#Siana Cup
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Achilles pursues Troilus and Polyxena. Exterior of an Attic black-figure kylix (drinking cup) in the shape of a Siana cup, attributed to the C* Painter; ca. 575 BCE. Now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
*Short for "Corinthianizing," due to the influence of Corinthian art on his style.
#classics#tagamemnon#Ancient Greece#Archaic Greece#classical mythology#Greek mythology#Trojan War#art#art history#ancient art#Greek art#Ancient Greek art#Archaic Greek art#vase painting#terracotta#kylix#Siana Cup#C Painter#black-figure#Metropolitan Museum of Art
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An Attic Black-figured Siana Cup
Attributed to the Taras Painter, the tondo perhaps by the Malibu painter, circa 560-550 B.C.
Each sided painted with two striding panthers alternating with two grazing deer, a vine of ivy leaves encircling the rim, the tondo decorated with a warrior running vigorously to right, wearing a Phrygian helmet, and holding a sword and shield, a scabbard at his side and baldric across his chest, the details in added red, a black-painted prong and encircling band underneath the foot.
Diameter 25.1 cm.
#@An Attic Black-figured Siana Cup 560-550 B.C.#pottery#Ancient Greek pottery#ancient artifacts#archeology#archeolgst#history#history news#ancient history#ancient culture#ancient civilizations#ancient greece#greek history#greek art
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weekly fic recs | 25
fandoms: bnha, bsd, dc, knb
bnha
area cryptid upset no one bothered to inform him of his tragic backstory by crimsonseekers
“My life is a nightmare,” Dabi muttered blankly.
“Nah, this is hilarious,” Hawks said, and while he wasn’t explicitly laughing, Dabi knew that those weird little chirps he was letting out were pointed at him. “Imagine if we go through all this effort and you don’t even have some sort of dramatic background or tragic backstory to justify you being this emo, you’re just a hot topic junkie or something.”
“That’s fucking worse.”
Or,
Dabi has amnesia and keeps reading conspiracy theories about himself in an attempt to figure out who he is, gets the League in on it, and they dismantle organized crime, revolutionize society, and ravage the hero system in the process. Hawks suffers.
repeat by beeclaws
Work. Check the cameras. Keep them alive.
Aizawa keeps his head above water.
Part 3 of rescue
Riddles in the Heart by PitViperOfDoom
The law is clear: whoever correctly answers three riddles will marry the prince, while all who fail are to be executed. The people live in fear as more challengers try and fail, and the throne grows bloodier with every passing year. But a young prince, nameless and in exile from his home, believes there may be more to this brutal challenge than meets the eye.
Of course, there's only one way to find out: ring the gong, and take the trial.
bsd
Day by Day by bloodsvgarr
(explicit)
When Chuuya wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar man who offers to make him breakfast, he will have to figure out just how he got here, and why. Nothing is as easy or as simple as it seems, and nothing makes sense. There's far too much that he doesn't remember, and everything's confusing.
So what will he do when he realizes that the unfamiliar man is actually someone very close to him? What will he do when he realizes he is no longer able to recognize his own home?
Murder Mystery Matchmaking by dgalerab
(mature)
When Ranpo is ‘kidnapped’ by Poe and given the opportunity to meet his friends and solve a case, he isn’t expecting every single one of them to be a better match for Poe than Ranpo is. He certainly isn’t expecting Poe’s friends to be as invested in their rivalry as Ranpo is. And there’s no way he could have ever expected the peacock.
dc
yeah i have 2 dads AND im bisexual get rekt (and other tweets by superheroes) by kryptonianmenace
A series of stupid moments slapped together. A social media AU.
Jacket Weather by Sohotthateveryonedied
“Okay,” Jason says. He steps forward again; Tim steps back. His heel teeters off the edge now. Jason goes very still. “Do you…want some help getting down from here? I can help you. We can go together.” He holds out his gloved hand expectantly, hopefully.
Tim looks back over his shoulder at the roaring waves below. “There are probably people somewhere who need your help.”
“That’s why I’m here with you.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“It kind of looks like you do.”
knb
Fair Play by Re_Adrienne
(explicit)
Over a week after winning the Winter Cup, Kuroko finally gets his reward.
Steel Swallow, Copper Phoenix by Siana
(explicit) (rape/non-con)
A political marriage with the firstborn son of the Teikou clan is what is supposed to make the rebellious family finally fall in line. But what Akashi Seijuro, 24th Emperor of the Rakuzan line, gets with Kuroko Tetsuya is not at all what he bargained for. It might be just what he needs though.
In the midst of lies and intrigues, will these two find their way to each other, or will the tragedies of the past separate them forever?
It reminds Tetsuya that, if tradition holds true, he will never see the outside world again. A prisoner or a Queen, the difference is often negligible.
#these are actually leftovers i couldnt fit into prompt posts shhhh#weekly fic recs#no prompt#bnha fic recs#bsd fic recs#dc fic recs#knb fic recs
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I haven’t drew them in a long time ever since I left the fandom. But here they are!!!! They are like my oc’s from the first hashtag.
Fiona: Cat (top)
Sophie: Demon (bottom)
Siana: Cup (left)
Maya: Cup (right)
Hope you like them!
PS: If you have any questions for them, then you can ask them right away! :)
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head ducks down, kissing a trail down the slope of her shoulder, the tanned skin warm and and salty with sweat. brown hair is smoothed back from her skin, fingers trailing downwards teasingly until they reach her breasts, cupping them in his hands, teasing and playing, drawing out sweet broken sounds from her. he was taking his time, slowing their movements down, capturing the moment within him.
siana had other plans.
@heatmelded ❛ all i can think of is sitting on top of your hard cock. ❜ / heatmelded. from siana. closes my eyes.
a ragged groan escapes his lips, cock pulsing against her leg. "you are a tease," he accuses before capturing her lips, tongue thrusting inside, leading them on a sensual dance, naked bodies tangled together. hand slips down, bringing his cock to her warm entrance. "you want this?" pressing the head against her, he gathers her juices and spreads them around, finger slipping down to tease her clit. “or do you want me to fuck you into the bed?”
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Broken Art Lost Pieces (long post)
Okay I need a little rant about an accident that happen the other night. As some of you know I worked in the art museum in my city. They were hosting a private event where most doors were locked. A 21 year old broke one of the glass doors and enter the museum and damaged 5 million dollars worth of art. His reason was "he was upset with his girlfriend". The exhibit that face the most damage was the Ancient Greek Art. The Native American exhibit also suffer damages. Below are the art works that were damage.
