mpatrycjaarthorizon

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

I finally managed adjust face I finally like for Emris-

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

[A moment of peace]

Messmer and Solvaran with daughter Aileen >w<

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

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More about Solvaran and Messmer!

[Cannon x oc / Elden Ring setting / Emotional - opening up slowly on other person]

I wrote this time how they are slowly getting used to the closeness and sincerity between eachother!

Enjoy!

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Evening, in the quiet wing of an old fortress. The light from the lamp flickers on the stone walls. Just the two of them. Messmer sits by the bed, without armor, without a top. His back, marked with streaks, burns, snake patterns breaking through the skin. They twitch, snakes moving under his skin, which hurts with every movement as he now try moves slowly, millimeter by millimeter.

Solvaran silently opens a small jar of cream. It smells of familiar ash, moss, and herbs. Cool and soothing like the morning breeze. She sits behind him and begins slowly, carefully spreading the ointment over the marks left by the fire and snakes where it hurt the most. Slowly, so as not to cause him more pain, she also uses her spells to help him feel relief, if only for a moment.

Messmer: I still feel like it's still... crawling under my skin - quietly, with a slight grimace as he clenches his teeth at the chronic pain caused by serpents- It doesn't hurt as much as it did then... but it never goes away... It always reminds me that it's a part of me...

Solvaran: I know - gently rubbing close to the snakes wrapped around his body, stopping when he hisses in pain but then continuing again when his body relaxes- But the skin remembers, and so does the body. Just like you...

Her hands are delicate but steady. She doesn't look away, she doesn't mind even when her fingers touch the deformed, almost snake-like parts of the body, which sometimes look like fresh wounds.

Messmer: My mother also had wounded skin. Not from fire or snakes... but from tears and scars of her past..

Solvaran: You never talked about her - gently add- Even though I saw her, I never had the opportunity to talk to her... She always disappeared quickly...

Messmer: Because she was a mystery. Even to me - in a low voice, with audible pain- Always hidden behind a curtain of incense, surrounded by servants. Not a mother, but a goddess. But once, just once... I went to her at night. I was crying because I had a nightmare. And she took me on her lap... and said that “those who dream of serpents give birth to death or a miracle” She never repeated it after that. As if it were a mistake...

Solvaran pauses for a moment. Then she puts her hand on his shoulder not as a healer, but as someone who listens.

Solvaran: Maybe she saw you more then than anyone else later...

Messmer: Or maybe she knew she couldn't do anything. Not against what was to come... When she had to abandon me...

Her hands move again, now lower, along his spine. Where the skin is thinner and the snake marks sharper. But Solvaran does not retreat once, she cares for him when others did not even have the right to be in his presence. When she could see the weakest part of him...

Solvaran: To me, you are more than a curse or a prince. You are a man who allows me to touch this skin... and not hide my own...

Messmer: And you are someone who did not run away when you saw what was underneath it- breathes deeply and slowly trying keep cool facade

And so they remain close, but silent. He with his eyes closed. She with her hand on his neck. Not like a warrior and a lord. But like people whose bodies say: “It's not over yet. I'm still here despite my wounds”

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Another day, evening. Again, after applying ointment to his aching body. The lamp is burning down, the cream has already been absorbed. All that remains is warmth and relief. Messmer slowly leans on her shoulders, not like a king, but like a man who can finally breathe. And she sits and does not move away. Solvaran moves her hands lower, to his hands. One - cold as steel. The other - constantly trembling. He joins them, letting go of the weight. When she whispers

Solvaran: You don't have to hold back. You won't burn me or I'll not leave, I'm here for you... as always...

Messmer: You're not afraid even when I'm afraid of myself... - in a low voice, a weak smile trying learn this closeness even if it felt sacred

He rests his forehead on her shoulder. His eyes are closed, his breathing slows. His hair falls on her shoulder like wave. She doesn't even move, nor do her wings, which were closed over her eyes.

