#acrowamongsparrows

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 1 - Hypnotic/Star

Hammer blow after hammer blow resounded throughout the smithy ringing in the new work day as the cock coaxed the sun from it's sleep. Night had yet to fully depart as the sky was quickly winking out the tapestry of stars from it's blanket of lightening purple. Yet even as the night had come to a close the forge had already been brought back to life despite what slow burning embers had been left to keep it from cooling, it's raging flames billowing and burning to heat the crucible. The acrid stench of coal and wood burning would mix with the ozone of melting iron followed by the heavy pounding of the blacksmith's weapon of choice for shaping his works. Was it swords for a king? A helmet for the local knight? Or was it just one of the many horseshoes for a cart horse to make it to market?

In the hamlet of Markhor, one could be so lucky as to even own a horse and that was how Eld liked it.

Eld of Kovir or as he was known these days Candell, was not one to be considered a powerful looking man. Most smiths looked barrel chested, bald, and with arms like tree trunks to match the shoulders that bore the metals of their trade. Candell was not of the usual type. Surely he had the strength in his shoulders and back, but despite his heavy work over the last 11 years in the hamlet he appeared to only have gotten leaner and more wiry. Tight of shoulder and hard of back, the man worked like the devil for his craft despite it's mundane purpose of shoeing beats, repairing tools, and occasionally the odd or end needed by one of the villagers. His hands though were another story.

Powerful, thick, and uncannily dexterous for a man who swung a hammer for most of the day and played in fire. Strong enough to bend metal with a natural way speed and skill in near always striking true as he bent iron as necessary. Bent was a lame way to describe it, Candell guided the metal to it's true forms. A horse shoe, A scythe blade. Once there had been call for a new gate that by the end looked fit for a manor more than a field guard. Markhor was lucky to have him as much as he would beg to differ.

He was lucky to have it.

There had been rumors of trouble following the middle aged blacksmith despite the mediocre life he appeared to lead. But people noticed. As simple as they lived, they were not stupid. The supposed higher echelon of folk or better as they liked to think of themselves always perceived those who lived small as dumb or backwards. Really they should remember them as practical, hardy, and stubborn. Who else would be brave enough to live int he frontier and raise a family or crop. One could easily find as much fortune among the social hierarchy as they could in lining their pockets with flax, tubers, or coal. Someone could start over in the northlands near the Targo.

Someone could disappear.

Disappear was what Eld of Kovir had planned for and had nearly succeeded in. But things never always went as planned or wanted. Trouble seemed to always follow those that want to be left alone and then they had to redouble their efforts to remain in plain sight. A blind eye and slumped shoulders could be as much a shield as it could be a mark of shame.

A heavy sigh would issue forth as the a finale of to the hypnotic blows rebounded against the walls of the humble workplace. Hammer tossed aside with a clank to the ground as Candell gingerly took a step back before collapsing down onto the stool he kept near the anvil. Matching breaths to his sigh would follow as he sat giving his body the well deserved rest it needed after the series of blows, his hands resting on his knees before reaching over to massage his aching leg. It wasn't a new pain but it was a constant that he'd lived with forever and half. He hated it as much as it reminded him of his mortality and the hubris of remembering he was human. Sort of.

The yellow pupils were a dead give away of his other-worldliness. It wasn't the wasn't from the Continent or this world, it was just that he wasn't mean to really be alive. Not after the rigors he had been subjected too. That child should have died in those days. Poetically though he had died a hundred times over during his time among the 'grasses'. Eld had been a man who created nightmares as much as he faced them in the dark, but some dark memories can never be shaken by time or trial. He would always hear those moans. They were as much his as they were his fellows, only he was still here.

Sitting back again on his stool, the blacksmith would lean his head back to breath gently through his nose to calm his heart and breath. Old techniques for ordinary tasks. 11 years of exile and it still did not feel like enough.

It might never be enough.

A heavy series of thumps to his door brought the smith back to reality. His eyes lifting to the door and noticeable lack of sunlight that should be breaking through the cracks of the old wooden door. Suspicion sobered him quickly as he grimaced and got to his feet with as least amount of grunting he could muster. Standing shakily a moment would remind him to reach over to his crude cane that he'd made a few years back. There were other options to help with his motion but the true mission was always to keep questions at a minimum.