*All information is linked including the photos*
(One of the pieces that was destroyed was a personal favorite).
Title: Black Figure Panel Amphora
Date: Last quarter of 6th century BCE
Artist: UNKNOWN
Scene shown on the amphora is from the battle of The Trojan War, the warrior Achilles is seen fighting for the fallen warrior (please don't make it about Achilles and Patroclus because it isn't) from Aethiopis, an epic poem by Homer or Arctinus of Miletus.
Title: Red-figure Pyxis with Lid: Women's Quarters
Date: uncertain close to the last 5th century BCE
Artist: UNKNOWN
Six figures are seen that wraps around the body container. To read the description of the six figures and the background information.
Title: Kylix
Date: 550-530 BCE
Artist: UNKNOWN
The kylix has a siren, women with a bird body surrounded with tongue patterns. The decorated middle zone features small vignettes of Herakles fighting the Nemean lion, flanked by elders and palmettes on each side. There are swan ornaments under the handles. This type of cup is called Siana, after a site in Rhodes where some examples of the type were found.
The last piece is from the Native American exhibit
Title: Batah Kuhuh Alligator Gar Fish Effigy Bottle
Date: 1976
Artist: Chase Kahwinhut Earles
On the museum website there is no information on the piece besides the generic info. From what I heard this one was shattered. The casing it was in was filled with smaller pieces that also suffer small damages.
They say the damages estimate total does not include museum damages ex. doors, computers, casing, phones. To quote, DMA board member Mary McDermott Cook, "Let’s face it. It’s just things. No person was hurt. And we have the technology and the expertise to put broken things back together.’ And thank God for that.”
While that is true I am still heartbroken and disappointed that someone used their anger to destroy history.
#art#art museum#art history#damaged art#ancient greece#ancient art#greek art#trending news#art news#achilles#Native American art#history destroyed#long post
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Black-figure Siana cup fragment, battle scene
600 B.C. — 501 B.C., Greece, Attica, Athens; found at Naukratis Egypt
Clay
the Fitzwilliam Museum
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hangs like lightning in the air
for the @dailyrebelcaptain Valentine’s prompt “ever after”
Also on ao3
*
It’s not a dream that wakes Jyn. When she thinks about it, she can’t be sure whether she was asleep in the first place. The doors on the Fraser don’t quite reach the floor, and the reddish light from the hallway outside spills into the room, casting dim shadows across the room in an insubstantial haze, and she wonders if maybe she’s dreaming now.
She almost hopes she is.
Cassian is warm beside her, fast asleep, worry lines smoothed on his forehead. The ship’s engine rumbles unobtrusively away.
She’s safe.
But there’s a voice echoing in her head, one she tries not to think about. She can’t silence it.
I can’t take myself away from you, Hadder said once. He meant it. But where had that gotten them? He’d left her anyway, without any say in the matter.
I can’t take myself away from you, he said, and turned to dust with the Ponta One.
It was her the TIEs meant to evaporate when they fired. She shouldn’t have survived. She’s glad she did. And she hates that she’s glad.
Jyn stares up at the ceiling and suffocates
The silence is heavy and palpable, the only sounds the hum of the engine below them and Cassian breathing beside her. Not enough to be sure she’s hearing them. Not enough to be sure she’s here. The bed is too hot, stifling and sweaty and she can’t breathe.
I’m not going anywhere, Cassian said this morning. He meant it. She knows he’ll never be Mama or Saw, walking away of his own accord.
I’m not going anywhere, he said, like it’s a promise he can keep. He won’t be Mama or Saw, but nothing can prevent his being Hadder. Turned to space debris without her on a sunny afternoon. Another day, another casualty, another tragedy. She knows she wouldn’t recover. It’s come too close too many times already. Struggling to breathe, she can’t stop her mind from replaying every one of them over and over again.
(his heart stops on the shuttle floor, his head in her lap)
(blood pours from the blaster wound in his side, his eyes glassy and dim)
(“Cassian,” she screams and his body lands crumpled with a sickening thud)
She suffocates. There are tears behind her eyes.
Like he can hear her terror, Cassian stirs.
He rolls over with a small sound, reaches an arm out for her. Pulls her closer in his sleep. He nuzzles against her back with a quiet snuffling breath, and it breaks her.
The tears spill easy now, and it’s a matter of moments before she's well and truly a mess, keeping her choked, stunted sobs quiet but unable to stop herself from shaking. Stars, she loves him.
He sleeps sounder now than he did the first times he slept beside her, but not through this. He’s awake in seconds, arms tightening around her while he finds his bearings.
“Jyn?”
She doesn’t turn around, breath hitching.
“Shh, Jyn, what’s wrong?”
She struggles for the air to answer him, but she can’t make her voice behave.
“Dream?”
She shakes her head, trying and failing to slow her breathing. Cassian sits up and guides her, so gentle, to do the same, slipping behind her, supporting her.
“Hey, it’s ok. You’re safe.”
She’s not, and neither is he. Not here, hurtling through space from one threat to another, not anywhere in a galaxy out to kill them. But for his sake, she draws in a longer breath and forces herself into some semblance of calm. He wraps an arm around her waist, and even though she’s burning up she lets him.
“That’s it. Breathe, Jyn.”
She does, matches her breathing to his while he runs his fingers through her hair.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers eventually, a lump in her throat. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Cassian sighs behind her. “I wish you wouldn’t say that. You know I want to be awake if it will help you.”
She feels the same for him, of course, but it always feels wrong to disturb him. Jyn only shrugs.
“What’s wrong?” He asks again.
How can she tell him? How can she explain the fears she’s created for herself? The galaxy is vast and uncaring and he knows it already. What is there to be said?
“Talk to me, please,” he whispers, as the silence stretches on.
“Did you ever find out what happened to Siana?” She asks finally. Cassian’s quiet for a moment.
“No. Is that what this is about? We’ve talked about this.”
(“We met when I was nineteen ,” he told her, of the curly-haired young woman smiling from a holo on his datapad. “She was sent to extract me from the academy on Carida. We got stranded on Alderaan for a few weeks on the way back. She was… incredible.”
“What happened?” She hadn’t specified what she meant. She hadn’t needed to.
He looked down. “We were on separate missions when the Empire took out our base. I lost contact with everyone. Never got it back.”