Messmer: Do you remember when we were little? Back then, we didn't know what we were. Who we would become. There was only mud, sun, and your laughter, which could brighten the whole day.

Solvaran: And you said you would never become Lord - smile as she whispers when sigh with closed eyes

Messmer: Because I didn't want to. I just wanted... to find a place where no one looked through the curse. Where someone would see me... before revenge and titles came...

Silence, only the light of the lamp and her hand moving to his neck. She pulls him closer so that he leans against her, letting him rest and relax.

Solvaran: Here you are Messmer, not a flame or a shadow. And I never stopped seeing the boy in the mud who smiled at me despite his own pain, who showed me kindness... When even my own guardian in the temple couldn't show me that...

Messmer raises his head, her wings open to look at him, their foreheads touch. Their hands intertwine under his heart. Neither says anything more. When the fire goes out, they are no longer apart. They are together, for a moment, that evening neither dreams of fire. Only about arms, only about peace. Only about a place where no one looks through curses and titles. Their own safe place between them only, getting used to each other so close.

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The next morning. The training room. But something in their eyes has changed. Solvaran enters first. Her steps are light but uncertain, not out of fear, but out of a new kind of tension. She is not wearing a mask today. Messmer is already waiting at a long table with maps and weapons. But he's not looking at the parchments. He's looking at her. Longer than usual. Differently.

Messmer: You came... You wasn't supposed to take care of the young recruits, capitan? - quietly, almost asking

Solvaran: There's still time... - straightforward, without excuses- I couldn't not come. When someone gives you peace... you don't run away. You protect it...

She approaches him. Before she grabs her weapon, she stops right in front of him ready to to exercise together, when their exchanged blows were their words.

Solvaran: I treated you like a flame that was going to burn me. But last night... I learned to hold the fire in my hand. It didn't burn me, but gave me... comfort in understanding...

Messmer says nothing. But when they reach for their swords, their hands touch for a moment, not by accident. They stay there a second too long, looking at each other. From now on, they fight side by side... differently. Not because they have to. But because they want to. Not partners by force. But united by heart and finally by understanding. Not as soldier and lord, but as woman and man...

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The night after everything. Solvaran returns once more, thinking that he is already asleep, just to make sure if he sleeps. But Messmer sits alone by the window. His coat thrown carelessly over his shoulders, the skin on his shoulder burns again- when the serpent is awake. Even though his two serpents lie around his shoulder when rest.

Solvaran: You're awake...

Messmer: Because I know what comes when I close my eyes... - without turning around he add, tired biut awere what comes when he sleep, nightmares...

Solvaran sits down next to him. He doesn't say anything for a long time. Only after a longer moment does he gently touch her arm to see her face when wings were open only for him to see, those tired eyes that burn focused on him as if she were listening. When he wanting to tell her more about that pain...

Messmer: My mother... she wasn't like me. She was a spark that didn't choose fire. When they came for me... she didn't say a word. She just let me go... Left me in this land, without a word...

He clenches his fist. For the first time, Solvaran sees him not as a ruler before her, but as a child with emptiness in his heart, a heart that hurts.

Messmer: You know what hurts the most? - full of bitter- That for years... I believed she would come back. That she still remembers me and what I did for her. The whole crusade and bloodshed in her act of revenge on those who slaughtered her village to the last man. Those who hurt her, but she betrayed me and left me as if I meant nothing... I love her more than anything in the world, but I guess as a cursed son, I'm not worthy of her attention... but I can't abandon her goal or turn my back on her...

Solvaran doesn't respond with words. She simply leans over and rests his head on her shoulder. It is he who trembles, not her. That night there were no tears, only presence and listening. But from then on, when he said “my mother,” it no longer sounded like a curse. Rather, it was something that, when finally introduced, could bring relief as he opened up more and more with each talk to her.