Clearing his throat with a cough, Candell would grip his cane tight and call out to the door. "We're closed. Come back after the eight bell."

A repeat of the initial heavy thumps was his only reply, causing the grimace to grow deeper as the smith planned his next move. Clearing his throat again, Candell's voice would raise as he yelled at the door again. "I said I'm closed till later int he morning. You'll have to wait."

The door quaked and shook from it's hinges as the thumps came again. Suspicion had now fled int he face of peril which meant was the time of action as he checked the cane, noting the heavy iron ball that worked as it's handle. Multi-function for everyday tools was a must in being a skilled smith and seller. The smith began the march to the door, each step painful but pushed aside as previous lessons kicked in on instinct more than need.

"I'm coming," Candell called again as approached the portal to the outside of his shop. Eventually reaching within the cane's distance to the door, he would come to a halt and reach forward with the end of his cane to swipe up the heavy latch that held his door locked. It was all done as practiced as ever as he let the cane slide back through his loose palm before gripping it tightly by the shaft. Eyes locked to the door as his free hand began to gently twist the fingers into an odd position to the common man but well known to those of his past.

"It's open," the smith did not call out this time, his voice even and flat as he spoke the simple phrase. It was all that was needed as the door handle clinked and pulled to push in.

The free hand went limp as Candell both relaxed and grimaced at the same time. "The hour is early and Duncan Waycrest comes to my door."

Filling the door with broad shoulders and face thick with a well groomed beard stood the the least seen man in all of Kovir. Perhaps even all of the Continent. But how he was seen here was a very curious sight for the smith as Waycrest was not one to wear his emotions like a lovelorn farm-girl. There was fear. An unsettling drop in Candell's stomach happened seeing his friend's stricken face. Vampires should not be afraid.

"Duncan?"

The door was closed quickly behind Waycrest pulling he hook again to lock the door once more. With his back to Candell and Duncan leaned his head into the old planks of the door, knocking softly with his forehead. "Eld I'm sorry. Truly I am."

Duncan shift about to face his friend, his hazel eyes shifting to the cane and then back to Candell's yellow. "Were you going to hit me?"

Candell dropped the cane to his side as he leaned his weight on the stick, forgoing it's previous planned life as a weapon. "Duncan, what are you doing here? What is wrong?"

Teeth would pull back to chew on his upper lips softly as Duncan spoke again. "Maybe we should sit down."

"Maybe you should spit it out already. You've already broken your vow by coming here."

"I know," a wince clear on the man's face as he rubbed his hands together. "But I had to. I had to find you before."

"Before what?"

Duncan Waycrest sighed softly and reached into the folds of his robes, drawing out a parchment. "The boys brought it to me. They said they were going to go after and see what was going on."

Eld hobbled closer to the vampire, his dragging his right leg along with a soft wince each step that made the other do the same as he watched. Taking the parchment with a suspicion plastered to his face, Candell would look to the paper and find the original drop in his stomach going further.

"Eld it's back."

Eld of Kovir locked eyes with the vampire as Duncan spoke softly again. "And it's worse."

@daily-writing-challenge

[captzexx]

🍷 a character i want to write but never made a blog for

Duncan Waycrest or Duncrest for sure.

He's a vampire I came up with randomly to use as a Regis like character for Eld in my Order of Embers stuff and later when I transitioned into writing Witcher stuff for a bit. He's got a lot to him story wise and I feel makes a great ally to my hunters as he has so much knowledge and power but is so damn melancholy.

I'm still thinking of using him again as a lot of people recently found him and have liked what I was doing with him. I liked what I was doing with him and maybe should, but my brain is all over the place with characters. We'll see with the upcoming DWC if I'll jump back into him.

If you want to look him up you can read about him some at: @eldridgecandell - tag: Duncan Waycrest or Duncrest

@acrowamongsparrows - tag: Duncan Waycrest, I even got a character page for him pinned

And as a slight mention of the upcoming Daily Writing Challenge (DWC) - @daily-writing-challenge

Thanks for the ask @amorthonblackwood

[captzexx]

Choose your fighter:

@sailsonaseaoffate

@acrowamongsparrows

@withanemeraldeye

@memoriesofivalice

Odd OC ASKS

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

🍋: What is your OC's most painful memory?

