#gaoler h

[loquaciousquark]

Cazador's Ritual Runes, Translated

Inner: AMPLIFY + HIM + FLOW + EMPOWR [sic] Middle: WE OFFER THE FORCE OF LIFE Outer: WE GATHER HERE TO INVOKE THE POWER OF BLOD [sic]

Mephistopheles can't spell for beans.

(Detailed analysis & conjecture regarding this text, the Rite of Profane Ascension, & Astarion's translated scars under the cut.)

The second ring was the easiest, as the characters are very similar to Latin letters and clearly read out "WE OFFER THE FORCE OF LIFE." Characters were now known for C, E, F, H, I, L, O, R, T, and W. It wasn't clear yet if there were cases.

I was struggling with the first ring, though after decoding the second, I could get a likely "_M_LIF_ + _IM + _LOW + EM_OWR". Guessing the character for P, Y, and A based on context gave me "AMPLIFY + _IM + _LOW + EMPOWR", but I had doubts over the first characters for words two and three. I suspected they would be HIM and FLOW, but the H and F characters didn't match the H from the second ring's "THE" or the F from "AMPLIFY". Also, "empower" was misspelled, which made me pause.

Abandoning those for a moment, the third ring mapped well onto "WE _ATHER HERE TO I__O_E THE _OWER OF _LO_". Ruling out known letters which were not present, I could guess "WE GATHER HERE TO I__O_E THE POWER OF _LO_", but again the P from "POWER" was not the same as the P from "AMPLIFY" in the inner ring. However, it was very, very similar, and nothing else fit, so I committed, now suspecting there were capital versions of some letters included in the text.

At this point I went digging for resources. I found a copy of an Infernal alphabet on the Forgotten Realms wiki, and while it looks like the typeface Larian used is a bespoke creation for the game rather than a 1:1 copy of this alphabet, the letters for lowercase G, N, K, B, and D were nearly identical. Y (from AMPLIFY) also matched perfectly, confirming that earlier guess. This gave a clear "WE GATHER HERE TO INVOKE THE POWER OF BLOD."

This resulted in: AMPLIFY + _IM + _LOW + EMPOWR WE OFFER THE FORCE OF LIFE WE GATHER HERE TO INVOKE THE POWER OF BLOD

Looking at the wiki for capital letters, the only ones I could find which might reasonably fit the _IM missing character (assuming the Larian alphabet was based off this wiki typography) were A, B, H, O, T, V, and Y. Of those choices, only AIM, HIM, TIM, and VIM were words, and as cheesy as Cazador is, I couldn't imagine him saying AMPLIFY TIM FLOW EMPOWR. Given the alternatives, HIM was the only choice which made sense.

I went through the same process for _LOW, but this character seems unmatchable to me. By far it looks the most like the E from the Infernal alphabet, with maybe a capital Y being a distant second. However, ELOW and YLOW are certainly not words, and absent all other comparatives, the character in question does resemble a fancy F. Barring other languages, FLOW with a capital or unique F fits best.

AMPLIFY + HIM + FLOW + EMPOWR WE OFFER THE FORCE OF LIFE WE GATHER HERE TO INVOKE THE POWER OF BLOD

I did double-check the texts available in Cazador's mansion just to make sure this hadn't been translated elsewhere (after I'd done all the work, of course), and the only written text of relevance is from the Black Mass scroll you find near Vellioth's skull. It reads:

The Rite of Profane Ascension Oh, piteous dead! Oh, ravenous dead! Immortality is your gift, but darkness is your prison and hunger its gaoler. The Rite of Profane Ascension will release you. Walk in the sun. Suffer not from hunger. Grow your power beyond anything you imagined. A pact has been made with the Lord of Hellfire. Deliver unto him seven thousand souls, each bearing an Infernal mark, and you shall be free of your chains. You shall know true power. Deliver the souls. Speak the words. Ecce dominus, Has animas offero in sacrificio, Nunc volo potestatem quam pollicitus es mihi.

The Latin translates (as best I can tell with my incredibly weak Latin) to:

Behold [the] Lord, I offer these souls in sacrifice, I want the power thou hast promised me.

Which is interesting, but not clearly mapped to the Infernal above. Then I started wondering what relationship Astarion's scars have with all this, but thankfully, someone else has done the work here!