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Another evening, the time when they usually meet. The fire in the fireplace casts a soft light. Messmer's private room is no longer so cold. There is twilight all around, the smell of herbs and ash. Just the two of them, talking as always when no one else can see them. Messmer is still sitting by the window, but now he is leaning forward. Solvaran is kneeling beside him, without her armor. Gently, almost ritually, she applies ointment to his shoulder. Between her fingers: a slight tremor. The serpent under his skin breathes sleepily but alertly, don't leave just stay and waiting.

Messmer: I still look for her sometimes. In the crowd - quietly, tired, his eyes half closed- In my dreams. And then I remember that she never said “goodbye”...

Solvaran does not respond immediately. Her movements do not interrupt the rhythm. Her touch has the patience of a healer and a closeness she has not had with anyone in years. For the first time, she has the courage to say something about herself.

Solvaran: You know... My mother never touched me. Not even when I cried. She always watched and waited, afraid to even touch me... That I would burn her or others. She told me to close my wings so that my eyes would not burn her or her soul, only then would she look at me, but very briefly... She was always there, but she never gave me a hug or support, she preferred to send me to the temple -as if it were forbidden or I was just pure fire and not her child...

Messmer looks up, their eyes meet. Not with regret and sorrow, but like mirrors in which they both see themselves as children. The same pain or understanding of how distant their parents were from them, but they couldn't hate them for it, even though it hurt still.

Messmer: And yet, here we are. Quite alive, trying make them proud or make them look at us...

Solvaran: Sometimes more than we should be... - sad half-smile when look down a bit

He smiles slightly. And then, without words, he pulls her toward him with his arm. The gesture is uncertain, as if he doesn't know if he can. But she doesn't protest and again, they allow themselves this closeness, other than as knight and lord. And so they remain, without armor, without masks, without the need to say more. For the first time in a long time, they both fall asleep not with a sword in their hands, but with someone's presence that does not disappear when they close their eyes, but lasts...

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After the battle, or perhaps after another separation. Maybe after another death from which they miraculously returned. Messmer stands by the fire, his hand clenched around the lance. His face is cold again, military, almost inhuman. But something in his posture trembles, as if a shadow from the past were knocking inside. Behind him stands Solvaran. The silence between them is no longer a burden. It is not the silence that separates, but the silence that reminds.

Solvaran: You still see her sometimes, don't you?

Messmer: No... Now I see you - he turns slowly. His eyes are dark in the glow of the fire, but sincere - But... you know what I remember best? Your touch back then. And that... you smelled of shadow herbs and fire.

Solvaran smiles sadly, tenderly. She approaches him slowly

Solvaran: I remember that you didn't sleep until I touched your hand. And that the serpent beneath your skin fell silent. For the first time... it didn't fight you...

Messmer bows his head. Their fingers meet, not violently, not passionately. They just... are - warm, real...

Messmer: That night... was real. That's when I believed I could be human...

Solvaran: And I believed that I was not just a weapon...

Since that night, when pain, death, or distance separates them, they always return to that gesture. The touch of a hand. Slow, simple. Like a sign of grace that no gods could give them, but which they found themselves.

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Ruins of an old temple - night. Solvaran - wounded. Messmer beside her, like the shadow of a flame that refuses to die out. Rain seeps through the roof, dampening the burning embers. The stones are warm from the magma of her attacks, but her body is cold now. She trembles in a petrified form. A blade is stuck deep in her side. Golden blood and dust are mixed together. Her breathing is ragged. Messmer kneels beside her - his hand instinctively searches for the source of the pain, but it is not the wound that frightens him. It is... the fading flame in her eyes.

Messmer: No... Not like this. Not now... Not again...

His fingers, covered in blood, tremble slightly. He takes off his glove. He touches her hand, just like he did then. Slowly... Quietly... As if performing a miracle he himself does not understand.

Solvaran: Messmer...?

Messmer: Do you remember that touch? That night... when the fire didn't burn you?

Her lips move without sound. But he can see it. He feels the warmth returning. As if her body is remembering again: I am not alone. Messmer presses her hand to his chest. His voice trembles, but his eyes are steady, ready to fight

Messmer: I won't let you fade away. I've been through hell. I've killed rulers and beings... Not to lose you to just a shadow and a wound...

