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What's a bag that says "I'm a student and I belong on this college campus?" just a type or a specific bag.
I'm 39, 6'4", and have an awesome beard. I'm going back to college full time to finish my undergrad in the fall, and am looking for a bag to help me blend in.
I haven't visited yet, but am anticipating professors and other students looking at me like "dang! who are you?"
I have a gr2 I bought for Europe this summer, and an old Refugio 26 that I used for years (Noob swag at Facebook), but I'm thinking I should get something different, a gr1? Maybe Cotopaxi or Filson?
I did decide to make sure I keep my beard trimmed, and haircut regularly, otherwise I start looking pretty homeless, it's the least I can do for diplomacy.
See title. SoA is a fan favorite game for the genre and gets brought up constantly, so with games like Grandia, FF10, and Tactics Ogre getting HD remasters and all the remakes like FF7, Dragon Quest 3, and Live Alive, will we ever see Skies on modern consoles?
What do you think the chances are for it?
[←Chapter 62] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 64→]
The students were quickly dismissed by the Mentor after Efrain declared a winner, who was desperate to do damage control.
“Okay, okay,” he said, brushing down his coat and coughing, “I see that we have failed to meet your standards. On behalf of the entire academy, I apologize immensely.”
Efrain, now that his temper had cooled, and upon realizing that he actually found the situation quite funny, put his hand on the man’s shoulder.
“No, no,” he laughed, “it was all merely an overreaction. Nicolo loved practical jokes. But, for all that, I doubt he would’ve continued teaching at this academy for years if he had no investment beyond it pranking me.”
And just like that, the man’s hope was restored.
“Yes, yes of course,” he said, “although I suggest you not tell what the inscription says to the other faculty. Some have spent… years on it.”
“No wonder, it’s a personal language we made up when we were youths. It’s a ramshackle, cobbled together thing, nigh-impossible to figure out, unless one was inflicted by the insight of drunken insanity.”
The man laughed, Efrain laughed, and he looked around at the academy’s towers and bridges.
“Well, he did fine for himself, clearly,” Efrain said, “even married an Eisen. Its good to know he spared some thought for me, even if it was to pull one over in death. Now I can’t even get revenge now. Clever bastard.”
“Yes, quite,” said the man, coughing, “now, I would be happy to show you to your office. It’s one of our finest.”
The whole situation wasn’t merely funny, he decided, it was hilarious. Unfortunately for Nicolo, Efrain still remembered some of his more embarrassing exploits. He wondered if the man had a biography that was taught - perhaps it needed some correction by a primary source.
“Well, lead on,” he said to the Mentor.
They proceeded from one of the lower bridges to the largest of the four connected towers. The panelled walls were both old and expensive, indicating that the school was indeed more than a joke Students of multiple ages and stripes went this way and that, some carrying books, others merely chatting among friends. Several more hallways and a staircase or two later, the mentor stood before a tall door.
“And here it is,” he said, puffing out his chest with pride, “one of our best.”
“That’s the second time,” Efrain noted, and the man self-consciously pushed open the door, revealing a narrow room.
It was comfortable, with a large desk taking up most of the space, a small bed and stove tucked into the corner. The wall behind the desk was mostly of modest bookshelves, stocked with tomes, some familiar, others not so much. A single, large window, open shutters flung outward, looked out toward the center of the city. The mentor looked around, and then at Efrain, clearly anxious to please.
“Wonderful,” Efrain said, “I hope I’m not depriving anyone of their space for my short stay.”
“No, no, not at all,” the mentor said, “in fact, your timing was fortuitous. One of the professors has elected to retire.”
“Ah,” Efrain said, sitting in the large chair behind the desk.
“You must be exhausted,” said the Mentor, hovering by the door, “I suppose I’ll just come and check on you in the morning. Supposedly your group is to attend the Festival as honoured guests.”
“News to me,” Efrain said, leaning back as he looked out the open window.
“Would you like a change of clothes, a meal, water to bathe in?” said the man.
