#Gormund

[instantarmageddon]

I was gonna try to remake my elf inquisitor now that I have dai on the ps5 but I couldn't get her to look right so instead I made a dwarf with male pattern baldness whose entire personality is just gonna be 'tired and mildly alarmed middle aged dad' 👍

[cottoncandiescupcakes]

Sauron: Morgoth used to chain me up and spank me and then he'd bring out the dark flame whips and the secret vibrating stick of Gormund and it was some sort of game to endure all that pain inside me, it was awful oh the suffering the beautiful suffering I did sometimes he'd get the sterling silver nipple clamps and

Celebrimbor: ????????????????????? I was talking about seeing the same mouse twice a day what are you even

Celebrimbor: Are you going to do that to me??? To MY butt?

Sauron: If it is what is needed to finish these rings, yes

Celebrimbor: I'll just make them I guess? What is going on here on this day

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

TG stans and this fantasy that they themselves created that the house hightower has relevance in the asoiaf universe, let's be honest, the dance was the only moment they had their 10 minutes of fame lol yes! they are a good house (loyal to house targaryen currently) but they are not relevant afterwards... they are not on the level of targaryens, tyrells, baratheon, starks etc hightowers have no impact on the books currently, even the Greyjoys are more relevant lol

TG stans must hate the ASOIAF timeline so much lmao. House Hightower's only actions have been through Ser Gerold, who was the lord commander of Aerys' Kingsguard. The head of the house, Lord Leyton has locked himself in a tower and is suspected of experimenting with magic, in direct conflict with the Faith and the Citadel.

After the Dance, the Hightowers are only ever seen either keeping to themselves or supporting the Targaryens. In the Blackfyre rebellion, they officially supported neither camp, that's the only somewhat exception.

I've seen some of them wave around Rhaena's marriage to Gormund Hightower as if that's some kind of victory, when really it just cements House Hightower's renewed allegiance to the Targaryens.

The Hightowers have very little significance after the Dance. Their power in terms of the realm is equal to houses like the Freys and the Boltons, but they do so much less than both of them. Their ties to the Fatih and the Citadel are their claims to power, and Leyton is possibly damaging those.

Honestly I think they will come into play in TWOW, what with the ironborn invasion and Leyton's interest in magic. However, they will not take center stage nor be as significant as they were in the Dance. That was their moment of greatest political power, and they won't return to that.

[sugarskullhedgie]

Well rainworld art of a slugcat well a oc of one that is and decided to make a slugcat oc but a gourmand one who i dub them hot cocoa snice fans do call gormund a loaf of bread which is very cute

I was playing as the gourmand and that chubby sluggie is a favorite and i can see why fans like playing as gourmand

also boy i got a bit farther in the game I think i nearly going where all the slugcats are at and there trains? and oh boy rainworld is one hard as nails game even ( more harder if you play as rivet who got the shortest of time to find food and shelter )

Oh the horror you try to find food like its your last meal and trying to get to the shelter as quickly as possible before the rain comes and boy its nerve racking ( i almost died the last time o.o ) and i hate the dropwigs ( so much hate on those bugs they jumpscare you and it did try to eat me while i was carrying a slugpup but it decides to let me go i ran away quickly before it decides to change its mind i think it saw something to use for bait o.o and the spiders oh geezes i try very hard to advoid them or kill it as quickly as i can even for the lizards )

Being a slugcat in rainworld must be hard but slugcats are cute

[breaking-atoms]

Greyjoy OC for A Song of Ice and Fire! His name is Gormund Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands and Lord Reaper of Pyke. He was created after a Discord conversation where I was talking to someone about creating a transgender character for ASOIAF. I think this is an instance where it could work, or at least it could be very interesting! I will be using she/her pronouns for part of it so the backstory makes some more sense.

She was born sometime between Dalton and Loron, along with elder brother, Gormund. She was a bold 'little girl', often wearing men's clothing and armor, climbing boats, and making the men who worked at Pyke laugh. Gormund, on the other hand, was timid and would grow seasick whenever on ship. Their father despaired of his son. One day Gormund and his 'sister' were hanging out by a rocky beach and he accidentally tripped, bashing his head on the stones.

Their father did not want a girl to take over his seat upon his death, and he did not want to give it over to some nephew, cousin, or uncle. Knowing of his 'daughter's' tendencies, he had her take on the role of her brother, name and gender. But it was kept a secret from most.

