#Basalt Band

[katjapetersart]

Working steadily on the gals. Shading has begun! On this picture, the gaunt's body has been shaded, except the hooves, teeth and gun.

Also a Basalt cooldown. It's been a while.

[geologyin-blog]

When discussing the hardest and toughest rock in the world, it’s important to clarify the distinction between hardness and toughness, as well as the complex composition of rocks.

[bettergeology]

The Big Obsidian Flow is the youngest lava flow in Oregon, at the juvenescent age of ~1,300 years before present. It's a product of the most recent eruption of Newberry Volcano, the largest in the Cascade Range north of the California border (Medicine Lake Volcano is the largest overall). Newberry is a bit enigmatic - it's a huge volcano with a high rate of large eruptions but is not on the main Cascade volcanic arc. There's a number of converging fault zones in this area, which probably create significant crustal weakness allowing magma to percolate through the crust quickly.

Obsidian is common in lava flows of the rhyolitic composition, which is the most evolved kind of magma. Rhyolite magma spends lots of time spent in the crust for crustal rocks to contaminate the magma body and for heavier iron/magnesium-rich minerals to settle out, leaving behind a melt with over 68% silica (quartz). Silica is the same stuff regular glass is made of, so the higher your silica content then the glassier your lava flow is likely to be on the surface. The bands present in big chunks of obsidian are the result of shearing, differential cooling/composition, and flowing during the lava flow. This is very thick, sticky, viscous lava that doesn't like to flow. As it cools, it breaks rather than bends and turns the lava flow into a moonscape of glass shards and boulders.

The large amount of obsidian at this and other flows around Newberry Volcano is interesting because the volcano is mostly made of basalt - a lava with a near-opposite composition from rhyolite. Akin to Mauna Loa or Iceland, most of Newberry's lava flows form a broad shield more than 60 miles N-S and 30 miles E-W (roughly 100x50 km). The central part of the Volcano is about ten miles (16 km) across and contains a caldera formed when the central summit collapsed ~75,000 years ago. The caldera has been filled by subsequent eruptions and by two lakes separated by a big pumice cone. This means that the volcano produces - simultaneously - a wide range of magma compositions, indicating a complicated and long-lived magmatic system. Hazards from Newberry (to the 200,000 people living on its slopes) are not limited to fluid basalt eruptions that slowly blanket the landscape but also major explosive eruptions. The Big Obsidian Flow is a representative of the latter. Ash and debris from that eruption is found as far away as Idaho, and is many meters deep near the eruption's vent.

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 28: Collecting Objects

The pack has a beach day, and Mountain and Rain spend it looking for a keepsake to take home.

Thank you so much to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for making us the dividers <3

"Will this do, tadpole?" Mountain asks, holding up something small between big fingers, covered in their human glamour.

Rain chirps curiously, straightening up from where he's been combing through the sand. Behind them, the lake laps at the shores, water stretching off to the horizon, sky and water the same bright blue.

The band's on an off day, Papa deciding that a lake day would be good for all of his ghouls. Mountain's grateful for it, eager to take off his shoes and sink his toes in the sand, connect to his element. Rain, Dew and Aurora had happily dove into the water the moment the bus had pulled to a stop, even though Rain is a saltwater ghoul. Any water is good enough for their magick.

Cumulus and Cirrus wade through the waves, up to their knees, talking to each other in quiet tones, while Aeon and Swiss playfight and tussle in the water. Swiss keeps saying something about planting palm trees, and Aeon rolls their eyes, splashing water at him every time.

Papa's on the shore, under an umbrella, eyes shut behind sunglasses. Should they approach him, Mountain knows the old man will insist that he isn't sleeping, just resting his eyes. His face is slathered in sunscreen that smells strongly of artificial coconut and zinc.

Rain trots over, squinting in the summer sun at what Mountain's holding. It's cobalt blue and about the size of a fifty cent gumball, just slightly translucent and glowing where the afternoon sun hits it. "Shit, sunflower, it's perfect," Rain gushes, holding his palm out.

Mountain gives him a crooked grin, depositing the bit of sea glass into his outstretched hand. He watches as Rain rubs his thumb over the wave-smoothed edges, a bit of glass buffered and polished into a pretty little gemstone. It'll get tucked into one of the nooks in Rain's bunk, along with all of the other stones the two of them have collected together, until they get back to the Abbey.

The collection gets split evenly between two places. Half of the rocks will line the shelf above the desk in Rain's room, organized by color. There's a pile for each tour Rain's been on, can name every body of water he took them from.

The other half will go to the greenhouse, to the bed of flowers that Mountain keeps, one plant for each of his packmates, former and current. They line the edges of the raised bed, curling around the snapdragons and jasmine, the baby's breath and catchfly and daffodils. The stones circle the morning glories climbing their trellis, tucked around the petunias.

It's theirs, the same way Cirrus and Cumulus buy magnets from every rest area and truck stop the band stops at.

"Did you find one for me?" Mountain asks, watching as Rain inspects the sea glass.

"Mhm," Rain hums, reaching wordlessly into the front pocket of his shorts and pulling out a stone. It's flat and almost perfectly round, and if the lake were calmer, water glassy and still, it would make an excellent skipping stone. It's a slightly marbled grey, basalt, if Mountain had to take a guess, but he's more than willing to bet that Rain selected it for its shape rather than any unique coloration.

"This is perfect, Rain," Mountain beams, auburn hair glinting copper in the light. Rain gives him a grin back, and even through his human glamour, his teeth are just a little too sharp.

"How about I put these with our stuff, and we actually get in the water?" Rain offers, shifting on his feet.

Mountain's brow furrows for a moment, poker face nonexistent when it comes to his water ghoul. "Shit, didn't mean to keep you from the wa-"

Rain reaches up, pulling Mountain down by the shoulders to press a quick little kiss to his lips, effectively shutting him up. "Don't apologize. I needed to get a rock for you."

Mountain smiles again, unsure if the warmth on his face is just the sun or a blush. He waits until Rain's back is turned, depositing their stones in one of the pouches of his backpack over by Copia, before calling out. "Last one in is on dishes duty when we get back to the Abbey!"

Rain splutters, scrambling through the sand, and Mountain just laughs.

[southwest-pottery-bracket]

A crash course in some vocabulary

Archaeology, like all sciences, has a lot of specialized jargon we use to talk about pottery. To make sure everyone’s on the same page, here’s a list of some common terms I’ll be using, what they mean, and how to pronounce them.

~ 🏺🏺🏺 ~

Ware: A broader term for a technological/cultural tradition in pottery. Typically, construction method, color, clay type, temper type, and paint type are what defines a “ware.” So Chuska Gray Ware is unslipped, usually unpainted gray clay with crushed black basalt temper. Roosevelt Red Ware is red-slipped clay with sand temper and carbon-based paint. Hohokam Buff Ware is unslipped or cream-slipped buff-colored clay with coarse sand temper, created using a paddle-and-anvil forming method and painted with red paint.

Type: Within a ware, a type is a more narrowly specific decorative style. Roosevelt Red Ware has multiple types within it, such as Salado Red (unpainted red-slipped), Pinto Black-on-red (black paint on the red in a specific radially symmetric interlocked hatched-and-bold pattern), Pinto Polychrome (same decorative style but on a white-slipped interior field), Gila Polychrome (red exterior, white-slipped interior, a usually-broken black band around the rim, black painted designs in a two- or -four-fold symmetry), Tonto Polychrome (bolder and less symmetric black-and-white designs on a red field), Cliff Polychrome, Dinwiddie Polychrome, Nine Mile Polychrome… different stylistic variations on the Roosevelt Red Ware technological/visual core. You can read more about categorizations here.

A note on naming conventions: Pottery in this archaeological tradition tends to have a two-part name: a location where it was first defined and described, and a colorway. Wares tend to be “[Broad location or broad cultural group] [Color] Ware”; types tend to be “[Specific site] [paint color]-on-[clay color].” So within Tusayan White Ware is Flagstaff Black-on-white.