The next time she left, he pressed a secure two-way comm into the palm of her hand, the other tucked in his jacket. She’s brought it everywhere, since.)
“I’m sorry -” Her breath catches on a sob. “I’m sorry you never found her.”
He pulls her hair back and sighs. “It’s alright. Please, tell me what’s going on?”
“I… This morning you said - you said you wouldn’t leave me,” she manages to choke out.
“And I won’t.”
“I know. I - I know, I just…” She’s struggling for breath again between words. Cassian finds her hand and squeezes it in his. “It’s something Hadder said.”
Behind her, Cassian is quiet. He lets her tremble against him, overheating and restless but unwilling to pull away, for a moment that stretches on in the time it takes her tears to slow.
“Hey,” he murmurs eventually, nudging her back, “Get up with me?”
She can’t understand his goal, but still she’s compliant, standing on unsteady legs and letting him guide her into the hold. He flicks the kettle on and sits down across from her, holding her hand on top of the small table.
“Is this about Hadder, then?” He asks softly. She knows he doesn’t ask in jealousy, or anger. There’s nothing but concern in the question.
“No,” Her panic is fading away. In the full light and cool air it’s easier to calm down. “I’ve just been remembering when he… when he died. It was over so fast.”
Cassian squeezes her hand, but doesn’t say anything.
“I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear to lose you the way I did him.”
He keeps his eyes on hers steady and quietly sad, and his hand in hers.
“You know I can’t promise you it won’t happen,” he says. And she does. Of course she does. “But I promise it will never be my choice.”
She knows that, too. But to hear it said out loud is different. He’s here, he’s with her. He’s chosen her.
The kettle clicks itself off, and wordlessly Cassian gets up to get them each a cup. They’ve been out of tea for a week and a half, but the gesture is no less appreciated. He sets a cup of hot water in front of her and sits back down across from her.
“I love you,” she says, softly.
“I love you, too.” He shifts around the corner of the bench, close enough to wrap an arm around her waist. “I wish I could promise you more.”
She makes a humming sound and leans into him. “I know you’re not going to leave me. That’s more than enough.”
He kisses her hair, and neither of them says anything more. Jyn sips her water, her heart rate finally slowing. They may never be safe, but together here on their own ship it’s close enough.
The silence stretches, comfortable, until Jyn finds her eyelids drooping, her head falling to Cassian’s shoulder. It’s late, and she’s finally tired.
“Cassian?” She says, loathe to get up when he’s here to lean against.
No response. Carefully, she shifts to look at him.
Of course. He’s fast asleep against the wall, and absolutely adorable.
“Cassian,” she murmurs, smiling, and runs her fingers through her hair. He stirs, huffs.
“Hmm?”
“Hey. I think it’s past your bedtime.”
“Mmm.” He yawns, blinking his eyes open, and looks down at her. “You’re ok?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She makes herself stand up and offers him her hand. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”
Back in the bunk, he pulls her down beside him, nearly asleep again already. The veil of fear gone, Jyn’s nearly there as well.
“Cass?”
“Mm.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Goodnight, Jyn.”
Still holding his hand, Jyn finally falls asleep.
#dailyrebelcaptain#therebelcaptainnetwork#rebelcaptain#my writing#i meant to do more than one for this week but then this took me forever
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Fanart for a Korean novel "Under the Oak Tree" with inspiration from Inge Prader's recreation of Gustav Klimt's "Beethoven Frieze" by Siana Park.
And I see... probably the only nice picture I’ve spotted for Sol Invictus and Thulebelore.
The primal tragedy of the Knights of Day is the love triangle between Sol Invictus, King of the Universe, and the chief servant at His right hand, His Cup Bearer, Thulebelore, and the chief servant at His left hand, His Spear Bearer, Bonelfoermos.
I mostly focus on the disaster of it.
But it was a LOVE triangle. Before it all went wrong they did all three love each other in some form or another. There are points in the zero draft where each speaks to how they felt. Thulebelore DID love Sol Invictus as well as Bonelfoermos. Sol Invictus mentions that in some ways the betrayal of Bonelfoermos cut Him deeper, He and Thulebelore were lovers, yes, but he had other lovers (including Bonelfoermos upon occasion), while Bonelfoermos was the closest thing Sol Inivctus had to a best friend. Sol Invictus even stated that He was aware of the affair and was happy to let it happen because He loved them both. The true pain of it was that they forced Him to respond to it when He just wanted all three of them to be happy together, the closest thing He could have to a family.
So, somewhere amid and before all the tragedy, there were moments of happiness and affection.
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Session 2
[[<PREV]] | [[NEXT>]]
Let’s pretend I didn’t almost forget about this, ok? Cool? Good stuff.
episode 4 went up on patreon.com/scmalarky, if you want ahead!
players involved: Siana, Ophibwynn, Carric, Uriel
##
“Should we – we should take this back to the city. Right?” Ophibwynn asks, pausing in the act of cleaning her new golden flute.
Carric shrugs. “I guess?”
“But why?” Uriel sighs. “They’ve already lost it, we could just... make it stay lost?”
“No!” Ophibwynn shakes her head. “No, we’re definitely taking it back. We can’t just keep it all.”
“Oh?” Carric raises an eyebrow, glancing at the flute in Ophibwynn’s hands.
“Finder’s fee,” Ophibwynn replies, after a pause.
Carric laughs. “Alright.”
They find a handcart and load the rest of the stolen goods onto it, and pile Siana in on the top of it all, since she hasn’t yet woken up.
“How long does that mushroom effect last?” Ophi nods at Siana.
“Uhhh...” Carric shrugs. “She’ll be fine. Probably.”
“Alright...”
“Come on,” Uriel says, stalking out of the camp. “If I do not get to keep everything, I would at least like to be in a proper bed tonight.”
Carric and Ophi share a glance and, between them, create a magic sending that will pull the cart for them.
When they arrive at the citadel, the gates are closed and Rarder, the human in charge of the guards at the gate, is leaning over the wall atop it.
“Any chance you can let us in?” Carric calls up.
“Depends,” Rarder yells back down. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
“The... missing items?” Ophi says. “We found the bandits that had stolen them.”
Rarder whistles, sounding impressed. “Well.” He turns to yell – roar, maybe, is the better word – down to whoever’s below to open the gate.
