polymath writer/illustrator — a fusionist in a world of specialists
mission. exploring grimdark narratives, haunted seas, and the architecture of the soul
intel. warhammer, nautical horror, dark SFF, dead dove
bsky
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saren is finished being modelled, textures over half-way done. he's one of the most complex models i've done. I think my favourite thing was making the aiguillettes and medals.
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Fifteen years trying to kill each other... what on earth are you talking about?
Which fifteen years, first of all? I suppose we can count the last fifteen years of Napoleon's life, which would be 1806-1821. Wellington was in the Copenhagen expedition in 1807, then was briefly in the peninsula in 1808, before his 1809-1814 stint there. However, during that period he was never on the same battlefield as Napoleon-- Wellington fought a variety of marshals, but the Emperor himself was off in central and eastern Europe. The only battle Wellington ever commanded against Napoleon was Waterloo itself, and even so, they never met face to face.
Further, even if you establish a time period, you can't really say that Wellington ever tried to kill Napoleon. In fact you can make a strong case for the exact opposite: he actively refused to kill him. Wellington had the opportunity to fire upon Napoleon at Waterloo, but he refused. Further, he flat out told the Allied monarchs that if they wished to execute Napoleon they would have to find someone other than him to be the executioner. Napoleon did leave a man who was acquitted of trying to assassinate Wellington 10,000 francs in his will, but as that's not actively hiring assassins, I don't think that counts either.
The drawing is quite nice, and I like the details on Wellington's sleeves, but you overstate things in your description.
Napoleon personally directed strategy against Wellington for years and called the entire Peninsular War his "Spanish Ulcer." Arguing they weren't trying to kill each other because they weren't physically standing in the same field is like arguing Churchill and Hitler never fought. And conflating Wellington's refusal to execute a defeated prisoner with proof of non-rivalry is a genuinely bizarre misread of military honour.
But mostly—it was a one-sentence joke caption on a drawing. "Two short kings" was the register. Three paragraphs of gotcha history was not the proportional response. I'll assume you're American.
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"Stand by, Hexen. I am... concluding a sensitive matter."
Heinrix panted, the lighter of his mismatched eyes fixed on Marazhai as he failed to stop a frown, a pleasured whimper staked in discomfort. He then arches with a silent, teeth-clenched wince. He tried again, focusing on the cold, hard authority he was supposed to embody. "This is Interrogator van Calox. Stand by, Hexen. I am... concluding a sensitive matter."
The vox crackled again, Hexen’s voice cutting through the static, tinny and utterly oblivious to the drama unfolding in the chamber. "Understood, Interrogator. But the matter is urgent. The cargo manifests from the Xylos transfer require your authorization cipher to be sealed. Without it, the records remain open, and Lord Aurastor was... explicit... about discretion."
Heinrix squeezed his eyes shut. Of course. A cipher. Something that required memory, precision. Marazhai seemed to sense the shift, the new layer of pressure, as he shifted his weight, a subtle, deliberate movement that made Heinrix’s legs tremble.
Some heretical, defiant, buried part of him wished to declare that he was… servicing a superiour asset.
"The cipher..." Heinrix gasped out-fingers on the panel- trying to focus, to pull the string of characters from his memory. He could feel Marazhai’s claw tracing the line of his spine, slow and deliberate. "...stand by."
"Did you say you are transmitting, Lordship?" Hexen's voice was laced with strain. "Vox is unstable on this channel. There is... interference."
"No," Heinrix gritted out, his forehead pressed hard against the cold plasteel. The 'interference' was the sound of his own ragged breathing, the low growl of pleasure from the Drukhari behind him. He needed to end this.
I’ve seriously thought about this! Setting corny jokes aside, it largely depends on what you’d answer to the question that follows the kiss:
In the past, Lazarus was a Librarian, and his knowledge spans an infinite array of topics, including the literary works of the Imperium. It can’t be said that he’s completely unaware of why people press their verbal interfaces against one another, but he might speculate on a few reasons for this — perhaps you want to see a puzzled Adeptus Mechanicus adept? Are you expressing affection and trust this way? …Or maybe you just tripped and accidentally landed your lips on his face? Or have you always dreamed of kissing an admech and couldn’t resist?
