#dwarf fortress spoilers

[bubblebaath]

the circus has arrived in town!

[agonius]

my dwarves have witnessed the horrors

[fanelectricboogieloo]

So currently working on a project where I taken this Minotaur and send them through hell with a nomad wagon with the task of hauling an Adamantine throne to some queen. it was at this moment I realize how far the queen is from the minotaur's lair well this going to be a fun run. Oh yeah another fun note due to how nomad keeps revealing tiles being in hell and having the adamantine tubes be reveal causes a wave of demons to pop up (usually it happens once if there already an wave of demons that spawn from that event and doesn't spawn another wave for each hole... but from what I seen if there's no other tube revealed or 'breached' the game will breach the next one and spawn in more fiends so it not just a one time deal.)

[fuckyeahdwarffortress]

Doing a bit of digging into that "Farming angels/Divine metals".

It's less complex than I thought. It turns out Divine/Artefact material dropped by Angels can be melted.

From there, the standard bar dupe (making leggings, then smelting them back into bars over and over), and you'd get near unlimited materials.

As for taming Angels, you can do so if you were to settle atop known Vaults, which has been a bug for a few editions. Humanoid Angels, however, will still be far more hostile.

As said, I may need to do further digging, so apologies if this is outdated/incorrect.

[autistic-autumn]

Apparently ghosts still become werebeasts if they are cursed.

[kobblefort]

The End of Rushsly

Endgame spoilers for Dwarf Fortress under the cut

In the third cavern layer, one forgotten beast shows up to kill the previous, as tends to happen with forgotten beasts. Up above, the kobbles finally make a refuse pile and discover just how much mussel shell waste they generate. The butchers got to work fixing the "why do we have 30 stray dogs here" problem. And down at the bottom of the world, after all hope was given up on and we just started digging massive chunks like wild cunts...

A pocket of water, obsidian, and gems. Well, it's not adamantine just yet, but I've never even seen a "star ruby" before. And on top of that...

It literally explodes into flames when you hit it sometimes.

Treasure, treasure!!! Literally buried in the walls! A twisting metal scimitar named Leto Bemta - the Boat of Salves - worth more than one of our entire bins full of gems thus far. Obsidian and diamonds. It has to be close. And there's also...

blood? But Zirga wasn't a miner, they never even came down here. And R'eekeek, didn't they die years ago?

It needs to be carved out fully and completely. Nobody's been hurt by the water gushing forth yet, which is a blessing - it's already slow enough for the miners to get down here from the tavern or their apartments. But it's not adamantine yet. More, more. Come on, give me more.

I get more.

Anl was pretty cool. Getting his head exploded by the stomp of a snow wraith is at least a quick way to go, if not a glamorous one. The snow wraith earned herself a name with that kill: Shosclylr. "Badfogs." She takes a second to acquaint herself with the world of the living for a moment, then charges up the stairs. The marksbolds have already been sent down to deal with her. There's no reason we'll have to seal the whole shaft up over one single monster, right?

Even a well-made steel helm only offers one extra second in the face of this beast. I didn't really know Almic. She kills a woodcutter who was in the area picking up gems the same way, Driliv. I didn't really know Driliv either. Tulys Worthspun and Case Griffonboats are next, marksbolds. She just kicks the poor bastards' heads into paste. Kikli Shakenmarks and Syl Destinedechoes die just as fast, and she hasn't even taken a scratch.

A new title, "the Mongrel of Mirroring." I'm calling it off. I'm sealing the shaft. Urd Putridcharms, Alcr Dressworm and Rota Tickbrave barely escape before the hatches are sealed and the doors are barred.

But there was one last person in the shaft. Nucra Framegarnishes.

It ends the same way.

With the last of its prey killed, pulped in a mere instant like all the rest, it just sits there, self-satisfied. It doesn't need to eat or sleep or anything else; it can wait forever.

I can't know how everyone in this room feels about having been turned away before going to face it, but I can't imagine it's good.

This would be a good place to stop, you know. The fortress is entirely self-sufficient, fully stocked, we could just say that we learned our lesson, closed off the shaft entirely and never went back. That avarice's wage can only be paid in blood, that there are things kobble kind was never meant to find.

But what kind of climax would that be?

I want my adamantine.

We've dealt with beasts like this before. There's a way to do this without any more undue bloodshed. There's absolutely no reason to stop. We still have five miners left, and plenty more layabouts who can become one if the need arises.

Once the shape of the monster is revealed, most kobbles that come down to assist in preparing the fortifications turn tail and flee as soon as they enter the firing chamber. Nucra Framegarnishes has begun rotting, stinking, seeping the miasma of death through the walls - and reminding everyone of the agony that not being able to bury them provides. Winter ends, and the year 256 begins. A seventh year of Rushsly. That's supposed to be a lucky number. But even the marksbolds don't believe they're safe, and make up excuses - just before reaching the chamber, "oh, I've got to fill up my waterskin." "Am I sure these are the right bolts?" "I think there might be a better-fitting pair of gauntlets upstairs, I should try those on first."

More goddamn gnolls. The two that almost make it in are crushed in the drawbridge. Why now?

Cire Ghostivy, who always seems to be out on the surface when this happens, is bludgeoned repeatedly by a gnoll thief using their bag as a weapon. It goes on for agonizingly long until he finally dies. These gnolls are from The Ace Seductions, for what it's worth, so they probably didn't get the memo about the fake entranceway with all the traps, as evidenced by one letting his hand get sliced off by a serrated iron disc before, you guessed it, stepping right on a cage trap.

Those who don't anticlimactically step on cage traps end up shredded by the weapon traps instead. Their lives and deaths are hardly worth mentioning. But down at the bottom of the earth...

It takes a few handfuls of bolts, but the snow wraith is finally defeated, bursting into chunks of its constituent snow before us. Finally, it's safe to bury the fallen kobbles. You might notice by the absurd little patrol route that it took some real finagling to actually make the kobbles attack, but finagle we did.

I'm not sure "pyrrhic victory" is the right word to use here, and I can't be assed to look it up, but it certainly isn't a feel-good story. Dralas Containedbanded got the final shot, so we won't be congratulating a new Beast Slayer. Tomb space is starting to come at a premium, and it's hard not to think: all that just for some gems? We already had gems. Adamantine, damnit, adamantine. What I want is adamantine.

Anl Crystaldepth, son of clan leader Alsrta Moltenend, created this magnetite scepter during all that chaos, with a truly impressive value, though it's not particularly interesting. It feels like a lot of the artifacts we've created just have images of gems on them - along with the gems, obviously, sometimes it's like they can't get the gem they actually want and just draw it on there. Very few pieces that tell any kind of story, though if we're here in a few years, that'll probably change - Badfogs the Mongrel of Mirroring might not be the catchiest name, but it should prove hard to forget.

The butchering spree had very predictable results.

Some action from the second cavern layer gives me a pretty good idea of where, exactly, my framerate went, so I cheer on Ashan Plaguehole's optimization efforts. I notice a bunch of kobbles canceling jobs and panicking and start wondering why until I remember...

they can literally see into there, lol. And unfortunately...

It takes this many goddamn names in the combat log to do it, but Ashan goes down at last. The ant people go back to their business, and we've got to get back to ours.

I don't learn my lesson.

Through Zhasrca Foldcounselled's sacrifice, it is finally revealed to us.

One little completely inaccessible tile of adamantine deep at the bottom of the great magma sea.

You know what?

Fuck this.

I'd grown tired of this fort a while ago, thus the slowing pace of updates. The deep-digging schtick ground all our industry and the actually fun stuff going on in our fortress to a halt. After checking with "reveal hell" in dfhack, I discovered two "HFS Tubes" with the tiniest bits of adamantine to recover from them that are completely inaccessible from just about any angle without going through the hassle of waiting for kobbles to set up pumps and die stupidly channeling out magma. I could just go gung-ho straight into the hole and unleash all the demons and everybody dies, but why? Is that really funny? Is that really interesting? Of course you thought I was going to do that because I am unhinged and it's funny to make all the pretend little virtual people die stupidly but I don't want to. I like my kobbles. I like Ace Steel running around with her three kids in one hand and her massive steel axe in the other casually being one of the greatest warriors kobblekind will ever see. I like Acl Controlledown running around doing the most menial fucking chores like fetching water and burning logs into charcoal despite being the literal founder of the fortress, I like Alsrta Moltenend randomly freaking out about the prospect of someone not making her a bunch of rings fast enough, I liked Cire Ghostivy's dumb ass always being out fishing when trouble came and finally having to pay for it, I liked Zil Dentedleaks being so miserable it was on the precipice of snapping for every moment of its entire life yet never actually doing it. I know it would be totally freaking epic o_O;; for everybody to just all suddenly die stupidly but this game is about stories and that's a dumb story. Rushsly isn't about kobbles getting Punished For Avarice it's about bird towers and were-turtles and drawbridge accidents. So it's going to end here.