Astarion's scars have been transcribed and translated in a wonderfully detailed Reddit post by northpaw_s in 2020, but the salient points are that they appear to be in a mishmash of mangled Latin and Romance languages ("Infernal") and read:

Hoyc inferiu non iurare per igneu Naec virba loquor Eoai mundo muoat

Which appears to roughly translate to:

This soul swears no oath by fire Nor words does he speak In the realm of death

This makes sense if it's a fragment of a contract. I suspect the other spawn's scars are all identical to Astarion's for game mechanics/development reasons, but it'd be wild if they did have minor differences to complete the rest of the phrases! I know the scars don't show on their backs they way they do on Astarion's outside of the moment of the ritual, but it really does make me wonder if there's a complete text of the poem in some writer's documentation somewhere.

Anyway, what did you do with your Thursday night?

[saltminerising]

...Pre-ordered and received a gorgeous hatchling skin. Went to apply it to the dragon I knew it was perfect for, only to realize--my dumb ass somehow mistook H!Gaoler for H!Obelisk. I am still trying to figure out how because they look *nothing like each other*. Only real comparison is that they both have a fluffy element, but even then the silhouette is completely different. Baby Obes look like KITTIES! WHAT WAS MY BRAIN THINKING? ...Now to find the perfect H!Gaoler without skin previews. :')

🌱

[sydney-carton-of-sour-milk]

The Many Illustrators of A Tale of Two Cities 8: Edmund H. Garrett (2/2)

Vignettes for Vol. 2

I'm going to be jumping right in on this one, except for one small thing!

1 / 2 || 2 / 2

As I mentioned in the previous post, I sourced the images for vol. 1 and vol. 2 of this edition from different places. One interesting thing about this source that's different from that of the previous (besides the fact that the scans are better) is that some - but not all - of the full-page illustrations actually have captions! I will of course add those underneath them where applicable. Sadly, this likely means that the full-page illustrations from vol. 1 also had captions that simply were not included in the scan. Ah, well - perhaps they'll show up one day, making for yet another mystery solved on its own!

Anyway, here are Garrett's illustrations for vol. 2 - enjoy!

The gaoler opened a low black door.

"English?" asked Madam Defarge, inquisitively raising her dark eyebrows.

I hope you enjoyed this set as much as I did!🌟

As a bonus, here's a gif showing the difference in quality between my original source and this new source - I'm so glad I found it!

& the standard endnote for all posts in this series:

This post is intended to act as the start of a forum on the given illustrator, so if anyone has anything to add - requests to see certain drawings in higher definition (since Tumblr compresses images), corrections to factual errors, sources for better-quality versions of the illustrations, further reading, fun facts, any questions, or just general commentary - simply do so on this post, be it in a comment/tags or the replies!💫

[familiar-scrying]

#360 - Manticore

Gaoler H|Tan Bar|Auburn Peregrine|Rust Scorpion|Earth Dark Sclera

[ruitethewingedfox]

whelp. That happened.

so i went looking for the paint gene for aethers in AH but I didn't specify that I was looking for the paint gene and I saw one and without thinking h bought it but lo and behold it was the gaoler version.

[frussette]

Spicy!

Flameforger's Festival 2024 checklist under the cut.

SKINS & ACCENTS

Flame Knight (Aberration m) x1

Smoldering Renewal (Auraboa f) x1

Conflagrant Sylvan (Auraboa m) x1

Oriflamme (Banescale f) 

Mantle of Fire (Banescale m) x1

Bog-A-Lamp (Bogsneak f) x1

Feather Friends (Coatl h) x1

That Lava Flow Tho (Dusthide f)

Furnace Core (Fathom f) x1 

The Fires of Creation (Fathom m) x1

Out of the Smoke (Guardian m) x1

Light the Forge (Gaoler f) x1

Flowing Fissure (Imperial m) 

Forging Hammer (Nocturne h) x1

Where There Is Smoke (Obelisk m) x1

Boiling Point (Pearlcatcher f) x1

Roasty Toasty (Sandsurge m) x1

Volcanic Maw (Snapper m) x1

Furious Flame (Wildclaw f) x1

Running Hot (Wildclaw m) x1

FESTIVE FAVORS

Lanternlight Trail x10

Fire Sword x10

Fire Gryphon x2

Ancient Gene Parchment x10

SURPLUS

Glowing Embers x1100

Chests x11

[crying-workshop]

Gaoler Hatchling

Periwinkle Flaunt / Ice Trail / Violet Blossom

Shadow Rare

[thunderintheamphitheater]

im living for all the ancient genes that Dont Work(tm) with Multigaze like

look at this dude

are you ok sir

mA’AM???

