#cauld

[autumnslance]

Added my ladies to page 6, post#56, on this feedback thread on the NA forums cuz the lack of darker-skinned examples in the graphics and model updates discussions is...concerning to many people.

My example images come from the Dark Knight lvl 50 "Our Answer" cutscene 2, the ARR story climax for that job. The lighting does change a little depending on if doing it during the day or at night.

C'oretta and Dark, for instance, I replayed the scene at night.

For Aeryn and Iyna, I tried during the day.

I only cropped, no other post-processing, and only a barely-there gameplay shader (removes the "gray" and gauss blur effects).

Also for reference: here's my characters' skintone selections, lightest to darkest: C'oretta, Aeryn, Dark, Iyna--who is similar in tone to Erenville, set to be a major figure in Dawntrail, and who wouldn't be the first important NPC to be badly lit and nearly invisible in dark rooms and nighttime scenes.

Not to mention all the roes, elezen, miqos, and auri who have not only dark but fantasy skintones a variety of colors and how obvious it is, from shadowed to washed out, that the game's environmental colors and lighting are NOT tested on anyone but pale-skinned base races.

So give feedback, politely, on the graphics changes you want to see, and those you don't, on the forums.

[soup-mother]

i saw a vintage poster the other day advertising "come cool off in [state i live in]" and the advertised average temp was a good 2°c lower than it is now or something like that.

[nightmaretherabbit]

Xp-pen tablet warm-up doodles

Salvador,My Sona(Nightmare), and Dice (lost ones Au)are all mine

Luci design belongs to @hey-imma-fangirl

The cupchal drawing is for @firecurls-27

Tea belongs to @marshmallow-biscuit-blog

And Ron belongs to @zibiscusloon

[maypoleman1]

3rd July

The Cauld Lad of Hylton

The Cauld Lad of Hylton. Source: wearsideonline.com

On this day in 1609, a young groom named Roger Skelton fell asleep in the stable to Hylton Castle, near Sunderland. He was supposed to be readying a horse for his impatient and pathological master, Richard Hilton, owner of said castle. When Roger failed to appear, the infuriated Hilton descended on the stable and struck the unfortunate lad over the head with a pitchfork. Roger later died of his injuries. Although Hilton was brought to trial, he got off on what would today be termed a technicality when he claimed that a large tool had fallen on the stable boy’s head, an unlikely tale that was nonetheless confirmed by another servant who claimed to be a witness. Roger did not rest easy however, and he returned in the form of a goblin like creature known as a brownie, who overnight disrupted the rooms of the castle that had been left tidy, but was compelled to clear up any area of the house that had been left a mess. Because of his pinched appearance, the household servants who spotted the poltergeist named him the Cauld Lad of Hylton because he always appeared to be freezing.

All the Cauld Lad wanted was bread and milk for his labours and the servants soon worked out that if they left that meagre repast out, they could also leave unwashed pots, disordered furniture and unmade beds, knowing the ghostly Jack would put everything right while they slept. In time, the servants began to feel guilty because the Cauld Lad sang a song of woe about his plight, so they broke the spell the time-honoured way: they left a cloak and a hood one night next to the bread and milk for Jack to find. That evening the servants watched from a hiding place as Jack delightedly discovered the garments and after happily singing Here’s a cloak and here’s a hood - The Cauld Lad of Hylton will no more do good, Jack warmed up, and danced around the kitchen and out of the open back door. The Cauld Lad was never seen again in Hylton Castle, or indeed anywhere else.

[driftward]

💭💭💭💭

Zoissette on Aeryn .oO ( I should speak with her once we are done in Omphalos. Oh, and I need to ask her for advice... again. I hope she does not mind. ) Zoissette on Dark .oO ( She has not lambasted me over the investigation fiasco yet... and signed off on my sabbatical. I owe her one. ) Zoissette on C'oretta .oO ( I really do hope she and Reinhardt are keeping each other out of trouble more than they are getting into it. WHY DO I KEEP THINKING ABOUT THIS. )

Zoissette on Iyna .oO ( Ever quiet and competent. I hope she is not put out too badly about the investigation. )

Nyx on Aeryn { It has been a while since she has done something entertaining. I should watch her for a bit. } Nyx on Dark { Mission report completed and turned in. She has been one of my better commanders. } Nyx on C'oretta { I should proposition her. To see what happens. } Nyx on Iyna { Excellent friend. }

[autumnslance]

Aeryn: Born in Coerthas (Eastern Lowlands, now the Shatter frontline), but spent ages 5-24 in Thavnair (which...how is that not on this list? Aside from tumblr limits)

Dark: Gridanian, born and raised in the East Shroud.

