#bastion fort

[mothmiso]

Charles Fort (2) (3) (4) by matt303uk

[khrysalisposting]

The Beauty of Khrysalis Pt. 1: A Photomancy Journey

Bastion

Moon Cliffs

Last Wood

Tyrian Gorge

Fort Rachias

[paulpingminho]

[caravanlurker]

Pallosand! I honestly loooove what I rolled, I’d rock (hehe) being a sand creature. On theme is my Geodude partner too. I HAD to do a doodle!

you're going about your normal day when, suddenly, surprise! you've been pokémon mystery dungeon'd!

unfortunately, due to budget cuts, the pokémon assigning quiz has been canceled. instead, you must spin THE WHEEL, assigning you a random, unevolved, non-legendary and non-mythical pokémon. you must now go on some sort of world-saving adventure as this pokémon. good luck!

tell me in the tags what you rolled, and how you feel about it - for bonus points, you can spin the wheel again for (or just take your pick of) a pokémon to be your partner.

bonus rules:

you're not shiny unless the wheel tells you you're shiny

take your pick of regional forms and evolutions (for example, if you roll vulpix, it's up to you whether that means normal or alolan vulpix)

apply whatever logic you like with regards to gender

have fun and be yourself!

[dwtdog]

I mean the same thing they do in speedrunning already they come up with a set of rules for a new category that in some ways will be arbitrary but it's already like that anyways

trueeeee lol

[2t2r]

La forteresse de Belogradchik en Bulgarie

Nouvel article publié sur https://www.2tout2rien.fr/la-forteresse-de-belogradchik-en-bulgarie/

La forteresse de Belogradchik en Bulgarie

[sebthedreamsmith]

My current main sona and their various forms. I am addicted to forms haha

Quite the little shapeshifter he is

[dndsettingsinfo]

Astral Bastion [40×44] by Wizgrids

[buttercupfiction]

Be it fate or just plain misfortune, all it took was one little chance encounter to set you on a path you never even imagined you'd tread. Now, it's up to you to decide where it will lead you. As a child, you got your hands on a Vestige, a remnant of a bygone era containing immense power and potential. It was an opportunity many would pay dearly for, and pay you did, as finding the relic did not come without a cost. The encounter left you with a parting gift you wish you could return, and sent you and your sister on the run - and you've been running ever since. Years later, you find yourself in the bastion of knowledge, Verimys, joining the local guild in search for answers. But, it appears you have arrived at exactly the wrong time; a series of murders plagues the city, seemingly without rhyme or reason, and you are about to get dragged into the fray. With the fate of more than just your own life in your hands, can you weather the storm ahead?

Vestiges of the Hallowing is an interactive fantasy game written in Twine and published on itch.io. The game is heavily character driven, with a focus on character interaction and interpersonal relationships.

The DEMO currently goes up to Chapter 2, standing at 38k words (without code).

play as male, female, or nonbinary; cis or trans

customize your appearance, skillset, and personality

romance any (or none) of the 6 potential love interests (2 male, 2 female, 2 nonbinary) without any gender restrictions

join a guild, investigate the murders in the city, and uncover a secret or two (or ten)

explore the Archives in the city and find out more about the Vestiges and your...unique situation

the Companion

A member of the Greyhounds guild your sister talked into vouching for you. Eager to help and friendly with everyone, but when the spotlight is off him, that spark in his eye dies out. Is he really as relaxed and easygoing as he tries to appear? Appearance: Lanky and of average height, with tan skin and big round chocolate brown eyes framed by short fluffy hair of the same colour that falls in messy waves, encircling his face.

the Journalist

A journalist working for a local newspaper called The Meridian. Resourceful and naturally charismatic, she has a way with people that seems almost effortless. Persistent in the pursuit of the truth almost to the point of recklessness, how far is she willing to go to achieve her goals? Appearance: Tall and lean, with rich brown skin and hazel eyes with prominent specks of green. Her long black hair falls down her shoulders in big curls.

the Archivist

An archivist of the Order of Erudition. Poised and perfectly cordial at first glance, though anyone who has crossed their path would say it's all a front, concealing their razor sharp wit and heartless disposition. Seemingly always in the know about everything, with just the right words to say, one can't help but wonder what goes on behind that calculating gaze? Appearance: Lithe and on the taller side, with olive skin and dark, midnight blue monolid eyes. Their silky black hair falls in a fringe over one side of their face and reaches a little past their shoulders.

