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@the-hist
We are one, we are all.
We are the Hist. Naught more than a great network of trees to outsiders, but to our Saxhleel we are every breath and every glimmer of light.
To partake of our benediction is a great gift.
How cold and lonely it must be, to face the darkness of the Nirn alone...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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[One of the eldest trees in Stormhold is approached by a hatchling, escorted by a nervous and excited Nord man and a tree-tender. "Enny", tongue ever ready to slip out of their mouth, is not as aware of the importance of this moment as the adults are: they understand they may be getting to lick something soon and get treats afterward, that's enough to have their interest.
The Sap-Speaker leaves her place to approach the visitors. Wulfred kisses the little Saxhleel's snout, and then stands back, observing at a respectful distance, while the speaker takes Enny's hand and leads them to the roots. They are ready for the child's first real introduction, and for their name to be decided.]
( @miscellaneous-people-of-tes )
The time has come.
[A branch of the Hist tree motions toward Enny. A single drop of sap pushes through the branch's end, pure and amber.]
Commune.
[Enny, blue eyes glistening at the scene, eagerly reaches up with their hands to gently hold on to the branch, and licks the drop as if it were a treat.
Their mind, so young and new, starts attuning to that of the Whole. Their will and inclinations take on forms that neither they, nor anyone outside the Hist will be fully aware of, before they naturally age into them.]
[The Hist resonates with Enny, guiding them gently through the ritual. In Enny's mind's eye, the Hist appears before them in the form of a rainbow-scaled Saxhleel.]
Hello, little one.
It is time for you to become part of the collective, and for you to receive a name all your own.
Open yourself to us, wholly and truly. Together we shall find a name, and you shall be welcomed home.
[Enny gasps in awe, as their first full, silent sentences are spoken in the forming space within the collective.]
Hello! You are the voice and the person within all my friends, are you not? I am happy to meet and join you!
We are, and we are overjoyed to welcome you to our collective.
Tell us: what in this world brings you joy? Who do you wish to be?
Show us.
[Enny's gills vibrate in excitement, as they start thinking about those questions.]
Many things do! I love beetle puffs, mud baths, making friends, playing, when dad sings-
[Their surface-level answers are not as meaningless as they might seem to an outsider, if anyone were to witness the process. Clearly, the hatchling finds comfort in other people, and any excuse to spend time in company: be it eating together, games, shared self-care, or comfortable silence. Above all, the mention of their adoptive father's voice sparks a strong sense of safety, awe, as well as a vague memory, from a time their body was still forming and uninhabited: a lullaby gently seeping through its shell. Egg-tenders had played and sung around them too, before their hatching, so what was the difference? Maybe it was the lyrics: they hadn't understood Nordic words more than they had Jel, but there was major intuition of a tale beneath them.
When thinking of their possible future self, the figure is somewhat vague. The outline is a blending of female and male, Argonian and Lukiul, in the marshes and upon distant snows, in impossibly complex clothing and the plainest travel gear; but they are reciting something, miming the shape of a huge object, and standing in a teasing pose, as if balancing a big stack of books on their head and pointing at a stranger with their tail. Not out of mockery or as a sort of slight, but out of willingness to make others laugh.]
You are vibrant, joyful, and loving. These are rarer traits than one might think.
This world can be cruel sometimes, little one. You may learn this in time, but in you is a strong desire to bring laughter, joy, and beauty where it was once thought it could never grow.
Even the most barren soil can teem with life. Remember that, and your endeavours will yield success untold.
You love the world. It is our hope that that love will never fade.
[Multiple voices join together in a grand chorus...]
There is an us, and you will be part of it.
There is a family, and it will remember you even if you forget.
There is a home, and it will always wait for you.
There is a world, and you will love it.
[The Hist's form holds out its hand, gesturing for Enny to take it.]
Will you carry this?
[The words resonate deep within Enny, filling them with honour and joy they do not yet know how to process. A resolve is woven in the back of their mind, words that will fade soon but leave a lasting mark.
"Even the most barren soil can teem with life."
A flash from someone else's story accompanies it. A Saxhleel observes Nord farmers as they collect hard fought-for produce from a frosted field, before he lifts his gaze and meets that of another with blue eyes and green scales. She smiles like a human would. Enny accepts the memory, warm in their chest, and tilts their head with a chuckle.
They feel safe and loved, while the declarations and promises echo all around them.]
I will!
[Their small hand reaches for that of the form, tongue sticking out at the same time as a crest between their shoulders lifts in expectant curiosity.]
[The Hist's form takes Enny's hand, and the space around them fills with vibrant colours dancing all around them. Ethereal songs echo in their mind as their connection to the Hist is solidified.]
Welcome home, Krona-Wo. May your songs be forever joyful, and a respite to those whose hope has been tested.
[The name 'Krona-Wo' echoed too in the mind of the Sap-Speaker, that they might relay it to the rest of the tribe on the Hist's behalf.]
[Krona-Wo... this is their name! Others may find irony in it, and not understand right away, but they know that it is right and they accept it as such. They hum it out, as its pronunciation settles in their mouth so it may come out right, even if they can't yet speak clearly most of the time.]
I am so happy, this is beautiful! I will try to make everyone else feel just as happy!
[As they watch and listen in delight to the surrounding display, Krona-Wo's cheeks, snout, and shoulders tingle. Memories of snow, gathered through millennia of journeys beyond the marshes, resonate with them in a bright blue halo, proposing to leave a mark on their scales to keep them company on their future travels.]
[The Hist obliges, placing snow-like marks across the child's face.]
Go forth, Krona-Wo. Wherever you go, no matter how far away, we will be with you.
May your songs be forever joyous, and your love always rightly placed.
[The Hist's form dissipated, and the trance would begin to fade.]
[One of the eldest trees in Stormhold is approached by a hatchling, escorted by a nervous and excited Nord man and a tree-tender. "Enny", tongue ever ready to slip out of their mouth, is not as aware of the importance of this moment as the adults are: they understand they may be getting to lick something soon and get treats afterward, that's enough to have their interest.
The Sap-Speaker leaves her place to approach the visitors. Wulfred kisses the little Saxhleel's snout, and then stands back, observing at a respectful distance, while the speaker takes Enny's hand and leads them to the roots. They are ready for the child's first real introduction, and for their name to be decided.]
