记一下随便记一下。
#1208903
>>Po.1186202
aloth背景是aedyr-gentry，和车卡页面的aedyr-aristocrat不一样的。
几版汉化都没去区分…不是简单翻成贵族就清楚的啊啊啊……
aloth背景是aedyr-gentry，和车卡页面的aedyr-aristocrat不一样的。
几版汉化都没去区分…不是简单翻成贵族就清楚的啊啊啊……
#1208914
>>Po.1202894
结局才是高潮啊，毁完轮子之后剧情就要真正精彩了，结果没了完了直接后日谈ppt了，故事没讲完啊啊啊黑曜石！！！吊人胃口还不填坑！
柱子二缺点就在这个完成度了淦。
结局才是高潮啊，毁完轮子之后剧情就要真正精彩了，结果没了完了直接后日谈ppt了，故事没讲完啊啊啊黑曜石！！！吊人胃口还不填坑！
柱子二缺点就在这个完成度了淦。
#1208936
aloth出场戴兜帽的细节其实暗示了其灰钥成员身份（尤其是watcher用以形容之前遭遇的人的特征也是兜帽），但是这一点很隐晦，难以察觉。
#1209031
>>Po.1208550
结合一下聚鹿的娥狄卡崇拜，更是如此。
被watcher劝接手灰钥的aloth甚至在poe1结局劝watcher进献娥狄卡……
结合一下聚鹿的娥狄卡崇拜，更是如此。
被watcher劝接手灰钥的aloth甚至在poe1结局劝watcher进献娥狄卡……
#1209038
>>Po.1202886
>>Po.1209031
avowed对应oath，娥狄卡既然有戏份那么如果时间线允许能不能让灰钥，aloth，watcher出来打个酱油？
虽说poe2连轮子都毁了，现在还谈娥狄卡真的算无聊了。
唉，主线也不知道什么质量。
>>Po.1209031
avowed对应oath，娥狄卡既然有戏份那么如果时间线允许能不能让灰钥，aloth，watcher出来打个酱油？
虽说poe2连轮子都毁了，现在还谈娥狄卡真的算无聊了。
唉，主线也不知道什么质量。
#1209059
>>Po.1208551
草了，原来iselmyr这句是对aloth的下三路羞辱，一周目时kana在队还误会了
草了，原来iselmyr这句是对aloth的下三路羞辱，一周目时kana在队还误会了
#1209912
#1209926
Calm lived in the familiar contours of routine. It inhabited the splash
of cool water from the basin on his bedside table and the soft kiss of the
towel as he dried his face with one, two, three gentle pats.
He’d spent years cultivating his habits, and they served him well
enough. But he’d felt her stir more of late. It had gotten so bad that he’d
stopped retuning home to the Cythwood during festival weeks for fear
that his father’s drunken rages and constant prodding would bring her
out in a way he couldn’t hide. >>Po.1209912
of cool water from the basin on his bedside table and the soft kiss of the
towel as he dried his face with one, two, three gentle pats.
He’d spent years cultivating his habits, and they served him well
enough. But he’d felt her stir more of late. It had gotten so bad that he’d
stopped retuning home to the Cythwood during festival weeks for fear
that his father’s drunken rages and constant prodding would bring her
out in a way he couldn’t hide. >>Po.1209912
#1209927
The mounting panic was a bittersweet reminder that his mind and
fears were still his. That the trees closing around him and the heavy air
clogging his lungs were part of another routine, and he could probably
hold himself together just long enough to see it through.
At last he reached the corpsefruit trees. He’d never encountered a
dead body—before embalming, anyway—but he always imagined that
they got to smelling like corpsefruit after a couple of days.
The eponymous fruits were already a week past ripe, and the boughs
of the trees drooped beneath the weight of the purple, fist-shaped
lumps. In the afternoon light, the veins showed through the crimson
leaves, making them look like ragged flaps of flesh.
Unpleasant as they were, they kept people away from the cottage.
