#necropolis real

[ateneomuseoutoplia]

Un singular paseo por los monumentos funerarios y los más bellos mosaicos figurativos de Pagos nos permite ahondar en la vida y muerte en Pafos, a través del mito y la imagen creada.

[ceo-of-sloppy-men]

Closest thing to fucking a professor I’ll ever get.

[get-more-bald]

the fuck do you mean I have to leave....

[popsicle-stick]

Vampires crawling out of that thang...

literally. mina batting them all back like whack-a-mole

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 5

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[There are also a series of 'lil snippets' posts where I was just chucking together bits and pieces that I saw at other times: one, two, three, four, five, six]

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and/or played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a ‘regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

For notes in here on community council things in particular, I recommend to listen to the vid directly, it's always better hearing things first-hand ^^

Character Creation

"The diverse body and gender options make it an industry leader by a signifcant margin" [source]

"BioWare was keen to highlight the hair strand technology that looked very similar to that seen in FIFA and EA FC, also made under EA's roof" [source]

"Fine tuning sliders that allowed for microscopic adjustments of nose angles, it was clear that a lot of options exist to get the smallest possible body parts exactly right" [source]

"There's no specific genital customisation to be oversold as CDPR did but, much like Saints Row, there is an option for bulge customisation" [source]

Pronoun choice, gender identity, body type, and voice choice are 4 separate options, not tied together [source]

Height is customised on a slider [source]

Size is customized on a triangle like in Saints Row: the 'points' are fat, slim and muscular [source]

The different lighting options are 4 different settings: clean, bright, dim, sunset [source]

In CC you can also try out what Rook looks like in their starting rags, in typical mid-game armor, and some level 50 gear (class appropriate for each one) [source]

There's a way for you to modify your character's look once the game has started if you want to make some tweaks [source: the official Discord]

You can be any class and choose any backstory/faction, any race, any gender [source]

Story and lore

On meeting Neve in the opening, if Rook chooses to say the positive dialogue option (I think this is the thumbs up one, "You rescued yourself, I see") they say something like, "It looks like you're doing pretty well by yourself huh?" [source]

According to someone who played the game at SGF, the game has a Mass Effect 2 Suicide Mission feel to it [source]

The Shadow Dragons are kind of an anti-Venatori faction, sort of. [source] A freedom force. [source]

The Mourn Watch are kind of like the police for the Grand Necropolis [source]

The Veil Jumpers are kind of like weird magical investigators, weird magical nerds [source]

The moment right after the gameplay video ends is 👀❗❗...? [source]

On the timeskip, the Community Council were told that they were going to make it about the same amount of time in-game as the amount of time that passed in real life from the time most people would have last played DA:I [source]

Rook's faction is also referenced outside of the intro segment of the game [source]

In the gameplay reveal video that we saw, some of the Evanuris statue assets at Solas' ritual site are doubled up in error, i.e. some of them have the wrong heads. This is not supposed to be the case, they are supposed to each have a different head (bear in mind this was an early build and isn't the final build of the game) [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Go [here] to see some DA:TV doodles of the characters that a dev drew this year and last year. :> the hidden doodle is a version of Rook, hidden as they have not yet shown any of the possible hairstyles for Rook outside of the gameplay reveal video. [source]

It is Lucanis who has the purple wings [source]

His name is pronounced "Loo-khan-ess Day-ah-MORT-ey" [source]

Lucanis is hands-down "the sole dumpster fire of the crew". Mary "wrote him specifically to be a bisexual disaster of a human. You're welcome." [source]

As a name 'Rook' is closer to 'Inquisitor' than 'Hawke' [source]

The Community Council highly requested there to be 4 voices for Rook. They kept bringing it up [source] (there are 4 voices for Rook)

The Solas face model has been tweaked "a hundred times" [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Rook can jump [source: the official Discord]

Rook can sprint [source: the official Discord]

Warrior gameplay (or at least one build of this) involves doing the right parry timing to lead to a certain attack [source]

Warriors have a dropkick ability, enemies can be dropkicked off cliffs using this [source]

According to someone who played the game at SGF said that the game ran smoothly and didn't have any bugs [source]

Companions can have an ability that heals Rook even when they are not mages [source]

Sword and shield warrior's ranged skill is like, boomeranging their shield over there [source]

In terms of the 'the game isn't open world, it's mission-based' stuff, it could be likened to Trespasser in this regard [source]

The first time the Community Council played, they asked if there is a photomode. BioWare said no, and the Council were like 'aw that really sucks, we really wanted one'. The next time that they went to play it, BioWare introduced them to a dev and said "Okay, we have photo mode, all thanks to this guy". "So there is one particular dev we all need to be kissing the feet of" because he figured out photo mode. [source] [nb, more on the Photo Mode situation here]

The current build of the game is not the final build of the game. A few things are currently being vigorously worked on [source]

Other

Someone who played the game at SGF was told that all of the choices and consequences were in the game, and that basically the team are just polishing things up right now [source]

The number of community members on the Community Council is in the double digits and they are from all walks of life. They don't have any contracts which say that they can only say positive things; they can be as negative as they want about DA media. Not every member of the council has said publicly that they were part of the group, there is nothing mandating them to do so [source]. They have not played the full game [source] and they tested it on consoles [source]. A lot of them ended up liking the gameplay [source]. They played some of the main story but they don't know how it ends. At one point they did three days of playtesting from like 9am-4pm daily. "I liked the quality, I liked what was going on, I was very invested. I did have some worries from the first playtest that were completely resolved in the second". "If you are someone who is into the story, I think we're safe, in the clear, I think we're okay. What I saw, I was really enjoying, I'm really excited about" [source]

The name change also surprised the community council. They aren't keen on the 'the'. There are a lot of things that they said to BioWare which, sometimes things just cannot change as it's too late. [source]

They did not see the finished game trailer before it released, and at that time it might have had a different song in it. They fed back that the version of the trailer that they saw was fine (what they saw was a bit different) [source]

BioWare have data on the percentage of people who used tactical view in DA:I and it's in the single digits [source]

Upkeep of the The Keep is a lot and it goes down like once a month. There have been times when it was down for weeks at a time [source]

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Ghoul Rules

Brian McNaughton: Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this the tale of the throne of bones McNaughton: ok so get this what if there was a whole giant necropolis full of ghouls McNaughton: and also ghoul fuckers

McNaughton: we follow Blux Beepo, a local pervert who considers himself an artist and his medium is ghoul fucking McNaughton: now Blux Beepo may not be the darling of the elite critics who prefer the more commercial pop art of quiet seduction, who recoil at his garish colors and violent juxtaposition of light and shadow, but the true connoisseur recognizes in his work a rare talent

McNaughton: Blux Beepo's playful conflation of form and void shows his artistic soul Edward Lee: bro? Lee: bro are we still talking about ghoul fucking? McNaughton: oh yeah of course

