Ogra Quotes

In Pokgo, in the forest just outside the city limits, was a high tower built into the trunk of a massive tree, the only place where a person could broadcast off-planet. On the journey, I pestered Lusha’s assistant for information about why that was possible, why at that location and nowhere else, and all he knew was that there was a “soft spot” in Ogra’s atmosphere there. “That a scientific term?” I asked. “‘Soft spot’?” “Obviously not,” the man retorted. “Do I look like an atmospheric scientist to you?” “You look like a person with a brain who lives on this planet,” I said. “How is it you aren’t curious?” He didn’t have an answer to that.

Cyra.” Teka raised an eyebrow at me outside the ship’s little bathroom when I got up for my shift. I was dressed only in underwear and my sweater from the day before. I avoided her eyes as I searched the ship’s storage room for a spare mechanic’s uniform. We were all running out of clothes. Hopefully they would provide for us on Ogra. Teka cleared her throat. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded, a plain black eye patch covering her missing eye. “I don’t have to worry about little Kereseth-Noavek spawn running around someday, do I?” She yawned. “Because I really don’t want to.

Cyra.” Teka raised an eyebrow at me outside the ship’s little bathroom when I got up for my shift. I was dressed only in underwear and my sweater from the day before. I avoided her eyes as I searched the ship’s storage room for a spare mechanic’s uniform. We were all running out of clothes. Hopefully they would provide for us on Ogra. Teka cleared her throat. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded, a plain black eye patch covering her missing eye. “I don’t have to worry about little Kereseth-Noavek spawn running around someday, do I?” She yawned. “Because I really don’t want to.” “No,” I said with a snort. “Like I’d take that risk.” “Never?” She frowned a little. “There’s this thing called ‘contraception,’ you know.” I shook my head. “Nothing is certain.” The little mocking expression she always wore when she was looking at me faded, leaving her serious. “My currentgift,” I explained, holding up a hand to show her the shadows that curled around my knuckles, stinging me, “is an instrument of torture. You think I would risk inflicting that torture on something growing inside me? Even if it’s a very limited risk?” I shook my head. “No.” She nodded. “That’s very decent of you.” I added, “It’s not like…that is the only thing you can do with someone, anyway.” She brought her hands up to her face, groaning. “I did not want any information that specific!” she said, voice muffled. “Then don’t ask probing questions, genius.

Here we go!” Teka shouted, and with only that warning, all the lights in the ship switched off. The engine stopped its whirling and humming. Dark atmosphere struck the nav window like a wave of Pithar rain, and for a few long moments I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything. I wanted to scream. Ogra’s gravity caught us, and it was worse, much worse than feeling nothing. My stomach and my body felt suddenly separate, one floating up and the other pulling hard to the ground. The craft shuddered, metal plates squeaking against their screws, the steps to the nav deck rattling. My teeth clacked together. It was still too dark to see anything, even the currentshadows that twisted around my arms. Next to me, Akos let out a litany of curses under his breath, in three languages. I couldn’t speak.

We should probably start planning this whole assassination thing, if you have less than a week before you’re talking to Isae.” “We?” I raised my eyebrows. “I’m the one who volunteered for this stupid mission, not you.” “You’re obviously going to need my help. For one thing, can you even fly yourself back to Thuvhe?” “I can fly a ship.” “Through Ogra’s atmosphere? I don’t think so.” “Okay,” I said, “so I need a pilot. And a ship.

We should probably start planning this whole assassination thing, if you have less than a week before you’re talking to Isae.” “We?” I raised my eyebrows. “I’m the one who volunteered for this stupid mission, not you.” “You’re obviously going to need my help. For one thing, can you even fly yourself back to Thuvhe?” “I can fly a ship.” “Through Ogra’s atmosphere? I don’t think so.” “Okay,” I said, “so I need a pilot. And a ship.” “And you need to find out where Lazmet is. And get in, unseen. And figure out how you’re going to kill him. And then how you’re going to get out afterward.” She sat up, and popped the flesh of the nut, stripped of its shell, into her mouth. Tucking it into her cheek, she said, “Face it, you need help. And you’re not going to get many volunteers yourself. You may have observed, the exiles aren’t exactly wild about you.” “Oh really,” I said flatly. “I hadn’t noticed.” “Well, they’re stupid that way,” Teka said, flapping her hand at me. “I’ll get you the people you need. They like me.” “Can’t imagine why.” She threw the broken shell at me, hitting me in the cheek. I felt better than I had in a long time.