There will be plenty more forts because I really like to play this game and writing about it makes it feel a lot less like a waste of time. We're still going to find out what my deal with David Cage is but not today. I said this much earlier but Rushsly will quite literally still be here, persisting in the world as the self-sufficient fortress we created, maybe even becoming the kobble equivalent of Mountainhome in time if the next schmuck who runs it doesn't get everyone slaughtered by gnolls and ratfolk. It's not like there wasn't a climax here: I think the carnage Badfogs caused was more than enough of a big final action sequence to satisfy me and Zhasrca breaking into the magma sea was exactly where I'd like to cap off the denouement. So that's it. Rushsly is retired. As long as they can keep the meat off the floor and the forgotten beasts on their own side of the walls, they might just make it indefinitely. I'd like to make a much less ambitious fortress next, one with a twist - this one was plenty of fun but very straightforward. I'm thinking about either Untamed Wilds or a glacier, and since Rushsly was so isolationist (visitors were never actually allowed into taverns or temples, just for trading) I'd like to do one that's a bit more "public." Whatever the case, we'll be back in Daarunbay Detevay soon. Very soon. I mean like, probably tonight soon.

Thanks for reading

[lesser-sage-of-stars]

huh, i guess cotton candy was removed.

[bara-izu]

☼Personality | Family | Diety | Relationships ☼

v Full profile under cut v

☼ Personality ☼

A gentle giant, Halion prides himself on his ability to defuse situations through constructive conversation, only using violence as a last resort. (*Cough* With the exception of some big bad nasties who dont deserve a chance...*Cough*)

In an ideal world, he believes power should be used to protect those in need, and while not everyone shares this idology, he will ensure his own strengths will do just that.

Although Halion may seem naive on the surface, he just likes to see the best in everything, desperately trying to keep a positive spin on things - for his own sanity... He hopes this positivity can be a beacon of light for others, though it can be a detriment to himself, hiding his own anxieties to keep up a smile...

Behind his cheerful disposition, he also had a devious sense of humor, he also understands that sometimes, feigning ignorance, makes it easier to get what you want....sometimes....

Gorgeous template by: Arcandoria

☼ Family ☼

Born in Elturel, Halion was raised by his adoptive parents; his half-elf father, a quiet, mild mannered scholar, and his Dwarf mother, a loud, cheerful jeweler in the city of Candlekeep. Growing up in the fortress of knowledge, the young teifling was surrounded by stories documenting the achievements of heroes past, filling him with an desire to join them one day.

At the age of 7, the family moved to Baldur's Gate, his parents retiring to focus on themselves and raising their child. Halion still has a very close relationship with his parents, with of course them being the first people he went to check on after arriving back in the city.

☼ Diety & Paladin Oath ☼

While his parents aren't particularly devout, during his younger years, still attached to stories of powerful and heroic characters, Halion looked to the Gods that inspired them, in hopes that he could channel their goodwill.

Growing particularly fond of the MorningLord, Lathander, Halion aspired to become a Paladin under the 'Order of the Aster', some of the highest ranking knights in the clergy. However, as he grew older, he began to understand that The Order, much like many others, were far too militarian and heavy handed for his liking. While he was still determined to train and protect those around him, Halion had detached himself from the church as an institution, to follow his own head and heart.

'Sunblaze' is not his surname, but a title given to him when he first took up his Oath. While he no longer follows the group he got the title from, he still holds it dear.

☼ Relationships ☼

!!! ENDGAME SPOILERS MARKED IN RED!!!

☼ Shadowheart:

Like a sister to him. While he found it difficult to navigate around her spikey exterior at first, he soon found a little banter and trust goes a long way. He felt an great smpathy for the way her desires to be a dark justiciar fizzled out after the events with the Nightsong, and while not as dramatic, could related to his aspirations with the Aster Order.

After the events with the Netherbrain, she has been invited to stay with his parents, himself and Astarion for as long as she wishes, while they find a new place to settle.

☼ Gale:

From their first meeting, the two got along incredibly well. Sharing their hunger for knowledge, the two would share whatever books they had collected along the way. Unfortunately, this also lead to a little bit of misunderstanding...And while Halion was very excited to learn about the weave, he couldn't quite read the signs... And was severely embarrassed when he had to turn gale down... It took some time but after they were able to go back to being friends.

After the events of the Netherbrain, Gale left following an argument about the crown... Halion is still sad about this and hopes to eventually make contact with him again, wherever he may be...

☼ Astarion:

Starting on a bad note, Halion found it hard to understand him at first. But despite his grumbles Astarion stayed with the group, which lead him to understand his prickerly behaviour was similar to Shadowhearts- in a form of self preservation. Similarly to the events with Gale, Halion didn't quite read the mood (or pass the insight check...) and was swept up in Astarion's manipulations, thinking they had formed a close bond...

However, after the encounter at Moonrise, Halion suggested they start again, as friends first. in a 'I know we both have feelings, but i think you have more important things on your mind' kind of way, reassuring him he'd still be there.

It was only after the conclusion of events with Cazador did the pair start again.

After the final events with the netherbrain, Halion swore to continue to search for a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. Along with shadowheart, the trio are currently relocating his parents first before they continue their adventure.

[ficbrish]

Smoke Rings

[AO3 Link]

[Here we go! @flufftober Spring Edition 2024! Thank you for the prompt 🥰 March 13th - Spring Cleaning]

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

tw/cw: Sexual content, cptsd, blood, alcohol, weed/mushrooms, smoking, sex while high, post-battle scenery, gore, death, hanging reference, an unserious small dick joke, vague reference to past incest and CSA

After the game, but before the epilogue, Astarion and Vistri find a new home in the Underdark.

END GAME/POST-CANON SPOILERS!

Exhausted and ragged, they looked at each other in disbelief and clasped hands.

Their last enemy had been cut down; the fortress finally won.

“I believe we have a home now, darling.”

Astarion’s voice was strained from shouting, and moisture clouded his ruby eyes. His words echoed hollowly, but they were real.

A home, in the Underdark. That kind of life had been snatched from Vistri at the vengeful end of a serving fork. Dear Uncle Hurzeth really should have learned to shut his mouth, but like most religious men, he wasn’t known for his humility or impulse-control.

Vistri’s name and birthright burnt to ash upon his funeral pyre; stuffed in the gullet of his perverse corpse. In seizing justice, retribution wrapped around her own throat like an executioner’s noose, diminishing her to the life of a wandering Surface vagabond. Never to have a home in the violet gloom again.

Until the Nautiloid came along playing matchmaker and diviner of fate.

Their homecomings were each other’s exiles. As she reunited with the permanent dark, Astarion was banished to it. All that illithid nonsense allowed the sun to lovingly grace his skin without burning it to cinders. Now sans tadpoles, or the sacrifice of seven thousand other vampire spawn, his bright star once more turned to poison.

Luckily, Vistri was all the sun he ever needed. She dwarfed the real one in comparison to how she brightened his days and left a pleasant tingling on his skin. Its daylight cast shadows, while her spotlight chased away all shade. Its radiant touch whispered and dissipated rather quickly, hers shouted and echoed endlessly.

And even when it was the other way around, Astarion turned Vistri’s prison into a sanctuary. Maybe it was Sune herself who blessed them, for the love they found taught them the true meaning of home.

Standing back to back in the blood-soaked corridors of their brand-new ancient fortress, all they’d really gained was an address.

And a place to keep their stuff.

And host parties at.