[lightvveaver]

@nefily-fr 's scry inspired me and oops now i have plans for a shade-infected gaoler

[flightrisin]

I love the fr fanbase but i also hate it because we're so small you have to see the same post a million times in a row.

[pious-fr]

[custom-emojis]

H???????!! THE DRAGONS YOU HAVE FOR SALE ARE EPIC, THANK YOU FOR SHARING

UJHGSH thanks anon. i did not notice you sent this when i posted that but this has immediately validated my annoying dragonposting. I made an official like. hatchery forum post thing thats all fancy, and hatched a new gaoler today <3 for the FL fans

[saltminerising]

Genuinely mad that Abbys gaolers and obbys get sparkly cool manes but then theres tundras whose biggest feature is "omg winter dragon with fur" to the point they even have lore and design built around how they have fur "the tundra shown is their Summer coat!" and its just literally basic, ALL the time, Look at lionfish for example and now FlaFla crying, screaming, laying on the floor of the candy aisle why cant they have nice things why, why can't tundras be cool and pretty why cant they w H y

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AGOT: Sansa VI (Chapter 67)

She sensed I needed her after Bran was so mean to me.

Did I say Eddard’s chapters were finished? My bad.

In the tower room at the heart of Maegor's Holdfast, Sansa gave herself to the darkness.    

Once the door had slammed shut, he had seen no more. The dark was absolute. He had as well been blind. - Eddard XV   

+.+

She drew the curtains around her bed, slept, woke weeping, and slept again. When she could not sleep she lay under her blankets shivering with grief.

Ned closed his eyes and opened them; it made no difference. He slept and woke and slept again. - Eddard XV

+.+

Servants came and went, bringing meals, but the sight of food was more than she could bear. The dishes piled up on the table beneath her window, untouched and spoiling, until the servants took them away again.

Later, when the stomach cramps began, he begged for food instead. It made no matter; he was not fed. Perhaps the Lannisters meant for him to starve to death. - Eddard XV

+.+

Sometimes her sleep was leaden and dreamless, and she woke from it more tired than when she had closed her eyes. Yet those were the best times, for when she dreamed, she dreamed of Father.

He did not know which was more painful, the waking or the sleeping. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbing dreams of blood and broken promises. - Eddard XV

+.+

Waking or sleeping, she saw him, saw the gold cloaks fling him down, saw Ser Ilyn striding forward, unsheathing Ice from the scabbard on his back, saw the moment … the moment when … she had wanted to look away, she had wanted to, her legs had gone out from under her and she had fallen to her knees, yet somehow she could not turn her head, and all the people were screaming and shouting, and her prince had smiled at her, he'd smiled and she'd felt safe, but only for a heartbeat, until he said those words, and her father's legs … that was what she remembered, his legs, the way they'd jerked when Ser Ilyn … when the sword …

+.+

Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters … but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing.

+.+

The serving girls tried to talk to her when they brought her meals, but she never answered them. 

At first he would beg the man for some word of his daughters and the world beyond his cell. Grunts and kicks were his only replies. - Eddard XV

+.+

Once Grand Maester Pycelle came with a box of flasks and bottles, to ask if she was ill. He felt her brow, made her undress, and touched her all over while her bedmaid held her down.

I’m going to run over this fictional character with my car.

+.+

When he left he gave her a potion of honeywater and herbs and told her to drink a swallow every night. She drank it all right then and went back to sleep. 

A gaoler thrust a jug at him. The clay was cool and beaded with moisture. Ned grasped it with both hands and gulped eagerly. Water ran from his mouth and dripped down through his beard. He drank until he thought he would be sick. - Eddard XV

+.+

She dreamt of footsteps on the tower stair, an ominous scraping of leather on stone as a man climbed slowly toward her bedchamber, step by step. All she could do was huddle behind her door and listen, trembling, as he came closer and closer. It was Ser Ilyn Payne, she knew, coming for her with Ice in his hand, coming to take her head. There was no place to run, no place to hide, no way to bar the door. Finally the footsteps stopped and she knew he was just outside, standing there silent with his dead eyes and his long pocked face. That was when she realized she was naked. She crouched down, trying to cover herself with her hands, as her door began to swing open, creaking, the point of the greatsword poking through …

It means she feels isolated, endangered, and defenseless.

