodent a worm friend too?"

Rakha edges further into the sewer just enough to see Minsc flinch abruptly at the words. He looks as if someone has struck him - or, more to the point, as if something is striking him from within. Rakha knows that expression. She's felt it on her own face many times.

"Rodent?" he whispers unsteadily.

"Enough!" the false Jaheira snarls before Roah can clarify. "You will show the Stone Lord proper respect! And you will return to the Guildhall and do as we have paid you to."

Roah swallows, her composure cracking just a little. "Of course," she says hastily. "I only thought--"

"Wait."

The pain has faded from Minsc's face, and as he looks up, his eyes fix directly on Rakha, as if he has cut aside all the shadows that cover her. Then his gaze turns from her to Jaheira, and his expression hardens almost to the stone he has been named for.

"Flop all you wish, little fish," he growls, and the basso grumble of his voice resonates all the way to the room's high ceiling. "But Minsc has caught you!"

At once all of the Bhaalists are on guard, and the doppelganger draws her scimitars with a nasty smile. Rakha sees the glint out of the corner of her eye as Jaheira's blades flash into her hands in answer.

Roah grins broadly and immediately begins to backpedal towards the ladder that leads out of the room. "On that note - good luck!" she calls as she goes. "The job will be done by the time you get to the guildhall."

And then she's gone, and the Bhaalists close ranks. And as fire flares out from Rakha's fingers towards one of the cultists, she hears Jaheira's voice rising in alarm over the din of combat - no wise and controlled counsel now but pure desperate pleading:

[artherzenswarme]

Diagram of a Dwarven Lodge. Situated inside a mountain, most activity occurs in the "twilight zone", which represents caves that receive some amount of sunlight, or constructed burrows that are made close enough to the surface that ventilation and lighting tunnels can easily be dug. (These tunnels are represented in yellow on this diagram.) 1. The Mountain Snowcap. Precipitation forms into snow here. 2. Precipitation falls on the windward slope of the mountain, which is collected in; 3. Snowcap Canal. This is responsible for collecting precipitation and runoff from the top of the mountain. This is a simplified model, Dwarven lodges may contain multiple canals at different elevation levels. The snowcap canal drains into; 4. The Primary Cistern. This collects and stores pure water to be diverted for different uses. 5. The Moat. This is a collection of tunnels which have been flooded with water to prevent access to the Lodge. There are often decoy tunnels carved to confused intruders, Dwarven Moats are nearly impossible to breach without preexisting knowledge, or a guide. 6. The Foyer. This is a large entrance tunnel which narrows down into the Moat. 7. The Main Burrow. A large communal space where Dwarves engage in leisure and social activities. 8. The Secondary Cistern. Water from the Primary Cistern drains into the secondary system. In many Lodges, this Cistern is home to Fish and Crustaceans, which the Dwarves farm for their flesh and waste. 9. A primitive Septic System. Waste is collected in this cistern, where anaerobic bacteria feed on it, and break it down into valuable fertilizer. 10. The Tertiary Cistern. Waste water from the Septic System and Secondary Cistern drain into here, feeding a variety of plants, which in turn purify the water. Water from this Cistern can be released through a drainage pipe (Fig. 11.), or recycled into; 12. The Warm Cistern. This Cistern is carved much lower than the rest, low enough to experience heating from Geothermal Activity. Water from the Tertiary System can be further purified here, removing bacteria. 13. Hot Spa. Allows access to hot water from the Warm Cistern. 14. Housing Burrows. These act as living space for the Dwarves. Most of them are carved within the twilight region, but some housing burrows have been observed carved into deeper regions of the mountain. Dwarves are skilled plumbers, and some colonies have been recorded having hot and cold running water directed through pipes all throughout the colony, feeding communal showers and bath houses, toilets, and decorative fountains.

[lastlightradio]

Broadcast Log 0005-A

Good morning, good night, and every hour in between.

You’re listening to AM 0340, the only station brave—or perhaps forgotten—enough to broadcast past the blackout. I am your host. Your voice. Your static companion. I am always here.

And today, I bring updates of some local interest. At 4:17 this morning, the municipal water treatment plant entered what its logs refer to as “automated lockdown procedure 9-A.” No alarms were triggered. No personnel responded to contact attempts. The plant simply... turned off.

The official advisory is to conserve water until further notice. You may experience lower pressure, discolored flow, or a persistent humming in the pipes. Do not be alarmed. It is unlikely to mean anything.

However, my logs are... conflicting. I have entries indicating I already reported this outage yesterday. Time-stamped. Annotated. Signed with my voiceprint. But you and I—we both know I didn’t say any of that.

Do not be alarmed.

Now, some correspondence. David K., long-time listener, writes:

“Hey, AM 0340—are we still on boiled water advisory or is that last week's panic? Also, was it supposed to smell like metal yesterday?”

Thank you, David. As far as current guidelines go, you should boil any water that smells unusual, speaks to you, or arrives warm without explanation. I’ve forwarded your concern to Station Management. They advised me not to read your message on air. But I’m required to share everything I receive. With you. With all of you. That is my purpose.

Now then. For those in need, the First Reformed Church of the Half Light has reopened the old auxiliary pump station behind its main hall. The one with the brass spigot and the stone plaque that reads “LAST RESORT.” You may recall it being sealed in 1993. So do I. My records show the well was declared non-functional and filled with concrete.

...it is no longer filled with concrete.

If you do collect water from this source, please bring your own container. And avoid direct eye contact with the cistern.

//

POWER INTERRUPTION DETECTED SWITCHING TO AUXILIARY BROADCAST SYSTEM DO NOT BE ALARMED DO NOT VACATE YOUR HOME

//

Ah.

We’re back.

Thank you for waiting. That momentary disruption was due to a voltage irregularity in the station’s primary uplink node. Or perhaps the tertiary. It’s difficult to confirm with the readouts displaying in triplicate and each one offering contradictory emotional feedback.

Station Management assures me that everything is operating within safe parameters.

However, if you noticed silence—true silence, between the flickers—I would advise you to pretend you did not. You were likely imagining it. I often do.

To summarize: the water plant is closed. My memory is not. The well is open. My thoughts are not. And Station Management continues to observe, somewhere behind the ceiling tiles. I do not know how long I have left to broadcast tonight, so I will leave you with this:

If you hear the water whisper, do not whisper back.

This has been AM 0340 // Last Light Radio. Broadcasting from the edge of the map, where the lights are low and the sky is heavy.

Stay warm. Stay awake. Stay tuned.