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Have you considered joining the community? Forum Search Options. Advanced Search. Pentax Items for Sale. Wanted Pentax Items. Price Watch Forum. List a New Item. Get seller access! Pentax Retailer Map. Sample Photo Search.

Recent Photo Mosaic. Today's Photos. Member Photo Albums. Exclusive Gallery. Photo Sharing Forum. Critique Forum. Official Photo Contests. World Pentax Day Gallery. World Pentax Day Photo Map. Articles and Tutorials. Member-Submitted Articles. Recommended Gear. Firmware Update Guide. Firmware Updates. Pentax News. These users Like steephill's post:. Photos: Gallery. Posts: 1, It does sound far fetched, because it would require the skills of an instrument maker and access to a machine shop Unless, as a matter of terminology it would simply mean the repair of a broken A-series lens using some compatible donor optical and mechanical parts from an M-series lens, which could be possible within limits.

Originally posted by steephill. These users Like Lord Lucan's post:. Posts: 8, Seems more trouble than it is worth. Why not just buy a working A lens? You would have to swap out the entire diaphragm mechanism. Aren't there other threads on exposure issues with M and K lenses where you simulate the A contacts. Something to do with the proportional movement of the aperture lever in relation to iris opening?

These users Like Not a Number's post:. Photos: Gallery Albums. Posts: 21, Originally posted by Not a Number. Originally posted by shyrsio.

Photos: Albums. Posts: 2, Close to wide open it won't be that obvious, but the further you stop down the lens, the greater your discrepancies from the intended exposure will be.

Originally posted by othar. Originally posted by Lord Lucan. I looked through that thread and it appears that at best the efforts were only partly successful. They were not complete conversions. What lens did you have in mind? Unless it is some very special lens such as an extreme telephoto, A-series lenses in working order are available relatively cheaply on Ebay. But that doesn't solve the difficulty of accessing the aperture ring. The "K" and the "A" Version of the 1.

Thus I would try to get a 1. I'm sorry, am I missing something? If you're talking about stop down metering using the green button it's already available in the K Is there any other option that the K3 iii has in this field that I dont know of, other than manually setting the aperture value for the exif? Please let it be the Aperture simulator reader.

Posts: 41, One can knock oneself out trying; many did in the early days of Pentax Forums. There is no way around the lack of proportional aperture actuation in the M lens. Style Selector. All times are GMT The time now is PM.

See also: NikonForums. Then he began talking to her like another person. But they do love to reuse everything. Also, you have to get stain-proof enchantments on everything so I understood the expense. She smiled. Despite himself, Ilvriss had to grin. The Drake went on with a sigh as she picked up the knitting needles. So it goes. She was knitting as she talked, with that ability some people had to knit without really thinking about it.

That told you they were the hardcore, real knitters, not the posers. And this job is…well, I have visited places like this before. Never here, but I ah, was reluctant to do so. My companions seem to think it will help. Word travels fast around here. It might, if you wanted it.

If there is anything to apologize for. I will pay the fee. Seventeen to go. While you wait, would you like to talk or just sit? Or you can sleep in the bed. All the time. You must have last come here as a young man.

They—do not tend to talk. Ilvriss shifted uncomfortably. This was not a subject of conversation one brought up in polite society. But this place was one of those areas not technically…Drake. It existed and they let it exist because it was better to have it than make it a crime, but they did not talk about it.

And he does talk with his favorite women. Shakra—I think she, no it was Aranna, actually—she told him about the Singer of Terandria, you know. But despite himself, twenty minutes later, he found himself asking questions like someone just discovering an entirely new culture or field of work. Other cities have none and it creates…danger.

Far better to have rules and guards and so on. Zeres banned it for nearly a decade when the Serpentine Matriarch, in her great wisdom, objected to it.

One of the Admirals got her to reverse it, which was good. Only for a year. Then I left. I came from the north. I was born in the north. I learned my trade from Human women. In safety, actually. I left to find my people, but this is my job. In exchange for fees, of course. And they can be…nearly as bad as any other gang. A kind of [Rogue] mixed with [Temptress]. Many of them were in my profession, but learned to defend themselves after being attacked.