Gormund liked his new identity, even if he mourned for his brother. He felt comfortable for the first time in his life. He liked learning about his new duties, he liked fighting, he liked sailing. Above all else, he loved being called 'boy' and 'he' and 'little lord.' He adopted cats for his boat to kill the rats and had a devoted crew. When his moon's blood started, he was given strong moon teas when it was unneeded, just to make him infertile. Once, he was sent far away to Essos to have what would be their equivalent of top surgery, using the riches he had plundered from merchants.

He became lord at a young age, 25, and on his deathbed his father called him "my son" even though no one else was around. Few knew of Gormund's true story. Most assumed he was gay, but didn't care so long as he could lead them to glory. He was seen as 'honorable' for an ironborn by Westerosi standards. He was cautious with the Westerosi lords and secretly despised them. He loved to lead his men to war, and whenever a rebellion struck up somewhere, he would flip a coin to decide which side to join. It was said his favorite Greyjoy was Lord Dalton the Red Kraken.

He died at the age of 44 when a pirate in the Stepstones struck his head. His body was thrown overboard by those who knew him soon after.

[444names]

Names generated from The Song of Ice and Fire character names, beginning with "G"

Gaelia Gaeliame Gaelish Gaelistoke Gaell Gaella Gaelo Gaelon Gaelore Gaeloren Gaelorent Gaelorrence Gaelyn Gaelysabite Gaelyx Gaemion Gaemma Gaemmanly Gaemond Gaemorgella Gaerea Gaerell Gaeremoro Gaeren Gaerio Gaeris Gaeron Gaeronna Gaery Gaeryn Gaerynderis Gaerys Galbara Galbarnold Galberon Galbert Galbeth Galbin Garden Gardenya Gardriah Gards Garedford Garegon Garei Garemormond Garemy Garene Gareo Garet Garett Garette Garia Garian Garianna Gariball Garical Garillocke Gario Garion Garis Garlanna Garlei Garlekyndon Garley Garlon Garlongleaf Garlony Garlton Garly Garon Garonnel Garraghoren Garranda Garras Garrey Garri Garrister Garron Garryn Garsa Garsfielder Garsfiell Garsh Garstaunt Garteart Gartho Garthor Garthur Garton Gartyn Garya Garyan Garyl Garyle Garyless Garyn Garys Gaunten Gaunter Gaunters Gaunton Gauntos Gaunts Gauntsman Gawenda Gawenderlys Gawendon Gawendrike Gawendry Gawenya Gawenys...

Genard Gendalester Gendeley Gendonnis Gendredford Gendrickon Gendrosling Genner Genning Gennis Geraldonner Gerandry Gerands Geras Gereams Gereg Geregendrew Gerei Gerel Gerell Gerelle Geremon Geren Gerena Gerence Gerencer Gerenfryd Gerenn Gerenna Gerenne Gerennys Gerenten Geria Geriantha Geribald Geric Gerichard Geriel Gerio Gerison Germen Germidon Germit Germitis Germon Germonald Germond Germun Germundamos Geroldhanne Gerolph Geron Geronner Geronwood Gerra Gerragon Gerran Gerraneford Gerras Gerratherys Gerrey Gerri Gerridge Gerrio Gerrollon Gerry Gerryk Gerse Gevines Gevinesel Gevineselly Gevinesio Gevinessen Gilber Gilberence Gilberenna Gilberie Gilberon Gilberrand Gilberrel Gilberton Gilbertrane Gilberys Gilbeth Gilbetha Gilla Gilladalt Gillard Gillareon Gillarrion Gille Gillen Gillena Gillene Gillidar Gilliffith Gillion Gillis Gillissa Gilliver Gillo Gillonmout Gillorime Gillwood Gillwool Gillyn Gillynoras Gillys Gleaf Gleana Gleather Gleatherne Gleathers Glena Glendren Gloveron Gloverouse Glovers Gloves Godria Godrian Godrianna Godric Godricall Godrick Godrik Godrike Godryn Golde Golder Goldhan Good's Goodbroonel Goodbroote Goodcocks Gooder Goodera Goody Gored Goredpool Gorence Gorenforle Gorent Gormonal Gormontos Gormund Gorna Gorne Gornesel Gornesio Gornwoode Gorolances Gorolandon Goron Goros Gorosby Goross Goryam Goryn Gorys Goryse Gowen Gowendrene Gowers Grace Gracey Grackbar Grackbarra Grackfyren Gracks Gracktyde Gracter Grana Grand Grandene Grander Grandonnard Grandre Grandred Grandroward Grands Grandyll Grane Granei Granklyn Grantagaret Grave Graven Gravens Graver Gravos Greach Greah Greake Greams Greamsay Greathea Greather Greathis Greathorgot Greed Greenbert Greenford Greenfree Greenfren Greenfreyse Greenhanguy Greenhanna Greenhanya Gregal Gregalber Gregane Grege Gregerry Gregis Gregnar Gregnara Gregnard Grella Grellament Grellaregis Grelle Grellegar Greller Grelly Grenar Grenarings Grence Grenell Grenfield Grenford Grenfreyse Grenfrydes Grenken Grenly Grenmure Grenmuren Grennald Grenny Grent Greydona Greyironnel Greyjoyeuse Greyle Greylen Greynafry Greynald Greynar Greynara Greynard Greyne Greyse Greysel Greysell Greysene Griffe Grifferemy Griffitha Griffitheus Gritte Gritted Grittle Grittlessa Grittley Grovero Groveron Groveronell Groverouse Grovers Guardis Guaro Guaron Guncan Gunce Gunceren Gunces Gward Gwardy Gwate Gwategore Gwategorose Gwaters Gwatt Gwayn Gwaynarch Gwell Gwella Gwellack Gwellena Gwelleton Gwello Gwendross Gwendry Gwind Gwinda Gwines Gwinessa Gwint Gwinten Gwinter Gwynafred Gwynal Gwynarchs Gwynchat Gwynd Gwynder Gwyne Gwynthan Gwynthanne Gylber Gylberrykk Gylbeth Gylbetha Gylbett Gylda Gyldaynwood Gyldaynwool Gylder Gylderlan Gylen Gylena Gylendore Gylesansa Gylester Gyllaret Gysell Gysellamen Gyselyn Gysen Gysene Gysenya Gysenys