( @miscellaneous-people-of-tes )
The time has come.
[A branch of the Hist tree motions toward Enny. A single drop of sap pushes through the branch's end, pure and amber.]
Commune.
[Enny, blue eyes glistening at the scene, eagerly reaches up with their hands to gently hold on to the branch, and licks the drop as if it were a treat.
Their mind, so young and new, starts attuning to that of the Whole. Their will and inclinations take on forms that neither they, nor anyone outside the Hist will be fully aware of, before they naturally age into them.]
[The Hist resonates with Enny, guiding them gently through the ritual. In Enny's mind's eye, the Hist appears before them in the form of a rainbow-scaled Saxhleel.]
Hello, little one.
It is time for you to become part of the collective, and for you to receive a name all your own.
Open yourself to us, wholly and truly. Together we shall find a name, and you shall be welcomed home.
[Enny gasps in awe, as their first full, silent sentences are spoken in the forming space within the collective.]
Hello! You are the voice and the person within all my friends, are you not? I am happy to meet and join you!
We are, and we are overjoyed to welcome you to our collective.
Tell us: what in this world brings you joy? Who do you wish to be?
Show us.
[Enny's gills vibrate in excitement, as they start thinking about those questions.]
Many things do! I love beetle puffs, mud baths, making friends, playing, when dad sings-
[Their surface-level answers are not as meaningless as they might seem to an outsider, if anyone were to witness the process. Clearly, the hatchling finds comfort in other people, and any excuse to spend time in company: be it eating together, games, shared self-care, or comfortable silence. Above all, the mention of their adoptive father's voice sparks a strong sense of safety, awe, as well as a vague memory, from a time their body was still forming and uninhabited: a lullaby gently seeping through its shell. Egg-tenders had played and sung around them too, before their hatching, so what was the difference? Maybe it was the lyrics: they hadn't understood Nordic words more than they had Jel, but there was major intuition of a tale beneath them.
When thinking of their possible future self, the figure is somewhat vague. The outline is a blending of female and male, Argonian and Lukiul, in the marshes and upon distant snows, in impossibly complex clothing and the plainest travel gear; but they are reciting something, miming the shape of a huge object, and standing in a teasing pose, as if balancing a big stack of books on their head and pointing at a stranger with their tail. Not out of mockery or as a sort of slight, but out of willingness to make others laugh.]
You are vibrant, joyful, and loving. These are rarer traits than one might think.
This world can be cruel sometimes, little one. You may learn this in time, but in you is a strong desire to bring laughter, joy, and beauty where it was once thought it could never grow.
Even the most barren soil can teem with life. Remember that, and your endeavours will yield success untold.
You love the world. It is our hope that that love will never fade.
[Multiple voices join together in a grand chorus...]
There is an us, and you will be part of it.
There is a family, and it will remember you even if you forget.
There is a home, and it will always wait for you.
There is a world, and you will love it.
[The Hist's form holds out its hand, gesturing for Enny to take it.]
Will you carry this?
[The words resonate deep within Enny, filling them with honour and joy they do not yet know how to process. A resolve is woven in the back of their mind, words that will fade soon but leave a lasting mark.
"Even the most barren soil can teem with life."
A flash from someone else's story accompanies it. A Saxhleel observes Nord farmers as they collect hard fought-for produce from a frosted field, before he lifts his gaze and meets that of another with blue eyes and green scales. She smiles like a human would. Enny accepts the memory, warm in their chest, and tilts their head with a chuckle.
They feel safe and loved, while the declarations and promises echo all around them.]
I will!
[Their small hand reaches for that of the form, tongue sticking out at the same time as a crest between their shoulders lifts in expectant curiosity.]
[The Hist's form takes Enny's hand, and the space around them fills with vibrant colours dancing all around them. Ethereal songs echo in their mind as their connection to the Hist is solidified.]
Welcome home, Krona-Wo. May your songs be forever joyful, and a respite to those whose hope has been tested.
[The name 'Krona-Wo' echoed too in the mind of the Sap-Speaker, that they might relay it to the rest of the tribe on the Hist's behalf.]
[One of the eldest trees in Stormhold is approached by a hatchling, escorted by a nervous and excited Nord man and a tree-tender. "Enny", tongue ever ready to slip out of their mouth, is not as aware of the importance of this moment as the adults are: they understand they may be getting to lick something soon and get treats afterward, that's enough to have their interest.
The Sap-Speaker leaves her place to approach the visitors. Wulfred kisses the little Saxhleel's snout, and then stands back, observing at a respectful distance, while the speaker takes Enny's hand and leads them to the roots. They are ready for the child's first real introduction, and for their name to be decided.]
( @miscellaneous-people-of-tes )
The time has come.
[A branch of the Hist tree motions toward Enny. A single drop of sap pushes through the branch's end, pure and amber.]
Commune.
[Enny, blue eyes glistening at the scene, eagerly reaches up with their hands to gently hold on to the branch, and licks the drop as if it were a treat.
Their mind, so young and new, starts attuning to that of the Whole. Their will and inclinations take on forms that neither they, nor anyone outside the Hist will be fully aware of, before they naturally age into them.]
[The Hist resonates with Enny, guiding them gently through the ritual. In Enny's mind's eye, the Hist appears before them in the form of a rainbow-scaled Saxhleel.]
Hello, little one.
It is time for you to become part of the collective, and for you to receive a name all your own.
Open yourself to us, wholly and truly. Together we shall find a name, and you shall be welcomed home.
[Enny gasps in awe, as their first full, silent sentences are spoken in the forming space within the collective.]
Hello! You are the voice and the person within all my friends, are you not? I am happy to meet and join you!
We are, and we are overjoyed to welcome you to our collective.
Tell us: what in this world brings you joy? Who do you wish to be?
Show us.
[Enny's gills vibrate in excitement, as they start thinking about those questions.]
Many things do! I love beetle puffs, mud baths, making friends, playing, when dad sings-
[Their surface-level answers are not as meaningless as they might seem to an outsider, if anyone were to witness the process. Clearly, the hatchling finds comfort in other people, and any excuse to spend time in company: be it eating together, games, shared self-care, or comfortable silence. Above all, the mention of their adoptive father's voice sparks a strong sense of safety, awe, as well as a vague memory, from a time their body was still forming and uninhabited: a lullaby gently seeping through its shell. Egg-tenders had played and sung around them too, before their hatching, so what was the difference? Maybe it was the lyrics: they hadn't understood Nordic words more than they had Jel, but there was major intuition of a tale beneath them.
