#Resolute Blades

[wynilthyrii]

A letter to Zanrethan Sunforge, August 4

The letter bears the seal of Lady Ilthyrii—the dagger-and-stars House Ilthyrii arms crossed with the phoenix crest of the Order—pressed in dark gray sealing wax. In neat, familiar handwriting on the front, it is addressed to Zanrethan Sunforge of the Order. The missive is written on good parchment in dark gray ink, bearing the scent of coffee, incense, and smoke.

Zan,

I’ve thought hard before beginning this letter, started and restarted it half a dozen times in the past few days—because it has only been in the past few days that I’ve decided to write it at all. I’ve not told anyone about running into you as it occurred to me that perhaps you didn’t want anyone to know. You didn’t say and I didn’t ask and that was a failing on my part, truth be told. In some ways, I suppose my thoughts were elsewhere.

As long ago as it was, I still remember the morning after we thought you lost. I went to the war room office and spread a black cloth over your desk. What I don’t remember is how long it stayed there, how long it was before we finally cleared it all, filed some things and packed the rest away. Every so often these days when I’m going through the oldest files and reports, I still find things in your handwriting. The ache eased some time ago but every so often, there’s been the pang, the regret. I suppose it will be even less, now, since I know you did survive to live in a world where that fight has ended, despite how many years you lost somewhere in between.

You should know that the files are all classified, now, though I doubt you’ve gone looking—why reopen a wound like that, after all? I haven’t inquired about the classification level though from what I understand, having talked to some others, the level is somewhere like “five meters above your ass”—and that came from a retired combat commander turned archivist with the Order. I don’t even know that I could access them, and many of the last reports, about the very ending of the Neverdark War—that’s what we’ve called it these past few years, now, since the final stages and the end of it—were in my hand. So many that you knew fell away or simply fell, never making it to the end.

We’re seated in the Everlight, now, those remnants of forces that made it to the end. Arius stepped down as Dragonhawk in favor of athair some time ago, and while about half the Council would prefer to not answer to Drimmari Dra’zar as their lord, they can’t deny the strength of his claim to the title. Still, I wonder how long he’ll remain in that position. For my part, I suspect that he’ll return the mantle to Arius at some point, possibly in the relatively near future, though I can’t be certain. The quiet speculation about who he’ll name his heir when it comes to the Dragonhawk Seat is a minor sport, I think, among the Houses of the Everlight and its people alike.

I know both far too much and not enough about the Everlight these days myself—keeping that promise I made to Fleur all those years ago, the one I made again to Arius is part of it, though it’s more now than I think I ever intended. Today as I sat at my desk in the war room at Dawn’s Reach, staring at the board of all the mysteries we’re trying to solve, all the problems we’re sorting through, all the information and we’ve gathered about a thousand things, I wondered.

Wondered, if you hadn’t been taken, would I be in that chair? Would I be his general now, commanding the Everlight’s forces?

Of course, I suppose it doesn’t matter, but it’s one of those things that strikes. It certainly doesn’t stop me from taking risks or making mistakes. I’m currently under orders from Tyr not to swing a blade for the next three days unless it’s a matter of life and death—he doesn’t want to have to do any additional healing for my collarbone and decided for once on the luxury of letting it heal a little more slowly, with more natural healing than the alternative.

There’s always a new mystery to unravel, isn’t there? Always a new challenge. Perhaps someday I’ll tell you more, if you’d like to know. If I’m able.

I’ve not even told my husband about running into you. He might have been distracted enough not to notice but I know better than to count on that. Odds are that he knows something happened, just not what. Someday I’ll tell you more about that, too.

I meant what I said about not being afraid. If you love her as it seems you do, and she loves you the same, then take the chance. She’ll think it’s perfect, no matter what you do.

Be well, my friend. My brother. Wyn.

[Addressed to: @zanrethan-sunforge ]

[houseildanan]

Argents Lost - Summer Winds (part 3)

The former Ebon he’d met on the trail still hadn’t given him her name, but she’d told him enough to win enough wary trust for him to return to the outpost with her.  The enterprise had been aided by a sudden ache that began somewhere deep inside his knee and a shift in the wind.  He’d lived in Northrend long enough to know what those two things together heralded.