“No, thank you,” Efrain said, “in fact, I wouldn’t mind a brief tour, actually.”
The man’s face lit up in response to the casual suggestion - clearly he took pride in the institution.
“Yes, yes, why of course, I would be happy to,” he said, “when would you like to begin?”
“Now,” Efrain said, getting up from his chair and moving past the man.
“Actually, now that I think of it, the last of the evening classes should be just starting,” said the Mentor, “would you like to sit in on one. It uses your books.”
A couple minutes, and Efrain was sitting in the back of a small room, dozens of fresh-faced students looking back between him and a professor at a lectern.
“So, as we discussed in the last class,” said the old man with a beard hanging over his considerable stomach, “actually, who would dare to tell me what is the ultimate goal of magic.”
Efrain was busy rifling through the provided textbook on the matter, his apprehension growing with every page that he passed. He’d forgotten just how bad some of his earliest work had been, and now was reliving his mistakes with vivid horror. Several hands rose, and a young girl who couldn’t be more than twelve was selected.
“Magic is a purest expression of the human,” she said, clearly reciting what she’d learned by heart, “it is an attempt to get away from the base naturalness of ourselves and transcend into something greater.”
Efrain stifled a groan as he heard his early and more poetic pondering on magics parroted back at him.
The class continued on until Efrain couldn’t stand it any longer. The professor was in the middle of explaining how magic could be derived from the environment, which was correct, but that was inferior in all cases to simply deriving it from oneself, which wasn’t. Efrain snapped the booklet shut as loud as he could, drawing the gaze of everyone in the class.
“Alright,” he said, getting up, “we need to stop. Stop. All of this is a mistake.”
The professor, quite confused, looked towards the mentor for any sign that he should intervene. The mentor merely shook his head as Efrain stalked towards the lectern.
“My good man, take a seat for a little while,” Efrain said, “there are some errors of mine I have to correct.”
He gripped the edges of the lectern, trying to decide how best to approach this, and begun by clearing his throat.
“Is knowledge truth?” he said, prompting a rash of confused stares.
He departed from the lectern, and walked in front of the students.
“Again, is knowledge truth? Is knowledge automatically, by definition, true?”
“Well, yes,” said a young man slowly.
“Ah,” Efrain said, rounding on him, “so, if I were to stumble on half a conversation a noblewoman has about some innocent meeting she had with a young man, mistook it for an affair, and reported it to her husband, would I be lying?”
“Well, yes, kind of?” said the boy, his brows furrowing. Several of the other students blushed at the impropriety of the statement.
“But that was using the knowledge I possessed, and if knowledge is truth, then where is the lie?” Efrain said, sitting on the edge of the table, “all I did was relay my knowledge, hence, relay the truth to my friend, her husband.”
“I- I-,” said the boy, “then you were misinformed.”
“Precisely,” Efrain said, taking the book from before him and walking back to the front of the class to raise it before the children.
“The truth cannot lie, by definition, but knowledge can, implying that it is a distinct entity from the truth,” Efrain said, as he rounded the lectern.
“Perhaps it is not a matter of relaying the truth,” called the mentor from the back, “but inferring the truth only from half-knowledge.”
Efrain pointed the booklet towards him.
“And that is why he is a mentor and you are still students,” Efrain said, “but what is the point I hear you asking?”
A few genuinely seemed to think he could hear their thoughts and shrank back from this strange, belligerent man.
“The point is this - the books you’re reading are nonsense. Inferences made from a tiny amount of knowledge, by an overconfident idiot.”
The professor started forward at this sacrilege of the texts, but the mentor held him back.
“Now, if you’re intelligent, which I’m sure all of you are, you should be asking about now, ‘how could he possibly know? Who is he to come into our class and start making such claims?’ That’s good,” Efrain paused, and pointed to the cover.
“Would someone care to read me the title of this particular text?” he said.
One of the students, another boy, looked down and began to say in a high, weedly voice.
“Basic Principles of Magic: A Treatise,” he said, looking up to see if he’d somehow passed whatever test Efrain was given him.