[fdragon-art]

Day 167 - Compass of Mestisya

"The Greatsword of Gormund drew us out from underneath the clutches of darkness when all seemed lost. Nevermore shall we lose our way under Gormund's guiding light~"

[als-aargauer-unterwegs]

Um das Seetal herum Vollständiger Bericht bei: https://agu.li/1RO Verflogen sind die Sorgen um schwarze Wolken und Niederschlagszellen. Pünktlich mit dem Sommeranfang hat sich auch das Wetter gebessert. Das GPS registrierte 107.9 KM und 935 Höhenmeter.

[meg-moira]

Silver: Are you comfortable writing in public places?

and

Purple: Which of your characters would become your sworn enemy?

Are you comfortable writing in public places?

Yes! For me, the problem with public spaces is the sheer number of visible distractions. Even if I have headphones in (which I almost have to use if I’m going to focus where other noises are happening), things moving and people doing things will inevitably draw my attention. Which can be fine! Just so long as I’m not trying to get a ton of writing done 😅

Which of your characters would become your sworn enemy?

Gormund from “Letta and the Cursebreakers” because he is so awful to Letta >:(

[daedriclorde]

A Thief in Wolf’s Clothing, Part II: Chapter 4, “Family”

 Kjolti begins to feel at home in Jorrvaskr; meanwhile, Brynjolf continues his search for word of Aerisif.

Read here on Ao3!

Kjolti stumbled out of her quarters. Her mouth felt dry and her tongue thick. Head pounding, she slowly made her way toward the hall. This condition was the usual result after a night of revelry with the Companions. 

What the fuck did I drink? She wondered, rubbing her temples. On some level, Kjolti knew that it wasn’t what, that was the problem, so much as how much, but she did not want to admit that to herself. She had started drinking fairly heavily since her induction, and she didn’t care to stop.

Upon turning the corner, she squinted at an unfamiliar figure moving about. Kjolti blinked. A woman came into focus, a pretty young thing wearing rather impractical clothing.

“Who the fuck are you?” Kjolti grumbled. 

Some combination of Kjolti’s tone, and likely her disheveled appearance, frightened the woman, because she startled at the rough question. She released a high pitched yelp of surprise that made Kjolti wince, and scurried off toward the stairs even faster.

“What the—“ Kjolti leaned against the wall, trying to figure out where the woman had come from.

Oh, of course. Naturally. Vilkas’s door was slightly ajar, and loud snores could be heard from within. Kjolti rolled her eyes and continued onto her goal: breakfast. 

The daylight streaming in through the halls windows made Kjolti blink. She sank down onto an empty bench and hungrily attacked the loaf of bread before her. 

Bread, she cooed in her head. Bread seemed about a hundred times better when she was hungover. Tilma was passing by with a tray full of tankards and Kjolti grabbed one without caring what was inside. A sip confirmed it was a nutty ale. A little hair of the dog—wolf, she mused to herself with a bleak smile. Her stomach rolled at first but quickly accepted the food and drink.

