k-oventin-blog

[k-oventin-blog]

I cannot find it! D: Everything I can find with a href= has a title formatted that way already. Where would those particular links usually be located?

I just found what you meant about the link titles being missing, but I can't find where in the script they're supposed to go aside from the section, which looks identical to the original code to me? Would you kindly help me find where the gaps are? Thank you so very much!

To add a link title, you will need to go to the HTML section, and search for something like

[Link Title]

and replace that with

[Link Title]

[k-oventin-blog]

Thank you very much! I’m not sure where some of those changes came from (this is my first time messing with the HTML coding so much), and I greatly appreciate the help and clarifications!

Hello! I'm working on formatting a blog for my friend to use and I've chosen one of your themes to work with. The sliding header seems to want to cover part or all of the most recent posts on the page, and I'm not HTML savvy enough to know how to fix it on my own. I would very much appreciate your help! Please and thank you!

Hello, and thank you for using my theme. 

After inpecting the theme, it seems that you have made changes to the CSS that cause the header to cover the first post.

You added “margin-top: 0px;” to #posts, which means that on the first page of the blog there is no margin between the header and the posts. You need to delete that. The header is positioned absolute and with a higher z-index than the posts, so naturally it covers them if they don’t have a top margin to the header.

I took those out of the source codes from your blog (left) and the preview blog of my theme (right).

You have also added “height:0px;” to #else, which is something that was not originally part of my code either.

Deleting the mentioned lines would fix the problem.

Also there is another thing I have noticed: It appears that all titles of links have been deleted, resulting in empty tooltips. It would be good if you added those links again, as it (1) adds to accessibility and (b) literally hurts nobody if there are link-titles.

And to make the text more readable (since you went for a dark color scheme), I would recommend going to “.sfm input” in the CSS and changing the color to white (#fff).

For the “#s-m-t-tooltip” of the tooltips I would also change the text color to white. Same goes for the links under “.overlay a” all of that adds to the readability of the theme.

[k-oventin-blog]

Work in Progress

This blog is currently under construction as I tweak the theme and finalize fonts, pages, et cetera. Please be patient if the latest post does not show up directly on the blog or if there are gaps in information on pages. Thank you!

~Errol

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Errol’s D&D Adventure 1.3

        "So no sleep?"

        "No, Dyh," she confirms. "Not just yet. It's almost dark outside, though. Why don't we wait here until the sun has set, and then we can search for a trail under cover?"

        In response, Dyh digs into her backpack and pulls out some food, neither requesting permission nor waiting before he begins eating it. Amasia shakes her head and sits down to meditate the short time until dark.                

        A scant few hours later, Amasia opens her eyes. She sees Dyh curled up on her backpack asleep in the moonlight and smiles before reaching forward to rub his head. After they've made another brief check of the house, Dyh takes his place on the elf's shoulder as she opens the door and they glance around the street.

        There are far fewer people outside now, and she can still pick out the scattered droplets of blood in the dirt. Checking that her equipment straps are secure and ready for use, she follows the trail. The farther out of the immediate village they get, the less obscured their guide becomes. It leads eventually to a weathered path. The foliage around them is dense and tough, with bloodvines winding around and between the darkwood trees, but the path they’re on is cleared and well worn. As the two approach a sloping hill, they see a clearing open up around the mouth of a cave.

        Two orc villagers stand watch by the mouth of the cave—heavyset orc woodcutters, their axes at the ready. Dyh growls lowly as he spots them, but is quickly hushed by the elf. She observes them silently for a moment to consider her options before deciding to abandon the idea of a plan to attach herself to; she will follow the conversation and play it by ear.

        "Halt!" One of the guards commands when the foreigners approach. "Who are you and what do you want here? This is sacred land, it's no place for outsiders."

        "I understand," Amasia says smoothly, opening the top of her belt pouch. She takes the amulet Dyh found and tosses it to the guards and keeps a composed face as one catches and examines it. "But I'm not an outsider, you see."

        "Where did you get this, elf?" The second guard rasps angrily, glancing between Amasia and the necklace.

        "Told you stupid orcs would not know," Dyh says in Common just before Amasia could reply. Both guards stare at the chyb with suspicion. "Even Toraash orc was same. All orcs stupid. Don't even know own important things. Should sacrifice them instead, have less stupid around."

        "Why you...!" The first guard grips his axe tightly, and while the second one is glaring, Amasia extends her hand expectantly.