It was a small building with a thatched roof stained and scabbed by
the trees’ gory sap. The windows had been boarded up by a previous
owner, and while the place got as hot and sticky as the inside of a toffee
bun, it was nearly soundproof.
Aloth shoved through the door and barred it behind him. He lit a
candle with shaking hands and inspected all of his usual signs—the
rattan mat on the threshold with its corner folded up, the three-legged
table with its particular tableau of abandoned cookware, the ever
thicker layer of dust in the cupboard.
Everything was just as he’d left it.
fears were still his. That the trees closing around him and the heavy air
clogging his lungs were part of another routine, and he could probably
hold himself together just long enough to see it through.
At last he reached the corpsefruit trees. He’d never encountered a
dead body—before embalming, anyway—but he always imagined that
they got to smelling like corpsefruit after a couple of days.
The eponymous fruits were already a week past ripe, and the boughs
of the trees drooped beneath the weight of the purple, fist-shaped
lumps. In the afternoon light, the veins showed through the crimson
leaves, making them look like ragged flaps of flesh.
Unpleasant as they were, they kept people away from the cottage.
It was a small building with a thatched roof stained and scabbed by
the trees’ gory sap. The windows had been boarded up by a previous
owner, and while the place got as hot and sticky as the inside of a toffee
bun, it was nearly soundproof.
Aloth shoved through the door and barred it behind him. He lit a
candle with shaking hands and inspected all of his usual signs—the
rattan mat on the threshold with its corner folded up, the three-legged
table with its particular tableau of abandoned cookware, the ever
thicker layer of dust in the cupboard.
Everything was just as he’d left it.
#1209928
He noticed the pain in his head first. It began as a growing pressure
accompanied by sudden stabs that always felt like something trying to
cut its way out of him. The pain spread along his arms, torso, and legs,
building and sharpening until he thought he might burst.
He wasn’t aware of screaming, but by the time the pain faded to a
dull throb, his throat was raw.
He had never figured out whether this was an inevitable part of her
emergence or whether she did this to spite him.
Her laughter jangled like a set of rusty keys in his aching skull.
An’ here I thought Ma was working her tongue with that thayn.
“She did what she could,” Aloth panted, too drained to argue.
Aye, but ye ever puzzle on where she’s applyin’ it?
On a different day, he might have conceded that Iselmyr, illiterate
harridan that she was, nevertheless had a certain wit. Yet all he could
think about was his own foolishness in letting other connections to
possible patronages wither while he’d focused on this one prospect.
Get hold o’ yerself, scholar-lad. Always warm ale and a cold bed for ye
back home in Cythwood.
“No. Never.” He’d sooner turn to mucking stables at the academy
accompanied by sudden stabs that always felt like something trying to
cut its way out of him. The pain spread along his arms, torso, and legs,
building and sharpening until he thought he might burst.
He wasn’t aware of screaming, but by the time the pain faded to a
dull throb, his throat was raw.
He had never figured out whether this was an inevitable part of her
emergence or whether she did this to spite him.
Her laughter jangled like a set of rusty keys in his aching skull.
An’ here I thought Ma was working her tongue with that thayn.
“She did what she could,” Aloth panted, too drained to argue.
Aye, but ye ever puzzle on where she’s applyin’ it?
On a different day, he might have conceded that Iselmyr, illiterate
harridan that she was, nevertheless had a certain wit. Yet all he could
think about was his own foolishness in letting other connections to
possible patronages wither while he’d focused on this one prospect.
Get hold o’ yerself, scholar-lad. Always warm ale and a cold bed for ye
back home in Cythwood.
“No. Never.” He’d sooner turn to mucking stables at the academy
#1209929
“Poisonous curses and burning hexes won’t count for much in a
healer’s den or a charm-weaver’s shop.”
Cheer! Ye can always try ‘em on your auld man.
She had her moments of brilliance.
Of course, there were other lords, erls, and thayns, many of whom
employed arcane knights in their personal guard. But they tended
to offer patronages to the children of their retainers, confederates,
and tenants.