C'oretta: Born and raised in Ul'dah.

Iyna: Born somewhere in Ilsabard, but she was very young when it was taken by Garlemald, and she was shipped to an orphanage/military school to be turned into a good little civilized Garlean citizen (it didn't work very well).

Please feel free to elaborate in the tags!

[archivist-crow]

The Haunted Atlas

Cauld Lad of Hilton (Hylton) Castle - Northumbria, England, United Kingdom

54° 55' 26.40" N / -1° 26' 27.60" W

A helpful but mischievous spirit, half brownie and half ghost, who once haunted Hilton Castle in Northumbria, England.

According to legend, the cauld lad once was a stable boy, Roger Skelton, who was killed in 1609 by Lord Robert Hilton in a state of passion. The lord ordered the boy to fetch his horse and became enraged when he failed to do so quickly enough. He stormed into the stable and struck the boy with a hay fork, killing him. He tossed the body in a pond.

The spirit, a naked boy, would make nighttime visits to the kitchen of the castle, in a wing built in 1735. He was seldom seen, but was often heard singing sadly. He made clean what was dirty, and if he found no work to do he made dirty what was clean, and mixed the salt, sugar and pepper and upset the utensils and dishes. He is said to have once given a terrible fright to a servant who liked to sneak drinks from the cream. Once while doing so she heard a voice over her shoulder say, "Ye sip, and ye sip, and ye sip; but you never give the Cauld Lad a sip." She fled in terror.

The servants eventually banished the spirit by laying out a cloak and hood of fairy green one night. At midnight the Cauld Lad appeared. He donned the clothes and gamboled about the kitchen all night. At the hour before dawn, he drew his clothes about him and said,

“Here's a cloak and here's a hood: The Cauld Lad of Hilton will do no more good.”

With that, the spirit vanished forever. Hilton Castle is now in ruins.

Text from The Encyclopedia of Ghosts and Spirits, Third Edition by Rosemary Ellen Guiley (Checkmark Books - 2007)

[pandolfo-malatesta]

O, Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast

Oh wert thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea; My plaidie to the angry airt, I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee: Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a’, to share it a’.

Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, The desert were a Paradise, If thou wert there, if thou wert there. Or were I monarch o’ the globe, Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign; The brightest jewel in my crown Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.

-Robert Burns

[autumnslance]

GAMMA SLIDER

0, 50, 100 on the Benchmark's Gamma slider in the "Display" tab in Settings. Messing with this can adjust how much light comes through your screen; it's pretty simplified from the in game setting.

If you're experiencing some character color washout even after checking other settings, give this a try. Then make any potential color adjusts in chargen.

[autumnslance]

Dark, C'oretta, & Iyna: Yes; they have no mercy, absolutely do everything they can to win. Aeryn, it depends.

Dark is straightforward; she's ridiculously tall and strong.

C'oretta mostly straightforward but also using applied science and also being as annoying as possible cuz she's known Thancred since she was a teenager and he was in his smarmy playboy demeanor so he gets hassled like she imagines an older brother would.

Iyna cheats, in various ways, rarely the same twice cuz it's Thancred, so has become its own game between them.

With Aeryn, like in all their bouts, spars, practices, and competitions, it depends on the day. Sometimes she wins, sometimes he does. Sometimes it's straightforward, sometimes one distracts and teases the other. Sometimes there's mitigating factors, like still recovering from injuries or whatnot. So depends.

[charlott2n]

its so awesome that animals are cauld fauna like. deers won. lol

[shcynetopps]

dropping some ships & characters part II 

[autumnslance]

Dark's chocobo is bandit, and his playful personality is based on a horse my family had when I was a girl.

Aeryn's chocobo Snowlight has her own lore story that was inspired by the Legacy Chocobo's description.

C'oretta's chocobo is Rosa, following her usual color scheme.

Iyna's chocobo is Free, a red bird she named for their shared new state in life.

