#that failed owa

[idyllic-idioms]

hangman page is such a cringefail character in a way that is deeply personal and important to me

[filurig]

– this whole - the dancing, singing, pole...raising. it is all rather ridiculous... 'midsummer'. i fail to... see the point of this human... invention. for once.

arvo's words were slurred, uneven - as if merely letting them past his lips was a great effort... this was, no doubt, influenced by the drink in his hand, resting on his stomach. folke, who had, in fact, brewed the alcohol that they were drinking, giggled - not exactly sober himself.

– i'm... the only human here, arvo. remember...

– no kraksi, or crakam, in sartrill, raises a huge, leafy pole for long summer days, that much i know.

– okay, haha - the pole thing... the pole thing is entirely human, probably. but... gullmar - tomtar, celebrate 'solvarvir' around the same time... trolls celebrate, uh... oh, curses, i'll butcher it... 'rawr - owa'... rawrr - oh wra? rawr... haha!

arvo opened one of his eyes slowly, fighting against some kind of weight that has, somehow, been set upon them - in order to look at the human beside him, still struggling to pronounce the foreign word correctly. a corner of the basilisk's lips twitched upwards.

– hm. nevermind what i said. there is a certain element of entertainment present, i suppose...

[crabscrabscrabs]

My inevitably unread post about tattoos and dialect has led me to want type out some things about the way I talk (I debated recording them, if someone really asks I will but I don't get asks so it's fine),

"You really shouldn't be playing out so late" "Eya man, dinnit be out so late!"

"How are the children doing" "'ows the bairns"

I can not believe my team failed to win the season" "Ne way, I cannit fucking tak it ne more losing a season again"

"I think the area could use some renovation so really improve tourism" "Fucking shithole here like, but I hope they dinnit make it tourist hotspot, will be full of southern cunts,"

"Excuse me? Do you have the time? Thank you" "Eya! mate, d'ya got the time? Cheers marrra"

"My ball went over the fence and the man won't return it until tomorrow" "Fkn ball flew owa the dudes fence and the daft cunt winnit give it back"

And finally we use Cunt a lot, I know Americans hate it especially and I've got in trouble with people here, but Cunt is both genderless and can be a verb here, I'm always saying wheres my cunting phone, or asking my brother how "he was doing you daft cunt."

[xtruss]

War Criminal U.S., Not ‘The Terrorist War Criminal Zionist 🐖 Isra-hell’, Shot Down Most Iran Drones And Missiles

American Forces Did Most of the Heavy Lifting Responding to Iran’s Retaliation for the Attack on Its Embassy in Damascus, Syria.

— Ken Klippenstein, Daniel Boguslaw | April 15 2024

An Iranian ballistic missile lays in an empty field in the Soran district of Erbil, Iraq, after Tehran’s retaliatory strike on Terrorist War Criminal 🐖 Isra-hell, on April 14, 2024. As many as half of all weapons shot by Iran had technical failures, according to U.S. intelligence. Photo: Stringer/Anadolu via Getty Images

The War Criminal United States shot down more drones and missiles than Israel did on Saturday night during Iran’s attack, The Intercept can report.

More than half of Iran’s weapons were destroyed by U.S. aircraft and missiles before they ever reached Israel. In fact, by commanding a multinational air defense operation and scrambling American fighter jets, this was a U.S. military triumph.

The extent of the U.S. military operation is unbeknownst to the American public, but the Pentagon coordinated a multination, regionwide defense extending from northern Iraq to the southern Persian Gulf on Saturday. During the operation, the U.S., U.K., France, and Jordan all shot down the majority of Iranian drones and missiles. In fact, where U.S. aircraft originated from has not been officially announced, an omission that has been repeated by the mainstream media. Additionally, the role of Saudi Arabia is unclear, both as a base for the United States and in terms of any actions by the Saudi military.

In calculating the size of Iran’s attack and the overwhelming role of the United States, U.S. military sources say that the preliminary estimate is that half of Iran’s weapons experienced technical failures of some sort.

“U.S. intelligence estimates that half of the weapons fired by Iran failed upon launch or in flight due to technical issues,” a U.S. Air Force senior officer told The Intercept. Of the remaining 160 or so, the U.S. shot down the majority, the officer said. The officer was granted anonymity to speak about sensitive operational matters.

Asked to comment on the United States shooting down half of Iran’s drones and missiles,” the Terrorist, War Criminal and Zionist 🐖 🐷 🐗’s Illegal Regime of Isra-hell Defense Forces and the White House National Security Council” did not respond at the time of publication. The Pentagon referred The Intercept to U.S. Central Command, which pointed to a press release saying CENTCOM forces supported by U.S. European Command destroyers “successfully engaged and destroyed more than 80 one-way attack uncrewed aerial vehicles (OWA UAV) and at least six ballistic missiles intended to strike Israel from Iran and Yemen.”

Terrorist War Criminal Zionist 🐖 Isra-hell says that more than 330 drones, low-flying cruise missiles, and ballistic missiles were launched by Iran, including some 30 Paveh-type cruise missiles, 180 or so Shahed drones, and 120 Emad intermediate-range ballistic missiles, as well as other types of weapons. All of the drones and cruise missiles were launched from Iranian territory, Israel says. Some additional missiles were also launched from inside Yemen, according to IDF data.

Most media reports say that none of the cruise missiles or drones ever entered “Terrorist, War Criminal, Zionist 🐖 🐷 🐗’s Illegal Regime of Isra-helli airspace.” According to a statement by IDF spokesperson Adm. Daniel Hagari, some 25 cruise missiles “were intercepted by IAF [Israeli Air Force] fighter jets outside the country’s borders,” most likely over Jordanian territory.

Terrorist, War Criminal and Zionist 🐖 🐷 🐗’s Illegal Regime of Isra-hell’s statement that it shot down the majority of Iranian “cruise missiles” is probably an exaggeration. According to U.S. military sources and preliminary reporting, U.S. and allied aircraft shot down the majority of drones and cruise missiles. U.K. Prime Minister Rishi Sunak said that the Royal Air Force Typhoons intercepted “a number” of Iranian weapons over Iraqi and Syrian airspace.

The Jordanian government has also hinted that its aircraft downed some Iranian weapons. “We will intercept every drone or missile that violates Jordan’s airspace to avert any danger. Anything posing a threat to Jordan and the security of Jordanians, we will confront it with all our capabilities and resources,” Jordan’s Foreign Minister Ayman Safadi said during an interview on the Al-Mamlaka news channel.

French fighters also shot down some drones and possibly cruise missiles.

U.S. aircraft, however, shot down “more than” 80 Iranian weapons, according to U.S. military sources. President Joe Biden spoke with members of two F-15E Strike Eagle aircraft squadrons to “commend them for their exceptional airmanship and skill in defending Terrorist, War Criminal and Zionist 🐖 🐷 🐗’s Illegal Regime of Isra-hell from an unprecedented aerial attack by Iran.” Two F-15 squadrons — the 494th Fighter Squadron based at Royal Air Force Lakenheath in the United Kingdom, and the 335th Fighter Squadron from Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in North Carolina — are forward deployed to the Middle East, at least half of the planes at Muwaffaq Salti Air Base in Jordan.

Two U.S. warships stationed in the Mediterranean — the USS Carney (DDG 64) and the USS Arleigh Burke (DDG 51) — shot down at least six ballistic missiles, the Pentagon says. The War Zone is reporting that those ships may have fired Standard Missile 3 (SM-3) interceptors in combat for the first time. A U.S. Army Patriot surface-to-air missile battery in Erbil, Iraq, shot down at least one ballistic missile. Wreckage of an Iranian missile was also found outside Erbil, as well as in an open area outside the province of Najaf.

Iran’s attack marks the first time since 1991 that a nation state has attacked Israel directly. Contending with extremely long distances and utilizing scores of decoys and swarm tactics to attempt to overwhelm Middle East air defenses, Iran managed to hit two military targets on the ground in Israel, including Nevatim Air Base. According to the IDF, five missiles hit Nevatim Air Base and four hit another base. Despite the low number of munitions successfully landing, the dramatic spectacle of hundreds of rockets streaking across the night sky in Syria, Iraq, and Iran has left Tehran contented with its show of force.

Iran “has achieved all its goals, and in our view the operation has ended, and we do not intend to continue,” Mohammad Bagheri, chief of staff of the Iranian armed forces, said over the weekend. Still, he cautioned, “If the Zionist regime or its supporters demonstrate reckless behavior, they will receive a decisive and much stronger response.”

The U.S. coordinated the overall operation from the Combined Air Operations Center at Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar, where the overall commander was Lt. Gen. Alexus G. Grynkewich, the air commander of CENTCOM. “We take whatever assets we have that are in theater … under our tactical control or in a direct support role across the joint force and the coalition, and we stitch them together so that we can synchronize the fires and effects when we get into that air defense fight,” Grynkewich told Air & Space Forces Magazine after the Iran attack. “We’re trying to stitch together partners in the region who share a perspective of a threat, share concern of the threats to stability in the region — which primarily emanate from Iran with a large number of ballistic missiles — and be in a position where we’re able to share information, share threat warning. And the ultimate goal is to get to a much deeper and fuller integration. We’ve made tremendous progress.”