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Gila: A river in southern Arizona and a bit of New Mexico, and a lizard and a polychrome type named after it. Pronounced hee-la.

Hohokam: An archaeological term for a Native American cultural group that lived in southern Arizona and northern Sonora, defined by traits like red-on-buff pottery, massive canal systems for field irrigation, and platform mounds. It comes from the O'odham-language word huhugham, “ancestors.” They are the ancestors of the modern Tohono O’odham and Akimel O’odham people (it’s a little bit more complicated than that but that’s basically the case.)

Mogollon: An archaeological term for a Native American cultural group from central New Mexico, eastern Arizona, and northern Chihuahua. Most iconic trait is the elaborate range of corrugated and smudged pottery. Named after the Mogollon Rim, the geological formation that marks the edge of the Colorado Plateau and a drastic change in geology and climate in the northern Southwest and the southern Southwest. Along with the Ancestral Pueblo, the Mogollon culture are ancestors of modern southern Rio Grande and Zuni pueblos. Pronounced moh-guh-yon.

Olla: A water jar with a wide body and narrow neck. Pronounced oy-ya.

Polychrome: Pottery that is three or more colors (poly+chrome), most often meaning red, white, and black.

A Tonto Polychrome olla. Southeastern Arizona, 1350-1450.

Pueblo: A collective term for Native people of the Southwest US (particularly in the Rio Grande river watershed, but also Hopi and Zuni) who share cultural traits and history—most immediately notably, a tradition of living in square adobe houses in large villages, which are also each called pueblos. Ancestral Pueblo is the term for the archaeologically-defined cultural group that share these similar traits and are, generally, from the northern half of New Mexico and Arizona, and a southern strip of Colorado and Utah. The Ancestral Puebloans were formerly called ���Anasazi” but that has fallen out of favor due to pushback from modern Pueblos. Also, each modern Pueblo prefers to be called a Pueblo rather than a tribe in most cases—so you say the Pueblo of Acoma, the Pueblo of Ohkay Owingeh, Picuris Pueblo, Taos Pueblo, the Pueblo of Zuni, etc.

Temper: Non-clay bits that are added to natural clays to make them easier to work with. When you buy clay from a store now, it’s already mixed and processed and ready to use. When you find clay out in nature, it’s almost never so easy. Typically, you have to mine/harvest clay from riverbanks or cliffsides, and it’s hard and dried; then you have to grind the hard clay up into fine particles, and mix them with water. But natural clays are often puddly and don’t always hold together well, so you add temper, something hard and grainy to make your wet clay stick together more easily and make it good to work with! Temper can be sand, ground-up rock, ground-up shell, or even ground-up bits of other broken pottery. What different people used as temper is one defining feature of a pottery ware and pottery tradition.

Sherd: A broken bit of pottery. NOT shard. When it’s pottery, it’s “sherd.”

Slip: Very runny wet clay. It’s used to help attach clay pieces together, but more pertinently here, plain-colored pots are covered with an even layer of bolder-colored clay slip to get the desired color pot.

Smudging: A decorative style that potters made during the firing stage. They would have open pit-fires for firing their pottery, and cover the desired part of the pot with a layer of charcoal or ash. This creates a carbonized, reducing environment—that is, a lot of carbon, and little oxygen. This creates a smooth, inky black finish on the completed pot.

A Starkweather Smudged bowl. Mogollon, western New Mexico, AD 900-1200.

Vessel: Another word for pot, basically. Means a ceramic container of some sort. Bowls, jars, ladles, pitchers, mugs, etc are all vessels; effigies and statuettes are not.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Aztec Sun Stone (Calendar Stone) depicts five consecutive worlds of the sun from Aztec mythology.

Stone is not, therefore, in any sense a functioning calendar, but rather it is an elaborately carved solar disk, which for Aztecs and other Mesoamerican cultures represented rulership.

At the top of the stone is a date glyph (13 reed), which represents both beginning of the present sun, fifth and final one according to mythology, and the actual date 1427 CE, thereby legitimizing the rule of Itzcoatl (who took power in that year) and creating a bond between divine and mankind.

Stone was discovered in December 1790 CE in central plaza of Mexico City. It now resides in National Museum of Anthropology in that city.

The richly carved basalt stone was once a part of the architectural complex of Temple Mayor and measures 3.58m in diameter, is 98cm thick, and weighs 25 tons.

Stone would originally have been laid flat on the ground and possibly anointed with blood sacrifices.

When it was discovered, the stone was lying flat and upside down, perhaps in an attempt to prevent the final cataclysm — fall of fifth and final sun as Aztec world fell apart following the attack from Old World.

At the centre of the stone is a representation of either the sun god Tonatiuh (the Day Sun) or Yohualtonatiuh (the Night Sun) or the primordial earth monster Tlaltecuhtli, in the latter case representing the final destruction of the world when the fifth sun fell to earth.

The tongue is perhaps also a sacrificial knife and, sticking out, it suggests a thirst for blood and sacrifice.

Around the central face at four points are other four suns, which successively replaced each other after gods Quetzalcoatl and  Tezcatlipoca struggled for control of the cosmos until the era of the fifth sun was reached.

The suns are known by the day name on which their final destruction occurred.

Beginning from the top right, there is the first sun Nahui Ocelotl (4 - Jaguar), top left is the second sun Nahui Ehécatl (4 - Wind), bottom left the third sun Nahui Quiáhuitl (4 - Rain), and bottom right is the fourth sun Nahui Atl (4 - Water).

On either side of the central face are two jaguar heads or paws, each clutching a heart, representing the terrestrial realm.

The band running immediately around the suns is segmented into the 20 Aztec day-names (hence Calendar Stone name).

Then there is a decorative ring surrounded by another ring depicting symbols, which represent turquoise and jade, symbols of the equinoxes and solstices, and the colours of the heavens.

Two heads at bottom centre represent fire serpents, and their bodies run around perimeter of the stone with each ending in a tail.

Four cardinal and the inter-cardinal directions are also indicated with larger and lesser points respectively.

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

So I found out that blue is apparently rare in nature but I want it to in fact be relatively abundant in my world. Honestly for no apparent reason than it's my favourite colour and I want it to work in it. What would I need to change from real life in order to do that? Preferably from blue pigments but reflected light would also be great.

Tex: Blue is rare in nature because in order to produce what we perceive as blue, the red wavelengths of light need to be absorbed and not refracted out, so physical structures are usually relied upon instead (The University of Adelaide, Live Science). A lot of the work for this to be naturally-occurring was also covered in a previous ask.

However, there can be a shortcut to this - shift the wavelength band a little to the left and use ultraviolet. Flowers communicate with insects in UV light as a form of coevolution (Wikipedia), and when colour-corrected to a wavelength we can see, it comes across as blue.

Some examples:

Photo by Debora Lombardi (My Modern Net)

Photo by Craig Burrows (CPBurrows.com)

Feral: As Tex points out, nothing is going to appear blue if the people of your world cannot perceive the wavelengths of blue light. Even without UV, this trick of light is a popular option. Bluejays (and all birds with blue plumage) actually have feathers that are pigmented brown where we perceive blue because of a specific way air gets trapped in them.

However, another way to manipulate the proliferation of blue in your world is through geology and mineralogy. Tweaking the abundance of certain elements and how they are incorporated into the biochemistry of your world will change certain colors found in nature.

You can make certain blue rocks and minerals more prevalent. Basalt, slate, limestone, and sandstone are all common rocks that can appear blue. The mineral glaucophane can be mixed with basalt to create the metamorphic rock blueschist. Thus, the earth itself can appear more blue, rather the generally brown color we tend to associate with dirt, rocks, and sand. 