A ray of heat emanates from his chest, not golden grace, but the red of an ashen flame. He who knows loss and anger. But also: protection. He sends her a part of himself. Not power, not strength- intention. The will for her to live.

Solvaran: You... always know how to stop me...

Messmer: Because you taught me how to live- with a bitter-sweet smile and in pain with eyes

The wound stops bleeding. Her hand gently clenches his. Not yet completely saved, but no longer alone. Never alone again.

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Thank you for taking the time to read this 💜 I hope y'all enjoyed it!

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

I did for Solvaran's Fire Capitan Armour set, who finally fits her time as Fire Knight Captain in Messmer's army

(Official one vs combat one)

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

More oc lore, this time about my Tarnished Emris and his wicked companion Achyln!

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Before you start:

Tw:/ Blood and violence!

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ABOUT THEM

Achlys and Emris' Journey (Relationship - companion)

Archetype: Blood and Shadow / Madness and Silence

It wasn't supposed to be companionship.

Emris never sought companionship - especially not the kind that laughs when blood drips from the sky, and recites books of forbidden spells as if they were love poetry. And yet... Achlys did not leave. And Emris - surprisingly - never told her to disappear

Achyls - a gleam in the eyes of a madman, born of Radagon and Rennali, but tainted with Mohg blood.

She speaks too loudly in sacred places.

She laughs when something is on fire.

Sometimes, instead of answering a question, she stares at Emris with a smile and asks:

> "What if it's all just a shadow dream you're in? Or would you kill me in it, Emris?"

Emris - extinguished, silent, possessed by the unlived past as he abides as a shadow Eclipse cult he was part, now lone soul as Tarnished even if he doesn't wanted that

He knows the patience of stone and the pain of steel.

When Achlys oversteps his bounds, he remains silent for a long time. But if she really makes him angry...

> "Radagon's spawn"

That's what he calls her, hard, with ice in his voice.

And only then does she fall silent for a while.

But despite everything, they are like:

- When he sleeps, Achlys always positions herself with her back to him - but never too far away.

- When someone casts a blood spell in his direction, Achlys smiles and casts his own version - with ice and a blade.When she asks:

"Will you kill me if I totally lost my mind?"

He replies: "If. Not when."

Relationship in nutshell:

- Stinging

- Full of ambiguous allusions and words thrown around like blades.

- But also... based on a strange respect.

Because each of them sees something in the other that the other can't stand. Emris sees in her what's left of the frozen goddess. Reminding him all time about burdens and misery of life he wants to finally be free from. Achlys sees in him someone who has not yet been extinguished - and that is what fascinates her. Even more how death follows him

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Story time

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Location: the ruins of the church in Altus Plateau, night, the campfire is barely smoldering. Ashes in the air in the background, and the sky heavy with red moon.

Emris sits leaning against the wall, cleaning his scythe blade. Achlys approaches silently, sits down opposite. Shamelessly looking up at him. The silence between them had already lasted for some time before the woman endured the silence

Achlys: *with a wince* Why didn't you kill me then? In Liurnii. You had the opportunity. I didn't even defend myself. It would have been so easy!

Emris: Because at that time you looked like someone who don't want to live a long time ago... *ignoring her tone without lifting his gaze to her as he continues to hold his weapon without emotion*

Achlys: sharply. And poetically- *she started laughing at his words when she thought it was funny. As he pity on her* As all in your style, Emris *she leans over a little to get a better look at his face with her attentive eyes full of madness* But it's not true! I am alive, I hurt, I feel. Sometimes all too much... *sighs rocking from side to side as she thought over these words*

Silence, the wind carried sparks when Emris was silent, not seeming as if he was in a hurry to respond. When the woman was clearly in her thoughts when she held her finger to her lips and her eyes to the sky when she swayed. As if it would soothe her but had no effect.