🍍: Where does your OC feel most comfortable?

🍎: Do they share any features or traits with any family members?

🍑: What sort of traits does your OC look for in a Significant Other?

🍒: Has Your OC had their first kiss yet? If so, with who?

🍓: Does your OC have any particular scents they like? Or hate?

🍆: Does your OC have any favourite form of affection, physical or otherwise?

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

🍰: What's something your OC counts as unforgivable?

🎂: Has your OC have any contradictory interests or traits to the first preception people have of the? How do they surprise people?

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to you OC?

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

🍫: Where does your OC go to think?

🍾: Does your OC believe in luck? If so, do they have any charm or ritual they do before a stressful event?

🍷: What's one of your OC's pet peeves concerning food?

🍹: Does your OC have any funny anecdotes told about them?

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day?

🥃: If your OC was in this universe, what would be their favourite show/book/band/social media platform?

🍕: How does an OC spend a lazy day?

🍔: Are there any recent trends you think your OC would hate? Or love?

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

[mazthoril]

Picrew borrowed from @acrowamongsparrows

Here's Nenniah, as I envision her!

Picrew here: [x]

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 2 - Cage/Power

Eld's eyes blinked wearily as he looked ahead along the muddy road into Yamurlak. It had been a long two weeks of travel from the village and as much as he wished he had his doubts that it would get any easier. The wagon rocked uneasily as mud splashed up around the wheels as he did his best to adjust himself on the driver seat, each jostle causing his leg to send pins and needles throughout. His jaw was beginning to ache as much as twisted thing from how much he had gritted his teeth. It would be a wonder if he didn't need to visit a barber when they reached the city.

Jamurlak.

Dark and gloomy with a past of vicious lords who found great pleasure in the torture of all manner of smallfolk. Judging from the fields of flax and grain one would think it to be prosperous just as it's sister state to the south Redania. But the pox left by the old kings had left such a blighted presence over the land it was more mercy when Radovid finally took it. A shame they never gave it the attention it needed. But such blind sighting did work in favor of others, some good and a lot bad.

"I never thought I'd come back here," murmured Duncan from behind him. Eld had gotten used to the vampire being as silent as he was and skulking despite his lack of predatory habits, which in itself was probably good for many people. Himself included.

Eld gave a soft nod as he held the reins loosely, an absent lick of the leather straps to keep the plodding beasts hooked to their wagon on their already ingrained direction. "It is definitely not in my mind to ever return either."

A strong hand would gently grip his shoulder and squeeze. "I'm sorry my friend. But, I didn't know what else to do."

The witcher would turn his head slightly and nod to the man behind him, reaching up to pat gently back. "I know."

~

Candell looked over the parchment for a third time, his palm rubbing absently at his chin as he reread the words again and again. The pair of old friend sat in the now quiet forge, the once roaring flames still hot but now crackling with sleeping embers.

'By decree of the Alderman Stok the south quarter of Jamurlak is hereby placed under military quarantine until further notice. Under no circumstance is any plant or vegetable to be removed from the burgh bearing maximum penalty to status or life. Further instruction will be provided soon.'

The blacksmith gently folded the paper and unfolded it a few times as he read the words again. They were short and vague but held a similar meaning to him from those many years ago. "And why do you think this is like before with the archespore? Quarantines happen for all sorts of reason. Plague is my better guess."

Duncan frowned and rubbed his hands again before reaching into his robe again to draw out a folded piece of leather. How the vampire was always about pulling what he needed from those ratty things Candell would never understand. Or question.

"I received this with the parchment from a traveler near the keep," Duncan explained quietly as his friend unfolded the leather to discover it's contents. "It was from Alfred."

Candell stared at the contents as a cold shiver tightened about his spine. A small yellowed pustule lay in the leather, dried and dead but recognizable from the time in the sewers. He could still smell them, foul and rank as that of a bloated corpse that had cursed those fetid tunnels. There had been hundreds of them then coating the stone in vine and root as they writhed in search of prey to feed their vengeful hunger. Or in this case, provoked vengeance.

'The earth shall rise again. We are the eaters of the dead. Now the living shall be supped. See how my flowers bloom.'

His eyes closed softly as the hag's broken monologue burned bright again in his waking nightmare. How those flowers had bloomed.