He meets them inside and glances over the group, gaze resting on Siana’s sleeping form for a moment. “You’d best take all that over to Captain Aewyth. Annan, you show ‘em the way.”
One of his guards – a human, tanned skin, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail – nods to Rarder as she steps up to the group. “This way.”
They follow her away from the gate.
“So,” Annan says, seeming to relax as they get further from Rarder’s watchful gaze. “Bandits, huh? How did you find them?”
“I took-”
“We found a map,” Carric says quickly, talking over Uriel. “And we thought we’d check it out.”
Annan nods, glancing at Uriel. “Where was it?”
“Out in the woods. Not too far off the path, honestly. Nice little clearing.”
Annan nods again, and the whisper of a frown passes across her face, too quickly for the group to notice.
She leads them to a local command post which, despite the late hour, is still fairly busy with guards coming and going.
“Can we leave – oh, Siana! You’re awake.” Carric looks back to see her sitting up, still fairly groggy.
Annan whistles over a guard. “Keep an eye on this cart until Aewyth works out what needs doing, alright?”
She walks into the building without waiting, and the four hurry in after her.
Annan leads them past the first two doors – one of which is slightly ajar, and sounds of training can be heard coming through it – and to a closed door just off the main hallway. She raps her knuckles against it, and the conversation behind it halts.
“Yes?”
“Rarder sent me,” Annan says, opening the door. “This group found the stolen items.”
“Send them in.”
Annan opens the door and lets the group file in past her.
The office is mostly neat. The desk is not quite covered in small piles of loose notes and empty cups. There‘s a long table along one side with a couple of plants and a small shelf of books on it, upon which a kobold sits, practically bouncing with badly restrained energy.
A magelight hovers in the corner next to the covered window, which seems to be the only source of light in the room. It’s dim, casting a comforting sort of glow.
Annan doesn’t wait to be dismissed before she’s closed the door and left them there.
“So. You found the stolen goods?” Aewyth scans the group.
“Yeah.” Ophi nods. “They were, um, just... outside the city...?
Carric and Uriel engaged in a minor tussle, in which Carric is victorious and holds out the map.
“Found this,” she says, and passes it over. “But we brought them back in, they’re in a cart just outside.”
The kobold shifts to sitting cross-legged, leaning forward with his hands on his ankles, studying the group with unabashed curiosity.
“Who are you?” Carric asks.
“Bituin,” he replies, grinning.
“You don’t... need to pay him any attention,” Aewyth says.
“Wrong, you should pay me lots of attention. I know things.”
“Yeah?” Carric smiles. “What do you know? Anything interesting happen recently?”
Bituin hesitates, appearing to think. “Oh!” He smacks his tail off the table beside him. “Yeah! There was someone new in the city last night. They came in near the waygate, but not through it. That interesting?”
“Did you see them?”
“Yeah, they were all dark ‘n’ mysterious! Wearing a cloak that reached the ground, I couldn’t see their feet at all.”
“Bituin.” Aewyth casts him a slightly tired look.
He giggles and pulls back against the wall.
“I am. sorry about him.” She rubs her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Tell me – was the Hanging of the Empress amongst the stolen items?”
“The Hanging... I don’t think so.” Ophi shakes her head.
Siana sits upon the floor and pulls out a bag of runemarks. “It wasn’t, but if I just...” She passes them from hand to hand and then pools them across the floor.
The others move back, giving her space to work.
Bituin rocks forward onto his knees and peers down, and his eyes seem to glow briefly before he blinks.
“It’s... it’s the reason everything was stolen,” Siana says. “It’s long gone.”
Aewyth leans back in her chair, sighing. “Right. Thank you. I... will pass that on. And get everything back to its original owners.”
“Ok, uh – we'll... be at the Knave and Cauldron? I guess?”
Ophi winces. “I am so late for my shift.” She turns to hurry from the room and the building.
The other three follow her, Siana hurriedly picking up her runes and piling them back into their pouch.
They’re partway across the square in front of the command post when Bituin comes running after them.
“You dropped this!” He holds out a note to them.
“Thanks?” Carric takes it. “I don’t think we did, but – he's gone.”
Bituin has darted off down a side street, disappearing in an instant.
She unfolds the note and squints at the elegant writing.
This is the last of the items from Malpha that we need you to acquire. Once this is completed, we no longer require your services; your reward is on its way. Keep out of sight, and await any further orders.
It is unsigned, but the front of the note is addressed to “Aelfswild”.
“That’s... that’s the guy we bought the gems from,” Carric says. “Right?”
“Think so.” Siana shrugs. “It doesn’t say who it’s from?”
“No.” Carric passes the note to Uriel, who inspects it closely.
“Well, he might be at the Knave and Cauldron,” Ophi says, all but running ahead of them. “So come on!”
The sun is mostly set by the time they arrive.
Aldehrt, the owner of the inn, grunts at them as they arrive, and gestures Ophi to the small stage.
She dives up there, shedding her bag and coat on the way, and stumble to a halt at the seat, pulling out her carrot flute to start up a jaunty tune.
“Do you know Aelfswild?” Siana asks. “He was in here last night, with an elf.”
Aldehrt frowns. “You think I know everyone that comes in here?”
“Well-” Siana starts.
“I don’t, alright? Don’t know the name.”
“Maybe we could jog your memory?” Uriel asks, before Carric can quiet her. She’s spinning a knife between her fingers, and her tarantula is sitting on her shoulder.
“She doesn’t - she doesn’t mean that,” Carric says, pushing Uriel’s hand down. “But do you know someone who might know where to find him?”
Aldehrt narrows his eyes, drawing his shoulders up like he’s squaring for a fight.
Ophi, from the stage, bleeds a little bit of magic into her flute playing, and a calming sensation takes over the room.
“Bondua,” Aldehrt says, still a little gruff. “He’s not here tonight, but he knows everyone.”
“Thank you,” Carric replies. “Appreciated.”
She pulls Uriel with her and Siana to a table out of the way. “So.”
Siana pulls out her runes again, placing the note on the table and tipping them over it. “Looks like this is from an elf sorcerer.”
“Not from here, I’m guessing. Not if everything’s going out of town.”
Siana nods and tosses her runes again, but doesn’t get anything new.
As Ophi finishes her shift, she talks to a few of the regulars, asking some questions. When she sits down with the group, a tray of drinks in hand, she announces that the Hanging of the Empress – a tapestry depicting one of the Elder Gods in their high form – was formerly displayed in the Scriptorium, before it was stolen.