Achlys: I know you hate me. For the blood, for what I laugh when I shouldn't! *her voice lowered as she whispered these words* For reminding you of everything you don't want to remember.... What took away your peace and life.... My wonderful father! *she laughed as her words were full of bitterness as she began to scratch her hands hurting herself more. Her skin could never rest from this*

Emris: *finally looks at her. Voice cold apathic but tired - like he saw in her mother pain or madness and father fire in eyes ready anything without hesitation* I don't hate you, Achlys.... But when I look into your eyes... I see Radagon. And something worse. Something that wants to laugh when the world is on fire and everything with it. When nothing else matters to you...

Achlys: *gently almost sadly she added* Maybe that's why I'm not leaving you. Because you still want to save this world. And I... I want to know why *she moved closer looking at his empty black pitch eyes*

Long moment. Emris returns his gaze to the blade, but doesn't answer her. He ignores each of her taunts as if he sees that she is waiting for it.

Achlys: You're still on fire, you know? Just no longer afraid that someone will put you out *stands up, stepping away from the fire as she looked at the sky making a turn as her eyes watch the red sky that reminded her of the wonderful blood*

She leaves him alone. Emris sits still, and in his eyes the bonfire reflects the steel of the scythe like an echo of the old light that only he could see

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Location: the underground catacombs under Lyndell - blood has soaked into the walls, and light is beaming from the mistaken spells. Both tired after the battle. Achlys sat heavily beside the dead calf of one of the slain clerics, which she is still tormenting even if is dead long ago - over in her hands looking at it with a smile as if she had seen a bliss, being covered in blood

Achlys: *she mutters under her breath in thought* Did you know that they knew me here? Even before... I broke down *smiles crookedly, looking at the blood stains on her hands and her body. As if it was nourishing for her* My blood was clean. My spells - approved. And then all it took was one book. One whispering voice and the person who deceived me with sweet words... *she stabbed corpse* They lead an innocent girl astray!

Emris: It's not the words who broke you *leaning against the wall, he looks down at her. When he sounded cold as always. Without a shred of comfort from him* It was you who answered him, childish naivety...

Achlys: *pauses with laughter* Always so nice? At least consistently, I like your directness! *her voice becomes more biting with a wide grin when her gaze fixed on his* Come on! Say it! I know you want it! Your favorite words! I'm already waiting! *twitches as if it doesn't apply to her* 'Radagon's spawn' - I almost feel uncomfortable without them! *she shivers as if from the cold comically pretending to care*

Emris takes a long look, but doesn't say it. Even though he can feel the irritation growing in him from the emptiness in his chest. She only crinkles her eyebrows, then rolls her eyes as she groans grumpily

Achlys: No? are you silent? Tired all sudden? Cat eat your tongue? did you die inside all over again? Is this a new punishment?

Emris: Achlys stop....

She froze in shock at the sound of her name from his lips, not the insulting patch he attached to her to upset her. Emris continues sternly but specifically

Emris: ....this will suffice.... I don't need a curse word to say your name....

Achlys: This... the first time...

Emris: *turns away from her, walking on* Maybe the last. But it's enough for you to remember it. Maybe it will teach you something...

Achlys stays still for a moment, as if something has cupped her somewhere she hasn't felt or allowed herself to feel in a long time. Then she smiles quietly - not the mad one, but a quiet, barely visible one. She moves behind him without a word

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Location: an underground Mohg shrine, a place reeking of blood and broken will. Emris kneels in the middle of the ritual circle, exhausted after a battle with blood-bearing servants. Achlys holds a spell in her hands - trembling. Behind her: Mohg in his own spiritual form, whispers to her.... The voice in her head echoes, quietly and at the same time everywhere

Mohg: Do it, child. He does not know you, he will never know you.... *he whispers the sweet words, the same words she heard before her fall. She felt something paralyze her and choke her by the throat. Why is she fighting? Why does she care?* Only we are your family. Speak his name... and burn him in sacrifice, complete what others could not. It will be a blessing for him-

The spell pulses, achlys looks at Emris with fear in her eyes for the first time, not with derision but with visible struggle. As his knee bends at this time, he barely holds his weapon. One move would have been enough when he didn't fight and more like surrendered

Achlys: *whispers* It's just a word... just one word... why am I hesitating... *strokes her hand to her chest as if to drown out the heartbeat that is aching* Radagon's spawn.... is all I am... Blood, error, fallen heritage...