A shaky breath came and went as the smith closed the leather again. "What does it have to do with me?"

Duncan tilted his head looking at him confused. "What do you mean? You know what it is. It's grown back."

"And?"

A tilt of impatience came to the usual calm demeanor of the vampire. "And? They're at the city Eld. Janus. Alfred. They're there dealing with this or trying to. Hell. I hope they're alright."

"Since when did you care so much for the Klaudins?"

"Since when did you not?" Duncan shot back with an icy venom. Candell did his best to not flinch as he looked down once more. "I'm sorry Eld. But you can't hide here. Not right now. I know that you're worried about what will happen."

A short shake of Candell's head as he felt an ache in his hip from sitting to long. Duncan came to kneel down in front of the other man, his rough soldier's hands coming to hold onto his as he looked at him. The vampire for all his melancholy and usual stoicism was still always able to show a sincerity that the world sorely missed. "My friend, this is not your life. You are not a smith."

"I'm not a hero."

Duncan smiled with that sadness that he wore as easily as his robe. "No one needs you to be. We just need you to be yourself."

A gentle squeeze was given to his hands. "And as sad as it is for me to remind you, you are a witcher."

Candell's shoulder would droop as he took in a deep breath in and out. "I don't know."

"I do. And you can." The vampire would release him and gently grasp him by the shoulders. "I believe in you. They believe in you. Now it's your turn, Eldridge of Kovir."

~

They had left shortly thereafter, Duncan ever prepared had already packed the case he'd left a decade ago. It smell horrible. Just like how he felt. But the brace still fit. The bolts were still silver and bright. And his steel was still sharp to match the silver pommel of the griffin head that adorned his medallion. The forge went cold for the first time in 11 years.

The trail burned hot.

By cart they traveled for days south toward Lan Exeter, Duncan taking the brunt of the driving as Eld began to reacquaint himself with himself. The leg brace was nothing fancy but it was a marvel none the less. Originally forged by the mages to give him some ease in his studies within the Seren, time had worked as an ally for the clever survivor who took it upon himself to improve the design. Metal much like his sword was shaped and guided to fit his leg snugly while tight oiled leathers would grip him to support his weight in his step. It still made an eerie creaking noise when he stepped to fast but at least it kept him moving when before he would struggle with a crutch. A decade without it meant having to learn how to step lively again.

From Lan Exeter would be the first ship to Point Vanis and some direly needed new attire as well as supplies for them both. The north was hard enough if not so much on your clothes and heading south from the mountains meant a light brand of dress. Thankfully despite a poor smith's coin purse, a reluctant witcher had left a sizeable nest egg among his laid to rest equipment. The sea venture was comfortable as a sea voyage could be for a lame human and his apparently sea salted companion. Despite the incoming danger of the south, time had apparently changed nothing for the friends as they fell into the old rhythms of nostalgia, wine, and philosophy as they had shared during the downtimes within the old Griffin school.

Landing in the farming town of Blaviken had been hard as storm rocked the coast and forced them to stay in the a humble in for a few days. The rainy season always put this part of the country at a standstill when it got like this. Eld had mused that perhaps the world was trying to deter him from rejoining it. Duncan was not amused.

Two weeks of travel south had taken them to the road now east, hope and determination writ on their faces as their rented covered wagon slogged muddy roads toward the ancient capital of old Yamurlak, Jamurlak.

Now Eld could spy ahead through grey mists and low clouds the old battlements of the castle city, the mixture of grey smoke of those within added to the imagination of birthing the weather above. The witcher frowned heavily as he pulled his hood up over his head, feeling the spattering of an oncoming drizzle to them.

"Here we go again."

@daily-writing-challenge

[captzexx]

Choose your fighter:

@sailsonaseaoffate @acrowamongsparrows @memoriesofivalice @withanemeraldeye

Angsty Character Questions: 

1. Is your muse afraid of death? 2. What is your muse’s kill count?  3. What is your muse’s biggest fear?  4. How easy is it to anger your muse? 5. What is your muse’s biggest regret?  6. Does your muse believe in an afterlife?  7. How many scars does your muse have? 8. Does your muse tend to bottle things up? 9. What is one thing that would break your muse? 10. Does your muse have nightmares? What about? 11. Would your muse kill for someone they care about?  12. What was the worst injury your muse has received? 13. How much pain can your muse withstand? For how long?  14. What was the most traumatic moment in your muse’s life? 15. How often does your muse cry? Do they view it as weakness? 16. If your muse could talk to one person they’ve lost, who would it be?  17. Does your muse consider themselves a good person? Why or why not?  18. Does your muse think they’re capable of changing? Do they even want to?