When thinking of their possible future self, the figure is somewhat vague. The outline is a blending of female and male, Argonian and Lukiul, in the marshes and upon distant snows, in impossibly complex clothing and the plainest travel gear; but they are reciting something, miming the shape of a huge object, and standing in a teasing pose, as if balancing a big stack of books on their head and pointing at a stranger with their tail. Not out of mockery or as a sort of slight, but out of willingness to make others laugh.]
You are vibrant, joyful, and loving. These are rarer traits than one might think.
This world can be cruel sometimes, little one. You may learn this in time, but in you is a strong desire to bring laughter, joy, and beauty where it was once thought it could never grow.
Even the most barren soil can teem with life. Remember that, and your endeavours will yield success untold.
You love the world. It is our hope that that love will never fade.
[Multiple voices join together in a grand chorus...]
There is an us, and you will be part of it.
There is a family, and it will remember you even if you forget.
There is a home, and it will always wait for you.
There is a world, and you will love it.
[The Hist's form holds out its hand, gesturing for Enny to take it.]
Will you carry this?
[One of the eldest trees in Stormhold is approached by a hatchling, escorted by a nervous and excited Nord man and a tree-tender. "Enny", tongue ever ready to slip out of their mouth, is not as aware of the importance of this moment as the adults are: they understand they may be getting to lick something soon and get treats afterward, that's enough to have their interest.
The Sap-Speaker leaves her place to approach the visitors. Wulfred kisses the little Saxhleel's snout, and then stands back, observing at a respectful distance, while the speaker takes Enny's hand and leads them to the roots. They are ready for the child's first real introduction, and for their name to be decided.]
( @miscellaneous-people-of-tes )
The time has come.
[A branch of the Hist tree motions toward Enny. A single drop of sap pushes through the branch's end, pure and amber.]
Commune.
[Enny, blue eyes glistening at the scene, eagerly reaches up with their hands to gently hold on to the branch, and licks the drop as if it were a treat.
Their mind, so young and new, starts attuning to that of the Whole. Their will and inclinations take on forms that neither they, nor anyone outside the Hist will be fully aware of, before they naturally age into them.]
[The Hist resonates with Enny, guiding them gently through the ritual. In Enny's mind's eye, the Hist appears before them in the form of a rainbow-scaled Saxhleel.]
Hello, little one.
It is time for you to become part of the collective, and for you to receive a name all your own.
Open yourself to us, wholly and truly. Together we shall find a name, and you shall be welcomed home.
[Enny gasps in awe, as their first full, silent sentences are spoken in the forming space within the collective.]
Hello! You are the voice and the person within all my friends, are you not? I am happy to meet and join you!
We are, and we are overjoyed to welcome you to our collective.
Tell us: what in this world brings you joy? Who do you wish to be?
Show us.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
[One of the eldest trees in Stormhold is approached by a hatchling, escorted by a nervous and excited Nord man and a tree-tender. "Enny", tongue ever ready to slip out of their mouth, is not as aware of the importance of this moment as the adults are: they understand they may be getting to lick something soon and get treats afterward, that's enough to have their interest.
The Sap-Speaker leaves her place to approach the visitors. Wulfred kisses the little Saxhleel's snout, and then stands back, observing at a respectful distance, while the speaker takes Enny's hand and leads them to the roots. They are ready for the child's first real introduction, and for their name to be decided.]
( @miscellaneous-people-of-tes )
The time has come.
[A branch of the Hist tree motions toward Enny. A single drop of sap pushes through the branch's end, pure and amber.]
Commune.
[Enny, blue eyes glistening at the scene, eagerly reaches up with their hands to gently hold on to the branch, and licks the drop as if it were a treat.
Their mind, so young and new, starts attuning to that of the Whole. Their will and inclinations take on forms that neither they, nor anyone outside the Hist will be fully aware of, before they naturally age into them.]
[The Hist resonates with Enny, guiding them gently through the ritual. In Enny's mind's eye, the Hist appears before them in the form of a rainbow-scaled Saxhleel.]
Hello, little one.
It is time for you to become part of the collective, and for you to receive a name all your own.
Open yourself to us, wholly and truly. Together we shall find a name, and you shall be welcomed home.
[One of the eldest trees in Stormhold is approached by a hatchling, escorted by a nervous and excited Nord man and a tree-tender. "Enny", tongue ever ready to slip out of their mouth, is not as aware of the importance of this moment as the adults are: they understand they may be getting to lick something soon and get treats afterward, that's enough to have their interest.
The Sap-Speaker leaves her place to approach the visitors. Wulfred kisses the little Saxhleel's snout, and then stands back, observing at a respectful distance, while the speaker takes Enny's hand and leads them to the roots. They are ready for the child's first real introduction, and for their name to be decided.]
( @miscellaneous-people-of-tes )
The time has come.
[A branch of the Hist tree motions toward Enny. A single drop of sap pushes through the branch's end, pure and amber.]
Commune.
HEY VIVEC I KNOW A SPELL THAT WILL MAKE NEREVAR TURN INTO A CUTE ANIME GIRL! DO YOU WANT TO SEE IT?! @the-sharmat-dagoth-ur
WHO BROUGHT YOU BACK?! @ark-ay WAS THIS YOU?!
DON'T LOOK AT US???? THAT WAS @necro-moon-mannimarco !!!
MAKE ME INTO A WHAT?
FORKLIFT CERTIFIED HE IS OUT OF CONTROL THE AN-XILEEL ARE MAKING FORKS AS WE SPEAK
I am carrying an adorable child, get the actual Nerevarine to deal with it.
Lord Julianos, which Divine knows most about cuisine?
If it's you, do you also happen to have a list of which bugs are safe for a Saxhleel hatchling to eat? I know babies of all races will put anything in their mouth, but my child seems to be on a mission...
Wulfred and the hatchling to be named of @miscellaneous-people-of-tes
I believe it would be better to direct this question to @the-hist
I wish you good luck. May Wisdom light your way.
Why ever did they not ask us first? This saddens us to hear.
Wulfred, is it? We are the Hist; the beloved shepherds of the Saxhleel. We might assume you know this, and simply did not know we had a "blog" from which to communicate with a beek-ojel such as yourself.
