#feevax

{    If in before the last moments she managed       to squeeze in a moments hesitation it would       be by the grace of Quella, her God: and she       would be terrified by the depth of the ocean        of resentment that was deep inside of her        when considering her status. {     She gazed up in effective terror at the         beast. What could she do against a thing        like that. Feeva was not much of a fighter:         she had always deplored the use of violence,        she only resorted to it when those in need        required her to raise a hand—- She did not        have a world master to protect but herself        here. No one was being threatened but herself.         {      Manus.         She stared up at the creature and she saw        only her fear reflected in its eyes, and her        death at the tips of it’s arched crown.

  YOUR GODS would not help you. Your Gods have     abandoned  you. Your Gods are dead, defeated,     throttled by His darkness. There is no one to     answer your prayers; no one to grant you     strength; such you have to find within your     bosom. In Their likeness, you have to steel     yourself; in His presence, like an old,     discarded sword, you are melted down.     To be smelted anew, to be baptized in a mire...

    IMMOLATE orbs pin the Abbess, a sneer upon     His distorted visage. Weakness; fear and     loathing directed at His person. A mirror     placed before oneself; the individual loathing     their very humanity, for MANUS,     aeon-old and mutated, is but HUMAN.

 ⌠ A human more powerful than the Gods and     Their divinity. A human who did snuff     out Their light. He takes pride in His deeds.     Civilizations wiped out at a flick of     His fingertips; deities and half-deities and     apostate humans; vertebrae bent     and shattered; spirits befouled; temples     reduced to rubble, their priests and     priestesses gone  M A D. ⌡

(( A plot I’d love to do: I’ve gotten to do a lot of fun stuff with Laurentius—and he’s mainly been all over Lordran—but man, I’d love to throw him at some of the locations in Drangleic. I’ve got an image of him staring down the Executioner Chariot in my head that just won’t go away.

Good thing he gets a guided tour of Shulva with his new friend the Abbess, huh?

Something I’m confident about in my writing: I’m really proud of my dialogue for Laurentius, and how he’s grown under my care. Recently I was worried that he was boring people—but the man has dimensions, and different characters bring out different responses in him, and I’m proud of the fact that I’ve made that spectrum nuanced and believable. Or at least, I’ve tried.

Three of my favorite blogs I follow: Oh, man. There’s so many great ones out there—there’s a metric ton of great content coming out of all these OCs and canon characters.  

Three favorites, though…?

Hrm. Canon character wise

calamitieljane (typically ofmirrah) is one of the best writers I’ve ever seen, hands down. The mun has a talent for description, wit, and dialogue that could be literally published. 

aurea-dracos-interficientis was one of the people whose writing inspired me to try my hand at Dark Souls RP, and remains a sort-of hero of mine; his dedication to his character and fervent appreciation of the lore is something I try to mimic in my writing.

thesacredqueenzelda is a lovely mun and her Zelda’s the best I’ve seen on tumblr. She’s also one of the first people I met on here.

Also of note: confess-thy-sins, pardon-the-embraced, man-scorpiontark, modest-griggs, and jsterthomas.

As for OCs:

theblackwarden runs an excellent OC blog. Absolutely anything by iwella is golden, including her other blogs. flames-of-the-darkwraith's character is brilliantly conceived and written, and undeadlosers writes some of the best combat this side of town. derxngedcat is another excellent writer with a brilliantly concieved tokyo ghoul OC that made me want to watch the show/read the manga. sweet-temperedsludge is another fantastic blog, with imagery and writing that just blows my mind every time I read it (also that thread with vengarl-of-forossa is just too damn cute. darksunofjugo took a non-speaking ENEMY out of Dark Souls 2 and made them a nuanced, interesting character, so she’s on the list, too.

There’s also this lovely new Feeva roleplayer, feevax, dunno if you’ve met them, but they have a stunning theme, an excellent character concept and beautiful writing.

{    Her eyes were dim and reflected the light       of the torch in her hand. Brown eyes met       blue, the temperature of the room seemed       the become tense, and again Feeva was        left feeling cheap to know that no        matter how much she had to say, she       couldn’t say it. {     She could only stare in unceremonious        foreboding at the ice cold person before         her.

    She hadn't really expected to run into anyone who didn't appear to be hostile down here. Though, she suspected, it was more or less irrelevant. 

    Cutting eyes at the woman who stood before her with such an embedding expression, Mahsa frowned. They stood facing off against each other, and the Princess-- or, former Princess-- for one had had enough of this farce. She cleared her throat and her neutral brows raised ever so slightly in propriety. 

He was initially unaware of her presence; the pyromancer’s time in Shulva so far had not been pleasant and he was distracted with thoughts of how to proceed.

He had no idea who in their right mind would build a city beneath the arching canopy of the heavy earth, but here it was, among craggy spires and descending spikes of weathered stone: a meager empire of rising pillars and cavernous temples. 

While the place was perhaps easy on the eyes from a certain angle, its inhabitants most certainly ruined any sightseeing that might have been done—ghostly knights and heavily armored hollows had stymied every effort Laurentius had made to venture deeper into the city. Oh, he’d set plenty of them on fire; more than one bastard had found himself welded to his own defenses while charging the pyromancer, and those that made it through were subject to his skill with his axe.

But there were so bloody many of them.

Thus it was the frustrated pyromancer had settled in front of a bonfire, trying to compose himself before having another go at it. He toyed, idly, with a flame; it leapt back and forth between his hands before halting mid arc, floating a few inches in front of his face.

Jarrod was huddled against a large rock. Too weak to move and coughing violently. While he was grateful for the freedom that the undead who freed him brought, he wondered if the side effects were worth it at all. He could hardly go an hour without coughing at least once, and could not go a week without feeling nauseous.