Mohg: *sharp* Say his name. Destroy it AND get yours back! You wanted it so much, remember?

Emris looks at her. He doesn't beg, he doesn't accuse, he just looks - calmly, but for the first time with sadness. Something in his eyes that she didn't know: acceptance? Forgiveness? Perhaps trust? Like he don't lost trust in her... Or maybe it's just her mind playing tricks on her, and he's just tired or he pity her again...

Achlys: *clenches hand, voice trembling* His name... *silent for a long time and then quiet. As if her voice is stuck in her throat* ...is Emris

The spell in her hand goes out. Blood does not flow from her wounds. Mohg screams, his voice blurring into the void. When he failed to deceive her again. Achlys is panting heavily, as if she threw the stone she carried for years. One that had been weighing her down all her life.

Emris: *unclear* Why? You could have let me die, and yourself gain the part you wanted so much...

Achlys: *without a smile, sternly* Because if I utter it with anger... you will disappear. And I... don't want to stay alone...

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Link to story:

https://toyhou.se/~literature/308138.achlys-and-ermis-relationship-story-journey

Emris TH:

Achlys TH:

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That all, thank you so much 💜

For the time you took to read this! I hope you enjoy it! This is the first time I'm publishing what I'm writing and let others take look at it not just my art, so please be understanding and patience especially since I'm still learning how to write (as dyslexic) as well as the english language! Thank you again, have nice day/night ^w^

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

Working on my Tarnished oc. So far I'm managed gather in-game shots at one reference. Profile:

[INFO]

Name: Emris aka. Eclipse-Bound Martyr (he/them)

Age: Adult, seems 35 (physically)

Status: Undead (Due to, interrupted ritual)

[something similar to Ranni The Witch State. Emiris consider it a "twin phenomenon" - another version of what he might have become]

Tarnished (Now) / Eclipse cult (former) / Former Confessor of Castle Sol

[Lore]

Emris was a Confessor and victim of a forbidden ritual at Castle Sol, at a time when death was sealed by Marika. Followers of Eclipse believe that a solar eclipse - the point between light and shadow - can bring true death even to demigods.

Emris was supposed to die during the ritual so that his soul would be "extinguished" - was to become the key to opening the Gate of Death.

But the eclipse did not last long enough.

Emris died, but not completely - he hovered between two worlds. The body disappeared. The cult collapsed. And centuries of silence followed.

Now, as another eclipse appears, Emris returns - not from Grace, but from the dark remnant of a ritual that was not completed. With time start noticing shard of Grace who lead his way through lands

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

Meet my Eldenring oc!

Known as: Solvaran - Daughter of the Bound Flame

[Child born of the Great fire in Erdflame, abandoned as child at the gate of the shadow lands - with eyes covered by wings, so that no one can see the light that wraith soul]

And here is her DnD variation!

Solvaran / Sorcerdin

#DungeonAndDragons #originalcharacter #ocart

- Eyes always covered by their wings

- Comes from blacksmith - artificer family (sorcerer bloodline) who for generations had created weapons infused with pure light and magic

More about her, you'll find on my toyhouse:

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

Artfight 2025

My first attack!

My second attack!

My third attack!

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

I joined artfight this year too, here's my card 💜

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

I finally finished my little Messmer animation, only took me 6 months of on/off, trial/error and actual animating/clean uping work. It’s was a lot of work, but it’s cool to have an idea of something you’d like to do and then actually do it. You’l realise your ideas might not be as easy to create as you thought, and it sets your expectations for future endeavours a bit better.