the Renegade

A mysterious stranger that appears to be living full-time in a tavern. Bitter and asocial, with only a stray dog as company, he refuses to get involved in anything, yet seems suspiciously connected to the happenings in the city. It's clear he's hiding something, but what? Appearance: Tall and athletic, with fair, freckled skin and forest green eyes. His fiery auburn hair is shaved on the sides, while the rest is left short and unruly.

the Investigator

One of the two agents sent by the City Council to investigate the murders. Soft-spoken and level-headed, with a keen eye for details and an even keener mind, their forte is obtaining information and interpreting it. Though it's obvious they're devoted to the task, something else draws their attention away from it; what could be so important? Appearance: Lean and on the shorter side, with pale skin and sandy blonde hair that falls in a fringe over their dark grey eyes.

the Enforcer

Second of the two agents sent by the City Council. Assertive and ambitious, with an unorthodox approach to solving problems, her skill with a sword and quick reflexes make her an invaluable asset. Driven, but not too concerned about her task nor the goings on in the city; is there something else that holds her interest? Appearance: Toned and of average height, with fair skin and icy blue eyes framed by bangs of sleek platinum blonde hair that, when loose, reaches the small of her back.

DEMO | KO-FI | ASKBOX | PATREON

[socknerd]

So

There are the obvious reasons to have called the cavaliers in The Locked Tomb that - their weaponry, social standing, function as a support of the Emperor, their attitude, etc.

And then there's also this:

"Many bastion forts also feature cavaliers, which are raised secondary structures based entirely inside the primary structure." (from the Wikipedia page on bastion forts)

"A cavalier is a fortification which is built within a larger fortification, and which is higher than the rest of the work. It usually consists of a raised platform within a fort or bastion, so as to be able to fire over the main parapet without interfering with the fire of the latter." (from the Wikipedia page on fort cavaliers)

...

So, a cavalier is an internal defensive structure, able to provide fire to supplement the primary or in cases where the primary cannot, huh? Sounds familiar.

Gotta say, was not expecting to get TLT feels in my Wikipedia trawl.

[ranticore]

actually it is funny to think about some travelling falconer wandering around with a king harpy who is 100% most definitely the one running the show, who thinks the falconer is like. a fun accessory to show off to others/a mouthpiece to communicate through.

i should explain more about village vs travelling falconers in the ama plains region but the gist is that large villages are usually very wealthy and very well-defended because otherwise they would not exist. crawling beasts are drawn to high population density after all - towns are rare and more like fortresses than what you're likely imagining

consider the bastion fort as a model for what a large ama town might look like (in a less temperate climate):

in some of the larger ones, the 'moat' is actually a continuous firepit which provides passive defence through the night, but the upkeep is insanely costly

anyway the towns here need defending nightly. there are constant waves of enemies it's like the most boring level of a video game, 100% of the time, 365 days a year. those in charge of the town's defence are very selective with their harpies and falconers. the harpies usually breed in the town with occasional input from wild-sourced eggs to keep bloodlines good. the falconers are either former travelling falconers with high accolades looking to settle down, or trained from a very young age in the mews. they're extremely elitist about their falconry techniques and training methods.

for small settlements, they can't afford their own dedicated defence. the resources to supply a harpy flock would be very intensive. that's where we get monster tamers like ambrose who are, for the most part, charlatans who promise they can defend a town with their barely-socialised monsters. travelling falconers fall into this category - it's usually one guy and one harpy who may or may not have been kidnapped as an egg, travelling around and offering budget defence against crawling beasties. falconers are thought to be a little more trustworthy than most because there is the possibility of promotion - if they make a name for themselves and do well, they could be offered a position in a town mews which is by all accounts a cushy job.

but their lives otherwise are very rough. long hours on the road in between spread-out population centres, just yourself and the harpy you probably love and trust but also continuously neglect.

[jurakan]

Fun Facts that could be mine, you say? I'm demanding a refund if it isn't as fun as the advertisement seemed to make it...

No pressure, huh?

Alright, then, go big or go home, I guess. Today You Learned about an architectural conspiracy theory.

Star forts!

Or bastion forts, as Wikipedia calls them.

So if you've looked at fortresses throughout history, you may notice that there came a point in which Europeans started building fortresses like this, instead of like standard castles with rectangular or circular walls. The change was the advent of gunpowder, or rather, the wide usage of gunpowder on the battlefield and in sieges. See, if you're defending a fort, and someone comes with cannons... well, they can blow the wall apart quite easily. You can also try planting explosives at the base of the walls.

Walls like this, which were thicker and lower, allowed you to have less of a target, a more difficult wall to blast through, and gave your defenders a chance to fire down at people who walked up to the wall in a way that you can't do if you don't have a good angle on them.