Stormclouds swept down onto K3 as they reached the inn, led by biting wind that stung his face and made his eyes water.  The inn at K3 was decidedly worn, weather-beaten, but in good repair.  The windows looked like they’d been replaced recently and the floors and tables in the common room were decidedly clean, though they still carried a timeworn, hard-used charm, battered and scuffed as they were. Its warmth and shelter—and the smell of venison stew and cider—were a welcome comfort after so narrowly dodging the storm.

The table his newfound companion led him toward was tucked into a shadowed corner and was already occupied by a figure tall enough that he guessed it must be another Kaldorei.  The figure had both hands wrapped around a mug of something steaming, beringed—and there was something else, something he didn’t quite see until the figure lifted the mug to drink, a glint of silver.

His heart slammed into his throat and he stopped in his tracks.  His companion put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“She won’t harm you,” she said softly.  “You have nothing to fear from her.”

“There are—”

“Yes,” she said.  “But something tells me your face will strike her familiar.”

“I’m not—”

“It has nothing to do with your resemblance to Ildanan Sunstar.”

He swallowed bile, but started walking again.  The figure—a woman, and unless he missed his guess, the woman called the Mistwraith—was looking at them now, argent eyes gleaming in the shadows of a drawn hood. He swallowed again as he carefully drew one of the chairs out from the table and sank into it, glancing back over his shoulder to see where his companion was going to sit—and found her gone.

“She’ll be getting you something bracing,” the hooded woman said.  There was a faint rasp to her voice but the familiarity was unmistakable. He nearly swallowed his tongue.

“I—”

“You’ll be needing it, Lord Kyvare.”

He rocked back, eyes widening.  In the shadows of her hood, there was a flash of a smile, almost but not quite feral.

“Yes.  I’m aware of who you are.  I’m also aware of what you were taught.”

“How—”

“I’m not certain the answer to your question matters overmuch, but if you really want an answer, I’ll give you one in exchange for an answer to a question of my own, first.” She leaned back and he could feel the weight of her gaze hanging heavy upon him.  “Why are you, of all people, seeking them when you have a family and responsibilities that should preclude a mission like this—one, I might add, that has been forbidden by the organization that saw you bound to them? Of all the sorts seeking those lost, you were among the last I would have imagined to see here.”

“What of you?” he blurted. “Why are you two looking for them?”

“Because she is my mother,” she said.  “And they are her family and I should think, with all that’s happened, I should owe her that much.  And you?”

“Because I didn’t think anyone else was and I wasn’t about to ask my family to come unless—unless I knew.”

“Whatever goes into that gully doesn’t come out,” she said.  “But they’re not dead.”

“No,” he confirmed.  “No, they’re not.”

“You’re certain?”

“Your cousin is.”

She fell silent.  The former Ebon returned to the table, setting a mug slowly down in front of him as she looked between him and the hooded woman.

“Well,” she said dryly. “I see you’ve gotten started without me. I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

The hooded woman reached up to push back her hood, smiling up at the Ebon.  “One time.”

“Near unmitigated disaster one time,” the Ebon said, seating herself.  “And a lesson learned.  What have you told him?”

“Likely no more than whatever you did to get him to come back with you.”

He coughed politely and wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth bleed into his fingers. “My apologies, ladies, but I think we’ve missed a few things.”

“You already know who I am, Lord Kyvare, and I know who you are,” Mistwraith said, studying him.  “Unless it’s not pleasantries you’re getting at.”

“I—well, it was, yes, but also no.  How—how long have you been looking?”

“Long enough to know there are two sites of interest,” the Ebon said.  “You stumbled across one.  The other is a frozen waterfall and a river that don’t seem quite right.”

The mug between his hands shattered.

[midna-chavelink]

It’s done, day 5 of purple week. And that concludes Hue Years Resolution. Since I’ve been going back and playing Fire Emblem Heroes a lot again. I forgot how much I adore my girl Fae. It also worked for a redraw I did 2 years ago for Hue years.