The group decide to head there in the morning, and proceed to down their drinks and find their rooms to crash in.
~
Over breakfast, the four decide to put together disguises and fake their way into the Scriptorium as religious personages from out of town.
The Scriptorium is an imposing building. It’s taller than the others around it, and built of heavy stone blocks, without any kind of intricate moulding or design.
Siana stares up at the slanted roof and thinks about climbing up there to see across the city.
Ophi tugs her attention back to the door of the Scriptorium as they reach it, and Carric knocks.
The doors are closed; it’s early, maybe even too early.
Carric knocks again, and Uriel gleefully calls out, “Open up, or we’ll kill you!”
“No we won’t,” Carric hisses.
Uriel shrugs.
The door opens, just a crack, and Uriel brightens up.
“See? I knew it would work!”
“Can I... help you?” The kobold squints up at them and pulls back into the shadow of the door, out of the soft morning light.
“We’d like to talk with... with whoever’s in charge,” Carric says. “Important matters.”
“And you are?”
“Visiting dignitaries?” Ophi suggests. “I mean – we're. From a religious branch. Out of town.”
“Yes,” Siana says, her eyes still on the roof. “We’d like to talk things over. About the heights we can reach.”
The kobold squints at them and hums. “You two.” He points at Carric and Uriel. “You can come in.”
“What did we do?” Ophi looks affronted.
“Limited visitors,” the kobold replies. “I’m sure you understand.”
Carric glances back and shrugs at Ophi and Siana as she follows Uriel and the kobold in.
Ophi tries to follow, but gets the door shut in her face. “Huh.” She turns to Siana. “So... what should we do?”
“I can climb it.” Siana was still staring up at the roof.
“I think... I think that might make it worse.” Ophi crouches to pick up Gordon. “But if we can get Gordon through a window, maybe he can help. Somehow.”
Siana nods and circles around the corner of the building and into the slim alley. “Here, pass him over.” She looks up at a window, a little above the low building next to them.
Ophi passes over the rabbit and steps back as Siana scales the side of the building with relative ease.
She sets Gordon on the window ledge while she jimmies the window open, and leans in to drop the rabbit onto the floor.
“Alright,” Siana murmurs, as she drops back to the ground. “He’s in.”
Ophi nods. “Back to the inn?”
Siana glances up at the roof again, and sighs. “Alright.”
Inside the Scriptorium, Carric and Uriel are led through tall, straight corridors with only a few off shooting paths.
He knocks at an unadorned door and waits for the person inside to call him to enter. “I have visiting dignitaries. They’re like to speak to you.”
“Let them in, then.”
As they enter, Gordon comes hopping down the corridor, and Carric crouches to pick him up. Her own familiar, a wren, hops down her arm to greet Gordon, and something seems to pass between the two of them.
All the grandiose austerity of the scriptorium comes to a head in this room, which seems too large for the person sitting behind the slab of a desk.
She seems young. Lightly tanned skin, round glasses, auburn hair that almost impossibly fades to purple at the ends. She’s already watching them as they enter the room. There’s only a few things on the desk that she could have been paying attention to before they entered, but it isn’t clear which held her attention.
“Visiting dignitaries? We weren’t informed of any visitors coming our way.” She doesn’t stand up to greet them.
“Surprise visit,” Carric replies, smiling. “You are...?”
“Autag. I run the manuscriptorium. That will be all.” She flicks long fingers in the kobold’s direction.
The kobold leaves them, closing the door in his wake.
“We’re investigating the thefts,” Carric says. “I believe the Hanging of the Empress was taken from here?”
Autag stiffens, almost imperceptibly. She spreads out her fingers, like she’s merely stretching them. “Where did you hear that?”
“Aewyth,” Uriel says, and Autag almost frowns. “We managed to find some of the stolen goods on our way into the city. I am sorry that the hanging wasn’t amongst them.”
“I suspect it is long gone. It has been two weeks, after all.”
Carric clears her throat. “Have you any clues? About how it might have been taken.”
Distaste flashes across Autag’s face. “I suspect an inside job. There was a kobold who was more interested in it than his work.”
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared, not long after the Hanging was stolen. I should have known. He was hired as a favour to someone, but he wasn’t quite so particular about the job as I was told.” She lets out a chuckle. “Well; he wasn’t particular about the job I gave him.”
“Do you remember who asked you to hire him?” Uriel is stalking the room, studying the edges of it like she’ll find something out of place.
“... No.” Autag watches her, face carefully blank.
Carric closes her eyes, focusing. Her familiar stands on her shoulder and whistles an odd, fluting tune.
Its eyes glow, its feathers darkening into a swirling sort of implacable void as her patron speaks through it.
“Į̵̪͚͚͈͙̦̝̓̀̐͌ ̸̡̢̮̯̖̙͌̎̑̃̌̊́́͛͌̿͐͠͠͠à̶̡̧̭̣̮̥̠̠̲͉̥̘́̉̋̚m̸̧̘͚̜͍̰̭̳̼͔͌̌̈́͑̏̔̊͘ͅ ̷̨̛̥͉͇͖̉̅͂̄̎͋͗͜l̵͓̇͐̋í̵̧̦̭̠͍͚̲͕̙͍͇̕͜ͅs̷̢̧̭̠͚̖͙͈̱̹͍̤̝͍̋̐͘͝t̶̳̯̪́̿̈̒̑̑̏̈́̀̕͝ȩ̵̛̰̞̣̭̤̝̫͉̞̜̺͆̍͌̋̍̋̓̔́͋͒͝͝ͅͅn̵̡̧̳̝̪̭̪̬̰̾̀́̚ì̷̢̻̩̜̬̹n̸̢̛͇̝̺̯̗̱͍͙͓̍͆́̀͂̚g̴̟̳̞̖̪͉̙̦̭̱̮̤̈́̒͛̓̉̎͌̚͘.”
“Can you tell me who hired this kobold?” Carric asks.
Autag is watching, curious.