…And for teaching and protecting all the others who’d broken from Cazador’s heavy chains.

Tiredly they turned and fell into each other’s arms, bracing themselves against their weariness. The rush of battle still flared through every muscle as their heightened senses filled with nothing but the other. Relief vibrated into a livid need, so furious at death that it came alive.

Her whimper wouldn’t have been half as charming if she wasn’t so completely oblivious to it building in her throat. He dwarfed it with a moan, taking her lips tenderly between his.

Breaking apart, she sighed and swore, “I’d let you take me over these corpses.”

“Wouldn’t be very sanitary though, would it?”

She giggled senselessly and twirled from his embrace to survey the room. Unsuccessfully clearing the ecstatic happiness from her lips with a smirk, she said, “It’s a fucking dump.”

Astarion threw his head back and laughed with such relief it sounded like sobbing.

Having carved a path of carnage all the way from the gates to that final corridor, they had a clear way back to the others. The halls seemed a lot longer when they were fighting their way through them. And populated with more vampires.

At some point along their macabre stroll, Astarion suddenly stopped them. “But where are all the spawn?” he asked warily.

“Perhaps they’ve met up already?”

Uneasy shivers skirted his neck. He felt them despite being just out of reach. It was enough of a warning for him to suggest they continue carefully, slowly. Even if there was nothing to worry about, a little caution couldn’t hurt.

The reason for his misgivings became apparent as soon as they approached the courtyard. Apparently everyone had met up already. A veritable feeding frenzy played out before them. Ravenous spawn were covering the cadavers like carrion. It was like the Shadowfell had descended, warping them into a Domain of sickness. The risen dead devouring a small village.

They thought they’d learned everything to know about the Dhampir, but clearly their education was just getting started. Astarion was one vampire, and that’s all they were used to. This was a horde. No stranger to the sight of him ripping off a bandit’s head and drinking from it like a chalice, Vistri still froze in fear at the scene before them.

Growling instinctively, Astarion stepped in front of her. Territorial feeders, the spawn were spaced like pieces on a freshly set lanceboard. Even so, the crowd was denser over by the gates, where most of the carnage was concentrated. His siblings feasted among them. He couldn’t help the sense of superiority that dawned on him at the sight.

He might not have ascended at Cazador’s death, but in observing his brethren’s lowly acts, thought himself lord of them all. The blood they supped on was dead and dull, no matter how fresh and warm. Astarion had Vistri. He didn’t steal, because she gave. She came to him willingly, and her blood ran with drow and dragon, so vibrantly full of life it was as powerful as a storm.

Vistri pitied them. How hungry and desperate, how alone they all were. She looked at Astarion in a new beloved light. He was the one who brought them together, the one who would guide them all to be better. 

Astarion was the first one to get away, to learn to control his nature. He was the one who killed Cazador. He was the one who broke their chains, giving them another chance. He was the one who had something to teach all the rest.

He felt such a bitter disgust; none of them should ever be this desperate, this starved. Feed, he thought proudly, looking out, Feed to your fill. They’d do better than animals and cooling corpses soon enough.

Realizing they were senseless of anything but the bleeding bodies stacked in front of them, Astarion scooped Vistri into his arms like a bride to carry her across the courtyard.

“You will not be afraid in your own home. I’ll make sure no one gives you a reason,” he said it so surely, it was more a statement of fact than a promise.

As he walked past the growling, slurping spawn, Vistri hid her face in his breast like a nervous child. The world was dangerous and threatening, but she was safe in his arms. Still, the relief she felt was full-bodied when they passed under arches and retreated into the fortress.

He carried her though the blooded halls of time-forgotten stone, unsure of where he was headed. Just somewhere else away from the others, away from the marks of battle. Astarion searched until he was satisfied he’d found a corner that could be entirely theirs. It took him far down the corridors, climbing stairs where he saw the opportunity.

Arms aching, he gave up on perfection and settled for what seemed like it would do. As they crossed the chosen chamber threshold, he kissed Vistri’s cheek and said, “Welcome home, my love.”

She giggled as he set her down with an, “Ooof! ”

The room was too spacious to be a closet, and contained no hints of its purpose. There were chairs everywhere, some broken, none matching. A desk was placed haphazardly near the middle, or maybe it was a table. Wooden crates were stacked to the side in a disorderly way, like they’d been quickly stashed and forgotten. Vistri wanted to open them immediately. She spilled out of Astarion’s arms and tumbled towards them.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here!” she said, rubbing her hands together. She hit one with an ice cantrip.

“Careful!” he chuckled as the air around them chilled and wood cracked.

The crate didn’t open, the side just sort of froze.

“Blast!”

Spotting the way Vistri frustratedly pulled her foot back for a kick, Astarion picked her up and pulled her away. She fussed in his embrace like an angry cat.

“By the gods, you’ll break whatever’s in there,” he chuckled, “Let me do it.”

Vistri crossed her arms, “Fine.”

Alas! There was wine. After he put her down, he pried the crate open with one of his knives, revealing dozens of bottles inside.

“I could have done that!”

He chuckled warmly, “My dear, you would have shattered them.”

Hopefully it was good wine, because every bottle was the same. Knife still in hand, he twisted off the cork and tested the first sip. 

His face screwed up with bitterness, “Just give it a little time to breathe.”

Tittering at his reaction, Vistri yanked the bottle from his grasp and took an impatient sip. “It’s not… entirely rubbish,” she said, warily giving her judgment with a thoughtful expression.

“Give it a minute!” he laughed.

Defiantly, she took another sip.

“You little minx,” he smirked, snatching the bottle back. After setting it down on the floor, Astarion looped his fingers with hers. He sighed against her lips before kissing them. Vistri forgot all about the wine, even as their tongues tasted of it.

“Astarion,” she said, and he thought she was just saying his name until she continued, “Is there something else I can offer you to drink in the meantime?”

Her offer brought to mind the courtyard below. He was better than that because she allowed him to be better. She barely let him say it first, always begging to be drunk. In the way that other lovers would ask, Have you eaten today? Vistri tilted her neck and inquired if he wanted a bite.

Resting his forehead against hers, he said, “I am feeling a bit peckish.”

Vistri jumped blissfully into his arms. Her heart beat ecstatically in anticipation as Astarion brought her over to that table in the middle of the room. She felt like a cloth being draped across it. Her legs opened as he climbed over her.

Before he pierced her with his fangs, she pulled him into a rough kiss. His thigh pushed hers wider apart. He felt himself grind into her, his hips swaying in tune with hers. Their song eventually spilled off her tongue, and Astarion moaned too, making it a duet.

“Bite my lip,” she suggested.

Smiling, he submitted to her suggestion, as gently as he could. With the point of his fang, he sliced her open, groaning as the first drop of blood hit his tongue. Astarion feasted like a king among peasants. Vistri wriggled willingly, longingly under him. She kissed him as he sucked her lip and nibbled it, coaxing her nectar to trickle forward. While part of him reached a point of satisfaction, another starved. Ravenously, he pushed into her mouth. They passed her blood back and forth on shivering tongues.

“Astarion,” she sighed as he let go of her lip, and this time she was just saying his name.

Their fingers tumbled with their lacings; their knuckles clashing together in the rush to free themselves from their leathers.

“Can—?”

“Yes!�� she pleaded.

It felt like laying claim; to each other, this fortress, their power, and life itself. The tight, stretching ache of one another ripped through their senses with the thrust of his hips. Pleasure sighed through every pore, rushing like a white river over their skin.

Ecstasy erased their sense of self, dissolving them together in its realm. They were safe now. They could spend their lives this way. They were home.

Free.

Little did they know that table had been stashed there over a weak leg. It gave out from the power of their movements, and the whole thing collapsed. Shrieking as they fell, it turned to laughter as they realized neither were hurt.

“Are you okay?” she laughed, and he kissed her in response.

“I almost broke my dick!” he cackled breathily.

Vistri got up first, still giggling, and offered a hand, “Careful, you’re surrounded by wooden stakes.”

She was little help with how weak her limbs were, both from the edge of fulfillment, and their sudden shock that’d blossomed into overwhelming hilarity. They burst into another round of it when he slipped and almost fell back into a broken table leg. Vistri had to catch him with her spectral mage hand.