There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Akos said. “I was wondering when you’d get to the point,” Jorek said. Ara set a plate down in front of Akos. There wasn’t much on it--a roll, probably a little stale by now, some dried meat, some pickled saltfruit. She brushed the crumbs off her fingers and sat down next to her son. “What Jorek means is, we like having you here, but we know you don’t do things without a good reason,” Ara said, flicking the side of her son’s nose to chastise him. “And crossing the galaxy is no small thing.” Jorek rubbed his nose. “Not everyone can wait things out on Ogra. Some of us have to get our hands dirty,” Akos said. “But those who can stay safe, should,” Ara said. Akos shook his head. “I had to get my hands dirty, too. Call it…fate.” “I call it a choice,” Jorek said. “And a dumb one.” “Like leaving your girlfriend--and your mother and brother--without a word of explanation,” Ara said, and she clicked her tongue. “My mother and brother don’t need me to leave word to know where I am. And this is how things are between Cyra and me,” Akos said, defensive. “She plotted for weeks to send me away without telling me about it. How is this different?” “It is not particularly different,” Ara said. “But that doesn’t make it right, either time.” “Don’t scold him, Mom,” Jorek said. “He was basically born scolding himself.

Not everyone can wait things out on Ogra. Some of us have to get our hands dirty,” Akos said. “But those who can stay safe, should,” Ara said. Akos shook his head. “I had to get my hands dirty, too. Call it…fate.” “I call it a choice,” Jorek said. “And a dumb one.

They say anyone who can survive this planet has a right to be here,” Teka said. “It doesn’t look as dangerous as I was expecting,” Cyra said. “Everyone always talks about how hard it is to survive here, but it seems peaceful enough.” “Don’t let it fool you,” Teka said. “Everything here is ready to attack or defend--the plants, the animals, even the planet itself. They can’t eat sun, so they eat each other instead--or you.” “The plants are carnivorous?” Akos said. “From what I know.” She shrugged. “Or they eat the current. Which probably explains why they’ve been able to survive here--if there’s anything Ogra has a lot of, it’s the current.” She smiled, with some mischief. “And as if the constant threat of being devoured wasn’t enough…well, let’s just say he’s not talking about a little Awakening shower when he says ‘storms.’” “Cryptic, aren’t you?” Cyra said, frowning. “Yes!” She grinned. “It’s nice to have the upper hand for once.

The woman whistled louder, and the stones grew brighter. Akos pursed his lips, hiding his face as he tried a whistle of his own. The light in the stones near him went white, with the warmth of sunlight. Was this as close to sunlight as Ogra ever got? He glanced at Cyra. She winced, the currentshadows lively across the back of her neck, but she was smiling at him. “What?” he said. “You’re excited,” she said. “This planet is probably going to kill us, and you love it.” “Well,” he said, feeling defensive, “it’s fascinating, that’s all.” “I know,” she said. “It’s just, I don’t expect other people to love the odd and dangerous things I love.” She draped her arm around his waist, her touch light, so he didn’t feel her weight. He leaned into her, slinging his own arm over her shoulders. Her skin went blank again at his touch. Then he heard it--the low rumble, like the planet itself was growling, and at this point, he wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that it was. “Come along, ice-dwellers,” the Ogran woman sang, her voice ringing. She reached down and stuck her pinkie through something--a metal loop in the dark floor. With a flick of her wrist, a trapdoor pulled up from the ground, scattering dust. Akos spotted narrow stairs that disappeared into nothingness. Well, he thought, time to summon some Shotet mettle.

The woman whistled louder, and the stones grew brighter. Akos pursed his lips, hiding his face as he tried a whistle of his own. The light in the stones near him went white, with the warmth of sunlight. Was this as close to sunlight as Ogra ever got? He glanced at Cyra. She winced, the currentshadows lively across the back of her neck, but she was smiling at him. “What?” he said. “You’re excited,” she said. “This planet is probably going to kill us, and you love it.