        "Kindly return my amulet now," she says. "I have more important people to speak to presently."

        The two orcs exchange looks before sighing and handing over the amulet. She takes it and walks right on past them. Dyh bares his teeth as they pass, but neither guard tries to stop them. After they're a distance away, Dyh holds out two more amulets; unbroken ones. Amasia takes one of them with wide eyes.

        "That was risky, Dyharik," she scolds. "But these might make the rest a bit easier."

        "Feels wrong, but orcs are stupid," he declares as they both tie the amulets to their belts where they can be easily seen.

        The cavern ahead is dry and musty, the floors worn smooth by generations of passing footsteps. Amasia's footsteps are faint echoes as they descend deeper and deeper. Suddenly, an eerie crimson glow rises from the passage ahead. Dyh shifts on the elf's shoulder, ears pointed forward and Amasia continues her steady pace.

        The walls of the cavern are covered with lines of red light— scrawls and scribbles painted in what looks like glowing blood. The symbols resemble some sort of writing, but although this is no language either of them know, the text is infuriatingly familiar. Suddenly Dyh realizes that the symbols are moving—crawling slowly across the walls and floor; Amasia notices only a moment later. Whether They stare or avert Their eyes, they are overcome with the feeling that they might be able to force the wall to reveal its secrets, if only they put their minds to it.

        Amasia brings her energy to focus into her eyes as she clears her mind and takes in the words. The script decodes itself in front of her, and she realizes with horror that it is no mere writing.

        "Dyh... These are names," she explains, catching his hand to stop him from touching the wall. "And more than that. It's why you feel so drawn to it: in every name is also the essence of the person to whom it belongs."

        "Victims?"

        "I'm not sure. It's possible, but I don't think they would mark their names here like this. This is boastful. They're marks of pride, I think."

        "Pride of dying. Tsk. Death is dead."

        "Sort of," Amasia says, smiling at the mistakenly phrased statement.

        PREVIEW

  The ominous chanting from ahead is louder now, melding

with the whispers of the mystical glyphs set across the

floor.

                "What is that?"

        "Words. Don't know its."

        "Does it sound like anything familiar?"

        "Yes? No? I doesn't know it."

        A swirling mass of burning crimson lines covers the floor. The pattern

slithers and shifts like a nest of vipers, and as you look at it,

you hear strange whispers in the back of your mind.

                2 fails (one each), Nat20 Amasia disarms it.

        Dyh JUMPS over it.

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Errol’s D&D Adventure 1.2

        "Third one on the West side of the blacksmith's shop. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've other matters to attend to."

        "Pardon, but where-?"

        "You'll find it," Toraash says offhandedly, back already turned as he begins to walk away.

        "Dirty lying orc," Dyh growls. "Wants us gone. Suspicious. Don't trust it."

        "Neither do I," Amasia agrees. "There's only one lead to follow, though, so let's get going. Maybe we can find a clue about why miss Doria and her family would leave when they knew to expect embassador here. Something tells me it wasn't by choice."

        "Not choice," the chyb confirms as they go toward the instructed hut. "Unlucky house and. Too West. Side of death."

        "That isn't foreboding at all, Dyh," Amasia replies, amused by the superstition. "We'll find our next step there, and stay the night with a roof over our heads."

        "Stay? Easy trap. Orc not want us. Many orc not want us."

        "That's true, but I don't think he was ready to outright attack us. A midnight mob is unlikely. It would draw too much attention in the long-run."

        "Orc is stupid, you forget."

        "I haven't forgotten, but I don't intend to underestimate potential threats. Whatever reason he has, it isn't quite malicious toward us yet."

        "Yet. 'Yet' she say. Wait for 'yet' and will be too late."

        [Nat 1 Insight check for BOTH characters; Adventure Ends.]

        They make it to the house, examine it, and conclude that while Toraash had been lying to them, it had nothing to do with what they initially thought. Just before dawn they set out for Sharn to find Doria.

                [Continue from last save? Yes.]

                As the duo walk toward the blacksmith, they notice the continued tension of the passersby. Dyh notes that they're suspicious, but a part of that is due to many of the villagers being part or entirely orcish. Amasia questions if it is really just because they are outsiders, and after asking three different human villagers for directions, she concludes that there is something else going on. Whatever Toraash was thinking of when he wanted them to be gone by morning, it is apparently a village-wide sentiment. Both of them notice the clear apprehension in the humans Amasia questions, and it is obvious that everyone is afraid of something or someone.