Stumbling over the trousers they’d pushed down to their thighs, they chased each other to another corner of the room. Astarion caught her and spun her around into an innocent kiss that easily descended into depravity.

His arms felt like mush and their muscles begged screaming for some rest, but Astarion lifted Vistri up again anyway to push her back into the wall. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, taking care not to leave bruises as others did. He hadn’t asked for that yet. But at his command, she’d tighten into a vice-grip and leave behind a physical reminder of their embrace.

Gravity turned the wall into a bed. Like the arches bearing their new home, they found a force and a balance when pressing together that held up their wary, rutting bodies. Staring into Vistri’s violet eyes, Astarion found himself falling into the abyss.

“Wait,” he absently whispered, slowing his movements.

Caressing his cheek, worry infecting her tone, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

His chuckle was a growl, “More like too right.” He kissed her and groaned, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Trapping her hips against the wall, he held them still and started to gradually rock his. Only allowing as much as the tip was a delicious torture.

“More,” she groaned.

As her desperation serenaded his ears, Astarion could feel her tightening and shivering around him, begging to fill her completely. He wanted to give in as much as she did. Controlling her was sweet, but controlling himself was even sweeter. His denial was power, and it subjugated both of them.

“Cum for me first, and I’ll give you more.”

Faster, he pumped in and out, growing in tempo until her screaming rang painfully in his ears. She was already on the verge of it, and seemed to let go at his command. Her pulsing pleasure was rough on his tender head, overly sensitized from repetitive penetration. Love and vice sparked through him and a wonderful pressure built behind his eyes.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. As Vistri surrendered to ecstasy, she dragged him along like a sweeping wave. She was still tapering off the feeling when, unable to wait, he finally buried himself to his root.

Unintelligibly crying out at his thrust, they quickly lost themselves. Gazing eye to eye, they saw past reds and purples into the depths of their exposed hearts. It overwhelmed them, like a cleric beholding their god. Together, they fell into fulfillment with a swooping terror that felt like losing one’s balance, and crashed into a brand-new plane of existence that banished all fear and held only the two of them.

Once they were back to reality, within these unfamiliar walls of their new dwelling, they sunk and sat up against the wall, holding each other tight. Vistri nuzzled her cheek against his and sighed with spent contentment.

“…You know you don’t have to stay,” Astarion said, his voice a shaking heart, “I-If you no longer wish to.”

The dreams already dying in his eyes in anticipation of his fears made her chest physically ache. Vistri caressed his beloved face without thought, just a need to save him from the horror.

“Oh, Astarion,” she chuckled sorrowfully, “Oh, my love.”

He closed his running eyes and felt her lips land softly across his cheekbones.

“I want you,” she whispered on his face, “All I want is you. Only you.”

Unable to bear witness to more of her affirmative words, he stopped them with a long, thankful kiss.

Her rare heart sat clearly in her expression. It was gift-wrapped, tied with red string, and addressed to him lovingly; his name written along the side.

“How dare I doubt you?”

“Exactly,” she giggled, “How dare you!”

Others still haunted their ability to convey and receive messages of genuine love. Having already pushed their limits, they sat embracing one another in pleasant silence.

Until Astarion muttered, “Almost forgot!” and got up to grab the wine they’d left over by the door.

Vistri excitedly ran after him, light on her feet like a fey.

Raising the bottle high between them, he toasted, “To our home.”

She took a smiling sip, then passed it back to Astarion. Swallowing felt like making a vow.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, no bitter flinch present in his expression after his swig.

“You were right,” she smirked warmly, “Some things are all the better for waiting.”

v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v                v---v

They figured the hard part would be the conquering, but that was more like Spawn City Tutorial. After the initial looting and corpse-burning, there were some celebrations. Then the real work came. Starting with turning the captured fortress into a real home. Scrubbing, mapping, sweeping, dusting, assessing masonry needs, livestock needs, stocking, mopping—Cleaning! Cleaning!

“Cleaning! Enough cleaning!” Astarion exclaimed one evening.

Vistri giggled wildly as he wrestled her for her scrub brush. Their excited shouts bounced sharply across the barren, ancient stone. Successfully snatching it away, he chucked it out of the nearby window.

Running over to the sill, she chuckled, “Darling, we’ll have to fetch that.”

He scoffed, “I’ll make Petras go fetch it.”

“You can’t always bully Petras,” she laughed.

“Yes, I can!”

Turning to Astarion with a cheeky smile, she leaned against the window and asked, “Do you remember this chamber?”

His pout overturned into a devilish smile. He knew exactly which chamber this was.

“Oh, I think about it daily,” he smirked, joining her over by the window.

He couldn’t read the expression in Vistri's eyes, they were so far away, but her distance seemed filled with possibility instead of escape.

“We have a house,” he repeated, just to hear it out loud again.

“We do! We have a house!”

Flinging an arm over her shoulder, Astarion looked out and surveyed the scenery below with his beloved.

“Well,” she stated shakily, “We did it.”

She turned to him with a beaming expression that shined so bright it was like the sun sat right here in the Underdark gloom. More than joy, there was want and adoration screaming through her eyes. To be its witness, no, to be the direction in which it was pointed, made his undead heart skip happily.

Their old tower loomed over the glow of wild mushrooms like a proud lord. Who knows how many had peered through the same window. Who knows if they would be the last, or if others would eventually come to conquer them too. Who would they be? And what would they think, looking out over the same shades of grey?

“I like it because it’s ours,” she said. Astarion shrugged her closer and blessed the side of her forehead with a rough peck.

He pulled something from his pockets with his free hand, “Do you have a light, my dear?”

Gale and Halsin weren’t the biggest smokers, but they were inventive ones. What started as a few collaborative pipe blends turned into a shared hobby, and they took to it with the enthusiasm of two middle-aged men who had recently discovered model chariots. Before parting for the Underdark, Waterdeep, or the Shadow Curse-no-more Lands, they’d left the remaining team with tears, bear hugs (figuratively and literally), and a few packets of pre-rolled parting gifts.

Instead of filling for a pipe, their masterwork blend was artfully wrapped up into a smokable stick, like a cigarillo. The casing was as well-crafted and loved as their herbal fungi blend, made of dried fruit peels and layered in with rose petals that were kept magically fresh.

Vistri asked them what the blend comprised of many times, and although it was no secret recipe, she’d always ask once the stogie was already lit. There was a bit of timmask dust in there for sure, but the herbs were lost to the blurry memory of their excitedly recited list. The elevated joy that sparkled in Gale and Halsin’s eyes as they spoke stood out to her more than their words.

“You have the most brilliant ideas,” she smiled.

“I know,” he smirked, placing the stick between his lips.

Astarion leaned over as she snapped her thumb, making a small flame shoot out of it in the way Karlach taught her. Cupping his hands around it, he met her fire and inhaled. Tufts of smoke blew out the end of the cig, and drifted in tendrils from Astarion’s nose like a dragon’s breath.

Taking it between two noble fingers, he passed the gift from his lips to hers. Vistri smiled and took an eager pull. She coughed on her exhale, making Astarion giggle.

More than euphoria, the instant effect brought a giddy sort of security. Nothing was wrong with them or the world, a state they’d only found in each other’s embrace. It was nice to live in for a little while, and taught them existence isn’t inherently bad or painful.

Looking out the window, Astarion remarked, “I don’t think Petras could even run that far.”

Vistri’s chortle was so sudden she almost snorted, “Of course he can!”

“Poor fucker would get lost and need a break every few steps. Unless he had Dalyria with him, of course. Then maybe the five minute walk would be such, and not turn into a tenday’s journey across the yard.”

Too thick in the midst of giggling to answer, Vistri went for another puff and ended up choking on the smoke.

“Heavens! Are you ever gonna learn how to hit that?”

Over a series of coughs, Vistri fought to speak, “Astarion! ”

He grabbed the open wine they’d snuck into their cleaning session and handed it to her, “Have a drink of something. You sound awful!”

Suppressing another cough, she took a defiant swig.

“Good. Now pass that my way—Not the wine! You keep that. That funny, little cigar.”

As he took another puff, Vistri regained her breath and said, “It’s too small to be a cigar.”