Kjolti then became aware of the others in the hall, all in similar states as she. Athis and Ria were sitting a little while down, Ria looking rather sickly. Torvar was still face first into a pie, where he had obviously crashed last night. Farkas sat slumped against a empty barrel of mead.

Kjolti then became aware that she was being watched, just as she was doing the watching. She caught Kodlak and Skjor sitting in the corner, chuckling deep together. Grinning, she stood and made her way over to them on wobbly legs. 

“Enjoying the scene?” She asked as she planted herself on the bench next to them.

“Oh, very much,” Skjor chuckled. “It brings two old men life to watch the young drink up—quite literally—their youth.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kodlak said with his nose in the air. “It was certainly just yesterday that we were waking up in our own puddles of mead.” They all laughed at that. 

“Kodlak, do you want me dead? You’ll split my wounds open!” Skjor grinned.

Kjolti grinned too. She was beginning to feel something that she didn’t think she could anymore. Family.

“You know, you fit in here quite well, Kjolti.” Skor’s voice was soft and warm.

She looked up, startled. “Thank you Skor…that…that means a lot to me.”

“It seems I owe you a great deal. I have heard that you were instrumental in keeping me alive, after the raid on the Silverhand.”

Kjolti shrugged sheepishly. “I did what any one of us would do, Skjor. Never leave a Companion behind, right?”

“I was on the death’s door once again, and yet again, saved by a member of your family. You have brought honor to your family and this hall.”

Kodlak nodded in agreement. “You have done the Companions proud, girl. Your father would have been proud as well.”

Kjolti felt tears welling in her eyes, but refused to let them fall. This is my family now.

***

Farkas blinked awake, heading pounding and vision blurry. He groaned as he felt the crick in his spine from sleeping leaning against the mead barrel all night. With a loud snap he righted his back.

Taking account of the rest of his body, Farkas found he was aching all over. More mead, he thought. That’ll help. But as he began to rise, he froze as his eyes landed on a beautiful sight. 

Kjolti sat across Jorrvaskr, laughing heartily with Skjor and Kodlak. Farkas softened. Her smile, her bright silver eyes. They always made him pause. He sat back down heavily and sighed. 

And she has no idea how I feel. The very thought of telling Kjolti how he felt paralyzed Farkas. He, a member of the Inner Circle of The Companions, direct descendants of Ysgramor’s Five Hundred, a fearsome werewolf in his own right, was terrified at the very idea of telling the woman he was obsessing over how he felt about her.

Coward, he berated himself. He rubbed his face in his hands, peeking through his fingers at Kjolti again.

She looked well. It wasn’t long ago that she and Aela returned with Skjor on their  shields, all three covered in blood. It had been nearly six moons since that night. He knew then how he felt. He knew it much longer ago than that. And yet here he was, still watching Kjolti from a distance. 

But not so distant anymore, he thought with an inner smile. Now that Kjolti was a werewolf too, they had become closer. They transformed and hunted together, and often. Maybe too often. There are risks. But the risks disappeared in his mind as Kjolti saw he was awake and started to carry a loaf of bread over to him. 

***

Solitude always impressed Brynjolf. As he strolled through the gates, he took in the city. It certainly was closest thing to a metropolis in Skyrim. He took a deep breath in of crisp mountain air.

When I find Aerisif, maybe we’ll retire here. The thought was nice: the pair of them dressed in fine robes, strolling around the market, attending festivals at the Bard’s College.

But a tiny seed of doubt was growing in the pit of his stomach.

Brynjolf walked past The Winking Skeever just as an Argonian emerged. Golum-Ei lifted his head. They locked eyes for a moment. Brynjolf gave him a warning look. Not today. You don’t know me today.

Golum-Ei seem to understand. He quickly looked away and carried on with his business, as if the redhead was just another stranger in the city. Brynjolf released a breath and continued forward. Dressed as he was in his standard blue robes, Brynjolf looked like just another stranger. As was his intention.

Brynjolf veered off towards the stairs that lead to Castle Dour. 

“I’ve got a little work if you’re interested, traveller,” a voice called out from the shadows.

Brynjolf knew enough about voices that call out from the shadows and the kind of offers they made. He didn’t even look in its direction as he continued toward the stairs.

“Everyone’s got to work,” mumbled the shadows.

Aye, but I’m not here on business. Maybe if Brynjolf was here on Guild business, he would see what the Argonian was about, see if the Guild could use him. But not today. Today, he had a mission. He continued up the stairs and through the stone archway. Brynjolf pointedly did not make eye contact with the guard flanking the door to Castle Dour. Easier to stay unnoticed when you don’t make eye contact.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the castle interior. Brynjolf immediately picked up on an agitated conversation from the room ahead.

