How legal are nuclear bombs? Do they exist. If they exist what are their accesability. Is possesion of nuclear bombs legal? Can we make that legal. If no nuclear bombs, what is the closest adjacent. Would you have any information on this?
- A very normal and well adjusted sprunki
Text transcript of the text heavy portions of this will be provided later- For now I’m just happy I got this doozy of an ask done! :D
Also Thanks to my pal Aqua for helping with Project Ichorous / The Godling’s design ^^
When Iorveth woke up, he found himself covered by a mossy blanket, at a fireside. He wondered where he was, and what had happened to him… His sore hands were bandaged and when he reached for his face, he felt a wet compress. The slight touch caused an explosion of pain, spreading from his cheek through the whole skull. He nearly passed out again, so he focused on breathing. Iorveth started to remember how the spear hat shattered his face. With his tongue, he sensed that teeth were missing and somehow his mouth felt just… wrong.
But to his utter surprise, the pain was only half as bad as he remembered. When he looked around, he recognized some sort of camp with a small shelter made of branches and leaves. In the tree above, a collection of shiny metal things reflected the light of the flames and some steps aside someone sat at the fire, his back turned to Iorveth.
Iorveth blinked several times, the person seemed like a… child to him. The being had bluish skin and they only wore some patched trousers and a colourful knitted scarf wrapped around their neck. On their head, the individual wore a crown of twigs and fern, with a tiny pair of antlers at the sides.
“Who are you?” asked Iorveth, or at least he wanted to ask this. But he was not able to talk, instead he could only caw. But individual heard him anyway.
The bluish creature twirled around, and with a few jumps he was at Iorveths side. Indeed, he looked like a child, but with huge greenish eyes and something about his face was… odd. He was a godling.
“Oh, you are finally awake!” the godling squeaked excitedly, “Hope you feel better. By the gods… What the hell happened to your face? Berthold and I discussed hours if it was more helpful to release you or to stitch you back together. Berthold actually wanted to eat you, but I told him in your condition you probably tasted like rotten fogger.” Without even awaiting an answer, the godling lifted the compress on Iorveths shattered face, and he grimaced over what he saw. So it was that bad, thought Iorveth. And who was Berthold?
“Wuah… that looks disgusting…” the godling shook his head. Again he twirled around and picked some leaves off a small tree, rubbed them between his hands, returned to Iorveth and put the leaves on his wound, the compress on top. Whatever that was, it burned on his skin, but the pain turned into a tingle, and after a while into numbness.
“Seriously elf, what were you thinking? Why would someone even GO to that evil castle? It´s just the meat market for nekkers!” the godling ranted, “See, that´s what you get: A squishy face. You were lucky that I found you, and not Berthold or some nekker… I don´t eat people. Especially not those who are such poor creatures as you are. Did you jump off the walls or what? It took the sparrows hours to find all the thorns and spikes, you looked like a hedgehog! And I needed Berthold’s help to get that quarrel out of your arm.” So this godling had knocked him out and had taken him here to help him?
Iorveth glanced at his arm, and was surprised to see a dressing. What quarrel? He had not even noticed the guards had shot at him, or the quarrel that had stuck in his arm for two days. Then he realized that he did not wear his shirt, and his skin was surprisingly clean. The godling must have taken good care of him. Carefully, he tried to prop himself up, but his arms started trembling, so he gave up. If he could not even talk or sit up, how should he get water? He licked his cracked lips and tried to swallow, the taste of blood still lingered on his tongue.
“Oh, I see. You want something to drink! Stupid me…” the godling noticed immediately. He hurried away and came back with a hollow dried fruit, filled with some liquid. “This is fresh water, with some herbs, mashed fruits and honey. It´s a recipe of Berthold, some ancient fever remedy. Really helpful!”
The godling had a sip himself, before he helped Iorveth to hold up his head and drink.
“Oh please! Not too fast! Otherwise you will vomit again, and that wasn´t fun the last time….” the bluish creature stated with a worried look. Iorveth was puzzled, because he did not remember anything. Carefully the godling paid attention that Iorveth did not get too much of the sweet liquid. At least it washed away the iron taste of blood. While the godling started chatting, the elf tried to follow his words. But soon he fell asleep again.
The upcoming days, the godling did his best to nurse the elf back to strength. Iorveth learned that his name was Eugene, and he used to live in this forest for years. He talked a lot about this mysterious Berthold, his best friend… but Iorveth never got an eye on Berthold, and he wondered why.
“So elf, after staying with us for more a week now, don´t you think it would be polite to tell us your name?” the godling asked one morning, while he fed Iorveth some mash of fruits and plants. Iorveth felt much better, and it seemed like his vocal cords remembered how to speak a few words.
“Iorveth” he answered with a hoarse voice, carefully and slowly forming the words with his lips and his mutilated jaw.
