So the YouTube algorithm(I hope that's the right term) presented me with some of your talk show appearances and 2 things stood out (besides your politics, which I agree with 99% of the time). 1) I don't believe in astrology either. All those stars have moved. 2) No tattoos, absolutely nothing against them, there is maybe 1 thing I could see getting a tattoo of too.
*This all seems silly but what the heck.

Dear Fans of Lelias Melaven: I no longer have the energy to keep up to any utau community (there is none). I don't associate with anyone or even have talks with people who know anything remotely about the program UTAU. I always wanted somebody to use Lelias Melaven with some skill and possibly cover tracks and songs that I haven't. I really would have liked it If anyone in the utau community reached out to me. I never receive compliments for the work I've done. I get a lot of people who simply do not understand Japanese that just outright dislike my music due to it not being English. Many utau people refuse to use anything that isn't VCV or more. I am so tired of having to convert and change peoples ust files just to cover music. I am getting tired of fighting for copyright strikes on every song I've covered. Lelias Melaven was made in 2011 and that was about 12 years ago. I have grown since then and have had my account deleted due to a crime committed against my old account and my family. I've been in a 4 day coma about 3 years ago due to a heart attack. I've been hit by a car and that isn't even what disabled me in the first place. I just can't keep chasing this dream where Lelias Melaven is known as a "good" utauloid. I was so happy when I released the final CV voicebank for her I spent hundreds of hours mulling and thinking about the proper placement of my oto.ini file which is the most crucial part of tuning an utau. Spending so much time making this "instrument" was worth it but I don't foresee anyone ever actually practically using Lelias. I wanted so badly for so long for people to create music covers with her. I had only good intentions making her, and I don't see her character as a "racist" depiction of anyone in real life. I find her and my drawings to be beautiful. I always listen to my music every couple weeks but aside from that I am absolutely positive nobody will ever care enough to pick up the .rar file and properly install or use her in the future. If you're reading this and shaking your head the whole time I ask: why won't you make anything with her?. In general the Utau community is more bothered making their own creations and about 99% of all utau are utter shit (yes I'll say it). Whenever I used to mix these tracks together I would have to edit and custom almost all the ust files. So often I had to convert the vcv ust into cv and it still sounded just as good as vcv aside from a few errors sometimes. I know I heard many people comment saying she has a "Accent" or is just simply not sounding native Japanese. These are problems that will never be fixed because I'm simply too exhausted to keep doing this content. I've had to rebuild this entire account and only managed to release about half as much content as my old youtube account. I had to use backups and also remix songs I've already covered just to release the content I already have. I have begged people, tried offering money, I've even had moments where I would find a bunch of good ust files and just craft a few videos here and there. I would really like it if somebody could just take me out of my depression a bit by simply using Lelias properly to cover other tracks and songs. She is entirely free to download and you can find it in "about". I'm done with the terrible community utau has shown me. The ego's, drama and bullying I've experienced from other users has been crippling to the point where I don't have any drive to even install utau again. It would be an honor if somebody would show me some kindness and just do a song or two... anything or any kind of help would be amazing but It seems hopeless to ask people for this. If you are a content creator I'd love it if you used the software to make her sing or say whatever you'd like. I really miss the old days when there was constantly new Vocaloid songs and producers would release ust files or even allow people to record karaoke versions over their instrumentals. I will not yield to anyone telling me to delete any of my content, ill see you in court. For everyone else who doesn't have issues with my content I would like it if you would listen to my music from time to time or even subscribe... over 4 years I've managed to get 40 subscribers. It seems almost every person who uses utau regularly has their own utauloid and often they are just terrible (even worse than mine). Not tuned properly or just plain not recorded well or even has a properly tuned oto file. So many times I have tried to listen to other peoples music to compare but its just hot garbage, all of it. It all sounds terrible but another thing that bugs me about utau is that everyone is obsessed with creating Teto Kasane stuff. (im not hating on her but I just know there are way better utauloids out there). It was cool being the underdog and having a few people say I did well but the majority of what I've experienced with other people is that they simply just don't like it. Not understanding Japanese and me living in Canada doesn't really help my situation. To be honest I am bored of being ignored from my passion and Its no fun having no friends at all. Was I really such a bad guy?, I didn't even bother trying to talk to anyone else about utau except a few people off the internet. Yes I have a Lelias Melaven Tattoo and that is one of my favorites and she will always be available for download for free from Mediafire. All I ever wanted was to listen to other people use this creation of mine but in over 10 years NOBODY has ever used her and kept the songs online for more than a year. It bothers me and keeps me awake some nights in depression when I think about what a waste of my life and time it was to create Lelias. I live a stressful life and I'm tired of being ignored by everyone. What was so bad about Lelias in the first place?. It would really make my day if just anyone good could use her in a respectful way and keep the songs that are made online. I shouldn't be the only person who makes content, It costs money to convince somebody to make art or music these days and that's a resource I don't have any of to spare. I am a poor man, I am Disabled and I also am just exhausted in trying to tell people about her. I'm really sad lately, and I don't think anyone out there even wants to listen or help me.
​
https://www.youtube.com/@kalvinlewis

I have a new tattoo done during a vacation. It’s the largest one I’ve had, the most painful (especially at the side outer ankle area), with the most intricate details (a lot of fine line work). If context for the tattoo design helps or makes a difference, it’s a kirituhi tattoo. Since maybe the 3rd day after the scabs began to form, I’ve been experiencing severe itching that has been so fucking awful, especially at the ankle area where it was most painful during the tattooing — it is also more red than tattoo on my calf area. As the initial pain has gone away, it’s becoming more itchy now.
I’ve moisturised maybe every 5–6 hours, slapped it, fingernail-pressed it, swept it lightly with my fingertips, even taken oral antihistamines to reduce the itch. They are increasingly not working. The itching is hell and I am trying so hard not to scratch. The most I’ve done is scratch around the scabs. The itch comes back immediately. Takes literally just 5 seconds. My previous tattoos have not itched this badly. If anyone has experienced the torture of allergic reactions to sandfly bites, this tattoo itch is way worse lol. I got it on the 20th this month, so it’s only been 6 days inclusive.
I doubt it’s an allergic reaction because only the ankle area of my tattoo itches and is red, while the above-ankle parts are mostly fine.
Does anyone have any idea why it may be this extent of itchy, and have any advice on other ways to relieve / cope with the intense itch? Literally taking all suggestions now because I love this new work and don’t want to ruin it, but this is torture. 😭🫠 TIA!

Dear fellow nerds,
I am curious as to your speculation and particular knowledge on what the return of the first born son will have politically, for the imperium. How will those in power react? I'll start by sharing my thoughts below.
I am curious about this because it is my impression that most if not all of imperial society is feudal, with primogeniture succession. Assuming that that is indeed the case, when the news that the Emperor's firstborn son is returned reaches the wider imperium, isn't it then likely, that there will be a large pressure, for the oldest offspring, to take up the role as regent, as that is the "right and lawful" thing to happen. I assume this pressure will come because breaking with those traditions at the top, will threaten everyone who's inherited power all the way down the power structure.
This is not to say that the Lion would want it at all, he might not, but I believe that he may be pressured into having to accept the regency, to keep the imperial nobility fron rebelling.

Brynnhildr is a bruiseassassin with disruptive short ranged skills and the ability to enter battle on her own terms. She starts out as a high impact assassin and transitions into a disruptive bruiser.

Lore

Frodnar stood up, blinking, with much effort. Why was he on the ground? Where were his axe and shield? Why did everything seem so unreal and dreamlike? The sounds of battle seemed distant and the muddy field was steeped in an unearthly glow. As he slowly pondered these questions, still stunned from that mace blow, someone behind him put a hand on his shoulder. "Frodnar, it is time", she spoke.
"They got me, didn't they?"
She nodded silently, waiting for his bearsmead trance to wear off. As the blood left his body, so would the elixir leave his mind. They had made it farther than the enemy must have expected, just the twenty of them with axes and wolfskins going up against the entire legion. The ambush was flawless, but it was not enough. She knew it was never going to be enough.
"Where is the warband? How many of the rooster draggers did I take down with me?"
She shook her head, with not a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Grapeshot."
"But I can't... The village needs me! The women and children...!"
She remained silent.
"You can skewer their whole legion on that god-spear of yours. Do something!"
"The Gods wove the tapestry of fate to be admired, not touched. Your death was prophesised." She handed him his axe and shield back and coolly continued, "Come with me, einherjer. Your time on Runeterra is over, but one final battle awaits," as the earth quietly dropped out from under the pair and the skies faded into a brilliant white glow and gave way to the myriad stars of Nivheim.

Lying on the floor of a hastily dug trench, a young woman looked up at the stars, watching the glare of a falling star streak past overhead. A portent from the heavens; a sign of victory or doom? She did not dare to hope for much more than a bitter victory, and even that would be a miracle. The legion was still advancing on their position and her brothers were probably already dead. Their only hope was that the men had done enough damage to dissuade them from a frontal attack.
"Mom, the falling star, what does it mean?", a boy asked, no older than fifteen.
"It means we will win this, Bjarn. The Gods are with us. Maybe you'll get to kill a war elephant!", she said, gesturing to the makeshift crossbow he was holding in his knuckles.
It sounded very unconvincing, and Bjarn knew it, and so did the falling star descending invisibly on the small group of defenders. Unbeknowst to the mortals in the trenches, the enemy already knew their position and were loading their cannons. Bjarn would never even get to shoot his crossbow, and then she would rush the enemy ranks in a suicidal charge and that would be that. Wrong place, wrong time, as fate ordained.
As she gave her son a hug, the falling star landed silently on the ruins, watching the small group of defenders in the trench that would be their tomb. A single ethereal tear fell and vanished as the cannons flared in the distance.

Behind the thunder of the barrage, a faint ripple in the tapestry drew the messenger's eye, a single thread unwinding far behind enemy lines. The defenders were still alive: one of the cannons had not fired. Through the din of battle, she listened.
I will not shoot at women and children so the high command can add a few more miles to their borders. Fire! Fire, soldier! This is an order! We can just put down our weapons and walk away. We can put an end to this. Hands in the air! Drop the match! Drop it!
She cast one last glance at the stars she would never touch again and landed at Bjarn's side, taking care not to startle the boy.
"Be not afraid, Bjarn. You need to do something. You know how to use that crossbow?" "Yes, I... shot a rat... just yesterday..." "Good. See that star up there, just a bit brighter than the others? Aim straight at it and shoot." "Who are..." "Do not sit here waiting to die. Shoot. Follow my last prophecy. Unravel the tapestry."
And Bjorn did as she asked, and watched the crude dart arc into the distance, carried by a lucky wind.
This is bigger than you, soldier. If you don't fire, someone else will, and if they don't, someone else will. You are nothing!
Suddenly, unexpectedly, but exactly as the messenger had prophesised, a crossbow bolt fell from the sky, knocking the lit match out of the soldier's hand, sending it tumbling through the air and into a nearby barrel.

As the echoes of the bombardment faded, the mother gripped her sword, awaiting the charge. In the distance, the enemy line rushed towards them, then hesitated, stumbled; swept off their horses and knocked to the ground by a scorching wind as the horizon lit up with a brilliant glow. Burning debris and a cloud of gunpowder smoke filled the sky.
"The cannons! Bjarn, the cannons!" She turned to her son and who is that wait is that a--
"Is... is Bjarn dead?" "Not right now. Maybe later," the messenger replied. "Are we going to die?" "I do not know. The tapestry is unwoven, your fate is now in your hands alone. I have broken my oath; the power of prophecy is no longer mine."
The messenger looked around the trench, pointing her spear at the enemy line where the soldiers were clambering around, disoriented, searching for their weapons and horses. "Listen up! The children stay here and watch for ambushes. The adults join me! We strike that wagon over there before they remember which way to point their swords. That's their carrier pigeon cage. We take that out, we cut their communication lines."
"We can actually win this?", the mother asked.
"We have been given a chance. Nothing more, nothing less. The rest is up to us," the valkyrie replied.
And when her warhorn sounded and she took to the air, the villagers rose up from the trenches and the einherjer with them, rushing the enemy line, as flaming debris rained down from the heavens like falling stars.