I had in mind of do an Ansbach next, and even though he doesn’t have a second phase or anything of the sort, given how long Messmer took me to do, I think I will just not do it. Malenia would be awesome too, and I had a plan to do Miquella and Consort Radhan but there just isn’t enough hours in the day, of even years in my life, to make animations like these when I have a full time job and life stuff to do. 

This was all done on Procreate, and I originally had absolutely no idea how I would animate the transition from 1st phase to second, how I was going to make the helmet dissipate and the snake appear, but got there in the end, and was good to use my own brains to do the problem solving instead of some lame AI nonsense program. 

Anyway, today’s been a year since Shadow of the Erdtree released, thanks for reading and bye-bye

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

[Memory of childhood]

Times when life could still have a moment of joy for young Solvaran and Messmer

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

[Sketch] Solvaran and Messmer moment

S: "What happened? Please tell me you alive... I couldn't bear to lose you... Please..."

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

[DnD AU]

Name: Solvaran

Race: Aasimar

Class: Paladin: Oath of Vengeance

Multiclass: Sorcerer (Sorcerdin)

Background: Faceless

[Personality Traits] I can stare down a hell hound without flinching

[Flaws] I overexert myself, sometimes needing to recuperate for a day or more

[Ideals] Security. Doing what must be done can't bring the innocent to harm. (Lawful)

[Bonds] I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves

Weapon: Great Hammer

Affiliation: Church of Sliver Flame - Thrane / Flamekeep (from Eberron)

Origin: Blacksmith (sorcerer bloodline) - artificer family of magical weapons

DnD AU Moodborad:

=======

[Elden Ring AU]

[Elden Ring AU: Daughter of the Bound Flame].

Known only as: Solvaran - Daughter of the Bound Flame

Descendant of Great Fire, a Forgotten Kin of the Flame

Child born of the Great fire in Erdflame, abandoned as child at the gate of the shadow lands - with eyes covered by wings, so that no one can see the light that wraith soul.

Confessor / Fire Sorcery + Greathammer

Her Childhood friend is Messmer the Impaler

[Lore]

"When the Great Flame burned, part of its wrath was not extinguished, but sent into the body of an infant. A body too heavy for the world and a soul too bright for anyone to look upon without destruction"

Solvara was born from the Great Fire of Erdflame, part of which remained after the collapse of the Flaming Throne. Some of the old orders consider her an omen of the end - others, the forgotten daughter of warped divine beings.

As a child, she was banished to the shadow lands, rejection and shackled. Only one child was not afraid to touch her and stay in presence was - Messmer. And she always chased after him like a shadow. They were together... until they stopped being children.

The "adoptive" family that hid her - local smiths - who was betrayed and burned alive by a cult that coveted her fire.

Since then... Solvara is not looking for salvation.

Only debt.

A debt she can only repay with blood, ash and wraith that finally awake

[Quotes]

"I don't pray to the fire. I listen to it."

"If my eyes see you - it means you are already burning."

"I was a child. I was a sister. I was nothing. Now I am all that is left."

[Her Design Keys]

- More Weeping Angel vibe

- Her wings constantly smouldering

- Her figure is ashy

- Her hair will turn to fire when she uses her powers

Elden Ring AU Moodborad:

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

[Sinner Sona] Meet new sinner - Evander!

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# Sinner's Profile ▼ Evander

▪ Name: Evander Dawnhall

▪ Gender: Non-binary (She\Them)

▪ Age: [Unknown] Adult

▪ Height: 172 cm

▪ Libram: Famine / Immortal (awakening in one of the later events)

▪ Tendency: Arcane

▪ Ability: Hellfire

▪ Classification: MBCC-S-088

▪ Case: Connections with the underground, Never ending fire in The Rust Case

♦️ Where Rage Drowns

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Quote:

> "I am not a violent dog, I don't even know why I bite..."