“Keep going young man,” Efrain said, nodding him on.
“W-written by Nicolo Eisen, Efrain Belacore, and Avidius Armsted, compiled by Nicolo Eisen and Avidius Armsted.”
“Which is to say, ‘principally written by Efrain Belacore and Avidius Armsted, with footnotes of historical nature by Nicolo Eisen.’ He was always more interested in the history anyways,” Efrain said, slapping the book on the lectern.
The children all looked back and forth between each other, trying to see if any had an understanding better than themselves.
“To answer your question,” Efrain said, “the reason I both possibly know and get to come into your class and make such claims is that I am the middle name on your textbook.”
The explosion of curiosity and confusion was a delight to Efrain, who held up the book to the ceiling, pointing to it.
“To be clear, my name, young ones, is Efrain Belacore, and I’m here to tell you why half of my book is wrong, and the other half is incomplete.”
The class sat in dumbfounded silence, trying to gauge what the appropriate response to such information could possibly be.
“Let’s start with something simple, though, young lady,” Efrain pointed to the young girl who’d given the first definition to start the class.
“Restate your definition, if you’d be so kind,” he said, which she did word for word.
“I wrote that line when I was under the impression that magic was apart from the natural world,” Efrain said, “in the sense that it could be used to transform it, to add value to it, much like some artists will say that their paintings cut through to the soul of the subject, removing the mortal veil on top of it or some hogwash like that.”
Efrain walked in front of the class.
“We are all part of the natural world, even if we strive to rise above it, whatever that means,” Efrain said, “you get cut, you bleed, you do that enough you die, your body returns to the earth, and so on and so forth. Magic is an extension of all those natural processes, not something apart from it. So, young men and women, do not spurn the world in the pursuit of magic.”
Efrain spied a beautifully made pin, stuck in the hair of a young woman.
“Excuse me, could I borrow that for a moment?” he said, gesturing to the pin.
“Uh, y-yes, sure,” she said, hastily pulling out the pin and letting her hair fall around her shoulders as she presented it to him.
“Thank you very much,” he said, as he held up the pin.
“Right, do not spurn it in the pursuit of magic, rather, embrace it. Seek inspiration in it,” Efrain said, focusing on the butterfly motif.
Again, unbidden, the memories of exploding light and claps of sound.
Copies of the exact butterfly carven on the head of the pin streamed out, following trails of light to explode into pinwheels of light. The children shrieked, at first in fear than in delight as the show continued, and Efrain handed the pin back to its owner. She looked at the pin in what seemed like awe, checking it over for any alteration.
“The pin is intact,” Efrain said, “like I said - inspiration. I had no need to change it.”
The mentor was by his side, clapping at the show.
“I say, marvellously, marvellously done,” he said, “a finer display of magic I’ve never seen. You truly are a master.”
“If that passes for a ‘fine display’, mentor, you are easy to please,” Efrain chuckled, “now, I suggest we leave the poor professor to his work.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” the Mentor said, “after all, you’ve just ruined the integrity of the text he taught from! Students, you are dismissed from your studies for the day. Emilio, take a break for tonight, me and master Efrain have some discussions to have.”
It crossed Efrain’s mind that he might’ve just signed up for some extensive work in the near future. This however, was his academic integrity, and he wasn’t about to let those notes be his legacy, if he was going to have one. They took up the conversation in the hallway, leaving the students filing out behind them.
“That was simply incredible,” the mentor said, “I’m shocked that you were able to do it off the cuff. Just like that.”
“It was nothing,” Efrain said, “and that’s not self-praise, mentor. If you’re not able to do simple illusions of light like, then ‘my’ books have led you astray.”
Efrain stopped to look out through a window, seeing the central pyramid and its rooftop garden. “Though that’s not entirely fair to Nicolo and Armsted. I’ve been travelling and studying for nigh-on two centuries since I left. I’ve learned much more than what they were left to work with.”
When Efrain turned back to the man, he found that he was bowing low.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh please, master Efrain,” said the man, “please, led us back to greatness.”