        When they arrive at the house, it is apparent that the Veledaar family did not decide to migrate. Portraits and a stocked kitchen had been left behind, along with clothes and blankets. Dyh is off Amasia's shoulders before the door closes behind them, scurrying between the rooms before perching on the back of a chair.

        "Empty like others."

        "Others?" Amasia inquires as she rights a knocked-over table. "What others?"

        "Others houses. Ten and nine empty."

        "Nineteen...? For a village this size, that's a lot of vacancies. And you're sure they were like this, and not just temporary outings?"

        "Have certain. Dried mud, no insects, no tracks."

        "That's alarming," Amasia notes. "And there looks to have been some violence here. What about the other rooms?"

        "Is same."

        "Let's see if we can find anything interesting. If so, our owed quest may be a rescue mission."

        "If alive."

        "If not, then it will be reconnaissance."

        Without another word, Dyh popped off the chair to search the rooms. Amasia began to examine the rest of the furniture and main room. Cracked wood and scratch marks are clear, and most of it seems just slightly out of place. The dirt floor hasn't been cleared recently judging by the traces of blood, and as she traces over the footsteps she finds that something has been covered. Brushing her fingers over the object, she reveals the tip of an obsidian dagger. Carefully using her took knife, she pulls it out and examines it. Dyh returns, immediately fixating on the shiny discovery for several seconds.

        "Someone dropped it during all the commotion," she deduces aloud, looking to see her companion holding something. "What did you find?"

        "Matches knife," Dyh says as he extends a necklace. Then pendant itself is what appears to be a mummified eye entombed by strands of obsidian. It's leather cord has been snapped in two, and it exudes an unsettling presence.

        "So it does. If I had to guess, I'd say they came from the assailants. A pretty messy clean-up job all around, then. Anything else?"

        Dyh shakes his head and drops the necklace into her hand before returning to his usual place on her shoulder. Amasia stares at it for a long moment before placing both items in her belt pouch and standing.

        "This hasn't been here long." Amasia points to the blood on the ground. "Might as well see where it leads."

        "Corpses," Dyh predicts with disinterest. "Want food."

        "So do I, but it would be impossible to rest knowing this could be covered up at any moment out there. They'll be more alert to it with us around."

        "So no sleep?"

        "No, Dyh," she confirms. "Not just yet. It's almost dark outside, though. Why don't we wait here until the sun has set, and then we can search for a trail under cover?"

        In response, Dyh digs into her backpack and pulls out some food, neither requesting permission nor waiting before he begins eating it. Amasia shakes her head and sits down to meditate the short time until dark.

[k-oventin-blog]

Errol’s D&D Adventure 1.1

        House Naïlo dislikes owing favors, and what few debts it owes are always repaid with quick efficiency when it can. It is for that reason they send Amasia, a young but capable ranger with an unusual friend, to meet with House Tharashk and employ her skills to answer the call of a former war ally.

        She has been instructed to find Doria Veledaar, the House Inquisitive, in the village of Blackroot. Going to any village in the Shadow Marshes sounds unpleasant, but as that is where Doira is to be found, then she will go there without complaint. (To her family, at least.) It is there she will learn what quest House Tharashk has for her.

        The Shadow Marshes, an independent and outsider-loathing territory, largely relies on House Tharashk for any foreign relations. Orcs, and their sublets, make up more than half of the population of the Marshes. Orc tribes are extremely territorial, though their territories rarely see visitors. The other culture present is that of human settlers, made up of individual clans on the edges of the Marshes.

        It is hardly the kind of place an elf would find to be comfortable, but a debt is a debt.

                The journey through the Shadow Marches has left your cloak and armor covered in mud, and both of their clothes soaked with sweat. Hungry insects buzz about them, Dyh swatting at them incessantly with the occasional growl, and the air is warm and wet. Their destination is Blackroot, a village tied to the Dorrm and Veledaar clans. The sun is beginning to set when the settlement finally comes into view. Like most villages in the Marches, this

small community offers few amenities and no dragonmarked

house services. There is no central authority in the Shadow

Marches, and the village reeve is responsible for administering justice in the local region.