The woman whistled louder, and the stones grew brighter. Akos pursed his lips, hiding his face as he tried a whistle of his own. The light in the stones near him went white, with the warmth of sunlight. Was this as close to sunlight as Ogra ever got? He glanced at Cyra. She winced, the currentshadows lively across the back of her neck, but she was smiling at him. “What?” he said. “You’re excited,” she said. “This planet is probably going to kill us, and you love it.” “Well,” he said, feeling defensive, “it’s fascinating, that’s all.” “I know,” she said. “It’s just, I don’t expect other people to love the odd and dangerous things I love.” She draped her arm around his waist, her touch light, so he didn’t feel her weight. He leaned into her, slinging his own arm over her shoulders. Her skin went blank again at his touch.

Miss Noavek,” the woman said, offering your hand. “I am Aza. I sit on our council here.” I glanced at Akos, asking a silent question. He rested his hand on the bare skin where my neck met my shoulder, extinguishing my currentshadows. I knew without trying that I was not capable of controlling my gift right now, as I had learned to in the renegade hideout in Voa. Not in Ogra’s currentgift-enhancing atmosphere, with days of limited sleep behind me. It was taking all the energy I had just to keep it contained, so it wouldn’t explode out of me as it had when we first landed. I took the woman’s hand, and shook it. Akos may not have commanded her attention before, but his ability to extinguish my gift certainly did. In fact, everyone around us looked at him--specifically, at the hand he kept on my skin. “Call me Cyra, please,” I said to Aza. Aza’s gaze was curious, and sharp. When I dropped her hand, Akos dropped his, and my currentshadows returned. His cheeks were bright with color, and it was spreading to his neck. “And you are?” Aza asked him. “Akos Kereseth,” he said, a little too quietly. I wasn’t used to the meek side of him, but now that we weren’t constantly surrounded by the people who had kidnapped him or killed his father or otherwise tormented him--well. Perhaps this was what he was like, under somewhat more normal circumstances.

I look ridiculous,” I said to my reflection. Or, really, I said it to Teka, who stood behind me with her arms folded, sucking a dimple into her cheek. I wore a floor-length jacket with sharp shoulders, buttoned tight across my chest and falling straight to the floor. Every seam was stitched with glowing thread, though, which made me feel more like an Ogran spacecraft than a person. The collar--made entirely of luminous fabric--lit my face from beneath, making my currentshadows especially nightmarish when they flowed across my skin. Which was constantly. What little control I had retained when we first landed on Ogra was gone, as if Akos had taken it with him when he left. “Aza wanted to make sure you looked the part of a sovereign, even if you’re not really one. And now you do,” Teka said. “Besides, everyone here looks ridiculous, so you fit right in.

He’d left Ogra without saying anything to Cyra, knowing it would make her hate him—that was the point. If she hated him, she wouldn’t look for him. She would assume he had gone back to Thuvhe, and leave him be.

Name: Ogras Azh’Rezak Level: 75 Class: [F-Rare] Shadowblade Race: [E] Demon Alignment: [Earth] Port Atwood Manual: [F] Grey World Mudra [14%] Titles: Demon Slayer I, Adventurer, Giantsbane, Disciple of David, Overpowered, Full of Class, Rarified Being, Tower of Eternity – 3rd floor, Betrayer, One Against Many, Butcher, Chosen of Dao, Invasion Breaker, The First Step, Beastmaster Limited Titles: Astral Pond – 20m Dao: Fragment of the Umbra – Early, Seed of Mirage – Middle Companion: [F] Ka’Zur Planeswalker Strength: 272 [Increase: 8%.