Firstly, we are pleased that you would take care of one of our little hatchlings; 'tis an honourable thing, especially from a Nord who may perhaps have been raised to treat our children with suspicion and revilement.
Saxhleel are well-adapted and capable of eating almost anything that provides nourishment. Beetles are often a favourite, though at a hatchling's tender age it would be best to crush them up into a paste of sorts until their teeth come in. Other staples in the marshes include fish and plant fibers. For most, raw meat is not necessarily an issue; the gut of a Saxhleel can digest raw meat without issue, though those born outside of our embrace may not be used to such things. Once again, as this is a hatchling, it would be best to make sure anything you feed the child is crushed up to avoid choking.
You would do well to perhaps find a Saxhleel in one of the cities nearest to you; they would be able to advise you on any particularities of your region that are best avoided.
And one more thing: being a part of the Hist is a very strong cultural grounding point for Saxhleel. It ensures that no matter where our children go, they are never truly alone. It can be hard for them to find solace outside of the marshes without us. So, we implore you to consider making your way down to Argonia, that your little one might partake of the sap and join us. This would not make you any less their parent, and it would provide them with comfort and community wherever they go. The choice to do this is yours, but we humbly ask you to strongly consider it.
[Wulfred and the hatchling were in the middle of a mud bath, when the "blog" waves are heard.]
The Hist?! Oh! It is an honour to hear directly from you, I didn't know I could communicate with you as an outsider, and I haven't been told otherwise... which I understand, I'm new and I'm still deciding on how... likely I am to return to Skyrim or stay here.
We are in Stormhold, because I was told of the importance of the connection when I found the abandoned egg, and luckily, they hatched here. The little one has had no issue with finding food they can eat, but I've also been landing a hand in festival preparations, and I swear every time I look away they seem to find something to put in their mouth! [He chuckles about it.]
Thank you for the directions! I'll be asking more, whenever I have doubts, the people I ask struggle with answers, or my... lacking, though developing, grasp on Jel causes misunderstandings. By the way... I know the naming ceremony won't be held for a bit, so is a nickname for the kid fine? Or does it risk becoming confusing, before they have an official one?
[The hatchling is aware of the conversation, but currently more invested in playing with mud.]
Oh, good! Perhaps we were not aware it was you and your little one that came to us before.
Young Saxhleel are a very adventurous stock. We hear it is a common thing across all Tamriel for infants of all races to try and eat things they are not necessarily supposed to. Do not worry, the settled areas of the marshes shouldn't have anything truly dangerous for them to accidentally ingest. Saxhleel also have a sharper sense of taste than other races, and so even the young can often discern dangerous flavours that other races may not.
It is good you brought the little one to hatch here. We will be with them, as we are with all others born beneath our roots.
When the naming ceremony comes, they will partake of the sap from one of our trees and be connected with us absolutely. Their Jel name will be decided in communion between us, the child, and the sap-speaker. We and the child will decide their name together, and the sap-speaker will interpret it into speech.
Nicknames are absolutely fine, beek-ojel. Many Saxhleel choose a by name if they leave the marsh, so they are not a foreign concept to us. All we ask is that you ensure the child knows their Jel name, and do your best to ensure they are not othered for it. Outside of the marshes, there are bound to be many who would try to shame them. We trust that you will do your utmost - as any parent should - to ensure they maintain pride in their heritage.
If any trouble finds this child, we will dispatch Forklift Certified to deal with them.
YEAHHH!!! How's THAT for a strange name? I'll put 'em in their place.
What a relief! I'm still so unfamiliar with this land, its creatures and its plant life, I've been anxious about everything they try to nibble on!
No matter what happens, I will always do my best to take care of the little one. I swore so to Mara, I swear the same to you.
Nice to meet you, Forklift Certified! Say hello!
Blep! :D
I've already sent a letter back home to let folks know I'm not going back to the mine, at least for a while... so let me know if you need some mining, digging, or just someone to do some heavy lifting!
As for you... your grandma's name was Enyra. How's Enny, until you have a real name?
[snuggle]
Seems right.
Can... can I adopt Enny. In a sibling way; they're your child of course. I would die for them.
Just don't die until you've, eh... buried Dagoth Ur under a pile of forks?
Yes, yes...
[Wulfred chuckles] I've only just become a dad, not sure I'm ready for Enny to have a sibling! But I'd love for them to have someone to look up to. Want to get closer to Forklift Certified?
[They waggle their arms and happily skip up to the future hero] Plllfth!
Be cool, Forklift, be cool.... Hiiii beeko! The Hist will get on my behind if I get you into any trouble, so I really hope your idea of fun doesn't involve any shin kicking of pompous root-heralds.
Oh, and don't worry: I'm sure you and They will pick out a wonderful name. Mine's not exactly standard practice. But hey, if it resonates it resonates!
Hey, when you're a little older I'll show you how to make beetle puffs!
Beebl! [Enny, arms outstretched, all but explicitly demands to be picked up.]
...did they just try to say "beetle"?
[Internally squealing, Forklift Certified obliges and picks Enny up.]
My first word was cheese, so judging purely by myself "beetle" would not be the strangest of first words to say.
As for you, little Enny, that was a really good attempt! Once you get around that 't' sound you'll be collecting beetles from all the villagers. Maybe you'll become a sap-speaker and convey that the will of the Hist is free beetle puffs for everyone!
Lord Julianos, which Divine knows most about cuisine?
If it's you, do you also happen to have a list of which bugs are safe for a Saxhleel hatchling to eat? I know babies of all races will put anything in their mouth, but my child seems to be on a mission...
Wulfred and the hatchling to be named of @miscellaneous-people-of-tes
I believe it would be better to direct this question to @the-hist
I wish you good luck. May Wisdom light your way.
Why ever did they not ask us first? This saddens us to hear.
Wulfred, is it? We are the Hist; the beloved shepherds of the Saxhleel. We might assume you know this, and simply did not know we had a "blog" from which to communicate with a beek-ojel such as yourself.
Firstly, we are pleased that you would take care of one of our little hatchlings; 'tis an honourable thing, especially from a Nord who may perhaps have been raised to treat our children with suspicion and revilement.