McNaughton: now Blux Beepo just wanted to be left alone in his secluded study so that he could study the sensual art of ghoul fucking McNaughton: but then this real annoying girl shows up who just won't leave him alone McNaughton: she's also a ghoul fucker but in a tawdry way McNaughton: it's not highbrow like when Blux Beepo does it

McNaughton: Even so, Blux Beepo can't stop thinking about this annoying girl McNaughton: who laughs in the rain, wears ribbons in her hair, and dreams of getting pounded by ghoul dick McNaughton: but no joke i need a girl like that McNaughton: sigh McNaughton: someday i'll find my manic pixie dreamghoul

McNaughton: guys do you ever think about what it would be like to have a big titty goth ghoulfriend McNaughton: i just think it would be pretty great McNaughton: we could eat corpses together and fuck in absolute filth

Poe: how exactly does this work with ghouls? Poe: are they a different species or something? McNaughton: oh no no no they're people who just really liked eating people McNaughton: you know what they say McNaughton: get a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life McNaughton: you know if you fall asleep thinking ghoulish thoughts and dreaming ghoulish dreams, you might just wake up as a ghoul McNaughton: it's like becoming a dragon in narnia McNaughton: ie extremely cool CS Lewis: what? no!

Lewis: becoming a dragon is bad, actually! Lewis: you totally misunderstood what i was saying! Frank Belknap Long: yeah sure "becoming a dragon is bad actually" get a load of this guy

McNaughton: there's guys who want to fuck ghouls and ghouls who want to fuck guys McNaughton: Ghouls who are guys who like guys to be ghouls Who do guys like they're ghouls, who do ghouls like they're guys McNaughton: Always should be someone you really love Brian McNaughton: the thing is, being a ghoul...? McNaughton: it's pretty cool McNaughton: pretty cool to be a ghoul Franz Kafka: god i know Kafka: sometimes i just lie in bed, wishing i was one Kafka: oh god please i wish i was one McNaughton: wishing you were a ghoul? Kafka: what? a ghoul? oh no sorry i misheard you Kafka: i thought you said Kafka: um Kafka: um never mind Barker: no Barker: what did you think he said? Kafka: nothing Kafka: it's nothing Barker: franz Poe: clive Poe: clive stop

[nerdanel01]

Substitutionary Satisfaction (18+)

Emmrich Volkarin/F!Rook 4k+ wc | NSFW/18+  Agnes unravels a bit after having to share a tent with Emmrich in the Necropolis five nights in a row.

EXCERPT: In Rolf’s bed, for a brief period of time, all was possible: that neither the professional boundaries nor the age difference between them would stand between them. That Emmrich would one day stop seeing her as a young girl and instead as a woman, that one day he might even love her. 

9:38 Dragon

Agnes had only been in the Necropolis for two weeks—no longer than any of the other expeditions she had undertaken with Ser Volkarin over the years, but it had felt far longer. The last days of their trip had passed with excruciatingly slowness. To Agnes’ great relief, when at last they had ascended, back to the upper levels of the Necropolis where the Mourn Watch remained in permanent residence, it was dinnertime. 

That, at least, was one aspect of her position within the Mourn Watch that Agnes could wholeheartedly embrace. Nevarrans were passionate about food, and the Watchers were no exception; the guard employed a fine cadre of cooks who ensured that the Watchers had three set meals a day, each served at designated, regularly scheduled times in the dining hall. For those Watchers who may have missed meals during their shifts patrolling the Necropolis, the kitchens were always prepared with finely cut cheese and fruit waiting—perhaps even warm bread and a bit of stew if you caught the kitchens at the right time. 

But for once, it was not the complex depth of flavors of the food, nor the full belly that would follow that Agnes looked forward to. The kitchen had prepared one of her favorites—a savory oxtail stew, prepared with spices in the Antivan style—but Agnes had little appetite, picking at her food perfunctorily with her fork. 

Rather, Agnes’ relief came from the fact that the dining hall was (as usual) loud; cacophonous; packed with Watchers. The two long tables that stretched down the narrow hall were packed full. Beside Agnes, Ser Volkarin was regaling Commander Johanna and any other Watcher who cared to listen with the details of their recent trip. 

Which meant, at last, a welcome reprieve from Volkarin’s attention.

The bond between them (ordinarily quite amiable) had come under uncommon strain during this last trip. On the ninth day of their fortnight-length journey, they had lost one of their supply packs under pursuit from yet another of the Necropolis’ uncatalogued denizens. Due to the loss of supply, Agnes had suggested—rather strongly—that they turn back attempt to make an early return to the Mourn Watch. But Ser Volkarin, after taking stock of the supply that remained and determining it was to his satisfaction, had insisted they complete the original expedition as planned.

A consequence of which was: for the last five nights of the trip, Agnes and Ser Volkarin had been reduced to sharing one tent.

If the lower levels of the Necropolis were not so dangerously cold, Agnes would have slept on the floor outside and let Volkarin have the tent to himself, rather than suffer the discomfort of sharing that narrow space. As it was she had spent the remainder of the ninth day dangerously distracted by thought, problem-solving, trying to figure out an alternative to the inevitable. But at the end of the day, when they pitched the tent, when Ser Volkarin slipped inside… Agnes felt she had no other real option but to join him. 

If this unexpected intimacy perturbed Volkarin in the least, he gave no sign. But from the moment Agnes entered the shared tent on that first evening, she felt herself begin to fray. The little sounds Volkarin made when he slept, great contented sighs and the occasional soft snore. The regular rhythm of his breath. His body, close enough to touch deliberately or accidentally—touching her already, really, his back brushing against hers ever so slightly when he drew in a breath. Frightened she would become drunk on the smell of him.

By the twelfth day of the trip, Agnes found herself snapping at Volkarin over the littlest things. Rebuffing his praise of her; rebuking him, occasionally. There was no hiding her irritation from him, and although Volkarin seemed confounded by this sudden change in her demeanor, he was graceful enough not to comment upon it, a fact for which Agnes was most grateful. 

How was Agnes to explain to him that she was irritable from lack of sleep? That she had spent the last three nights awake, back to back with him and stiff as a board, clutching her arms tightly around her own body like a straightjacket for fear of how those same arms might betray her if she allowed herself to slip off to sleep?

Now, at dinner, Volkarin was more than happy to give Agnes plenty of space. Agnes did not blame him. The last day, in particular, had not been pleasant between them. Though they sat side by side at the same long table in the dining hall, they were in separate worlds: Volkarin, chatting excitedly with Johanna about one of the crypts they had come across in the Necropolis and Agnes, exhausted and yet still wound awfully full of tension she could not release, picking disinterestedly at her stew.