The wren tilts its head, and after a pause, “T̴̨̧̞̬̭̲̯̣̰̥̲̙͒̇̌̉̎̂̈́̎̇͛̂͋̍ĥ̸̞̻̣̬͚̟̝̟̞̩̈́͂͂͘͜e̶̜̓̓́́̀̉i̸̹̬̗̙͎̳͉̙̫̞̹̐̇̄̈́́̽̊́̒͌͗ͅr̵̠͔͇͗ ̷̡̡̢̡̨̘͚̬̬̠̹͕̞̂̀̒̅̽̾͋̏̓̕̕͝ņ̷̘̜̥͎͈̟̰̈̂̄ą̶̛̖̼̫̫̦̳̗͈̓̋̎̈͑͒̈́̓̈͘m̵̯͓͔͈̰̘̤̖̝̙̜͉̾̉̌̓̓̇̀̃̀̀͘͠ě̶̢̨͉̠̳̭̝͚͖̻̫̓̆̌͐̋̒͗̀̿͑̕͝͝ ̸̬̭̻̦̥̱̿͆͌̈̾̅͂̕̕͝ȉ̵͙̜̣͈̯̰͚͎̍͋̒̇̂̊̐̕ͅͅs̶̡̡̢͉͇͙̝̞͚͚̦̿̌͋̈̄́̆̀̔͋̅̈́̐͝ͅ ̴̢̛͉̠̟͎͇̒̍̐̏̿̅͂̂͑̒̐̄Ǐ̷̩̗͓̗̲̫̰̜͍̜̪̹́͊̀̄͋͆̓̐̇̽̏͝͝l̴̡̧̬̘̰̲͎̝̖̬̖̥̙̂̿́̓̋̀̽̎͛͜͝r̵̛͖͈̭̝̱͕͚̟͎͎͚͆͛̀̌̋̅̿́̔̓͗̀̎͠ͅǫ̵͖̹̝̦̗̮̱̤̦̤̦̥̟̫͐͂̍̉̀̋̀̉̄̊̽̊m̷̡̳̟̞̬̞̬̳͚̻͈̖͛͛̊̄͒͜͝ͅĭ̵̢͈̮̻̖͍͓̲̟̱̫̇̓̋͂̂̍͒̃̓̃.”
Gordon shifts like he wants down.
“Nothing more?” Carric asks, relaxing her arms.
Gordon drops onto the ground and lollops over to where Uriel is trailing the room.
“Ouch.” Carric presses a hand to her head. “Ok. Thank you.”
The wren whistles again, and returns to normal.
“Uriel.”
Uriel puts down the heavy paperweight – a solid orb of wood – and looks over. “What?”
“We should find the others.” Carric turns to Autag. “Thank you. Are you hiring? To cover the loss of Driany?”
“Are you looking for a job?” Autag’s lip curls. “No. There are no openings.”
“Alright. Thanks.” Carric hefts Gordon back into her arms, and nudges Uriel towards the door. “We’ll not take up any more of your time.”
Autag watches them leave, inscrutable.
They find Ophibwynn and Siana in the Knave and Cauldron; Ophibwynn brightens up considerably as she sees Gordon in Carric’s arms.
“I have an idea,” she says, and takes Gordon back.
Gordon is almost instantly lined with an unearthly glow, becoming less a rabbit and more a rabbit shaped window into the void, much like Carric’s bird had done.
“Where can we find Bondua?”
Uriel almost scoffs, but she falls silent when Carric raises a hand to stop her.
“W̸̨̛̪̠̠̽̄̔͌̌͒̌͐i̴̳̣̍͊̋̾ẗ̴͔̦̫͉̦̖̘̪̯́h̸̙̤̖̹̫͆̌̀͗̈́̃̐́̅̚i̸̧͚̟̼̔n̶̤̤͖̝̥̟̭̞̻̩͇̍̽͆̿ ̷̭̠̬͖͔̘̬̙̠͎́́t̴͎͕͚̠̺̙̘̜̹͔̯̻̯̳̐͑̊̍̒̉̓̎̓̽̓ͅh̶̙̲̠͕̮͛͆͆́̂̐͒̐̑ȩ̸̡̡͖̤͍̦̭̱͚̣̭̿̿̏̈͐̎̇͌͜͜͠ͅ ̷̡̛̰̮̣̱̟̋̎͆͠w̸̛͉͌̚ą̶̰̩̟̘̦̞̭͉͖̪͈̐́̎͌̒͑̅̀͋͝l̷̡̧̡̘̲͈̭͚̳̠̀͑͋͊̊̊̿̑̌̋̅͑̆͠l̸̛̙̦̦͌͆́͛̏̌̅̕s̷̫̀͑͊̓͂̈́͊͆ ̵̡̢͕̹̰̺̱͖̦̀̀̂̽̚o̴̡̤͍̪̥͚͈͓͔̻̔̊f̵̺͒̿͋̊̇̑̊̎͆ ̴̱͓͍́̆̃̊́̍̽̅͂t̵̠̗̪̲̥͖͍͇̮͈͌h̸̙̜̮̗̫̯̥̭͙͉͈͈̫͉̎̒̇̌̚e̷͎̹̻̻͝ ̸̡͕̞̞͚̣̙͕̬͍̟̺̈́̀͜͜S̴̺̖̜̜͇̅̌̌̌̽͐͒̆̈́̈̀͠e̴͇͎̬̊͊̌͂̓͋̒̓͑ř̴̨̧͖̤̗͙͎̻̽͐̀̓̒̒̔̏̕͝ͅp̵̨̪̙̳̟̼̗͍̱͔̺͛̇͌̓̔̚e̴͈̮̤̭̘͉̗̤͙̝̩̫̎̔̎̒̀̔͊͌̃͂͐͘n̴̡̛͙̐̂́́̽̽͋̋̐͠͝͠ͅt̷̡̖̦̲͚͔̲̤̯̲̯̻̫̄̏̽͗̓͛̑̀͆̈́̂͋͑ͅ ̵̢̞̪̜̈̓̇̎́̑̀͒̒͌̚͘͠I̶̫̬͍͉̎̅͒̂̈̋̿̈́͆́̈n̶̪̲̱͈͎̙̙͇̻̟͇̪͋̅̐̌͗̇̋̾̈̎͐̿̃̾͜n̴̨̡̢̛̛̤̥͕̝͍̮̎̍̈́͐̔͆̓́̿̊̋.”
“Is that a... wise way to find out?” Siana asks.
“Thank you.” Ophibwynn strokes Gordon’s ears.
“We’ve already made the deals with them,” Carric says. “So we might as well use what we’ve got, you know?”
“The Serpent Inn...” Ophi frowns. “Aldehrt, do you know it?”
He’s walking past their table as she asks. “Sure. It’s in Highlamp. Will you be back for your shift tonight?”