But metals and minerals are also very important in biochemistry as cofactors, nutrient minerals, and trace elements. Most people will know that iron is an important metal for humans because it carries oxygen in our blood stream, and this is why our blood turns red when it’s oxygenated - that’s what iron does. But crustaceans have a greenish-blue blood because the oxygen-carrier is hemocyanin, containing copper. Cobalt, important to Vitamin B12, is a nutrient mineral that comes to mind when I think of blue.

So what about the flora of the world?

Flowers and fruits get their coloration from two types of molecules: carotene and anthocyanin. Carotene pretty exclusively produces reds, yellows, and oranges. Anthocyanin generally produces reds and purples, but in the rare occasions a blue flower is produced, it can be due to a chemical complex called metalloanthocyanin, which contains magnesium, aluminium, or iron (or a combination). 

For a more scientifically robust look at coloration in flowers, including options other than metalloanthocyanin, check out this article, “Natural Blues: Structure Meets Function in Anthocyanins,” in the National Library of Medicine’s Center for Biotechnology Information Journal.

[ladyduellist]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Tav asks Astarion to participate in a game of her choosing.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 8: Questions & Commands

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Emotional Abuse, Sexual Language, Sexual Tension, Act 1 Spoilers

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Ballads hatched into our world long ago to inspire, heal, and defeat foes. Thus, bards did learn the ways of the song to carry them through lands known and forgotten. Carrying tunes to foster in the ebb of war and love. We can bring light even to the darkest side of the moon.

— Alfira, ‘A Look into the Life of Bards’

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Once upon a time, there was a wedding. Two lovers. The joining of the year.

Held in a beautiful cathedral of worship to Lathander, where not even the minions of arch devils would bring their contracts. The brilliance of its holy requite through colorful stained glass to shine upon the newlyweds for an age.

Algos stood by the husband-to-be as a groomsman. Dark hair. Confident face. Dressed in shining gold and midnight. The shades of splendor and authority.

A swordswoman, beautiful and anxious about the night, at a table of unknowns. Dress of woven pastel blue and gold forget-me-nots.

“My lady, will you dance with me?” Algos grinned, holding out his hand.

“I would be honored, my love!” A guarded smile from her lips. “How is the wedding party going?”

The man took her hand and spun her onto the dancefloor. “Not so bad. Little trouble with the behind-the-scenes, but everything worked out. How’s the table you were seated at?”

Her hands crawled up onto the expanse of his shoulders. The tempo of the current ballad played by the wedding band, a slow romantic fairy-tale of a tune.

“They sat me with the elusive cousins,” she giggled. “However, I’m not complaining since they happen to be a delight! I wish I could sit with my handsome beau, but I love you regardless.”

Algos nuzzled the side of her head. “I love you too, birdie.”

Their peace, suddenly broken by spritely music blaring from quickened strings, requiring a more rhythmic dance.

“Here, do it like this,” Algos pressured, grabbing one of her hands in his, the other, at her waist.

Her face flushed. Clumsy feet. Self consciousness seeped in. She tried to hold herself together, praying that he would ignore her flaws in this art of movement. “I don’t want to dance like this…no, I didn’t mean it like that—I’m just feeling shy.”

There. In his vision. The glaze she had been preparing for all week in caution, knowing it could happen at any time if the circumstances were right. Another night she could have predicted with cartomancy from any deck of illustrated cards.

How could irises the color of pitch basalt, she let erode her soul with love, have such rage?

“We’re leaving.”

Ruffled. A shaking of hands to the guests at the wedding in pleasant goodbyes.

A face twisted. Heavy feet walking out of the venue with beer on his tongue.

Soft pattering taps of her shoes, following him to his hell. Biting the inside of her cheek, head bowed in shame.

Away from everyone, he yelled. No one can intervene; no one can see.

“SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU! Broken. Is it really that hard to do what you're told?! You don’t know how to love. I refuse to believe you even care about me.”

She stared ahead. It was safer this way. Not to fully look at him. Tears fall: salty and broken. She messed up again. Will she ever get it right?

“I’m sorry about feeling awkward about dancing. Please let me expl—” she begged.

“EXPLAIN WHAT?! This gloom that you carry with you is an embarrassment! Did you even stop to think how that will make me look?! How it makes me look now?! I can’t help but think that you’ve done this on purpose, to foil my reputation.”

“But, I—you said…I do love you—” she stuttered out.

“QUIET!”

Usual tangents.

Embarrassing. Is that what she was?

Should she mention her concerns to him again about his anger? The outbursts that have scared her? The insecurity she felt. The nervousness. The eggshells she walked upon. The doubts she felt about a future with him.

She’s already endured 8 years. She could endure more.

In the middle of the night, the yelling paused.

A smothering of tears, so she can open her wept swollen eyes the next day.

Into her mind fortress created long ago she receded, sewing pockets into its walls. She wailed the incident into the opening of one before threading the seam fully closed and purging herself of the emotions.

In the morning, Algos held Tav tightly. Apologies to her lips. Apologies in her hair. “This is a part of who I am,” he reminded her.

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♫Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will turn to ash, When you call the last light down.

Moon reminds me of your grace, All the love I can’t repay. Rest and know that I will pray, Farewell my dear old friend.

Moon, sun, all remind me of your grace, Faith, care, all the love I can’t repay. Moon, sun, all remind me of your grace, Faith, care, all the love I can’t repay.

Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away. Words of mine will turn to ash, When you call the last light down.

Moon reminds me of your grace, All the love I can’t repay. Rest and know that I will pray, Farewell my dear old friend.

Dance upon the stars tonight, Smile and pain will fade away.♫

Tav and Alfira. A duet of two bards: an elf and a tiefling. Lutes in hands. An ideal pair for a quaint harmony. They braided around their audience, draping a veil of honor and expelling the spirits of woe. Voices of mirth to rock babes to sleep and inspire fractured favorable qualities to mend.

With boots padded in unison on a final tour around the camp, they meet in the middle to sing their closing lyrics, paying reverence to an old friend.

Flowers and cheers freely tossed to the musicians as they took their bows. A few mesmerized souls with amour’s arrows in their eyes, headily sighed.

Gleefully, the women hugged each other.

“Tav, I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you for all your help with the song. I feel like I can finally honor my teacher properly now.” Alfira held onto Tav for a few seconds longer before holding her at arm’s length with tears in her eyes.

“It’s the least I could do after you loaned me your extra lute.” Tav went in for another hug, patting the optimistic tiefling on the back. “Seeing mine broken to pieces on that beach was not the most pleasant of sights. It was a gift to me from my mother and one of the first lutes I’d ever owned. Many memories were attached to it. Happy and sad. A chapter I will have to close—I suppose.”

Alfira clasped the elf’s hands within her own, as if they were about to pray together. “Chapters that close for bards, eventually become tales in our songs. Perhaps one day, you will be able to tell yours when the time is right.”

Tav softened her features, a fair simper stretching upwards. “Just so. I cannot properly explain how wonderful it has been playing with another bard again. My gods! Collaborating with another musically inclined person is such an adrenaline rush!”

“I know exactly what you mean! I’ve been trying to teach the children how incredible playing music can be, but they seem preoccupied with their little thieves club at the moment.” She swung her lute around its strap to rest upon her back. “If it is alright, I may go have a drink with Lakrissa. To wind down, that is!”

The songbird curtsied, offering Alfira a good-natured bow of her head. “Off with you! Go have fun! I’ll be joining the party shortly.”

Lungs all but expired, Tav swept the blue-gray mist of her sight around the soirée that Zevlor, leader of the tiefling refugees, insisted they participate in after their defeat with the goblins. She wasn’t entirely opposed to mingling with their new allies, but given the events of the past couple of days—all the social interaction and glories of their victory—she needed to find time to replenish her energy.