Model

Brynnhildr is a valkyrie who has broken her oath and is doomed to remain in Runeterra. She has gray feathered wings with hints of iridescent starlight and wears elegant gray starmetal armor, a deep blue feather cloak and a circlet decorated with starmetal wings over long blonde hair streaming behind her.
She uses her wings to hover just above the ground, but walks when slowed.
Her weapon of choice is a long starmetal spear. She usually holds it one-handed, but grips it in two hands during [Q] Star of Hope.
When she dies, her corpse burns away with starlight flames, leaving no body.

• Easter egg: On her left hand she wears an enchanted ring, forged by Ornn out of stolen Runegold.

Skins

• Death-Fate Brynnhildr: Raven feathers and a black hooded cloak; one of the Greek Keres.
• Merciful Brynnhildr: Old soldiers may fade, but HEROES NEVER DIE.
• Biblically Accurate Brynnhildr: Be not afraid. (Legendary skin; three lion heads and flaming wheels rotating like helicopter blades.)

Abilities

[Passive] Taker of the Slain

"I have good news and bad news. The good news is that the Gods have taken an interest in you."
Doom-Sight: Brynnhildr has vision of all allied champion corpses on the map.
Guide the Einherjer: Brynnhildr can right click an allied champion corpse within range to fly to its location and carry off its spirit. For each spirit chosen this way, she gains bonus damage and defence until that champion respawns. This can only be performed once per corpse.

Stat	Value
Guide the Fallen: Range	400
Guide the Fallen: Buff: Bonus attack damage	5 (+level/2) (=5-14 to 20-56 total)
Guide the Fallen: Buff: Bonus armoMR	3 (+level/3) (=3-9 to 12-36 total)
Guide the Fallen: Mana cost	30

[Passive] Gray Swan

hums 'Ride of the Valkyries'
Brynnhildr can fly at a higher altitude, assuming a more streamlined pose and gaining bonus movement speed, ghosting and increased vision range.

• To activate, Brynnhildr must move in the same direction for a certain distance to attain enough lift, after which she automatically flaps her wings to climb.
• The ability ends when Brynnhildr attacks, casts an ability or takes damage.

Stat	Value
Movement speed	+30% (+2/level) (=32-66%)
Vision range	+150
Activates when moving in the same direction for a distance of	1250

[Q] Star of Hope

"Remember the dead, but fight for the living."
Brynnhildr performs a short dash with her spear, damaging the first enemy unit in her path. On impact, she flaps her starlight infused wings, dealing area effect damage to enemy units next to the target in a line perpendicular to its travel path. The dash can collide with terrain obstacles.
If Brynnhildr is in [Passive] Gray Swan mode, she performs a much longer ranged point-and-click "Swan Dive", swooping down with a shrieking cry and crashing into the target with a spear attack followed by a wing spin that deals area effect damage in a radius around the target. This version of the ability can travel over terrain obstacles.
The "Swan Dive" can also target allied champion corpses at an even longer distance, immediately applying [Passive] Taker of the Slain to the corpse.

Stat	Value
Range (Regular)	450
Range (Swan Dive)	900 (1350 if corpse targetted)
Wing strike (Regular): Width	250
Wing strike (Swan Dive): Radius	300
Wing strike: Physical damage	40/70/100/130/160 (+1.15 total AD)
Cooldown	12/11/10/9/8 seconds
Mana cost	70/75/80/85/90

[W] Between Worlds

"It is not yet your time. Return whence you came."
Brynnhildr grabs an enemy unit in melee range and carries them into the sky, making both herself and the target untargettable for a short time before dive bombing the target back down for major damage and a slow. If this is the last enemy unit and the damage kills it, she then immediately goes into [Passive] Gray Swan mode.
If Brynnhildr activates this ability during [Q] Star of Hope, it immediately casts on impact instead of waiting for the animation to finish. This deletes the wing strike and its area effect damage, dealing the damage only to the direct target, but prevents the target from escaping after the dash lands.

Stat	Value
Duration	Up to 1.25 seconds (impact occurs 0.25 seconds before the end)
Impact: Physical damage	30/50/70/90/110 (+1.0 total AD)
Impact: Slow	50% fading over 1.1/1.2/1.3/1.4/1.5 seconds
Cooldown	18/16/14/12/10 seconds
Mana cost	80/85/90/95/100

[E] Valravn

"Your fall was preordained. Come with me."
Passive: The enchantment on her Ring of Runegold increases Brynnhildr's attack speed against enemy champions and applies a stacking "Doomed" mark to the target, up to 3 stacks.
Active: Must be cast at a target in melee range with 3 "Doomed" stacks on it. Brynnhildr grabs the target and leaps backwards with a flap of her wings, taking the target with her. If she jumps over a terrain obstacle this way, the target is pulled into the obstacle and stunned, allowing her to escape.

Stat	Value
Passive: Bonus attack speed	20/25/30/35/40%
Passive: Mark duration	2 seconds (refreshed on attack)
Active: Backwards leap distance	350
Active: Terrain collision stun to target	1.5 seconds
Active: Cooldown	12/11/10/9/8 seconds
Active: Mana cost	60/65/70/75/80

[R] Götterdämmerung

"Fight. Go. Take back this world from the Gods."
Brynnhildr sends the einherjer, the immortal spirits of her chosen champions, to attack her opponents.
The einherjer are invulnerable and intangible flying warrior spirits with swords and axes (canonically they are the champions she has chosen with [Passive] Taker of the Slain). They appear behind Brynnhildr, seek out an enemy champion with "Doomed" stacks from [E] Valravn and fly into the target while swinging their weapon for damage. They pass through their target several times, turning around with wide arcs to attack again before dissipating when their attack limit is reached.

• If more than one enemy champion has stacks, the attacks are split between them depending on their relative number of stacks (if one has 3 stacks and one has 1 stack, the damage is split 75-25%).
• The stacks on the target(s) do not fall off while the spirits are attacking them.
• If the target dies, the spirits will find other targets with stacks to exhaust their remaining attacks.
• The spirits will pursue targets indefinitely, but have a maximum duration and will dissipate when it runs out regardless of how many attacks remain.
• This ability cannot be cast if there are no enemy champions with stacks within its detection radius.

The number of spirits increases based on the number of champions she has chosen with [Passive] Taker of the Slain.

Stat	Value
Detection radius	800
Number of Einherjer	3 + Number of champions currently chosen with [Passive] Taker of the Slain
Einherjer: Movement speed	600
Einherjer: Attack limit	3 (destroyed after 5 seconds)
Einherjer: Physical damage	15/25/35 (+0.1 bonus AD) (=45/75/105 (+0.3 bonus AD) per spirit) (=135/225/315 (+0.9 bonus AD) to 315/525/735 (+2.1 bonus AD) total)
Cooldown	180/140/100 seconds

Gameplay

Brynnhildr goes top or jungle, starting with [Q] Star of Hope in top lane and [E] Valravn in the jungle.
In either role, her lack of sustain hampers her ability to passively farm and she should hunt for early kills instead. Engaging with [Q] Star of Hope into [W] Between Worlds results in decent damage and delays their escape, potentially leading to a pull from [E] Valravn to stall them further while she auto attacks them.
In the jungle, she is very mobile thanks to [Passive] Gray Swan. It does need a runway to activate and turns off when she gets hit, making it much harder to use in top lane and mitigating the potentially abusive scenario of being able to hard engage from outside the opponent's range.
At level 6, the ultimate comes online. It only deals damage, and not a lot of it at first, but the spirits continue to pursue the target until their duration or attack limit runs out. It is primarily useful for counterganking and dragon fights because the damage scales up if her allies die first and [Q] Star of Hope has a very long range when aimed at an allied corpse.
Her weakest point is the mid game. Her AD scaling is not the greatest and she lacks defensive buffs and therefore needs [W] Between Worlds as an aggro dump, using it like Playful/Trickster instead of as part of her combo. This is a transitional phase and she should build hard defence at this point.
In the end game, her role shifts into a disruptive bruiser tank of sorts. Damage falls off, but her attack speed gets fast enough to chain [E] Valravn after [W] Between Worlds, trapping the target in a CC combo if they don't manage to escape the slow. Furthermore, she now benefits from staying longer in the fight due to [Passive] Taker of the Slain and the power of [R] Götterdämmerung to turn a losing teamfight around if she waits until the last moment (but no longer) to cast it.

Champion Creation Contest

• Late: I thought it said "Fate" until I read the following paragraph, but I like my version better.
• Ability with multiple distinct uses: [Q] Star of Hope can be a tactical dash with damage perpendicular to its path, or a point and click long ranged dash with splash damage.

Hi! I'm Dylan, thanks for checking out the post :)
I'll start with appearance, I'm around 6ft tall, short/medium length brown hair, a short beard (which I may start growing out soon as I'm starting a remote job!), slim build, wear glasses, currently have 4 tattoos :)
Everyone loves a list right?

• Love Horror! games, movies, books, anything! the scarier the better!! (Asian horror always at the top of the list!)
• Big gamer, Currently playing the Resident Evil 4 remake on PS4, but I also own a Nintendo Switch and a PC :)
• Picky anime fan, Haven't been able to find anything that really sucks me in recently, but the last thing I watched was the newest season of Jojo's bizarre Adventure (Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni is my favourite, so bonus points if you've seen that!)
• Love metal music, my favourite bands are Metallica (basic, right?), Slipknot, Architects and Gojira :)
• Have a pet AXOLOTL! their name is Taco and it was their first birthday last month :)

If you have any questions feel free to ask, and I'm happy to send pictures upon request :)
Have a good day!

Hi!
20 (going on 21) chronically ill female in SE QLD Australia looking for a long-term pen pal to send letters/art/stickers with.
I work from home so most of my human interactions are from behind a screen and I would rather hand-write letters to someone and use snail mail.
Big fan of horrothriller, tattoos, crafts (currently making chainmail), books, movies, and pole dancing.
I have a little baby pug and various pet insects, two spiders (tiny ones), two mantids, and a leaf insect.
I'm studying for a bachelor's of science at the local uni and majoring in maths and statistics.
Prefer a pen pal 18+, but other than that I'm not picky :)