        Blackroot draws its name from the darkwood trees that thrive in this region, their tangled roots rising up from the soil to all sides. The ground here is relatively solid for the Marches, and the village sits atop a rocky rise. Its huts sit directly upon the ground instead of being raised on stilts above marshland, as is common elsewhere in the region. Orcs, humans, and half-orcs work together in the nearby orchards or pass along the main street. None of them seem particularly pleased to see a foreign elf in their midst.

        Within moments, they are approached by a lean and muscular orc. His skin is weathered, streaks of gray seen in his long black hair. He bears no weapons and wears loose peasant clothing, but he carries himself with confidence. Dyh growls from his perch on Amasia's left shoulder, but the orc is only phased for a moment.

         “Greetings,” he says. “I am Toraash’Dorrm, the reeve of Blackroot. I don’t know what brings you here, but we’ve no inn, no tavern, and no time for strangers. I suggest you move on.”

        Dyh growls again, and Amasia raises her hand to settle him. She also dislikes being told what to do by an orc, and knows that her friend objects for them both. A light rubbing of his head is enough for the growling to recede to something only she is likely able to hear.

        "I apologize for my friend here," she says amicably as she looks up at the orcish man. "He is often wary of strangers, I'm sure you can understand."

        A huff if the only response she is granted, having apparently said the wrong thing. Toraash crosses his arms and nods with his chin back toward the road they had just come from. "Like I said, best to keep on your journey and look for another place to stay. There are none here to be found."

        "My name is Amasia Naïlo, and my friend is Dyharik," the elf states, unwavering. "The place we're looking for is actually here: Blackroot. I've been sent to find a family friend. Do you know where miss Doria Veledaar is?"

        "Veledaar, huh?" Toraash narrows his eyes and looks at the pair with more scrutiny. He shrugs and gives a hefty sigh. "You're too late."

        "Too late?"

        "Yep. The Veledaars up and moved last month. Probably took the girl's pleas to heart and finally went off to Sharn."

        "Miss Doria insisted on their leave?"

        "That's right. She'd been harassing them about it all season, though I never did catch why."

        "Lies," Dyh mutters in Elven, giving the orc a harsh glare. "He gives lies. Girl not want leave."

        "Those things can talk?" Toraash asks with a raised eyebrow, pointing a finger to the chyb. "Never heard one talk. You train it?"

        "Filthy or-"

        "Yes, I've taught him Elven as best I could. He's quite literate when he tries to be." Amasia speaks with a smile, ignoring the low muttered insults. So long as the orc did not know what he was saying, then she could pass it off for almost anything fitting the tone. "He is quite demanding when he is hungry, as well."

        "Damn, it can read, too? Well, sorry to say it, but there's nothing to be done. The Veledaars ain't here anymore. I suppose you can stay in their old hut for the night if you really are set on it, but come morning you should be on your way to Sharn."

        "We would appreciate it, thank you."

        "Third one on the West side of the blacksmith's shop. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've other matters to attend to."

        "Pardon, but where-?"

        "You'll find it," Toraash says offhandedly, back already turned as he begins to walk away.

        "Dirty lying orc," Dyh growls. "Wants us gone. Suspicious. Don't trust it."

        "Neither do I," Amasia agrees. "There's only one lead to follow, though, so let's get going. Maybe we can find a clue about why miss Doria and her family would leave when they knew to expect embassador here. Something tells me it wasn't by choice."

        "Not choice," the chyb confirms as they go toward the instructed hut. "Unlucky house and. Too West. Side of death."

        "That isn't foreboding at all, Dyh," Amasia replies, amused by the superstition. "We'll find our next step there, and stay the night with a roof over our heads."

        "Stay? Easy trap. Orc not want us. Many orc not want us."

        "That's true, but I don't think he was ready to outright attack us. A midnight mob is unlikely. It would draw too much attention in the long-run."

        "Orc is stupid, you forget."

        "I haven't forgotten, but I don't intend to underestimate potential threats. Whatever reason he has, it isn't quite malicious toward us yet."

        "Yet. 'Yet' she say. Wait for 'yet' and will be too late."

[k-oventin-blog]

When we hear the word ‘roleplaying’ we may think about wizards, battles and video games. But in its purest form, roleplaying is when a person says, “Let me tell you a story”, and the other person says, “Me too”.

Here’s a nice, little love letter to the people who are part of the roleplaying community on Tumblr and an easy primer for those who want to join, but aren’t sure how. Have a read. 

[k-oventin-blog]

TEST POST

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3.