In a call immediately following Iran’s attack, Biden reportedly told Isra-helli Terrorist Zionist 🐖 Prime Minister Benjamin Satan-Yahu that “The Terrorist, War Criminal and Zionist 🐖 🐷 🐗’s Illegal Regime of Isra-hell really came out far ahead in this exchange” and warned of the “risks of escalation” — as if that hadn’t already happened.

[thisisreallyawkward]

Can they not have someone kick out of the OWA.

Like, I know it is Kenny who kicked out of it. But it is still so frustrating. It happened at Full Gear, and I didn't like it but excused as it was Hangman, but stil I didn't like it.

But now, Ospreay, really?

And he kicked out at one to recreate the Revolution spot. But the Revolution spot with him kicking out at 1 and punching the mat in frustration made sense in that story. The Bucks using the Golden Lovers' move as a taunt, that kickout made sense then. This felt like a cheap rehash. I am sorry.

I am sorry, I know I am nitpicking, but if you need to rehash past spots to artificially create moments you are failing somewhere.

[bitsmmorg]

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016 manual#

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016 android#

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016 free#

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016 windows#

How do I get rid of this cryptic name? How can I adjust that my Strato address the standard is always umgehflickt stumble into the existing system. I have to handshake in the outgoing and my alias selected in ? Here, the alias address must endlook otherwise it works IMap with a Strato account for email communication. Question: Outlook 2016 issues with calendar synchronization with and with the cryptic dargest If I liked to add the Microsoft account in Outlook over the express establishment, also here I enter the password.

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016 windows#

Any email address is sent to a different e-mail address than my above A2) The Windows login information is queried (user account control), to manage this should not be a problem in my opinion. Now I have first deleted all entries in the Windows credentials management in order to A4) Outlook starts and shows the following error message: The subject: "Link Outlook 2016/2013 back to so that you can continue to access e-mails". There is a thread here () that seems to have a similar problem, ideas? The background is that I like to use (which I use on several devices).

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016 manual#

When I use the manual setup, the following happens:ī1) I choose the account type Exchange is a success message. However, because Outlook should be able to match multiple accounts name does not match any name in the address list. This is true because the cause seems to have been in bad configurations of the user's private domain. One more idea: I'm using Office 365, which, jaytar Question: Connecting my account to Outlook 2016 fails: Link Outlook 2016 / Out The error message then is that it does not have the required permissions for it: where the shared calendar and appointments are also displayed.īoth accounts are create, edit and delete synonymous. Has worked as far as synonymous and when they share with Calendar and grant the permission Here's the problem: She uses Outlook 2016, her account on logs in, everything works very well. You can set there appointments of the receiving live ID and editing - unfortunately, without success.Īgain, switched to /owa/. Then I created a new user there with the name send etc."ĭoes anyone have a good tip in advance for it! Unfortunately, I have the whole thing without success. But it cannot "You do not have the authorization to create an entry in this folder. Right-click the link on the folder and then click Properties.Ĭreate or edit appointments. On the other hand, you must have the corresponding approval in your MS account. To check the permissions for the folder, click for me, what could be the reason? Thank you with trying a newly created secondary calendar. Question: : Shared calendar can only be edited online & not Outlook 2016

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016 free#

I use the free Hotmail service help! On Android, I use the Gmail app, the setup. What do we need to synchronize the folder hierarchy. Outlook has to work properly in the background? I already have the settings on on the internet the mobile server. Interestingly enough, however, the 3219 worked today. To access my mails (address with own domain). Which server settings are in Outlook 2010 or An error occurred in looking up the user's information in mserv.

Office 365 calendar not syncing with outlook 2016 android#

There works and Android smartphone) - Problems with the email, calendar and contacts synchronization. Error in device removed, the device switched off, waited briefly, switched on again and synchronized again.Įrror: Thank you. (0x8004102A) when executing the task "(email address removed)": "Error during transmission. Make sync the sync !! Since the Outlook server migration this problem has appeared on all mobile devices (laptops changed the setting on. Mobile completely immobilized for weeks! We are 2 calendar, also with own Doman address as Windows Mail address. Another user has change access to my and my Outlook / Windows email address is one with its own domain. Question: Outlook Sync Problems with mobile devices (Android Smartphone, Laptops Outlook 2010) since Outlook Se

[justvalues]

Microsoft lync logos

To access the Recording Manager, click Tools on the main Lync window, and then click Recording Manager. You can also rename or delete your recordings. Use the Lync Recording Manager to play your recordings, browse to the location you saved them, or publish with selected options for others to view. If problem persists, notify your organization’s support team with the event details.Lync 2013 for Office 365 Lync 2013 for Office 365 operated by 21Vianet Lync 2013 More. Validate Lync to Exchange Autodiscovery configuration by following the trouble shooting guide. Check that proxy setting is properly configured and reachable. Check autodiscovery Uri is properly configured and reachable. > : The remote server returned an error: (401) Unauthorized.Īt ()Īt .()Īt .AutodiscoverRequest.InternalExecute()Īt .AutodiscoverService.InternalGetUserSettings(List`1 smtpAddresses, List`1 settings, Nullable`1 requestedVersion, Uri& autodiscoverUrl)Īt .AutodiscoverService.GetSettings(List`1 identities, List`1 settings, Nullable`1 requestedVersion, GetSettingsMethod`2 getSettingsMethod, Func`1 getDomainMethod)Īt .AutodiscoverService.GetUserSettings(List`1 smtpAddresses, List`1 settings)Īt .AutodiscoverService.InternalGetSoapUserSettings(String smtpAddress, List`1 requestedSettings)Īt .AutodiscoverService.GetUserSettings(String userSmtpAddress, UserSettingName userSettingNames)Īt .(StoreContext ctx, String smtpAddress)Īt .(StoreContext ctx, String smtpAddress, CacheMode cacheMode)Ĭause: Autodiscovery Uri was not correctly configured or unreachable, that there is a problem with the Proxy, or other errors.Ĭheck event details. The remote server returned an error: (401) Unauthorized. UnsupportedStoreException: code=ErrorIncorrectExchangeServerVersion, reason=GetUserSettings failed, Autodiscover Uri=, Autodiscover WebProxy= -> .ServiceRequestException: The request failed. Storage Service had an EWS Autodiscovery failure. If the problem persists contact product support. Please look through the exception details for more information. (0x8007203A): The server is not operational.Īt .ThrowSoapFault(Exception e)Īt .QueryADGetDistributionListInfo(String mail, DirectorySearcher dSearcher)Īt .ProcessADRequest(Guid userTenantId, Guid userGroupingId, String key, DlxGroup& result)Īt .ExpandDistributionList(String groupMailAddress)Īt SyncInvokeExpandDistributionList(Object, Object, Object )Īt .Invoke(Object instance, Object inputs, Object& outputs)Īt .InvokeBegin(MessageRpc& rpc)Īt .ProcessMessage5(MessageRpc& rpc)Īt .ProcessMessage31(MessageRpc& rpc)Īt .Process(Boolean isOperationContextSet)Ĭause: Application error. So the issue was that IIS was unable to process the requests it was getting from clients that needed to relay information from exchange through the front end.īelow are the specific logs: (Client specific information removed)Īn unhandled exception was encountered in Service service.Įxception Details. I restarted IIS on the Lync Front End Server, and immediately the issue was resolved for all users. Since the URI is a webpage, I started moving toward IIS being the issue. Since I could connect with no problems to OWA on the exchange server, and auto discover testing came back fine with Exchange, the problem must be within the Front End server. Looking at the “Cause” of the issue was telling me this is an application error (4096) and its something to do with the URI within autodiscovery (32054). In the event viewer > Applications and Services Logs > Lync Server the event ID 404 was all over. Next I moved over to the Front End server for Lync. Now you know what server to start looking into. The first 2 lines will tell you where the Distribution Group URL is at for both internal and external. In the system tray, Right click on the Skype for Business client while holding down the Ctrl key, click configuration information. Now what to do about it? Next are the steps that I took to eventually find the root issue and correct it.įirst things first, we need to know what the client is connecting to. There was no rhyme or reason if it did or did not work. Eventually throughout the day it may finally populate or may not. Recently I had a client that had several users unable to expand a Distribution Group in Microsoft Lync 2013.

[darkesttimelinejeffparker]

Just wanted to drop in and say hi!

Do you have any favorite G1 matches from the past few weeks?

Man, I have loved so many of the G1 matches. The final match was excellent, Okada and Ospreay did a hell of a job and I loved the storytelling in there.

You know me I am a sucker for a narrative so the matches I was most looking forward to were probably Naito v ZSJ, David Finlay vs Juice Robinson, and obviously Tama vs Jay. And then once David took the belt from Juice for “safekeeping,” Will’s match with both were great. Really excited for what these all set up, including future title matches and stories.

I really loved seeing Lance in front of the NJPW crowd, too. He seemed so happy.

[ask-the-chaos-creation-crew]

so fun question but what is each au's biggest fear or just regular fear and if the mods wants what are their fears?

Under the cut!