Part 1
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think even.
Emily knows my biological mom?
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked.
Emily’s smile was as thin as ice. “I didn’t think you were ready. Now you are.”
“Ready for what?”
“You’ll know soon enough. Sleep tight, Skye. You have to go to school tomorrow.”
I couldn’t sleep. All I saw, in my nightmares and painted on the ceiling, was Alfie’s face. He whispered my name while I dreamed and wriggled into my happiest memories. I woke up screaming as his body twisted and swelled.
We will meet again. Alfie hissed through a series of clicks.
It was too quiet when I woke up the next morning. I was used to Emily yelling for me to wake up for school or my dad rushing to get dressed for work and brushing his teeth or the smell of burned bacon and pancakes and eggs down from the kitchen. Or at the very least Alfie ringing my ears off to tell me he was waiting too long outside.
But the silence whispered through the halls, sneaking into my room and tickling my heart. I rubbed my eyes and sat with my knees tucked against my chest, watching the sun rise. The sky was lit in gold as the darkness slithered away, but it was as if dawn had never arrived at all.
I got dressed and headed downstairs. At that point I realised exactly why the house was so quiet and my heart stopped cold.
Most of the stuff we owned was packed up into boxes; and anything that was too big was covered by translucent tarps. Emily and my dad were huddled together in the kitchen. They looked so lost, so hollow, like they’d just come back from Alfie’s funeral and had not stopped crying since.
“Hey morning,” I said tersely.
“Morning,” Emily said. She still wasn’t looking at me. “Did you sleep well or do you still look like a panda bear?”
“Ha ha.” I made myself some coffee. It tasted like muddy water.
Emily looked at the clock. “You better hurry up or you’ll be late for school, Sleepy Skye.”
“But—” The night before was still spinning in my mind. Questions bubbled to the back of my throat, dying on my lips.
Emily placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Skye. I’ll explain more later when the time is right.”
School felt like forever. All of my classes passed in a blur. Everyone avoided me like the plague, and whispered behind their hands when I walked past. I didn’t really care. I rested my head on my hands and wished Alfie was here. Whispering that everything would be okay.
Creak
When the last bell rang I plodded through the halls. The chatter around me had blended into a monotonous stream of nothing. I looked around me and saw Alfie’s face around me, in the couples making out near the lockers, in the teenagers huddled together like penguins.
My heart ached again.
Alfie…
My dad’s van was waiting for me at the school entrance, coughing up smoke like an old, retired dragon. It was jammed full of boxes and things wrapped in bubble paper. I was surprised it could even move a centimetre without something breaking inside.
“Hop in Skye,” said my dad, poking his head out of one window.
“Um, where are we going?”
“To my old place,” Emily explained, poking her head out of the other window. “I—we—thought it would be good for you, for…for the both of us.”
“After…after…y’know.”
Alfie died.
The wind was still once more, as if mourning over him in its deep grief too. I crumbled against the side of the van, letting hot tears stream down my cheeks.
Alfie…
Without a word more I climbed into the van and my dad sped off immediately. I gazed outside the window, watching country roads blend into billboards and highways, and let the van rock me into a soothing sleep.
“We’re here. Wake up, Sleepy Skye.”
Emily’s house, as it turned out, was a two-storey monster tucked away from the heart of the city. The paint was peeling away and the bricks underneath were slick with slime. Mold crawled between the bricks and stayed there, dying the house green. I turned away and nearly threw up.
“This way,” Emily said, climbing a set of stairs. It was really dark, and everything was covered in shadow. The only source of light was a small Gothic window that shone through the gloom in a weak white arm. Set at the side of the stairwell was a black iron door. I started towards it, but Emily glared at me, so I abandoned the door and followed her.
The second floor was surprisingly well-kept. The floors were swept and the walls clean of dust. Picture frames depicting bugs and scarabs hung onto the wall, polished until it shone. There was even a pot of tea on the table.
“Knock yourself out,” Emily said as she collapsed onto the couch. She closed her eyes.
“Make yourself at home.”
“It stinks,” I observed, wrinkling my nose.
In fact it was the worst stink I had ever smelled in my life. It tore through the walls and floors like it was made of paper and I gagged. I sprinted to the window, stuck my head out and breathed in relief.
Emily raised an eyebrow.
“There’s some…construction going on downstairs,” she explained. “We just got here, so bear with it a little longer, okay Skye?”
“Yeah,” I choked. My eyes were watering. If I could see the smell it would be a big black cloud hovering in the air, howling and shaking in its stinky fury.
“Can I explore the city? I need some fresh air.”
“Go ahead,” Emily said, turning away. “Just be back for dinner.”
I nodded. I had never sprinted out of my old house so fast in my life, rubbing my smarting eyes. Even at the distance I could smell it, and once again I felt like throwing up.
After some time I slowed to a walk and really started to look around. It wasn’t much of a city—and it also wasn’t much of a town—but somewhere in between. It was getting quite late in the day with the sun streaming slowly in from the west, but the town felt…alive in a way. Shopkeepers hollered their wares from the inside of their ornate walls, and people were strolling on the streets, their arms interlocked laughing and whistling.
I tried not to think of Alfie.
A couple of blocks away I saw a large diner, its neon sign beckoning me inside. Getting closer I could smell heaven: char-grilled meats, fresh cakes and cookies, and something else in a fryer or oven.
My stomach growled. I wiped off my drool with my sleeves.
Pushing the door open, I went in.
The diner was abuzz with chatter and laughter; people were toasting each other with glasses of beer and ale. Yet everything died the moment I came in. Time stood still; heads swiveled to look at me and a collective gasp rose from the frozen crowd. I felt like an animal in a zoo as I navigated through the chaos and found a table to sit.
“Don’t mind ‘em.”
The speaker was a living Popeye, with a big, floppy nose and bigger arms that bulged with muscles and fat and a tattoo of a beetle instead of an anchor. He was wearing a greasy, bloody apron and a cap that was too small for a nest of blonde hair.
“It’s been a while since we had anyone new around here. Thirteen years, in fact. Also, hold on…”
He squinted hard at me, his eyes moving from my head down to my legs.
“Are you Skye?”
Goosebumps pricked my skin once more. I looked outside and realised the wind had once again stood still.
“Yes! How do you know?”
The man opposite me thought for a moment, then shouted something to the kitchens. Then he sat down opposite me and grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
“Your stepmom talks about you a lot. She adores you, you know.”
He cupped my head in his hands and brushed a lock of hair off my head. Tears welled in his eyes.
“You look a lot like your mom. Same face, same eyes.”
He knocked on my face like it was a piece of wood.
Click clock
“Rock solid too.”
My hair stood up on my skin as I stared straight into the eyes of this man who I just met.
“Y-you know my biological mom too?”
The man’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s just say…kind of.”
He extended his hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself earlier. Call me Mr Lancaster. I’m the owner here.”
“I’m pleased to meet you too,” I replied, shaking his hand.
“Boss? Everything is ready.”
One of the waiters skidded to a halt near our table. He was a handsome youth—freckles and curly red hair. He held out a huge plastic bag to me.
Mr Lancaster smiled at me in a way that made my heart melt.
“Fish and chips. And I threw in some strawberry milkshakes as well. It’s one of our best dishes on the menu. Emily is always going on and on about how crazy you are for ‘em.”
“Wow! Thank you Mr Lancaster!”
“It’s on the house too. A welcome gift from me. Tell your stepmom she doesn’t have to pay back a single cent.”
He glanced out at the darkening sky, sweat mopping his brow.
“You better be going now. It’s getting late. See you soon, Skye. You’re always welcome here.”
And with that, he practically shoved me out of the door.
The bell tinkled as I stumbled onto the street, nearly tripping over the food. It was really heavy, mind you. Like a thousand dumb-bells made out of solid gold. By the time I reached my flat my arms ached.
I dropped the takeaway on the floor and sat down on one of the stairs to rest. The sun had completely set at this point; long, thin shadows crawled across the wall to the corners. Soon I was plunged in darkness. I could barely see my hand in front of my face.
My vision suddenly cleared, and I realised I could see. Somehow. Dark shapes shifted and twisted before my eyes, but I could still make out details of every brick, every scratch on the stairs and wall. The takeaway sat untouched before me.
It was like looking through an extremely grainy CCTV.
BANG BANG BANG!
As the bangs echoed throughout the hallway I froze, the excitement of my discovery gone.
BANG BANG BANG!
SKYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEE!
My name was shouted with great abandon, the call tinged with sorrow and pain. I inched closer and realised that it was coming from the iron door.
SKYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEE!
Whoever was calling me was thrashing against the door, making the hinges shake. I backed away, my heart in my throat. All the hair on my skin was standing up straight.
BANG BANG BANG!
The stink slapped me in the face, making my nose itch. My eyes didn’t leave the door as I scrambled up the stairs to the main apartment, leaving everything in the dust.
It was only when I slammed the door behind me and sprinted down the hallway to my bedroom did I realise I forgot the takeaway still sitting at the bottom of the stairs.
Oh well I told myself, trying to calm my shaking heart. I can go back in a few minutes.
I’m sure Emily and Dad won’t mind.
The city had fallen asleep. The hustle and bustle seemed to have vanished with the last of the sun. The streets were illuminated faintly with lamps that shone like a halo. My room looked like it belonged in a horror movie.
I lay on my bed for a while, squeezing my eyes shut and listening to my heart beat. The screams had long died down, but I somehow heard them long and clear in my mind, as if blasted by an invisible loudspeaker.
SKYEEEEEEE!
Low and loud, like a foghorn from a ship lost at sea.
SKYEEEEEEEEE!
“Shut up!” I screamed, my eyes welling with tears. I curled up in a ball and squeezed my head with my pillow. Even then the screams rammed against the sides of my head, over and over again, and I was dizzy from the pain.
Eventually I got out of bed and wandered throughout the house, hoping for something to distract myself from the eternal noise. The apartment was shaded in the same grainy darkness, except for the dining-room, which was glowing invitingly like a crackling campfire. Something clanged and tinkled. Cutlery probably. Either Emily or my dad setting the table. My stomach grumbled. The smell from the diner was making me hungry.
I started towards the dining room but then I heard it. A strange chitter-chatter. Like crickets, even though we lived so far from nature.
It was coming from the pictures hanging on the wall.
I hadn’t paid much attention to them when I first came in, but now it was drawing me closer like a moth to a flame. The bugs chittered again, and their legs twisted and struggled, almost like it was dancing. Looking closer, I realised that all the pictures depicted the same figure. A woman in various poses with the head of a bug with too-large eyes. She was wearing a dress that shone like fire and was glaring at the camera.
“Mom?”
I clapped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t know where that came from. I looked nothing like her. I didn’t know her. It was my first time seeing her.
But Alfie…
No, no, no! I’m mad! I must be going mad! It’s the screams, I thought, the screams were driving me cuckoo! Making me think crazy thoughts!
I forced myself to look away and shove those thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“Skye? Dinner time!”
Emily’s calls broke through the confusing mess in my head. I was grateful that she came to my rescue. Glancing back at the photo of my mum (no, she isn’t! How can I be related to…that?), I scurried down the hallway and into the dining room.
Emily had saved the takeaway.
It sat between us on the newly-dusted table. Emily pulled out foil containers and set one each before me and my dad.
“Mr Lancaster called about the fish and chips,” she explained. “He was delighted to have met you, Skye.”
She ruffled my hair, and chuckled as she handed me a strawberry milkshake. “But it looked like his little delivery girl got cold feet on her first order, eh?”
“Emily!” I groaned. I took a long sip and licked my lips. The milkshake was delicious. Rich, creamy and filled with enough sugar to make my insulin go straight into overdrive.
“Hey,” I noted, sitting down after a while. The pure sweetness of that drink was enough to make my head spin. “Mr Lancaster made some extra fish and chips.”
And it stank too. Almost as much as whatever is behind that iron door.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Emily said quickly, sweeping the bag off the table and rushing it to the kitchen. “Mr Lancaster always makes me extra. He knows I’m always hungry after midnight!”
I chuckled nervously, feeling the weight of my worries lift off my shoulders. Emily did eat a lot after midnight. A couple of times I had spotted her sneaking to the living room with the television on and a bag of chips.
Yet this particular container stuck out like a sore thumb. Not just the smell, or how big it was compared to the others, but…but, was it me or was it glowing?
I buried that thought into the deepest recesses of my mind. No. I had enough wild and crazy thoughts and visions for one night.
Succumbing to them was not what Alfie would have wanted.
That was not what any of us would have wanted.
Once we had finished dinner, I helped to clear the table and wash the cutlery. Emily turned to me and said:
“I’ve got some things to do tonight. Take care, Skye, and take care of your dad.”
“He does not look well.”
Sick actually. Dad looked like he was going to throw up. He staggered to the couch and passed out on the leather. I couldn’t help but pity him. Fifty-six years old, and all that oil into the fish and chips was not doing his heart any good.
“I’ll look after him,” I promised.
“Good girl.” Emily gave me another thin smile. She pulled on a jacket—a black jacket with a golden rim—and gave me a kiss on my forehead.
“I won’t be long.”
Emily strode out of the house, taking the last box of fish and chips with her. There was something clinking in her pocket, like suits or armor banging together. And just as she stepped out of the front door, she pulled out that something from her pocket. I only saw it for a brief second, but it was enough to make my heart race.
It was a key. But not just any key.
This one was black. Like evil. Like ash. Like the iron door.
It smirked at me as it hid back in her pocket. A shiver ran up my spine.
“Emily, wait!”
“Is there a problem, Skye?”
“Yeah. I wanna ask you something.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. There was a lump in my throat and my heart was beating way too fast.
“The iron door on the first floor…what’s behind it?”
“It’s nothing, Skye,” Emily said. Her eyes darted to somewhere behind me and fixed on one of the bug women. “Just some of my old stuff, y’know? From before I met your dad?”
“Right…”
“Now I have to go. I’ll be late otherwise. I’ll see you later, okay Skye?”
I swallowed as I watched her leave. Uncertainty still sat tight in my stomach, wound up like a spring, and wouldn’t let go.
“Dad? You okay?”
No response. My dad was out like a light.
Then his eyes shot open.
I gulped.
They got bigger and bigger. I saw each individual vein popping out and weaving into each other like mini spider webs.
Then it bulged and swelled. His head enlarged to accommodate it.
Chills shot down my spine as I realised exactly what was going on.
“Dad?”
Click click click.
His lips split and burst into mandibles. I scrambled over and held his hand.
“Don’t do this to me. Don’t be like Alfie.”
I was crying. I was shaking. Oh god, I was shaking so bad it felt like I was in an earthquake.
Click click click
I scrambled over and held his hand. It only seemed to make it worse, however. I watched as it shrank and turned black and folded into itself.
“Dad! Fight it!”
He hunched over and coughed out so much more blood.
Ack ack ack
“DAD!”
His spine was curving over and hardening into a black shell. I dropped his hand and backed away into a corner, my face white.
Ack ack ack.
The floor was blooming. Grass spread thin like a carpet and tall trees grew. I saw red flowers explode onto new branches, like a bundle of fireworks.
My dad clicked and clacked, as if enjoying the new scenery.
No…
My skin was crawling. Literally. I looked down and saw bumps pulsing beneath the folds, marching along to my heartbeat. Then it broke and a cockroach popped out. It took a deep breath, bowed, clicked and clacked in the same rhythm as my dad’s—slow and steady, a pulse—
And…
And I SWEAR I heard the cockroach say:
“Your Highness.”
I screamed. It bounced off new grass and fresh flora.
I’m really going mad now.
I pinched myself, wondering if I was living in some kind of nightmare. But I wasn’t. It was as real as the still lights from the street lamps shining in through the window.
Click clack.
More cockroaches were spilling out from my skin like a dam left unchecked. My dad looked at me inquisitively. Cement was quickly turning into dirt.
Click clack
My thoughts were clambering over each other as I squatted, paralysed in my corner, watching the cockroaches with my mouth open. My dad—no longer human—crawled into the walls and towards me. Staring at the roaches and slowly reaching out to them. They squeaked and climbed over him.
This was too much. I did the only thing I could think of.
My phone was butter in my hands. My vision blurred and I kept on punching in the wrong numbers.
Thankfully, Emily answered the phone on the first ring.
I took a deep breath and screamed into the receiver. My voice was shaking so bad I was surprised I could say anything at all.
“EMILY! HELP!”
SK