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[Ability Summary]

Their power allows them to take **Devil Forms** that a Sinner is able to imagine, this works deeply on how they perceive themselves and how they feel about themselves.

The second of their abilities is hand mutation which allows them to change the shape of their own arms either into a scythe or anything else.

Their state of anger determines how much their body heats up and they are able to produce hellfire themselves.

Further abilities are yet to be discovered, it's heavily dependent on the subject's mental state or degradation.

Before the power boost, it was discovered that their body temperature drops below 35 degrees and they become cold as ice to cool their bodies from constant overheating

[Awakening Signs]

The facility reports that the first time their powers awoke was during a panic attack they experienced as children. Their body at the contamination took on a defensive form to protect themselves from the severe trauma they experienced as a young child

They mentioned that at that time they lost their memory, don't remember the exact time when it happened

[Corruption Status]

Their M-volume appears to be at an all-time high. The corruption has their body shows on their hands and the reddish-black scales on their body or red pupil.

The subject is characterized by significant mental corruption, having been highly unstable. By which they can not sleep before days, lose appetite and stop eating for a long time, frequent depressive states along with self-destructive tendencies in their time of solitude. The subject then seems as if they're avoiding others and often says they then feel "cut off" which means in terms - frequent dissociation of the subject as they cuts off themselves emotionally everything around them

[Criminal Record]

The object turned out to be linked to large arson areas in The Rust where uncontrolled flames appeared there, despite efforts, could not be extinguished due to which the contamination spread further. Upon deeper investigation, it was discovered that the source was an enraged Sinner in the form of *Devil* from whom the fire was glowing. At first they were mistaken for Corruptor, but upon further investigation they were proven otherwise. To capture the object, the Chief was summoned, who managed to calm Sinner down. The strange thing was that the fire had no effect on the Chief as discovered, although others often ended up with 3rd degree burns and above.

Toward the end, when the beast calmed down it approached the chiefs calmly giving them a touch on their heads. At this time, behind the Chief's surprise, the beast took human form and lost consciousness in the Chief's arms. When this happened all the fire was completely extinguished. After capture, Sinner was handed over to the MBCC. It is also still suspected that Sinner had connections to the Underground

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[Half-form]

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General Moodborad

Moodborad for full (Devil) form

Moodborad for Corpus Form

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[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

Some information about my MBCC Chief!

Name: Neveah Hallwell

Gender: Non-binary

Pronounce: they/them n she/her

Age: N/A

DOB: April 8

Height: 168 cm (172 cm w heels)

More: personality disorder, insomnia, autism/adhd

- walking unstable experiment of Paradeisos [PROJECT: Immortal]

- Immortal Libram / Umbra Tendency Sinner. Called as Silver Star or even False Siren

- Victim of Illusory Moon / The person (soldier/scholar) originally hailed from Paradeisos who "dead" body was re-used to experiments

[Before and After - memory recover ]

[Paradeisos ARC before becoming Chief]

[False Siren - DisSea Form]

Immortal Nev - their sinner ARC after lose control over themselves and lost Chief title

[Trivia]

-when uses shackles -their eyes change color; the sclera becomes black, the iris becomes magenta/violet and their figure can turns partially into a shadow

-dont understand jokes ( deadly serious/always tired™)

-keeps in thier office hamster: called Nibbles (who is actually sinner)

-their personalities fluctuate between two (Nev and Neah)

-surprisingly good at handling weapons (she can desing their own and even bullets)

-master at infiltration and stealth when a character takes the form of a shadow (her steps is almost unable to hear)

-on neck and wrists has scars resembling shackles

-on arms have tattoos

-perfectionis

-they always wear gloves

-like make origami

-they voice is monotonous

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

Messmer the Impaler

[mpatrycjaarthorizon]

Yeahhh, they are certainly not planning anything 7w7 nyhehehehehe

I love those two AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Spicing things up

These two surely don't plan anything silly to pull off~ (The smug bastard belongs to amazing @mpatrycjaarthorizon)