Though, such proclivities to her personal edicts would have to wait. Because there were wayward missives being delivered into her thoughts, bathed in the scent of rosemary, bergamot, and aged brandy like a secret admirer on the cusp of developing into something more.

With the wildflowers thrown at her feet during her curtain call, she tucked a small handful into her garter, briefly wondering if Astarion had watched her performance with Alfira. Did he like the song? What were his thoughts about the lyrics? Or did he notice the fingerpicking during the chorus she had practiced beforehand?

To him she gives herself in offering. The snares of his raucous life. She humbly prays to the host of his body to thrust her into his soul. Ruin her world and all that remains. Amen.

In fact, she pondered if he even liked her at all or if he was merely tolerating her. He never made mention of finding any part of her personality particularly endearing to be around, instead resorting to backhanded comments at his leisure. At times, it seemed only the blood she willingly offered to him thrilled any sense he had concerning the bard.

Oghma’s taint, why did she fucking care?! Astarion could be an absolutely insufferable prick! Wroughting seeds of his own subterfuge and cruelty when she thought he was beginning to show moments of clemency or kindness.

When they found the prisons shortly after their intentional bloodshed with the goblinoids, she squabbled with him over his insistence on urging her to commend the shite goblin children for throwing rocks at the druid Halsin’s bear form because he wanted to “see the show.”

After she denied the lashings from Abdirak, a servant of the goddess Loviatar, he slighted her with his typical lively taunt.

*****

”Something that has more drollness than all these wretched creatures sputtering on about this True Soul nonsense, and you just ‘pass on it’? I truly thought you would have provided us with a more inspiring performance other than that singing you do all the time,” Astarion provoked with a dramatic tilt of his voice.

Tav walked up to the vampire, standing chest to chest with her chin pointed upwards. She had zero tolerance for the knife of his words. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you told me to sing for you in your tent the other night. Besides, why would I subject my body to public humiliation? This isn’t just a bedroom kink for god's sake!”

“My sweet ballad babe, anger really does look cute on you.” His fingers moved to fix the length of her skewed bangs, picking up tiny bouquets of her strands individually. “You speak as if your body is a temple that lovers will continue to care about during and after your moments of ecstasy. What a very naive statement.”

The bard's tone changed from thorny indignation, to a lower frequency of velvet. Her heated palm wrapped around his icy wrist, bringing it to rest against the upper portion of her chest. “Maybe they will; maybe they won't. But, I try my damnedest to avoid the latter. I'm unsure what experiences you've had, but I've never engaged in any type of intimacy with a man I didn’t care about in some way. That includes you.”

*****

After Tav’s earnest reply, Astarion stood skulking for nearly the rest of their mission, staring at her from afar. Petulance? That was probably part of it. A crucifixion he was reliving by instinct behind the splendor of his newly formed kingdom of freedom.

Curious, curious, curious though.

He tested them—tested her—with his unfavorable characteristics unveiling themselves as the days passed. Yet, Tav noticed when she presented him with challenges to his unethical morals over his comments or suggestions flung from the pantheon of his pearlescent lips, he never acted on them by his own accord. Nor did he bring up such interjections again, naturally acquiescing quietly to the majority vote.

Why all this senselessness? Fear? Anger? Did he truly possess that level of evilness deep down? Or was the sun inside of him blocked by hundreds of black-eyed fiends biting at his extremities each time he reached out to try and absorb the light?

The elements in the tapestry of him that flickered of haunted briars regarded in his gaze, she would, at times, be able to minimally trim away to witness a few ticks of goodness bubbling up out of his blighted soul. But, Astarion was at the mercy of his ghosts and Tav understood all too easily that sometimes the victim can have remorseless tendencies from a vicious cycle of learned behavior.

”A gentle hand.” But, what else would it take?

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The sky was empty, save for the lowly honied crescent moon.

Tav carouseled around the gathering, checking in with the guests and her companions. Sips of wine flowing between buzzed lips, sweetening tongues with compulsions of truths and flirtatious verses. The bard gathered her skirts, in her silence and finesse of movements, flashing propositioning suitors a modest smile of rejection as they sacrificed themselves to her in promises of alighting her skin to cinders with their touch.

Oh, but, it wasn’t their balm she desired as their eyes begged her to drop her silken stockings down, a fantasy of rubbing them between their fingertips as they pecked her calves. It was the chilled path of ashes leading to the thief in the night of the man whose lips felt like years of devotion and stole her sanity during her prayers.

Astarion remained by his tent for a good portion of the evening, impressing the tieflings by throwing his daggers into the practice dummy nearby. Tav surveyed him with a glance every so often, catching him using his normal grand hand gestures as he spoke. Once, when she looked over towards where he stood, a tiefling man had placed a hand on the vampire’s arm, dragging a finger sensuously up and down his sleeve. Astarion patted the man’s hand and nudged his chin in her direction, softening his stare. Her face heated up as she turned away, unsure of what the spawn had said to him.

There was warmth that had long spread throughout Tav’s body and her mind was drumming in happiness from the mead. She could not stop the rush she felt to see Astarion, armed as she was with a plan to unfurl some of their vexations and inner turmoil that teetered on the ridge they kept stepping onto. Half crossed with his behavior; half wanting this man in her company.

Mirror in his hand, she found him.

Astarion’s temporary quarters were the furthest away, set up near the opening to the forest behind them. An intentional tact to listen for enemies or animals scurrying about he told her. A prelude to feed on their blood.

He held up an ornate hand mirror in silver filigree to his face, most of the glass cracked. He opened and closed his mouth several times, then stuck his index finger to pull back his cheek. One of his fangs, a white icy pick glistening from the light of a lit torch in camp, peeked out. She knew he was admiring absolutely nothing at all—since vampires no longer held a reflection once they became undead—still, she wondered if he knew what he looked like anymore.

“Are yo—“ she tried to interrupt as a person suddenly appeared in front of her.

Guex. The tiefling with swept back blonde hair and strawberry skin. A warrior that Tav had met earlier in the Hollow of the grove. Swords collided in the bright sun as she showed him how to properly strike his blade at a target during midday.

“Would you care to dance, my lady?”

Astarion caustically clucked his tongue.

Willing her body not to freeze from a painful memory, she put on a prepared face. She beamed as he bowed, balling her hand up near her mouth joyfully. “Guex, there is no need for the formalities. However, I am afraid I am not one for dancing.”

The young man cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, that is perfectly okay my—I mean, Tav. How about a walk, then? Just to chat!”

How adorable. She casted him a slight gleam, sympathizing with the attraction he held for her. “You are so very sweet, but I have plans for the night with my friend Astarion here. If you find me again in Baldur’s Gate, maybe I will be able to turn in my raincheck to you—depending on the circumstances, of course.”

She could see the pale elf raise his eyebrows as he continued preening in the mirror at his non reflective self.

Guex peered over his shoulder at the spawn before quickly turning back to face Tav. “Oh! Um, yes that would be more than fine! Uuuhh, thank you for your consideration! And thank you again for earlier. Have a good evening,” he replied in haste before escaping to rejoin the party.

Astarion threw the mirror to the ground with a melodramatic sneer. “All I wanted was to have a little fun tonight. But here you are bringing the lambs to gander. Your admirers follow you everywhere, don’t they? Like lost mice begging for crumbs.”

“Except, I have no crumbs to give.” She bent down to retrieve the hand mirror, handing it to him. “Why were you looking at this?”

He grabbed the object from her, sighing. “Fruitlessly trying to will the damned thing to show my reflection, I suppose. I still enjoy petty vanity—at least what I’m able to do with it. You know, I have no idea what I look like anymore. Not since I grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“What color were they before?”

“I-I don’t remember. My face is nothing but a hazy indistinct shape in my memory now.” A grimness entered his gaze as he tossed the mirror into his tent heatedly. “Another wonderful part of me Cazador took!’