Name: Ogras Azh’Rezak Level: 75 Class: [F-Rare] Shadowblade Race: [E] Demon Alignment: [Earth] Port Atwood Manual: [F] Grey World Mudra [14%] Titles: Demon Slayer I, Adventurer, Giantsbane, Disciple of David, Overpowered, Full of Class, Rarified Being, Tower of Eternity – 3rd floor, Betrayer, One Against Many, Butcher, Chosen of Dao, Invasion Breaker, The First Step, Beastmaster Limited Titles: Astral Pond – 20m Dao: Fragment of the Umbra – Early, Seed of Mirage – Middle Companion: [F] Ka’Zur Planeswalker Strength: 272 [Increase: 8%. Efficiency: 100%] Dexterity: 541 [Increase: 23%. Efficiency: 105%] Endurance: 148 [Increase: 8%. Efficiency: 100%] Vitality: 99 [Increase: 8%. Efficiency: 100%] Intelligence: 108 [Increase: 13%. Efficiency: 100%] Wisdom: 69 [Increase: 8%. Efficiency: 100%] Luck: 49 [Increase: 8%. Efficiency: 100%] Free Points: 0 Nexus Coins: [F] 480,687,176

the top names on the Wealth Ladder are down there. Nexus Crystals and precious metals are littering the walls,” Zac said. “We need to save those poor people,” Ogras said with a completely straight face, and Calrin quickly gave his wholehearted support for the plan as well.

Vistos de perto, somos uma gente descuidada e bruta no trato íntimo. Há pessoas preocupadas com os sentimentos dos outros, mas são minoria. No atacado, oferecemos um show coletivo de descaso e grosserias. A regra principal, que parece única, é assim: se eu estiver interessado, apaixonado ou com tesão, corro atrás e me desvelo. Se não estiver, ou se não estiver mais, azar. O outro será ignorado ou destratado. temos por aqui pouca atenção e pouco respeito pelo outro – mesmo por pessoas que dividem seu corpo, seu tempo e seus sentimentos conosco. Achamos que a atenção e o carinho que recebemos são uma espécie de direito natural. Logo, não precisam ser retribuídos. Isso torna as delicadezas supérfluas. A gente não diz coisas que possam atrapalhar nossos planos imediatos. Pegamos o que precisamos e o outro que se vire com os sentimentos dele. Esse modo de agir torna a brutalidade afetiva uma moeda corrente. Se saímos com alguém e não nos apaixonamos, o padrão de tratamento desaba. Antes, um príncipe. Depois, um desaparecido. Ou uma ogra de unhas vermelhas. A gente diz que vai telefonar e não telefona. A gente ignora mensagens diretas nas redes sociais. A gente cancela encontros na última hora. A gente trata mal, enfim. Tem gente que aparece com uma pessoa nova na frente daquela com quem estava até ontem, numa demonstração espantosa de descaso. Se alguém reclama, é mimimi. A coisa só fica séria quando fazem tudo isso com a gente. Então é intolerável. O que estou dizendo é que as pessoas merecem nossa atenção e nosso cuidado mesmo quando não as desejamos mais, ou não estamos apaixonados por elas. Queremos tanto que gostem da gente que não nos importamos em iludir para sermos amados. Depois, quando o afeto dele ou dela não importa mais, nos tornamos francos. Quer dizer, insensíveis e até grosseiros. Sofremos e praticamos todo tipo de desatenção. Na verdade, não estamos acostumados a tratar o outro com o cuidado com que desejamos ser tratados.

I didn’t suffer from a lack of fuel. The currentshadows had been so strong all my life, strong enough to render me incapable of attending a simple dinner party, strong enough to bow my back and force tears from my eyes, strong enough to keep me awake and pacing all through the night. Strong enough to kill, but now I understood why they killed. It wasn’t because they drained the life from a person, but because they overwhelmed it. It was like gravity—we needed it to stay grounded, alive, but if it was too strong, it formed a black hole, from which even light could not escape. Yes, the force of the current was too fierce for one body to contain— Unless that body was mine. My body, battered again and again by soldiers and brothers and enemies, but still working its way upright— My body, a channel for the pure force of current, the hum-buzz of life that brought others to their knees— Life is full of pain, I had told Akos, trying to draw him back from depression. Your capacity for bearing it is greater than you believe. And I had been right. I had had every reason to become closed off, wrapped up tight, pushing everything that resembled life and growth and power as far away from myself as possible. It would have been easier that way, to refuse to let anything in. But I had let Akos in, trusting him when I had forgotten how to trust, and I had let Teka in, too, and maybe one day, Sifa— I would let anyone in who dared draw near. I was like the planet Ogra, which welcomed anyone and anything that could survive life close to it. Not because I deserved pain, and not because I was too strong to feel it, but because I was resilient enough to accept it as an inevitability.

