sonder
Table Testing

Non-Conforming Highlander Imperial Army


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posted 09-06-2021, 05:03 PM - Word count:
#81


It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music...but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.

Inside the Waystone a pair of men huddled at one corner of the bar. They drank with quiet determination, avoiding serious discussions of troubling news. In doing this they added a small, sullen silence to the larger, hollow one. It made an alloy of sorts, a counterpoint.

The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it in the wooden floor underfoot and in the rough, splintering barrels behind the bar. It was in the weight of the black stone hearth that held the heat of a long dead fire. It was in the slow back and forth of a white linen cloth rubbing along the grain of the bar. And it was in the hands of the man who stood there, polishing a stretch of mahogany that already gleamed in the lamplight.

The man had true-red hair, red as flame. His eyes were dark and distant, and he moved with the subtle certainty that comes from knowing many things.

The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die.



WINTER BALL


Female 23 OOC OOC Owner
posted 09-09-2021, 12:08 AM - Word count:
#82


Arterial tortuosity manifests in many conditions, including hypertension, genetic mutations predisposing to thoracic aortopathy, and vascular aging. Despite evidence that tortuosity disrupts efficient blood flow and that it may be an important clinical biomarker, underlying mechanisms remain poorly understood but are widely appreciated to be largely biomechanical. Many previous studies suggested that tortuosity may arise via an elastic structural buckling instability, but the novel experimental-computational approach used here suggests that tortuosity arises from mechanosensitive, cell-mediated responses to local aberrations in the microstructural integrity of the arterial wall. In particular, computations informed by multimodality imaging show that aberrations in elastic fiber integrity, collagen alignment, and collagen turnover can lead to a progressive loss of structural stability that entrenches during the development of tortuosity. Interpreted in this way, microstructural defects or irregularities of the arterial wall initiate the condition and hypertension is a confounding factor.

Notwithstanding the highly branched morphology of the vascular tree, most arterial segments are locally circular and relatively straight under normal conditions. This uniform geometry engenders locally uniform blood flow that is efficient for fluid transport as well as uniform states of flow-induced wall shear stress and pressure-induced intramural stress consistent with local mechanical homeostasis
art: snow-body + code: claerie

Satchel Mulder
Male 5 Outlander Thieves' Guild Drug trader
Voxi

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posted 09-09-2021, 01:59 AM - Word count:
#83




He had to hand it to himself, somehow it was always easy to end up this way.

Going round and round in circles, as if dreaming might be just out of grasp.





"Speech."

Satchel Mulder
Male 5 Outlander Thieves' Guild Drug trader
Voxi

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posted 09-09-2021, 02:38 AM - Word count:
#84




He had to hand it to himself, somehow it was always easy to end up this way.

Going round and round in circles, as if dreaming might be just out of grasp.





"Speech."

Female 29 Highlander Imperial Army


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posted 09-17-2021, 10:39 AM - Word count:
#85
I've heard there was a secret chord That David played and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth The minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe I've been here before I know this room, I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew you I've seen your flag on the marble arch Love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah There was a time you let me know What's real and going on below But now you never show it to me, do you? And remember when I moved in you The holy dark was moving too And every breath we drew was Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Maybe there's a god above And all I ever learned from love Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you It's not a cry you can hear at night It's not somebody who's seen the light It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Cairo Tiamat
Female 2 Mainlander Imperial Army Captain
Royalist

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welcome to the fire

posted Yesterday, 02:48 PM - Word count:
#86
All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all the names.

I really did go back to Dresden with Guggenheim money (God love it) in 1967. It looked a lot like Dayton, Ohio, more open spaces than Dayton has. There must be tons of human bone meal in the ground.

I went back there with an old war buddy, Bernard V. O'Hare, and we made friends with a cab driver, who took us to the slaughterhouse where we had been locked up at night as prisoners of war. His name was Gerhard Müller. He told us that he was a prisoner of the Americans for a while. We asked him how it was to live under Communism, and he said that it was terrible at first, because everybody had to work so hard, and because there wasn't much shelter or food or clothing. But things were much better now. He had a pleasant little apartment, and his daughter was getting an excellent education. His mother was incinerated in the Dresden fire-storm. So it goes.

He sent O'Hare a postcard at Christmastime, and here is what it said:

"I wish you and your family also as to your friend Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and I hope that we'll meet again in a world of peace and freedom in the taxi cab if the accident will."


"If the accident will."

ART➤Foxapm CODE➤ Amphi



<center><table background="https://img.nickpic.host/cKFXuc.png" style="background-position:bottom; background-color:#375237; background-repeat: no-repeat;border:1px double #000000; outline-color:black; outline-style:;width:600px;padding-bottom:600px;padding-top:10px;padding-left:40px;padding-right:35px;<tr><td height="0px"><tr><td align="center">
<div id="outerDiv" style="position: relative; border: 0px double #3b170c;overflow:hidden; ">
<div id="semiTransparentDiv" style="position: absolute; background-color: transparent; filter:alpha(opacity=40);-moz-opacity:.40;opacity:.40; height: 100%; width: 100%; z-index: 1;"></div><div align="justify"> <div id="contentDiv" style="position:relative;z-index:2; padding-bottom:20px;padding-top:10px;padding-left:05px;padding-right:05px;"><font style="color:#d5d0c1;font-family:times;font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;letter-spacing:0.0em;word-spacing:0.1em;">All this happened, more or less. The war parts, anyway, are pretty much true. One guy I knew really was shot in Dresden for taking a teapot that wasn't his. Another guy I knew really did threaten to have his personal enemies killed by hired gunmen after the war. And so on. I've changed all the names.

I really did go back to Dresden with Guggenheim money (God love it) in 1967. It looked a lot like Dayton, Ohio, more open spaces than Dayton has. There must be tons of human bone meal in the ground.

I went back there with an old war buddy, Bernard V. O'Hare, and we made friends with a cab driver, who took us to the slaughterhouse where we had been locked up at night as prisoners of war. His name was Gerhard Müller. He told us that he was a prisoner of the Americans for a while. We asked him how it was to live under Communism, and he said that it was terrible at first, because everybody had to work so hard, and because there wasn't much shelter or food or clothing. But things were much better now. He had a pleasant little apartment, and his daughter was getting an excellent education. His mother was incinerated in the Dresden fire-storm. So it goes.

He sent O'Hare a postcard at Christmastime, and here is what it said:

"I wish you and your family also as to your friend Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and I hope that we'll meet again in a world of peace and freedom in the taxi cab if the accident will."


<font style="color:#64fad2;font-style:italic; font-family:lucidia; font-size: 14px; line-height: 15px;letter-spacing:0.1em; text-shadow: 1px 1px 10px #ffffc3">"If the accident will."</font>

</div></td></tr>  </table><div align=center>   <font style="color:black;font-family:arial; font-size: 7px; line-height: 12px;letter-spacing:0.1em;">ART➤<a href="https://www.deviantart.com/foxapm/art/Detected-892313250">Foxapm</a> CODE➤ Amphi</font> </div>      </center>


Female Highlander Imperial Army


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cue the 80's disco

posted Yesterday, 11:25 PM - Word count:
#87




CHARACTER NAME
gender, age, affiliation






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year one


short description of thread.

short description of thread.




year two


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