[captzexx]

2023

2023.

Well, we're halfway through it and I just figured now would be a good time to update all the stuff that is or was or maybe going on with this blog.  If you're still here, thanks for staying!  If you're new, hey welcome!  If you're on your way out the door for a pack of smoke or to get the milk, see ya soon dad!

So here's the rundown.

This is a hub for all the crazy/mundane/weird/eyerolling roleplay writing stuff that I think I'm pretty decent at. On good days.  It's been a year since I had my surgery and I have literally killed a third of myself.  Now to just keep him dead.  Which is hard as my brain is in a good/bad place most of the time to match my body which is in a good/bad place, but I'm keeping it together.  Most of the time.

So if you're interested in a collab, are collaborating, or going 'where the hell did that guy go' I'm still here and I'm getting it back to form.  Ish.  I promise I'll try not to let you all down if we're interacting or will be at some point, which I would love to do!

Now that that's out of the way, here's where I'm playing these days!

THE BLOGS

@sailsonaseaoffate - My Spelljammer blog came true!  Fantasy based sci-fi adventures with Treasure Planet vibes that I do my best to stay with the setting though as with all lore I make my own!  I do what I want.  Either way, this is where most of the Candell family has found a new home on the remade Wayfarer as they search through Wildspace for a way home for some, a new home for others, or bringing that final piece back to their puzzle.  New foes, new ships, plenty of sarcasm, and lots of face punching.  Adventure among the stars with a multiversal family of rogues and swords!

@conduitdreams - Cyberpunk is getting closer to reality than we ever thought possible, which is both very exciting and terrifying.  I'm hoping to lean more into the exciting part of it, but horror and terror are common themes for me as well.  Pulling a lot from cyberpunk epics such as Bladerunner, Strange Days, and Cyberpunk Red/2020/2077, I've been doing my best craft my own little slice of synthetic neon dystopia to build a few stories from.  Midwich is a floating city built in the Gulf of San Andreas after the great quake that split California from the mainland essentially making it's own free floating city-state.  Where most see it as the end of the world for golden state, it has done but flourish thanks to move and now is the ultimate producer of food supplies as well as other natural resources.  New trade markets had to be made and with it came the creation of these middlemen cities that processed items from place to another. It's very loose setting in my head that is welcome for more voices and ideas to help flesh it.  Come run the net and see with artificial vision searching for a soul!

@acrowamongsparrows - Steel for men, silver for monsters.  I love horror.  I love fantasy.  I love the Witcher.  Would I call myself a superfan?  No.  I would I call myself a big fan?  Hell yes.  Do I know all the minutia and information about the world?  Good god no.  But I did make my own witcher and I did piece together a 'Scooby-doo' crew for him to battle all sorts of things that go bump in the night.  I am no lore god (I do respect it though) but these are our stories and I feel like we should be able to tell them how or why we want to.  So, if you'd like to hunt monsters, beat up elves, and dodge vampires join me as Eld of Kovir travels with his nephews into the depths of monstrosity.

ON HOLD

@thedreaminghunger - I had high hopes for Oplisca and wandering the cosmic horror I built up around her with the mythos and the bits of Warcraft butchery that I'd clung too.  But I just can't seem to get a hold of it.  I'm not sure I have enough level in pure weird to truly give her what she needs to become the monster I see in my mind for her.  Traversing the multiverse in search of herself so that she can consume them and grow in power in the many eyes of her 'Love'.  Maybe I'll get there or if someone has an idea to push my feral end of space witch into stratosphere I dream of.