Bliss: Dying (specifically because my friends wouldn't know where I went)

Alex: Tight spaces, being useless

Gala: Being in the woods at night

Serenity: N/A

X: Not a fear, but really dislikes loud noises

Remus: The Kool-Aid Man Getting chased

Cy Felix: Water

Glitchmin: Failing

Worm: Starving

Cy Wilson: The CCC(b)

CTWOU: His own emotions Being forgotten by those he knows personally

Tyrant: Losing his power and being alone

Teen: Losing his family

Horror: Hurting others and losing his loved ones

Alien: His own intelligence

Android: Nothing

Toppat Dmitri: Losing his husband and kids

Vampire Reginald: Grigori

Dad Terrence: Heights

RHMG!Galeforce: The idea that everything he's done will be all for naught

RHMG!V: Spiders

RHMG!Charles: His Galeforce and Dr V, and the idea that they'll "expand their army"

Copper and Green: Being alone and fireworks (loud noises)

Roo: Stairs

Best Friend Reggie: Losing Gak, but he'd never admit to that

Gak: ? Jesse just said "is a child"

Vision: Abandonment

Kid: Thunder

Sam: Bees

RP!Charles: Being useless

RP!Henry: Hurting others

RP!Ellie: Putting effort in only for it to be worth nothing, spiders

Jimmy: Bees

Mini-mod Pastel: Heights

Lizard RHM: Forgetting things

Toast: Revenged Toast

Revenged Toast: Being erased from existence

OWA: Abandonment, medical equipment

[omgkalyppso]

It's 1 AM — happy belated birthday Owain! I wrote some owainigo / laslodin ? Intended as being able to be read as an S support for Laslow and Odin. Written to recognize Inigo as bisexual and polyamorous and Owain as a trans man. Vague about Owain's sexuality because he currently has his sights on Inigo only.

.

It had been a long time since Laslow had felt like dancing; even recently, he’d wondered if he’d ever want to again, when they’d fallen into Valla and all hope had seemed lost. Yet when Xander had ordered he and Peri enjoy themselves this eve, he’d had a week for his dancer’s garb to be refitted — the clothes he’d arrived in — now matching a soldier’s girth and shoulders. He was not the spritely lad of years past, and wondered whether he looked like a fool.

In the least, the steps were as familiar as breathing, and the melody of the drums was known to his heart, even if the tune wasn’t the same.

His mother — his birth mother, whom he’d only known for such a short time, so much of her dancing was made for battle: relief in victory, love in anticipation, heart in loss. She remembered music of happier times, but those dances hadn’t translated into his tiny feet, so used to the sound of war drums.

He found his dancing riled the spirits of some, who watched or tapped a foot, mimicking a step or two, and Laslow felt further from them than he ever had before.

They were going home. He was going home.

This crowd would only be a memory.

.

He wondered where he would find himself: would it really be the world left in relative peace where Grima lay sleeping? Or would his intent send him spiraling far and away to the land of memory, nightmares and blight? Would Owain even wish to leave Nohr? It suited Odin Dark so naturally. He seemed happier as a mage, and through magic, his own and discovered, Owain had even managed to mold his chest into a form that brought him joy and comfort.

Inigo wondered whether Owain would hold any apprehension in sharing this version of himself with old friends and family.

Some would say Owain had no understanding of shame or embarrassment, but they’d never read his stories aloud, or seen him as a young bashful man who knew little and less of how to present himself. Still, Owain had grown, had carved himself and the world around him in ways that had secured their victories as of late.

Inigo knew that it was his own insecurities over returning that truly alarmed him.

Meanwhile Severa knew what she wanted. She always had. Her heart might be large enough to reserve pieces for all who showed her kindness and some manner of discipline, but she could never stay away from Morgan and her parents. Her home was known and waiting.

.

The song ended and he shared a soft laugh with his liege, a man whose trust and generosity he was on the cusp of betraying.

.

Public celebrations were a favorite of Owain’s. He had learned to handle a crowd, and could often find a group or three to regale with tales of victory, honor and suspense. There were jeers at times, but less when the people were joyous and relieved. Perhaps not all understood the challenges that had weighed upon their liege lords and borders, or their fabric of reality, but they knew strife, and wanted to believe it could be felled by a hero — why shouldn’t he be that.

He’d been shouting over the music for so long, that he’d nearly missed Elise’s voice marveling excitedly, “Hey! Did you know about this? He told me his dancing was a secret.”

While the Xander hushed his sister and they chittered on in silence, Odin Dark also fumbled in his tale, glancing, for a moment, to where Laslow spun daggered discs on his wrists. Owain might have trailed off entirely, and taken the time to watch as much of the performance as possible, whether to jeer or jest or compliment, but Odin had an audience, people who would think him missing or worse in the weeks to come, and so he dove back into an embellishment of the beasts they had defeated. He could watch Inigo dance again. He was sure of it.

.

The tents were relatively empty when the witching hour came to pass. The masses had retreated to the castles and campgrounds, manor houses and taverns where guests and guards were making due. A flutist was speaking with Laslow, a dancer by his side, correcting his posture, of all things. Owain sat on the edge of a fountain, and watched until his friend noticed, as Laslow turned away, red in his cheeks and upon his neck. He stopped their performance swiftly, seemingly assuring the dancer that he would remember to practice. It put a pinch in Owain’s brow, mournful that he’d spurred his friend toward another broken promise.

“You were watching then?” asked Laslow, spinning a ribbing at his side through his hoops so that they would lay at his hip, jingling.

“Even those whose ears I captivated with tales from the saga of Odin Dark, could look nowhere else!” He chuckled as Laslow sat by his side, shifting slightly, as the costume left little protection against the cool damp stone of the fountain. “If only you’d told me, we might have coordinated our performance!”

“I’d make a poor archrival then,” Laslow teased. “If I weren’t stealing your audience.” He stretched, and Odin watched how the bulge of his belly and triceps marked Laslow for his latest manner of fighting — reserved, sturdy, and strong. “And still, not one enraptured lady to request an encore, nor a single suitor to waylay my evening with a flower or three.”

“Only me,” Odin said mournfully, shaking his head.

“Only you,” Laslow agreed, smirking, and he saw how tired Owain was then, and hoped it was his performance, regaling the public with magic and mystery, but he knew it was the war, the ever present ones they’d fought through. He wondered if he would ever feel so comfortable as to compliment his friend, the growing wrinkles at his eyes, the stubble of his beard, the mouthwatering line of muscle revealed by his boastful outfit. He licked his lips. “My vexatious tormentor. Are you headed to sleep?”

Owain saw that the question had two answers. The first was an affirmative, though he would go to his room and stare at the ceiling, perhaps retreat to the library and spend his last few hours in this realm reading more and more of foreign magic as their time grew short. The second was a negative, and perhaps he and Laslow could find somewhere that drink still flowed, and they could pretend to lose themselves in tankards while he made a show of failing to find them dates and he either made a friend of the barman or annoyed him until they were both ejected into the night. However, something inside him overflowed, and Owain found himself seeking to fight the beasts of trepidation and consideration — perhaps he had already won, and it was their blood that had filled him with their ferocious candor as he asked, “Do you know I’m in love with you?”

Laslow’s eyes blinked wide, lashes casting a flickering shadow across his cheekbones.

“Owa—Odin,” he objected. “You can’t—” He huffed, frustrated, taking to his feet. “We fight against each other with every step.” He hid his eyes in his hands and then slowly adjusted his head as he admitted aloud, “I fight against commitment with every breath.”

“When do we not fight towards a common goal — against the forces of darkness, together?” Owain asked with a small smile, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the insides of his spread knees. “My confession need not change anything between us, it certainly doesn’t mean to change anything about you. My affection has grown even as you’ve found joy and rejection with your strings of lovers. And I’ve found that I can love you — that I do,” he swallowed, “love you. I’m saying it too much now.”

“There is nothing consistent in our lives,” Inigo said, sad and distressed. He wrapped his right arm around himself, squeezing at a shoulder, too muscled to feel right going back into his old life, too scarred to hope that wherever they found themselves in two days time that there would be the peace and family he’d hoped for. “I have gone days feeling as though everything around me is temporary, and others believing that this is what is real and it is me who doesn’t belong. We nearly failed. We—”

He hesitated as Owain stood before him, reaching out carefully to take hold of either of his elbows.

“We didn’t,” Owain said, calm and sure.

Time passed. Neither man could say how much. Patiently, Owain did not force an embrace, but he did rest his temple against Inigo’s, rocking his face towards him as he whispered, “And you’ve had some consistencies in your life. And me in mine.”

He waited longer, breathing deeply while his friend calmed in his arms, and then Inigo was lifting his left hand up to Owain’s hip and the mage smiled, letting his hands creep around the small of Inigo’s back, locking them together. “If I declared that I would dedicate my life to you, very little would change … and I think that’s very telling.”

“I feel good, with you,” Inigo murmured, tucking his face into the curve of Owain’s neck, “but my trysts don’t last and you—” he bit his lips, and as they rolled back into place he felt them pout against Owain’s skin, almost a kiss, “you’re too important for me to risk in a bout of bad behavior.”

Owain snickered. “Are you asking me to make sure you don’t grow bored? I think no matter what awaits us after tomorrow, I can promise it will be interesting.” He tossed his head back, and smiled wider as Inigo admired him; it was a wonderfully new feeling. “Do you think Odin Dark would settle for less? That the tale of the Avengers of Righteous Justice would end here?”

“Avengers?” Inigo repeated, pulling away from the embrace.

“I don’t forget my friends,” Owain assured him, but Inigo continued.