Astarion, being Astarion, heard small and cigar in a sentence, and jumped on the cliche, “My, my! Imagine being told its too small to be considered a willy.”

“Astarion!—And don’t you dare take another jab at Petras! Poor Petras.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about Petras in that regard!”

“Because you know,” she said, raising her brow and reaching for the cig, “I bet he has a big—”

“Can we not talk about my brother’s Todd Johnson?”

She could barely breathe, “Todd Johnson?! ”

Wrestling her for another smoke, Astarion fell into her laughter until his ribs started to ache. Growing weak from it, he gave up the fight and sat back wiping his eyes. Vistri finally passed it over, grinning victoriously.

He placed the dwindling cigarillo between his teeth and flashed a smile to meet hers. Then with a cat-like pounce, suddenly bent to throw her over his shoulder. 

Upside-down her cackling reflected off the floor and continued bouncing between the ceiling and walls. Most of the furniture that was in the room previously had been dumped or moved elsewhere. Sound carried louder and longer than it had the day before, making their laughter haunt the stone like specters.

They could have been a thousand lovers.

“Sit with me, darling,” he cooed, his words slurred with the cig still tucked between his teeth. Halfway gone, it was now just a little longer than his fangs when fully-retracted, about to bite.

Two other chairs remained, but he chose their favorite. Its upholstery had a fresh, weathered look that reminded them of Astarion’s old clothes. Well-tended to with a consistent, loving hand, its rich fabrics held on despite their decay. It made them wonder which discarded body in the courtyard those hands had belonged to.

At least their life’s work wasn’t wasted. Lovers now took it as their preferred perch. They sat so lazily on it, it seemed to swallow them.

With another puff, Astarion released a thick ring of smoke into the air in front of them. Vistri rewarded his trick with kisses to his cheek and a round of applause, delighted by the way it slowly floated by.

“Every day your mouth shows me new wonders.”

“Does it?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss with a raised brow.

“Mmmm, it does.”

Placing a hand along her hip, he commanded, “Face me.”

Moving to straddle him, Vistri turned and settled over his lap. Her thighs spread wide over his; her knees sunk into the cushion cracks. The way she centered her balance over his middle sent another kind of high coursing through their senses. Reaching for the stick smoking in his hands, she wove her fingers into his to smoothly steal it.

A glint in her eyes, she inhaled. Letting the smoke slowly crash over his face, she leaned in to place her mouth on his and blow the rest of her hit into it. Astarion moaned, tasting her under the heavy scent of burning plants.

“How considerate of you,” he exhaled, grinning.

“I try my best.”

Pushing her hair back, Astarion looked suddenly thoughtful, “Do you ever wish it were just us?”

“All the time,” she chuckled, “But they need us. You know they do.”

He raised his eyebrow, “To their credit, none of them have tried to steal a bite.”

“I think that credit is due more to my magic and your promised fury.”

“Maybe a little of that too,” he smirked.

Warmly, she planted a kiss on his forehead. A silent, I’m so proud of you.

As reluctantly as Astarion played it, Vistri knew he relished his new role. It was important to him to be better than Cazador, but more than that, she knew he needed them all to get better together. That’s just the type of person he was, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

Another smoke ring danced in the air above their heads. Then a series of smaller ones.

Vistri was beaming at him, “Look at you, love. So amazing.”

“You’re very high.”

She snickered, “No, I’m not!”

“It’s okay, my dear,” he chuckled, “I’m right there with you.”

They broke into ugly laughter that clashed like two very different songs being played poorly on the same stage. Their ridiculous levity sounded like the echoing cries of some cursed reptilian god.

The stone thanked them for silence when Astarion took her lips between his. With gently rocking hips, he showed Vistri the extent of his desire. She was wanted, needed. Craved.

“You make me feel like a king,” he whispered along the crook of her jaw. Then chuckling, he continued, “I know how it sounds, of course. But I don’t know other words to say it. Not now.”

Her hands glided over his chest, rubbing it in absent-minded patterns, “I am a most willing subject.”

“Are you, now?” he asked, knowing the answer from the warble in her voice.

At the nodding of her head, Astarion untied his laces. He watched Vistri take another inhale of their dying nub. Cool air defied the heat he felt in the oven of their laps as he pulled his twitching dick free of his breeches.

The old robes she wore allowed for easy access, and she adjusted them to tent over their laps. Pulling one hand in through her sleeve, she caressed his cock. Pressing his silky skin against her rolling hips, Astarion gasped pleasantly at the brushing of her lace knickers. He brought a hand of his own to keep under her robes. His finger gently traced its patterns, feeling her labia thicken under it from his gradual strokes.

Vistri hadn’t planned for a moment like this. She figured she’d feel better wearing such plain rags if her finest knickers hid beneath them. The delighted surprise in his expression almost disappointed her. He should really know her better by now.

Rubbing each other under her robes, they passed the last of their treat back and forth with their free hands. On the final pull, Astarion brought her close to share it. Her exhale turned into a kiss; his tongue shyly met the tip of hers.

“Is it all right?” she asked, “We’re quite intoxi—”

He didn’t even mean to interrupt her. The consideration in her query was a splash of oil on his fire, further igniting the blaze.

“It’s all right,” he kissed her, “Are you all—”

“Yes,” she nodded, still unbelievingly grateful for his returned care.

Her eager hips rolled into his teasing finger. Arousal coated the inside of her knickers. It was beginning to soak through to his skin. He moaned, and pulled the bunching lace tight so her folds spilled over the sides, swallowing the string of lace between them. Grabbing his cock, he rubbed his head against her wet skin and the rough line of lace that ran down her middle.

“I could burst just from this,” he sighed.

His finger slipped under the lace, pulling it taught like one of his bows. Upon releasing it, her cry sounded in tune with its smack. She was caught prey, waiting only for death.

Placing her roughly used knickers aside, he lined himself up against her soak. As he pushed in, Vistri lowered herself to take in his length. Gasping from the squeeze and stretch, their high made every familiar ecstasy ten times brighter. Riding each other’s waves, they sunk into multiverses of gluttonous sensation.

“Shit. You feel like magic.”

“I am magic.”

Chuckling together in their embrace, their rutting didn’t cease.

It got faster. Harder.

Deeper. Like they were digging to the core of each other, prying open the gilded chest that housed their very souls.

Climax came over them so strongly it made their lips pull back and shiver. Pulsing together, their shouts dissipated to whines; bliss stuffing their throats.

Fighting overstimulation, they maintained a slow rocking of their hips. Not wanting to stop. Ever. His seed started to spill out of her from their movements and pool over his balls. From whence we came, we shall return.

Astarion thought the joke was too delicious not to share.

Pointing to the mess, he recited, “From whence we came, we shall return.”

Vistri laughed so hard, she tripped going to fetch them a fresh rag.

They made out after casually cleaning each other up.

Passionately, like lovestruck teenagers who’d just discovered it. Loving words and adoring vows came tumbling out of the hot ache. Promises for this new life; dedicating joy to each other’s names.

As sudden as it started, it stopped. Their furious need became a tight embrace, like fingers grasping the edge of a cliff. Beating together in sorrowful song, their hearts found an impossible happiness; a new music.

“I think I rather like this room,” he said in a tone that was light despite its heaviness.

Humming pleasantly, Vistri nuzzled into his chest, “Let’s make it ours then.”

A room of their own. Their chambers.

“We already have," Astarion chuckled, "A couple times, in fact.”

[lyscot-blog]

Dwarves are not meant for magic

Specifically in the case of Dungeon Meshi (but also some other high fantasy media).

The lowest energy limit out of all the races, and ears, so sensitive that teleportation magic will spin them to nausea. Built to stay far away from magic, either by fear, hatred or the unknown.

That is unfortunate.

I love Senshi and Marcille bond. I hate the idea that dwarves and elves are forever incompatible. Gimli and Legolas should prove people otherwise. Yet the two races are always going to be separated unless a human comes between them. War and argument will always happen for these two races (in media I read of course).