Or they were recruited. He had no idea. Before he knew it, he was chatting about Izrilian gangs, and how many places Xesci had been. Yes, actually. I might be more…flirtatious. But at this point I might subtly suggest we be more intimate. Offer to get you something. Sit closer. She nodded. Incidentally—Ilvriss was not more attracted to her now than he had been when first entering the brothel. He did like her more, that was certain. Play disinterested and then slowly warm to you. Claim I was entirely fine with not having sex and then let you make me admit how interested I really am.

Or not a trap? She was shaking her head. Abruptly, Ilvriss realized he was overthinking this again. If she wanted to seduce him, she could. Mainly because this was a brothel. He sighed. It has been a while. I think I am tempted, though. There is nothing wrong with it. In that, your friend Brilm was the most wrong. Or anyone else before me, even Shakra, the Human woman you met. The management is sometimes clever. He smiled again. But he was curious now. And he felt the same niggling feeling at the back of his mind.

And if this is a trap to fully seduce me, please let me know. This is why I should watch myself. She tossed down the needles, surprising Ilvriss. For a moment her voice changed. He looked at her. How did that strange woman put it? The rest is the truth of what I offer.

Very well. Or do. I…am going to show you something that might upset you. The dress came off. Ilvriss saw a bare back and hesitated. He made to avert his gaze from her tail, at least, but nothing amazingly different made itself known in the brief glimpse his mind now had on auto-replay in his mind.

Nor did Xesci turn around. The Drake clapped her claws and the room went dark. The magical light spell was programmed to turn off when someone did that, apparently. He was tensed, his other claw ready to trigger a spell from one of his rings.

But she would have gotten him naked without his rings or equipment if it was, surely. He looked around—but the Drake was alone. Standing where she had been. But not the same. She was facing him. He hesitated, but she was clothed. She wore…. The Wall Lord saw what might have been enchanted leather. Snug, secure.

Not enchanted. But it should have been. Her scales had changed color. The Drake was taller. Her scales were light blue. She had a scar on her forearm. She was younger. She was no longer ordinary, indistinguishable from a thousand faces.

He knew this face. He knew this Drake. She stared at him, then at her body. Her arms were muscular. She had once killed a Wyvern by herself. It was Periss, down to every line of her. She carried no weapon. But it was P—. The fake Periss backed up. Ilvriss stared at her.

That was her. Every inch of her. Every bit of her he remembered, the parts he had started to forget, realized in perfect detail. The door burst open. The bouncer and fake receptionist stopped as they saw Ilvriss.

The Gnoll was probably good. But Ilvriss was wearing his full equipment and his sword—both of them stopped. He was beginning to shout as more people gathered, more of the staff hurried forwards. But before he could—the voices shouting in his head—.

Periss, Xesci, stepped forwards and grabbed his arm. With the other hand she grabbed his ring-hand. Then—she head-butted him. His head rang as the Drake let go. Each time, I become someone either I or my client has met. It affects my personality too, so please excuse me. No, Xesci was direct, forthright, even aggressive. This was how Periss treated subordinates—or idiots. Also, not very sorry. You asked. I know the knitting Xesci was manipulating you—or doing it without realizing it even—but you did ask.

At first—I was good at mimicking other people. It helps you in the business to put on an act. Soon—it became what I was good at. Some are good at sex itself. Charming, or addictive. Like the [Actors] that Erin had made.

No—this was the class that had existed before them. His head spun. This was beyond Selphid levels of alteration. Xesci saw his expression and clarified. I can alter my height and become anyone within two feet of my original height. It used to be only an inch. Wall Lord. It may be hard for you to understand, but this is a class. A high-level class. No more. I thought it would help and look what happened. I met her once—she was a strange person.

To say that it was an incident was no joke. Brilm had emerged to find Ilvriss talking with Xesci, after having nearly gotten expelled for drawing a blade on one of the workers here.

I know who you might love…or find too real. As I said, I know my job. And less. Because the wound was healing, Ilvriss realized. It might have torn open now—but if he had seen her months ago, he might have well gone mad. Xesci hesitated, but when he looked up, he was clear-eyed.

