MansfromDaVinci t1_j79g980 wrote

This is more that there are pan European funding institutions for reasearch which were quite beneficial for the UK and leaving the EU cut them off. Various pro-leave politicians made promises to match the funding, which nobody in their right mind believed, hey ho. Academics and researchers generally did not vote leave and the ones who could have been quietly leaving the Uk since 2016.


MansfromDaVinci t1_j5j7676 wrote

a tiny percentage might sublime into the air if the air is dry but yeah, almost all of it will just melt into the water supply. And the bit that sublimes falls as rain too eventually, same way almost all the water taken by trees transpires into the air to form clouds and fall as rain, often locally. These people are at it.


MansfromDaVinci t1_j56stau wrote

"Bloodroot and maidenhair, STAT." Lauren'rt cried desperately, his knitted hands pressed over the wound. Already blood was pooling in the symbols carved into the healing tree stump, activating the passive wards to promote healing and strengthen the patient lain atop, but it was like throwing a pail of water at dragonfire.

His halfling assistant, Callalily, handed him the spell components and he instantly started chanting the words of a healing spell. Warmth flowed down his arms and into his glowing hands. At the edges of the gash the flesh started to knit together again and the wound began to close. Lauren'rt let himself release a deep sigh. He glanced at his unconcious patient's near perfect elven features, agelessly beautiful with just the slightest hint of care lines around the closed eyes. The kingdom couldn't afford to lose it's queen.

Suddenly she arched her back and cried out. Something icy cold and evil seemed to writhe under his hands, like a fish from some lightless pool, deep in the depths of the netherworld. The wound reopened impossibly. "It's like it's fighting me." he muttered under his breath, then shouted "We're losing Her! Fetch the healing crystal!" Callalily seemed to teleport across the room to the shelf holding the precious stones and back.

"Link with me and we'll use it as an arcane focus." Lauren'rt cried. They quickly stood themselves on either side of her both holding the faintly effulgent crystal above her chest. "Chant Ambrosius's allcure with me on one. Three, two, one." They chanted the words of the spell together. Lauren'rt watched the colour return to the queen's pale skin as the light in the healing crystal dimmed and faded. When they said the final words it finally went out and the crystal crumbled into sparkling dust which Lauren'rt blew away while still in the air.

"That should do it." said Lauren'rt, feeling the fresh scar on the Queen's side: the unnatural cold was gone, but there was still something evil present; if sleeping for now.

"You almost lost Her." a harsh voice from across the room said "We should have known better than to trust Her to a human and his halfling pet, no matter your reputation." Lauren'rt hadn't even noticed the Prince-Consort until now, he stood resplendent in ornate golden armour, flanked by captain generals of his faction. "A simple wound like this would barely trouble a village crone amongst our people. If the Queen didn't favour you I'd have you in irons for incompetence"

"The assassin's knife was poisoned, Lord, with wyvern venon and an orphan's bitter thoughts, so we drove the posion into a spotless milk white billy goat and cut it's throat; then the wound became infected with the red rot, so we burned a statue of the Witch Goddess Heca carved of pearwood from the dark orchards of Dis and made her drink the ashes mixed with a widow's tears; now the wound has mysteriously reopened and a curse tried to keep it open. This is no ordinary healing, someone is trying to thwart me, someone close."

The Prince-Constort, still flanked by his captains, stalked up until he could put his flawless face right into Lauren'rt's "I don't want to hear your excuses" he snarled through bared teeth "Or your baseless conspiracy theories." he grabbed Lauren'rt's collar with one hand thrust an outstretched finger into his face "If she dies, so do you and the half-pint." He spat, then turned and strode out. Lauren'rt waited until he was gone then daintily wiped his face with an embroidered handkerchief.

"Half-Pint? Half-pint!" said Callalily nearly vibrating with anger "I could drink a flagon to his flute and still walk away leaving his-pointy-earship to sleep it off under the table."

"His rudeness, though all-encompasing, is the least of his sins" said Lauren'rt "His hands smelt of doll's eyes."

"Doll's eyes?" asked Callalily, confused

"Have I really taught you nothing in all this time? Yes doll's eyes." Lauren'rt stared at her.

"Uh, uh. I can't think.. What do doll's eyes even smell like?"

Lauren'rt walked over to a table piled with ingredients and components and picked up a sprig of berries.

"hmm?" he smiled at Callalily

"Oh! Doll's eyes!" She claped her hands delightedly "A type of baneberry. Deadly poisonous, even a few stop the heart. But it can be used in spells to cure rheumatism and heart failure and... oh yes.. and in adaptive curses." she looked at him wide-eyed "but for those to work the caster has to reinforce them each day by touching the victim on the lips."


"And I thought it was sweet he kissed her every day! What an utter scuzzbucket!"

"The other problem with adaptive curses is, of course, that with a little ingenuity they can be made to rebound on the caster. All we'd need is some doll's eyes of our own, a brass mirror, some gravemould, dead man's fingers, a personal object of the curser as a focus and something of them, nail clippings, a lock of hair, blood, spit."

"How are we going to get all that?" asked Callalily "the berries, the fungus and the mirror I can get down the market if we've none in stock but a personal object and some toenail clippings or blood, we can't very well ask him for it, and he'll be on his guard."

"You'd have thought so." said Lauren'rt and he took out the embroidered handkerchief.

"That's not yours."

"It must have floated from his sleeve into my pocket while he was engaged in threatening me, face to face; rather damply I might add."

"Reversing a curse, it's dark magic ain't it? Pretty much necromancy."

"Yes. I don't care. Do you?"


"Then let's crack on. Or do you think we should inform the Prince-Consort that we've discovered the root cause of the Queen's problems and have a solution at hand first?"

"Oh I'm sure he'll find that out soon enough. Half-pint. 'Swhat you get."

"And if he should get sick he can always find a village crone to heal him."


MansfromDaVinci t1_j288z40 wrote

Rothko's get hung upside down at exhibitions rather often. A mondrian has been hanging upside down for 77 years. In a deeper sense modern art was adopted by Rockefeller and his cronies wholesale after Diego Riveria painted a mural that offended him on his building, the philistine had it smashed. Modern art was seen as vacous and inoffense 'free enterprise painting' which could be a commodity and status symbol without any inconvenient symbolism or meaning. It has since been heavily backed by the establishment, though deeply unpopular with the wider public. The CIA at the least destroyed the careers of critics and art lecturers to promote it.