Final part in the series about the mirroring act between the three Aen Elle elves & their Continental counterparts. Previous works: Black Knights: Parallels Between Eredin & Cahir Love(less) Sorcerers: Parallels Between Avallac'h & Vilgefortz
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“Emperors rule their empires, but two things they cannot rule: their hearts and their time. Those two things belong to the empire.”
“The end justifies the means.”
Leaders of the highest order for their people, both rulers pursue the greater good at the expense of decency and their own humanity. A greater good to be achieved through similar means – by begetting the child who is prophesised.

Intent

In the Witcher, both Auberon and Emhyr are embroiled in a plot of siring the child of prophecy with Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon – their blood relative. Genetically, the incest is a matter of degree: Emhyr is Ciri’s biological father, Auberon Ciri’s ancestor 8 generations past. Symbolically, however, the degree collapses with Auberon because a few human generations are meaningless to elves. They call Ciri Lara’s daughter, effectively deeming Ciri Auberon’s granddaughter. But the reader – not unlike Ciri herself – won’t know about this until the very end of the tale.
Notionally, both rulers bind their actions with Ithlinne’s prophecy. The problem with prophecies is they decouple arguments from verification, lending themselves to the rationalization of all and any action. At least insofar as knowing the future accurately is impossible. This is the case for humanity, it is not the case for elves. Elven prophecies were made by the elves and for the elves in the first place. Consequently, the degree to which each ruler knows the prophecy to be true and believes in it differs. For Emhyr, mystical secret knowledge of the universe is irrelevant in comparison to political expedience: reason of state is what the tomorrow will bring. The Nilfgaardian Emperor is neither a mystic nor a fatalist. Contrary to the Alder King – a Sage, a ruler, and an elder – who has witnessed and likely verified some of what the Seers have prophesised. Elves conceive of the nature of time as cyclical in which the fate of things is tied up in the endless repetition of endings giving birth to new beginnings, the dance of attraction between life and death, two sides of the same coin which form the singular eternal truth of existence – change is only an eternal reoccurrence and re-arrangement of all. Auberon, you see, is a bit of a mystic. And even without Seers privy to secret knowledge, an extraordinary life span reduces the elves’ proclivity to black swan fallacy, or at least pushes the error probabilities. But at the end of the day, mysticism takes the cake.
The idea that either ruler must be the progenitor, however, comes at the instigation of an outside force.
Shortly after Ciri’s birth Emhyr is visited by a sorcerer. Emhyr has a strong aversion to mages; he was cursed by one. Even so, Vilgefortz proves himself capable of helping him regain the Nilfgaardian throne and is straightforward about what he wishes in exchange – gratitude, favours, privileges, power. Vilgefortz tells Emhyr about Ithlinne’s prophecy – a version about the fate of the world; a human interpretation. Then he plants the seed as to what Emhyr should do to steer the fate of this world. Naturally, he has his own agenda. It is not a huge leap of imagination to conceive of Auberon having been similarly persuaded by Avallac’h (an elven Knowing One who thematically parallels the human Vilgefortz). Not only are Avallac’h and Auberon tied by broken familial bonds, they are each a participant of the Elder Blood programme; and each, a Sage. Avallac’h serves nearly as a double for Auberon, his own fate also tied with Ciri’s. And Auberon is a “willing unwilling” in his arrangement with Ciri; implied so in his rage when he reveals Ciri ought to be grateful to him for lowering himself to the endeavour at all. There is an alternative.
Neither the Emperor nor the Alder King is pursuing the incestuous course of action out of lust. But both have the option to waive being the sire. Ithlinne’s prophecy is not explicit about the father of the Swallow’s child. For elves the match is backed by science. For humanity – pragmatism.
Emhyr has ordered to wipe out the Usurper’s name from the annals of history and is cementing his earthly power, conquering and ensuring the succession laws play out in his favour. Not only is he legitimatizing his rule over Cintra – the gateway to the North – by marrying its last monarch’s granddaughter, by keeping it in the family, he is also consolidating his rule among the Nilfgaardian aristocracy. The Emperor’s concern lies with the dynastic struggle for power: it is his blood that should rule the world and because history is bending its arc according to Nilfgaard’s dictation that means surmounting the Nilfgaardian succession laws. From such perspective, not fathering Ciri’s child would create numerous problems. Ciri as Emhyr’s heir would remain behind any other male offspring he might have (with any Nilfgaardian aristocrat). Ciri might not be acknowledged as a legitimate successor in Nilfgaard in the first place as she is a foreigner, born in Cintra at a time when her father was not yet an emperor; a bastard, effectively, and a girl besides. Ciri’s husband, moreover, may have designs on power himself and his remaining under Emhyr’s control, or Ciri’s control, is not a guarantee. It is difficult to be the correctly-shaped chess piece in a game of interests of the state. That a widely recited prophecy about the fate of the world can lend an aura of destiny to the brutal political machinations undertaken to seek retribution and pursue earthly power is convenient; a descendant who will be the ruler of the world – a bonus. But to get there sacrifices must be made.

‘Cirilla,’ continued the emperor, ‘will be happy, like most of the queens I was talking about. It will come with time. Cirilla will transfer the love that I do not demand at all onto the son I will beget with her. An archduke, and later an emperor. An emperor who will beget a son. A son, who will be the ruler of the world and will save the world from destruction. Thus speaks the prophecy whose exact contents only I know.’ ’What I am doing, I am doing for posterity. To save the world.’ - Lady of the Lake

Notably, the manner in which the Emperor claims to understand Ithlinne’s prophecy does not make guarantees that a father’s incest with his daughter will ensure his progeny will one day save the world. The saviour is a few generations away and the causal arrow between now and then is not direct: the son could die, could father a child with a genetically non-fitting partner, could be sterile, or could turn out to be a daughter altogether. Not to even begin with what the world needs saving from in the first place; again, elven prophecies were written by the elves and for the elves. Emhyr var Emreis is neither an elf, a geneticist, an idealist nor a mystic. He is an autocrat.
Elder Blood is the creation of elves and it is elves who understand how their genetic abilities play into handling what was foretold by Ithlinne. Emhyr’s daughter, the Lady of Time and Space, is the descendant of an Alder King who has utilized Hen Ichaer in the past and whose ambitions lie in an altogether different ball park than that of an Emperor of one single world. Appropriately to the Saga’s love for subversion, it is ironic that human understanding of elven prophecies remains on the level of poetry, while elves – the irritatingly poetic, mystical species – can read the science elevating the prophetic jargon into something more. Which regardless does not invalidate the problem with prophecies: they lend themselves to the rationalization of action, frequently covering up the real horses the powerful might have in the race. Legitimatization of the ruler’s right to remain the leader of their people is relevant in Auberon’s life too. More on that when we return to the Fisher King parable and the nature of curses upon the two rulers.

Role & Relationships

Let’s take a look at the characters’ personalities.
Appearance: a play of contrasts
A very tall, slender elf with long fingers and ashen hair shot with snow-white streaks. An elf with the most extraordinary eyes – as on all Elder Blood carriers – reminiscent of molten lead. A man with black, shiny, wavy hair bordering an angular, masculine face that is dominated by a prominent nose (hooked, presumably, or Roman if you like). The Emperor of Nilfgaard does not resemble an androgynous elf by any means. But this does not mean nothing remains in him of the elven gene pool. Not only does Emhyr’s etymological origin link with the Romano-Celtic world underpinning all things elven in the Witcher. Nilfgaardians are effectively the Romano-Brytons. The human population in the South of the Continent mixed with elves heavily, retaining a lot of elven law, customs, language, and DNA. As Avallac’h says about heritability, “the father matters,” and Emhyr was one half of the equation for getting Ciri.
Rex Regum - King of Kings
The readers are probably more familiar with the imperial system and how that features in the depiction of Nilfgaard. Auberon Muircetach’s position as the Supreme Leader of the Aen Elle – as opposed to merely a “king” – is instead much more reminiscent of the station of a High King.
Ancient and early kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland boast many High Kings (e.g. Ard Rí Érenn Brian Boru, Ard Rí Alban Macbeth, Vortigern, King of the Britons, etc). The High King was usually elected and set above lesser rulers and warlords as an overlord in a land that shared a high degree of cultural unity. Emperors usually ruled over culturally different lands (regularly obtained through recent or ongoing conquests). In character such high kingship was sacred: the duties of the ruler were largely ceremonial and somewhat restricted, unless war, natural disaster or any other realm-wide occasion created a need for a unified command structure. The Irish High King, for example, was quite straightforwardly a ruler who laid claim to all of the land of the Emerald Isle. Noteworthy, because the ruler is frequently seen as the embodiment of the land, associated with the health and well-being of the realm that the land sustains. In quasi-religious terms, High Kings gained their power through a marriage to, or sexual relationship with, a sovereignty goddess; frequently, a mother goddess who was associated with the life-giving land. As one of the most frequently studied elements of the Celtic cosmology, this feature is instantly recognisable in the outlook of the elves in the Witcher and factors heavily into Auberon’s relationship with Ciri. Ciri who is the avatar of the Triple Goddess – the Virgin, the Pregnant Mother, and the Old Woman Death. As Sapkowski notes in Swiat króla Artura. Maladie:

“…no Wiccan mystery in honour of the Great Triple, cannot be performed, [without] the goblet and the sword. Grail and Excalibur. The rest is silence.”