Anyways it’s been fun, but I am going to take a much needed break

[skitty-kirby]

(Laughs in another all-nighter doodle, that's becoming commonplace for this blog huh)

I felt severely burnt out working on my FC revamps and original stuff so here's these two dorks again to save the day. Plus the last drawing I did of these two I didn't use a reference for and it bugged me how wonky they looked hhhh

[happyfoxgames]

Manifesting for 2025 (but it's nerdy)

I've got a lot of goals that I want to stick to as 2025 is now fully underway.

Some pretty typical: "I want to eat better portions", "I want to make exercise a regular part of my daily life", "I want to tell the people in my life that I love them more often".

Some not so much unless you're also into TTRPGs...

I want to encourage more people to take up being a Gamemaster by creating a system agnostic playbook to help get them started and by making myself present and available as a resource to anyone who needs it.

I want to run more than one game at a time. I'm starting off strong by running two Pathfinder 2e Campaigns and a Monster of the Week Game. I've had serious burnout with my games in the past but I think so much of that is down to me not setting realistic expectations for myself, not fine tuning my session prep, and not communicating those feelings to my players so that we can come together and make solutions.

I want to run 10 different TTRPGs this year. Either in the form of one shots or short campaigns. I'm crossing 2 off but I've got my eye on running Blades in the Dark & Cyberpunk Red.

I want to make an effort to engage people in my own community (my discord) but also to people I either don't regularly do so with or with total strangers on the internet.

I want to finally finish the game we began in January of 2023.

This post is my formal invitation to help me with resolution #4. Talk to me about your TTRPG takes, talk to me about your characters and your games, tell me about things you'd love to have been able to tell yourself when you were a brand new Gamemaster. Tell me about your homebrew. Tell me why you play the games you do and what they mean to you.

[pokesmashorpokepass]

[elminsterbignaturals]

what the hell was that

[lafcadiosadventures]

Mariage à la Mode cycle, scene: The murder of the count, 1744, William Hogarth

[thelocalsalt]

[fogaminghub]

🌸 Before the Dawn: Dive into the Heart of 1868 Edo and Kyoto! 🌅 

Get lost in the intricate narrative of Rise of the Ronin. From dramatic confrontations to the weight of your choices, this mission will captivate and challenge you. Are you ready to redefine history? ⚔️✨ 

Explore the bonds that connect us all and the choices that could change the course of fate!

[wynilthyrii]

A letter to Zanrethan Sunforge - 30 September

The letter is on good parchment and sealed in dark gray wax bearing the seal of Lady Ilthyrii. It shows minimal wear.

Zan,

I’ve been through the sketches you sent a dozen times as I’ve tried to write this. I can only imagine what it must have been like to be in the city in those moments. I can only imagine what it must have been like to see the fragments of the cobbles and the buildings scattered across the shore. We’ve had scattered reports and I’ve read them all at least half a dozen times, enough to give me a nightmare or three.

I’m thankful to hear that the warning did some good. I’ve shared your letter with Tyr—he’s had a spot of correspondence with his old Argent unit. It sounds as if they’re stationed somewhere in the same area you are, though perhaps nearer the wall. The last letter he let me see said something about holding the line.

It’s only a matter of time, I think, before someone sneaks off to see what’s what. As for me, for now, my place is here with the rest—we’ve work to do that will keep us from the new front, at least for the short term. Volunteers have filled out a decent Farstrider contingent, though, and they shipped before I received your last letter. Lord Hawksong is with them, at least temporarily, and there are several dozen of the Watch, both active and retired, that have answered the call for reinforcements to ship out. Still others have gone to help fill gaps in the kingdom as others ship to the front for whatever waits for them there—for however long they’re required.

I send this by way of an unusual route—the last time, I routed it through Argent contacts, which I’m sure you noticed. This time it was a bit more direct.

I suggest you have a look outside toward the nearest wall with a likely perch.

Take care of each other. Please.

Faithfully,

Wyn.

——

Outside, settled onto a likely perch and halfway through an apple is a blonde Farstrider of mutual acquaintance, one who bears a striking resemblance to the author of the letter that’s arrived by his hand.