“And goodness, the details on the facade of the Van Wyck mausoleum! The vibrancy of the colors, Johanna! I really should show you Agnes’ sketch later, it is a shame we did not have any colored pastels or something of the like for her to try and replicate those incredible hues…”

Unengaged as she was in both meal and conversation, it did not take Agnes long to notice Watcher Rolf was watching her, staring at her across the room from the opposite dining table. At first Agnes thought their eyes had simply met by coincidence. But then Rolf lifted his spoon to his mouth and, eyes trained on hers, licked deliberately and lasciviously along the spoon’s curved bowl. That, Agnes was certain, was deliberate. She fought the revulsion in the pit of her stomach, and repressed the urge to roll her eyes. The man was a total ingrate. But…

“In the Ghentsburg ossuary Agnes found this breathtakingly detailed mosaic of beetle-wings—in the magelight, Johanna, it sparkled like the sea under the sun…”

But that did not stop Agnes from rising to follow Rolf when he left the Dining Hall several minutes later, leaving Volkarin and Johanna behind, following Rolf wordlessly into the dormitories and then across the threshold into his private chamber. 

Rolf’s hands were on her waist the moment they reached the room, before he’d even had the decency to close the door behind them, still open to the hall for anyone who cared to glance inside and see him groping at her. But with Rolf, at least, Agnes felt no burden to hide, nor protect him from the tension and irritation that had been building within her for going on a week. She wrenched herself out of his grip and slammed the door shut behind them. Rolf only laughed lightly in response, somehow childishly amused by the fact that she had no desire to be caught in flagrante delicto by any other Watcher who might care to pass by.

But then Rolf was muffling that laugh against the back of her neck, running his wide hands up the front of her body, thigh to stomach to breasts, and Agnes released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, relaxing back into the touch. He kissed a path from her shoulder to her ear, sucked on the lobe rapaciously as he began to free the buttons on the front of Agnes’ blouse. 

And although all common sense made clear it was Watcher Rolf behind her and no other, Agnes closed her eyes… imagining another room, another’s hands, another’s soft breath on her skin. 

Substitution. A practice highly cautioned against in alchemy as in other magics, where the reaction between elements was so finely calibrated that any errant inclusion could throw an entire spell catastrophically awry. Substituting one herb for a like one could result in a far less effective concoction—or one that was outright dangerous. 

But sometimes, in life, when one did not have access to what one wanted—what one, perhaps, needed—such substitutions, perhaps, could not be avoided.

Behind her, Rolf whispered against her ear, sullying the illusion: “You are so beautiful,” he told her, shelling her unbuttoned blouse off her shoulders, cupping at her breasts.

A hot flash of irritation shot through her. Rolf knew their rules. Agnes turned in his arms to give him a look of darkest reproach, commanding him, “Do not speak.”

Then, she began to push him back towards the bed.

Like most of the great disruptions in Agnes’ life, this recent arrangement with Rolf had come about entirely because of the meddling of her father. 

Now that Lord Halkias had successfully married off all of her younger step brothers and sisters, he had turned his attention back to Agnes: his bastard, eldest child. His spare. At the time, Agnes had not heard from him since she had been dispatched to the Circle at Perendale twelve years ago. In fact no one, neither her father nor step siblings (nor of course Lord Halkias’ wife, who despised her) had written her so much as a letter since she had left the estate at age fourteen. That had suited Agnes just fine, as she was perfectly content to wash her hands of them and the six years she had spent on the estate. 

Suddenly, however, Lord Halkias seemed to have been awakened to the unexpected value of his bastard child. Through no encouragement nor support of his own, Agnes had managed to earn herself a position in the Mourn Watch, one of the most prestigious designations within the Mortalitasi. Among all of his children, Agnes was the only mage. And it seemed he had finally put two and two together, and determined that though he himself might see little worth in Agnes, someone else indeed might—a connection to the Mourn Watch was, among certain elite social circles, a highly desirable thing.

So, at the ripe age of 27, when most other noble women had already had their first if not their  second or third child, Lord Halkias was trying to arrange a marriage for Agnes—a goal which Agnes herself was determined to frustrate. Long ago, however, she had learned the best policy of resisting her father was passive. Rather than challenge him outright, she went on each of the dates that he arranged for her… and followed each with a scathing note to Lord Halkias on why that particular individual was entirely unsuitable to be her spouse. 

Which was how she had ended up, one sunny afternoon in Nevarra City, sitting and sipping coffee and nibbling on cakes with Watcher Rolf. 

Lord Halkias’ had thought himself clever for suggesting the match; Agnes could tell from the tone of his letter. Rolf was a second son of a powerful Cumberland family. Though Halkias made no mention of it, Agnes was certain that Rolf’s family held charter to either a shipping contract or some other mercantile advantage Halkias wished to take advantage of. In addition to that, Rolf was remarkably well matched to her in age (which had not been the case with all of her father’s choices), and he was himself part of the Mourn Watch. Ostensibly, that gave them a level of common ground on which to build a romantic relationship upon. 

But the entire experience had been excruciating. Agnes had not spent much time with Rolf before that afternoon, but things became clear to her within several minutes of sitting down. Rolf clearly thought himself funny; in Agnes’ opinion, he was absolutely not. He also clearly thought himself handsome, with his green eyes and his straw colored hair, which Agnes supposed might have been true if you liked that sort of thing. Worst of all, he had no intellectual depth or curiosity to him whatsoever.

Truthfully, neither Rolf nor any of the suitors her father set her up with had any fair chance to make an impression upon her.  Agnes spent her days with a man she had privately come to think of as one of the most brilliant minds in Nevarra, if not in Thedas writ large. Not only that, he was uncommonly chivalrous and kind... and Agnes would prefer the warmth of his dark eyes to Rolf’s greens any day of the week. 

How could anyone, anywhere, possibly measure up to Emmrich?

At the cafe in Nevarra City, when Rolf had called for the bill, he had asked Agnes when they could see each other again. Either he had failed entirely to observe her total lack of interest in him, or else he was utterly undeterred by it. Perhaps, Agnes mused, in his feeble mind, the afternoon had been a resounding success.

Agnes had paused over the rim of her teacup, surveying him. His confidence, his eagerness, his plain attraction for her, unreciprocated though it might be. 

“Other than passing each other occasionally within the walls of the Necropolis?” she had told him, casually. “We will not see each other again, I am afraid. Not like this, as a potential romantic courtship.” 

“However…” Agnes had continued, hardly believing her own gall, fighting the blush in her cheeks and keeping her eyes fixed on her tea and not on Rolf’s face, “while this brings a swift conclusion to our romantic exploration, that does not mean I would be opposed to a strictly physical relationship. If that were desirable to you.”