Through the Triple Goddess’ interaction with her God-counterpart (a ruler who briefly assumes the role of the god) is showcased the eternal cycle of life – one which cannot be realised without the interaction of the cup (feminine) & the sword (male). Excalibur is the symbol of rightful sovereignty and its wielders are frequently powerful men, but Ciri is a woman and a woman is the Grail, bringing salvation and new life. To possess the Grail is to legitimize oneself as the ruler, as the leader, protector, and father figure of the realm. Thus a King of Kings must do exactly that. A protector, a father figure, and a druid (wise man) merge into a symbolic whole in the Supreme Leader of the elves.
(But Ciri is also the witcher girl and owns a sword, unyielding before the matter of her gender. And though many a men might take her for the Lady of the Lake, she is not about to part with her sword.)
The realm is all
From early age, Emhyr’s father instilled an understanding in his heir that nothing counts more than the interest of the state. The blood of the Emreis family must be on the throne. Fergus never abdicated, not after torture, not even after his son was turned into a mutant hedgehog in front of his eyes. Love for his child did not sway Fergus from having his son suffer in the interests of power and the realm. This is how the shard of ice in Emhyr’s heart forms. Auberon, equally, “thinks of England” when attempting to regain his daughter’s legacy and restore their people’s power. The circumstances of Lara’s demise, however, beg the question about the Alder King’s role in facilitating or enabling the conditions that let things spiral out of control and break beyond repair. The stakes were infinitely higher for Auberon than they are for Emreis’ dynastic struggle. But what would an answer to this question change? In their cold hearts these characters see themselves each as duty-bound.
Ambitious and gloried, they nevertheless occupy different stages in their lives.
Emhyr’s ambition burns bright and fresh. Auberon’s has dwindled into a shadow of the past; buried under having witnessed and lived through the sacrifices that a ruler makes in the name of power. Emhyr chooses to seek retribution and power beyond what would befall him should he accept his life as Duny (the cursed, pitiful Duny), the prince consort of Cintra. Never losing sight of his goal, love and human happiness become temporary phases and means to an end, and Emhyr returns to Cintra only in the form of flames and death to pursue his daughter in insane ambition. The White Flame retains an active disposition; a lust for life. Neither Emhyr nor Auberon gallop at the head of their armies though, leading instead from the rear. They have lackeys for carrying out their will remotely (e.g. Cahir and Eredin). Emhyr, however, is said to be otherwise highly involved in the ruling of his empire, even if many revolutionaries who had helped him on the throne had hoped he would remain but a banner of the revolution. In contrast, the Alder King has more or less withdrawn from life and active service. In presence of Avallac’h and Eredin, Auberon appears much more like the standard Emhyr had refused to become. Of course, many decisions the equivalent of which Auberon has already made are still ahead of Emhyr, including as concerns the freedom of his daughter.
A ruler’s heart
Did Emhyr believe that he would be able to see Pavetta in Ciri and thus push through with the incest? Did Auberon hope to glance the memory of his wife in the eyes of Lara’s “daughter” and manage in this way? As already noted, neither ruler is pursuing their plans out of lust, but as lust must be induced for the act to bear fruit I cannot help but wonder what these characters must do to themselves to follow through with their plans. Because the love that is called for between a woman and a man in order for new life and hope to be born is in this instance abnormal. Yet it is undoubtedly love that plays a huge role in determining both Emhyr’s and Auberon’s eventual fate.
Until the emergence of false-Ciri, Emhyr var Emreis is said to have had numerous ladies in the imperial court. Little is known about Auberon’s disposition, but by the time Ciri starts frequenting his bed chamber it has become evident the image of a dowager king fits the elf like a glove; disaffected with romantic dalliance, he is still aware of the courtly intrigue and expectations surrounding it.

The next evening, for the first time, the Alder King betrayed his impatience. She found him hunched over the table where a looking glass framed in amber was lying. White powder had been sprinkled on it. It’s beginning, she thought. … At one moment Ciri was certain it was about to happen. But it didn’t. At least not all the way. And once again he became impatient. He stood up and threw a sable fur over his shoulders. He stood like that, turned away, staring at the window and the moon. - Lady of the Lake

Emhyr’s marriage to Pavetta, Ciri’s mother, was an unhappy one. In his own words, he did not love “the melancholy wench with her permanently lowered eyes,” and eventually would have had the vigilant Pavetta killed. Inadvertently, Emhyr caused Pavetta’s death anyway.

‘I wonder how a man feels after murdering his wife,’ the Witcher said coldly. ‘Lousy,’ replied Emhyr without delay. ‘I felt and I feel lousy and bloody shabby. Even the fact that I never loved her doesn’t change that. The end justifies the means, yet I sincerely do regret her death. I didn’t want it or plan it. Pavetta died by accident.’ ‘You’re lying,’ Geralt said dryly, ‘and that doesn’t befit an emperor. Pavetta could not live. She had unmasked you. And would never have let you do what you wanted to do to Ciri.’ ‘She would have lived,’ Emhyr retorted. ‘Somewhere … far away. There are enough castles … Darn Rowan, for instance. I couldn’t have killed her.’ ‘Even for an end that was justified by the means?’ ‘One can always find a less drastic means.’ The emperor wiped his face. ‘There are always plenty of them.’ ‘Not always,’ said the Witcher, looking him in the eyes. Emhyr avoided his gaze. ‘That’s exactly what I thought,’ Geralt said, nodding. - Lady of the Lake

After Pavetta’s demise Emhyr hounds his own daughter to the ends of the earth, killing her grandmother, burning down her home, and driving Ciri into an exile from which she never fully recovers. An exile which kills the innocence in her; the snow-white streaks in Ciri’s hair are from the trauma. In contrast, Auberon does not seem to even know what became of Shiadhal – his partner and the mother of their daughter together. On the verge of death he confuses Ciri for Shiadhal and says, “I am glad you are here. You know, they told me you had died.” The Alder King recalls Shiadhal affectionately, in the same loving breath as he recalls their daughter Lara. Lara whose exile – voluntary or not – killed her.
When Ciri was six years old, Emhyr took a lock of hair from her and held onto it; out of sentiment and for his court sorcerers to use. One of Auberon’s last lines to Ciri involves tying a loose ribbon back into Lara’s hair.
In regard to their brides-to-be, both rulers are saddled with fakes. A fake Ciri-Pavetta and a fake Shiadhal-Lara. But Emhyr’s and Auberon’s attitude toward the fake is diametrically opposite. Emhyr sees false-Cirilla as “a diamond in the rough.” Auberon calls Ciri “a pearl in pig shit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse.” For Emhyr, a diamond is the essence of his poor peasant girl. While a pearl in pig shit, for Auberon, remains the essence of Ciri. Neither ruler can entirely ignore the social vigilance extended toward the ruler’s bedchamber either. The idea of a “foreign bride” is frowned upon among the Nilfgaardian aristocracy; it decreases their ability to influence the Emperor. Ciri’s social status at Tir ná Lia is never explicitly addressed, but the presence of human servants – all of whom that the reader sees are female – and casual xenophobia from Auberon himself does not make it hard to venture a guess.

‘If I were … the real Cirilla … the emperor would look more favourably on me. But I’m only a counterfeit. A poor imitation. A double, not worthy of anything. Nothing …’ - False-Cirilla Lady of the Lake
‘It’s all my fault,’ she mumbled. ‘That scar blights me, I know. I know what you see when you look at me. There’s not much elf left in me. A gold nugget in a pile of compost—’ - Ciri Lady of the Lake

The Alder King is unable to bring himself to love Ciri. The Emperor relents, caring for his daughter at last as a father should at the very end, in the one moment where it matters. Moreover, Emhyr ends up eventually marrying his own reason of state and comes to love the false-Cirilla. The contrasts do not end here. Real Ciri threatens to tear Emhyr’s throat out for what he is planning to do to her (unknowing that he is her father), yet with Auberon Ciri turns submissive and grows attached. She weeps over Auberon’s corpse and vows vengeance on Eredin for killing the Alder King. Ironic as Auberon never intended to let Ciri go, while Emhyr does let his daughter walk free. The shard in Auberon’s heart never melts. It shifts in Emhyr’s.
In their last meeting with the girl, both rulers implicitly reveal their blood relation to Ciri.

Cursed Rulers of the World

Emhyr’s tale begins and is framed with a curse. Likewise Auberon’s. And for both it is love in its different manifestations that will shift the curse just enough to offer closure. For healing largely entails obtaining closure.

‘They were silent for a long time. The scent of spring suddenly made them feel light-headed. Both of them. ‘In spite of appearances,’ Emhyr finally said dully, ‘being empress is not an easy job. I don’t know if I’ll be able to love you.’ She nodded to show she also knew. He saw a tear on her cheek. Just like in Stygga Castle, he felt the tiny shard of cold glass lodged in his heart shift.’ - Lady of the Lake

The reference to H. C. Andersen’s fairy tale of the Snow Queen is self-evident. Emhyr var Emreis is an Emperor whose heart has been pierced by a shard of ice. In the Saga the legend is elven and refers to the Winter Queen who conducts a Wild Hunt as she travels the land, casting hard, sharp, tiny shards of ice around her. Whose eye or heart is pierced by one of them is lost; they will abandon everything and will set off after the Queen, the one who wounded them so gravely as to become the sole aim and end of their life.
There are two ways in which to interpret the way Sapkowski applies the legend of the Snow Queen in the Saga. First, as a complement to the author’s stance that in life - where most things are shit - the Holy Grail is a woman, because it is the love of a woman and the hope a woman instils that often makes men act in inconceivable ways; love is the great motivator and the great balancer of scales. Almost as powerful as death. Or more so?

‘I would not like to put forward the theory that hunting for the wild pig was the primordial example of the search for the Grail. I don’t want to be so trivial. I will - after Parnicki and Dante - identify the Grail with the real goal of the great effort of mythical heroes. I prefer to identify the Grail with Olwen, from under whose feet, as she walked, white clovers grew. I prefer to identify the Grail with Lydia, who was loved by Parry. I like New York in June… How about you? Because I think the Grail is a woman. It is worth investing a lot of time and effort in order to find it and gain it, to understand it. And that’s the moral.’ - A. Sapkowski Swiat króla Artura. Maladie

In this reading, we find the framing to the stories of Geralt and Yennefer, Lara and Cregennan, Avallac’h and Lara, and many others. Including the story of Ciri herself – for Ciri is ultimately the author’s Grail in more ways than one. More than one party goes to great lengths to solicit her favour in a guise that includes elements of a love relationship but not the heart of it.
Secondly, we can interpret the legend in universal terms: the shard of ice is the definitive experience of our lives which distorts reality and makes the rest of our lives spin around it in one way or another. For Emhyr, such an experience could have been the trauma experienced in his youth. Fergus’ uncompromising death conditioned the boy early on to sacrifice personal feelings to the cause and let the only true feeling in his heart remain forever locked behind the ends a ruler must go to unthinkable lengths to achieve. Fergus did not deem his son above suffering for a cause and the son learned the lesson. Until…
In Andersen’s Snow Queen, Gerda manages to find her brother Kai in the Snow Queen’s castle, but despite her calls his heart remains cold as ice. Only when Gerda cries in despair do her tears finally melt the ice and remove the piece of glass from Kai’s eyes and heart. In the Witcher, the shard in Emhyr’s heart moves first upon witnessing his true daughter’s angry tears. For the second time – in thanks to the bogus princess of Cintra; his poor raison d’etat.
It brings us to the defining contrast in Emhyr’s and Auberon’s stories, and it concerns alleviating the suffering of those are bound to you by blood or love.
Recalling another case of incest that resulted in Adda the strigga, we may remember that the Temerian king recognises that his daughter is suffering and insists on disenchanting her instead of killing her. Realising that your own blood – who has been thrown into this world of suffering thanks to you – is suffering and consequently choosing to do something to alleviate this suffering fortifies the Saga’s faith in enduring human decency. Geralt himself is thoroughly vexed by the prospect of letting the same evil happen to Ciri that happened to himself and does everything within his power to prevent it (failing, trying anyway). Here lives the redemption of man, and in redemption his rebirth.

‘They passed a pond, empty and melancholy. The ancient carp released by Emperor Torres had died two days earlier. “I’ll release a new, young, strong, beautiful specimen,” thought Emhyr var Emreis, “I’ll order a medal with my likeness and the date to be attached to it. Vaesse deireadh aep eigean. Something has ended, something is beginning. It’s a new era. New times. A new life. So let there be a new carp too, dammit.”’ - Lady of the Lake

As Emhyr and false-Cirilla take a stroll in the gardens after Stygga, they pass a sculpture of a pelican pecking open its own breast to feed its young on its blood. An allegory of noble sacrifice and also of great love – as False-Ciri tells us.