Tav moved in closer to him, resting her hands on either side of her hips. She balanced on her tiptoes at different angles, examining his face. “I could imagine you with bluish golden eyes. Akin to the sunset on a clear day, right after a single star pops out—to match your porcelain coif!”

The corner of the vampire’s mouth rose waggishly. He spun around once, modeling himself. “Oh? Don’t stop there. What else do you see? I want to know how others view me.”

Brimming with a million words to describe Astarion flooded her thoughts alongside the blush that greeted the tips of her ears. His gorgeousness dangled in front of her waking hours and inspired rhymes to dominate the prose that fought to be in her head.

Heavens grant peace upon her for seeking his validation in the moment.

The songstress’s chin scrunched up in concentration. “Your smile. It’s bright like the full moon’s glow kissing the surface of water.”

The pallid elf sighed in annoyance. “This is supposed to be flattery, my dear. If I wanted bad poetry, I’d ask Wyll to recite some to me from his questionable scripts. Try again.”

Tav chuckled. She loved the raillery they so easily fell into with each other. There was a nod towards his hands as she spoke again. “Your hands. Strong. Dexterous. But, your touch is possibly one of the most tender I’ve ever known.”

“I’m starting to wonder why I even bothered to ask,” he muttered under his breath. “Fine. What about the whole of my face?”

“High cheekbones. A pointed angular jaw. Straight nose. Features that any sculpture would be counted blessed by the deities to exhibit to the world.”

He blinked a few times with a low hum in his voice. “That’s a bit better I suppose. Do you think I’m beautiful? Answer yes and we’ll call it a day.”

Tav clasped her hands behind her back, walking around him once as if she were assessing the presentation of his appearance. “You certainly don’t have Lae’zel’s appeal, but you do well enough, I guess,” she teased with a large grin.

Faking disgruntlement, Astarion lazily put his hand across the expanse of his chest. “You guess? How dare you. And here I thought we had something special. Though, you look alright too—I guess.”

They both burst into stitches of friendly chuckles, much like the time under the willow tree and the first night they kissed.

Hearts—beating and dead—danced the slow drag to an unheard sway of blues. A twinkle of time for the bard to act, emboldened by the alcohol in her stomach and the sacred affections she held for Astarion. She nimbly latched onto his forearm with both hands and pulled him down with her into the plush pillows carefully arranged in front of his tent, giggling playfully.

Landing on top of her in surprise, she watched as he tried to balance himself on his elbows, hovering above her sternum. His face was so dangerously close to hers, the delicate blend of blood and milky mint off his palate reached her nose. Pinned under him, the anchored weight of his body’s lower portion was distributed to his legs, with one artfully shoved between her skirted thighs. She was grateful most of the guests had dispersed for the night, finding themselves unvirtuous in the throes of passion with a stranger or asleep from the drink.

“Yes, of course, take a seat,” he rumbled sarcastically, inches from the brûlée of her lips.

“It’s more comfortable down here,” the bard bashfully smiled, her slender finger now twirling the lacings of his shirt flirtatiously. “Play a game with me?”

“Well, isn’t this unusual? I would have never thought you could be so forward given your coy nature.” Astarion fiddled with the ruffling along the edged collar line of her chemise, pulling the fabric down enough to uncover her left shoulder. “But, isn’t that what we’re doing right now? Playing a game. Our roles reversed. You: performing as the alluring soubrette. Me: as the enamored.”

“Hmm. I suppose, but I did actually have another one in mind,” she sighed faintly as he rubbed circles into the tattooed portion of her upper arm.

The spawn cocked a peculiar brow. Snaking a hand to slide up the side of her clothed thigh, inching a bit of the fabric upwards, he whispered at the corner of her mouth. “Mmm. You wish to play it right here?”

“Right here,” she consented quietly, feeling her head slightly buzzed from the mead. A rush of heat hit her core and she shivered, causing her to involuntarily roll her hips. Her leg, still caught between his, rubbed into his pelvis forcing Astarion to groan.

One, two, three, four. Four faded outlines of beauty marks she counted on his cheek. If she connected them, they would resemble a lesser cluster of stars. Ones that she would wish upon to guide her through the glass halls she wandered during their interactions.

Spindly fingers spidered their way to her lower stomach, tracing the waistband of her skirts. His finger slid under the band just enough to tease the hem of her smalls resting on her mound, only to pull back when she whimpered for him. “And what’s my reward if I win?”

The entirety of her body felt inflamed, only to be cooled down with a sudden whisk of careful hands tingling patches on her ivory skin. Her plump lips, filled with a rush of sanguine fluid, tapped adoring kisses into his temple. “That’s yet to be determined.”

Teeth scraped down her cheek onto the side of her satiny neck. He released an exhale of his breath, sending a lustful chill down her spine while he pointed the tip of his fang on the unhealed mark from his previous feeding. “What’s it called?”

Tav could feel his semi erect length, heavy and throbbing through his trousers, releasing pleasant waves of moisture in places she wanted him to touch. She shamefully imagined how beautiful his cock must be, especially after he’d drank blood. Engorged and leaking, waiting for it to be taken out to admire.

With a mere purse of her lips near the shell of his ear, she purred. “Questions and Commands.”

“Excuse me?” he pulled back instantly in puzzlement, steadying himself over her once more.

“Questions and Commands. You said you wanted to have a little fun,” she repeated.

“That fluff of a children's game is not exactly what I had in mind. Saving all of those ram horned hellions has made me feel awful! I am not interested in getting caught up in frivolous chit-chat, no matter how much I may enjoy your charms.” He dipped his head down to position an open mouthed peck in the region above the start of her breast tissue. “Now, where were we?”

She wriggled her arms from the confined space to place them on his shoulders, attempting to distract him. As much as she desired another physically intimate night with him, she needed to execute her plan. If they continued to carry on in the same way they had been, the pleasure may not be worth the pain that would come later unless they tried to understand each other better—including the demons that meant to take them prisoner.

“Astarion!” Laughter spooled from Tav as his eyelashes tickled her clavicle. “You damned scoundrel, would you stop for a moment?! Are you certain about not playing? Because I’m fairly confident we could make it interesting.”

“My sweet, the only thing on my mind is depraved carnal lust with a very specific songbird,” he murmured into the hollow of her breastbone. “I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while.”

It was becoming difficult for the womanly elf to concentrate. With every precise caress from him, any logical reasoning she held was becoming diluted with his sinuous friction against her. She wanted him in ways she hadn’t predicted tonight.

Tav ran her fingers through his curls, gifting her with a vibrating moan from him. “You are going to ruin every bit of me—as I’m sure you intended to do.” She tugged on his head, urging him to look at her while her bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “Please. Just this once? I want to—I would like to get to know you better and at least this is a more noncommittal way to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils widened. A vague mosaic of feelings seemed to usurp themselves from the nailed coffin of his lost spirit. Distrust? Anxiety? A hint of confusion and fragility. Perhaps even a longing of forspoken broken dreams for connection. Could they tie a binding string of cat’s cradle around their fingers to strengthen their bond or would the three Fates snip them apart never to be bound in life?

Astarion, full of haunts. Protection is with thee. Blessed is your face in the sun, And compassion given to you from the shadows. Holy is your kiss, Granted to lovers old and new. At your undead hour and here ever after, May you eventually find peace

He audibly sighed, “Ugh. Fineeee, you wretched creature! Since you seem so insistent on it.” The vamp halted the ministry of his cool lips on her flesh, lifting himself all the way up to kneel in front of her. He reached down to cup the front of his trousers to add comfort to the visible straining hardness. “Though, if you ask me about my favorite color, I’m never speaking to you again. Lady’s first.”