“And, really, I rather hoped that my tale might end. In some manner of the word… I want to rest. I want to feel the relief that these people felt, that our parents felt when their journey was over. To find a stage to dance upon, perhaps a student to apprentice while I’m still young enough to perform.”

“Then we will find it,” Owain said with conviction, his hands on Inigo’s shoulders. “A place where Selena can be a tired old general, or an extension of nobility, where our friends are close, and our families closer still, and where I study all the magic that has ever beset us with worry — that of gods, and dragons, and travel between realms—”

“Is this why you sought to be a mage?” Inigo balked, holding the dips at Owain’s elbows.

“All to keep us safe,” Owain said cryptically, blue eyes flickering with withheld words. “I will work tirelessly to make that peaceful realm you dream of, friend.”

“I can’t expect you to vanquish evil on your own,” Inigo said, a measure of wonder on his face. A puff of air passed his lips, joy and shock and hope twisting his lips first in a frown and then in a smile. “Very well then. Together, this time. We’ll start this tale together, as we’ve always been.”

“Then—?” Owain prompted, hopeful.

“Of course,” Inigo assured him, pulling himself into Owain’s space again, this time to plant a kiss on his warm lips. “I’ve loved you too. You need only look to your side — if you truly wish to take me as I am … then you will always find me here.”

[askstickmin-magicau]

What magic does the rest of the stickmin cast possess?

//*inhale* oh, wait, this actually more difficult to answer. Hold on...

Before I begin, I need to remind some things. So, the way this alternative universe goes, it's basically follows the same canon as the games. The difference is the setting where everything supernatural or something that doesn't follow the natural order is explained by literal magic. And at the same time, magic is explained by "runes" and "gifts"(as i mentioned in this post).

If we follow the canon of the game, almost everybody uses some kind of weapon, mostly guns. So for the sake of this universe, guns are designed with different bullet "runes". The police use often "paralyzing bullet runes" but if the situation goes south, they are allowed to use "offensive runes".

Now here is when things go complicated. As I mentioned in previous posts, "gifts" are the energy source that allow individuals use their specific type of powers as they want. In the canon games only few characters have some kind of special powers.

So here is the list for now.

As we all now, Henry has the power of "time manipulation" , meaning he is able go back and forth in a selected point in his life. Every time he "fails" he can access a "time map" (just like the ones in the game) and try another option.

For Ellie, although I know she has the option of "The Force" in "Fleeing the Complex", I decided to assign her the power know as "Potential Force Manipulation".

So, according to the wiki, "Potential Force Manipulation" is the power that the user can draw out and manipulate the full potential force of any/all items/objects, allowing them to utilize the maximum possible ability attainable for anything they use.

While I was researching for the power she would have in this universe, I could've just put "telekinesis" and called a day. But here's another interesting thing! Because of the "user rune" his bag has, only Henry can use the items that spawn. Ellie has a free pass because of her ability of "potential force manipulation". (Also, that option when she uses "The Force" is a "rune of gravity")

Moving for the secondary characters, we have the Toppat Clan.

I was thinking giving Reginal (even tho he doesn't have any supernatural ability) but, as it seen in the game, he has cowerdlike personality. The only "power" he got is the ability to convince other people to take his side.

Right Hand Man, on the other hand, could be an interesting pick but I decided to not give him any sort of powers. At least, not at the beginning.

Instead, depending on the path, his body is replaced by cybernetic enhancements that are powered by "artificial gifts" that allows him to change shape and transform his arm into different weapons.

Speaking of "artificial gifts", Dr. Vinschpinsilstien (Dr. V for short) is a specialist in that kind of "runes"

Yes I know she is a minor character but she also have the major impact in the "Revenged" path. Also the fandom seems to really like her so I decided to include her.

As a doctor, she has the ability of blood bending, which allows her to operate with the cybernetic surgery more easily.

The rest are background characters with little relevance for the story but here some anyway.

There are some metal benders in the military as well "rune" smiths, whose job are to provide soldiers with durable weapons and other tech. Same goes with the Toppat recruits.

Some of the guards in the Wall are earth benders as seen in "Fleeing the Complex".

Central for Chaos Control have seers in their organization. That's how they are able to predict every outcome in "Stealing the Diamond", "Infiltrating the Airship" and "Completing the Mission" and get the canonical endings.

And this is what I have for now. Hopefully I will expand the explanation a bit further in other asks.

(Wow, this owas a bit more hard to respond. I had to double check while I was making up stuff on the fly and make sense at the same time. Also, you probably already noticed but I used a lot of bending-like powers, I'm sorry, but I'm a sucker for Avatar lore.)

[kemetic-dreams]

Christianity in Africa Jesus in the Morning, Voodoo in the Evening

The old natural religions continue to thrive in Africa. While Christianity and Islam vie for supremacy in many countries, they have failed to banish the rain gods and spirits south of the Sahara. Frequently the pagan rites have fused with a faith in Jesus Christ.

Six men in flowing white robes stride across the square in Maryal Bai. One village elder, his features gnarled, is wearing a leopard-skin hat. Akoon Duong is a priest, as are his five companions. To demonstrate his spiritual power the old man brandishes an elaborately carved spear, as do the other "spear masters" - the high priests of pagan nature worship. Akoon Duong has inherited these trappings of power from his grandfather, who in turn had received them from his own grandfather.

The men thrust their spears into the muddy ground and dance. One of them pounds out the beat on a bush drum. Scrawny arms flail upward, quivering in ecstasy. They render their songs in high, reedy voices. If there were a drought, they would have had to invoke Deng, the rain god. But this is the wet season; malaria can strike at any time, so they pray for deliverance from disease.

Maryal Bai is in southern Sudan, 15 miles from the no-go area between the Islamic government's militias and the guerrillas of the Sudan People's Liberation Army (SPLA). The village was the demarcation line for the recently ended North-South war and the escalating conflict in Darfur.

Just a few miles to the north, Sharia law - with its punishments extending from whipping to dismemberment - prevails. The South is mainly inhabited by Christians. For decades the region has been ravaged by fighting. Usually over matters of faith.

Camped along the majestic Gazelle River are thousands of refugees, the sableskinned, long-legged people of the Dinka tribe. Once they had fled to Darfur from the war in the South; now they are returning to the lands of their ancestors.

Time has stood still

The clash of civilizations and religions, the focus of so much debate in Europe and America, can be witnessed firsthand here in Africa. And today Maryal Bai is one of its many fronts. Islamic Fundamentalism is advancing from the west, penetrating all the way to the continent's eastern reaches. In some regions it collides head-on with an equally aggressive brand of Christianity. The clashes are becoming increasingly bitter because the desert is expanding, bringing more poverty in its wake. According to Georg Brunold, a Swiss expert on African affairs, a front line is crystallizing here that will spark "decades of war." Yet, as hard as the two great monotheistic faiths have struggled for supremacy, they have failed to wrest power from priests like Akoon Duong. With its nature deities, the old African mythology is often the only stabilizing force in a world full of suffering, displacement and death, where everything is in constant flux but rarely changes for the better, where - in many respects - time has stood still. This is a world populated by nymphs and sirens, by elfin spirits, sun and moon gods, and by animal deities such as cows, stags, lambs and calves. At the end of the 19th century, the British ethnologist Edward Burnett Tylor coined the term animism (the Latin word anima means soul or breath) to describe this pantheon, correctly assuming that plants, animals and objects also have souls in the minds of these "primitive peoples."

Cult of the dead

Despite the best efforts of Christian and Islamic missionaries, some 40 percent of the people in Burkina Faso, western Africa, are still considered animist. In East African Ethiopia, a largely Christian domain, the figure is still thought to be 10 percent. Yet these numbers remain pure conjecture. In truth, religious distinctions have long blurred, indeed evaporated, in Africa. Someone who attends church in the morning and the mosque at midday might easily invite a voodoo priest over in the evening to read the kola nuts.

DER SPIEGEL

Sub-Saharan Africa.

Practically everywhere the cult of the dead intermingles with Christianity, according to religious scholar Fritz Stenger from the Catholic University of East Africa in Nairobi. "There is scarcely any distinction between the secular and religious spheres; faith is omnipresent," says Stenger.

Should a child succumb to malaria, the relatives - according to Stenger - would partly blame the lack of effective medicine. However, the belief that its death was willed by God would carry greater weight. It is therefore no surprise that doctors attending to the sick often arrive with the preacher, medicine man and local sorcerer. Stenger, who has spent more than three decades in Africa, has observed this coexistence of divergent faiths throughout the so-called "Dark Continent."

In Kenya, for example, the modern minded Kikuyu, flashing cell phones and Ray-Bans, happily journey to Mount Kenya and pray to Ngai, the supreme God of the animists - despite often being members of one of the numerous Christian sects, such as the Pentecostals or the gospel churches. In this way, Stenger adds, Christianity and the pagan belief in nature deities and demons mutually impact one another. The existence of a god of creation in nearly all pre-Christian African religions encourages this process.

This cross-fertilization is not as strange as it may sound, even to Christians in the West. Something quite similar occurred there centuries ago, "when pagan Germanic customs mingled with Christian rites," says Stenger. "Even Christmas - that most traditional of Christian celebrations - has ancient Germanic roots."