I've seen a couple of people share their WoL's chocobo's names so far, and they're all ready cute, so I'm gonna take advantage of my platform to ask:

What's your WoL's chocobo's name?

I'll start: mine is Edwin! Because he kinda looks like an Edwin.

[ltwilliammowett]

Superstitions of Scotland's fishermen

Perhaps due to the dangers of their profession or their interdependence, fishing communities developed their own unique customs and folklore. They were close-knit and conservative, and their names, food and way of life differed from those of the neighbouring population. There was often rivalry even between different fishing villages, and they rarely married outside their own community.

Because of the dangerous nature of their work, they were unusually superstitious, as were all those involved with the sea. There were words that were considered very unlucky, for example the word minister was never mentioned - he was called the man in the black coat, and the words hare, salmon (red fish), rat (long tail), pig (curly tail) and salt were among the most forbidden words. If the men came across a hare, a dog or a red-haired man, they refused to set sail, and if they found a rabbit, a hare, a pigeon or a dove on board, they certainly did not disembark. The antidote to bad luck was to touch cauld iron.

Other customs were associated with sailing and fishing. For example, it was bad luck to cast the nets on the port side, to taste the food before the first fish was caught or not to take the blood of the first fish. In some places, fights were instigated so that blood could be spilt before the fleet set sail. Some boats were considered unlucky in themselves because they had the wrong names or did not behave according to the rules. One way to avoid bad luck was to never row against the sun (anti-clockwise) when leaving the harbour.

Rituals and spells were said to influence the weather. It was believed that you could whistle up the wind or untie it with special knots in a rope - one knot would cause a breeze, the second a hurricane and the third a storm. The weather was always expected to change on a Friday.

In some areas, other days of the week had special significance, bringing either good or bad luck. For example, most communities did not fish on Sunday, even though it was considered a lucky day. It was believed that work started on a Saturday took seven more Saturdays, while work started on a Monday was quickly completed.

Before a young man could become a fisherman, there were initiation rituals where he had to prove himself, and even today, customs and superstitions still influence the life of a fisherman. Echoes of the old customs can still be found in the villages today. However, as you may have just realised, this type of superstition is confined purely to Scottish fishermen, these types were also regularly found on ships. The reason for this was that many sailors came from the fishing villages as well as their compatriots, and so their superstitions and rituals were taken on board and spread.

[karlachismylife]

Don't You Forget About Me

Since @killerpancakeburger already had the most perfect Soap idea with this prompt, I decided to sit and think: what would be the situation where Soap actually didn't wanna kiss? Mission imposible?

Well, I might've found the solution.

CW: reader is Soap's mother (literally), so (potentially bad) Scottish yelling and scolding, very silly and unserious, not even pretending to be realistic.

(Title fom a song by Simple Minds)

You were going to give him a piece of your mind alright. He had always been a troublemaker, the sole source of white and grey peppered in your respectable hairbun, but the bare minumum you expected from your eejit of a son was to take your words seriously when you asked not to go to that mission. That one mission, mind you, out of every crazy and dangerous endeavour your Johnny got up to since before he could walk properly (although he skipped the phase entirely, immediately opting to run) - you always supported him and tried to be understanding.

You flicked his nose when he came home dirty after playing football in the rain and prepared warm dinner while he cleaned himself and washed his own clothes like a good boy. You sighed and ruffled what was left of his hair the day he returned with that moronic haircut, beaming like the sun itself. You slapped upside his head and scolded him before pulling out his favourite out of the oven after he was kicked out from whatever military base he tried to sneak into to be like his cousin.

Johnny could call you strict, scary and warn all his mates of you with a shit-eating grin all he wanted, but you were sure you had never given him a reason to believe you would worry over nothing.

"Dinnae fash yersel, Mam," was all you got after a hearfelt and arguemented plea to stay away from trouble this time, along with a kiss on a cheek, and there he went.

Not so fast, John MacTavish.

Of course he got his stubborness and determination to get whatever he wanted from you. The amount of times he ran off before he was of age just to try his luck and get enlisted? The clenching of his proud Scottish jaw as he pushed himself to do better, lift heavier, shoot sharper, run faster? Once Johnny was set on something, he went all-in. Too bad sitting still and quiet in school never got to be one of his priorities even for a week. But that's how you raised him, and if anyone could match him, it was you.