Tav sat up, patting her clothes down to soothe out the wrinkles. Pointing a finger into the air, she counted off. “Before I choose, let’s set up a few ground rules. One: You don’t have to answer anything you’re really uncomfortable with. Two: Same rule applies for the command. Three: Have a good time! Now for my first pick…”

Embers from the local campfire glowed feebly as they continued their game, setting the mood for Astarion to light a couple of his fancy candelabras. A wine bottle, stolen from Wyll’s stash during one of Tav’s command turns, sat betwixt the two companions. Smudged lightly with her lipstick on the rim, they passed it to each other’s mouths while exchanging inviting glances. Willowy digits often skimmed hers, as if he were reaching out from the shadows to capture the dust in the sunlight.

“I still cannot believe I saw Shadowheart and Wyll with their tongues in each other's mouths,” the bard shook her head merrily. “However, I did hear him laying it on thick with his lines earlier. I wonder which one finally caught her attention?”

Astarion smirked mischievously. “My word. I guess our little enigma wanted to see his ‘Blade of Avernus’ after all.”

Arabellan Dry deposited on her tongue as she relieved the bottle of another swig. She had been sedulous in maintaining a misty buzz, sipping mouthfuls of water from her waterskin after imbibing the wine.

During their exchanges, Tav learned Astarion’s favorite pickup lines, giving her quite the amused blush when he tried all of them on her. She responded by telling him that his silliness was one of his personality traits she liked the most. As a quirk of a side smile, with a touch of sorrow, twitched on his pasty jaw, she imagined audiences hungering for that very expression watching the lead actor on stage. Had anyone ever paid this man a genuine compliment that detracted from his handsomeness before?

To his extravagant disdain, she commanded him to play with Scratch by throwing his ball several times.

”See, that wasn’t so bad? And he thanked you with a kiss.” Tav smiled happily as Astarion sat back down.

”Wasn’t so bad? He slobbered all over my hands and gods know what vile things he’s had in his mouth recently,” he remarked in contempt.

“But, you’ve now made a long-lasting AND loyal friend.”

Astarion didn’t reply, but she witnessed him look over at the dog in confusion as if he couldn’t comprehend entirely what she had said.

He questioned why she made it a point to tell Guex she didn’t enjoy dancing instead of only refusing him, which she politely declined to answer.

“Not every bard has to dance to music,” she awkwardly laughed.

“No, but you choose not to for other reasons, not because you dislike it. Why?”

Astarion stared through her. She blinked away bleary tears filling her ducts. It was the first time he had decided to intentionally ask something so viscerally raw about her and she couldn’t even give herself permission to answer fully.

Tav looked at him in shame, her voice wavering. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m ready yet. Can we move on?”

Later on, she commanded him to show her some sewing techniques and why he enjoyed them. "Thread binds everything together. Perfect seams. Hidden mishaps. Stains. Rips in the finest details of the fabric," he had told her in no uncertain terms.

Eventually, the commands stopped, leaving way for only questions. Ones that left the deepest rings of sound resonating within, like church bells calling them to worship these parts of each other, as they clutched for the other’s breath—practiced and alive.

“Question.”

Tav sat up straight, excited to ask her next inquiry. “Name one of your favorite lines in poetry or a ballad. I may have snooped and seen you carrying around a copy of ‘Lord Dandelion’s Sonnets’ with you.”

Astarion puffed out a breath, then hummed in concentration.

“Wings unpinned within a cage, I see the gold in the sky over yonder, The stars, a poor imitation of the ball of flame.

Restless, I wait, feathers outstretched, The only sound being the clouds overflowed, Across the tides of the wind…”

“...now freed, I stay grounded, afraid of the dawn’s break," they finished reciting together.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you know of his poetry, but for some reason, I am a bit astonished that you know of his less popular works,” he commented in surprise.

“Those works are some of his most influential. They deal with the complex emotions inside all of us.”

He snuck a drink from the wine before passing it to her, as if he were trying to swallow down sudden ideas he hadn’t thought of in two centuries. “Your turn,” he reminded her.

“Hmm. Question.”

As the night became quieter, the two had comfortably scooted closer together. They faced one another, Tav with her legs resting lazily between Astarion’s widely spread ones, still with the wine bottle acting as a barrier amidst them.

“What do you keep under your skirts, aside from that lovely hosiery nestled against your pale legs?” He reached out to drag the palm of his hand up and down her lower shin. Ah, so he had been watching her earlier during her performance.

A fake gasp escaped as she lifted her skirts high enough to show him the knife in her garter.

“The femme fatale. Not what I was expecting. And what of the other side?” the vampire pressed in a low gravel.

The other side of her skirts gradually lifted to reveal the flowers in her other leather garter. Tugging one out, she leaned forward to place it into one of the eyelets on the front of his shirt. It was a dainty bit of a bloom. White. Four petals surrounding yellow stamens.

“Flowers? I find them to be gaudy trite instruments for the living.”

"They happen to smell nice,” Tav remarked. “And…they have a language of their own.”

He gazed down at the flimsy growth she had fixed on his clothes in disbelief. “A language? Well, enlighten me. What is this flower trying to say?”

The bard put her index finger up to her lips. “Shh. It doesn’t speak now, but you will find out later. That being said, I have one final question I’d like to ask you.”

“I believe we’ve come too far in this pitiful game of ours to stop now—ask it.”

Tav placed her chin on top of her knees, folding her arms underneath her legs. “Have you ever been in love?”

Astarion loudly scoffed. “Ha! Of course, my sweet. Why every night I had someone in bed, was a night to fall in love with someone new. Thousands of times over!”

She glowered at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look! Gods, fine, if I have ever been in love. it would have been before I was turned into the monster I am now. Being under Cazador’s thrall didn’t exactly allow me to experience such relationships,” he answered honestly, turning to gaze away from her. Was he uncomfortable?

And then it slipped out. The unfading sentence that would change the rest of their evening. The comment that caused his facial expression to disobey his usual mask by granting her but a singular moment of incredulity. “I see no monsters here, ‘Starion.”

Nearer, nearer, nearer does he move. Grabbing her hands and kissing the underside of them. He wrapped them around his neck and tucked a couple of fingers under her chin, bringing her rosy face to his own. It was akin to witnessing lovers sharing secrets under an umbrella of their own carved out space. She could see the powder blues of his lifeless veins in the lighting, plagued with the intimate images to trace them with her fingers—with her lips.

“What would it take for you to be mine?” he cooed.

“To be yours?” she questioned shyly.

Bloodlust. Sex. Is this what all this was really about? Understandably, vampires could crave both, but was that all this was between them? Why go through the trouble of touching her body like he meant to venerate her?

Yet, mayhaps she was overthinking their entanglement. He told her before he was only seeking a distraction. Despite the care she felt for him that was at constant war, maybe that’s all this needed to be. Casual intimacy didn’t require labels; it only required consent. And they would most likely part ways once their situations with the tadpoles dissipated. She shouldn’t get used to having him by her side for longer than necessary.

“For tonight, that is," he affirmed.

“Maybe you should command me and find out.”

“I command you to come to my bed tonight,” Astarion proposed, working starved pecks on her lips.

“For what exactly?” Tav whispered into his mouth.

“Pleasure. I think we’ve waited long enough.”

[a-gaggle-of-colors]

Who out of my little sandbox is going to the 12th Perigee Ball? Let's list 'em out below cause it'll be a long list! I'll update it if I need to.