Which was how she hand ended up back in Watcher Rolf’s dormitory that very same night, her knees planted in the carpet, her face buried in his lap… imagining that the hand running through her hair and tugging at her scalp was Emmrich’s hand; that the thighs trembling under the pleasure of her mouth were Emmrich’s thighs; that those were Emmrich’s appreciative low groans of arousal. Dripping wet, fingers crooked deeply inside of herself, Agnes had finished even before Rolf had, moaning her release around his cock as her body filled with lightness.

It was an arrangement Agnes had never imagined herself a part of, at that moment, she found herself strangely thankful for it. She had spent the last five nights strung tight with desire, wanting so terribly to act on it, knowing all the same how completely catastrophic that could be for her, both professionally and personally. One way or another, she needed a release.

They had backed up to Rolf’s bed, and he was lifting the hem of Agnes’ skirts. But, “Not like this,” Agnes commanded, turning in his arms to face the opposite direction, bent over his mattress, facing the headboard.

A low huff of something—appreciation? Vulgarity?—came from behind her, and she felt Rolf’s hands palming over her ass as he told her, “You sure do prefer it from behind, Gallatus.”

Facing away from him as she was, Agnes was free to roll her eyes at that comment. What an idiot Rolf was, what an ugly and crass thing to say. ‘No, I simply don’t prefer you, but I am left with no other recourse to scratch this particular itch.’

But the irritation only lasts a moment, soon replaced by a sense of delicious, tight anticipation in her chest at the light chime of metal on metal, Rolf uncinching his belt. Agnes released a long, slow exhale, fisting her hands in Rolf’s bedsheets, and closing her eyes.

Transporting herself.

…Over the years she had only caught the tiniest peeks at Emmrich’s private rooms through his doorway, but the luxurious burgundy color of his bedsheets had pressed itself irrevocably into her memory. And it would smell so keenly of Emmrich, there, just as it had in the tent—like bergamot and pepper and dusty old tomes. Her imagination transfigured the chiming of Rolf’s belt into the clink of Emmrich’s bangles, the bracelets that adorned his arms, the many jeweled rings on his long fingers. 

When he entered her, Agnes was not thinking of Rolf at all.

She was thinking of all the things that she wanted but could never have. Of Emmrich’s hands on her body. The same elegant, well-manicured fingertips that would point out the most fascinating passages to her in whatever book or scroll he was reading; the same tanned, long-fingered hands that caressed her drawings with such reverent wonder (to be looked at once by him the way he looks at her sketches!); the same hands that now dug deeply into the meat of her hips, drawing Agnes’ body back towards his as he sheathed himself totally inside of her.

Agnes’ hand flew to her mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure and sheer relief that flooded through her, the warmth spiraling out from her stomach and flushing out into her limbs. The euphoria of fullness, the wanting in absence, and then the exhilarating rush of fullness again as Emmrich drew her back against him. The wet sound of their copulating, soft living flesh smacking against flesh and skin and meat each time Emmrich’s hips met the curve of her ass. The light rake of his nails down her bare back, his little huffs of breath as he thrust behind her. Giddying, mind-numbing joy as his fingers carefully unpinned the crown of hair around her head, sending black waves tumbling down her shoulders and around her face, running his fingers through it appreciatively.

In no time Agnes was writhing beneath him, arching her back to meet each of Emmrich’s thrusts, leaning into them to drive his cock deeper inside of her. So rapturous so gratifying so good one almost forgot to breathe, but then when one did—! Rockets of pleasure shooting through her body, coiling tight, driving her relentlessly towards her finish. 

Imagining the look on Emmrich’s face. His beautiful eyes, his mouth open and slack with pleasure. The drag of her name in his throat, what it might sound like spoken hoarsely around his satisfaction: “Agnes.”

Climax took her, white lightning of pleasure reducing her body to a trembling, sparkling, magnificent mess—all the tension she had carried in the Necropolis utterly unspooling into a warmth that carried her out of herself into a space of pure bliss, stifling her answering cry—“Emmrich!”—against the back of her hand. 

As the pleasure faded, so too did the illusion Agnes had constructed for herself. Eyes blinking open to Watcher Rolf’s messy quarters, not the precise and homey cleanliness that was the hallmark of Emmrich’s space. Reality creeping back in. 

This was why she maintained the arrangement, why she kept returning to Watcher Rolf though the man objectively disgusted her. In Rolf’s bed, for a brief period of time, all was possible: that neither the professional boundaries nor the age difference between them would stand between them. That Emmrich would one day stop seeing her as a young girl and instead as a woman, that one day he might even love her. But every time—as the pleasure faded, as her heart rate slowed, and her reason was restored—so was Agnes’ certainty that Emmrich would never see her that way. That this—fucking Rolf—was the closest she’d ever get to feeling what it would be like for Emmrich to reciprocate her feelings.

Strange combination. To be so fucked out and spent and tingling with pleasure, and to be utterly heartbroken at once. 

Agnes sniffed, stood, swept her hair out of her face. Then, without a word to Rolf, she turned and began to collect herself, pulling on first her smallclothes, then her multiple skirts, then hunting about the room for wherever it was that Rolf had flung her blouse.

“You don’t have to leave, you know.” Rolf had stretched himself across his bed, naked body glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. “You could stay.”

“Why?” Agnes cast him the most uninterested of glances. “We both got what we needed, did we not?” At last she found her blouse on the floor and pulled it over her shoulders, buttoning up the front and straightening out the cuffs of her sleeves. 

Rolf hesitated. That was unusual. He had an outsized confidence; hesitation was not really part of his playbook. Then he asked her, the tiniest edge of hope creeping into his voice:

“I know that’s what we arranged. But don’t you think this could be more than that?”

He might as well have proposed they pack up and run away to Ferelden together, for the wild look of shock and refusal Agnes gave him. “No,” she answered, immediately, without emotion or empathy, or even the slightest bit of guilt. “Goodnight,” she told him, then slipped out the door.

She had just finished pinning back up the last of her hair, restoring her pristine image of neatness when none other than Emmrich himself rounded the corner, making his way to his own rooms to retire for the evening.

“Good evening,” he greeted her; then added, with a delighted, conspiratory smile, “You left dinner early. Have you been spending more time with your young gentleman friend?”

How was it that nothing seemed to escape his notice—except for her affection for him, which grew more and more impossible to conceal by the day? 

Thinking of the way Rolf had licked his spoon at dinner to summon her, Agnes’ upper lip gave a nasty, disgusted twitch. “He is no gentleman.” Not compared with the gentleman in front of her, the very standard of courtesy and honor, genteel and sensitive. 

Emmrich’s brows knit together. There was a sudden tension around his mouth, a darkness and an intensity in his eyes that Agnes had not seen before. 

“What do you mean?” he asked her, his voice direct and serious, something threatening in his tone. All the charm and joviality stripped from it. “Did he—has Rolf made an unwelcome overture to you? Did he try to force you?”