@memoriesofivalice - My poor FF14 characters, I had a big cast and a lot of my mind when I tweaked and created them all for this MMO.  I loved the game but I found myself spending most of my time alone and just kind of got tired of the story grind.  I joined a great guild of storytellers and people, but my heart just couldn't get into it.  As much as I distance myself from WoW, it still hurts me so deeply after everything that happened and continues to happen with them.  Maybe I'm tainted with MMOs.  Maybe I should revamp to just be a Final Fantasy blog and do my own thing with people.  I mean there's 16 of them and only like two really connected by sequels.  I hope an idea comes because this cast deserves to not be forgotten.  Or maybe rebooted at least.

@withanemeraldeye - 'Between the time when the oceans drank Atlantis and the rise of the sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of. And unto this, Conan, destined to wear the jeweled crown of Aquilonia upon a troubled brow.'  I used to play a lot of Conan Exiles and I honestly can say I watched Conan the Barbarian once a month when it's streaming as I love everything about sword & sorcery.  Pulp fantasy has always been huge for me to match with the incredible art and style presented by such artists Sanjulian, Jeffrey Catherine Jones, and the king himself Frazetta. So making a brutal pulp fantasy character was inevitable for how much I dig the simple but exciting concept.  But it's been quiet here for me and that breaks my heart for what I put together for Voldrin in the Exiled Lands fighting for survival with the Black Sword across his back.  I hope I can get back into it again.

FUTURE

I am interested in anything or anything to collaborate on.  You wanna do an urban fantasy adventure?  Let's do it Dresdan style.  Airships and moncoles?  I'm there.  Transdimensial time travel with Quantam Leap infintie lives?  That sounds really cool and I would love to explore it.  We run a coffee shop for people in the urban heart of a Pacific Northwest City?  That sounds a lot slice of life, but I am intrigued on what it may bring.  

The skies the limit for me and all we need is to do is say 'Hey I got an idea!'  

So, that's me.  It's 2023.  I need to be creative.  So do you.  

Team work makes the dream work.

Or synergy.

Insert corporate slogan.

[captzexx]

2024

Here we go 2024.

I've made it to level 40, I guess I get a mount and extra talents. I'm still waiting for something to rear it's head appropriately for that.

So far it's not.

But if you're arriving or been for some time expecting me to do something that I say I'm gonna do, well shit. I'm sorry.

This blog is hub for all my would be writing stuff and delusions of roleplaying/collaborating with other writers in the comforting hellscape that is Tumblr. Once again I'm sorry as I can't make any promises of getting better at it.

Still down a third of myself from last year but the fear is growing as my waist kind of gets settled and muscles continue to atrophy with my growing apathy. My brain is still on a downswing as much as I fight at it punch drunk and mildly stoned.

As sad and angst laden this may be, I'm just in a mood and figured I should do a quick update as we're well out of 2023.

Onward to the content and hopefully a constructive manic episode or two.

THE BLOGS

@eldridgecandell - This is it. She ain't much, but she's the one that died and came back that I keep trying to focus on. Join me on a short explanation:

Eldridge Candell, Inquisitor of the Order of Embers, has returned to Azeroth from beyond the Veil and bein lost in the great Astral Sea. As the worlds began to collapse and the collective haze that had been the Shadowlands Conspiracy blew away so did Candell into a new world.

But it wasn't his.

Never should be or could be. He belonged where he had always been doing the thing that he was truly good at. Unfortunately that road would have be walked alone and with a whole new slew of problems. Missing students, apathetic governments, bureaucracy, and the general march of time as age catches up to any soldier.

This blog focuses on Eldridge primarily but it is not exclusive to him as I suffer/revel in alt-aholism causing me to make up a diverse cast of characters to play with the witch hunter. From Cheryl Duun a disgruntled and lost Inquisitor; Josiah Nubern a fellow apprentice of Candells who has gone over to the edge; the wandering vengeful shadow of Alfred Klaudin, a Forsaken zealot who refuses to give up his Dark Lady. More remain and are open for interaction as I make up a new cast list for them all if anyone is ever interested in playing with my version of the Order of Embers.

ON HOLD

@acrowamongsparrows - an AU of Eld as a Witcher; the show burned me so hard but every once in awhile I look at the books and wonder.

@conduitdreams - cyberpunk with robots and mecha; it just never really took off like I wanted it to or hoped others might have been interested.