Przed przy­by­ciem czar­nych su­tann mi­łość i czu­łość nie znały ogra­ni­czeń. Uczu­cia mię­dzy ludź­mi były jak słoń­ce, nie miały ostrych kra­wę­dzi ani pro­stych linii. Jed­nak tylko lu­dzie z in­diań­ską krwią ro­zu­mie­li te wiel­kie moż­li­wo­ści mię­dzy dwoma męż­czy­zna­mi lub dwie­ma ko­bie­ta­mi. Odkąd wła­dzę ob­ję­li biali, sy­tu­acja się zmie­ni­ła.

Yes, the force of the current was too fierce for one body to contain-- Unless that body was mine. My body, battered again and again by soldiers and brothers and enemies, but still working its way upright-- My body, a channel for the pure force of current, the hum-buzz of life that brought others to their knees-- Life is full of pain, I had told Akos, trying to draw him back from depression. Your capacity for bearing it is greater than you believe. And I had been right. I had had every reason to become closed off, wrapped up tight, pushing everything that resembled life and growth and power as far away from myself as possible. It would have been easier that way, to refuse to let anything in. But I had let Akos in, trusting him when I had forgotten how to trust, and I had let Teka in, too, and maybe one day, Sifa-- I would let anyone in who dared draw near. I was like the planet Ogra, which welcomed anyone and anything that could survive life close to it.

Tepes, Ogra, and Shotet were on one side of an ongoing debate with Othyr, Thuvhe, and Pitha about the oracles. And the word debate was somewhat ill-chosen, since the environment was, as Teka had put it, “a bit tense.” Bad, in other words.

What do you want, Thuvhe?” “I want a space to brew a painkiller,” he said. “And…access to ingredients.” “Do you also want the moon in a jar?” “Does Ogra have a moon?

How can we talk about where we’re going now, what we’re doing now, if we haven’t talked about who--and what--we are now?” He had a point. Akos had a way of getting to the heart of things--he was, in that way, more of a knife than I was, though I was the sharper-tongued of the two of us. His soft gray eyes focused on mine like there were not over one hundred people crowded around us. Unfortunately, we didn’t possess the gift of focus in equal measure. I couldn’t think in all the chatter. I jerked my head toward the door, and Akos nodded, following me out of the mess hall and into the quiet stone street beyond. Over his shoulder I saw the village, faint dots of light dancing all over it, in all different colors. It looked almost cozy, not something I had thought a place like Ogra could be. “You asked who we are now,” I said, looking up at him. “I think we need to move even further back and ask, are we a ‘we’?” “What do you mean?” he asked, with sudden intensity. “What I mean is,” I said, “are we together, or am I just some kind of…warden again, only it’s fate keeping you prisoner this time, instead of my brother?” “Don’t make it sound simple when it isn’t,” he said. “That’s not fair.” “Fair?” I laughed. “What, in your entire life so far, has made you think anything will be ‘fair’?” I stepped wider, so I felt like I was rooted to the ground, the way I might have if we had been about to spar. “Just tell me--tell me if I’m something you’re choosing, or not. Just tell me.” Just get it over with, I thought, because I already knew the answer. I was ready to hear it--even eager, because I had been bracing myself since our first kiss for this rejection. It was the inevitable by-product of what I was. Monstrous, and bound to destroy whoever was in my path, particularly if they were as kind as Akos.

And we all accept the fates we earn?” he said. “What kind of a question is that? You sound like some kind of Ogran mystic.” She rolled her eyes, which told him how she felt about Ogran mystics. “Or like my mom,” he said. “The oracle. Maybe I’m turning into her.” “Ah, we all become our parents, eventually,” Zenka said, stabbing the fruit again. “What do you want, Thuvhe?” “I want a space to brew a painkiller,” he said. “And…access to ingredients.” “Do you also want the moon in a jar?” “Does Ogra have a moon?” “Yes, and it’s almost small enough to put in a jar, to be honest.

