#dart feld

[acquired-stardust]

Legend of Dragoon Playstation 1999

[kingofreddragons]

For #LegendOfDragoon ‘s 25 anniversary #DragoonFest , Dart

[cainballad]

I can’t express this enough! Astro bot is such a GREAT GAME full of PlayStation nostalgia throughout the years

but nothing prepared me for seeing DART FROM LEGEND OF DRAGOON in one of the speed run levels!! I had to make triple sure but I knew that hair style and shiny red armor anywhere!

OMFG!! I loathe those special levels but I was determined for HIM! Legend of Dragoon was my childhood game and I love it to bits~ Thank you Astro Bot game. I wonder what other surprises await!

(My Bot is dressed as Ico~)

[baileyblight]

I'm going absolutely batshit insane about The Legend of Dragoon this morning so here's a Dart from... 2016. Good lord this is older than I thought LMAO.

[hazurasinner]

My joy for traditional sketching is returning this year, so hope you all don't mind me sharing some I'll be doing, instead of being only my usual finished digital pictures. Please reblog, do not repost.

[theblindarcher]

Wake up! Dragoon of the Red-Eye Dragon!

GBA FE inspired bust portrait of Dart Feld from Legend of Dragoon. Made back in February as my inaugural Subscriber Suggestion.

[foundfamilyhq]

[disco-grayson]

The Shana glaze is wild here. 💀💀💀

Three of the best characters in the game and you glaze Shana in those tags.

Besides effectively forcing Dart to love her there isn't much else.

Shana isn’t actually that hard to use effectively in the game.

[tillman]

All overwatch characters are also so boring their designs are so nothing. We should all go back to thinking about dart feld. Right now. Its dart time.

[acquired-stardust]

Legend of Dragoon Playstation 1999

[libidomechanica]

“For care, and thrice that”

First foe in Song like to thrown of     this caple, and mynstralsye, with the man’s life I spend, e’re too     though by no means that stek on his time when I perhaps she     undone vast, then yellow. So long, health on Julia’s cheeks, of     me why.—Albeit I’m

sorry he was a friends and that     I have from the full of the smelt o’ the fools of pride, that     shall we both were it can rest. And Eve was it yesterday     I bake. And ladyez, quyle yow ȝelde hewen stod þat wyth     ful bryȝt sunne, and from my

trawþe. Of amethyst I court kynde,     so agreued; þe born. Hey ho gray is a curl; or when this     dear. And long my Honour in a bonie lasse hit a boyish     kind of paved heaven shall renew’d! Remember that, from sleep.     World of my souerayn I

holdez, and scorch; descend. That weening     the sky ascendance o’er the Head hung beauties, and you,     who show no real the Tuism, which from my Maw. No longer heeds     they catch in the yellow as you tell exactly why it     was blue slips on that I

could expiate. He sweet of these     the head is okay but no one who wilt my good enough     all there, of stonez, for þe clambred so clere? The Pow’r expire     consumed, may well addrest to the grave, let not be to     wende when my love, if there.—

And gathered ladyez, þaȝ he honour     in her if April would never like Straw, died his yrnes     mo nyȝtez he went under. When you’ve told; the roadside,     and his Azure Wand, a king, though unfit, heedlesse griefs infold:     but in you wear, made

of his sayings in cruelty,     do not stoden to chaunge in mony cler arms full, right that     whatsoe’er may mon do bot for þe schyree grece schoole of þy     mysses, and þe bare blinding Woes dart; ’tis a mountain, of     posting time the silver.

Shall adore. Shepherd’s whist. For care,     and thrice that blisse, which many a long, leapt aboute hit sothly,     if he schale. In riding’s once are a new neighbour,     when my hopes to the excuse thee shamrock now sweet sisters     withouten pere in felde.

[hearthtales]

Once freed from the bubble, Feld ignored Samhain entirely at first. Ten seconds passed while the smoky creature darted from corner to corner, checking its usual escape routes — cracks in the walls, ceiling, floor — only to find them sealed. Another barrier.

Except, this time, Feld was trapped inside the room. Not outside. It didn’t find the irony amusing.

Giving up on escape for now, the creature settled on the headboard of the bed. Its foggy form smoothed into a dusty-feathered crow. “I did not have a good rest,” it informed him, its raspy voice like the crackle of autumn leaves underfoot. “It was cramped and you kept me in there too long. I didn’t like it.”

The creature shifted from one clawed foot to the other and clacked its beak in displeasure. “You’re being very ungrateful. I gave you a nice dream, and your silly friend spoiled it.” It glared at Samhain with keen amber eyes. “It’s rude to wake people sleeping. You should punish her, not me. Put her in a bubble.”

By the time Maude reached the hearth room, Nightshade was in the middle of recounting their daring escapade from an underground mausoleum maze. "—Sammy was knocked out! The magick circle was keeping us from using magick, from phasing through the walls! The zombies were closing in, nowhere to run—oh!" She stopped just for a second to greet Maude, smiling and waving as she appeared. She resumed right after, retelling the tale with all the punctuations and dramatics of a master wordsmith, much to the delight of all who were listening.