Or something. I don't know, I'm not a tactician. Anyway there a butt-ton of these around the world. They fell out of favor as gunpowder weapons evolved, so they became obsolete. That's not the wild part. The absolutely wild part is that there are people who have conspiracy theories about these things.

So as pointed out in this article, there's a website called starforts.org, which claims that these fortresses are not, as they appear to be, structures built for gunpowder warfare, but are actually the remains of a long-lost civilization that spanned the globe before recorded history.

I promise that I am not making this up.

The claims are things that are obviously nonsense--that these somehow harness electricity somehow to make them ancient power generators that we've somehow forgotten how to turn on, or that they're used to transport people around the globe. These whackjobs insist that Europeans didn't build these--they found them out there in the wild, or something, and built over them to disguise how old they really are. There's one assertion that they're actually grown like living organisms rather than built like... buildings.

[Ohmygoshweareadoomedspecies]

Obviously, no, this is bunk. No, it's more than bunk, it's remarkably stupid. We have records of these forts being built. You can look up why they were built the way they were! Heck, you can visit them and see their foundations and walls and see that they're clearly not organic, or ancient, or power generators, or whatever!

They look really cool, though.

[tragedy-of-commons]

kuras x reader. wc ≤ 1k.

You could kill him right now.

That thought to most, including the subject of your gaze, is no doubt concerning. However, around these parts, the modus operandi of every drunkard, street performer, Bloodhound or Monster is a resounding kill or be killed. 

The fabled Dr. Kuras of Lowtown doesn’t snore. What else would you expect? The pinnacle of propriety, the man mounted upon his high horse (that still stoops low enough to extend a helping hand), the magnanimous genius at rest. Thick eyelashes graze the apples of his cheeks, broad shoulders normally drawn taut now lowered with the rise and fall of his chest.

Your second thought cuts through all rationality: He shouldn’t be that pretty.

…well, you suppose that’s not all that irrational. Being easy on the eyes around these parts can be disarming; it can earn you a place to stay for the night, salacious stares, and most importantly, a favorable perception among shallow people. For you, Kuras falls in the middle. His character doesn’t disarm you, it instead makes your hackles raise - but just enough to prevent you from gutting him.

Such a stupid predicament. 

It isn’t like him to not be on his feet. He’s always ushering patients in and out, acting only mildly offended when offered payment, before conducting his own personal business. This is alluded to by noncommittal anecdotes or pure, direct confrontation if you catch him in the act.

(Nothing incriminating, of course; Kuras is not a criminal. People-watching, conversation with an odd acquaintance here or there, playing coy with Senobium alumni that still beg for his insight. All legal and a far-cry from what he thinks is wrong.)

Everyone seems to be in majority agreement that Dr. Kuras must be good. There will always be distrusting, twice-shy folks like you, but he’s practically the legs that the injured and ill stand on so confidently. He’s inclined to prove all of his detractors wrong while still keeping them at arm's length. 

Having said that, what the hell is going on?

Napping in one of his chairs, slumped against the backrest with you visiting, is not arm’s length behavior. It’s too close, too trusting, and it makes you sick. And not in the way that can be remedied, either! 

You could kill him right now, but you won’t. The stubborn part of you reasons that it’s broad daylight outside, anyone could come knocking - but your mature counterpart singsongs that it’s because you have a huge, hulking crush! What a childish word used to downplay your cautious intrigue--

Kuras stirs. Right.

You’re not sure what his motivations were, inviting you back here. Running into one another at a grubby food vendor, your first instinct was to book it - but of course he’d seen you and called out your name with a warm timbre to his voice, parting the crowd with his presence alone. Never let it be said that you didn’t try to deny Dr. Kuras.

But he’d said something about wanting you to test some kind of new treatment. You’re an interesting patient, plus you’d do quite well for such short notice. I’d appreciate it greatly.

Then you were following him back on familiar cobbles, shadowed by his almost Herculean height. The new treatment wasn’t anything to write home about - ointment, experimental. In Eridia, the last bastion of humanity, you’d almost expected something more magical in nature. Serves you right for assuming, because even after the trial run, you found yourself locked into a battle of wits with the doctor himself.

Chess is not your forte, and the abandoned board reflects that nicely. Kuras almost has you in check, playing white (resembling that pristine coat) with you playing black. You’d clocked the timer to ask for some fresh air, contemplating your life decisions as it were, before stepping outside. It was a short reprieve, must’ve been only ten minutes or so.

Returning from your recess, you were met with a very sleepy Dr. Kuras.