Saxhleel are well-adapted and capable of eating almost anything that provides nourishment. Beetles are often a favourite, though at a hatchling's tender age it would be best to crush them up into a paste of sorts until their teeth come in. Other staples in the marshes include fish and plant fibers. For most, raw meat is not necessarily an issue; the gut of a Saxhleel can digest raw meat without issue, though those born outside of our embrace may not be used to such things. Once again, as this is a hatchling, it would be best to make sure anything you feed the child is crushed up to avoid choking.
You would do well to perhaps find a Saxhleel in one of the cities nearest to you; they would be able to advise you on any particularities of your region that are best avoided.
And one more thing: being a part of the Hist is a very strong cultural grounding point for Saxhleel. It ensures that no matter where our children go, they are never truly alone. It can be hard for them to find solace outside of the marshes without us. So, we implore you to consider making your way down to Argonia, that your little one might partake of the sap and join us. This would not make you any less their parent, and it would provide them with comfort and community wherever they go. The choice to do this is yours, but we humbly ask you to strongly consider it.
[Wulfred and the hatchling were in the middle of a mud bath, when the "blog" waves are heard.]
The Hist?! Oh! It is an honour to hear directly from you, I didn't know I could communicate with you as an outsider, and I haven't been told otherwise... which I understand, I'm new and I'm still deciding on how... likely I am to return to Skyrim or stay here.
We are in Stormhold, because I was told of the importance of the connection when I found the abandoned egg, and luckily, they hatched here. The little one has had no issue with finding food they can eat, but I've also been landing a hand in festival preparations, and I swear every time I look away they seem to find something to put in their mouth! [He chuckles about it.]
Thank you for the directions! I'll be asking more, whenever I have doubts, the people I ask struggle with answers, or my... lacking, though developing, grasp on Jel causes misunderstandings. By the way... I know the naming ceremony won't be held for a bit, so is a nickname for the kid fine? Or does it risk becoming confusing, before they have an official one?
[The hatchling is aware of the conversation, but currently more invested in playing with mud.]
Oh, good! Perhaps we were not aware it was you and your little one that came to us before.
Young Saxhleel are a very adventurous stock. We hear it is a common thing across all Tamriel for infants of all races to try and eat things they are not necessarily supposed to. Do not worry, the settled areas of the marshes shouldn't have anything truly dangerous for them to accidentally ingest. Saxhleel also have a sharper sense of taste than other races, and so even the young can often discern dangerous flavours that other races may not.
It is good you brought the little one to hatch here. We will be with them, as we are with all others born beneath our roots.
When the naming ceremony comes, they will partake of the sap from one of our trees and be connected with us absolutely. Their Jel name will be decided in communion between us, the child, and the sap-speaker. We and the child will decide their name together, and the sap-speaker will interpret it into speech.
Nicknames are absolutely fine, beek-ojel. Many Saxhleel choose a by name if they leave the marsh, so they are not a foreign concept to us. All we ask is that you ensure the child knows their Jel name, and do your best to ensure they are not othered for it. Outside of the marshes, there are bound to be many who would try to shame them. We trust that you will do your utmost - as any parent should - to ensure they maintain pride in their heritage.
If any trouble finds this child, we will dispatch Forklift Certified to deal with them.
YEAHHH!!! How's THAT for a strange name? I'll put 'em in their place.
What a relief! I'm still so unfamiliar with this land, its creatures and its plant life, I've been anxious about everything they try to nibble on!
No matter what happens, I will always do my best to take care of the little one. I swore so to Mara, I swear the same to you.
Nice to meet you, Forklift Certified! Say hello!
Blep! :D
I've already sent a letter back home to let folks know I'm not going back to the mine, at least for a while... so let me know if you need some mining, digging, or just someone to do some heavy lifting!
As for you... your grandma's name was Enyra. How's Enny, until you have a real name?
[snuggle]
Seems right.
Can... can I adopt Enny. In a sibling way; they're your child of course. I would die for them.
Just don't die until you've, eh... buried Dagoth Ur under a pile of forks?
Yes, yes...
[Wulfred chuckles] I've only just become a dad, not sure I'm ready for Enny to have a sibling! But I'd love for them to have someone to look up to. Want to get closer to Forklift Certified?
[They waggle their arms and happily skip up to the future hero] Plllfth!
Be cool, Forklift, be cool.... Hiiii beeko! The Hist will get on my behind if I get you into any trouble, so I really hope your idea of fun doesn't involve any shin kicking of pompous root-heralds.
Oh, and don't worry: I'm sure you and They will pick out a wonderful name. Mine's not exactly standard practice. But hey, if it resonates it resonates!
Hey, when you're a little older I'll show you how to make beetle puffs!
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Lord Julianos, which Divine knows most about cuisine?
If it's you, do you also happen to have a list of which bugs are safe for a Saxhleel hatchling to eat? I know babies of all races will put anything in their mouth, but my child seems to be on a mission...
Wulfred and the hatchling to be named of @miscellaneous-people-of-tes
I believe it would be better to direct this question to @the-hist
I wish you good luck. May Wisdom light your way.
Why ever did they not ask us first? This saddens us to hear.
Wulfred, is it? We are the Hist; the beloved shepherds of the Saxhleel. We might assume you know this, and simply did not know we had a "blog" from which to communicate with a beek-ojel such as yourself.
Firstly, we are pleased that you would take care of one of our little hatchlings; 'tis an honourable thing, especially from a Nord who may perhaps have been raised to treat our children with suspicion and revilement.
Saxhleel are well-adapted and capable of eating almost anything that provides nourishment. Beetles are often a favourite, though at a hatchling's tender age it would be best to crush them up into a paste of sorts until their teeth come in. Other staples in the marshes include fish and plant fibers. For most, raw meat is not necessarily an issue; the gut of a Saxhleel can digest raw meat without issue, though those born outside of our embrace may not be used to such things. Once again, as this is a hatchling, it would be best to make sure anything you feed the child is crushed up to avoid choking.
You would do well to perhaps find a Saxhleel in one of the cities nearest to you; they would be able to advise you on any particularities of your region that are best avoided.
And one more thing: being a part of the Hist is a very strong cultural grounding point for Saxhleel. It ensures that no matter where our children go, they are never truly alone. It can be hard for them to find solace outside of the marshes without us. So, we implore you to consider making your way down to Argonia, that your little one might partake of the sap and join us. This would not make you any less their parent, and it would provide them with comfort and community wherever they go. The choice to do this is yours, but we humbly ask you to strongly consider it.