In Benin City, Nigeria's "human trafficking hub," where the women from the region's slums begin their journeys to Europe's red-light districts, the path to the gods of nature runs through a backyard reeking of urine. The voodoo priest Chief John Odeh receives his flock in a white gown. His upholstered throne is trimmed with red satin. Beside him hang drums made of cowhide and the sword-like insignia of his position, known as Eben and Ada.

"Christianity has destroyed our culture. The people have lost faith in our ancient gods and values," the animist priest laments. Ape skulls, amulets and shells are laid out on the concrete floor of the adjacent garage. Figures of Ogun, the god of iron, Orunmila, the god of wisdom, and Olokun, the god of waters, adorn this unusual shrine. Osalobua, the supreme God, punishes theft swiftly and without mercy, says Odeh. And the dead hear every lie told by the living. "The pastors go to church in the morning and preach Christianity," says the voodoo priest. "And in the evening they come to me and speak with their forefathers."

AP

A woman carrying a bowl of blood in Ouidah, Benin following an animal sacrifice.

Does He approve?

Odeh shrugs his shoulders. "Christianity cannot compete with our ancestors. Your God is impotent against Shango, the god of thunder and lightning. That's why the Christian pastors in Nigeria all die so young." The voodoo priest is holding some kola nuts in his hand. He scatters them on the dusty floor and prophesies the future. His predictions are as accurate as horoscopes in the yellow press.

Odeh celebrates his masses in Otofure, a village some 20 minutes from Benin City. This, inside the tropical jungle, is the realm of Owa Oba Asoon, a weathered wooden figurine with a greenish sheen that embodies the King of the Night. The priest blows into his cow horn, the altar boys beat their drums. The ground is littered with animal skulls, fetishes - and empty liquor bottles.

As the voodoo mass begins, Odeh flourishes a chicken over his head, mumbles unintelligible incantations and pours liquor over the skulls. Then he takes a knife and cuts the bird's throat. Blood fountains in every direction, splattering onto the wooden fetishes - crudely carved figures with huge penises. More liquor is dispensed, another invocation mumbled, bringing the juju ceremony to its conclusion. Tribute has been paid and the King of the Night appeased.

Satisfied, Odeh pockets the $100 this service nets and hustles to his car. The faithful are waiting in the city. Nervously he glances at his watch, which is made of gold. His car too suggests an affluent lifestyle. "Oh well," he says disingenuously, "that's how things are nowadays. Nothing's free in life except death."

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What People Believe in: Atlas of the World's Great Religions(01/18/2007)

Monasteries in Germany: Looking for Monks and Nuns in the New Millennium (01/25/2007)

What's the Real Difference? Islam and the West (01/23/2007)

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[hotarutranslations]

Thank You for the Support!

Evening Its Ishida Ayumi

 MORNING MUSUME ’19 CONCERT TOUR SPRING ~BEST WISHES~ FINAL NIPPON BUDOKAN PERFORMANCE

  The 11 of us ran through it!!! Thank you for supporting us!!! From the opening day in Hachioji, all of the fans,

 “Do your best!!!” is what we were told through tears on that day,

 The 11 of us did our best the whole time! Ahh, its not, the 11 of us,

 With all of the fans that support us, we did our best together ❤ thank you ❤

Everyone gathered at Nippon Budokan, everyone who watched it via live viewing and live broadcast, everyone who sent us their do your best power,

 Everyone everyone everyoneee thank you ❤

 It was really fun!

 The tour was lead by the album “Best! Morning Musume 20th Anniversary” so, each song has a deep impression, therefore in order to not lose to the song, we delivered it with our own expressions,

 Therefore each song has memories,

 Lets look a bit back on it, everyone! we’ll squeeze in a few songs! I’d be happy if we sang them in particular…!

  “Resonant Blue”

With is, showing it off on the first day the cheers were really amazing, it ended up being a smiling memory! I finalllyy got to say it! Lol

 “Nanchatte Renai”

It doesn’t have relation to singing it but, it’s a song where I was stuck on sending out my expressions. I really like it.

 “Egao no Kimi wa Taiyou sa”

I’m happy as it had been a while since singing it-- ❤ ❤ ❤

In particular the “shiterya ii” part, the blue penlights rise up to match me, it made me happy!

 “Kono Chikyuu no Heiwa wo Honki de Negatterun da yo!” Hope, that is, really doing this song seriously, ah—the earth is peaceful now--! Is what I thought

 “Utakata Saturday Night!” Do it……… repeating that at the end, it always starts at random each performance, as an homage to the start of Reiwa (although we failed←)

Looking back sharply on it (Miyagi)

I did the ‘that’s nice’ dance,

Today at Nippon Budokan,

Everyone did a force blow ((hadouken..?)) with a kick!

 “The Vision”

Due to a change we didn’t dance to it at Budokan but,

The hooks lyrics “lets laugh”, I intend to say it from the highest point on the stage to the whole venue, I was dancing in it every show, I really like the lyrics.

 “Kimi no Kawari wa Iyashinai” I’m happy I danced a solo in this times version.

 “ENDLESS SKY” we’ve done it around the tour but, no matter the venue there are definitely one or more people, who I saw had tears in their eyes.

 Since it was Nippon Budokan, I saw it especially.

 “Ambitious! Yashinteki de ii jan!” (yesterday)

“Koko ni Iruzee!” (today)

 Those two songs were intensely exciting

 Owa----! The reaction from everyone, I heard you! Is what I thought when listening

 I liked it,

 I’m glad for these feelings,

 Everyone calling out,

 With Morning Musume’s history, always looking back, you can talk about it as much as you’d like, but,

 In front of you is the “now”,

This “now” isn’t something you’ve seen! With that thought,

 Calling out, we’re here!

 Everyone with the final force,

It was like, Uwa-!

 It was really an overflowingly happy space ❤

 Now I’m also somehow writing about it, I absolutely want to write about songs later! Since those are thoughts that have come out, when I realize it I’ll write a bit on it lol

  Today there is also an announcement!

 For PR for the new single release on June 12th,

 As you’ve been waiting,

 WHOLE PREFECTURE HANDSHAKE MEET

Is being held!

 I wrote that I wanted to say it but I couldn’t, this was it↑

 For 3 days, the 14th, 15th, 16th,

 Each of the members will be going across the 47 prefectures! Its our first simultaneous handshake meet across all 47 prefectures,

Being able to do it in 3 days…I’m shocked lol

 Well,

 If you’re interested here are the places!!

 Lottery Video Is Here

  14th Saitama 7:00PM~ 15th Shiga 12:30PM~ Kyoto 3:30~ Nara 7:15~ 16th Wakayama 1:30PM~ Osaka 6:45PM~

 3 days, what are your plans for that?

I’ll be waiting for your participation!

 Also,

 Maybe there were many who thought,

 Ishida Ayumi,

Her Kansai ratio is high!!! Wasn’t this my route about 2 years ago? ←

 Its amazing drawing it out of all 47, its fate

(is it common sense as Wakayama’s plums……?)

 Thank you as always Kansai!!! Alright, I’ll use false Kansai dialect!!! ←

 Also,

 Kaga Kaede-chan chose,

The route that makes 6 Tohoku stops

 Thank you!!! From now is really fun, since I was thinking and talking about it,

 Ishida route,

 Definitely come and see me!

 Your participation, since the CD’s will be sold at the venue, you can purchase them for a handshake! Is how its flowing

 If its your first time welcome

 If you’re coming again welcome

  Unconsciously Kyoto and Nara are Ishida,

Definitely come and see me again…lol

 Details are here

  Tomorrow is the play Tsubaki Factory is starring in,

 I’ll be bothering them as a guest

Uwa~ heart pounding~

 From now on thank you for supporting me!

 See you ayumin ❤

 https://ameblo.jp/morningmusume-10ki/entry-12471741218.html

[kimkimberhelen]

Annell Ponder is one of those fearless black women whose names may not be widely known but whose courage in fighting against voter suppression in Georgia and across the South in the 1960s was nothing short of extraordinary.

After graduating from Atlanta’s Clark College in 1955, Ponder, who was born in McDonough, Ga., worked as a teacher, librarian and part of an on-the-ground force of black women working against voter suppression.

That fight is being waged again in a close race for Georgia governor between Democrat Stacey Abrams, the first African American woman nominated for governor by a major political party, and Republican Brian Kemp, Georgia’s secretary of state who oversees Georgia’s election system.

Abrams has accused Kemp of voter suppression by putting more than 53,000 voter-registration applications on hold because they failed the state’s “exact match” rule, which sets aside registrations if there are minor discrepancies, even typos or missing letters, between the form and a voter’s identification. Most of those flagged voter registrations belong to African Americans, which has triggered a legal battle in the days before the election.

Black women in Georgia played significant roles in fighting voter suppression before the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965, recalled Clarissa Myrick-Harris, president and CEO of OWA Institute, a nonprofit organization based in Georgia that is dedicated to education and socioeconomic empowerment.

"She did a great deal in the field, and for sure she is someone who should be talked about,” Myrick-Harris said of Ponder. “Ponder was beaten and suffered. She is someone who needs to be focused on more.”

“It was black women in the forefront of getting the vote out, generally," said Myrick-Harris, who wrote a chapter in the book, “Southern Black Women in the Modern Civil Rights Movement." Because of a 1946 voter registration campaign led, in large measure by black women, the number of registered black voters in Georgia rose from 30,000 to 125,000, Myrick-Harris said. In Atlanta, registered black voters climbed from 3,000 to 21,000

“Black women were a force to be reckoned with in the mid 20th century and collectively helped to galvanize the limited black voting strength of African-American women and men throughout the state," Myrick-Harris said.