Protective. That’s what the look on his face was. Worried about her, concerned for her, ready to rise to her defense if needed. The rush of love Agnes felt then was so powerful it dwarfed the endorphin rush of her orgasm only a few moments before.

“No!” she was quick to cut him off, to assuage his worries. “No, it’s nothing like that.” In fact, the thought would have been slightly laughable, had Emmrich not been so visibly concerned for her. Pound for pound Rolf may have had an advantage over Agnes, but there was not a single mage among the Mourn Watch who could outmatch Agnes in close quarters combat. If Rolf had ever tried anything like that, she would have had no trouble putting a stop to it with a swift dislocation of his arm—or worse. 

“Honestly, Ser Volkarin, it’s just that Watcher Rolf is so impossibly dull.”

Emmrich looked at her blankly for a moment, then laughed, all the tension in his face dissipating with that sound. Agnes loved his laugh, a study in contrasts: Emmrich was so civilized and dignified, but his laugh was an almost sinister cackle, and it built upon itself as his mirth swelled. “Oh, poor fellow,” he said, at last, looking almost on the verge of tears, so delighted he was and relieved to hear his initial suspicion was incorrect. “So that will be the end of it, then? His loss, I am sure.”

“Most definitely his loss,” Agnes said, returning Emmrich’s smile. This was what it was meant to feel like between them—the easiness of a well-worn friendship, not the tense bickering that had filled the days preceding. But while the lone, shared tent might have contributed to that bickering, Agnes still new (in the illumination of her post-fuck clarity) that her behavior towards him had been abysmal, and it was entirely her own fault. 

“Ser Volkarin, I’m sorry,” she told him, softening her gaze. “The last few days, I know I have been… less than pleasant, to be around. Our last descent was unexpectedly trying for me, but I will endeavor not to react that way in the future.”

“You are always a pleasure to be around,” Emmrich told her without missing a beat. Such warmth and affection in his gaze. “It is my fault as much as yours. You wanted to turn back; I insisted we press onwards. Forgive me, for my stubbornness. Shall I make it up to you now? Would you like to stop by the study for a pot of tea before we retire? You are welcome to tell me all the ways in which Rolf is an unsuitable match for you.”

How she would have liked that! If she had ever imagined anything happening between her and Emmrich, that was often how she pictured it: late night, all softness and tenderness spilling over into something new and other. The temptation to accept Emmrich’s offer was powerfully strong.

But she was very cognizant of the pressing need for her to take contraceptive herbs with her tea—something that would absolutely not escape Emmrich’s notice, and something she had zero interest in explaining to him.

“As much as I’d like that, I’d better not,” she told him. “After that trip, I am very much looking forward to my own bed.”

“Very well.” Was it just her imagination, or did he look ever so slightly put out by her refusal? “Pleasant dreams, Agnes. See you in the morning.”

[egypt-museum]

Gold Head of Horus

Old Kingdom, 6th Dynasty, ca. 2345-2181 BC. From Kom al-Ahmar Necropolis. Now in the Egyptian Museum, Cairo. JE 32158

This exquisite gold head of the falcon god Horus, lord of the sun and patron deity of kingship, was found below the floor of the main chamber of his temple at Hierakonpolis, north of Edfu.

The head, which is made out of beaten gold, was fixed to a copper statue of the falcon Horus. It is topped by a twin-plumed headdress and decorated with a royal uraeus, or rearing cobra. The eyes are inlaid with rounded, polished, obsidian pieces, very similar to that of the real bird.

Read more

[dirtyhecker]

i'm sure this has been done already in the hours since these images came out, but i think i've got these companion bedrooms sorted

this one is definitely Bellara. everything we've seen of her so far, with the gyroscopey magical stuff, and that one concept art of her with that exact statue head, makes it seem obvious that this is her room. it also looks like she's into art, given all the paintings, and area rugs? what's with all the rolled up rugs, Bellara. i like her little daybed, and i wonder if her vallaslin are supposed to be for Ghilan'nain, given the halla decoration on the wall.

this one has to be Neve. she's got a whole detective conspiracy wall back there, sans the red yarn. there's some real organized chaos going on with the stacks of books, and the scrolls all over the place. i'm pretty sure there's a pot of tea on her desk, and i see several half-burned candles, despite the several magical lamps and pendant lights, not to mention the enormous windows and ambient Fade-light. i wonder if it gets dark out where they are? also her chair looks very fancy, but i don't see a bed anywhere.

this is Taash's room. they've said she's a gym bro, and there is a weight lifting thingy to the right, in front of that pillar. it's weighed down with sacks of flour, it looks like lol. i wonder if its functional, or just static decoration. i also see crates of weapons, and maybe some kind of forge in the bottom right? and right behind that is a pretty barebones bed. maybe she gets cold, because her bed is surrounded by fire. idk what's up with that table on the left, but everything else looks pretty sparse.

this one i think is Harding's room, but only by process of elimination. the metal bars in the window give dwarven vibes for some reason, but i also see a couple elfroot plants. there's a ton of plants, actually, all over the place, but i don't recognize the others. and there's that sad bedroll on the floor, though the rest of the room looks like my kind of place tbh. maybe it's from years spent as a scout, camping in the wilderness. i suppose this could be Bellara's room instead, but i doubt it.

i thought this was Lucanis' room, even before someone pointed out that it was a larder. i know the devs have said he's a good cook, but i didn't think he'd literally want to sleep in a pantry 😭 this makes me think he's just trying to be as unobtrusive as possible or something. there's also zero personal touches, like i zoomed in and that plywood cot is just surrounded by candles. are you okay buddy??

this one seems like Davrin's to me. he's said to be a monster hunter, and there's like a chandelier made of dragon horns or something up there? and a huge spine? plus multiple skulls of large beasts. i don't see a bed but i think it might be in that far corner next to the hearth. also there's a ton of wood carvings. so many. mostly bears and what look to be bobble-headed nugs, and at least one dragon. if Griffon Dad gives me a nug carving i will cry.

lastly, this has to be Emmrich's room. if the giant skeleton statue on the left wasn't enough of a clue, then idk what to tell you. there are basically the exact same ones in the necropolis, but much bigger. this does look like a laboratory, and an extremely well-organized one at that. i imagine Emmrich's bed is up that spiral staircase somewhere. i keep mentioning the beds because i need to know that these people are actually sleeping between quests, ok.

anyway, that's my professional analysis. i love you, goodbye.

[vintagerpg]

Country Sites (1995) is the last of the site series of sourcebooks (another was planned — Planar Sites, but that turned into Vortex of Madness a couple years later). This is better than Castle Sites but a tiny bit inferior to City Sites, I think? It’s close. The upshot is that this is a book full of high quality material that is just shy of system agnostic, and thus a resource for all sort of RPGs.