“That´s a strange name. Not that I ever met an elf before… But anyway. I will call you Iorv” the godling replied with a tilted head and a bold smile, “Berthold also had a very strange name when I met him, but I found Berthold suited him better. His crows liked the idea a lot! So we stuck with it.”
“Crows?” Iorveth asked hoarsely. Speaking hurt his face, so he kept his question short. He really wondered about Berthold. Sometimes he even suspected Berthold was just an imaginary friend.
“Yeah, he has some crows. Really helpful fellows! One of them took care of your eye. We needed to remove it because of all the pus – Oh don´t look so shocked! It was frazzled anyway! And believe me, it was a pretty disgusting job!” appalled, the godling crossed his skinny arms in front of his chest when Iorveth stared at him horror-stricken. A crow had removed his eyeball?! He must be dreaming… Fluttering wings in the tree above his head seemed to back the godling. When Iorveth raised his head, he spotted five crows on a branch. Curiously, the birds stared down at him, croaking.
“Oh, seems like Berthold is back! He was so disappointed you always were asleep when he came to see you!” excitedly, Eugene jumped up and turned his head.
Iorveth followed his gaze, and when he saw what was approaching, his hand groped around to find something that could serve him as a weapon. Where the hell was his spear head?
Berthold was an about three metres tall woodland spirit, or leshen, as the humans called them. The tree like creature had bark instead of skin, limbs like branches and his head was a moose-skull with glowing eyes and incredibly huge antlers. Around his hips he wore an archaic looking deerskin, but Iorveth spotted a coloured knitted scarf wrapped around the leshen´s neck, like the one Eugene wore. He stood a stone throw away between some trees and watched them.
“No need to be scared, elf” Iorveth heard a calm and deep voice inside his head, “This is my forest, and no one will do you harm. If I wanted to see you dead, be sure you would not be alive anymore.”
To Iorveth this seemed reasonable, still the leshen was daunting. Now, many of the things Eugene had told him actually made sense. The godling stepped aside to make room for his friend. Carefully, the giant spirit walked to Iorveths pallet with steady and large steps, bending little trees to make way, so he would not damage the plants.
With a creak Berthold kneed down next to the awestruck elf. The spirit grabbed the blanket – it turned out that it was really some sort of moss – and exposed Iorveths body down to his hips. Iorveth shivered when the fresh forest wind stroke his naked skin. Slowly, Berthold laid his hand on Iorveths chest, and the elf felt a warm tingle spreading through his body. The woodland spirits touch dispelled the pain and the cold. Iorveth also started to feel stronger, and more awake. He realized that without Berthold’s help he probably would have died.
“Maybe you would have died, maybe not. I can make things grow, it was a breeze to heal your ribcage” Berthold raised his hand and eyed the leaves and buds that grew on his long fingers, “But unfortunately we could not do much for your face. Such a severe injury caused by violence, hatred and malediction is far beyond my capability.”
Well, sparrows picking the thorns out of his skin, crows removing his infected and inflamed eyeball and healing charms by a woodland spirit, all that was far more Iorveth could have asked for. And in this moment, far more than his brain could handle… How could he ever make amends for this?
“As soon as you are able to walk on your own, you will leave this forest, and you will never return. We bestowed you with this grace, because Eugene believes in your good heart. I don´t, since I found only grief and hatred and the desire for revenge in your thoughts. We don´t need that here.” Berthold reached for Iorveth´s face, and as soon as his fingertips touched the elf´s forehead, he felt how darkness oozed into his brain, his thoughts became foggy and before he understood what happened, Iorveth fell asleep. He would never see Berthold again.
The following days Eugene helped Iorveth to get back on his feet. They practiced talking and walking, and the godling taught him how to find edible fruits and roots, and how to get out of the wood.
One day, when Iorveth woke up, he was alone. Next to his bed lay a pair of trousers and a woollen tunic, obviously second-hand, but at least clean, his spearhead and a wooden cloak fibula, so he could wear his blanket as a cloak. Next to it Iorveth found a staff he could use as a cane, a gourd with water and a small bag, filled with some of Eugene’s roots.
Iorveth felt lugubrious, but got dressed and did not hesitate to leave the little camp behind. He knew he was not welcome here anymore. When he made it to the edge of the forest and saw the Drakenborg raising in the distance, reality hit him like a punch in the face. The grief, the wrath and the pain, it all was back. With a clenched heart Iorveth left the forest behind to get as far away as possible.
The End :)
(Well, technically not the end, because there is much more... Depends on how many would want to read it. Or you just go there: https://yrdenne.deviantart.com/gallery/62288885/Defeating-the-Fire-Book-1
and read the whole fcking fic XD)
Last night I had a dream in which I went on a date with Ryan Gosling. We fell madly in love and the next morning we woke up and he had morphed into Patrick Swayze, who then promptly took me to Sacré Cœur and asked for my hand in marriage. I said oui. Sigh, l'amour.