It was dangerous work.

Before and during the civil rights movement, hundreds of black people were fired if they tried to register to vote, and some were shot and killed driving people to register to vote.

The cadre of black women working against voter suppression included hair dressers, members of women’s clubs, auxiliary groups and teachers.

“Teachers were pillars of the community,” Myrick-Harris said. “You listened to the teacher. If the teacher said something, that was gospel.” A famed Atlanta educator named Pearlie Dove often said: “If you can reach the child, you can reach the parent. It was part of the fabric of the community.”

Ponder was one of those teachers. In 1962, after obtaining a master’s degree in social work from Atlanta University, Ponder became a field supervisor for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, joining hundreds of activists traveling the South to register black voters.

In 1963, Ponder was returning from a voter registration training workshop when she and other civil rights workers — including the activist Fannie Lou Hamer — were ordered off a bus in Mississippi.

Ponder, Hamer, June Johnson, Euvester Simpson, James West and Rosemary Freeman were taken to a Montgomery County, Miss., jail, where police began interrogating them about efforts to register black voters in the Deep South.

“When we got there, they started questioning us and one of them said something and I said, ‘Yes,’ or ‘No.’ Then he wanted to know if I had enough respect for him to say, ‘sir,’ when I answered his questions. So, I asked him what he said, and he repeated his question, using the term, ‘n-----’ to refer to me,” Ponder later wrote in an affidavit. “I told him I didn’t know him that well. He looked very angry and confused.”

The officers continued to question Ponder about the voter registration project. Then an officer hit Ponder in the head with his fist.

“They started again insisting I say, ‘sir,’ ” Ponder recalled. “Through all this conversation, they kept hitting me. The police man in a blue uniform at one point took a sort of a blackjack. . . . And from then on he used that in beating me. This went on for about ten minutes, with questioning and my being beaten to the floor and getting up and beaten down again.”

At one point a highway patrolman, Ponder wrote, “hit me in the stomach.”

Ponder, Hamer and the other activists were jailed for three days. Hamer, who suffered severe and permanent physical injuries from the beating, would later testify about the police assault before a Democratic National Committee panel.

“After I was placed in the cell,” Hamer told the DNC credentials committee in 1964. “I began to hear sounds of licks and screams, I could hear the sounds of licks and horrible screams. And I could hear somebody say, ‘Can you say, “Yes, sir,” n-----? Can you say, ‘Yes, sir’?”

Hamer recalled that police called Ponder “horrible names,” Hamer recalled. “She would say, ‘Yes, I can say, “Yes, sir.” ’ ”

“So, well, say it,” the officers ordered.

Ponder refused. “They beat her, I don’t know how long. And after a while she began to pray, and asked God to have mercy on those people.”

When friends went to visit Ponder in the jail, her face was so badly beaten and swollen that she could barely talk.

But Ponder was able to utter one word: “Freedom.”

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 18 - Divisions

It is the spring of 9:32 Dragon, and Ferelden is gripped in the midst of a bloody civil war. Driven by fear of an old enemy, the traitorous Loghain Mac Tir has stirred the people against the king, and every day new factions vie for power, waiting to take advantage of the chaos now that it is certain a new peace can only be won with swords.

In the north, Arl Howe of Amaranthine has seized control of Highever, and only Rosslyn Cousland, last scion of a slaughtered noble house, stands in the way of his greed. Aided by King Cailan’s uncle and his bastard half-brother, Alistair, she is determined to seek justice for her family’s murder and right the wrongs done to her people.

But politics is a complicated game. War has a cost; nobility comes with obligation; and beneath the machinations on both sides of the conflict, an even deeper threat stirs, biding its time to come into the light and bring Ferelden to its knees.

Words: 4208

Chapter summary: Rosslyn tries to escape her new title, just for a little while, and Alistair faces a decision as the king's plan becomes clear.

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

The main road through the village bustled with soldiers and camp followers as well as the local population, with impromptu stalls set up in the gaps between houses selling everything from good luck charms to seed potatoes and cured pelts. It was rowdy, but not disorderly, and it seemed so far that the army was sticking to Cailan's injunction to leave the villagers in peace. Rosslyn, relieved now that the effects of the guelder tea were finally taking hold, allowed herself to be borne along by the current of people, enjoying the rare chance to absorb the ambience of a market day without the presence of guards to set her apart from the rest of the crowd.

One middle-aged woman she passed hollered out deals for her fruit stall, vaunting the quality of her produce at such a volume her voice could be clearly heard over the general hubbub of everyone around her.

“These apples look very well for the season,” Rosslyn commented, stepping out of the flow with Cuno at her heels. The fruit was stacked in neat pyramids, glossy, stippled yellow, and looking as crisp as if they hadn’t spent several months stored in a cellar.

“Oh, thankee very much, Ma’am,” the woman chirped, after a moment of stunned silence. “I grow ‘em meself – and these hazelnuts, and them dried pears ye see owa there, on’y those don’ keep so well in the winter months. Would ye mebbee like to try one?”

Rosslyn chuckled and reached for the small purse of coin she carried with her. “No need, Messere. I think some of those apples would do nicely, if you’d fill one of those small bags for me.”

The woman grinned toothily. “Aye, right away, Ma’am.” She reached for one of the reed-net pouches hanging from a nail hammered into the post that held up the awning.

“How much for them?”

“Oh no, Ma’am, I couldn’. Ye’ve already done me a good by coming here an’ ev’ryone seein’ ye. They’ll be clamourin’ now.”

“And what if they also see you refuse to take payment?” Rosslyn asked, leaning closer. “They might get ideas.” She watched the fruit seller suck on her bottom lip, undecided, and added, “It’s only a few coppers. Take it with my gratitude.”

“You’ve a reet canny tongue in your head, Ma’am,” the woman said, handing over the bag and holding up three fingers to indicate her price. “It’d be bad luck to refuse such a thing. Maker keep ye –” She glanced around warily for eavesdroppers and muttered, “And the Lady, too.”

“The same to you, Messere,” Rosslyn replied, smiling as the woman turned away to address the queue already forming at the other end of the stall. She could imagine how the boasts would go now, and took a small sort of pleasure in knowing she had done something, even if did nothing to lessen the mountain of her other worries.

On the other side of the road, a messenger guided her weary-looking horse against the flow of traffic. Her leathers were stained with dirt, the colours faded so her allegiance was hard to discern, but from the grit of her scowl, her mission was both urgent and serious. Rosslyn let her go. Given the probably sensitive nature of the news, it would be madness to try and waylay the messenger in the middle of a crowded street – and whatever had happened, she would likely hear about it soon enough anyway.

She stepped off the road and onto the muddy path that led along a low ridge above the lists, towards the stables, absently tucking in to one of the apples. The crunch took her away to the crisp autumns spent in Highever’s orchards, chasing through the groves with Fergus and the labourers’ children, playing Heroes and Werewolves until the afternoon shadows grew long and they were called back to the croft, where her father would have his sleeves rolled up to take his annual, ceremonial turn at the cider press. The would be her duty now, along with a thousand others. If the croft still stood. If she lived long enough to ever see home again.

Unconcerned with the future, Cuno trotted at her side. He glanced pitifully between her and the net bag in her hand, as if he hadn’t already devoured an entire haunch of goat that morning, and wagged his stubby end of a tail when he saw her watching.

“You won’t like it,” she promised. “These are for Lasan.”

He whined.

Below them, the day-to-day routine of battle training ground on, with the smart tramp of soldiers marching in formation punctuated here and there by the dull ring of a sword on wood, or the bark of one of the arms masters correcting a stance. Gideon was busy in the riding ring, giving a lecture to a line of fidgeting cavalry officers who one by one were called forward to ride through a slalom of tall poles, guiding their horses only with their knees. The results were… mixed.

Alistair was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t realise she had been searching for him until his absence sent a swoop of disappointment coursing through her stomach. She cursed herself for even looking. What would she do if she did see him? Should she expect him to drop everything to greet her on familiar terms, or to smile tolerantly while she stumbled through a conversation just because she found herself the victim of some unwelcome, childish fantasy? And then there was the other matter, the truth she had tried so hard to avoid since the night after the battle, the one she feared would blurt out at the first opportunity.

He had lied to her. Every stripe of blood she had cleaned away from his face as they sat there together in the infirmary had confirmed it, the resemblance between him and the king so uncanny despite the age difference that there could be no doubt of who he truly was. The pieces of the puzzle fit so perfectly now she knew the final design – his resentment of nobility, the reason he always tried so hard to deflect attention away from himself, why the subject of his childhood was never discussed. Imagining what he must have suffered growing up as an unacknowledged bastard made her heart clench every time she thought of it, but so did the insidious voice that never failed to remind her it was a truth she had not been trusted with, either. He hadn’t wanted her to know – and that was before, when she wasn’t yet the Teyrna of Highever, one step down from the king and what must surely be the seat of his resentment. How wide that gap yawned between them now. People like me tend to avoid the ones sitting at the top end of the table.

And what was she to do? How could she look him in the eye, knowing she held a secret she was never meant to keep? Better that they not meet, better not to see his repulsion when he found out that she knew.