But I love to be proved wrong, that yes, dwarves and elves can be friends. Senshi and Marcille began as two statues never moving from their position. The pragmatic and wise Senshi vs the wary and knowledgeable Marcille. Marcille grows to trust Senshi and find comfort in his food (whether she likes it or not). Senshi develop an open mind to methods, knowledge and bond that he would never have encountered have he not met Marcille (and the group!). Senshi, who trust his own mind to let him survive and escape out of the dark and bloody magical dungeon. Finds trust in magic for the first time (it seems).

Senshi finds trust in someone that he should not trust. Even if proven right that magic is outright dangerous and Marcille will go power hungry, he still cares.

Chapter 14 of Dungeon Meshi is one of my favorite, I will not go into further details but spoilers warning ahead. At the end of the chapter, Senshi finds comfort in magic, not usage, but comfort. To be given a new experience by his friend, an elf. Surely moving forward into the manga, Senshi trusts Marcille on magic and can even find them practical. But Senshi can never emulate his friend because Dwarves are not meant for magic.

But, what if under desperation, there is no possible way to ignite fire, the fire circle that Marcille use would be useful right? Crossing a kelpie infested river, surely waterwalk would feel nice, right? Senshi is stubborn but he likes to adapt and learn, but it's sad that he could not for magic.

In the world of Dungeon Meshi, your friend, the dwarf wants to learn what you do, magic. But they could not even if they want to. A dwarf who dreams of becoming a mage is ridiculous, it's a pipe dream, it's unfortunate. But low magic affinity does not mean there is no magic affinity. Your friend, the dwarf just has to work harder than others, but even so the ceiling might just be lower than their height.

But do imagine a dwarf mage and the potential it can bring. The obvious would be the detection of precious ores in mines and the crafting of magical weapons (a sweet deal to adventurers alike!). But do also imagine, the dwarf crafting earpiece for teleportation. They can come together to provide guides and methods for those who are struggling with learning magic or for dwarves who are unknown to magic. But most importantly, seeing that the stubbornness of dwarves are as stubborn as elves. The rocky stronghold of dwarves was carved from the same ground that grows the fortress of elves.

Dwarves in general are not meant for magic, but some (one in a million) are.

[goosiegoos]

I managed to capture a tame and a large amount of these little red imps. They’ve since become massively popular pets in my fortress and we regularly breed and sell them. 

Easily one of the more underlooked aspects of Dwarf Fortress are the cavern wildlife on account if it being minor spoilers

art source: http://www.androidarts.com/df/dorf.htm

[felassan]

Thoughts/wonderings on Dragon Age: The Missing #2, under a cut due to spoilers for The Missing (not just #2) and for the recent leaks:

Overall I think issue 2 was more interesting and more exciting than issue 1. I don't mean this in a bad way about issue 1; it's just that issue 1 had a lot of catching up to do ('here's what's happened since you were last in Thedas') and setup both for Varric&Harding (they should open a detective agency together)'s current quest and for future issues in this series. that was quite a lot of setup and the comic issues only have a few pages. now in Issue 2, the story is properly starting off and the plot thickens etc.

continuing the theme of issue 1 (which is: Varric Is Having A Very Bad And Terrible Time), this issue opens with Varric groaning and cursing. it really is like this huh.. "shit", he says, while.. stepping in shit.. it's eponymous. eponymous suffering.

change in art style and artist from issue 1. if memory serves, Fernando Heinz Furukawa is the artist who worked on some previous DA comics such as Dark Fortress and Blue Wraith. here's Varric portrayed by Fernando in Knight Errant:

and here's Varric now in The Missing #2

it's day and night! he looks Older and more tired, and also maybe redesigned (outfit, scar etc). if this comic is set around 9:52 or shortly beforehand, he's over 50 years old now since he was born in 9:1. according to this tweet of Fernando's, it wasn't Fernando who did a redesign, BioWare had sent along the reference for Varric for this comic. are we looking at Varric's DA:D Era (Dad Era..) Redesign? is this how he'll look in DA:D? if so why did he look the same as usual in issue 1 - was it a recent decision of BioWare's that happened after issue 1 had been illustrated but before 2 was drawn? or is it just differing art styles between issues - I notice that each of the 4 issues of this comic has a different artist. it will be someone else again in issue 3, so I'll guess we'll find out based on what he looks like in issue 3 :) also, a different artist for each issue is an interesting choice - is it to showcase as many different peoples' talents as possible?

We don't see much of Vyrantium in this issue but from what we do see I think it looks cool

Harding's hair is definitely red/orange here. in one leak the person wrote that there was a rogue lady dwarf party member. in another the person implied via emoji codes (hh) that one of the companions that they saw is a lady with red hair. with these in mind plus Harding's presence and appearance in this DA:D lead-in comic, I wanna speculate that Harding is a companion in DA:D. if Harding is and Varric isn't, I'd be down with that! I'd rather he isn't a companion again, and this setup would provide a lady dwarf companion, an ascended extra (see: Cole, Merrill etc), and the familiar returning face/Inquisition representative on the team without filling up a slot with someone who has already had a turn at being a companion. maybe, like Charter says in issue 1, Varric builds the team, but instead of joining it in person himself, it's Harding who joins the DA:D roster and he's around doing some stuff in the background like giving quests or advising or something. Varnick Fury...

last time we checked in on the Qunari invasion of Tevinter, they had invaded Neromenian (Dark Fortress). before that they invaded Carastes (Blue Wraith) and Ventus/Qarinus (Deception). now the Antaam have progressed towards Vyrantium and are laying siege to it. this shows the passage of time between our looks at Thedas and that that the world isn't static, and it keeps building the backdrop in Tevinter of the Antaam invasion as a potential background plotpoint for DA:D (reminds me of the mage-templar war in the background of DA:I). the Tevinters don't seem to be having much luck in this war, losing city after city to the Antaam.

looking at this progress map below, I'm reminded of this line from Dread Wolf Take You in Tevinter Nights: "I fear everything east of Vyrantium will be under their control inside a year, and northern Antiva as well", said by the Mortalitasi at the meeting Charter attended. we're seeing this come to pass now, and if it roughly followed that projected timescale it gives us a bit of insight into when Charter's meeting with Solas in TN took place relative to the effective prologue to DA:D (this comic). if the Antaam keep this up, I guess the next settlement is Marnas Pell and then onto Asariel. Minrathous has famously never fallen to siege or invasion. I guess you could still effectively choke a country by capturing all of its other cities besides the main one though. maybe the plan is to take the rest and Minrathous would be the last hold out? its food supplies in the Catacombs will only last a year

"You think Solas would have crawled through a city's worth of shit to get here?" felt like a bookend to Varric's comment in the previous issue, "It fits, though. A refuge in the ass end of nowhere is exactly Solas’s style". at this point varric sounds like he's talking about an ex who jilted him lmao. and probably not, Varric, he's probably fast-travelling around as it suits him via the eluvian network. I thought the highlighting of sense of timing, how long it took them to get there, how rough the road there was and the obstacles they went through to reach their destination was interesting. maybe it's a precursor (for the sake of creating contrast) to the possible upcoming 'travelling around via eluvians' stuff from the recent leak? to the possible plotpoint of 'here's how the Inquisition remnants have eluvian access now'? it's taken them weeks to walk from Marnas Pell to Vyrantium, which gives a sense of the scale of Thedas and emphasizes travel time outside of in-game 'fast travel' mechanics. Solas is basically leading them on a wild goose chase in this comic series all over Tevinter. given his effective teleportation relative to their having to walk for weeks to get between cities, he has them at a massive disadvantage.

new locations in the lore: Armael Hills, Wava River/Wava River crossing. given that they have travelled from Marnas Pell to Vyrantium, these must be places in Tevinter.

"food poisoning" ye sure okay bud. at the end of issue 1, Varric was after a stiff drink. this panel is a smart bit of continuity from that, and also, BioWare must have fully known what they were doing with this panel lmao.. on a serious note though I hope Varric is doing okay like, and this was just a hangover after a celebration like he says, rather than part of his recent tired/sad/kinda strugglin vibe. otherwise coupled with his older tireder more haggard look it reminds me a bit of Ser Aaron which is sad to think about :( (RIP)

lmao the valet was really like "You? The noble famous Viscount of Kirkwall? but you're so scrungly, stinky and oldlooking.. No. It can't be so. Bye"

if Lady Crysanthus has been 'indisposed' for months it means Solas was here months ago. that's confirmed when they mention about how the bedroom hasn't been used in months. they're so many steps behind him and would continue to be - the walking distance between Vyrantium and Arlathan Forest is even further than that between Marnas Pell and Vyrantium.