There are two sorts of site here, minor and major. All of them include maps, history, NPCs and other necessary information. The minor sites are a bridge over a gorge, a fort, a toll house and a riverside inn. They are brisk little things, peppered with adventure seeds.

The major sites are more like short, open-ended adventures. There’s a haunted temple, a tent city in the caldera of a dormant volcano (is it a caldera if it is dry? I dunno, but this is not a lake), a necropolis, a floating ship’s graveyard (not unlike Hodgson’s Sargasso stories), an island prison, a big old wall and a bizarre castle. A couple of these are immediately identifiable riffs on real-world locations — the last seems like Bavaria’s Neuschwanstein, the wall is obviously Hadrian’s, the necropolis draws from the mastaba tombs surrounding the pyramids of Giza, the prison echoes Alcatraz. These all boast quite a bit more material. The ship’s graveyard seems particularly robust, with ten separate ships detailed (though no seaweed people, alas). I like pretty much all of this stuff, but I like it slightly less for those real world connections. They fix them in my mind in a way that is unhelpful and a bit prosaic. I expect that is my own damn problem, though.

Excellent illustrations throughout by Phillip Robb. Dennis Kauth did all the cartography, which is a clear selling point of the book and does much to evoke the site. I love Jennell Jaquays’ cover here, too. This one feels almost Games Workshoppish.

[inventors-fair]

Common Wonders Entries!!!!

Segovian Reviver by @dimestoretajic

Sphitten Pupil by @sparkyyoungupstart

Sphinx Hatchling by @pinetreequestionmark

Scrub Hydra by @curiooftheheart

Diminishing Hydra by @cluelesswanderer

Telepathic Sphinx by @hanavesinauttija

Necropolis Hellkite by @misterstingyjack

Immersturm Worlds-Runner by @spooneater457

Triplicate Hydra by @wildcardgamez

Curious Fledgeling by @an-anarchist-shapeshifter

Watcher Sphinx by @helloijustreadyourpost

Rite Angel by @izzet-always-r-versus-u

Nayan Hydra by @tanknspank

Ore Lair Hydra by @masternexeon

Prescient Hatchling by @bergdg

Tar-Blood Legions by @feyd-rautha-apologist

Plated Hydra by @piccadilly-blue

Emergent Demon by @xenobladexfan

Spectating Amesha by @edenzom

Spiteful Dead by @corporalotherbear

Riddledeath Sphinx by @i-am-the-one-who-wololoes

Carnarium Auteur by @grornt

Inquisitive Dragon by @nine-effing-hells

Well Wyrm by @demimonde-semigoddess

Hydra Egg by @nyxbird

Fettered Fiend by @yourrightfulking

Wingbound Hellkite by @hypexion

Angel-In-Training by @horsecrash

Hoard Guardian by @kalinary

Budding Hydra by @real-aspen-hours

[akirenhell]

"I am ghoulified...Inside youuuu~"

Soooo, even though I haven't played any of the games, the Fallout brainrot got me tight enough to binge the TV show AND learn some of the lore, cause HOLY SHIT, the attention to detail they put into it is impressive.

As some of you have probably seen, I did show some sneak peeks of this guy a few reblogs ago, but now here he is in full color!

Sooo, this is Mucky, a rather special ghoul due to the fact his hair has actually survived the massive doses of radioation he has gained and his incredibly slimy and filthy skin, which always looks like its melting down from intense heat. He's a bit of a celebrity in the wastelands, strolling around with his band looking for a good place to perform his music (which is the equivalent of 90s industrial rock, mind you).

Personality wise, he's pretty crass and cocky, but if you hit his right points, he can get pretty shy and flustered. Regardless, he's not exactly an asshole, for he can be pretty polite at times despite how violent his music can be.

(Backstory and fun facts under read more)

Before the Great War, Mucky's name used to be Michael (something he has long forgotten about). He was considered an outcast due to his rather radical way of thinking and not following the "American norms" of what's good and not, especially when it comes to music, one of his few favorite pasttimes and the only way he had to fully express himself.

However, ironically enough, music was also the thing that almost lead him to his doom. One day, the once human called Michael actually managed to release an album of his own music, and even though it wasn't a massive hit, it was very well beloved by specific groups of people, which were those that were unsatisfied with society.

Due to the fact his music could be considered "commie propaganda", Michael was almost murdered for this by none other than the Enclace. Yet oddly enough, what saved Mucky was the same thing that doomed humanity, for his failed assasination attempt happened the day the bombs fell.

Despite getting severely burnt and hit with a massive dose of radiation for him to turn into a ghoul, Michael survived the attack by hiding in a sewer, where something strange happened. Call it whatever kind of luck you want, but due to the radiation and his slowly melting skin, his body managed to mutate with the sewer waters, thus turning him into a foul smelling, slimy ghoul made of muck.

Hence his new name: Mucky. Promptly given by those who considered him a freak of nature (mostly humans who hate ghouls, obviously).

The rest of the years after the war remain fuzzy, but eventually, Mucky, alongsides a group of ghouls that found comfort in his music, made their way towards Necropolis, the city of the dead; where the filth ghoul settled down and, with an uncertain future but a strange yet newfound liberty, he started to work in his new albums to share with the rest of the wastelands. Be it with humans, ghouls, super mutants, it doesn't matter; for music is one of the reasons why he managed to remain sane even to this day.

And maybe the real reason why he hasn't gone feral yet.

Post-Fallout 1, Mucky obviously left Necropolis due to the Master's invasion on the city. Thankfully, he didn't leave alone, for two super mutants actually joined him as bandmates thanks to his mercy.

And so begins his life as a rockstar in the wastelands.

Facts:

-Mucky has a little cat companion he named Scatticus, which he found in an abandone vault where they ran cruel experiments involving both animals and humans, which Scatticus is the only that remains. The cat, oddly enough, can talk due to a device that is linked both with his collar and his brain, and he's a sassy little bastard.

-Mucky has a love-hate relationship with old, 50s music, which really was another reason why many considered him a weirdo in pre-war times.

-Due to an incredibly strange chance of luck (and possibly genes), Mucky is one of the rare exceptions in which a ghoul could become a super mutant. While exploring a vault to look for equipment he could use in his instruments, the ghoul got ambushed by a pack of irradiated wolves that gave him chase, with one of them alongsides him falling into a vat that was full of an alternate, very rare version of the Forced Evolutionary Virus. From it came crawling away a large, filth covered wolf, the complete contrary of the scrawny ghoul.

Luckily, if you can even say that, once he grew exhausted enough, Mucky reverted back to his ghoul form. However, there is still the chance he can revert back to that hellhound, especially if there's massive amounts of radiation neraby...

-Mucky is originally from Ohio, but due to the fact he spent pretty much of the time out in the open after the war "touring", that gave him a great amount of knowledge regarding the wastelands and the commonwealths he could get in. If you need a trip somewhere, he will gladly take you there. Though, he might ask for something in return...