If Lazmet is alive…” Her eyes fluttered closed. “That needs to be corrected. As soon as possible.” That needs to be corrected. Like a math problem or a technical error. Akos didn’t know how you could talk about your own dad that way. It rattled him more than it would have if Cyra had seemed scared. She couldn’t even talk about him like he was a person. What had she seen him do, to make her talk about him that way? “One problem at a time,” Teka said, a little more gently than usual. Akos cleared his throat. “Yeah, first let’s survive getting through Ogra’s atmosphere. Then we can assassinate the most powerful man in Shotet history.” Cyra opened her eyes, and laughed.

En arrivant, la fillette a un pincement au cœur, car elle aperçoit sur le seuil de la maison la vieille Ogra qui semble l’attendre.

I had had every reason to become closed off, wrapped up tight, pushing everything that resembled life and growth and power as far away from myself as possible. It would have been easier that way, to refuse to let anything in. But I had let Akos in, trusting him when I had forgotten how to trust, and I had let Teka in, too, and maybe one day, Sifa. I would let anyone in who dared draw near. I was like the planet Ogra, which welcomed anyone and anything that could survive life close to it. Not because I deserved pain, and not because I was too strong to feel it, but because I was resilient enough to accept it as an inevitability.

W Sta­nach nie­za­leż­nie od po­li­tycz­ne­go roz­da­nia rzą­dzi więc kilka po­tęż­nych or­ga­ni­za­cji lob­by­stycz­nych. Naj­waż­niej­sza z nich to Wall Stre­et, a więc banki i in­sty­tu­cje fi­nan­so­we. Drugą jest sek­tor mi­li­tar­ny oraz bez­pie­czeń­stwa. Wy­jąt­ko­wo groź­ny dla resz­ty świa­ta, co po­ka­za­ły wy­pad­ki sprzed de­ka­dy. Trze­ci blok to po­tęż­ne lobby izra­el­skie. Potem jesz­cze lobby gór­ni­czo-naf­to­we. Szcze­gól­nie wpły­wo­we od cza­sów Geo­r­ge’a W. Busha, który po­sta­wił wieu naf­cia­rzy na czele po­wią­za­nych z rzą­dem ogra­ni­za­cji zaj­mu­ją­cych się śro­do­wi­skiem. Na tym przy­kła­dzie do­brze widać, jak dzia­ła ta „neo­li­be­ral­na de­re­gu­la­cja”. To zna­czy naf­cia­rze w imie­niu rządu re­gu­lu­ją swój wła­sny sek­tor. I niech pan zgad­nie, w któ­rym kie­run­ku to re­gu­lu­ją! Oczy­wi­ście robią to w taki spo­sób, żeby więk­sza część kosz­tów ich dzia­łal­no­ści zo­sta­ła prze­rzu­co­na na in­nych. W tym przy­pad­ku na śro­do­wi­sko. W ten spo­sób ich pro­duk­ty mogą być śmiesz­nie tanie. A sek­tor ban­ko­wy? Do­kład­nie ta sama hi­sto­ria. Po­zwo­lo­no ban­kom w imię wol­no­ści ro­snąć do roz­mia­rów, gdy stały się zbyt duże, by upaść. I teraz rząd musi je ra­to­wać za każ­dym razem, gdy wpad­ną w kło­po­ty. I to nie tylko po­przez ba­ilo­uty. O wiele czę­ściej od­by­wa się to w spo­sób dużo bar­dziej za­ka­mu­flo­wa­ny. Przez dłuż­szy czas Fed mu­siał wpusz­czać w go­spo­dar­kę cięż­kie mi­liar­dy do­dat­ko­wych do­la­rów. W efek­cie na Wall Stre­et pa­nu­je nie­spo­ty­ka­na hossa. A re­al­na go­spo­dar­ka jak tkwi­ła, tak tkwi w kło­po­tach. Na rynek we­wnętrz­ny to się w ogóle nie prze­kła­da. To nie jest żadna de­re­gu­la­cja. To jest sa­mo­re­gu­la­cja.