I enjoyed how their cover story was "Hi I'm Varric", they walked straight up to the front door, showed themselves and told him who they were, and then broke in talking about how they're supposed to be being subtle lmao. (also that setup for the house going up in flames at the end and condemning the lady's husband to death so dramatically, LOL subtle indeed. I guess it was them being ironic). so knocking on the door was Harding's suggested approach, Varric had initially suggested breaking in and they decided to try Harding's way first. that's nice, it contrasts them as characters and carries on that idea from their discussion in issue 1 about their two different suggested ways for approaching/dealing with stuff/Solas if they found him

so about Varric's redesign, he has speed stripes now/salt and pepper hair, and where/when did he get that big serious scar? also would you take Varric's hand and trust him, even though he's like, a pathological liar? after that panel i would ok

their dynamic is cute

Tevinter architecture is cool (red glass windows) and I like those lil Tevinter wind chime looking things. inside the bedroom there are serpents coiling around the bed posts.

Harding was right after all, and had the smarts to check under the sheet. she looks shook when they discover Crysanthus. and no wonder, of course the only person they know who can turn people to stone is Solas. from the lady's outstretched 'Stop!' arm and scared facial expression, it doesn't look like she and Solas were having a pleasant conversation when he did this.

that wall mural... lmao. the dog looks kind of like a mabari, which I guess I could see since they originated in Tevinter. my random obscure headcanon is that this ~Decadence~ mural is supposed to, by in-universe artists, depict the golden age of the Imperium when it ruled most of Thedas and before the mabari defected to the 'barbarians' of the south hh

shoutout again to Harding's cool looking cape

Teia and Viago!!!! as the front cover prophecy foretold!! man we knew it was coming but i still went OOOOOO at them appearing. their entrance and they in general was/are so cool. they look amazing!!

wing-like motif on their outfits, fitting for Crows :) hh, Harding knows immediately that they are Crows. also "subtle".. :)

lmao he's so done

I enjoyed the banter back and forth at this point, it was fun :)

Harding's freckles 🥺

The question is, who put out this contract on Crysanthus to the Crows and why? it must have been a pretty big deal (the person who took out the contract and/or the reason for taking it out), otherwise what are two Talons from two different Houses doing on a job in Tevinter when the Antaam is currently invading Antiva and we know from TN that the Crows including Teia and Viago (Eight Little Talons) were going to be taking the defense of Antiva seriously?

So the Inquisition remnants are still basically "The Inquisition" when it comes to name-dropping, and Varric 'my cover is hi I'm Varric also I'm gonna break in now' Tethras has no qualms about telling a pair of Crows they've just met that they're working with the Inquisition. whereas he omits mentioning Solas specifically by name. I guess "Inquisition" is an easier sell than "The Dread Wolf"

also interesting, why are the Crows concerned about a Tevinter mage possibly working with the Venatori, or about the Venatori planning a possible concerted move against the Imperium, or about stopping that? I'm reminded of TN where we learned that a mysterious patron had contracted the Crows to kill a bunch of prominent Venatori (Lucanis' story). some of the Venatori were scared about that, particularly of the aforementioned notorious Crow, "The Demon", who had been doing a lot of these contracts. the Venatori said that they wouldn't cower to foreign mercs like the Crows. and it was implied that the anonymous hirer was elfy, as they gave Lucanis assistance/info about a magic secret passage inside a statue of a vhenadahl, the passage of which was lit with veilfire and guarded by an elf, Athima, who was sent by their patron. then Lucanis died or "died" and we saw his wake, which Teia and Viago were at. and now here are Teia and Viago in Tevinter on a contract job to take out yet another Venatori/Venatori collaborator. are they continuing where Lucanis left off? Crows, the Venatori, and Solas... curiouser and curiouser

the fight scenes in this comic were cool. Varric at one point doesn't even draw Bianca, he just socks someone in the face like POW

Viago with his poisoned rapier/poisons again, ice cold but also like, what a nerd

when the secret door opens Harding is like > :) hhh

when the valet says "You've killed us all just by being here", is it Lady Crysanthus' husband that he's thinking about or someone else? the Venatori? the person who turned the lady to stone?

so Lady Crysanthus was a spymaster who had records and notes on many known Venatori agents, as well as maps and papers relating to their plans to get a magical artifact/magical weapon called the Crucious Stone out of Arlathan Forest. she was also helping Venatori operate in Tevinter. given this, why would she invite Solas to come and talk to her? their mutual interest in the Stone? was the invitation even for Solas, or did he or whoever was using the room in the Deep Roads get it from the person it was actually supposed to be for after he/they got wind of this scheme?

the Stone can bring the Imperium to its knees. that would explain why the Venatori, who are apparently plotting a move against the Imperium (to.. make it great again? I guess they have to take it down or take it over before they can make it great again?), would want it. Solas isn't a fan of the Imperium - is he interested in this Stone because he'd also like to impact Tevinter, or because he needs to use the Stone's powers for his plans relating to the Veil or similar? (I'd think more the latter than the former) Any relation to, or how does it tie in to, the Orb or the idol?

Also I wonder about the specifics of the stone's powers. to bring the whole Imperium to its knees.. we must be talking blood magic? I'd guess? plus some Veil wibbly-wobbly Fadey stuff too, if the last page of the comic is anything to go by. also, the shape of the stone reminds me of the sarcophagus from Dark Fortress. that artifact was of unknown origin but built to fit an elf and there were some possibly elfy aspects to its design..

"Monologue about it, who knows?" // "Is this a contract or an old flame?" // "Well..." killed me hhhh

Viago asking the Important Questions

Stone Fist

Teia is badass

nice group takedown, again a party with majority dwarves and elves :)

Varric's one liner while the guy stabbed through the wrist crushed by a broken statue of his beloved departed wife while he burns to death is. stone cold.

this time around there's a reason why they didn't gather up a bunch of papers/books from the Secret Den, it was going up in flames and they had to escape. makes sense. I still wonder why they didn't take those books with them from the Deep Roads room in issue 1 hh.

in the panel where they are back outside on the streets of Vyrantium, the column of smoke from the burning house can be seen in the background going up into the sky, and off to the right in green is the figure that Teia clocks in the next panels.

Cat

presumably the possible Venatori assassin is the Venatori we saw tailing Varric&Harding at the end of issue 1.

Varric and Harding leave Teia and Viago on a positive note which is nice. I hope we meet them for a bit in DA:D :)

also since it was confirmed that the characters in this comic are Teia and Viago, I think again about the 'this comic is introducing us/re-introducing us to various factions/groups who are players on the chess-board or otherwise of note in DA:D' idea. Issue 1 had Wardens, 2 the Crows, 3 looks to be the Veil Jumpers. also since it was Teia and Viago, I'm also once again wondering if the two Veil Jumpers will be Strife and Irelin, who we know are in a Dalish clan that lives in/near Arlathan Forest. (also I enjoyed the confirmation in this comic that a few/multiple Dalish clans live in Arlathan Forest. those clans, like Morlyn, sound super interesting due to the magical/ancient nature of the Forest)

About the last page of the comic, the tree branches give an elfy vibe, and that structure in the distance being upside down gives a Fadey and/or Arlathan Forest's current time/space topsyturvyness vibe. could the archway in the structure be an eluvian? is this how they get eluvian travel? is this what's in the heart of Arlathan Forest, or is it somewhere in there where the Veil is thin and the time/space reality warping has influenced things? did Dalish elves build those walkways?

the synopsis for Issue 3 is as follows:

Following their adventure in Vyrantium, Varric, and Harding travel to Arlathan Forest in search of the crucious stone. When the duo finds themselves face-to-face with a pair of Veil Jumpers, they decide to team up. Finding what they seek will have them up against puzzling obstacles, and their success could depend on the allies they can gather.

this is the issue in this comic that I'm most excited about. I'm so hyped to meet the Veil Jumpers AAAAAA!! [cat.yodeling.png]

