Where lies your homeland, And where is your hearth, Where’s best the sunrise, That pulls at your heart? It is where my folk wander, Through mountain and glen, There soars the great eagle, It is home to the wren.
Where lies your homeland, That makes your heart ache? Where river or forest, Sweeps down to the lake; I dream of the poplar, The ash and the pine, It’s where my folk wander, From their age to mine.
Where lies your homeland, That lures you again, That pulls at your heartstrings, Yet pulls them in vain? It is where they will gather, The wheat from the past, Then cast the seed wisely, So people may last.
“I have visited lairs, burrows and nests across five continents, observed the curious habits of magical beasts in a hundred countries, witnessed their powers, gained their trust and, on occasion, beaten them off with my travelling kettle.”
Another alternative for making maps! Instead of candy or rice
Very useful for people like me who have a very hard time picturing topography. After you finish sprinkling and molding to your heart’s content, take a bunch of photos from all sides so you can make visual note of it however works for you!
I needed a more 3D option since I have a hard time planning the climate of whatever land I’m making. Knowing where the mountain ranges and valleys are makes it a lot easier to know weather patterns and where to put cities–usually along the best to travel routes and by port access where water is easiest to sail.
The 60-square-metre cabin designed by
Gonzalo Iturriaga is named in RF C9, and has a basic suite of rooms consisting of two bedrooms, a bathroom and a large living room. It is designed to offer a simple space where its mountaineer owner can rest. An irregularly pitched roof and sides that slope inwards give the structure its faceted form. One triangular plane folds down from the roof to shade a stretch of decking that extends out from the lounge.
Follow the Source Link for images sources and more information.
Where have all the good men gone And where are all the gods? Where’s the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night I toss and I turn And I dream of what I need (x)
When my heart is aching, and when the pain feels like it won’t subside, I just remember that the sadness will pass and soon I can be in the mountains where I’m happiest, and where I forget about all my worries. I can be beneath the towering sequoias, be upon the scent of pine, and breathe in the sweet fresh air deep into my lungs. I just need to remember that I’ll be with nature again,I’ll feel okay again soon.
“You shouldn’t make friends with crows.” “Why not?” He’d looked up from his desk to answer, but whatever he’d been about to say had vanished on his tongue. The sun was out for once, and Inej had turned her face to it. Her eyes were shut, her oil-black lashes fanned over her cheeks. The harbour wind had lifted her dark hair, and for a moment Kaz was a boy again, sure that there was magic in this world. “Why not?” she’d repeated, eyes still closed. He said the first thing that popped into his head. “They don’t have any manners.” “Neither do you, Kaz.” She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.
This one came in as a proper ask before Jas and I closed the ask box, but when I started to work on it, I accidentally clicked “respond privately” instead of “save to drafts” because I derped. So I told @dalishelves to go ahead and send it as a fanmail so I could finish it. This is probably the only incident where we will accept a fanmail request, due to the circumstances. With no further ado…
Cassandra: She pauses, wipes off the snow, and smiles at them as she tosses a snowball back at them. They’re a bit surprised that Cassandra is game, but they giggle and reach for another ball, and a fight ensues. Cassandra laughs as they do, and fights surprisingly hard and well with snowballs. When it’s done, both are covered in snow, and she’s smiling brightly.
Blackwall: The snow sticks in his beard, and he grins. “If that’s how you want to do this, so be it.” He says before engaging in a drawn-out snowball fight. Several of the others join them, and Blackwall is, for once, laughing and grinning, even as he takes a snowball to the face.
Iron Bull: The Inquisitor knows better than to go after the Ben-Hassrath with a mercenary group alone. So they gather the other companions who will fight with them– Cassandra, Blackwall, Sera, Cole, Harding, and after a bit of persuasion, Dorian– and they throw the first shot. As expected, the man grins and wipes off the snow, enthused. “If you want to play like that, Boss– game on. Chargers, assemble!” With that, a large snowball fight ensues, as both sides vie for victory. Bull has the time of his life.
Varric: He groans and grumbles as he brushes the snow off. He hates snow. It never snowed in Kirkwall. “What is this white bullshit falling from the sky?” he had grumbled just before he got pelted by a snowball. He picks up a snowball and throws it back at the Herald before retreating back inside to a fireplace.
Sera: She smirks and cackles. “Oh, it’s on now, Herald!” She grabs her own and throws it at the Herald, and a long snowball fight ensues. Both laugh and laugh the whole time, and soon more people join into the fight, no one on anyone’s team but their own. They settle later in the tavern with a cup of something hot and giggle. “That was good. You’re not so bad at snowball fights.” Sera compliments. “Next time, let’s aim at some noble nobs. Or Cullen. Or both.”
Cole: “Cold, icy, but no malice. Fingers prickling from the cold, but not minding. A war with no death or anger or hurt. Okay!” He throws a little snowball back at them, because they want to play, and as they laugh, he feels happy because they’re happy.
Solas: When the snowball hits him on the back, he stops short for a moment as the Herald laughs. He slowly turns to stare at them, and then a smirk graces his face. Magical snowballs pull up from the ground around him into perfect balls, and that is the point the Inquisitor realizes they fucked up. They laugh and scream as they are pelted with the snowballs, and they try to fight back in one of two manners: if a mage, they summon their own snowballs, since Solas changed the rules, and fight back. If not a mage, they duck for cover and scramble to make their own snowballs to throw back at him.