-Mucky can be pretty skilled with technology, even using pieces of weapons as ways he can improve the sound of his instruments when playing.

-He's a huge menace to both the Enclace and the BoS, especially with the fact his skin and foul stench can corrode metals. Yes, even the one from a power armor.

That's as much as I can name about him, but if you have any questions about Mucky, please ask! I'm pretty new into Fallout, so if I have made any mistakes or it's there anything I could change, please do let me know, cause really, I mostly made this OC for fun.

[garagepaperback]

squabble

ii.

Something his mind-healer might have been very interested in, if he ever became the kind of person to admit the whole mess to her: he preferred to watch the arguments.

He wasn't looking for insight, he didn't try to make any more sense of it than he had at the time. That wasn't how this worked, anyway; it was a memory, not a recording. There was just Harry's side of things.

Draco: smug, bone-curlingly cruel, bratty, cold. Needy, annoying.

There was the time less than a year in, the first Christmas at the Burrow, lying separated in mismatched sleeping bags. Draco whispered furiously under a shoddy patchwork of silencing charms, making Harry into a bulletin board of all the failures he'd tallied up through drinks, dinner, after-dinner drinks. Harry felt every pin pushed in, missed entirely the curation of the lance, the mangled asking for support, affection, words they didn't have words for at the time. He watched himself on a loop, turning away, shoulders set, hissing back, shut up, I don't care, Jesus, can you let one fucking thing go.

There were vacations and grocery runs, marathon arguments over an ugly pair of flannel shorts, all positions taken up for the sake of the podium - the put-on theme of the battle was irrelevant.

It might have been helpful, having the mind-healer's insight. Not helpful enough that Harry would talk about it, but he occasionally wondered what Carlye would say. Like what it meant, for instance, that Harry wasn't interested in a solution or even witnessing the resolution. He simply wanted to be there again.

Inside, when it was ugly and brutal and tedious and infuriating, it was at least in a suspended state of when. If the quarrel hadn't finished, it meant they were still in something, together.

The fights were worse than he remembered too, which was odd, being that it was his remembering he was watching. He'd gone back to it at first for reassurance - good riddance, fuck it, fuck this.

Instead, worse, he found he missed him even more. Harry watched and missed him horribly, missed him the real way, bitter and fumbled, all the before.

-

There wasn't a last time.

Well, there had been, but Harry kept it in a glass vial at the bottom of a drawer. He slept next to it. The nightstand was an unassuming cherry wood, the memory lay buried under a quick-scrawled necropolis. An entire archive of anachronistic affection.

One from Draco five years ago, running out to pick up an order he'd put in for some rare potion stock, a jotted note just so Harry would know, wouldn't have to hold the weird blur of his absence for more than a moment. Birthday cards, really sappy Christmas letters, Draco a year and a half ago, wishing him goodnight. He'd gone to bed before Harry made it back from work, from the pub, from an elsewhere that hadn't mattered enough to remember.

That was the thing about time - it was impossible to make sense of when it happened. There was only the briefest glimpse of a single object - an emptied ring box, a sand-encrusted shell, the iron latch of an undone gate on the spotlit allotment of a stage. You had to wait for the rest of it to be set, for the curtain to pull back and the dialogue to begin in order to understand the play.

But this way, he could have it unfinished. Choices weren't chosen yet, he could carve out the after. The pensieve filled and memories unwilted, cut flower stalks without roots. Stilled in the before, it could stay just like that.

The bouquet of antecedents was neatly trimmed, the scent overwhelming. Almost alive. Peonies made of promises, lupine grins, days of buttercup yellow and thistle and dried lavender, the nights of unfurled moonflower, thorn-toothed white roses - all the garlands of him, Harry's to hold. To keep holding.

for day 16 of @microficmay

[itstimetotheorize]

A peculiar sky

...Something has been bugging me... and it has something to do with the sky. Upon the release of the Little Nightmares 3 trailer, it had become apparent nearly everyone who watched the trailer quickly noticed the heavy yellow/orange atmosphere of the desert where the Necropolis resided. This was of course strange to many because we were not accustomed to such a bright environment. But all the while I and other theorists stared at this yellow/orange sky, we realized something...since when does such a sky exist in the Nowhere?

In Very Little nightmares we see the Nest is surrounded by a peculiar brownish green cloudy sky. In Little Nightmares we see this same peculiar sky after Six escapes the Maw, and again in the concept art of the Maw.

Now, why is this so odd?...its because there are no blue skies in the world of the Nowhere...because there is no real sun. So then...what is the bright ball of light shining in the Nowhere? Well...what if we always knew, and what if the comics already gave us an answer.

We have always theorized many elements of the 2017 Little Nightmares comics could still be used for future content, after all, the Ferryman's existence was still hinted to be part of the world upon discovering a picture of him and his boat in the Maw, leading many of us to realize there was still a possibility details of the discontinued comics could still be used to understand the world of Little Nightmares and the characters which continued to exist in game. And if the comics still hold some truth to them just as it did for the Ferryman, then it means the "sun" we see rising from the ocean outside the Maw, is not a sun...it's an eye.

In the sounds of nightmares, Noone provides details about the world of the Nowhere, revealing to us the many locations observed in the world are not necessarily part of some bigger world, they are individual locations residing in individual eyes, circling around the giant pulsing red eye entity. The many eyes Noone saw is the Spiral, a cluster of dystopian lands. And just as Noone stated, the locations she encountered are all connected, but they work independently from each other, like floors to a building. What does this mean? it means the Nest and the Maw also reside in an eye, but we have theorized neither the eye's nor the eye entity itself, have the capability to mimic a true sun to create a bright blue sky, and if the eye entity cannot replicate a real sun, it cannot replicate a real moon, it simply remains hidden in the darkness within the Halfway place, radiating its bright hypnotic light and providing this light to its many eyes.

In terms of the Mall in chp. 3 of the sounds of nightmares, well, its just as Noone said, there was no sun in the sky, and if what we have theorized about the Mall is true, then the mall was not only left to wither and die for failing to live up to its existence, but also blinded to no longer receive the power of the eye entities hypnotic light, the very light which would have helped it gain control of the mind of a child such as Noone, to make her stay.

And I know what you are thinking, "Oh, but the Pale City had a cloudy blue night sky, how is it possible for it to exist if the Nowhere is unable to replicate a sun or a moon", And I understand this....but then again...we have always theorized the Pale City was not originally part of the Nowhere....and what if maybe...just maybe...neither was the Necropolis...But hey!, it's just a theory...a Little Nightmares theory!