@withanemeraldeye - sword and sorcery pulp adventure based around a lot of Conan Exiles and lore; another quiet experiment that is in the back of my head

@sailsonaseaoffate - the final resting place of Zexx Candell and his family, letting them sail off into the sunset among the stars in my version of Spelljammer; I might go back to it as well depending on what strikes me

@memoriesofivalice - my poor Final Fantasy 14 story blog for an AU Zexx and company; big plans but no execution as I just couldn't get enough into the game

THE FUTURE

That more or less sums up where I am at in February of 2024. I'm trying but stumbling dragging as much as I want to be productive and creative. I'm so sorry for all those I've let down in the work and play, maybe I can make it up to you and prove I've got something to say. Just need to figure out what can charge me up. Ideas are always welcome and patient words of affirmation are always gratefully appreciated.

Here we go with the rest of the year.

[captzexx]

Ask away, pick your poison or just me.

@acrowamongsparrows

@sailsonaseaoffate

@conduitdreams

@withanemeraldeye

Free For All Friday!

Ask questions about their past or current events! Ask probing questions! Ask naughty questions! Tell them something you’ve always wanted to say! Ask for advice! No type of ask is off limits on Free For All Friday!

ANON IS ON! *Be sure to practice good question/reblog karma!*

Doing these for @dicenne and @tazindrox​

[captzexx]

FC: Ian Somerhalder

Lord Luin Vas Halven played by Ian Somerhalder

"Lord Halven called me to aid with a strange infestation within his grounds," Eld spoke calmly as he sipped at his wine, adjusting his bad leg with a casual grimace.

Duncan perked up with a slight smile as the two settled in the depths of the library in their usual sitting spot near the large fireplace. "So you're a ratcatcher as well?"

Eld snorted a short laugh as he thought back to that night facing the horde of vermin and their very strange master. "In a way, though I was lucky Wilmina and Gregor were with me that day."

"Ah, those kind of rats."

@dardillien-ward

@acrowamongsparrows

[captzexx]

Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without.

@acrowamongsparrows

"Just three things?" Janus would lean back in his chair thinking a moment before nodding with a slight smile. "Music, the road, and palinka."

With the last word spoken, Janus Klaudin would draw out a slender bottle and pop the cork with a delighted sigh. "Let us share a drink eh?"

@unabashedrebel

[captzexx]

Choose your fighter:

@sailsonaseaoffate @acrowamongsparrows @memoriesofivalice @withanemeraldeye

A song for my Muse

Send and ask regarding my Muse’s Music and what they’d send to yours!

😮‍💨 - for a song that makes my muse think of you

🥺- for when your muse is feeling down

🥴 - a song my muse will play for yours drunk

😭 - for when your muse needs a sad song

🧐 - a questionable song my muse would send yours

🙃 - my muse’s guilty pleasure song to give to yours

🎉 - my muse’s party song

💀- a song my muse uses to party

🥵- a song my muse will play to ‘serenade’ yours (results may vary)

😝 - an anthem for both our muses

I don’t know how to turn anon on!

[captzexx]

“Short cuts make long delays.”- Ghawaine

The barrel was eased into place with gentle ease, the thin sturdy frame of Duncan Waycrest un-phased by weight or size. It was all rather meaningless in the long run to him but the time and the practice of this trade filled that time. Dark eyes lifted to survey the numerus casks he had set up with the depths of Kaer Seren, a slight smile coming to his face as he nodded. "This will do nicely."

"How long do you think it will take?" The familiar voice of Eld echoing within the cleared storeroom stone walls, a soft tap of a cane matching his voice.

"Will it take? Perhaps a year or two," Duncan patted the cask once more before adjusting his robes before moving back to his friend and the way back up. "But I would like them to sit for longer, allow the taste to truly rest and grow."

Duncan smiled again to Eld as he gently patted the witcher's shoulder. "Come, patience is a virtue as they say."

@ghawainearcane

@acrowamongsparrows

[captzexx]

👻 ghost: can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

WIP Ideas

Spelljammer - I love the setting and all there is to it with multiverse, sailing, space, and who knows what. A lot of visions are of taking old WoW OCs and moving them into that sort of life with the Candells crewing a vessel across the Astral Sea in search of who knows what. I just haven't gotten the time to sit down and get it done, but who knows when I finally pick up the books and get a bit more inspirado.