“You people and your damm Jarls.” The speaker was frustrated. Brynjolf edged closer, and inferred that it was General Tullius himself.

“Sir?” A legate standing nearby measured her words carefully. “You can’t force a Nord to accept help he hasn’t asked for.”

“If Ulfric’s making a move on Whiterun, then we need to be there to stop him. Draft another letter with the usual platitudes, but this time share some of your intelligence regarding Ulfric’s plans. Embellish if you have to. We’ll let it seem like its his idea.”

“Yes, Sir.” Brynjolf could see the legate’s face now. He recognized the expression. It was one he had worn many times when receiving orders from Mercer.

Tullius shook his head. “You Nords and your bloody sense of honor.” He began to walk away from the large table when he saw Brynjolf in the doorway. “Are my men now giving free reign to anyone who wanders into the castle? Do you have some reason to be here, citizen?”

Brynjolf straightened. “Aye, I do. I’m here about Helgen.”

Tullius rolled his head in annoyance. “If you think you can waltz in here to be entertained with stories of dragons like I’m some damn Moon-Singer, you are sorely mistaken. I have a war to win.”

Brynjolf held up a hand. “Please. I don’t need more than a moment of your time. I’m not here about the dragon.”

Tullius raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

“No. One of the prisoners. A woman. Black hair, silver eyes. Did she escape?”

The general crossed his arms. “Are you asking me for confidential information on an Imperial prisoner?”

Brynjolf crossed his arms and stood tall. “Aye, I suppose I am. Did she escape?”

Tullius gave Brynjolf a measuring look. “Why should I tell you anything? I don’t know who you are, why you’re here, or who sent you.”

“I’m Gormund, of Dragon Bridge, I’m here about the prisoner with black hair and silver eyes, and I sent myself. The sooner you answer my question, the sooner I’ll leave. Did she escape?”

Tullius considered for a moment, then relaxed his expression. “I’m not going to waste either of our time. There’s no point. I don’t know your prisoner, or if she escaped. She wasn’t on our lists, it seems my men threw her in the wagon anyway. Something about a disturbance at the camp. She made it to the block, but that’s when the dragon attacked. We didn’t kill her, but I can’t say the dragon didn’t. That’s all I know.”

Brynjolf’s eyes held fire as he listened to Tullius’s account, but he maintained his stony expression otherwise. “Thank you for your time.” He turned and left. Brynjolf’s gaze was unfocused. Passersby looked at him curiously, but wisely did not approach him.

He made it all the way outside of the city gates before he unleashed a near-feral shout of frustration, anger, and grief. 

[eligabus]

Ok y’all, first thing’s first- please check out my wonderful friend’s/the artist’s Instagram at art.by.christina.minton and give her a follow!  Now that the important bit is done, say hello to Wisp, the second character I have made for a (hopefully) long term DnD campaign!  She is a super cool, super hot Air Genasi Monk, who spent her young years before her martial arts training traveling the countryside as a halfling physician’s assistant, learning tricks of the trade (that she would later use to help her fellow peers when they got hurt in unapproved fights).  Very soft spoken, Wisp never throws the first punch.  But, if you get on her bad side, her temper is a force to be reckoned with.  She’s also prone to throwing mad shade, but it is yet to be seen if she does it intentionally. We have only had one session as a party- which also consists of a high-energy Half-elf Bard named Dove, a food-loving Dwarf Cleric named Gormund Steelbelly, and a very mysterious Human Ranger named Ivara.  I’m excited to keep developing my girl’s personality and backstory and see what kind of chaotic adventures we end up going on! (Also hopefully sometime soon I’ll be able to commission Christina to do a drawing of my first long-term DnD character so I can half a wonderful picture of her as well) 

[ringfingersfunhouse]

[artundfoto]

Der Blick ... #auge #schafsbock #nature #tierfotografie #momentaufnahme #sbf_member #artundfoto (hier: Gormund) https://www.instagram.com/p/CHnd_Dsjccq/?igshid=3gclld12kpus

[severeart-blog]

Gormund. #cartoon #penandink #sketch #illustration #art #drawing #cartoon

[360cbfoto]

Madonna von Bruno Raffa

[als-aargauer-unterwegs]

Herzschlaufe Seetal Vollständiger Bericht bei: http://agu.li/1KM Weit über dem Seetal und dem Suhrental, auf der Radroute 599 unterwegs gewesen. Eine Route die für E-Bikes angelegt ist. Überraschenderweise sind dabei die Aufstiege viel steiler als ich das erwartet hatte. Das GPS registrierte 112.4 KM und 1396 Höhenmeter.