In response to @zanrethan-sunforge:

[houseildanan]

Argents Lost - Summer Winds (part 2)

The trees thickened as he followed the game trail up into the foothills, a trail that doubled back on itself twice to take a more easy grade.  That was enough to make him begin to wonder if perhaps it wasn’t a game trail at all but an old patrol route or a hunting trail.  The ground was hard, though there was little snow on the path as the trees grew thicker, blotting out the light as much as the weather as he climbed higher into the foothills.

His leg ached, though ignoring it was easier than usual.  Perhaps it was his level of focus, or knowing that perhaps he was on the right path.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that no one back home knew he’d come here, that the Crusade didn’t know he was here, that if something were to happen to him, it could be days or longer before someone managed to sort it out if Arius didn’t find the note amongst the bottles on his workbench.

But he trusted that Arius would find it soon enough if it came to that.

Wind worried the treetops above him, setting needles and branches rustling.  He exhaled slowly, squinting upward for a moment, then into the gloom of the path that continued onward, upward, for at least a hundred yards before it curved again.  Somehow, the mile described by the trapper seemed longer than any mile he’d walked before.

But they, too, would have come on foot.  The trees were too thick and they would not have risked missing anything by attempting to teleport or fly.  Perhaps they would have deployed some aerial patrols later—or had scouted from the air before starting their trek—but looking at the branches above him, even with the change of seasons, he couldn’t imagine that they would have been able to see much from above the treetops.

No.  No, they would have walked this same trail.   He was sure of it.

There was a small clearing beyond the bend in the trail, one where he could see the sky.  A few rocks jutted up from the snow and he sat down on one of them, stretching his bad leg for a few seconds and taking a water bottle out of his satchel.  He watched a few fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky as he drank, taking slow, deep breaths of the cold, clean mountain air.

It was so, so quiet.

“About two hundred more meters down that way, there’s a switchback.  Beyond it is a gully and anything that goes in doesn’t come back out.  I can’t let you go any farther.”

It was a woman’s voice, her Thalassian carrying a slight accent and the weight of age.  He twisted toward it, saw her emerging from the trees behind him, far enough from the mouth of the trail that he knew she hadn’t followed him along it.

“Why’s that?” he asked softly, studying her for a few seconds.  A kaldorei dressed in armor reminiscent of the Watchers and Wardens of old, complete with the glaives strapped against her back.  Her hair hung long and loose but for a pair of thin braids that kept it back from her face and there was a pallor to her flesh that he recognized. A Death Knight—or a former one.

“I won’t have the death of one of Sunstar’s brood on my conscience,” she answered, resting her wrist on the hilt of the blade at her hip.  “No matter how many generations removed.”

He stood slowly, capping his water and putting the bottle away.  “You knew him.”

“Not as well as some,” she said.  “But yes. I knew him.”

“I came looking for the Argents—”

“—that vanished along this trail.  We thought perhaps you had.  Come. We’ll go back to K3 and tell you everything we know.”

“We?” he echoed.

She smiled.  “Yes.  We.”

[lunarburdened]

tag dump 3/4. hsr edition.

[phntasmgoria-moved]

3/???

[osohchoso]

Gym Rat!

Personal Trainer!Choso x F!reader

Content: no use of y/n, working out, dry humping, praise, unprotected sex (p in v), multiple positions, creampie

Personal Trainer!Choso whose hand brushes against yours when you reach for the last container of chocolate protein powder in the grocery store. He notices your shy smile as you quickly retract your hand, assuring him he can have it.

Personal Trainer!Choso who insists you buy it, practically shoving the protein powder into your own cart as you object. As much as he prefers the chocolate flavor over the vanilla option, he would gladly sacrifice his preference if it made someone as beautiful as you smile again.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can’t stop himself from gushing about his passions when you compliment his shirt, the tight black fabric sporting the red arrow logo of his in-home gym. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks as you give him your undivided attention, wide eyes glittering with interest.

Personal Trainer!Choso who offers to train you when you explain your New Year’s resolution is to build more muscle. He asks for your phone number so he can send you his website, wanting to prove to you he is legit and credentialed, not some creep trying to lure you into his basement. 

Personal Trainer!Choso who wants to sweeten the deal, assuring you the first session was free. He just wanted an excuse to get to know you better. He practically chokes when you accept without hesitation, planning to be at his house tomorrow evening.