Lord of the Rings - Picked up the The One Ring the other day and have been staring at it for some time especially with Rings of Power and showing my kids the Peter Jackson movies. I enjoyed RoP a lot to be inspired by where they're going with the end of Season 1 for places we haven't seen enough for. The idea of being a Haradrim or a dwarf from the Ironhills has been in my head a few times with trying to get some movement in LotR RP. I used to do it a lot when I was a younger and have a lot of fun playing in that setting with that group of folks.

Final Fantasy - I kind of wanna revisit my Final Fantasy cast I set up over at Ivalice ( @memoriesofivalice ). Not because I have been playing FF14 enough (or at all) but I got super excited by some old art from Amano. It just blows me away and is so inspiring. I'm old as well, so the old games (1-6) are deep set in my heart to try and play with those concepts. Bring on the sprites.

There's probably more rattling around in this coconut of a head of mine, but I don't know if I could put them on paper right away without the proper push. It'll probably happen at the worst moment. For now I keep pushing to get my Witcher stuff ( @acrowamongsparrows ) under way and established, it's more an amalgam of what I would want out of it then probably what is lore friendly. I don't care though. I'm the storyteller of my own game and I'll take it where I want.

@saltmageprime

[captzexx]

Lacquer - for the L prompt!

The brush dipped again into the bucket, the heavy sigh of it's bearer matching the lack of enthusiasm as he ran it across the canvas roof again.

"Alfred," came the calm but stern tone of Gregor Klaudin. "Watch what you are doing there."

"Yes, father," the young man replied as he tried not to let out another sigh as he continued to spread the thick sealant across the thick cloth.

The older man shook his head as he watched his son work, a mixture of pride and scrutiny on his bearded face. Once more he spoke again, his finger pointing to the bottom length of the rounded roof. "Careful of the edge there, you won't want any leakage around that point."

"Yes, Father."

"Did you check the chimney and seal it?"

"Yes, Father."

"You are using the good mix from your grandfather, correct?" Gregor asked he made his way to stand closer behind his son.

"Yes, Father." Alfred rolled his eyes as he continued to work, doing his best to keep his tone level as he had said the passed four times.

It didn't work. It never worked.

"Watch your tone, son," the older man's voice sterner as the calm still maintained but definitely bore edge to it. "You'll be thanking me come the rainy season and you're not soaked as much inside as outside."

"I know," Alfred dipped his brush in again as he set his jaw firmly as he tried to live in the shadow his parent cast.

Gregor would come to stand now beside Alfred as he saw the set of the jaw of the boy. No. Not a boy. A young man, catching up quickly with his older brother. So much so they now had to have two wagons for their family, which he was very thankful for as the two seemed to have grow twice their size in the last year. It would be nice to have some privacy all the time with himself and Mina. But there was a pang deep in his heart of the loss that could not be stopped here.

The boy was becoming a man. And soon the man would need to leave. A vision of a young dark haired child playing swords with is older brother brought a deeper pang of sadness this time at a moment that would only live in his memory.

"Give me the brush," Gregor spoke softly as he held out his hand.

"What?"

"Give me the brush, Alfred."

"What did I do?" The son both confused and worried over his father's request as he turned it about to hand it over.

Gregor shook his head as he took the brush and gently pushed the younger out of the way. "Nothing, go on and find something to do in the town."

Alfred looked even more confused as he tilted his head, but Gregor only gave him a playful kick in the rear. "Go on boy, before I find something else for you to do."

He didn't have to tell Alfred twice as the young Klaudin headed into the village. Gregor only shook his head with a sad smile as he continued to seal the canvas of his son's new home.

@whitedawn-wra

@acrowamongsparrows

[captzexx]

@memoriesofivalice

@withanemeraldeye

@acrowamongsparrows

Please Reblog This If It’s Okay To:

Send questions about yourself

Ask questions to/about your characters

Ask about your headcanons 

Send questions about your works (fanfics, art, music, RPs, etc) 

Ask about popular ships/headcanons

Ask about plot ideas you’ve had but haven’t acted upon yet (snippets of AUs, a scenario you wish to write/draw but haven’t gotten to yet)

Questions about other ships/headcanons that aren’t as popular or are rarepairs

Questions or comments about favorite tropes, headcanons, characters, foods, weather, or anything else you are okay in answering!