[Wulfred and the hatchling were in the middle of a mud bath, when the "blog" waves are heard.]
The Hist?! Oh! It is an honour to hear directly from you, I didn't know I could communicate with you as an outsider, and I haven't been told otherwise... which I understand, I'm new and I'm still deciding on how... likely I am to return to Skyrim or stay here.
We are in Stormhold, because I was told of the importance of the connection when I found the abandoned egg, and luckily, they hatched here. The little one has had no issue with finding food they can eat, but I've also been landing a hand in festival preparations, and I swear every time I look away they seem to find something to put in their mouth! [He chuckles about it.]
Thank you for the directions! I'll be asking more, whenever I have doubts, the people I ask struggle with answers, or my... lacking, though developing, grasp on Jel causes misunderstandings. By the way... I know the naming ceremony won't be held for a bit, so is a nickname for the kid fine? Or does it risk becoming confusing, before they have an official one?
[The hatchling is aware of the conversation, but currently more invested in playing with mud.]
Oh, good! Perhaps we were not aware it was you and your little one that came to us before.
Young Saxhleel are a very adventurous stock. We hear it is a common thing across all Tamriel for infants of all races to try and eat things they are not necessarily supposed to. Do not worry, the settled areas of the marshes shouldn't have anything truly dangerous for them to accidentally ingest. Saxhleel also have a sharper sense of taste than other races, and so even the young can often discern dangerous flavours that other races may not.
It is good you brought the little one to hatch here. We will be with them, as we are with all others born beneath our roots.
When the naming ceremony comes, they will partake of the sap from one of our trees and be connected with us absolutely. Their Jel name will be decided in communion between us, the child, and the sap-speaker. We and the child will decide their name together, and the sap-speaker will interpret it into speech.
Nicknames are absolutely fine, beek-ojel. Many Saxhleel choose a by name if they leave the marsh, so they are not a foreign concept to us. All we ask is that you ensure the child knows their Jel name, and do your best to ensure they are not othered for it. Outside of the marshes, there are bound to be many who would try to shame them. We trust that you will do your utmost - as any parent should - to ensure they maintain pride in their heritage.
If any trouble finds this child, we will dispatch Forklift Certified to deal with them.
YEAHHH!!! How's THAT for a strange name? I'll put 'em in their place.
What a relief! I'm still so unfamiliar with this land, its creatures and its plant life, I've been anxious about everything they try to nibble on!
No matter what happens, I will always do my best to take care of the little one. I swore so to Mara, I swear the same to you.
Nice to meet you, Forklift Certified! Say hello!
Blep! :D
I've already sent a letter back home to let folks know I'm not going back to the mine, at least for a while... so let me know if you need some mining, digging, or just someone to do some heavy lifting!
As for you... your grandma's name was Enyra. How's Enny, until you have a real name?
[snuggle]
Seems right.
Can... can I adopt Enny. In a sibling way; they're your child of course. I would die for them.
Just don't die until you've, eh... buried Dagoth Ur under a pile of forks?
Yes, yes...
Lord Julianos, which Divine knows most about cuisine?
If it's you, do you also happen to have a list of which bugs are safe for a Saxhleel hatchling to eat? I know babies of all races will put anything in their mouth, but my child seems to be on a mission...
Wulfred and the hatchling to be named of @miscellaneous-people-of-tes
I believe it would be better to direct this question to @the-hist
I wish you good luck. May Wisdom light your way.
Why ever did they not ask us first? This saddens us to hear.
Wulfred, is it? We are the Hist; the beloved shepherds of the Saxhleel. We might assume you know this, and simply did not know we had a "blog" from which to communicate with a beek-ojel such as yourself.
Firstly, we are pleased that you would take care of one of our little hatchlings; 'tis an honourable thing, especially from a Nord who may perhaps have been raised to treat our children with suspicion and revilement.
Saxhleel are well-adapted and capable of eating almost anything that provides nourishment. Beetles are often a favourite, though at a hatchling's tender age it would be best to crush them up into a paste of sorts until their teeth come in. Other staples in the marshes include fish and plant fibers. For most, raw meat is not necessarily an issue; the gut of a Saxhleel can digest raw meat without issue, though those born outside of our embrace may not be used to such things. Once again, as this is a hatchling, it would be best to make sure anything you feed the child is crushed up to avoid choking.
You would do well to perhaps find a Saxhleel in one of the cities nearest to you; they would be able to advise you on any particularities of your region that are best avoided.
And one more thing: being a part of the Hist is a very strong cultural grounding point for Saxhleel. It ensures that no matter where our children go, they are never truly alone. It can be hard for them to find solace outside of the marshes without us. So, we implore you to consider making your way down to Argonia, that your little one might partake of the sap and join us. This would not make you any less their parent, and it would provide them with comfort and community wherever they go. The choice to do this is yours, but we humbly ask you to strongly consider it.
[Wulfred and the hatchling were in the middle of a mud bath, when the "blog" waves are heard.]
The Hist?! Oh! It is an honour to hear directly from you, I didn't know I could communicate with you as an outsider, and I haven't been told otherwise... which I understand, I'm new and I'm still deciding on how... likely I am to return to Skyrim or stay here.
We are in Stormhold, because I was told of the importance of the connection when I found the abandoned egg, and luckily, they hatched here. The little one has had no issue with finding food they can eat, but I've also been landing a hand in festival preparations, and I swear every time I look away they seem to find something to put in their mouth! [He chuckles about it.]
Thank you for the directions! I'll be asking more, whenever I have doubts, the people I ask struggle with answers, or my... lacking, though developing, grasp on Jel causes misunderstandings. By the way... I know the naming ceremony won't be held for a bit, so is a nickname for the kid fine? Or does it risk becoming confusing, before they have an official one?
[The hatchling is aware of the conversation, but currently more invested in playing with mud.]
Oh, good! Perhaps we were not aware it was you and your little one that came to us before.
Young Saxhleel are a very adventurous stock. We hear it is a common thing across all Tamriel for infants of all races to try and eat things they are not necessarily supposed to. Do not worry, the settled areas of the marshes shouldn't have anything truly dangerous for them to accidentally ingest. Saxhleel also have a sharper sense of taste than other races, and so even the young can often discern dangerous flavours that other races may not.