Without the direwolf, Jon felt almost naked. He found himself glancing at every shadow with unease. - Jon VII, AGOT

+.+

When they finally came for her in truth, Sansa never heard their footsteps. It was Joffrey who opened her door, not Ser Ilyn but the boy who had been her prince. She was in bed, curled up tight, her curtains drawn, and she could not have said if it was noon or midnight.

Ned was half-asleep when the footsteps came down the hall. At first he thought he dreamt them; it had been so long since he had heard anything but the sound of his own voice. - Eddard XV

x

curled up on the straw - Eddard XV

x

For how long he could not say. There was no sun and no moon. - Eddard XV

+.+

The first thing she heard was the slam of the door. Then her bed hangings were yanked back, and she threw up a hand against the sudden light and saw them standing over her.

When the heavy wooden door creaked open, the sudden light was painful to his eyes. - Eddard XV

+.+

She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became. Her maids sluiced the blood off her face, scrubbed the dirt from her back, washed her hair and brushed it out until it sprang back in thick auburn curls.

The door crashed shut. He blinked as the light vanished, lowered his head to his chest, and curled up on the straw. It no longer stank of urine and shit. It no longer smelled at all. - Eddard XV

+.+

"He was a traitor. I never promised to spare him, only that I'd be merciful, and I was. If he hadn't been your father, I would have had him torn or flayed, but I gave him a clean death."

Speaking of POV traps, it’s interesting to note that Joffrey thinks he’s entirely justified here, and there’s an argument to be made that he wasn’t out of line. (For the record, I’m not making that argument.)

He truly believes Robert is his father, that Ned committed treason, and was attempting to usurp the throne. That is a crime that would always end with execution.

Not defending the little worm, only presenting a talking point.

+.+

The knight was on her before she could think, yanking back her hand as she tried to shield her face and back-handing her across the ear with a gloved fist. Sansa did not remember falling, yet the next she knew she was sprawled on one knee amongst the rushes. Her head was ringing. Ser Meryn Trant stood over her, with blood on the knuckles of his white silk glove.

Okay fine, Arya is allowed to torture one person.

+.+

"Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants."                 

"What … what does he want? Please, tell me."

"He wants you to smile and smell sweet and be his lady love," the Hound rasped. "He wants to hear you recite all your pretty little words the way the septa taught you. He wants you to love him … and fear him."

Other than the fear part, it’s laughable how wrong this is.

+.+

"I shall do whatever His Grace commands."            

"As I do," he replied.

"Yes … but you are no true knight, Ser Meryn."

He could have tried, Brienne thought. He could have died. Old or young, a true knight is sworn to protect those who are weaker than himself, or die in the attempt. - Brienne VI, AFFC

PLEASE. 

+.+

The balcony was deserted save for Sansa.

Are they making sure nobody witnesses Joffrey’s brutality, or is everyone terrified of getting caught in the crossfire?

Probably both.

+.+

Nine cases out of ten seemed to bore him

Hey there Daenerys.

+.+

Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence. Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head.

+.+

The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that.

x

And to the north …                 

She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.

It’s waiting for you, sweetie.

+.+

He can make me look at the heads, she told herself, but he can't make me see them.

Arya is practicing looking with her eyes, and seeing for true.

Sansa is practicing the exact opposite to pull through this.

+.+

"This one is your father," he said. "This one here. Dog, turn it around so she can see him."                 

Sandor Clegane took the head by the hair and turned it.

What a beautiful start to their love story.

+.+

"I beg of you, my prince …"                  

"I'm king now. Dog, get her out of bed."

x

"I … as … as you command, my lord."          

"Your Grace," Joffrey corrected her.

x

"I … I had not thought, my lord."                  

"Your Grace," he said sharply.

x

"If it please you, my lord," Sansa said.    

This is a very subtle act of defiance that I am adoring.

+.+

That's what I'll give you, Lady Sansa. Your brother's head."                 

A kind of madness took over her then, and she heard herself say, "Maybe my brother will give me your head."

YES.

+.+

The outer parapet came up to her chin, but along the inner edge of the walk was nothing, nothing but a long plunge to the bailey seventy or eighty feet below. All it would take was a shove, she told herself. He was standing right there, right there, smirking at her with those fat wormlips. You could do it, she told herself. You could. Do it right now. It wouldn't even matter if she went over with him. It wouldn't matter at all.

Sansa, I have four more books, I’m not doing this without you.

+.+

The moment was gone. Sansa lowered her eyes. "Thank you," she said when he was done. She was a good girl, and always remembered her courtesies.