But what if he were acknowledged? a querulous voice asked in the back of her mind. She had dared to think it, on the nights she woke up after dreaming of him, entire conversations carried out in her head as she tried to work out the best way to rid herself of her unease. But to draw him out, to force the issue of his parentage when he so clearly didn’t want it just to satisfy her own selfish wants would only prove right every rotten opinion he had about the nobility, and that was a painful thought.

She had no right to pry. She had already promised herself not to impose upon him. She would keep her knowledge of his secret, even from him.

Lasan was grazing in the paddock as she walked up, completely at ease with a couple of geldings she didn’t recognise, his tail swishing idly at flies, and she put her own worries out of her mind. At a distance, she checked her horse’s condition, noting how he bore weight easily on his injured hoof, and how patches of thick winter fur were starting to give way to the sleek roan marble of his summer coat. When she whistled, his proud head arced up with a whinny, and she watched as he started towards her. He walked solidly, with equal weight on both sides, and when one of the geldings tried to overtake him he squealed and bucked, breaking into an airy trot in order to reach her ahead of the others.

His head bobbed as he smelled the apple she held out for him as a greeting gift. Velvet lips plucked the offering from her palm with a soft blow of welcome, leaving her free to slip between the bars of the fence as he crunched it down. The other horses kept a respectful distance but she watched them all the same. As laidback as Lasan was for a stallion, he was often jealous of human attention, especially around food, and getting caught in the middle of a dispute between two animals that alone could easily kill her would not help with her pile of paperwork.

She cleaned his foot as best she could without a pick and checked it for signs of bruising. His new iron shoes still had their shine, so he must have only been out loose recently, but the poultices the horsemaster used seemed to have worked.

“A few more days, and you can get back to showing off for everyone,” she informed him with a clap on the neck.

Lasan snorted turned to regard her with one warm brown eye, then promptly scraped his head against her side with such force she staggered backwards. Apparently his nose itched.

“Oi!” She pushed back against him, but chuckled and moved her hands to the familiar spot on his withers that made his lip twitch with pleasure. Years ago, she would spend afternoons in the stables with Fergus, breathing in the musty scent of horse and helping the grooms so they could avoid the gatherings of uptight nobles who flocked to the castle almost every other week. And then Fergus had met Oriana and the hours in the stables became hers alone, a way to hide from her mother’s friends and the seemingly endless supply of unmarried sons they paraded before her.

But something always drew her away from those brief interludes of peace, and even now, as she found a twist of grass to work over Lasan’s back in place of a curry comb, she spotted a scout in Redcliffe colours jogging towards her from the direction of the village.

“Teyrna Rosslyn!” the boy puffed, saluting.

“Get your breath back first,” she advised, giving her horse one final pat before slipping back between the fence slats.

“Yes, Your Ladyship – thank you.” He breathed deep and started again. “Arl Eamon sent me to find you. We have news – a messenger has just arrived from South Reach with news from Arl Leonas. He says forces from Gwaren have taken Denerim.”

Her eyes widened. “But our last reports put him in Gwaren. How could he slip past South Reach undetected?”

“I don’t know, Your Ladyship,” the scout replied. “Only that I was sent to fetch you.”

“I’ll come at once. Was there something else?” she asked, when he hesitated.

“I’m sorry, your Ladyship, only Arl Eamon bid me find King Cailan as well – there was a private letter for him, from the queen, I think – but I don’t know where he is. I asked some of the royal guard, but all they said was His Majesty didn’t want to be disturbed.” The scout wrung his hands in front of him, his gaze fixed on her feet, already flinching from the expected reprimand.

Rosslyn shook her head. “Cuno can sniff out His Majesty.” If nothing else, it would give a her a few more minutes out in the sun, free to imagine a life not embroiled in politics. “I’ll see he gets the message. Go about your duties.”

“Yes, Your Ladyship – thank you!”

Alistair’s hands were clasped behind his back, his brows furrowed in concentration as he listened to Cailan talk and tried to work out where best to punctuate the speech with affirmative nods. It had been his attitude for the better part of an hour now, as the pair of them wandered through the rows of orchard trees mantled with blossom and alive with the humming of bees. Inwardly, he was doing his best not to panic.

The king’s hands were expressive, his face open and smiling in an almost infantile manner, but his blue eyes were lively and intelligent, and from the first moment they met Alistair felt like a bull in a show ring, appraised and judged for purpose. He had tried to hide his resentment, though it turned out Cailan bore little resemblance to the spoiled child in his memory. He was courteous, if stilted at first, as if he were uncertain of protocol, but once the most awkward enquiries were out of the way, his smile widened and his shoulders relaxed, and Alistair found himself completely wrong-footed.

“Of course, your current wardrobe just will not do,” the king was saying now. “It’s a shame I had to leave my tailor behind in Denerim, but time was of the essence and the old fuddy never did do well on horseback – we’ll just ask Bann Ferrenly nicely if he’ll spare his man for a suit or two.”

“Your Majesty, I –”

Cailan stopped him with a hand on his arm, his smile shrinking into more sympathetic lines. Alistair had been prepared for a scolding, or an order to keep his head down. This was something he could never have foreseen.

“It’s a habit, I know,” the king said, “but you must start using my name. We are brothers, aren’t we? You must admit, our likeness is uncanny! Why, I could almost be looking into a mirror back in time.” His grip pressed harder in what he must have thought was a reassuring squeeze. “Our father never told me the reason he hid you away, but fate has brought us together nonetheless and I wish to make redress for past mistakes. It’s time to claim the birthright that should always have been yours. What say you, brother?”

Alistair swallowed. The king’s eyes were too bright. How many years had he spent hoping for words just like these? When his mother died, he had dreamed that Maric would spur through Redcliffe’s gates on a great white charger to claim him as a second son and carry him away from the life of drudgery expected from the bastard orphan of a kitchen maid. Even when Teagan had taken him to Rainesfere to be a knight, there had been a faint hope at the back of his mind that it was his chance to prove worthy of the father who had never noticed him, the man whose shadow had fallen across him all his life.

It was the past. What he was now, he had earned through hard work and merit, not because of Maric’s name.

“You Majesty,” he said again. “I’m just an ordinary soldier, nothing more. I’m not even sure I have matching socks on today. With due respect, are you entirely serious about this? I mean, what does an heir to the throne even do?”

Cailan threw his head back and laughed. “That’s your worry? Come, we are not Orlesians to sneer at one who does not have a conventional background. The people will love you – you understand them, and you have fought for them, and won a rousing victory to boot! And as for the rest, well –” he waved his hand vaguely and wrinkled his nose – “We can see to that. Will you at least think on it?” he asked, when Alistair still looked uncertain. “Most people would jump at the chance to be royalty, or so I’m told.”

With a sinking sense of premonition, Alistair straightened his shoulders and nodded. “As you say, Your – oompf!”

Something heavy slammed into his waist, nearly doubling him over. When he managed to get his wind back, he looked down to see a slobbery, tongue-lolling smile and an absurdly wiggling rump trying to press itself against his breeches. Panic seized his limbs. After a week, an entire week of hoping and having those hopes dashed, of all the places she could have turned up, why did it have to be here, now?

“Ho, now that’s a familiar face!” Cailan laughed. “And if I’m not mistaken, when this one appears, the other isn’t far behind – and yes, here she is!”

Alistair followed the point of the king’s finger as Rosslyn strode into sight along the path ahead. Heat leapt up the back of his neck. There were bruised circles under her eyes, her boots were muddy, and the quilted, slate-grey cotton of her shirt was dusted by a fine covering of reddish hair, but if anything that lack of polish just emphasised the grace of her walk, and the economy with which her warrior’s muscles moved under the form-fitting lines of her clothes. And her hair – it gleamed like a raven’s wing in the sunlight, braided back from her face but long and loose down her back, just as it had been in his dream. Cuno stretched up to lick his chin, his full weight against Alistair’s legs. He gladly took the distraction and bent over to fuss the dog, the better to hide his flaming cheeks while he tried to rein in the wandering line of his thoughts.

“Teyrna Rosslyn!” Cailan cried, with genuine delight. “Of all the blossoms out on this fine morning, you are surely the most beautiful, if not the most expected.”

Alistair’s ears burned. He remembered what she had said in the barracks room, about the king and his charm and how they grew up together.

“Ever the flatterer, Your Majesty,” she replied easily. With his eyes fixed resolutely on the grass, Alistair imagined the way she held her hand out for the king to take, the way the king took it and brought it to his lips. “Tell me, has a large, excitable dog wandered across your path recently?”

“Why, yes. I believe he’s just making himself acquainted with…” He trailed off when he noticed Rosslyn’s start of surprise, and Alistair sheepishly looking up to return her gaze. “You know each other?”

“Ser Alistair was the one who found me and my troopers at Wythenshawe,” she explained. “He was kind enough to take care of me.”

Alistair bowed, his hands still trailing through Cuno’s fur, and searched her face for any sign of partiality as he made his greeting. “Your Ladyship.”

Her expression remained neutral, though he thought maybe her gaze lingered on him a beat longer than strictly necessary before turning back to the king.

“Oh I will have to hear all about this, I’m sure,” Cailan was saying. “But tell me first, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

Her voice lowered as she explained her errand, her head bowed respectfully, but every so often her eyes flickered to him and back, as if uncertain whether to include him in the conversation or not.

