*clears throat**taps mic*
Gildun joining Morlund’s troupe as a wordsmith along with Stemmur. that is all
seen from China

seen from France
seen from China
seen from France

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Libya
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Ireland
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
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seen from India

seen from United States
seen from Maldives

seen from United States
*clears throat**taps mic*
Gildun joining Morlund’s troupe as a wordsmith along with Stemmur. that is all

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The basin is waterlogged you say?
I sure hope ol' Gildun doesn't have anything remotely sad to learn in the near future...
"My savior! My salvation! And, if you like -- why wouldn't you, of course you will -- my accomplice!"
"I've never seen such absolute disregard for personal safety!"

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Bro: "I won't be that dramatic about it"
Bro:
Premise I may use much later in a fic:
All the Horizon characters are pulled into a shared utopian dream/simulation. Emphasis on utopian, every character has achieved a great notoriety and lives as famously (or quietly) as they could dream. There may or may not (wink) be a sinister cause behind this.
Anyway, everyone has these great achievements except Gildun. In his utopian dream, he's exactly the delver he was before. No more successful, in fact: less. He never makes it out on delves because he always has friends stopping in to see him.
Now, my father was a great man, mind you, but dead wrong when it came to choosing a rubric by which to judge delve quality. To find yourself stuck, then unstuck. To fail, then to succeed. To get lost and to find yourself—that’s what makes a delve!
—gildun