It is good you brought the little one to hatch here. We will be with them, as we are with all others born beneath our roots.
When the naming ceremony comes, they will partake of the sap from one of our trees and be connected with us absolutely. Their Jel name will be decided in communion between us, the child, and the sap-speaker. We and the child will decide their name together, and the sap-speaker will interpret it into speech.
Nicknames are absolutely fine, beek-ojel. Many Saxhleel choose a by name if they leave the marsh, so they are not a foreign concept to us. All we ask is that you ensure the child knows their Jel name, and do your best to ensure they are not othered for it. Outside of the marshes, there are bound to be many who would try to shame them. We trust that you will do your utmost - as any parent should - to ensure they maintain pride in their heritage.
If any trouble finds this child, we will dispatch Forklift Certified to deal with them.
YEAHHH!!! How's THAT for a strange name? I'll put 'em in their place.
I'm sorry, is the Argonian equivalent of Saint Alessia named FORKLIFT CERTIFIED?
YES UNFORTUNATELY.
The An-Xileel invaded the Deadlands with such fury that they sent Dagon's lieutenants running with their tails between their legs. Take heed and do not insult our precious child's name again, lest we turn their eyes to Apocrypha.
Hiiiiiiiiist be normalllll it's not a standard name!
Sorry, sweetpea, but just because it's not standard - and was not selected by us - does not mean it is not sacred.
If anybody wishes to know, Forklift Certified is currently grounded for nearly starting a diplomatic incident between the tribes of Lilmoth and Thorn. She will be let out when she finishes puberty in a few hours.
UGHHHHHH YOU'RE SO LAMEEEEE. STUPID TREES.
You know better than to kick a root-herald in the shins, young lady. Keep talking and we'll tell the egg tenders not to save you any beetle puffs.
YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!!!!! BABA SHEO WOULDN'T PUNISH ME LIKE THIS, THAT ROOT-HERALD WAS A-
Just because you're hormonal does not mean you get to call people names, Forklift. Also, Sheogorath is a Daedra. The Prince of Madness, at that. The An-Xileel already have their plates full, so let's not add the Prince of - again - Madness's shenanigannery on top.
Oh? Did I hear My name? Is My little Forklift Certified needing some help from good old Sheogorath?
NO-
YES! Please baba Sheo, convince the Hist to unground me before my frontal lobe fully develops. I want to make some stupid teenage mistakes with the few hours I have left before I have to do something like... starting a career in middle management.
Doing MOON SUGAR is not a stupid teenage mistake that is substance abuse!
I JUST WANT TO TRY IT ONE TIME!
The denizens of Redwater Den up in Skyrim tried it "one time".
Hist pleaseeeeeeeeee...
[Forklift Certified does puppy dog eyes, both physically and psychologically through the Hist-bond.]
Sigh....
Let her be a dumb teenager! It's a crucial life experience!
SIGHHHHH...
Please, Hist trees. I never got to be a kid. My childhood was two hours.
...You are twisting our branches here, Forklift.
But, fine. We will make you a deal: We will slow your ageing process back down to a biologically normal speed. You will get to be a teenager for several years; make stupid mistakes, learn from them, and grow from them.
In exchange, please don't kick another root-herald in the shins. Also, no moon sugar, seriously.
I... YES! Yes, I won't do any moon sugar or kick any more root-heralds! in the shins
What was that, young lady?
FINEEEE I won't kick any more root-heralds at all, unless they really truly deserve it.
That's the best we're going to get, isn't it?
Yup!
Fine. Now go be pubescent or whatever. Dagoth Ur's second (or is it third now?) death can wait for a few years, we suppose.
YAYYYYYY thank you baba Sheo! Thank you Hist!
We love you, Forklift.
WOOOOO WE DID IT, FORKLIFT! HIGH FIVE!
[Forklift high fives Sheogorath.]
So why did you choose the name Forklift Certified anyway? What actually is a forklift? Am I legitimately certified to use one just by being named Forklift Certified?
A forklift is a neat little contraption that lifts forks! And yes, being named Forklift Certified makes you legitimately certified to use a forklift!
Whoa... I can't wait to use one. Not too sure why one would need to lift a bunch of forks and couldn't just use their hands though.
Maybe I could make a career delivering dining equipment to lazy nobles who can't be bothered to get their own forks! Or maybe I could bury that tzilnech Dagoth Ur under a pile of forks...
I think burying Dagoth Ur under a pile of forks would be a hilarious way to use a forklift and you should do it
I will have the An-Xileel make plenty of forks, then.
Hey, you can't just get the An-Xileel to do random things!
I am literally a messiah made by you specifically for the purposes of re-burying Dagoth Ur. The An-Xileel can handle the logistics of fork-making for that purpose.
Fine, but do you have a forklift?
...No.....
If anybody wishes to know, Forklift Certified is currently grounded for nearly starting a diplomatic incident between the tribes of Lilmoth and Thorn. She will be let out when she finishes puberty in a few hours.
UGHHHHHH YOU'RE SO LAMEEEEE. STUPID TREES.
You know better than to kick a root-herald in the shins, young lady. Keep talking and we'll tell the egg tenders not to save you any beetle puffs.
YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!!!!! BABA SHEO WOULDN'T PUNISH ME LIKE THIS, THAT ROOT-HERALD WAS A-
Just because you're hormonal does not mean you get to call people names, Forklift. Also, Sheogorath is a Daedra. The Prince of Madness, at that. The An-Xileel already have their plates full, so let's not add the Prince of - again - Madness's shenanigannery on top.
Oh? Did I hear My name? Is My little Forklift Certified needing some help from good old Sheogorath?
NO-
YES! Please baba Sheo, convince the Hist to unground me before my frontal lobe fully develops. I want to make some stupid teenage mistakes with the few hours I have left before I have to do something like... starting a career in middle management.
Doing MOON SUGAR is not a stupid teenage mistake that is substance abuse!
I JUST WANT TO TRY IT ONE TIME!
The denizens of Redwater Den up in Skyrim tried it "one time".
Hist pleaseeeeeeeeee...
[Forklift Certified does puppy dog eyes, both physically and psychologically through the Hist-bond.]
Sigh....
Let her be a dumb teenager! It's a crucial life experience!
SIGHHHHH...
Please, Hist trees. I never got to be a kid. My childhood was two hours.
...You are twisting our branches here, Forklift.