Dorian: He sputters in surprise at the Herald, as in disbelief that they actually did what they did. There is a moment’s pause, and then it happens. “As you wish.” Like Solas, he summons several snowballs from the ground and fires back, resulting in a miniature snow war. He regrets it later as he shivers inside the library.
Vivienne: Her magic stops the snowball in its place. It floats for a split second in the air before being hurled back at the Herald, and it hits them square in the face. Vivienne gives a tsk, a smirk, and shakes her head at them. “Darling, you thought I wasn’t prepared for that? Bastien would try to do that to me every time I was home and it was snowing.”
Leliana: She stares at them for a moment, and after a moment in which they realized they fucked up, they flee before they see the spymaster smirk. For the rest of the day, snowballs hit them at random from various locations, but they can never find the perpetrator. In the war room later, Leliana is trying not to laugh as they walk in covered in snow. “That was fighting dirty.” they scold, and she just snickers and tells them they need more practice before they come after her.
Cullen: He groans as the snow gets caught between the feathers on his coat, and wryly shakes his head at the Herald. He’s too busy to fight back proper, but he does return the strike with a snowball. “We’ll have a proper fight another time, perhaps.” he says.
Josephine: The Herald does not hit her with a snowball while she’s working. They know she probably wouldn’t care much for it in her current outfit, but if ever an appropriate opportunity arises, Josephine is surprisingly good at dishing out snowballs, with remarkable aim.
She’s kind, funny, graceful, kicks butt, and destroys all the stereotypes. I love that she punches Zoisite in the face before even becoming a Sailor Senshi. I love how she defends Usagi at the beginning of Stars. She also always has really interesting episodes (like the one where she trains in the mountains).
No one wakes up in the morning thinking they’ll forget to take their enzymes, but it happens. The reality is that, while it’s not the end of the world, it’s the beginning of a new era—one where tackling the mountain is about being honest with yourself.
I need women in my life that are hungry to be more than wives (which there is nothing wrong with that wonderful goal!)
I need friends that are on the hunt for best life has to offer
I’m talking girls that are starting companies and landing careers in fields that terrify them.
I want to surround myself with exceptional women pursing frightening life goals, dreams so big they overwhelm.
And most importantly, women That. Keep. Moving. Forward. No matter how huge the mountain.
Where you guys at? Tell me what you’re doing, tell me why it’s scary, tell me why you wouldn’t want to do anything else.
‘Araya Flamefist hails from a monastery deep within jagged and forbidding Spine of the World mountains, where discipline and attaining balance of all four elements is valued above all else. Her eagerness to prove herself in battle and tendency to seek out combat whenever she could was what ultimately saw her sent out into the world to recruit new acolytes for the monastery. Together with her raven Tenzin, her elvenphant Kyoshi and a group of adventurers that are almost family to her, she now battles the Cult of the Dragon… or Dragon Club, as she has taken to calling them.’
~ This engaging fire genasi Monk was commissioned by the gratuitous Charredlore, for one of his adventurers.
‘Located within the North Ward of Waterdeep, just off to the side of the High Road, lies Lingrim’s Lustrous Loot – a shop that sells magical weaponry, armor and trinkets. It is owned by Grimhildur Goldenshield and Aralinathra Syolkiir: an incredibly enthusiastic Dwarven lass with the most marvelous of crimson beards and her long-suffering, tall and graceful moon Elven wife, respectively. They were all too glad to finally find a group of adventurers that they could sponsor in return for a hefty increase to their revenue. Contracts were signed, garbs and armor enchanted with their insignia, and off into the world Araya and her friends went to foister faintly sparkling pamphlets onto just about everyone.’
~ This fancy shield belongs to the OC’s of Charredlore. A crest design in the distinctive golden ‘Dwarf-Deco’ style in combination with a stylish purple ‘Elf-nouveau’ (or ‘Elvendstil’ if you like) eye, if I may be so bold to label the styles myself ;)…
Solas: I must say, Inquisitor, that you have not entirely turned out to be the brutish human oaf I had expected.
Solas: Indeed. When you were first brought to Haven as a battered and belligerent captive, I must admit I feared the notion of someone like you wielding the power you now hold in your hand. But I was mostly mistaken. Fate might have done worse.
Solas: And thus you continue to surprise me. To not rely upon magic– a TEMPLAR, of all things– and yet you are here seemingly effortlessly. Undoubtedly it is a side effect of the Mark you bear.
Carver: Wait, what do you mean here? You mean this isn’t Haven and I didn’t just wake up from a shitty dream where a mountain fell on me? Ah, tits. It’s the Fade, isn’t it?
Solas: The confusion is to be expected. As I said, you are no mage and–
Carver: No, it’s not that. It’s just that when my brother went to the Fade, there were proper demons there. Like a Desire demon and a Pride demon. And since you’re not trying to seduce me while wearing metallic nipple covers, I’m guessing you’re NOT Desire– though that is now a mental image I’m going to have to live with– so what… Pride? Are you Solas or are you a really shitastic Pride demon that specializes in backhanded compliments? UGH. DAMN IT TO THE VOID. THIS IS THE WORST THING EVER.
Solas: The Fade or– *sigh* You’re not still imagining me in metallic nipple covers, are you?