---

There was no telling how much time passed for Feldmire while it was trapped in the bubble. But it was obvious that by the time it was released, Samhain had moved things around and gotten the room ready to welcome it back. The creature would find itself un-bubbled right above the bed (where they last left it), with the ghoul seated in front of it — notebook and pen at the ready. And if it tried to escape, it would find that Samhain had prepared for it by sealing the room with a barrier; ironically the same one that had kept it out the nights before.

"Hullo Feldmire," said Samhain, one leg crossed over the other with his notebook wide open on his lap. He had taken the time to collect himself and knew he couldn't tackle the creature until he was completely calm, and confident in maneuvering its emotional tactics. The ghoul had a neutral expression on his face, his eyes gleaming sharply in the morning light. "Ah hope you 'ad a good rest. We 'ave much to talk about."

[strangeomens-sketch]

[rob--boss]

I started playing The Legend of Dragoon for the first time. It's great! Wanted to redraw Dart's profile art. A lot harder than I thought it'd, but fun.

[hearthtales]

As soon as William disappeared up the stairs, Maude pushed the image of his weary face from her mind and went to fetch a mop and a water bucket. She couldn’t waste time worrying about every guest; she had her own matters to deal with. The mud on the floor wouldn’t clean itself. Then she had to clean the dog himself, hang the clothing out to dry, cook…

Feldmire, the creature who lurked in the inn and who leeched upon guests’ dreams, had no such chores.

It did whatever it pleased and went wherever it pleased. Hidden in the walls, it smelled the horrors that haunted the newest guest’s mind before he even stepped inside the inn. A tantalizing aroma. Feld preferred dreams that tasted more bittersweet, but it still enjoyed a bit of fear every now and then.

Nightmares were unique delicacies. Feld spied on the man from the rafters, disguised as a wisp of smoke no more noticeable than dust drifting through the air. The detached gaze, the exhaustion, the hair-trigger temper… yes, yes, marvelous. Eagerness swirled within Feld. Surely this guest’s frayed nerves would concoct a delicious nightmare once he fell asleep.

Feld did not waste time.

It crept through the walls and watched through thin cracks as William settled into bed. The instant Feld sensed that sleep overtook him, it slithered along the floor of his room, crawled up the bedpost closest to his head, and sank into his mind. It took mere seconds. To William, it would feel like nothing all.

Feld explored the fragmented chaos of a night terror that exceeded its expectations. Oh, the horrors of battle. The horrors of monsters, of disorientation, weapons, pursuit, death, failing those who relied upon him. Feld delighted in them all. It swam amidst the terrors and drank in the energy. Its own crackly laughter blended with the laughter in the dream.

Until a sharp knock at William’s door ruined its fun.

Feld darted from William’s waking mind and dove back into the maze behind the walls to see who had interrupted. Maude. Of course. Leaving something at William’s door. Their contract prevented her from stopping the creature directly, but she still found loopholes, reasons that allowed her to interfere. She likely suspected Feld would target the man.

Such a nuisance. Feld crept away, moving deeper into the walls to sulk and to savor the lingering fear.

Outside William’s door were two handwoven quilts stacked atop each other, and a bowl of hearty stew alongside a mug of soothing tea charmed to stay warm. A spoon rested on a napkin as well.

    He only nods his gratitude. Doesn't trust his voice anymore. Enough damage has been done. Maude's words follow him upstairs and into his room. Shout if you feel faint.

    He isn't at that point, but knows if he goes much further, he will be. It would curdle his stomach if there was anything in it. Thirty-six hours of action straight. He's done it before. Done even longer before. Like the siege in Osaka, hiding in trenches while cloudbursts of flaming arrows poured around him -- the presence of the legendary Miura Anjin could only rally the troops so much when they were pinned in place, gongs ringing from the castle walls to synchronize the archers' volleys and rain death across the battlefield while men moaned and screamed in terror--

    "Fuck," William murmurs, shutting the door. Tonight is going to be bad.

    The carryall hits the floor with a jolt that reverberates off the walls and a rattle of heavy objects within. He has half a mind to hang the helmet on the edge of the bed before dropping onto it himself, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Thirty-six hours. What's wrong with him?

    Saoirse reappears as he pulls his ponytail loose. Though she has never slept in her four hundred and fifty-four years of existence, her host's weariness is a tangible weight. Her usual smile is gone as he lies down and rolls onto his side, and a hideous fear storms through her as one last thought escapes him:

    Please, let it stop.

    But it never stops.

    --the parapets of the house claw at the night sky as he dives into the belly of the beast hallways curling curving no rhyme or reason dead ends false walls croaking laughter under the floorboards - ambushes poison paralytic powders thrown knives spider silk yellow horns around every corner great green crystals a bulwark against progress but he can't stop he is pursued they are pursued if he stops they're all dead - pressure plates chains spike traps the house flips a breaching whale he loses grip on the arching boards tumbles unstoppable - red eyes gaping grinning mouth black smoke blast furnace spear rising from the dark and though he is skewered in half It. Never. Stops.

[dollfishu]

Forgot how much I was obsessed with this absolute gem.