As his father’s employer, the Erl of Cythwood, had done.
His mother’s thayn had been his best option. But he wasn’t hiring, or
so she’d written. Then again, there was another possibility.
Iselmyr noted it, too.
Coxfither. Ass-nibbling mite of a man. Ye think—
“The erl used his not-inconsiderable influence to deter other would
be patrons? Perhaps.”
Ye’re scuppered, lad.
Something cold filled those raw, empty places where the pain had
been. It didn’t feel good, but at least it was his.
healer’s den or a charm-weaver’s shop.”
Cheer! Ye can always try ‘em on your auld man.
She had her moments of brilliance.
Of course, there were other lords, erls, and thayns, many of whom
employed arcane knights in their personal guard. But they tended
to offer patronages to the children of their retainers, confederates,
and tenants.
As his father’s employer, the Erl of Cythwood, had done.
His mother’s thayn had been his best option. But he wasn’t hiring, or
so she’d written. Then again, there was another possibility.
Iselmyr noted it, too.
Coxfither. Ass-nibbling mite of a man. Ye think—
“The erl used his not-inconsiderable influence to deter other would
be patrons? Perhaps.”
Ye’re scuppered, lad.
Something cold filled those raw, empty places where the pain had
been. It didn’t feel good, but at least it was his.
#1209931
It wasn’t really a question. It was experimental and illegal, so
everyone was familiar with it. Nefarious, soul-twisting scientists
(invariably sly Vailians or buck-toothed Dyrwoodans) appeared in
opera houses across the country. Sensationalist accounts of expeditions
in the Eastern Reach nearly always featured some mad animancer’s
hall of horrors—men and women clawing off their own skin, infused
with the souls of beasts, or rotting corpses fed with the spirit essence
of children. Even the normally reserved clergy of Berath had begun
sermonizing on the evils of soul-science and the natural order of death
and rebirth according to the Wheel.
It was dangerous. It was illegal. But he’d seen them stealing
equipment, and he’d made an alliance with them anyway. What right
did he have to complain now?
Esmey waved a hand. “It’s a science like any other. Only, instead of
studying the body’s humors or the patterns of the seasons, we study the
condition of the soul.”
It sounded reasonable enough.
“And there’s a demand for this kind of thing, yes?” Aloth asked.
“All over. Our patrons want to know which lord’s son is the best
match for their daughter. Whether to pass the family business to the eldest child or the youngest. How to cure infirmities that run deeper
than blood.”
Like Awakened souls from a past life. Like Iselmyr.
His mouth went dry. “What kind of infirmities?” He tried to keep
his words even and measured despite his tongue cleaving to the roof of
his mouth.
Iselmyr’s voice sounded like a warning bell. Don’t be foolish, lad.
everyone was familiar with it. Nefarious, soul-twisting scientists
(invariably sly Vailians or buck-toothed Dyrwoodans) appeared in
opera houses across the country. Sensationalist accounts of expeditions
in the Eastern Reach nearly always featured some mad animancer’s
hall of horrors—men and women clawing off their own skin, infused
with the souls of beasts, or rotting corpses fed with the spirit essence
of children. Even the normally reserved clergy of Berath had begun
sermonizing on the evils of soul-science and the natural order of death
and rebirth according to the Wheel.
It was dangerous. It was illegal. But he’d seen them stealing
equipment, and he’d made an alliance with them anyway. What right
did he have to complain now?
Esmey waved a hand. “It’s a science like any other. Only, instead of
studying the body’s humors or the patterns of the seasons, we study the
condition of the soul.”
It sounded reasonable enough.
“And there’s a demand for this kind of thing, yes?” Aloth asked.
“All over. Our patrons want to know which lord’s son is the best
match for their daughter. Whether to pass the family business to the eldest child or the youngest. How to cure infirmities that run deeper
than blood.”
Like Awakened souls from a past life. Like Iselmyr.