Except when it comes to kneeling for Lannisters, or addressing them by the correct title.

I love you! 🥰

Final thoughts:

Do you think BNFs ever notice Sansa perfectly retracing the Lord of Winterfell’s steps, echoing the Lord of Winterfell’s words, or mirroring the Lord of Winterfell’s chapters?

Or are they too busy getting lost in a Tyrion chapter?

He made plans to keep himself sane, built castles of hope in the dark. - Eddard XV

x

The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs, a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. - Sansa VII, ASOS

❤️

-> return to menu <-

[fr-jedicreed]

Little Automaton

(All dragons are in anthro forms, unless otherwise noted!)

--

Spire was used to walking around the Lower Tier on her own. She had nothing to worry about. Most people were scared of her anyways, and not because of her size, and augmentations. She was the girlfriend of the leader of the Torn Wings Mafia, Thyl’la. And everyone seemed to know that. Thyl’la trusted her to go on her own...though Spire couldn’t help but feel as if someone was watching her...

Probably the assassins Sugar and Spice. They were pretty sneaky...

She perked up, hearing some frustrated shouting. Curious, she moved closer to the sound, to find a Tundra shopkeep attempting to shoo something (someone?) away from his store front.

“I can’t have you swooping and attacking my customers, you’re bad for business! Go away!”

Above his shop front was a small little thing. Spire moved closer, just to get a better look.

The little one was in the shape of a Nocturne, though Spire couldn’t really smell Nocturne on them. The way their tail and body moved, Spire could tell that they weren’t flesh and blood. They were all machine. Small, compact...and apparently attacking customers.

“Will--Will stay. Won’t move. Too dangerous.” they said simply, shirking back as the Tundra tried to shoo them away again.

“You’re the one being dangerous!” he huffed, before finally noticing Spire. The Tundra did a double take, before swallowing nervously, and taking a step back. Spire frowned--she wasn’t dangerous! Why were people so scared of her? “H--How can I help you?”

“Are you having trouble with the little one?” asked Spire, looking up at the Nocturne Automaton.

“It won’t leave!” sighed the Tundra, furry shoulders slumping, “She won’t budge, no matter what I do, and she keeps attacking my customers! She made one bleed! That’s bad for business, you know!”

Spire looked back up at the little one, before stepping closer, “May I?”

The Tundra nodded, gesturing for her to move closer.

The Nocturne looked at her...and blinked. Blinked several times, before tilting their head.

“Same. Not same. But same. How?” they asked, their mechanical voice sounding confused, yet curious at the same time.

“I’m part machine, sort of like you.” said Spire, smiling as she gestured to her augmentations, “I was involved in a horrible attack, and had to be put back together again--literally. So I am sort of like you, only more...fleshy.”

The Nocturne turned their head, and moved slightly closer, still staying far out of reach, “Heart. Actual organ. Beating. Brain. Natural. Sending signals to body and augmentations. Machine. Yet not.”

Spire smiled, finding the broken speech pattern rather adorable, “Exactly. Though...” She moved a little closer, causing the Nocturne to back up slightly. Their body was dirty, and slightly dented and scratched. They had obviously been running loose for quite sometime. And had probably been attacked, too. The Lower Tier wasn’t the safest of the Tiers to be alone in... “Why don’t you come with me? You look like you need some good ol’ TLC.”

The Nocturn turned their head, “...TLC. Tender. Loving. Care? Care... Care...not harm? No harm?”

It was almost heartbreaking hearing the hope in the automaton’s voice. Spire nodded, holding her hand out to the little one, “Yes, care. The same care I get for my parts. You’ll be treated well, very well. And no one will harm you again.”

The Nocturne seemed to think about it, before slowly crawling onto Spire’s hand, skittering up her arm, and settling on her shoulder, tiny little claws digging into her fur.

“I’m Spire.” she said, smiling, “Do you have a name?”

“I do. I was given a name. Kokoro.” said the Nocturne, “Spire. Nice name. Nice Gaoler.” Kokoro let out a mechanical sounding purr, as she nuzzled against Spire. She chuckled, before turning to the Tundra.

“Problem solved!”

After exchanging smiles, the two parted ways, with the Tundra going back into his shop, and Spire heading back to headquarters, with a new friend in tow. Hopefully Thyl’la wouldn’t mind her bringing the automaton home...

[fr-sucrose]

baby boy,, baby

its only after finishing everything that I remember that gaoLerS hAVE h o r N s