“You are truly, the most knowledgeable, the most revered, the most brilliant-”
“Stop that,” Efrain said, “I left my patience for flattery about a half-thousand miles west. Say what you mean, plainly.”
He tried to tell himself that was the truth, but he couldn’t deny it made his chest swell to hear such things, especially after so long on his own.
“We need you,” said the man, astonishing Efrain as he wiped tears from his eyes, “we are but children, stumbling around-”
“Do you do this with every guest?” Efrain said, trying to tamp down on the delight he felt.
“What? N-no. Be the mentor! I will gladly renounce it, if you are there to take the place. Lead our school, master Efrain!”
Efrain held his face as he considered what the man had just said.
“No,” he said, quashing the image of mentor Efrain squarely and firmly right there.
“B-but why?” the mentor blubbered, “anything you want, I’ll give it to you, anything! Name it and-”
“But I will rewrite those gods-damned books you have. Fill them with my current knowledge, which is far superior than that poetic dreck that I made back in the day,” Efrain said, “I would not be able to live with myself, if I left you with that swill.”
“Oh thank you! Thank you!” said the mentor, clasping his hands.
“Now, let’s get back to my office,” Efrain said, “I’m finding myself quite tired of this whole affair.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said the man, straightening himself and gesturing the way.
“Tell me,” Efrain said, “your begging seems to indicate that the academy’s future is dire.”
“Oh, it’s bad,” sighed the man heavily, “we simply haven’t been able to produce things that are of much use. It is our shame, and as such, we’ve moved much of the studies to other, more practical subjects. Maths, history - magic is quickly becoming a pure pursuit of knowledge. The Eisen matriarch seems not to mind, but Poutash, and many of the established houses, well…”
Efrain nodded as he climbed the main stairs, shuffling by students. He tried to ignore the irrational guilt that plagued him. He’d just managed to put a lid on it as they reached the office, where within he sank into the chair. The mentor stood nervously by the door, almost like an attending student, not the director of a school. Efrain wondered how he got the position in the first place.
“Well, that was enlightening,” Efrain said, “I’ll retire now, I think.”
“Of course,” said Avencia, “yes, we shall leave you to it. I will have dinner sent up.”
“No need, we had some in the city,” Efrain said, “I don’t eat all that much anyways. Tell me, are there any particular teas you’d recommend? Local speciality or imported, I don’t care.”
The man thought for a few moments.
“I would have to ask someone else, but I will send up a set as soon as possible,” he said.
“Oh, and the books,” Efrain said, reclining back on the chair and looking out the window.
“Which books?” said the man excitedly.
“All of them. Any of them that bear my name,” Efrain said, “In fact, just send me all your core texts for magic. If I need any sort of historical references, I’ll make up a list while I’m reading them.”
The man practically stumbled over himself, thanking Efrain profusely and indicating that the entire curriculum would be sent up, as well as paper and ink. When the door shut, the quiet seemed almost unnatural to Efrain after the busy day he’d had. He picked up a book from the shelf, some piece of Karkosian history from a man he’d never heard of.
He sat back down in the chair, and curiously, he found his eyesight beginning to swim as he tried to parse the page. His body felt… heavy, exhausted even. He tried to resist it, tried to fight it as the book fell open on his lap, but his vision darkened, and soon Efrain had drifted off to sleep. [←Chapter 62] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 64→]
If I were being truthful — and if there wasn’t a risk of others being hurt — I’d tell you that I think about you day and night.
Sometimes, I imagine us in a conversation together. It would be at a coffee shop. Somewhere easy and public and free of expectations and pressure.
We’d begin where we left off — you’d tell me about your new family, I’d tell you about mine. We’d keep the conversation light, a waltz of stories polished up for one another. You’d wonder what I was thinking. I’d marvel again at the beard you now like to wear.
You’d begin to tell me all about your travels and what it’s like being a new dad. You’d tell me about that one time you visited a faraway place, you’d tell me you loved it and were sometimes lonely, though never for long with her by your side.