I should have just said as much from the start. But the knitting-Drake…she never says anything completely straight. This was the moment he would ask, and she would be reluctant, very reluctant if he did.

But he just turned away. Her head sunk. Then her eyes flashed. Whoever this was had a temper. She had better get used to this body, then. She had mixed feelings about it, but this is why they came back. Again, again…. And this is all discreet. The [Courtesan], for all the confidence this body gave her, felt her tongue dry up in her mouth. Ilvriss spoke. Not…whatever you might be thinking. I mean that truthfully, without artifice. Never take her shape again.

The Drake stood. But definitely vigorous. Full of emotion, for better or worse. He had the door half open when he looked back at her. Not Ghosts , the malignant specters that were monsters summoned by dark magic.

He meant…spirits. The Wall Lord walked back to his tower unsteadily. Tasilt was engaged in setting records, apparently. Ilvriss walked by evening in the lower part of Salazsar. He really wanted a drink. And he knew why that would not happen. Dead people, then. Not zombies.

They followed him around. Pushing him, reminding him. If he looked behind him, would he see them clinging to his shoulders? Ilvriss looked—but all he saw was a group of Gnoll children racing about, young, in one of those little packs of children.

Beyond his , really. The ability to change your form without magic? If she—the real Periss—had really head-butted him, she might have cracked his forehead without a protective Skill or enchantment.

So Xesci was only borrowing form, perhaps native ability. Not Skills. Little potential in war, then. A [Strategist], maybe. But to dismiss her was a narrow-minded way of thinking.

Ilvriss considered how useful she could be as a [Spy]. She travelled from city to city, even went from the north to the south. This meeting had opened up possibilities, and helped him, despite what Brilm and Tasilt may have intended. Ilvriss walked on.

The lower city of Salazsar was far more crowded. But Salazsar, home to millions, one of the largest cities in the world, still had space. It was ever-expanding. Someday, it would absorb the entire mountain it was built out of. Thus—you could find yourself alone from time to time. And it seemed he was walking down a street devoid of people. Ilvriss narrowed his eyes. He was a [Lord], and he had been fending off the advances of the people in the brothel.

He felt the slight urge to walk off and not go down this street. Reflexively, he checked himself. Nothing to his rear—none of his rings or amulets was buzzing for hostile magic. The Drake put his claw near his sword—then slowly moved it away. No one expected a [Fireball] to the face. Well, a lone person hurrying down the street.

Had they seen Ilvriss? They were cloaked, and he saw a long tail. Ilvriss saw them glance around—then hurry around the corner. What had they been doing? Ilvriss looked past them and saw…. He came across a giant…painting on the side of one of the apartment-complexes in the lower residences.

The paint was drying even now. And it was, er…. Ilvriss stepped back. It was startlingly good. Accurate to life, even scaled up. Splendid coloration—a bit more vivid than reality, so it popped along the slightly dirty stonework.

The artist had also given it a faint grey background to canvas the Gnoll hanging onto the windowsill. Yes, a Gnoll—a [Miner] if ever Ilvriss saw one, in the traditional gear, his pickaxe holstered at his waist.

He was holding onto the windowsill of the apartment—the artist had incorporated the natural scenery. He had a desperate look on his face. Clearly, he was trying to climb up. But the problem in the painting, the motif if you will, the subtle message in the art…. They were uh, cartoonishly sneering down at the Gnoll. The problem, if Ilvriss would have critiqued this art in a gallery, was that this painting had painted the every-Gnoll, without specific detail on his fur.

But the two Drakes? He knew them. The entire painting stood out to Ilvriss. Bits of gold dropping as the two Drakes tried to kill the [Miner]—or at least make him drop off the windowsill. Excellent art. Provocative message.

The next day, Ilvriss awoke after purple-pilling himself into oblivion. He had a breakfast on time, asked Osthia how her training was going. The Rubirel Guard are especially impressive. And if the enemy decides to field an [Enchanter] of that strength, every artifact is in danger. Sullen, angry, and also annoyed. Toss in boredom to that—it was an amazing stew of emotion. Shriekblade gave her a look and Ilvriss recalled the issues with her before.