Personal Trainer!Choso whose mouth goes dry at the sight of you standing in his house, your curves concealed in a tight matching work-out set, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Personal Trainer!Choso who preaches the importance of stretching before beginning the workout. He models a few exercises aimed at your quads and hamstrings, examining your form with an appreciative gaze.

Personal Trainer!Choso  who stands closely behind to spot you during your squat routine, whispering words of motivation as you adjust the barbell on your shoulders, it’s heavier than you’re used to. "You can handle it," his gruff voice assures you.

Personal Trainer!Choso  who scolds you immediately when your ass brushes against the front of his shorts, sending a shiver racing through him, he educates you on dangers of your improper technique. He doesn’t hesitate to put his hands on you as he adjusts your form. One strong hand grasping your inner thigh to widen your stance, the other firmly pressed to your back to prevent you from bending your spine.

Personal Trainer!Choso who doesn’t realize how dirty it sounds when he said, “you can take it deeper than that,” while challenging you to squat lower.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can’t force himself to look away when you take a sip of water, your shaky hands spilling it down the front of you. The fabric of your shirt clinging to your breasts and soaking through to the skin underneath.

Personal Trainer!Choso who couldn’t believe his ears when you asked if he would be uncomfortable if you continued the workout without your shirt, his eyes widening in surprise as he finds out the sports bra underneath also matched your outfit perfectly.

Personal Trainer!Choso who watches the way your glutes twitch and shake with each rep of your hip thrusts, your out of breath gasps music to his ears.

Personal Trainer!Choso who is feeling cocky, claiming he could hip thrust your weight easily, a smirk crossing your face as you take him up on that challenge. His shoulder blades pressed to the sideways bench and feet planted firmly on the floor as he invites you to sit on his lap, arms crossed behind his head in an arrogant display.

Personal Trainer!Choso who, to no one's surprise, effortlessly dips you up and down as if you weighed nothing on top of him. "Told ya so," he boasts but doesn't stop.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can feel your heat radiating onto his hard bulge with each thrust up. The spandex of your leggings does little to shield the shape of your cunt from him. He guarantees you can feel him too, judging by the way your teeth dig into your bottom lip and your nails grip his shirt.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can’t stop the involuntary groan that comes rolling off his tongue, trying to play it off as a typical grunt you would hear from other weightlifters.

Personal Trainer!Choso who starts to get a little too confident, thrusting faster and faster as he watches your face twist in enjoyment. Your own hips grinding against him as you seek more friction. Both becoming so lost in the sensation that he almost drops you. His hands flying to grip your ass, fingertips digging into the pliable flesh as he holds you against him.

Personal Trainer!Choso who can’t believe his ears when you are the one to suggest an idea for a "better workout".

Personal Trainer!Choso whose mind can't comprehend how he got into this situation. His shorts and boxers discarded and back still pressed against the bench as you lower yourself back onto his lap, his swollen tip easily slipping inside your entrance.

Personal Trainer!Choso  who resumes his repetitions, his nails biting into the skin at your hips as he holds you down on him, frantically burying himself deep inside your heat. He wishes he could rip that sports bra off your breasts, wanting to watch how they bounce on each messy thrust instead of being held hostage by the tight material.

Personal Trainer!Choso whose legs are about to give out, unable to hold his position any longer. He grasps your waist and presses your back to the foam tiles covering the gym floor. Gripping your legs and pushing your knees up to your chest. Pulling himself out just to drive back in even harder, tip bullying your cervix on every mean shove.

Personal Trainer!Choso whose calloused thumb was rubbing rough circles on your clit while he continued to slam into you, your loud moans filling the air alongside the sound of skin slapping skin. He can feel the way you were clenching around him, practically sucking him in. You were just as close as he was.

Personal Trainer!Choso who fucked you through your orgasm, refusing to let up pace as he whispered praises. “Such a good girl for me, you take me so well,” all while he nears his own climax. He can’t bring himself to pull away from your wet heat, painting the inside of you with hot ropes of cum.

Personal Trainer!Choso who collapses onto the foam tile next to you, chest heaving and drenched in sweat after the intense workout routine you both shared, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he says, “good thing we stretched first”.