You were suprised how easy it was to bully and bribe your way into the base. Just an unthreatening older woman with some home-cooked pie, already sliced up for the sweet, sweet boys at the entrance.

Och, yer Ma' usually bakes these too? 'N' wi' some carrot? Ye should ask her fur a recipe, leannan, Ah will lea' ye mines sae we can exchange. Ah actually hae mah laddie right there oan th' base, he's a sergeant, aye, mah muckle laddie. Ah wanted tae surprise him wi' his fave', bit didnae ken tis sae secreteve 'ere… Mibbie ye could pass it tae him? Och but it'll get cauld 'n' nasty… Och, ye will let me in fur a few minutes? Well aren't ye th' sweetest wee jimmies. Yer Mams must be proud o' ye, Ah ken Ah'm, knowing such mighty lads are protecting us.

Breaching the first line of defence was a piece of cake - well, pie. The second went even smoother, no one paying attention to you as you simply floated along the perimeter, avoiding miscellaneous looks from busy officers and privates bustling about their day. Hiding in plane sight, not even trying to blend in - you minced in your old trusty shoes up to the big area with several aircrafts scattered around.

Aha. That's your goal. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and moved to continue your way, when someone finally noticed your unwanted presence.

"Is that a... who the hell let a civilian in the landing zone? Oi! M'am! M'am, stop! M'am, you're not supposed to be here!"

Hearing someone's heavy steps picking up behind your back, you kept your steady stride for a few more moments, eyes scanning the vast plane of the zone, determined to find at least someone you knew - and they you hit jackpot. Loud thumping of helicopter blades, distant at first, grew rapidly, almost deafening at the point when someone's heavy hand grabbed your elbow.

"M'am, are you lost? It's dangerous here! DAN-GE-ROUS!" The officer yelled into your ear, probably both hoping to overpower the landing helicopter and thinking you were old, frail and deaf.

Such a naive lad.

That metal bird barely stopped chirping before you wriggled out of the officer's grasp and sprinted towards several tall figures unloading from the helo. Your target stood straight, big headphones denting his ruffled mohawk, already up for a trimming. He definitely heard the officer's loud yelling, turned around, curious as ever, and locked eyes with you - all laughter wiped off his face immediately, baby blues he inherited from you round and popping out of their sockets.

"Mam?! Wha' are ye doin'-" - "JOHN MACTAVISH! Dinnae "mam" me, ye reckless bampot! Ah didnae raise ye tae be a sleekit potatoe waving yer own mother off!"

You jumped away from the officer who almost caught up with you and used your purse to shield yourself from him, never losing pale and positively terrified and dumbfounded Johnny out of sight.

"Get awa' from me, ye eejit, that's mah son 'n' Ah'm talking tae him! Look at me, Johnny!" You finally reached him and tilted your stern face up, glaring at yout sheepish son. His eyes stopped darting around and snapped directly at you. Still a good boy, after all. "Dae ye hae any idea how worried Ah was? Come 'ere now or Ah will drag ye by yer scruff, Ah swear. Come 'ere!"

You reached up to cup hus face, noticing a fresh bruise and a split brow, your motherly heart aching, but still proud that your wee boy came back from a dangerous operation alive. With teary eyes, you tried to pull him in for a big forgiving smooch, but he finally unfroze and pulled back, slowly starting to go red in his cheeks - so his ears must have been burning for some time already. Still, you looked at him, outraged, and huffed, propping one hand on your hip.

"What? Ah wanntae kiss mah laddie!" You could see Johnny's face flush brighter, mortified expression cut into his pleading eyebrows. He shouldn't have been doing that, that nasty scar was bleeding hardeer, your poor wee boy.

"''ere?! Richt naew?!" Before you could even start scolding him for denying his own mother such a simple thing, someone else's rich voice cut in through barely suppressed laughter.

"Come on, Johnny, tha's no way to talk to your mother. Be a good boy 'n' give 'er a big kiss." Recognizing Ghost from your laddie's tales wasn't hard at all - you met his dark, hooded eyes and gave him a firm, grateful nod, which he reciprocated with a gruff chuckle.

Defeated, Johnny leaned down, sliding his headphones down to his neck, and didn't even hiss as you yanked him by his ear lower to give him a loud, loving smooch on his cheek.

On the way out they sourced four big lads to escort you. As if the whole army would be able to stop you if you decided to give your son a proper whooping.