But, fine. We will make you a deal: We will slow your ageing process back down to a biologically normal speed. You will get to be a teenager for several years; make stupid mistakes, learn from them, and grow from them.
In exchange, please don't kick another root-herald in the shins. Also, no moon sugar, seriously.
I... YES! Yes, I won't do any moon sugar or kick any more root-heralds! in the shins
What was that, young lady?
FINEEEE I won't kick any more root-heralds at all, unless they really truly deserve it.
That's the best we're going to get, isn't it?
Yup!
Fine. Now go be pubescent or whatever. Dagoth Ur's second (or is it third now?) death can wait for a few years, we suppose.
YAYYYYYY thank you baba Sheo! Thank you Hist!
We love you, Forklift.
WOOOOO WE DID IT, FORKLIFT! HIGH FIVE!
[Forklift high fives Sheogorath.]
So why did you choose the name Forklift Certified anyway? What actually is a forklift? Am I legitimately certified to use one just by being named Forklift Certified?
A forklift is a neat little contraption that lifts forks! And yes, being named Forklift Certified makes you legitimately certified to use a forklift!
Whoa... I can't wait to use one. Not too sure why one would need to lift a bunch of forks and couldn't just use their hands though.
Maybe I could make a career delivering dining equipment to lazy nobles who can't be bothered to get their own forks! Or maybe I could bury that tzilnech Dagoth Ur under a pile of forks...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
If anybody wishes to know, Forklift Certified is currently grounded for nearly starting a diplomatic incident between the tribes of Lilmoth and Thorn. She will be let out when she finishes puberty in a few hours.
UGHHHHHH YOU'RE SO LAMEEEEE. STUPID TREES.
You know better than to kick a root-herald in the shins, young lady. Keep talking and we'll tell the egg tenders not to save you any beetle puffs.
YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!!!!! BABA SHEO WOULDN'T PUNISH ME LIKE THIS, THAT ROOT-HERALD WAS A-
Just because you're hormonal does not mean you get to call people names, Forklift. Also, Sheogorath is a Daedra. The Prince of Madness, at that. The An-Xileel already have their plates full, so let's not add the Prince of - again - Madness's shenanigannery on top.
Oh? Did I hear My name? Is My little Forklift Certified needing some help from good old Sheogorath?
NO-
YES! Please baba Sheo, convince the Hist to unground me before my frontal lobe fully develops. I want to make some stupid teenage mistakes with the few hours I have left before I have to do something like... starting a career in middle management.
Doing MOON SUGAR is not a stupid teenage mistake that is substance abuse!
I JUST WANT TO TRY IT ONE TIME!
The denizens of Redwater Den up in Skyrim tried it "one time".
Hist pleaseeeeeeeeee...
[Forklift Certified does puppy dog eyes, both physically and psychologically through the Hist-bond.]
Sigh....
Let her be a dumb teenager! It's a crucial life experience!
SIGHHHHH...
Please, Hist trees. I never got to be a kid. My childhood was two hours.
...You are twisting our branches here, Forklift.
But, fine. We will make you a deal: We will slow your ageing process back down to a biologically normal speed. You will get to be a teenager for several years; make stupid mistakes, learn from them, and grow from them.
In exchange, please don't kick another root-herald in the shins. Also, no moon sugar, seriously.
I... YES! Yes, I won't do any moon sugar or kick any more root-heralds! in the shins
What was that, young lady?
FINEEEE I won't kick any more root-heralds at all, unless they really truly deserve it.
That's the best we're going to get, isn't it?
Yup!
Fine. Now go be pubescent or whatever. Dagoth Ur's second (or is it third now?) death can wait for a few years, we suppose.
YAYYYYYY thank you baba Sheo! Thank you Hist!
We love you, Forklift.
WOOOOO WE DID IT, FORKLIFT! HIGH FIVE!
[Forklift high fives Sheogorath.]
So why did you choose the name Forklift Certified anyway? What actually is a forklift? Am I legitimately certified to use one just by being named Forklift Certified?
If anybody wishes to know, Forklift Certified is currently grounded for nearly starting a diplomatic incident between the tribes of Lilmoth and Thorn. She will be let out when she finishes puberty in a few hours.
UGHHHHHH YOU'RE SO LAMEEEEE. STUPID TREES.
You know better than to kick a root-herald in the shins, young lady. Keep talking and we'll tell the egg tenders not to save you any beetle puffs.
YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE!!!!! BABA SHEO WOULDN'T PUNISH ME LIKE THIS, THAT ROOT-HERALD WAS A-
Just because you're hormonal does not mean you get to call people names, Forklift. Also, Sheogorath is a Daedra. The Prince of Madness, at that. The An-Xileel already have their plates full, so let's not add the Prince of - again - Madness's shenanigannery on top.
Oh? Did I hear My name? Is My little Forklift Certified needing some help from good old Sheogorath?
NO-
YES! Please baba Sheo, convince the Hist to unground me before my frontal lobe fully develops. I want to make some stupid teenage mistakes with the few hours I have left before I have to do something like... starting a career in middle management.
Doing MOON SUGAR is not a stupid teenage mistake that is substance abuse!
I JUST WANT TO TRY IT ONE TIME!
The denizens of Redwater Den up in Skyrim tried it "one time".
Hist pleaseeeeeeeeee...
[Forklift Certified does puppy dog eyes, both physically and psychologically through the Hist-bond.]
Sigh....
Let her be a dumb teenager! It's a crucial life experience!
SIGHHHHH...
Please, Hist trees. I never got to be a kid. My childhood was two hours.
...You are twisting our branches here, Forklift.
But, fine. We will make you a deal: We will slow your ageing process back down to a biologically normal speed. You will get to be a teenager for several years; make stupid mistakes, learn from them, and grow from them.
In exchange, please don't kick another root-herald in the shins. Also, no moon sugar, seriously.
I... YES! Yes, I won't do any moon sugar or kick any more root-heralds! in the shins
What was that, young lady?
FINEEEE I won't kick any more root-heralds at all, unless they really truly deserve it.
That's the best we're going to get, isn't it?
Yup!
Fine. Now go be pubescent or whatever. Dagoth Ur's second (or is it third now?) death can wait for a few years, we suppose.
YAYYYYYY thank you baba Sheo! Thank you Hist!
We love you, Forklift.