His mouth went dry. “What kind of infirmities?” He tried to keep
his words even and measured despite his tongue cleaving to the roof of
his mouth.
Iselmyr’s voice sounded like a warning bell. Don’t be foolish, lad.
#1209932
Aloth felt cold all over. In Aedyran society, people shunned the
Awakened the same way they did criminals and madmen. If that
machine worked the way the spellwrights thought it would, if they
found Iselmyr, he’d lose more than his patronage.
“What’s that, Corfiser? I could have sworn I heard you say something.”
Targun had appeared next to Esmey and was looking at him with a big,
toothy grin.
Awakened the same way they did criminals and madmen. If that
machine worked the way the spellwrights thought it would, if they
found Iselmyr, he’d lose more than his patronage.
“What’s that, Corfiser? I could have sworn I heard you say something.”
Targun had appeared next to Esmey and was looking at him with a big,
toothy grin.
#1209933
Enow o’ this. Ye’re workin’ yerself into a boil over mayhaps and
could-bes.
He crossed his arms as he pushed through the thick undergrowth
and back to the road. “I can’t go back. They’ll find me out.”
Aye, and ye think disappearin’ won’t raise any eyebrows? Grit yer
teeth and finish what ye started.
“What you started. They have a machine, Iselmyr! A machine that—”
That mayhap works and mayhap don’t! And if’n they pick ye come
testin’ time, ye can tell ‘em to get scuppered. But nice-like.
“And that won’t raise eyebrows.”
It shakes like this, lad—ye stick around, and mayhap they sniff us out.
But ye quit now and go back to yer auld man, and we’ll come out for sure.
For once, she was right.
could-bes.
He crossed his arms as he pushed through the thick undergrowth
and back to the road. “I can’t go back. They’ll find me out.”
Aye, and ye think disappearin’ won’t raise any eyebrows? Grit yer
teeth and finish what ye started.
“What you started. They have a machine, Iselmyr! A machine that—”
That mayhap works and mayhap don’t! And if’n they pick ye come
testin’ time, ye can tell ‘em to get scuppered. But nice-like.
“And that won’t raise eyebrows.”
It shakes like this, lad—ye stick around, and mayhap they sniff us out.
But ye quit now and go back to yer auld man, and we’ll come out for sure.
For once, she was right.
#1209935
The walk back felt interminable. He was alone again, and faintly
hoped for some jungle cat to leap from the trees and swallow him in
punishment for what he’d done.
But no, the real punishment was living with this.
He was halfway back to the academy before Iselmyr piped up.
Ye’ve got to screw yer head on straight, lad.
“But I’m responsible for what happened back there! I—” He couldn’t
bring himself to put a name to what he’d done. He wasn’t even certain
what it was.
She shushed him.
Ye cannae know that. All ye did was twiddle a few bits. Like as not, the
thing was bust already.
“And I’m the reason he got into it.”
Aye, an’ he were the one tryin’ to force ye into it first.
His face felt cold. Wet. “That can’t—”
Ye survived, lad. No shame in that.
He knew she was right, but that didn’t make it feel any better.
Jes’ breathe deep an’ hold tight. The feelin’ll pass, and when we’re
fixed in a patronage far from Cythwood—
“I can’t stay with them.”
No choosin’ t’be done, lad.
But there she was wrong.
hoped for some jungle cat to leap from the trees and swallow him in
punishment for what he’d done.
But no, the real punishment was living with this.
He was halfway back to the academy before Iselmyr piped up.
Ye’ve got to screw yer head on straight, lad.
“But I’m responsible for what happened back there! I—” He couldn’t
bring himself to put a name to what he’d done. He wasn’t even certain
what it was.
She shushed him.
Ye cannae know that. All ye did was twiddle a few bits. Like as not, the
thing was bust already.
“And I’m the reason he got into it.”
Aye, an’ he were the one tryin’ to force ye into it first.
His face felt cold. Wet. “That can’t—”
Ye survived, lad. No shame in that.
He knew she was right, but that didn’t make it feel any better.