Tarzia Goethn, The Giantess will go with her quadrants: matesprits Ekirsh Nuwist, The Believer and Yukire Ralorm, The Archduke ; moirail Lailou Zalgoh, The Seamstress ; fluctuating kismesis Quizel Youkti, The Defender

Oriwer Tiyqui, famed member of the fleet will be in attendance

??? Juduph, The Duchess will be attending alone

Fiurze Zierth, The Dauphine will be attending with matesprits Hahoka Alcoze, The Beguiler and Kalrei Lullui, The Songbird

Daytre Murvem, The Alderman will be attending with a date

Folara Lunemk will be attending alone

Rhovia Zalgoh with be attending with moirail Yuluwe Nuwist

Mikoto Suhime will be attending with voice and moirail Irchio Alvave

Alternia's darling Dahley Qyzuhl will be in attendance, most likely with a date

Zedaya Ralorm will be attending with moirail Fozzda Darmaw

Lannio Uliulm will be attending with her matesprit

Valeta Amojas will be attending with moirail Sinopa Carine

Twins Aellia Sariad and Aiohli Sariad will be attending together

Banete Ghouli will be attending alone

Beyith Murvem will be attending with matesprit Verana Alcoze

Viafra Zierth will be attending with matesprit Crardo Shrosh

Carlis Jenovi will be attending alone

The band Forgotten Oblivion will be attending (Rhythi Basalt, Cybdan Grisso, Denjim Iveleg)

Artist Ibisha Akhina will be attending alone

Masked singer Eedruo Bruwre will be in attendance alone

Saiusi Voirti will be attending alone

Grubtuber/Singer Valrei Lullui will be attending alone

Secret famous author Penevi Olalst will be attending alone

Fashion model and actor Zealin Aeraoc will be attending alone

Poahev Rocloe will be attending alone

Grubtuber/Streamer (and famous descendant of Babydoll/Dollface) Falera Dolcix will be attending alone

[dysrope]

Hosts to Host, Stone to Stone

[turn 19: (4+3)+(4+4)=15, 15-1(avatar)-3(order)=11]

Syfos travels through Siktun's subterrannean territory, all the way to the gates of Erland's realm. It holds a last concert for its followers before disappearing where none of them can follow. They return with a newfound understanding of the presence (and proximity) of the divine. The Potters' Guild exploit the opportunity to tighten the bands of the Triple Entente, and align Pai, Vorond, and the rest of the eastern peninsula, creating the Hamtarian League.

For years, Syfos slowly rolled around the streets of Siktun, and through the tunnels surrounding it - all the while accompanied by great crowds of tiktik and humans, and even some Kautaila, and people from even further afield. Wherever it went, and endless festival followed, and it would not have been wrong to say the incessant adoration somewhat went to Syfos' head (had it had one).

But not even Syfos' own enjoyment could hold it up indefinitely, and eventually the stone passed out of the urbanized areas, into the wild underground. Here only the most dedicated fans followed it, but it remained a great group. And though its songs attracted many predators during the long and slow journey, they too were pacified by them and none in the entourage was harmed. The passage through these lands took years, and many went home eventually, though some new people joined too - both those tracking after them from behind, and the occasional group of Ayidyid living beyond the frontier of civilization. Still, it was a slowly shrinking group, and they only numbered in their hundreds when they at last reached their destination.

In the dark depths of the underworld, not far from the place where Aelmd bridges the barrier of the ground, there stands a great gate. It is made of unmarked black basalt, and stands eternally open, but only few find their way here - and those that do know not to abuse its inhabitant's hospitality. This is where Syfos travelled, and this is where its entourage followed, and when they crossed the threshold, they were welcomed, like many before them, into Erland's wondrous halls. They were served a meal fit for queens, and permitted to listen as Syfos recounted all of its adventures and all the parts of the world it had visited. And it was a song that surpassed any Syfos had sung before; transcendant and beautiful beyond compare - and all that listened, though they did not know the tongue of stones, felt they profoundly understood it.

And Erland was pleased, and welcomed Syfos deeper into his realm, those warm depths of the earth it had not known since the cruel whim of a Giant had tore it up through the cool ocean. But its followers were not permitted to accompany it, and were instead turned back, to return to the lands of mortals.

Though many were disappointed that their journey was at an end, they returned with a great deal of knowledge of the world, and a deep understanding of the power of the gods. And though many had before circadians, or celebrants, or traveller-worshippers, or followed some other faith, when they returned they all were devoted to the Stone Muse and the Fire Within the Earth.

As they told everyone of their journey, many repeated their pilgrimage, and though many never found it Erland was visited by a great many people in the following years. As ever, the god of hospitality invited every visitor to a meal at least once, though they were never permitted to stay for long, and only those deemed exceptional were welcomed back for a second time.

Hamtari is that peninsula in eastern Incarien BTW.

On the surface, word of the divine halls, so close beneath them quickly spread across all the plains of Nak. As they heard this, and knew part of their ancient secret had been exposed, the venerable Potters' Guild called to a grand meeting in Unimaa. A great number of people from all the settlements in the area came there; they were glass-workers and bankers, farmers and traders, miners and politicians, soldiers and priests. Most were humans, but many hewn also appeared, and even quite a few Tiktik. Only a select few knew the deepest secrets, and many were even unaware of the connection to Erland, but at this great meeting, they all gathered to discuss the future of the Guild.

In fact, there were two meetings taking place at once; the great public one, helped along with plenty of food and drink, and the small secret one, with cool sobriety. But as the mood of the grand festivities turn to universal brotherhood and peace between cities, the secret council of Grandmasters too determines that the time is right to use their considerable influence to promote such unity, and egg them on, and they intimated to key people how they could be helpful in bringing this glorious future about. Thus, when the revelry was over, and the members retrned home, many were carrying instructions, and over the next few years, they each played their small part in aligning the cities of east Incarien economically, militarily, and politically.

And soon enough, the cities of the area, one after the other, entered into defensive agreements with the Triple Entente, until that became too much of a misnomer, and it instead came to be called the Hamtarian League. The cities within the league were still independent (except in the cases where they were vassals of one another) but became ever more closely aligned. And though their only formal bonds were through treaties, and they lacked official interstate institutions, the regular meetings of the Potters' Guild grew more important too in their age-old function as an informal forum for peace and cooperation.

[katjapetersart]

40k Power Wash Simulator...

And a little wheelchair race!

[les-mirben-en-baviere-et-demain]

J26 ▪️ Rieth - Pfaffendorf

27,0 km [583,0]▫️+520 m [+12 555]▫️24 °C

Encore une journée ensoleillée ! On en oublierait presque l’automne des jours précédents ! Pour nos premiers kilomètres, nous suivons l’ex-frontière entre Allemagne de l’Est et de l’Ouest. Aujourd’hui appelée la ceinture verte, c’était à l’époque ce que la RDA appelait une zone de contrôle, la RFA la bande de la mort, un espace vierge de végétation large d’une vingtaine de mètres, grillagé et où circulaient les terribles Grenztruppen der DDR. Aujourd’hui, les barbelés ont disparu, les miradors des chasseurs ont remplacé ceux des militaires et le chemin n’est plus parcouru que par les randonneurs. Seuls vestiges visibles, ces plaques de béton ajourées au sol qui rendaient la zone carrossable mais dont les trous inégalement remplis de terre sont des pièges pour les chevilles des marcheurs. Nous parcourons ensuite la campagne de villages en villages avant de gravir le Zeilberg, un ancien volcan devenu une impressionnante carrière de basalt, et de redescendre vers Pfaffendorf où nous attend notre Gasthaus “Zur Sonne” (Au soleil) qui porte bien son nom. De loin, nous voyons la pancarte qui vante le restaurant et le Biergarten. Une bonne bière fraîche en terrasse ! On s’y voit déjà ! De près, la réalité est un peu différente. Un panneau indique que le restaurant et le Biergarten sont fermés mais que l’hôtel est ouvert (c’est déjà ça). Il y a aussi un ruban noir à la porte et la petite vitrine qui devait accueillir autrefois le menu contient l’avis de decés de deux vieux messieurs au même nom de famille morts à quelques mois d’intervalle. Ceci explique sans doute cela. Pour les clés, il y a une boîte dehors. Il faut appeler pour avoir le code. Ça répond, on ne dormira pas dehors. Je demande aussi s’il y a un endroit où manger au village. Nein. Nous convenons que, quand on est à pied, c’est dommage. Mais on aura au moins un petit déjeuner à 8 heures et demie demain !