“Probably?” Ophi shrugs. “We... might be onto something here.”
Aldehrt grunts. “Alright.”
Uriel looks up as the rest stand and make their way towards the door. “We just got here!”
“And now we’re going somewhere else. Come on. There’s another inn with drinks at the end of it.”
Uriel stands, grumbling, and follows.
The Serpent Inn is a strange place. They say it was built by an elf in the early days of the stabilised waygate, as either a peace offering or a levelling of the field. It still has those marks of elvish creation, most notably the spells laid like carvings into the woodwork that allow everyone to know each other’s names from the minute they walk past the threshold. Those same spells also prevent offensive magic from being used within the walls.
Elfgild – the current owner, a half-orc – is working on pulling the magic from the walls, but until then, the spells remains.
It is almost noon; the inn is quiet, but for Elfgild behind the bar, and two patrons sitting at a low table in front of one of the arched windows. These are Bondua, an elf, and Coirpre, a half-elf. They’re deep in conversation as the group come closer.
“You really think I can get in, this time?” Coirpre is asking. He seems younger, in attitude and face. Middling brown skin, amber eyes, glasses that half conceal the glyph mark burnt into his skin. His hair is almost amber, shaved close on the sides and swept back on the top.
“Of course,” Bondua replies. His skin is almost ashen grey, his hair piled on the top of his head in a bun of coils, leaving his long ears free to move. “I truly think the Scriptorium is the place you should be.”
“Oh, good luck getting in there, mate,” Carric says, dropping into a seat. “They aren’t hiring.”
Coirpre’s face falls. “Oh.”
Bondua frowns. “Where did you get that information?”
“From Autag. Talked to her this morning.”
“I - uh, I should be going.” Coirpre gets to his feet. “Thank you. I think.”
“Any time, little one.” Bondua smiles almost fondly at Coirpre. There’s something just slightly threatening behind it, like a spider eyeing a fly.
“Let’s get drinks,” Ophi says, attempting to catch Elfgild’s notice.
“What can I do for you?” Bondua sketches his gaze over the four of them as they shuffle seats about.
“We were hoping you could tell us about this,” Carric pulls the note from her pocket and passes it across the table.
He takes it, examines it. “Since none of you are Aelfswild, I do have to wonder where you picked this up.”
“Handed to us by mistake. Do you know who it’s from?”
Bondua shakes his head, accepting one of the drinks that Elfgild brings over.
“Look, we just want to return it to Aelfswild. Seems important, right?” Carric takes a tankard and drinks first.
Bondua hums. “I think I can get it to him, if you like.”
“We’d rather meet him ourselves,” Ophi says.
“Do you know where to find him?” Carric asks, as she casts the smallest truth spell she can, trying to avoid detection.
“I don’t know where he stays. But I know someone who does.”
“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”
“Can you... get them to meet us?”
“Why are you trying to get Coirpre into the Scriptorium?” Uriel asks, leaning over. “Did you help to steal-”
“Nothing like that.” Bondua laughs. “I simply think it would be... prudent to have a man on the inside.”
“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”
Bondua stands. “I will send for my friend, shall I?”
“Please.”
As Bondua leaves, the group lean in.
“Ok,” Opih says. “What else did you find out in the Scriptorium?”
Carric and Uriel fill them in as they wait for Bondua to return.
They’re eating, when Bondua arrives with Annan in tow, and drinking a little heavily.
There are more patrons now, the place filling up as the afternoon draws on. The influx of names as each one crossed the threshold takes some getting used to, but after a while it becomes easier to tune out. The drinking helps a little.
Annan tenses as she crosses the threshold, whipping her head around to stare at the group.
“Oh, it’s you!” Uriel grins. “Hello again.”
“... Hi.” Annan slips into a seat beside them. “Bondua said you wanted to meet Aelfswild.”
“How do you know him?” Ophi pushes a tankard over to Annan.
“Old friends,” she replies, taking it up.
“And you can take us to see him?” Ophi smiles, leaning back against the chair, head lolling slightly onto Siana.
“... Sure. It’ll have to wait until I’ve finished my shift.”
“Ugh, night shift.” Ophi wrinkles her nose. “The worst.”
Annan laughs, slightly awkwardly. “As long as it pays, right?”
Ophibwynn hums, taking out her current flute and beginning to play half notes.
“In the morning?” Carric asks. “The Knave and Cauldron?”
Annan shakes her head. “The market between Orchard and Crystalfane.”
“Alright.”
Annan glances at Bondua, who smiles cryptically at her. “I’d best be going.”
“Tell your boss not to be such a hardass,” Ophi mumbles past her flute.
Annan laughs, and leaves them to it.
“You won’t be playing your shift tonight, will you?” Siana asks Ophibwynn.
“I can play it here,” says Ophi, and returns to shakily playing her flute.
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i was tagged by @mindoir !! thank u love <3
rules: answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better
tagging: whoever wants to do this! tag me as the person who tagged u if you’d like~
name/nickname: siana/anna
gender: nonbinary (she/they tho any pronoun ig is fine)
star sign: libra
height: 5′1 (almost 5′2)
time: 5:17 pm
birthday: sep 23
favourite bands: listen i’m just kpop trash rn... pentagon, monsta x, ateez, nct, oneus, stray kids, dreamcatcher
favourite solo artists: dawn, ashnikko, jessi, taemin, wonho
song stuck in my head: dawndididawn by dawn and also criminal by taemin
last movie: rudolph the red-nosed reindeer but it’s the circus edition
last show: i don’t watch tv really so the last thing i watched/still am watching is a let’s play of majora’s mask *again*
when did I create this blog: this one specifically like 2018-2019 i think but my og blog i’ve been here since ............. 2011? 2012?
what do I post: everything, i used to be a game blog but i’m just vibing bay bee
last thing googled: can’t pee in a cup reddity
do I get asks: sometimes! i really enjoy them!
why I chose my url: i’m a gremlin that wishes they were an elf
following: 2k
followers: 340 (on old blog 3k)
average hours of sleep: 3-8
lucky number: 5, 10, 20, 50, and multiples of 2
instruments: my instrument is my throat
what am I wearing: joggers and a big ole t-shirt from the men’s section in walmart
dream job: honestly i wanna be a youtuber, but doing something funny. i wanna make ppl laugh and have a fun time, or sing
dream trip: anywhere but america, i’d love to go back to germany
last book I read: illuminae by kaufman and kristoff (still reading, super interesting book composed of websites and letters and emails and articles, you gotta piece it together yourself)
favourite food: tempura mushroom sushi OOGOGHGHHH i want it so bad
nationality: american
favourite song: 대동단결 by monsta x
top three fictional universes: dragon age, mass effect, loz
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Terracotta kylix: Siana cup (drinking cup) by Painter of Boston C.A., Greek and Roman Art
Medium: Terracotta
Rogers Fund, 1912 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY
http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/248725
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An Attic Black-figured Siana Cup
Attributed to the Taras Painter, the tondo perhaps by the Malibu painter, circa 560-550 B.C.