Jes’ breathe deep an’ hold tight. The feelin’ll pass, and when we’re
fixed in a patronage far from Cythwood—
“I can’t stay with them.”
No choosin’ t’be done, lad.
But there she was wrong.
#1209936
She could feel his mind changing as surely as he could feel her
growing uneasy.
Gie it a few days. Ye don’t know what ye’re thinkin’.
But he did, and he wanted to go through with it while he still felt
brave and reckless.
Ye’ll lose any chance o’ this patronage. Ye’ll be lucky to keep the one ye
got back home.
She was right, of course. But a prison cell would’ve felt freer than
the guilt he was trapped in right then.
He walked faster before he could change his mind.
growing uneasy.
Gie it a few days. Ye don’t know what ye’re thinkin’.
But he did, and he wanted to go through with it while he still felt
brave and reckless.
Ye’ll lose any chance o’ this patronage. Ye’ll be lucky to keep the one ye
got back home.
She was right, of course. But a prison cell would’ve felt freer than
the guilt he was trapped in right then.
He walked faster before he could change his mind.
#1209937
Ye’ve gone mad, boy!
“I’ve been talking to a woman in my head for years.”
They’ll lock ye up with the rest o’ them.
“I expect so.”
He took the steps two at a time. He didn’t want to lose his nerve now.
What will ye do? No patron, no prospect, no—
He stopped, whirling on no one in particular. “I don’t know! But I’m
going to do what I should have done in the first place. I’ll have to figure
the rest out from there.”
Iselmyr went quiet. One minute passed. Then two. Aloth was sure
she’d gone, but then he felt her buzzing in his chest.
For once, lad, I think we can agree.
“I’ve been talking to a woman in my head for years.”
They’ll lock ye up with the rest o’ them.
“I expect so.”
He took the steps two at a time. He didn’t want to lose his nerve now.
What will ye do? No patron, no prospect, no—
He stopped, whirling on no one in particular. “I don’t know! But I’m
going to do what I should have done in the first place. I’ll have to figure
the rest out from there.”
Iselmyr went quiet. One minute passed. Then two. Aloth was sure
she’d gone, but then he felt her buzzing in his chest.
For once, lad, I think we can agree.
#1209938
“But the disaster—Targun—”
“Was a damn fool who knew well enough what he was getting
himself into.” Langulf’s brow furrowed. “What matters is catching the
people financing these experiments.”
“You—you’re going to let them continue?”
“For now. You think I care about a few academy novices?”
Aloth licked his lips. That didn’t say much for his own status, either.
Langulf’s hand went to the open book on his desk. “I need someone
who can follow orders without asking too many questions.”
“And I need a patron.”
Langulf’s laugh was the sound of dried leaves underfoot. He adjusted
a chain hanging around his neck, and Aloth caught a glimpse of a
medallion embossed with a key. “You’ll have more than that, I promise.”
“Was a damn fool who knew well enough what he was getting
himself into.” Langulf’s brow furrowed. “What matters is catching the
people financing these experiments.”
“You—you’re going to let them continue?”
“For now. You think I care about a few academy novices?”
Aloth licked his lips. That didn’t say much for his own status, either.
Langulf’s hand went to the open book on his desk. “I need someone
who can follow orders without asking too many questions.”
“And I need a patron.”
Langulf’s laugh was the sound of dried leaves underfoot. He adjusted
a chain hanging around his neck, and Aloth caught a glimpse of a
medallion embossed with a key. “You’ll have more than that, I promise.”
#1209942
所以想想吧，木精灵两三百年的寿命，aloth已经62（poe1）/67（poe2）岁。
Their natural lifespan is typically 200-310 years.
你不能让他将剩余的年月绑架并继续浪费在灰钥社上（无论是歼灭还是接手），尤其在轮子已毁的当下。
Their natural lifespan is typically 200-310 years.
你不能让他将剩余的年月绑架并继续浪费在灰钥社上（无论是歼灭还是接手），尤其在轮子已毁的当下。