Well, if touching his cold, damp skin, streaked with oily smears, truly brings you some pleasure, Lazarus wouldn’t mind offering you a chance for such an interaction. In return, though, he’d ask you to volunteer for his biomantic experiments. He might not be the most exciting partner (a total log, really), but in those very experiments his psyker abilities let him play the nerve endings like a violin, achieving sensations — of both nature and intensity - that the subject couldn’t have even imagined.
still floored Owlcat Games featured the Deadstar Logbook on their gamedev resources page 😭 owlcat.games/learning
i'm in the narrative design section
genuinely honoured. there's incredible craft analysis on there. very grateful to be included. go take a look at the resources they've gathered!
since a lot of you found me through warhammer 40k content, you might like my character analyses on there. more to come!
Craft essays on narrative design, worldbuilding, and 'off-the-page' content from the grimdark nautical horror world of The Reply. Click to r
this week's craft essay is for everyone tired of being told they're morally suspect for liking complex characters. about diegetic writing, why compelling beats likeable, and why fiction isn't an instruction manual.
probably my spiciest take so far.
Why the most interesting characters are the ones (other people say) you shouldn't like. Learn why diegetic writing and morally complex prota
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Lord Captain Saren von Aurastor was a walking contradiction, a man of refined cruelty and calculated charm.
full profile below cut
He endeavours to be a spectacle of power, never seen without his overcoat, a vast, gilt-red and black garment worth its weight in gold. It flowed to his calves, a swirling set of heavy faulds that amplified his already formidable silhouette. Imposing as it was with gilt skull motif epaulettes and a unique, intricate aiguillette arrangement that hinted at a mind both artistic and ruthless.
His face, though refined, held a disturbing beauty. One eye, a cold, predatory silver, the other a piercing, ghostwight blue, scanned his surroundings with a wild, deranged intensity. A jagged scar marred his left brow and forehead, adding a brutal counterpoint to his otherwise elegant features with a chilling reminder of a near fatal warp jump that had left him with more than just a scar.
His voice, a deep, resonant timbre reminiscent of polished steel, held a subtle menace, a low growl that could both charm and intimidate.
His smile, when it came, was a carefully calibrated weapon, a flash of teeth that hinted at hidden depths and unsettling intentions.
He moved with a subtle, almost predatory grace, the bronze taps of his block heels clicking a theatrical rhythm that underscored his awareness of the effect he had on others.
He was a paradox, a man of refined tastes and brutal efficiency. He claimed to abhor emotional decision-making, favoring cold logic and calculated strategy. Beneath the veneer of ruthless pragmatism, a flicker of unexpected tenderness occasionally surfaced, a glimpse of a heart capable of loyalty or compassion, though never of gold.
His eccentricities were legion, a collection of quirks and habits that both fascinated and unnerved his retinue.
His generosity, when it manifested, was as unpredictable as his temperament, lavished upon those he deemed loyal, a reward for unwavering service.
---
my baby got his in game profile
ppl have been liking his playlist, here it is again
wrote a whole craft breakdown on Saren von Aurastor's design philosophy and it got long
the thesis: if Origen is the crushing pressure of the deep ocean, Saren is the storm screaming across its surface. he's motion as survival. a performance that literally cannot end because stillness means confronting the void where his foundation should be.
the post covers:
designing a character whose "control" is actually frantic terror with better vocabulary
that magnificent overcoat as literal armor against powerlessness
the ship built from his family's corpse (subtle, Saren. very subtle.)
why his possessiveness is so violent (spoiler: trauma he can't even remember)
creating dialogue that's pure theatrical spectacle until someone cracks the mask
he's a Rogue Trader with no childhood memories, commanding 7.5km of lethality, absolutely convinced his cruelty is pragmatism when really it's just a traumatized boy screaming into the void and calling it strategy
basically: what happens when you don't process trauma but weaponize it instead
if you want the full deep dive on building a beautiful disaster who's simultaneously apex predator and terrified child: [link]
he's fine. he's SO fine. definitely not having a catastrophic identity crisis at all times. that's just his face.
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