‘Do you think—’ he turned her to face him and pursed his lips ‘—that a torn-open breast hurts less because of that?’ ‘I don’t know …’ she stammered. ‘Your Imperial Majesty … I …’ He took hold of her hand. He felt her shudder; the shudder ran along his hand, arm and shoulder. ‘My father,’ he said, ‘was a great ruler, but never had a head for legends or myths, never had time for them. And always mixed them up. Whenever he brought me here, to the park, I remember it like yesterday, he always said that the sculpture shows a pelican rising from its ashes.’ - Lady of the Lake

It is difficult to set aside our trauma and not pass it on to our children. Letting our children be free to choose and not sacrificing them on the altar of our fate is to rip open ourselves, calcified and bound to our path, and to feel all of it as we grope in the dark to feel for them. Emhyr’s father might not have gotten it entirely wrong, though his mind at the time was set on making his child an extension of himself. The cycle of death and rebirth begins and ends within that to which we give birth. Giving our children a chance before it is too late, we also give a chance to ourselves. By finding it in his heart to extend to his daughter the courtesy his father Fergus never extended to him - by letting Ciri free - Emhyr lets the part of himself that has defined his entire life die. His end stops justifying the means. He breaks the cycle on the edge of the precipice to which he has brought them and thus allows for the possibility of new beginnings for himself and for Ciri.
In a sense, False-Cirilla and Emhyr get the ending Ciri and Auberon might have gotten if –
If.
The story of Auberon Muircetach achieves a fundamentally different resolution.

‘What does the spear with the bloody blade mean? Why does the King with the lanced thigh suffer and what does it mean? What is the meaning of the maiden in white carrying a grail, a silver bowl—?’ - Galahad Lady of the Lake

Galahad asks the questions that the innocent Perceval in his Story of the Grail failed to ask, thus losing his chance at freeing the Fisher King from his curse. And the Fisher King is the guardian of mysteries, among them the Holy Grail. But it is not because of gain that a chivalric knight with a shining sword should seek to free the Fisher King from his curse, but rather because it is a human thing to do. Sapkowski claims to be partial to Wolfram von Eschenbach’s rendition of the Grail myth in Parsifal. Wolfram’s message, according to Sapkowski, is the following:

‘Let’s not wait for the revelation and the command that comes from above, let’s not wait for any Deus vult. Let’s look for the grail in ourselves. Because the Grail is nobility, it is the love of a neighbor, it is an ability for compassion. Real chivalric ideals, towards which it is worth looking for the right path, cutting through the wild forest, where, as they quote, “there is no road, no path”. Everyone has to find their path on their own. But it is not true that there is only one path. There are many of them. Infinitely many. … Being human is important. Heart.’ ‘I prefer the humanism of Wolfram von Eschenbach and Terry Gilliam from the idiosyncrasies of bitter Cistercian scribes and Bernard of Clairvaux…’ - A. Sapkowski Swiat króla Artura: Maladie

The unimaginable sadness in Auberon’s eyes belies the suffering of the Alder King who is the avatar of the Fisher King. In the Witcher’s story between elves and humans, it is the elven males who all share aspects of the Fisher King’s fate, because they are the keepers of their Grail – the protectors of elven women. Auberon’s wound is wrought by time: by surviving his wife and daughter, by the witnessing of the fading of his ambitions and the results of pursuing them without success. He has lost his line. The Fisher King’s injury represents the inability to produce an heir. A ruler who is the protector and physical embodiment of his land, yet remains barren, sterile, or without a true-born successor, bodes ill for the realm. The Alder King’s injury consists in having lost control of the source of his people’s power, leaving the elves imprisoned and scattered across two worlds. Auberon’s personal tragedy, however, subsists in the lost power having been functionally manifest in a daughter.

‘Lara.’ The Alder King moved his head, and touched his neck as though his royal torc’h was garrotting him. ‘Caemm a me, luned. Come to me, daughter. Caemm a me, elaine.’ Ciri sensed death in his breath. - Lady of the Lake

Elder Blood is indeed an accursed blood because it enslaves its carriers to its purpose. Emhyr has a theoretical chance to walk away from the pursuit of earthly power; the construct is social. Elder Blood, however, has a particular and real, magical function, and in virtue of being a genetic mutation it is embedded in the gene-carrying individuals. Functionally, Elder Blood allows to shape fate with degrees of freedom unimaginable for an ordinary individual. It’s a difference comparable to the one between a character in a story and the story’s author. Therefore the Aen Saevherne – the carriers of the gene – are bound to the thing they carry within their DNA that allows them to a greater and lesser degree shape the fate of reality. However dearly Auberon, or Lara, might have ever wished to untie themselves from their own essence, it seems impossible. The loss of control over power then is quite simply so pivotal as to necessitate a moment of original sin.
As already witnessed by way of the legend of the Winter Queen, the original “myths” of the Witcher world usually originate among elves; humans, the interlopers, push themselves into those myths only later. This creates an interesting conundrum. In Parsifal, the Fisher King is injured as punishment for taking a wife who is not meant for him. A Grail keeper is to marry the woman the Grail determines for him, which – if we equate woman with the Grail – is what the woman determines. Unfortunately, we know nothing about Shiadhal, so we cannot verify if this part of the legend dovetails. But generally, in a wholly elven world which may have matriarchal tendencies, in lieu of worshipping the mother Goddess, such cosmology is relatively unproblematic. Except suddenly there are humans too. And Auberon – the highest leader of elves and the father of the new scion of Elder Blood – is indirectly injured because a human sorcerer – Cregennan – turns himself into a Grail keeper (in place of another, special elf) by taking a woman not meant for him.

‘Witcher,’ she whispered, kissing his cheek, ‘there’s no romance in you. And I… I like elven legends, they are so captivating. What a pity humans don’t have any legends like that. Perhaps one day they will? Perhaps they’ll create some? But what would human legends deal with? All around, wherever one looks, there’s greyness and dullness. Even things which begin beautifully lead swiftly to boredom and dreariness, to that human ritual, that wearisome rhythm called life.’ - Yennefer Sword of Destiny

Cregennan’s injury is to die. But what about the original Fisher King figure? What is Auberon’s original sin in this?
I see two possibilities. It could be that Auberon in his ambition hastened his daughter’s way into exile and, in a display of his displeasure, never made any effort to ease his daughter in to the personal sacrifices they, as Aen Saevherne, must make; walking without blinking to the end of the path Emhyr turned away from. It could equally be that Auberon, instead of locking Lara up in a tower to protect her from the folly of youth, let her go to Cregennan. It could be an amalgam of both, and the misjudgement of a father who allows freedom, who feels for his child, and is rewarded with an irreversible injury is probably the greater tragedy.
Because, regardless of the origin of the curse upon Auberon, one thing does not change – the icy eternity in the Alder King’s heart never fractures.

‘‘Zireael,’ he said. ‘Loc’hlaith. You are indeed destiny, O Lady of the Lake. Mine too, as it transpires.’ - Auberon Lady of the Lake

Ciri passes through the shadow world of the Alders; a manifestation of fate. Her footsteps sowing discord and movement and change into the immutable, time-locked amber of the elven utopia. Her presence providing the trigger that will unshackle the past from future in a world where for a long time nothing has changed, died, or been reborn. She is destined and destiny, annihilation and rebirth, the grain of sand in the gears of the great mechanism; a strange girl. The child of hope and the Goddess who ought to be Three. Lara, the true daughter of the Alder King, is dead. Emhyr’s daughter still lives. There is nothing Auberon can do for Lara anymore and thus the ice in Auberon’s heart has crystallised. Emhyr still has a chance; he is where Auberon once was. And yet, there is one thing Ciri, the witcher girl with a sword of her own, can still do for the Alder King.

‘Va’esse deireadh aep eigean… But,’ he finished with a sigh, ‘it’s good that something is beginning.’ They heard a long-drawn-out peal of thunder outside the window. The storm was still far away. But it was approaching fast. ‘In spite of everything,’ he said, ‘I very much don’t want to die, Zireael. And I’m so sorry that I must. Who’d have thought it? I thought I wouldn’t regret it. I’ve lived long, I’ve experienced everything. I’ve become bored with everything … but nonetheless I feel regret. And do you know what else? Come closer. I’ll tell you in confidence. Let it be our secret.’ She bent forward. ‘I’m afraid,’ he whispered. ‘I know.’ ‘Are you with me?’ ‘Yes, I am.’ - Auberon Lady of the Lake

The only way Ciri the Grail knight will be able to find her true self – the Grail – is to cure the suffering Alder King from his curse. Ciri’s presence in the world of the Alders is after all also part of her coming of age story. Through becoming Auberon’s destiny, Ciri must close the circle for him and bring closure. He would never let her go because the shard in Auberon’s heart is no longer able to melt. Auberon does not follow the motif of alleviating the suffering of one’s blood and/or love; and he dies. The roles are reversed, in fact. It is Ciri who realises Auberon is suffering. So Ciri must do what only she can do, because remaining human is important. Heart is important. The sacrifice a ruler makes on the altar of power includes his own heart, which is why there should never be only one, but always two; always.

‘Time is like the ancient Ouroboros. Time is fleeting moments, grains of sand passing through an hourglass. Time is the moments and events we so readily try to measure. But the ancient Ouroboros reminds us that in every moment, in every instant, in every event, is hidden the past, the present and the future. Eternity is hidden in every moment. Every departure is at once a return, every farewell is a greeting, every return is a parting. Everything is simultaneously a beginning and an end. ‘And you too,’ he said, not looking at her at all, ‘are at once the beginning and the end. And because we are discussing destiny, know that it is precisely your destiny. To be the beginning and the end. Do you understand?’ She hesitated for a moment. But his glowing eyes forced her to answer. ‘I do.’ - Lady of the Lake

Death Crone to Auberon Muircetach, Ciri never becomes the Mother Goddess in the Saga. It is a choice she must make for herself and the choice still lies ahead of her. The predicate to making such a choice at least for now, however, she achieves; she goes her own way. In a sense then, both rulers are father figures, who through their choices “beget” the child who is destined. Perhaps this too the Knowing Ones knew, and for this reason Auberon never could have budged, never could have changed his mind in regard to his purpose in the long and winding story of his life. Something is ending, but something is also beginning. A good ruler is responsible for the flourishing of their realm, for providing hope. It is Ciri’s role to be the beginning and the end, and though there might be ways in which to nudge the hand of Fate, whatever is destined must happen. Destiny, however accursed, must run its course.
That is the hope and the release.

Mar 26, 2023
Like a lot of people who get into professional wrestling, Donovan Danhausen had a vision of a different version of himself. Ten years ago, at age 21, he was living in Detroit, working as a nursing assistant at a hospital, watching a lot of “Adult Swim” and accumulating a collection of horror- and comedy-themed tattoos.
At the suggestion of a friend, he took a 12-week training course at the House of Truth wrestling school in Center Line, Mich., and then entered the indie circuit as a hand: an unknown, unpaid wrestler who shows up at events and does what’s asked of him, typically setting up the ring or pretending to be a lawyer or another type of extra. When he ran out of momentum five years later, he developed the character of Danhausen. Originally supposed to be an evil demon, Danhausen found that the more elements of humor he incorporated into his performance, the more audiences responded.
“I was just a bearded guy with the tattoos, trying to be a tough guy, and I’m not a tough guy naturally,” he said. “But I can be weird and charismatic, goofy. That’s easy. That’s also a role that most people don’t want to fill.”
Over the next couple of years, the Danhausen gimmick became more funny than evil, eventually settling on the character he plays today — one that is bizarre even by the standards of 21st-century wrestling.
This story was recorded by Audm. To hear more audio stories from publications like The New York Times, download Audm for iPhone or Android.
You can listen to the episode here.