Each sided painted with two striding panthers alternating with two grazing deer, a vine of ivy leaves encircling the rim, the tondo decorated with a warrior running vigorously to right, wearing a Phrygian helmet, and holding a sword and shield, a scabbard at his side and baldric across his chest, the details in added red, a black-painted prong and encircling band underneath the foot.
Diameter 25.1 cm.
The Taras Painter was a close colleague of the Malibu Painter and that “it seems that they also potted cups which the other one decorated, as can be inferred from the tondo of this cup. The style of painting and drawing is so close to that of the Malibu Painter that it is difficult to decide whether the warrior was depicted by that painter or by the Taras Painter in imitation of his colleague.
#An Attic Black-figured Siana Cup#The Taras Painter#The Malibu Painter#circa 560-550 B.C.#pottery#greek pottery#ancient pottery#ancient artifacts#archeology#archeolgst#history#history news#ancient history#ancient culture#ancient civilizations#ancient greece#greek history#greek art
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story time
Okay so my mother is a strange person, but come on.
She’s loading the dishwasher and she asks me if there’s anything else that needs to be put in it, so I hand her my fork and a cup but before she takes them, I clink them together with the straightest face I can muster and blurt the word cork. I’ve never seen the light from her eyes fade faster.
THEN.
she opens the door to let a cat in and goes “oh look someone is at the door! And it’s Siana!…wait no it’s not, it’s Marlene!”
She literally mistook my 18lb tabby cat for her deceased (of 13 years now) Siamese cat. Someone come get me. Please.
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cbd therapy nasiona
Autor: Olej konopny fabrykowany jest z kopi siewnych, nie z ich narkotycznego odpowiednika, konopi indyjskich. Ogromny jako na obecną jakość okres kwitnienia spodoba się niecierpliwym chcącym doświadczyć tej dużej odmiany. Na pasek wszystkiej Polski polskie reguła wzięcia zarówno uprawy, posiadania, palenia marihuany i dawania wskazówek na ów kłopot. I dodaje, że w Naszym narodzie uprawiano je od stuleci.
Co jak co, jednak najważniejsza jest dla wymienionych jakość odmian nasion marihuany. Jako growerzy musimy posiadać swoją ulubioną metodę i na niej się skupiać. jej mocy krążą legendy, według niektórych wydaje się być w stanie spowodować chwilowy zanik pamięci i niesłychanie silny efekt skamienienia.
Aż do rewolucji przemysłowej w 19 wieku stanowiły one podstawę najważniejszego przemysłu ludzkości, zapewniając jej większości potrzebnych włókien, olejów i papieru, zaś także pożywienia, lekarstw, używek i tysięcy innych wyrobów. Jest gotowa do startu i nie wymaga także żadnych jakikolwiek wygórowanych bytowych warunków.
Na wolno kupić, sprzedać zboża, rogacizna, prosięta, ciągniki rolnicze, strączkowe, rzepak, kukurydzę, ziemniaki, maliny, porzeczki, aronię, jabłka, gruszki, śliwy, wiśnie. Efekty nawożenia uzależnione są w pokaźnym stopniu od kultury i zasobności gleby, naturalnych względów wilgotnościowych oraz przebiegu pogody.
Dutch Headshop has stopped selling the Amnesia Haze Automatic. Jeżeli chcemy rozpocząć proces sadzenia marihuany, to będą naszej firmie niezbędne następujące rzeczy: ziarna marihuany, ziemia, doniczka pojemności przynajmniej 20 litrów, wielkie pomieszczenie. Nielegalna hodowla konopi włóknistych podlega karze grzywny, a konopi odmiennych niż konopie włókniste podlega karze pozbawienia wolności do odwiedzenia lat 3, a w sytuacji pokaźnej ich ilości od sześć miesięcy do 8 czasów.
Nasiona z konopi Sensi Skunk są łatwe po kolekcjonowaniu i wykazują chęć do startu w przeciągu zaledwie 45-50 dni. Miałby pojawić się otwarty katalog dopuszczalnych przeznaczeń uprawianych konopi. Mężczyźni i kobiety przebywają w osobnych pomieszczeniach wyłożonych na podłodze materacami.
Adresów kanonicznych używa się również do zabezpieczania treści poprzednio kopiowaniem na inne portale. https://nasionafeminizowane.semillasautoflorecientes.info/auto-cbd/ bolączką tejże techniki przesądza toż to, że nie zaakceptować zazwyczaj przekazuje pozytywne skutki. Jak juz zdaje tyle siana na growbox i chemie (w kicie maja 2, 1k), wówczas nie bede mial oporow zaplacic za pestki, wyłącznie chce do tego podejsc sensownie i zaoszczedzic, jesli sie da (na boksie niekoniecznie chce oszczedzac, bo mi sie podoba).
AMNESIA HAZE ORIGINAL od wielu lat zdobywa nagrody dzięki Cannabis Cup i jest Królową w holenderskich coffee shopach. Dlatego ich zestaw jest najważniejszym wydarzeniem przy rocznym kalendarzu upraw - mówi Ewa Gryt, właścicielka marki, która w naszym roku konopiami siewnymi obsiała na Śląsku obszar powierzchni kilkudziesięciu hektarów.
Jakieś dwa tygodnie przed ścięciem zaczyna drastycznie żółknąc. Nasiona, które ofiaruje się w tego typu sklepach, są różnych rodzajów. Newsletter, wiadomości SMS) przez Grupę OLX sp. z., podmioty powiązane i partnerów biznesowych. Beznasienne kwiaty konopi są tym, co preferuje większość hodowców.
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Photo
Fragment from a Siana Cup: Sphinx
Greek, Attic, ca. 560 – 550 B.C.
Ceramic
Princeton University Art Museum
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