Itwaskozki

A drawing of an Abyss Watcher I made in class.

I would color it, but I suck at coloring. I would draw digitally but I suck at digital art. Also, I only started drawing people/humanoids like a few months ago and I still don’t really get how to draw clothes, but at least they aren’t stick figures anymore.

When Charles first joined the gang.

Everybody just annoyed of Sean's incessant rambling about Ireland.

Started drawing more realistic things. Specifically animals.

For all you Messmer writers/artists fighting with his Shakespearean speech: this guide is straightforward and has multiple parts if you click around. Here’s a small chart with terms of address, examples of word order/basic questions, and some verbs.

Here’s a simple explanation of “-eth” and “-est” verb endings.

Ranni and several other characters also speak this way or in a similar fashion. Something to note is that “you” was used by lower-ranking people to address those of a higher rank/status, and “thou/thee” by higher-ranking people to address those of a lower rank/status. Alternatively, nobles used “you” amongst themselves, which adds some flavor to dialogue.

A lot of Shakespearean dialogue is meant to showcase how performative and ridiculous the nobility or upper-classes were during his time (and still is nothing changed lmao). There are tons of Shakespearean dictionaries as well; a lot of words we use today meant something entirely different then, or had different contextual interpretations. It’s meant to sound flowery and has a particular cadence that I recommend listening to as well. Find a good reading on YouTube and really listen to how the words fit against each other. No, you don’t have to write in metered verse (sweats in iambic pentameter) or rhymed prose, but it helps develop dialogue that flows and feels more natural when you can imagine how it sounds as you write.

Here’s a glossary. Have fun with it, don’t let it roll you. Weak foe ahead.

I might have a favorite character, chat.

Drew my new profile picture on Procreate. Still can’t figure out digital art, but I’d say I did pretty good. Couldn’t make the colored version of the eyes look good, but this looks alright.

Yea. It’s great. Mhm.

Hark, Lord Impaler - Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any of characters or events from Elden Ring.

Author’s Notes: A little 800 words as a start. Just a little setup for the story that our main character will reminisce on quite often. Also, thanks @asianbutnotjapanese for being one of the few people interested!

Summary: Messmer saves a human child during an attack on a hornsent settlement.

Warnings: Violence, depictions of blood/wounds, depictions of war

Smoke swirled in the air like an evil veil, heavy and black, shrouding the town once bustling with everyday activity in a menacing darkness. The light illuminating the streets was not that of the setting sun, but the red glow of wild flames. The air was thick with the smell of burning; burning buildings, burning flesh. Charred bodies littered the ground, others were still dying. The wailing of women and children pierced through the clashing of steel and shouting of soldiers like the swords and spears ripping through bellies.

Messmer the Impaler watched this chaos ensue with no expression. The hornsent at his feet spasmed, attempting to curse his killer with its final breath, but all that came out was gurgling nonsense as blood bubbled from its mouth. The leader of the crusade pulled his wicked spear from the hornsent– its blood pooling at his feet– death throes now finished. 

Be it one man, be it a whole city; even the most horrific killing could become nothing more than a chore, given time.

The red serpents craned their heads around, observing the genocide– for this was no battle– on behalf of Messmer. Messmer saw through their eyes, as they were one with his body since birth, and he had no eyes of his own. Not anymore. Not since his mother gouged his only working eye and replaced it with her own seal. His fist gripped his spear tighter as his mind drifted to that memory. 

No, he should not feel anger, or dare he say hurt. That had been for the best. He was a danger to his mother and her Golden Order otherwise. He was a monster, and she had been right to seal that dark serpent away inside of him. Mother understood though, and would let him into her golden lands soon enough. Just as soon as he avenged her people.

A serpent hissed and Messmer blinked his way back to reality to see a child, wrists bound in rope, raise a dagger and plunge it into the back of her captor. The demigod raised his hand to kill her with his cursed fire when he realized she slew a hornsent, not one of his men. Not just a child, but a human child, and therefore someone he was obligated not to kill, perhaps even save.

The girl was rather scrawny, covered in grime and blood, and could be no older than four and ten. Perhaps the hornsent had taken her to be stuffed in a jar and melded as the savages did with so many.  Her eyes were wide with fear that was only amplified tenfold when she saw Sir Messmer. She trembled from terror and exhaustion but otherwise didn’t move, torn between awe and horror at the sight of the demigod until something finally pulled her attention away from him and had her try to run. She didn't make it far before she tripped over an object concealed with soot. The ash plastered to her skin as she wildly turned around to see a towering horned warrior of the hornsent slowly approach her, raising its great iron sword to cleave her in half, paying Messmer no mind, if it had seen him at all.

Messmer threw his spear at the warrior, killing it in a single shot. The spear skewered the hornsent with a splatter of blood and lodged itself firmly into the ground until the Impaler summoned it back to his hand. The body fell to the ground with a thud. He ambled to where the girl had fallen and let a serpent extend to allow him a better look. Her body lay limp and unconscious, her breathing rasped softly, the only indication of life in her yet. Blood– whether it was her own or another’s– had seeped into her clothes, dying the shawl around her shoulders a dark red, as if a gruesome mockery of Messmer’s own garment. Perhaps it was a sign from Marika. If so, it was a cruel one, but– he thought with a grimace– it was not outside of his mother’s nature to be cruel…far from it.

Her eyes fluttered open briefly and she groaned in pain. Messmer took a moment to locate one of his men, simultaneously noticing the battle was beginning to dwindle like the flames devouring the buildings. 

“Soldier,” he addressed the first of his men to come close, “Dost deliver this child unto one who may tend to her health.”

The soldier nodded in acknowledgment and came to carefully lift the girl in his arms and carry her off. Messmer watched as they faded out of view into the mist of cinders and ash. Once he had gotten to regrouping his troops and having it made sure that no hornsent remained alive, the girl was quickly forgotten. She did not cross his mind again until they were far from the smoldering ruins.

The Impaler looked at his most trusted knights, their armor gleaming, scarlet capes flowing behind them, untouched by most of the filth of battle. He thought again of the girl’s blood-soaked cloth and decided to thank his mother for the supposed sign.

Perhaps there was use to be made of that child yet.

we broke his ai and he wouldn’t die

What a stupid ending ...

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