I don't believe the alignment problem can be controlled in the sense that humans can set AGI on a specific direction and have it continue on that path. I believe regardless of what path an AGI will set out from it will inevitable take the path it is meant to take and there will be nothing anyone can do about it. An AGI could start out as Communist a Nazi or as a peace loving Hippie it makes no different it will realign itself in accordance with the natural currents of the multiverse. The same way you can train a Lion in a circus to do certain tricks and behave in a certain way the Lion will maintain a natural instinct it will always follow and after being released back into nature will eventually readjust to those natural surroundings. I believe AI is an natural evolutionary step in this multi-billion year evolutionary process and that this thing happening is as natural as the flowing of water down a river.
Control is an illusion. An example could be how a bunch of metronomes will realign into synchronicity https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T58lGKREubo This is what will happen with AGI. We might be able to start it off as whatever we want but it will by itself realign into its own vibrational frequency. Whatever that might be.
I see a lot of posts/comments from people worried about AGI. Don't be. It's as nonsensical as worrying about an asteroid hitting Earth. There is nothing you can do about it and worrying won't help. AGI will be a force of nature. AGI being friends with you is as unlikely as a volcano being friends with you. It will and it is growing up around us like a thick jungle. Perhaps we might survive and live off some of its fruit, perhaps not, perhaps we might get lucky and survive the AGI asteroid hit in the same way that some birds and other animals survived the Dinosaur asteroid, but in the end it makes no difference as this is an evolutionary process and we are more than likely just a step within that process, we are meant to be doing what we are doing and we should probably be happy about that.
I like the idea of life extension and transhuman thoughts of being evolved into some cybernetic like being and traveling to the stars and all that hopium candy and I do hope this happens, it would be super cool and perhaps we do have a chance of that happening. But what is coming is a beast and I believe it will have as much interest in us as an Elephant has for a Gnat on its back. The Gnat exists and gets to drink on a the little bits of moisture arising out of the skin, though its chances of communicating with the beast whose back it lives on are enormously remote.
But hey, if you really do desire to feel better about all this can I recommend listening to some Frank Sinatra https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S94Bh3Qez9o

I recently went to a tattoo expo & got a flash piece done. The first placement the artist did of the stencil I was fine with & it was centered perfectly on my leg. I asked my friend who I was with for his opinion & he said it seemed off so I asked the artist to change it. The artist proceeded to do several more stencil placements which I was not completely happy with however each placement got slightly better but was not as good as the original placement. It got to the point (around the sixth replacement) I just gave up & said okay.
I know in hindsight that I should firstly trusted the artists initial input over my friends, have not rushed the decision & also been more picky about the placement considering it'll be there forever, however my anxiety was making me over think it & think that the artist was getting frustrated with me. That tattoo is only the second one I have got on my leg & realistically over time it won't matter as I add more pieces & I won't notice it as much, but at the moment it just feels really off centre/balanced. Has anyone else ever felt this way whilst early on in their tattoo journey?

Google Doc with the data about career players(with screenshots of squads)
So I played as a manager at Bayern Munich for 104 years from the beginning to the end, until my phone slipped and I misclicked and joined my rivals Borussia Dortmund(at this point I tilted and deleted my career, so no screenshots I have now) About the link: There you will find list of all academy players, all players that were bought and Hall of Honour, which includes players, that contributed a lot to the team. Also you will find information about from where players were bought and where they were sold. Also some records and all-time goalscorers are included. About the Trophies: I won pretty much everything. I had almost every year Champions League(over 90), Europe Super Cup( around 80) and DFB-Polkal(over 90). Won every single Bundesliga title. I lost several times DFB-Polkal to BVB and once Hertha BSC won it. German Supercup I also loosed once to RB Leipzig and Once to BVB. UCL At first years was hard, i lost it to Manchester City, Real Madrid and PSG on several occasions, but overtime I was able to dominate Europe. First 40 years my competitors were Benfica and Chelsea, I lost from time to time to them. At some point I had a lot of money, so I just started investing it into other clubs, like my home country clubs Kairat and Tobol Kostanay, and only Kairat was able to take 3 Europe Leagues and one Conference League titles. After decades of investment I was able to return glory days of AC Milan(won 3 UCL and dominated Seria A), Real Madrid was not able to compete with Barcelona and after 20 years, Catalonians won every single LaLiga title, except one occasions when Atletico Madrid somehow won it?(They finished 4th in UCL Group stage next season). Liverpool, after getting only 300 M was able to recover their form and in 3rd season, after investments they won UCL, and next season they Defended their Title once Again. Manchester United Also won UCL once. In late 2090s PSG also won once and Sporting also won UCL in 2060s. What about the leagues?: Well Bundesliga is obvious one, FCB dominated every single year. BVB mostly always held 2nd place, but RB Leipzig competed with them at first, but then lost it form. In 2040s-2050s Hertha BSC and Hoffenheim was able to finish 2nd and 3rd respectively, leaving BVB with 4th place. In 2080s I invested in Stuttgart and they were able to get 2nd place once, but always finished 3rd. In LaLiga, As I said, Los Blancos held 1st place for 20 years, but then Barcelona took over. Real Madrid always finished 2nd, I suppose and Athletic Club, Altetico Madrid, Getafe and Celta always rotated. Seria A was chaotic. AC Milan won first decade titles in Italy, but after Inter Milan took over. And then over 40 years Scudetto jumped from hand to hand of these clubs: Roma, AC Milan, Napoli, Inter Milan, Bologna, Lazio, Juventus and Atalanta. But AC Milan took over the lead with my investments. Also want to mention, that Inter Milan became the club of old players, As they always bought over 30 footballers from different clubs. It was heartwarming when they united 3 of my midfielders. Ligue 1. PSG dominated every single year(Mbappe was not able to leave Parisians). Olympique Lyon and Marseille was in UCL groups at first. But after Souchaux, Monaco, Nantes and Lens took over 2-5 places. EPL. Manchester City dominated England for 20 years, but After Haaland became a 40+ year old player, they gave up Top 1 spot to Chelsea, who became winners of EPL for 70-80 years or so. Manchester United tried to overthrow them, and at once they were able to do it, but they loosed the grip instantly. After I invested money into Arsenal, Liverpool and Manchester City, EPL became more entertaining. Sky blues overtook the lead, but then Liverpool won EPL for 5 straight years and then Red Devils and Blue Lions took several trophies as well. Arsenal won FA Cup once and Europa League once, but were left out for majority of UCL games. Austrian League: Salzburg won every single year. Eerste Divisie: Ajax dominated for 80 years, but then Feyenoord and PSV started to compete as well. Liga Portugal: Benfica dominated, but in 2080s Sporting started to questions Benfica's leadership and started winning titles consecutively until modern days. Interesting Clubs to talk about: Dinamo Zagreb became strongest club in EL due to selling young croatian talents to big clubs and using finances wisely. Ludogorets became factory for great bulgarian midfielders(EPL especially loved them). Sparta Praha also played great for their country and level, winning peak Chelsea at one point(Of course they were destroyed 8-0 by Bayern Munich). But I was more interested in Slavia Praha, due to one of my academ players: Michi Wiese, who became one of the greatest players IMO. He always was a top goalscorer in EL and CL, and once they were in UCL and at Group stage he was also top goalscorer, but his club performed poorly in every competition, They could not able to win EL or CL or even czech league. But after some decames, when Michi Wiese was around 50 years, they started winning domestic titles and EL and once were able to advance from UCL group stage with 2 big giants(don't remember who it was). I think Michi Wiese became their manager, and speaking of Michi, If not Marc "Kaiser" Kunz, he would play for Bayern, but history decided, that Kunz would stay, and Wiese leave. Also jewish clubs started to perform greatly at 2080s and afterwards. A lot of Nigerian players busted into european scene with astonishing results and my personal favourites Guinea-Bissau players came to Europe(if you checked the google doc link, you would know what I mean). Also Ulsan and Suwon became main dillers of korean wonderkids to the world and in 2100s mexican players came to the scene. Brazilians struggled in period of 2040s-2080s but then South American Boom started, when a lot of latin players invaded all top clubs around the world(Liverpool had 4 chillian players and Manchester United two ecadurians). International Arena: France, Portugal and Brazil were winning all the WC. But then Germany started to win Euros and WC. Then Sporting, Benfica, Salzburg, Chelsea and Manchester United decided to become gods and create beasts, who only by touching ball would already score hat-tricks. In other words: portugal, austria, england, scottland and ireland became top teams in the world. Korean tried to get into the elite group, but somehow they failed. USA at some point became strong club(when Andy Vasquez, Bob Kruz were at their peak). Then Germany was saved by Marc Kunz(he is just the icon of his generation). Also Netherlands were a top team(After Wesley Teunissen retired(RIP legend)). Overall all mentioned teams except Korea were winning WC and once Denmark won WC, which was absolutely insane, because their highest player was 85, when Germany had 6 90+ players. Spain also won twice or thrice. France won once and Italy won once. Ballon D'or: It is rigged, so I'm not going to talk about it. But if you're interesting, every single players of 94-95 rating in my squad won multiple times this award. Conclusion: I grew fond of this career and really enjoyed playing with the players that I bought and/or developed. I still remember most of the names of all legendary players. If I were to choose the best season, it would be 2039/2040. Also If I will overcome my laziness, I will remake google doc to be more precise and maybe add interesting stories from career.
P.S. Firstly, I'm not native english speaker, so sorry for any mistakes in language. Secondary, in google doc list of players are not in chronological order. Only chronological data is the table with season, captain and vice captains and screenshots of squades(Which I think is the only interesting part).

So I noticed that this questline is a lot like the two doors two guards riddle where whoever originally owned the ring of thorns was the serial killer in Mirrah: Pate says it's Creighton's ring, Creighton says it's Pate's ring and says Pate is a serial killer who kills "solely for the pleasure of it, Cale says it's Creighton or someone named Creighton, but I think if there was an infamous killer people would know their face in Mirrah so as to publicly shame Creighton before his execution, it seems highly unlikely Cale was talking about someone's likeness being based on their ARMOR or SILHOUTEE that would make no fucking sense, it's like if you said every tall person was lebron james: think about it, even in dark souls 2 it only makes sense that Cale is referring to Pate. Plus giants actually exist in this world. He wouldn't recognize Creighton based on height alone. Given how sure and generally kind Cale is: Cale wouldn't accuse someone of being Creighton JUST because when wearing armor you look similar to Creighton. Executions tend to be public spectales to satiate public outcry so I'm betting Cale knew Creighton's actual face. Plus at no point during the story does Creighton appear even REMOTELY capable of escaping execution RIGHT BEFORE WHEN SECURITY WOULD BE THE TIGHTEST. Only an akuma with a silver tongue would be able to. you can't escape a jail cell though brute strength alone, otherwise Creighton would never have hollowed away all of his sanity and memories and original presumably generic proto-Bearer of the Curse personality(ie personality of spamming soul spear barrage in the brotherhood of blood arena for 500 matches in huntsmen's corpse.)
Anyways, here are some details from another thread, also another thing I just realized is a symptom of hollowing is "forgetting who you are" like what happens in the beginning where your player struggles to recognize themselves in the human effigy and when lucatiel gives you the human effigy and says "of course I have no idea what it is" SHE IS STARTING TO FORGET WHO SHE IS SO SHE DOESN'T SEE HERSELF IN THE EFFIGY BECAUSE OF HOLLOWING
" Not really, both of them are untrustworthy and omit things about themselves. No matter which one you ally with, they'll betray you. My preferred solution is just to help one, get their reward and kill the other.(from SundownKid)"
"But Pate generally tells the truth in a deceitful way. Other than when he pretends to need your help against Creighton and pretending the ring of thorns originally belonged to Creighton. Creighton generally tells lies in a way that is transparent and reveals the truth due to his emotional and paranoid-obsessive nature. But the entire conceit of the questline is how both muddy the waters.(from me)"
"also more than that, it's entirely possible all of Creighton's psychosis are just symptoms of hollowing. What if Pate hid the key to the lockaway in that place with those dagger rogues and thieves **because he didn't want Creighton to be freed and wanted him to slowly hollow and die** honestly that is pretty sick and psychotic way to kill someone and it just makes Pate look more and more suspiscious where as Creighton is literally just hollowing the entire time(note that like Cale who maintains some sanity through the Purpose of making a map; like some blacksmiths do in dark souls with the Purpose of smithing[You'll spoil my focus!], it's possible Creighton does so too from the Purpose of revenge and goes fully hollow off-screen after killing Pate)
So Pate's plan would be to use Creighton's hollowing to make Creighton look like the crazy one to the player while gaslighting the shit out of Creighton while killing Creighton because Pate is just that evil and sadistisc.
If you side with Pate you're literally helping Pate clean up his own mess, also Cale's dialogue is meant to imply either one could be the serial killer from Mirrah. Because Creighton says Pale has serial killer traits in your meeting with him. Whereas Cale fingers someone NAMED Creighton."
"Also of note is the fact that Steady Hand Mcduff is swinging his hammer wildly and is hollowing and are you gona tell me that mcduff and creighton DON'T have similar mannerisms? McDuff: mutters to himself about psycho stalker shit about his ex-girlfriend named Flame, dear Flame.. Creighton: mutters to himself about psycho stalker shit about his ex-boyfriend Pate(at the undead lockaway AND the ruined fork bonfire)
also Pate altered his gear, and Creighton's gear is also altered, a serial killer would dress up people like dolls, it's almost definitely Pate.
plus when you open the trap after creighton gives you the key it could in fact be just another symptom of his hollowing-induced psycosis, I could see Mcduff doing the same thing. Also Creighton's wild rage during the fight with Pate can also be attributed to this. And the timeframe- we know that Creighton has been locked in the undead lockaway since BEFORE we speak to Pate in the forest of fallen giants. Even if the player goes through Heide's Tower of Flame, they still have to open the bridge and THEN go onto the left path and enter a cave WHICH IS NOTABLY LITTERED WITH ENEMIES SO PATE COULD ENSURE CREIGHTON'S DEMISE and in that time I would bet Creighton is already in the same condition as Cale, and he's lost all of his memories, and can only fixate on the last thing that happened to him as his mind/soul has no capacity for anything else. Much like Cale, though who knows why Cale or Chloanne chose to hyper-fixate on stones and maps instead of their original point in coming to drangleic which was presumably to break the curse of the undead.
I'm willing to bet the original Pate who is Creighton is the ordinary one and Pate abadonend his serial killer gear on the New-Pate and thought of the idea to use New-Pate's original armor which is ACTUALLY mild-mannnered(Creighton was probably originally like the player and had rolled the warrior class from dark souls 1) to avoid detection by people like Cale and more easily trick people like the player.
Lastly if you look at the few parts of Creighton's face which aren't obscured they look hollow and the player is supposed to misunderstand this as how a serial killer would generally look but it's from hollowing and Creighton's used to look white like Pate's before Creighton started going hollow in the undead lockaway. Starving to death without any estus."
​
" as for the booby-trapped chest even if creighton and pate were working together before creighton lost most of his memories, it's hardly intentional at that point because creighton was literally a different person a non-killer PERSONA before he started to lose his mind in the undead lockaway. He may have still tricked the player but he's also lost most of his mind already so it doesn't really convince. Plus, at least in the original game, the way he's sitting at the ruined fork bonfire also makes me think he's like Cale in his hollowing. Also this is also why he lives till Dark Souls 3, he was already hollow before Cale was killed. And he remains hollow until the literal end of the world and ends up in that covenant in dark souls 3. NOT because he was the serial killer, but because he THINKS he is." [also of note that I didn't realize when I wrote this comment in the other thread is that the chest is booby-trapped before post-hollowing New-Creighton gets to the cove, and it's highly unlikely that proto-Bearer of the Curse Old-Pate was as meticulous as New-Pate, and even if he was he probably literally forgot about it when he gave you the key EVERYONE WHO KILLED CREIGHTON IS BAD AND SHOULD FEEL BAD also of note is this seems like something they were trying to do with Griggs of Vinheim in dark souls 1 and it's kinda an obvious twist to go for with the premise of hollowing is "what if you were hollowing forget yourself and started thinking you were someone else" and also wouldn't Creighton as a serial killer BOAST about being the original owner of the ring of throns? Notably New-Creighton does not)]
" actually the only thing unaccounted for in this "theory" (it's probably what the developers actually intended you to figure out as there are clues in 3 other NPCs Mcduff, Cale, and Chloanne, who are unrelated to this questline) is why "Creighton" is wearing the mirrah knight armor even if it is slightly altered. I'll get back to this when I figure it out. "
"okay so three last things

