Yes, of course rve heard what the superstitious locals say: "Stay out of the mountains! There's no shelter on those harsh peaks, and every last combe and glen is infested with killer spiders!". They say there's no way to safely cross that mountain range anyone trying to rest high up on the peaks will die of exposure, lashed by cruel icy winds. Better that, though, than to risk seeking shelter in the forested vales The Crawling Death, they call t.Great glossy black eight-legged fiends some small enough to creep between the rings of your maille, some large as a splayed hand and quick as a cat, and some so they say the size of dogs. Or swine. Or cart-horses. The tales have been exaggerated in the telling, of course, since hardly anyone dares venture far into the gullies and ravines that lace between the majestic peaks (most certainly not at night, when the Crawling Death make their appearance, silent as a shadow). Even if they're not quite as large as people say, they're certainly no less deadly. The king's physicians, who had the unenviable task of tending to the survivors of the last failed expedition, wrote down in stomach- turning detail the precise symptoms of that merciless venom. Erupting blisters the size of a hen's egg. Flesh blackening, rotting, and sloughing away from the bone. Sweating, drooling, trembling, nausea, vomiting ranting and raving and spasming like a creature possessed until death seems like a mercy. Others were gripped with a pain unmatched by any wound of war, paired (curiousy) with an erection hard as any standing stone And yet, in spite of all this, m planning an expedition into the mountains It's true, I haven't the equipment with me to safely shelter from the bitter cold above the tree-line, out of the reach of skittering legs and poison- slick fangs. I have no blessing from the gods, and no miracle of alchemy intended to keep the Crawling Death at bay. What I do have, though, is a map. A map from a past age, a more enlightened age, where the cartographers had a decent understanding of the sciences, rather than the encyclopaedic knowledge of rumour and superstition that seems to be the requirement for a mapmaker these days. And from this map and the journals that I found with it - I have deduced one particularly salient fact, that I am convinced will allow me to make the journey through the supposedly arachnid-infested ravines in perfect safety The superstitious peasants might say every last one of those valleys is crawling with deadly poisonous creatures, but in fact, most of them are utterly empty and safe! However, my map has revealed the source of this rumour: Spiders Gorge, which contains over ten thousand spiders is an outlier adn should not have been counted

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N funnytwittertweets CUBOSH @cubosh realization: the asteroid that ended the dinosaurs was technically the highest ratio of killing birds to one stone in earths history 3:06 AM - 2021-07-12 - Twitter for Android 5,348 Retweets 106 Quote Tweets 27.2K Likes luckyladylily Follow The 2 birds per stone factoid is actually a statistical error. Astroid Georg, who fell from the sky and killed 38 billion birds, is an outlier and should never have been counted. chongoblog Meteorg Follow

Tumblr- <a href="http://bogleech.tumblr.com/post/139511360123/swarnpert-noctstiel-squarekun">bogleech</a>

a slight calculative error was made
anus georg
are you implying there’s a human named anus georg who posesses 7 billion buttholes
final boss
why does this happen
I don’t think anus georg would be recognizably human

Tumblr- <a href="http://genalovestoons.tumblr.com/post/113839821072/tora-streamed-cool-world-recently-and-we-all-kept">genalovestoons</a>

His real name is Nails, and now I wish that Cool World was just a movie about him solving murders in a gritty toon town.

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Yes, of course rve heard what the superstitious locals say: "Stay out of the mountains! There's no shelter on those harsh peaks, and every last combe and glen is infested with killer spiders!". They say there's no way to safely cross that mountain range anyone trying to rest high up on the peaks will die of exposure, lashed by cruel icy winds. Better that, though, than to risk seeking shelter in the forested vales The Crawling Death, they call t.Great glossy black eight-legged fiends some small enough to creep between the rings of your maille, some large as a splayed hand and quick as a cat, and some so they say the size of dogs. Or swine. Or cart-horses. The tales have been exaggerated in the telling, of course, since hardly anyone dares venture far into the gullies and ravines that lace between the majestic peaks (most certainly not at night, when the Crawling Death make their appearance, silent as a shadow). Even if they're not quite as large as people say, they're certainly no less deadly. The king's physicians, who had the unenviable task of tending to the survivors of the last failed expedition, wrote down in stomach- turning detail the precise symptoms of that merciless venom. Erupting blisters the size of a hen's egg. Flesh blackening, rotting, and sloughing away from the bone. Sweating, drooling, trembling, nausea, vomiting ranting and raving and spasming like a creature possessed until death seems like a mercy. Others were gripped with a pain unmatched by any wound of war, paired (curiousy) with an erection hard as any standing stone And yet, in spite of all this, m planning an expedition into the mountains It's true, I haven't the equipment with me to safely shelter from the bitter cold above the tree-line, out of the reach of skittering legs and poison- slick fangs. I have no blessing from the gods, and no miracle of alchemy intended to keep the Crawling Death at bay. What I do have, though, is a map. A map from a past age, a more enlightened age, where the cartographers had a decent understanding of the sciences, rather than the encyclopaedic knowledge of rumour and superstition that seems to be the requirement for a mapmaker these days. And from this map and the journals that I found with it - I have deduced one particularly salient fact, that I am convinced will allow me to make the journey through the supposedly arachnid-infested ravines in perfect safety The superstitious peasants might say every last one of those valleys is crawling with deadly poisonous creatures, but in fact, most of them are utterly empty and safe! However, my map has revealed the source of this rumour: Spiders Gorge, which contains over ten thousand spiders is an outlier adn should not have been counted

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