I’d nod. I’d listen. I’d smile and pretend I was perfectly all right hearing about how well you’re doing, even though it’s all I ever wished for you.
And I’d tell you about my life, my job, the way I pour my soul into every workday. I’d rant about the everyday things but then crack a joke about how privileged we all really are. I tell you I miss my dad but that I’m doing better now.
You’d smile. You’d laugh. I’d selfishly hope you feel a small bit of yearning that I’m doing well with him now.
We’d leave things unsaid. Because that’s how we always have been.
Always in between.
After we say goodbye, after we’d give each other a light hug and walk away from each other, I’d think about the time you once said you were glad to say I was yours, if only for a little while. And about that time you said you’d wish you could give me all the happiness in the world, and how you said it was cheesy, but that I loved it anyway. I loved you anyway.
And now here we are in reality.
In silence. With you reaching out to see if I’m okay, now years later. And me never responding.
I hope you still love me and my selfish heart anyway.
With all this info in recent chapter about Imu, the world government and even celestial dragons, like everyone else, I've been thinking how did they come to power. What we know was that there was this great ancient kingdom with the three ancient weapons, devil fruits, haki most likely technology that isn't even seen in the modern one piece world and yet they were defeated by all these smaller islands. The rulers of those islands took an oath and all gave up power except for Albasta and now we know Imu who took the spot of ruler of the world. Now we don't know if the other celestial dragons or just the 5 elder stars know of Imu.
But now I have some questions to poke at this history. The first we hear of joy boy is an apology he makes that he couldn't bring the fishman to land. if they were this super powered advanced island why wouldn't they be able to? why if these small islands able to come together from out of nowhere and defeat this super power country and why would a person named joy boy trying to save the fishman be oppressive of these islands?
So now for more a theory, what if this great island wasn't a collective whole but a whole bunch of pirates on their own. they all had different goals and asspirations and fought each other and these individual islands. the world was mostly how it is now the upper class bought fishman and maybe even giants. Then one day a new pirate comes along, joy boy who like Luffy makes a huge impression on everyone he meets befriends and promises freedom for the fishman and giants befriends Lili the queen of Alabasta and is his iniside person on these islands working together. The fishman pray to the sun god nika and to be like him and save the fishman joy boy starts to develop traits like him and eventually gains powers like him, thus devil fruits. He teaches others how to do this and eventually more and more pirates gain these powers and real revolution is afoot. But then all the islands' rulers and upper class join forces to defeat the pirates. One of them is the strongest of them all, Imu who planned not only to defeat the pirates but wipe out any future rebellion or desire for one in the first place. Thus he developed and ate the void void fruit which allows him to wipe things from memory and could even wipe away the desire for rebellion like joy boy or swallowed him. Then would wipe out all of this from history and rewrite it into something new and more exciting. the ancient kingdom in question would look like a smile and after the inventions from that times vegapunk making the ancient weapons and other weapons used to help made it so that the fishman could live on land safely.
And he would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't that stupid Lili, and her stupid ponoglyphs. She hides them all over including one of the most important ones at god's valley itself. most likely the secret home of the celestrial dragons. why would Roger want to fight Xebeck with the marines accept if there was a secret ponoglyph there. hidden right where no one would ever notice. The man marked by flames is in facts Shank's older brother he never knew who was hurt during the incident and is there to protect it from falling into the hands of another pirate.
I would really like to get a render dragon shader that only changes lighting to match the java's optifine dynamic or complementary(kinda like what kronii uses) I don't want to change anything else, help be appreciated as I want to start after years my own world. thx♡
(Ps I spent a ton of time for custom music yesterday, translated to mid then made pack but didn't work lol so now using Spotify local files and i don't wanna do that again so help be appreciated so i can start. Aurora borealis be impossible tho)
Despite being big fantasy reader my whole life, it's taken me until I'm 33 to begin the WoT, I'm currently 2/3rds of the way through Dragon Reborn. Given the series is 30 odd years old, topics I'd like to read discourse about through books will likely only read to spoilers. Reddit (something I've rarely used) seems like a safe place to post the haphazard thoughts I have.