Cailan’s easy smile collapsed in a frown. “I must see to this. But first I must apologise for having disturbed your walk, my lady,” he said, tilting her a winning smile. “Since the two of you are acquainted, would you mind terribly if I left you here together?”

Alistair saw his panic mirrored in her eyes. To be alone with her – after so long spent thinking about it – but with so much between them now, what could he say?

“If Her Ladyship doesn’t object?”

“I don’t – unless I would be intruding?”

He smiled at their stumbling clash of words. “Of course not.”

“Excellent.” The king pressed a light kiss to Rosslyn’s knuckles that managed to be charming rather than pompous, already moving towards the village. “I will see you soon, my lady, and we’ll see what this business is about. And you also, Ser Alistair,” he added. “Remember you’ve promised me you’ll think about my offer.”

When he left, the easy atmosphere left with him, and for a tense moment neither of them spoke. The only sound apart from the spring birds was the contented panting of the dog as he rolled all the way over onto his back to allow Alistair better access to his softest parts. The sight made Rosslyn fold her arms across her chest and frown, but she had to bite her lips to keep from smiling.

“Absolutely pathetic.”

Alistair gasped in mock outrage. “Don’t listen to the nasty lady, boy. You’re a good dog.”

Cuno righted himself and tried to boof him on the chin.

“You’re looking well,” she offered, after another lengthy pause.

“Oh it’s a miracle,” he replied, giving her a distracted wave. “For a while, I was afraid I wouldn’t pull through, and that I would depart this life without having accomplished my dream of growing a really fancy moustache.” He ducked his head and ran a nervous hand through his hair, heart pounding. “I was, uh, lucky I had such a good nurse.”

“Mhm, that mage – Amell, is it? – is rather pretty, isn’t she?” came the easy reply.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He pouted, to cover his mortification. How could he expect anything but a deflection from such a clumsy compliment? “I don’t remember picking on you when you were still an invalid.”

“You wouldn’t have dared,” she told him, but the smug tilt of her lips faded, her fingers going to fidget with a ring he hadn’t seen her wear before. “I’m sorry for not coming to see you.”

You sleep like a bear. I was worried.

It was a dream, not real; he shrugged it away. “You’ve been busy. And I hear you’re officially Teyrna now,” he added brightly. “Is there a special curtsey I should be aware of, or anything? I heard somewhere it’s a custom for knights to lay their coats over puddles for noble ladies to step through.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t the water just seep through the fabric, or overflow at the edges?”

“See, that’s what I thought,” he replied, glad to get at least a small reaction from her, but unsure what to do with it. He wanted to ask how she was, if she needed anything, what she would do now the army was moving south, but he didn’t dare.

“Either way, I wish you wouldn’t.” the lop-sided smirk flashed briefly at him. “I trip over enough protocol these days without having to contend with somebody’s coat. Besides,” she added, “I’m not the one lofty enough to have private meetings with the king.”

He dropped his gaze, rubbing at the sudden itch on the back of his neck. He needed to tell her, even if nothing came of it. The words bunched in his chest, struggling for order, a way to bring it up without just blurting out that he’d been lying by omission since their first meeting. And maybe, he realised, if she knew, she might have advice about Cailan’s offer to acknowledge his claim to the throne.

But when he looked back at her, his confession ready on his tongue, he found she had turned her attention to the branches of a nearby tree, and was running her fingertips along the dainty white blossoms, the pink buds yet to open. When she bent her head to inhale the scent, her features set in wistful lines, it was an image he wanted seared in his brain forever.

“But that’s none of my business,” she told him quietly. “Forgive me. To be honest, I came out here to get away from politics for a while.”

His mouth snapped shut.

“I should head back. No doubt whatever is in that message for His Majesty will involve me soon enough.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I ought to return to my duties as well, if you wouldn’t mind the company? We could talk about things that have nothing to do with politics.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, I heard that the Avvar make a particularly fine cheese from the milk of dwarven battle nugs, and I would like your opinion on the matter.”

He was a coward. As he fell into step beside her, the dog a barrier between them, he felt the moment pass, and mourned it. What good would it do her to know who he really was anyway? The secret had never caused him anything but trouble, and giving it to her would just be another burden to add to shoulders already strained with responsibility. No, far better to keep his father’s name to himself and not risk her pulling away from him completely – or worse, treating him with a deference                 that was never meant to be his. Making her smile was enough. Besides, who was to say that this idea to make him a prince wasn’t just some passing fancy of the king’s, a way to create intrigue among the nobility for some as-yet undiscovered reason?

Even in his own head the argument was less than convincing, but he kept his silence nonetheless.

[go-redgirl]

Acting attorney general has questioned Mueller investigation

OWA CITY, Iowa (AP) — The man who will serve at least temporarily as the nation’s top law enforcement official is a relatively inexperienced Republican Party loyalist from Iowa who has called for limiting special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation.

Matthew G. Whitaker, 49, will become the nation’s acting attorney general following the forced resignation of Jeff Sessions. President Donald Trump announced the appointment Wednesday, saying on Twitter that Whitaker “will serve our Country well” and that a permanent attorney general will be nominated later.

The former federal prosecutor served as Sessions’ chief of staff for one year.

The bulk of Whitaker’s relevant experience came when he served as U.S. attorney for the Southern District of Iowa from 2004 until 2009, a position for which he was recommended by Iowa Republican Sen. Chuck Grassley, now chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee. In that role, the telegenic former college football player managed attorneys who prosecuted federal crimes and represented the government in civil matters in half of Iowa.

Recent acting and permanent attorneys general have been longtime government lawyers or high-ranking politicians with more experience navigating Washington than Whitaker.

Critics worry that Whitaker may be unlikely or unwilling to defend the Department of Justice’s independence against political interference by the White House, given his history of partisanship and loyalty to Trump. Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer said Wednesday that Whitaker should recuse himself from overseeing the Mueller investigation given his previous public comments that appeared to exhibit hostility toward the inquiry.

During a brief stint last year as a conservative legal commentator on CNN, Whitaker often appeared as a Trump defender, saying he saw no evidence the president colluded with Russians during the 2016 campaign or obstructed justice. He wrote last year on CNN.com that Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein should limit the scope of Mueller’s investigation to stop him from delving into Trump’s finances.

“If he doesn’t, then Mueller’s investigation will eventually start to look like a political fishing expedition. This would not only be out of character for a respected figure like Mueller, but also could be damaging to the President of the United States and his family — and by extension, to the country,” he wrote.

He also said on CNN last year that he could see a scenario in which Sessions’ replacement doesn’t fire Mueller but “just reduces his budget to so low that his investigation grinds to almost a halt.”

Asked whether Whitaker would assume control over Mueller’s investigation, Justice Department spokeswoman Sarah Flores said Whitaker would be “in charge of all matters under the purview of the Department of Justice.” The agency did not announce a departure for Rosenstein, who appointed Mueller and has closely overseen his work.

Des Moines attorney Guy Cook, a Democrat who has known Whitaker for years, called him a clear thinker and a “no-nonsense guy who is not to be underestimated.”

“But I think most importantly, from the president’s perspective, he’s loyal,” Cook said. He said that reasonable people can agree with Whitaker’s perspective on the Mueller investigation, but “I’m sure that’s something that got the president’s attention.”

Grassley said Whitaker “will work hard and make us proud,” saying that the department would be in good hands during the transition.

Most of Whitaker’s career has been spent in private practice, including at a Des Moines law firm he founded with other Republican Party activists in 2009. He has twice failed in bids for statewide elected office, most recently losing the 2014 GOP primary for the U.S. Senate to now-Sen. Joni Ernst.

After that campaign, Whitaker helped start and served for three years as executive director for the Foundation for Accountability and Civic Trust, a self-described “ethics watchdog” that often targets Democratic officials and groups with misconduct investigations and complaints. He has said that Hillary Clinton should have been prosecuted for her email scandal as secretary of state and that Trump made the right call in firing FBI Director James Comey. He earned $402,000 in 2016, the group’s tax filing shows.

Whitaker has also cultivated close relationships with Republican leaders and activists during the Iowa caucuses, the first-in-the-nation presidential nominating contests that occur every four years. He served as state chairman during the 2012 election cycle for former Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty’s campaign. After Pawlenty’s bid fizzled, he served in the 2012 and 2016 presidential campaigns of Rick Perry, the former Texas governor who is now energy secretary.

Whitaker grew up in the Des Moines suburb of Ankeny. He attended the University of Iowa on a football scholarship, playing tight end under the legendary coach Hayden Fry and catching a pass for the Hawkeyes in the 1991 Rose Bowl. He majored in communications studies as an undergraduate and was interested in broadcasting and film production. He later earned an MBA and a law degree from the school.

After starting his career in private practice, Whitaker first ran for office in 2002, losing a race for state treasurer to longtime Democratic incumbent Michael Fitzgerald. President George W. Bush appointed him as the U.S. attorney based in Des Moines in 2004.

During his tenure, his office was accused of having political motivations in bringing an extortion charge against then-Democratic state Sen. Matt McCoy, which stemmed from a dispute McCoy had with a business partner. Whitaker denied that accusation, and McCoy was acquitted at a 2007 trial.