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

Corinne: "I’m screaming alongside the rest of y’all! It’s happening!!!!" [source]

Nathan: "Thrilled to share our latest trailer! Very proud of all these animators." [source]

Trick: "There we go." [source] / "I hear there's something at this [trailer] link now." [source]

Blair: "LIVE NOW! October 31st 💜🐉🐺" [source]

Brianne: "It's almost here... So close..." [source]

Corinne: "I’ve held the dagger in my hands, and well, needless to say I can’t wait until my own personal copy arrives. I’m definitely not going to be unhinged. 🤷‍♀️" [source]

Bryce: "if I may workpost for a sec, I'm forever grateful for days like today when I get to gush about dragon age with the fans. this community is so welcoming and my heart is so full today 💜" [source]

User: "Of the new companions, who do you think would have the best chance of beating you at pinball?" / Corinne: "Bellara, definitely. As an Elven tinkerer with a curious mind and playful spirit, I think she’d be so into it" [source]

Brianne: "So excited to share more of what we've worked on!" [source]

Corinne: "Some of the best moments I have is reading through the team’s experience, highlights, and feedback for the game. You’re right - we do love it! It’s a wonderfully talented group of folks I get the pleasure to work alongside." [source]

User: "MORRIGAN!!!!" / Corinne: "Keeping this secret has been KILLING me 😊" [source]. User: "I can't wait to find out all the other secrets that you've got in store for us." / Corinne: "Oh just you wait 😉" [source]

User: "HER CROWN I SEE THAT CROWN." [re: Morrigan] / Corinne: "👀" [source]

User: "CORINNE! It looks so good!! I can't wait to play it!" / Corinne: "Thank you so so much! The team did such a fantastic job. It’s been a labor of love for so many of us 💜" [source]

Corinne: "Can’t wait to hear about your adventures and the decisions you’ll make.I immediately preordered another copy of Rook’s Coffer even though we on the dev team get one 😅" [source]

Corinne: "I’m in awe of what this team has created 💜" [source]

Corinne: "We’re all so proud of this game and I mean it when I say we’re are just as excited to get it into your hands and hear about your adventures as your are to play it.This team is truly a wonderful group of creative people. 💜" [source]

Corinne: "The team has put so much of themselves into this return to Thedas, and believe me when I say that it means so much to all of us to see and hear about your excitement 💜" [source]

Corinne: "I’ll be honest, it still doesn’t feel real to me either that we are so close now. We all hope you’ll love this return to Thedas 😊" [source]

Corinne: "I hope you’ll share a pic of the Rook you settle on when you emerge from Character Creator. If you’re anything like me you’ll spend a loooot of time lost in the options 😉" [source]

Corinne: "Rogue is so so good. The Veil Ranger specialization is absolutely one of my favorites" [source]

Brianne: "I'm excited to see everyone's Rooks! I really like the ones I've made." [source]

Corinne: "Happy to say this time around we’ll be able to support those flowing locks in-game" [source]

The Codex is "vast" [source]

User: "question, of our 7 companions, which is most likely to be up early and watch the sunrise , which is most likely one to sleep till noon?" / Corinne: "When you see Davrin’s room, you’d certainly assume he’d be up watching the sunrise with that view. If only it weren’t in the fade 😅" [source]

User: "For purely scientific and artistic purposes....is Emmrich taller than a female elf or roughly the same height?" / Corinne: "Well… usually taller, but y’all can control your characters height now so 🤷‍♀️😅" [source]

Malcolm: "To all the people excited about the return of Her.... same, fam, same. And by Her I mean Morrigan. Just... just in case that wasn't clear." [source, two]

Malcolm: "The level art team for DA:Ve are incredible. The environments they've built are gobsmacking. I adore what they did for the Necropolis in particular." [source]

Malcolm: "And Rivain is just... 👀 Seeing this one go from early greybox to full art was such a delight" [source]

Malcolm: [image of bby Manfred] "That's my boy!" [source]

[textblock character limit break!]

User: "*remembering all those dang statues in my origin story in DAO* ah shit that’s a lot of gods" / Brianne: "You'll be fine. You... May want back-up 😁" [source]

Brianne: "While on the topic of Dragon Age: The Veilguard... I just adore him. [image of Assan]" [source]. / John: "the team's official Assan photographer" [source] / Brianne: "When I said I'd capture one, two, several more shots..." [source]

Brianne: "There are some spooky places to explore" [source]

User: "I'm so excited :)))))) I hope I spotted the bun hairstyle of one of my favorite hammer wielding characters in the world <3" [re: image of character who is probably Evka Ivo] / Brianne: "Well, would you look at that :)" [source]

Mary: "[Assan] is the best character in the game. We all know this to be true." [source]

Blair: "everyone went nuts about baby griffon, but Manfred is my boy, my sweet cheese, etc. ride or die, Manfred 💀💜" [source]

John: "am I playing our game for fun on a Friday night, I certainly am. romancing my own companion to do one last check to make sure all the conditionals work. folks it is a very strange thing" [source, two]

Trick thinks the Spellblade spec is delightful :D [source]

User: "Is Solas speaking in the Hallelujah cadence at the beginning of the Release Date Trailer ? I'm trying to match it up but the best I can get is opposite stresses although the meter is 8/8/11" / Trick: "In DAI, only a relative few lines were in that cadence. He hauls it out for special occasions. :)" [source]

Original post: "I know that the AP Stylebook says the proper possessive form of Harris is Harris'. But the AP Stylebook also says not to use the Oxford comma. It's not a serious publication, let alone an authority on punctuation." Trick: "There was an actual voices-raised argument among the BioWare Writers and Editors over S-apostrophe vs S-apostrophe-S, along with threats made to writers who proposed character names ending in S in the future. Question time: Can anyone think of an antagonist in DA:I whose name ended in S? Corypheus's assassins' scimitars's's'' blades are coated with poison." [source, two] User: "I make everybody mad by switching between -s' and -s's depending on if the "s" represents a voiced or unvoiced consonant: Anders', but Fenris's." Trick: "I think that was very close to the consensus we landed on." [source]

Mass Effect

User: "fully accept that the answer may be "that was 8 million years ago I have no idea" but did you unilaterally decide to make Thane hallucinogenic when licked while writing ME2 dialog??" / Trick: "Yes. My intention was always that Mordin was trolling you there, but I don't think everyone took it that way. 🤣" [source]

[brekkie-e]

Since it's Dragon Age day, Im feeling nostalgic. So here's the real pale elf in my life. Criminal she can't info dump and speak Antivan in the actual game, but I love her to pieces.

Pros: Has useless info about the Grand Necropolis and you are gonna hear about.

Cons: has no eyebrows

Fav fact: since she sucks at magic, she actual predominantly fights with a sword and shield early on in the game. After meeting Dorian, he helps her develop a barrier technique to replace her physical shield and other fun magic buffs to being a melee fighter like strengthening her legs and stuff.