The series initially struck me as a LOTR knockoff, but some further investigation tells me some of the language used was a homage to it - which I respect.
The world building is super rich, the plot is unique, the story moves along at a really good pace, which I was concerned about going in, given that there is 15 books. Most of the characters are likeable, ala Perrin, Egwene, Moiraine, Lan, Elaine, Loial ect. Matt is unlikeable in the exact way he's designed to be.
Personally, I'd enjoy the language being a little more adult eg. "burn me" being cursing. Not a GRR level of almost obsession with being as graphic as possible, but something a little more realistic.
My biggest beef so far is why all the main characters - or at least those from Two Rivers, seem to hate Moiraine and especially Nynaeve, who for a completely illogical (unwise lol) reason, her entire character seems to be completely motivated by getting "revenge" on Moiraine for what, saving her whole village, including the boys from being murdered by fades and trollocs? Honestly it feels like if the Fellowship hated Gandalf - and any chapters with Nynaeve, many with Rand or Perrin, are a tough read because their motivation/fears ect. is suspect at best.
Finally, can someone explain why the battles at the end of each book between Rand and The Dark One end in Dark One being defeated but it not actually meaning anything immediately after? or am I missing something crucial.
Want to leave Dragon Isles for lvl 70, that way I can farm the caverns for better gear. So what would be good, doing rnd dungeons or BFA quests till 70. Or a mix of quests and rnd dungeons, as to not get burned out. Or pick a profession and throw that into the mix as well.
I've got to say, I continue to love what Mr. Wight does with dragons in this series. In two cases of this book, we see cases of positive masculinity with the proud, powerful flare we associate with dragons.
First and least contentious, Orthos. He is the weakest at the start of the book, and Dross even taunts him about this. Instead of rising to what could be seen as an insult, he has presence of mind to simply acknowledge where he stands. His identity is not tied purely to his present power - he might be frustrated, but he has the inner confidence to push forward. He doesn't sulk or shirk his work. In fact, at this point in his life, he's an old man that's protected many and served the Aurelius clan with distinction. He doesn't have the same drive to get stronger and ascend that Lindon does, as we see from his initial remnant struggle. And it's understandable. He faces the risk of losing his mind like he once did. To whatever extent he mentally carries that, it's potentially a huge trauma.
Then, when Lindon starts battling Monarchs, Orthos' passion ignites. He consumes remnants bigger than he is in brutal battles like they're just lunch, going for multiple in a day. Note that this is exactly what Lindon said he would do. I think this parallel is intentional. Orthos doesn't have the same passion to get stronger for the hell of it. But the second Lindon faces true danger, he rises to that same absurd realm of effort. Without much narrative notice, without complaint. Orthos is based as hell and so cool, despite not being the strongest, don't @ me.
Then we have Northstrider. Don't get me wrong. Man's on some mad copium, like all the monarchs. But unlike some of his peers, he listens to reason. He struggles but negotiates, considers, and admits when he's beat. He changes his opinion to adapt new (old) information, even if it pains his pride. Most of us cannot do that, I am being totally serious there. We create echo chambers of people who tell us what he want to hear, myself included although I try to fight that impulse. Northstrider recognizes the wisdom of his past self, and goes for a clean break. That word choice also reads as intentional. The rationalization, the justification, the visceral struggle to quit... he's like a drug addict. And who wouldn't be addicted to being the strongest in the world? But again, he finally faces his fear and ascends, and as the audience can see, he has much more dignity for changing his mind, not less. This moment is also amazing who Lindon who acknowledges him and shows him respect, though Lindon not forgetting where he came from is a whole other post unto itself.
what do you guys recommend I spend my wish on? I’m thinking about getting the megatat but I’m not too sure. There are a lot of really cool dragons too but I don’t really know too much about dragon vale (I know I’ve played for 100 days but I started playing about 3 years ago and only recently started playing again) what do you guys recommend I use my wish on?