[agonius]

it's hilarious that df will let you automine this

[fanelectricboogieloo]

Ok so finally finish that helmad run I started a few days ago. the Minotaur has finally arrived at the Dwarven queen's fort from hell and had delivered the Adamantine throne

the process to pull this off took like pushing the limit of the nomad set up with how many embark spaces the game would let me, and finding out that if you keep setting the site size to be 1x20 or 20x1 a bunch you could push it to 40 or 50 I think I had one time where I hit 100 embark spaces ... but usually I also just crash the game in an attempt to load the next really large map chunk. the cavern layer kinda took a hit during the accelerated speed and loaded in normal grass tiles in the cavern layer. would say the experience was like playing Desert bus but in Dwarf fortress than playing Oregon trail.

oh and the dwarves that were in the cage were let out and they all dashed towards the food stockpiles and the site's tavern for drinks.

well lesson learn it's possible to nomad it across the world though it probably saner on my behalf to just void fort it next time I need to travel great distances

[autistic-autumn]

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This blog is a general mix of whatever I feel like posting. I tend to post a lot about In Stars and Time right now, but do also post a lot of Undertale/Deltarune, Omori and whatever else seems interesting. Please take this into consideration if you are coming here from Kittybroker. This very much is a personal nonsense blog.

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I do a lot of music stuff as well, although I don't tend to share on this blog. I tend to mostly work in contemporary classical but do like music generally. I do a lot of notational music and am well versed if you have questions on music notation. Additionally I am very familiar with a lot of standard orchestral music and instruments and their idiom.

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Tags: #Autumn's Art - For the rare occasion I attempt to draw or do anything else art related #Autumn's Thought's - For miscellaneous #Autumn's Music Ramblings - For long ramble posts about music I typically don't tag reblogs with anything for sorting unless there is a good reason to. If there is specific trigger warnings and such I should add to my own posts then do tell me. I am not entirely sure generally what to add and where.

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I additionally run a small ISAT discord anyone is free to join. Be aware it isn't very spoiler free however.

As mentioned, I don't ever do midi or digital music, at least not these days. I do have a number of older works stored on soundcloud, and on the case I ever do any digital music the link is here:

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Any other links with my name are either not relevant, inactive, or not me at all.

[kobblefort]

Rushsly: Almost The Bottom 3

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT probably I can't script this shit man I'm liveblogging this game raw it happens how it happens.

Ant people are back, and they're getting pretty thoroughly fucked by Ashan Plaguehole the Labyrinthine, or at least that's what it sounds like through the walls deep below the fortress. Cool. We'll check in on that again later

Even the deep-dwelling dwarves are astounded by the wealth we've accrued: we sell them the platinum goblets that feel too fancy to drink out of, they gawk at just how many gems we've accrued, how finely they can be cut. And yet we must seem strange to them, so endowed and yet so deeply unsatisfied. Most of our clothes have gone to tatters from overwear, our once thriving glass industry has been dormant for some time. It's nothing, we insist, it's nothing - but our eyes don't light up at the glint of gold. We seem sluggish, almost like we're moving at a low framerate, take a little too long to recognize jokes, and even longer after that to recognize them. We leave them with a great handful of gems we find unworthy to sell, and they thank us profusely. When all is said and done, we have a great deal of thread, new clothes for at least a few kobbles, plants of all kinds, and kobble get chease LOL.

Down below, it turns out Ashan can wield a spear, and does so with remarkable prowess: a wood spear is plenty sharp enough for its ends,

and so too for the ends of 13 ant people, a giant bat and a giant olm. I've never actually seen a forgotten beast wield a weapon before. It almost seems like it would be exciting to fight: a good match for our own Beast Slayers. But we can't take our eye off the prize.

From the other end of the second cavern layer arrives another bird (even though it has the squid icon lol,) a wren named Lidod Minesweats - probably a Dwarven name? Also I completely missed this when it happened, but Ashan apparently killed Ancoji Necroshafts, the lizard that finished off Fiva after his own encounter with the ant people from before, I wonder if a pattern is about to take shape here.

They head straight for each other.

Unfortunately, since they're both forgotten beasts, the combat log is unintelligible, but Ashan takes the wren the fuck down; not without taking some damage, most notably having an impaired ability to stand.

I forgot to look it up but this is an ankylosaurus apparently, so Ashan looks like this but green and with thin membranous wings and it's "bloated." We all on the same page here? Ok me neither. But alas.

Zhasrca Foldcounselled is way the fuck in there, near the very bottom of the earth, chopping away at the stone, only hitting granite after granite after granite. Then he finally hits something!

Just some more native gold. Just as he does, he declares himself finished for the day and tears off his busted old ocelot-leather trousers, hopefully to pick up a new pair on his way home. But interestingly, the gold wall is warm - potentially unsafe to dig through, since there could be magma on the other side. And then, up topside...

Well fuck.

The dwarves said they would leave a while ago, but hadn't yet, and so the fighting is mostly contained to them, but unfortunately, a craftsbold named Zirga Futurestrayed who was on her way up to chat with them was bitten. There's nothing for it, we're just going to have to expel her as soon as the fighting is over. Hopefully the dwarves actually fucking leave, but due to how long it took for anyone to pull the drawbridge up, two of them and a donkey are crushed by it. Awesome. People need to stop just standing there on the fucking bridge.

I have no idea how to parse this, but it feels like this guy Vucar could maybe sort of be bit? Considering how he won't fucking leave, it becomes tempting to just send our squads up there and kill him to make extra sure, but he's standing on a tile with two other dwarves who seem fine according to the combat logs. Ultimately, the problem is solved by just deconstructing the trade depot. And I learn as they leave the map that apparently one of them stole one of our platinum goblets. Not cool dude. Actually, that might have been Zirga leaving with all her horrible injuries, which... fair enough. You can have that. Sorry it had to be this way but the alternative was we kill you. And we didn't kill you! But if you come back in weregecko form there'll be no fucking mercy, not a chance. Whatever, threat over.

Progress is slow and frustrating down here: just magma walls with the occasional little vein of gems. Every little rattle of the alert tabs is a disappointment. Morion, pitchblende, heliodors, I don't give a shit. I just want the one thing. I know there's all sorts of other things I could have but I don't want them. More migrants show up, bringing our population up to 135 and our framerate down to like 49. They also brought a fuckload of animals for whatever reason, which is just great of them. Deleting the trade depot somehow handed over possession of all the animals the dwarves brought along to us...

and the underground pasture is starting to look even more crowded, so it's time it gets expanded. But hey we all love when things get expanded right.

Zil, still the angriest lil kobble in the whole fucking world, comes up and starts just digging with its hands, which feels totally unnecessary especially since Zil is the one who got its lower spine torn apart. Oh well go off I guess, who gives a shit, this isn't what I want.

Trying to dig one more layer down is a fruitless endeavor at first.

Up in the section of the fort I don't even care about anymore some dickhead makes a large gem out of green glass and decorates it with green glass gems and green glass rings. I feel like that sums this whole fort up. We should put it on a display stand outside so you can see it when you walk in, like "guess what we got in here."

I seriously can't fucking win dude

Gold, gems, magma, gold, gems, magma, gold, gems, magma it goes on and on forever.

More of these cunts, i don't care, drawbridge going up, drawbridge staying up. If you're in a hurry to step on a cage trap, then hurry up and do it already, otherwise go fuck yourselves and give Vakeek Malignreason my regards.

Welp so much for those fucking cunts wait hold on what the fuck is this

I've never seen this before. Is it about to happen? Am I almost there?

Do you fucking morons ever give it a rest I'm on the fucking precipice here

well the meat grinder awaits.

Oh not you guys too.

At least none of my own people are in danger here, but the Winged Voice left in a bad mood due to the drawbridge being up without considering why it might be up, and I don't like guests having to do our dirty work. There's such a thing as hospitality you know.

And honestly having to walk through this fucked up part of the trap hallway entrance is something I don't even want my kobbles to do.

Honestly whatever may as well get rid of these fucking pointless gems. Hopefully get some cloth and leather to give all the kobbles new clothes. It's not what I want.

But I don't know if I'm the kind of guy who can ever actually have what he wants.