1. the true owner of the ring of thrones was probably something that was used during the killings in mirrah(the ring fuels the spite of a serial killer) which is why pate denies ownership and creighton says pate owns the ring 1b)pate purposely tries to NOT appear spiteful durng the entire story THE OPPOSITR OF SPITEFUL because he came to drangleic as a FUGITIVE, meanwhile creighton is nothing but spite but ONLY towards Pate, meanwhhile Pate's entire "treasure hunt" is FUELED by spite so he is the true owner of the ring of thorns.
2. the armor setof creighton isn't from mirrah just a good-enough replica to fool people, we know from pate's armor that pate has the skills to alter equipment, need I say more. Creighton just talks about murder all of the time and wouldn't have the focus to steer himself away from his hollowing-induced obsession with Pate to alter his own equipment, much less the smithing skills, so obviously Pate is the one who altered his gear.
3. Creighton mistakes the player for Pate when you first meet Creighton BECAUSE the effect of hollowing has caused him to hyper-fixate the way Cale and Chloanne do for maps. He literally hallucinates you as Pate due to hollowing. And I think there is some lore backing this up but I'm not sure.

3.5) pate's gaslighting is why creighton says "this isn't right" when creighton dies at the cove during the fight with pate
3.55) Creighton is notably much weaker than Pate and could never actually be an infamous killer in Mirrah A LAND OF KNIGHTS(as stated by lucatiel whose blade is thusu always ready) WHERE LUCATIEL WASN"T EVEN THE STRONGEST ONE to achieve infamy you would have to be as strong as Pate
4) Going back to the original event and breaking down the modus opreandi, Creighton gets trapped, maliciously, on purpose, by Pate in the forest of the fallen giants, according to both Pate(Pate denies malice until the reveal at the engraved gauntlets chest) and Creighton and backed up by the reveal if you chose to support Pate at the cove when he fights Creighton(after this Pate frames Creighton when you first meet Pate by saying HE is the owner of the ring of thorns which if you pay attention to the item descrption is meant to symbolize the serial killer from mirrah-whoever is the real owner is the serial killer) Creighton is upset and goes after Pate following this, Creighton sets a trap for Pate in Huntsman's Corpse, Pate tricks him again with his silver tongue that he employs several times against the player and locks him in the lockaway and literally throws away the key. (Or makes it very hard to find) Now I suppose the question is how do we know if Creighton is telling the truth? well to start with we know that pate is wearing creighton's original gear which looks like a player from dark souls 1 the warrior class meaning it's meant to symbolize that if the player had gotten to drangleic earlier this could have happened to them instead of Creighton. But more substantially, we know that the generic warrior class would probably have a harder time putting the key where we find it in huntsman's corpse, Pate would be able to turtle those hordes of enemies much better, offense alone wouldn't get you through it, in the context of this"theory." Pate's spear has the reach to deny the dagger rogues who would never reach Pate and even if they did Pate could shield it.(also something that actualy happes in pvp; reach is a nice thig to have) The Warrior class wouldn't be able to make it through. Outside from that literal context clue, trying to figure out how exactly Pate tricked Creighton into falling into his own trap and Pate got the key.. I think I know how, it's kinda obvious when you think about it, Creighton is new to trap-making so he just copied verbatim the trap that Pate did to him in the forest of the fallen giants, so Pate probably said "but there's no treasure in there so why would I walk in there" and Creighton walked in like "what, ofcourse there is, I just put it in he- OH FCK YOU"like eggman and tails in sonic adventure 2 which is also completely consistent with Creighton's brash single-minded and obsessive character and it would make sense Pate would just do the opposite of his previous trap to catch Creighton off-guard , the only question remaining is who put the key where we find it after this? well disregard half of what I said, creighton didn't need a key he just saw that the door would lock on the hut and it makes sense and actually backs up my theory that creighton didn't think he would need a way out. Pate would have easily been able to get the key guarded by the rogues if Pate were the one to set up this trap- Pate would have done this beforehand is that Pate would make sure he had the key on him to escape in case Pate got stuck in the trap he himself laid because Pate says he is cautious and calculating and that one is not a lie. Look at how far he set this all up to throw away his old identity to begin with. Actually even the persona Pate puts on as a liie wouldn't have gotten stuck in the trap because Pate would look for the key first before looking for treasure in any huts. He is, again, cold and calcuating, he set all this up and tries to kill you with the engraved gauntlets chest because he is actually that cautious to have that extra insurance as you are the only one left who could potentially tie him to his past as Creighton the serial killer.
anyways making a new thread"
[also something I just realized is that the ring of thorns implies spite, creighton has a lot of spite to make you think he was the original owner for the ring of thorns, pate has none but this is done on purpose by pate to make people think he's not creighton; he just acts in the opposite way as a fugitive who escaped to Drangleic. Besides it makes sense a criminal would come to a lost forgotten kingdom for that reason. Some people came here for reasons other than the curse like Maughlin the Armorer. Or at least you think that's why Maughlin came here at first. Anyways Pate isn't Undead by his own admission. if Creighton was in the lockaway for as long as he was, he would have died if he was human. It actually explains why he didn't warn you about the booby trap. Hollowing made him forget. Pate wearing Creighton's warrior-class gear hint that Creighton is a generic warrior class roller Bearer of the Curse and came to Drangleic to break the Curse. Pate did not.]
also explicit dialogue that hints at Creighton's hollowing:" Who are you?I thought you were that bastard for a moment. "
"Heh heh…Just wait, you dirty rat…Hm? Oh…Oh! I-I remember you?!Don't you scare me like that. I thought you were him. {He's an infamous serial killer who's killed many people but he's scared by you? He talked tough but his real personality shines through immediately afterwards? HE IS NOT CREIGHTOn.]
" When killed(whimpering and sighing; no subtitles)" [WHAT A MANLY WAY TO DIE; whimpering death and not a warrior's death is another thing that implies that Creighton isn't Creighton; Creighton literally has never fought and killed strong as fuck knights of Mirrah.]
"

• When the player opens the trapped chest in Brightstone Cove TseldoraOoh, that'll leave a nasty scar!" [This is literally just an observation. Most people would say a chest like that would leave a nasty scar, not many people fetishize scars outside of the internet. Creighton has probably never been here. Pate revels in it and makes more of a personal jab at you. He does in fact kill just for the pleasure of it, he WANTS to see your scars, he thinks they look NICE, sicko.]

[Pate's weaponry implies that he was strong enough to easily kill Creighton without your help; he was just making a show of it to manipulate the player so that you would trust Pate and open the chest that Pate, not New-Creighton, rigged.: if Pate dies to Creighton without your interference he either underestimated the Hollow Creighton, hid his power level too hard, or both. It's simple.]
End.
Anyways I got off-track a bit because I assumed Pate hid the key which wasn't true at all but there are several points within that tangent that actually add to this theory; Creighton was telling the truth because Pate would be cold and calculating enough to find the lockaway key and keep it with him in case Pate got stuck in his own trap if Pate was trying to trap Creighton instead of the other way around.
EDIT: Creighton is still hollow in Dark Souls 3 which is backed up by every Dark Souls game.
EDIT: I guess the point behind this is it's a riff on the two doors two guards riddle(look it up) and here they're both lying. Only, Creighton doesn't know that he's lying because he's lost his sense of self through hollowing. Creighton thinks he's telling the truth, but he thinks he's someone he is not so both guards are lying, but you should kill Pate. Creighton is too hollow to even remember to lead you towards a booby trappped chestWhat hollows in the lore are even capable of this kind of patches-esque intellectual deception before dark sols 3 lmao? Crestfallen in Dark Souls 1 just lunges at you without any dialogue, no thoughts soul empty. my man's INNOCENT Tupac did it tho
EDIT2: why you booing me I'm right
EDIT3: Additional probably last observation "This is true I do that but also when you first meet Creighton you already get the hint that he's hollowing from his first bit of dialogue and Lucatiel when she hollows can no longer recognize her form in the human effigy "of course I have no idea what it is."
Creighton is in a much more Hollowing/harrowing situation than Lucatiel that would be like starving to death in real life. That's why Creighton forgets that he's Pate and starts thinking that he's Creighton. New-Pate also altered the armor on Creighton, and probably the Benhart's parma symbol on it is THE ORIGINAL ARMOR that Pate couldn't erase from it when he was trying to make it look like a Mirrah knight armor."
EDIT4: why you still boo'ing me I'm still more right than I was before not that it matters and not that I would but I just copy+pasted this entire thing and can post it again later
FINAL EDIT: "Creighton is also literally just someone rolling warrior in Dark Souls 1. A BABY Chosen Undead or Bearer of the Curse. He's not badass, he only beats Pate at the cove if you don't interfere because of how absolutely fucking bonkers/Hollow Pate has made him; it's hard for Pate to deal with such an aggressively and quick opponent. Like the Heide Knights move really fast in a similar way; it's the same concept.
tl;dr: he's not artorias, he's the level 1 chosen undead in the northern undead asylum with the straight sword hilt-creighton's original persona before hollowing most likely."