This had happened multiple times. If you are fit to work, accompany me for the day. But I will tell Captain Shieldscale to contact you if any monsters arise in the mines. She stomped after him, making no effort to resume her professional, if eerie, normal shadowing. As she was now, she was talkative, had a personality—but a foul one. Case in point, halfway to his appointment with Zelir, Ilvriss heard a small sound. He saw Shriekblade puffing away on a huge cigar.

Ilvriss dropped it. He eyed her—and the cigar—disapprovingly. She was lounging against one wall, watching them, incredibly bored, but alternating between puffing and watching people in the city below. Monsters and so on. Ilvriss lied. Zelir had never detected Shriekblade before. But the [Weapon Trainer] quickly dismissed her. They began to warm up, first sparring—then Ilvriss trying out the new sword style. The older Drake was approving. Ilvriss felt annoyed at the new style.

However, he knew he had to make his body learn to parry the new way. Ilvriss had fewer combat Skills—but he was a strong [Lord]. Even so, not one of the nine fast strikes hit Zelir. He knocked down seven blows perfectly—then the other more clumsily, but took himself out of range of the last one with a [Fast Backstep]. The [Weapon Trainer] smiled. He had [Parry Blade]—but a spin on the Skill. Time was you could only do four strikes.

You might get me one of these days! Too bad I—[Reaching Slash]! Zelir cursed and used his Skill to duck it. The two Drakes went back and forth, as Ilvriss began to warm to the new style.

It was only halfway through the serious spar as both used their Skills that his tunnel vision and hearing made him realize Shriekblade was making a sound. She flicked the butt of her cigar over the edge of the training grounds. Ilvriss eyed her, feeling a spark of real annoyance in his chest. He and Zelir had been going at it for about thirty minutes by now.

No body blows, no one coming from behind with a knife. The sword style, maybe. She pointed at Zelir. Ilvriss saw the [Weapon Trainer] bristle. He put down his practice sword and looked at Shriekblade. She shut her mouth and folded her arms. Zelir nodded to Ilvriss. Zelir pressed Ilvriss—hard. Fighting aggressively, testing Ilvriss, as if to prove Shriekblade wrong.

She rolled her eyes. She said nothing, but she was so pointedly dismissive that Ilvriss began pushing at Zelir, so his back was to Shriekblade. Even so—Drakes had tempers and Zelir was proud of his skill. When he tried to parry Ilvriss and got a score on the arm, Shriekblade might have snorted. The [Weapon Trainer] rounded on her. Zelir rounded on him. He was normally polite, but Ilvriss remembered his temper.

He snapped at the Wall Lord. This is swordsmanship , not a street fight! This Adventurer can show me she can back her talk up, or she can wait elsewhere. Better than both of you combined. How about it, Wall Lord? She broke his arm. It took her four minutes in the savage duel that unfolded. True to her promise, she used no Skills. And Zelir pressed her hard, at first. At first, Shriekblade just danced around Zelir, moving faster than even the [Weapon Trainer], who often did the same to Ilvriss.

She blocked, parrying his angry thrusts and strikes. Ilvriss watched, ready to jump in, uneasy. She let Zelir tire himself and show her his fighting style for a minute. Then she began raining down fast blows towards his head. She scored him twice, but light blows. He went in harder, and touched her on the shoulder. Just a touch—. That was when she lost her temper. She struck from above, then, as his sword was parrying and riposting towards her face, kicked him in the stomach.

And then Shriekblade hit him—one handed. Ilvriss stopped her, but it was too late. The [Healer] pronounced the injury as Zelir was lifted to a clinic. He was lying there. Possibly from the vicious blows that had broken said arm—possibly just from shame. Shriekblade was standing on the edge of the training grounds. She looked over her shoulder and then sullenly turned to face him as he stalked over. And you could have beaten him without breaking his arm. Let alone dueling him. You will not do so again, is that clear?

Ilvriss resisted the urge to say or do something—mainly because she was a Named Adventurer. But this?