Personal Trainer!Choso  who can't stop the smile forming on his lips when you ask when your next ‘training session’ will be.

banners by @adornedwithlight

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Taglist: @lavenderdaydream97

[nasa]

What We Learned from Flying a Helicopter on Mars

The Ingenuity Mars Helicopter made history – not only as the first aircraft to perform powered, controlled flight on another world – but also for exceeding expectations, pushing the limits, and setting the stage for future NASA aerial exploration of other worlds.

Built as a technology demonstration designed to perform up to five experimental test flights over 30 days, Ingenuity performed flight operations from the Martian surface for almost three years. The helicopter ended its mission on Jan. 25, 2024, after sustaining damage to its rotor blades during its 72nd flight.

So, what did we learn from this small but mighty helicopter?

We can fly rotorcraft in the thin atmosphere of other planets.

Ingenuity proved that powered, controlled flight is possible on other worlds when it took to the Martian skies for the first time on April 19, 2021.

Flying on planets like Mars is no easy feat: The Red Planet has a significantly lower gravity – one-third that of Earth’s – and an extremely thin atmosphere, with only 1% the pressure at the surface compared to our planet. This means there are relatively few air molecules with which Ingenuity’s two 4-foot-wide (1.2-meter-wide) rotor blades can interact to achieve flight.

Ingenuity performed several flights dedicated to understanding key aerodynamic effects and how they interact with the structure and control system of the helicopter, providing us with a treasure-trove of data on how aircraft fly in the Martian atmosphere.

Now, we can use this knowledge to directly improve performance and reduce risk on future planetary aerial vehicles.

Creative solutions and “ingenuity” kept the helicopter flying longer than expected.

Over an extended mission that lasted for almost 1,000 Martian days (more than 33 times longer than originally planned), Ingenuity was upgraded with the ability to autonomously choose landing sites in treacherous terrain, dealt with a dead sensor, dusted itself off after dust storms, operated from 48 different airfields, performed three emergency landings, and survived a frigid Martian winter.

Fun fact: To keep costs low, the helicopter contained many off-the-shelf-commercial parts from the smartphone industry - parts that had never been tested in deep space. Those parts also surpassed expectations, proving durable throughout Ingenuity’s extended mission, and can inform future budget-conscious hardware solutions.

There is value in adding an aerial dimension to interplanetary surface missions.

Ingenuity traveled to Mars on the belly of the Perseverance rover, which served as the communications relay for Ingenuity and, therefore, was its constant companion. The helicopter also proved itself a helpful scout to the rover.

After its initial five flights in 2021, Ingenuity transitioned to an “operations demonstration,” serving as Perseverance’s eyes in the sky as it scouted science targets, potential rover routes, and inaccessible features, while also capturing stereo images for digital elevation maps.

Airborne assets like Ingenuity unlock a new dimension of exploration on Mars that we did not yet have – providing more pixels per meter of resolution for imaging than an orbiter and exploring locations a rover cannot reach.

Tech demos can pay off big time.

Ingenuity was flown as a technology demonstration payload on the Mars 2020 mission, and was a high risk, high reward, low-cost endeavor that paid off big. The data collected by the helicopter will be analyzed for years to come and will benefit future Mars and other planetary missions.

Just as the Sojourner rover led to the MER-class (Spirit and Opportunity) rovers, and the MSL-class (Curiosity and Perseverance) rovers, the team believes Ingenuity’s success will lead to future fleets of aircraft at Mars.

In general, NASA’s Technology Demonstration Missions test and advance new technologies, and then transition those capabilities to NASA missions, industry, and other government agencies. Chosen technologies are thoroughly ground- and flight-tested in relevant operating environments — reducing risks to future flight missions, gaining operational heritage and continuing NASA’s long history as a technological leader.

You can fall in love with robots on another planet.

Following in the tracks of beloved Martian rovers, the Ingenuity Mars Helicopter built up a worldwide fanbase. The Ingenuity team and public awaited every single flight with anticipation, awe, humor, and hope.

Check out #ThanksIngenuity on social media to see what’s been said about the helicopter’s accomplishments.

Learn more about Ingenuity’s accomplishments here. And make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!