Bon, on va quand même essayer d’assurer notre pitance du soir… avec notre petite barre de 4G, nous identifions avec GoogleMaos, dans le village voisin (1,1 km) joignable par la piste cyclable, un bar avec de belles photos de Biergarten mais sans horaires (louche) et une épicerie / bar à lait ouverte 24/24 mais dont les photos ne font pas très épicerie (bizarre). Nous décidons de tenter notre chance et nous voilà repartis. Arrivés au village, nous ne voyons pas l’épicerie. Pour le bar, tout s’éclaire ! C’est la vieille brasserie communale classée monument historique. Rien à voir, rien à boire. Dernier espoir, l’épicerie / Milchbar. On arrive devant le numéro. C’est une cour de ferme avec un portillon. Trois chats. La porte de ce qui s'apparente à une remise ouverte avec un écriteau Milchbar. À gauche, l’étable avec des vaches. Une jeune fermière avec un fichu en sort et, nous voyant, nous invite à rentrer. Elle parle aussi anglais, ça audera. Nous la suivons dans la petite remise. Oups ! Le chat a laissé une petite souris morte. Elle l'expédie dans la cour dans un ramasser-lancer éclair accompagné d’un « You didn’t see anything » désolé. Et nous découvrons l’épicerie 24/24. Du lait frais, des bouteilles en verre pour se servir, un frigo avec des fromages, des mueslis, du miel, des pâtes et de la liqueur d’œuf fait avec ses œufs. C’est 24/24 car la porte de la remise est toujours ouverte et qu’il y a un petit panier pour mettre l’argent. Pour manger ce soir dans notre chambre, il n’y a que le fromage. Pas de pain ? Non, elle n’a pas la vente. Pas de bière ? Non, mais elle en a à la maison. Elle part et revient avec deux bouteilles et aussi un paquet de pain en tranches. Elle veut nous donner le paquet entier mais six tranches suffiront bien pour notre fromage. Un grand merci ! Et pour combien ? Trois euros ! Nous sommes obligés de marchander pour arriver à cinq, ce qui est encore peu cher payé ! Cette jeune fermière est trop gentille !

Nous la quittons avec des grands « Thank you » et « Danke schön » et repartons savourer ce sympathique Brotzeit (casse-croûte) dans notre chambre d’hôtel.

Merci la providence (assistée de Google) !

[skyllareich]

1816, Europe experiences a year so terrible it it referred to as the “Year Without a Summer”. Choking the old world under a layer Sulphr Dioxide and ash. Harvests failed, the sun failed to pierce the clouds for months at a time, snow came in August. This was all the result of Tambora, a massive volcano in Indonesia that would birth the largest volcanic explosion in recent history, sending 150 cubic kilometres of molten rock from earth’s mantle to the surface, along with a massive amount of rock and gases.

Skyllareich has been mostly geologically passive, generally going through a bit of a calm period. This would all change. The Hesperian archipelago is a large group of island that together make up more than half of skyllareich’s landmass. These islands are located in a band stretching from pole to pole, and located along the collision of numerous tectonic plates, each boundary forcing up rock to make individual islands. The most violent of these is the boundary between the Boreal and Hesperian plates. The heavier Boreal plate is slowly being forced under the lighter Hesperian plate. A process that churns up massive pools of magma.

Along the boundary lies Gorgon, the northmost major island in the Hesperian isles, dominated by a range of high mountions in the north, genially sloping down to the sea as you move to the south. Unlike the Himalayas or Andes, the North Gorgon range is still very much active, with small Hawaiian and Strombolian eruptions pock-marking the range. Every once and a while though, a large one occurs. But even these pale in comparison to what happen but a few days prior. Unleashing a massive flood of lava that covered nearly two-million square kilometres in fiery molten rock.

The ash choked the skies, coating costs a dull red, basalt covered the land, and acids poisoned the seas. Even the pockets of gas and magma left in shallow graves beneath the surface. Shown above, one such pocket blasts it’s top, as the vitriolic stained waves crash the corpse of a suffocated shark a giant the shore. The first era of skyllareich has drawn to a close, from the fuming remains of a supervolcano, the Aestuarian emerges.

[eidelll]

do you want to hear about my favorite gemstones? no? okay. not like i asked anyways.

malachite is a copper carbonate hydroxide mineral. it is known for its banding and striking green color. it can often be found with azurite, calcite, and goethite crystals. copper gives it its green color. malachite crystallizes in the monoclinic system. it can have an adamantine or vitreous luster.

labradorite is a feldspar mineral. it is known for being highly iridescent. it was first discovered on the island of labrador in canada, giving it its name. its crystal system is triclinic. it is most commonly found in basalt.

opal is a hydrated amorphous form of silica (also what quartz is a form of!). because of its amorphous properties, it is not a mineral, but a mineraloid. it is most known for its stunning display of colors. the structure of opal causes it to diffract light, making it iridescent. it can have a sub-vitreous or waxy luster.

tiger's eye is a member of the quartz group. it is known for its stripes and almost color-changing effect. it is usually tones of brown and dusty orange. it is mostly colored by iron oxide. sorry, i don't know much about tiger's eye ^^

meow

tldr

[mousefluff]

ace rights, adakite, adamellite, andesite, alkali feldpsar granite, anorthosite, anthracite, amphibolite, aphanite, aplite, appinite, argilite, arkose, banded iron formation, basalt, basaltic trachyandesite, basanite, benmoreite, blairmorite, blue granite, blueschist, boninite, borolanite, breccia, calcarenite, calcflinta, carbonatite, cataclasite, chalk, charnockite, chert, claystone, coal, comendite, conglomerate, coquina, corsite, dacite, diabase, diamictite, diatomite, diorite, dolostone, dunite, eclogite, enderbite, epidosite, essexite, evaporite, felsite, flint, foidolite, gabbro, ganister, geyserite, gneiss, gossan, granite, granodiorite, granophyre, granulite, greenschist, greywacke, gritstone, harzburgite, hawaiite, hornblendite, hornfels, hyaloclastite, icelandite, ignimbrite, ijolite, itacolumite, jadeite, jasperoid, jaspillite, kenyte, kimberlite, komatiite, lamproite, lamprophyre, lapis lazuli, larvikite, laterite, latite, lherzolite, lignite, limestone, litchfieldite, llanite, luxullianite, mangerite, marble, marl, metapelite, metapsammite, migmatite, minette, monzogranite, monzonite, mudstone, mugearite, mylonite, nepheline syenite, nephelinite, norite, novaculite, obsidian, oil shale, oolite, pantellerite, pegmatite, peridotite, phonolite, phonotephrite, phosphorite, phyllite, picrite, pietersite, porphyry, pseudotachylite, pumice, pyrolite, pyroxenite, quartz diorite, quartz monzonite, quartzite, quartzolite, rapakivi granite, rhomb porphyry, rhyodacite, rhyolite, rodingite, sandstone, schist, scoria, serpentinite, shale, shonkinite, shoshonite, siltstone, skarn, slate, soapstone, sovite, suevite, syenite, sylvinite, tachylite, taconite, talc carbonate, tectonite, tephriphonolite, tephrite, teschenite, theralite, tillite, tonalite, trachyandesite, tracybasalt, travertine, trachyte, troctolite, trondhjemite, tufa, tuff, turbidite, unakite, variolite, vogesite, wackestone, wad, websterite, wehrlite, whiteschist

[crystalcasestudies]

Amethyst and Agate with Calcite, from Artigas, Uruguay

A pale, lilac amethyst druze over truncated grey agate banding, with a large six-sided pale calcite crystal. A short secondary episode of crystallisation has coated the calcite crystal in a glittering druze of baby calcites. Brazil and Uruguay are world-leaders in the production of amethyst, which is found in geodes mined from early-Cretaceous lava flows of the Paraná flood basalts. These flood…