Loathe as you are to care, that can’t be comfortable. How tired must he be, to fall into slumber, completely at your behest, likely causing mild damage to his posture? The light filtering through the raised windows above the sanitation station and various supplies illuminates more of his visage as the sun sinks lower into the sky.

You take your seat, owlishly staring at him like one would a jarred specimen. Dr. Kuras looks more exhausted the closer you scrutinize his condition - it’s easier now that you’re free of a piercing but sincere amber gaze - diligently spotting the telltale dark circles and chapped lips.

…and to think he scolds patients for the negligence of their health. What a guy. You want to severely maim him as a little treat. He doesn’t surrender many of his secrets as peace offerings, but this is pretty close; your whirlwind of thoughts are dominated by top notes of rubbing alcohol and herbs, giving way to bittersweet regret and something surely unattainable.

In Eridia, if you don’t have something, you’ll perish chasing it.

With that in mind, you still stick around a bit longer. It’s a slow day, the doctor is asleep at your mercy, and you scramble the dormant pawns and queens and rooks around to ensure your victory. When Kuras wakes, he’ll be left at a loss.

(You will be as well, considering you’ll be bereft of company, but that should not sting as much as it does. No one is ever as they seem, and no companionship is ever permanent.)

Even so, you toss a thin sheet over his lap after ripping it off one of the nearby cots. It’s flimsy, frivolous, and his coat provides more protection from the cold, but you do it all the same.

Kuras does not so much as stir as you slip out into the street, instead opening his eyes fully without a hint of bleariness as the sidedoor clicks shut. It’s as if he’d never been asleep at all. Swallowing, the doctor’s gaze falls to his lap, pinching the thin sheet with deft fingers. 

“No one is ever as they seem,” he echoes similarly, aloud to no one but himself.

[paulpingminho]

[best-head]

Max had been.. interesting, to him, when he was coming up in the Cog. If anyone had ever asked him, he had always, very seriously, said it was because Fortress Maximus was an up and coming guard employed, and that Prowl was making certain that he would last.

..notably, questions stopped coming, after that answer.

Maximus was good at what he did- smart, too. Learned quickly, and took to his job with a sort of seriousness Prowl could appreciate. And Prowl had no interest in hiding that he was watching Fortress Maximus; why should he, when the Cog was his territory? And so he would stand watch while Max trained, and then give him a singular nod and leave by the end of it.

And then everything had gone to hell like Nine of Twelve said it would, and he'd bundled everyone he could up and gotten them out of harm's way.

Not that Prowl stayed out of harm's way, of course, there were things to do, clean up to manage.

And.. Fortress Maximus to run into, again, apparently.

Prowl wanders closer, optic critical as he glances him over, as though he's looking for something, before coming to a pause just in front of him, and resting the tips of his left servo's digits just on Maximus' chassis.

{ @best-head } S T A R E.

{ @best-head }

Well, fuck.

Max knew in the abstract that some of the… strange brood Nine had amassed over the years was still around. All of the Council had their illegitimate bastards and alt-exempt favorites and lovers and pets, for all they pretended to be above that sort of thing, and some of them ended up better off in the aftermath than others. It was just the way things shook out. After all, he’d survived the Cog getting knocked out of the sky, and he’d hardly deserved that kind of luck.

It’s kind of another thing to look down and be directly confronted by Nine of Twelve’s little shadow lurking just beyond the doorway.

Not so little anymore, though Prowl just barely clears his hip, if Fort Max had to take a guess. That pinched little face is still the same, though he was missing an optic, now…

“Uh,” Max fumbles, uncertain what he should say. “Am I… in the way?”

[fuck-customers]

At the start of June, the company I worked for switched over to a different one. I still sell cell phones there, just under a different name. When I first started at the new company, I was logging a pretty consistent 35+ hours a week, but now, on August 31st, three months later, that number has now been whittled down to just 14 hours a week.

They claim it's to give the new people hours for training. First off, I was holding down the fort just fine on my own (we operate inside Sammy's Bargain Bastion Boutique, so while I'm the only phone salesman on the premises, I have the other SBBB employees present if I need help), but honestly I wouldn't even be so confused if it was only one new person in our store. Instead they have like five of us at the same store, all competing for hours, and also competing for sales, since our quota for each day only counts phones sold per person, rather than per store. But then they don't give me ample time to actually get phones sold. I've had shifts where I had to make do with three hours. Fucking THREE.

I'm seriously considering showing them my schedule and asking them if they really think it's befitting of the third best salesman in the district to be relegated to those hours. I love this job, I'm good at it, but holy fuck does it feel like I'm being shot in the kneecaps over and over.

Posted by admin Rodney