#luminaryofblood -> ‘Mohg’

[an0ther-f00ls-muse]

“Hmm..?.” Malenia just quietly mumbled out as she heard him speaking, her blinded gaze looking at the logical direction of where she assumed he was at as she thought about an answer for the next few shortish moments or so. “Maybe it ‘invigorates’ but-…” Malenia began to say but soon-..just cut herself off mid sentence as she realized something..where did the blood even come from.?..did she even wish to know-?..ah-..her own curiosity soon just got the best of her. “..Where-..where did it even come from?..”

“I’ve got you”

//From an0ther-f00ls-muse & with my Malenia goodness of rot muse!\\

"... But who has you?" The Lord of Blood looked over his shoulder, standing tall, drenched in blood. A looming figure. Demonic.

"... The blood invigorates."

[blcksyrup]

@luminaryofblood snatched this bc Thio is in an affectionate mood

Thiollier hadn't expected Mohg to accept such spur of the moment affection so readily but grounded himself quickly as this meant he had much easier access to his horns and anatomy than he had with the paltry height of the average tarnished.

"Please, if anything feels off, tell me and I'll stop."

He wasn't that well read about Omens partly due to the prejudice against them and because his own interests had hardly aligned with such curiosity. Now he had the opportunity to explore, wondering if hooking fingers about the horns curling Mohg's head felt similarly to the way one would card fingers through hair.

[flameimpaler]

“ No one will hold me captive. “ [luminaryofblood]

@luminaryofblood

"Oh? Thou speakst as though from experience, Omen."

It is no secret Messmer holds great disregard for the hornsent and their kin, the omens.

[crybaby-tarnished]

💌 immediately sinks down into a pool of blood. [luminaryofblood]

Fyra makes a face, then grabs a mop and starts mopping the blood up, mumbling about people being 'inconsiderate' and 'messy'.

"One of your bloody fingers killed a friend of mine." she smears blood on the floor, "Yura was a good man, and he saved my life once. Now he is gone, killed by a woman he adored. So lets just say, I don't have high opinions of you. All this murder and blood, and for what? Makes no sense. Neither your dynasty or those stupid Recusants make any sense to me..."

[empyreau]

Miquella felt his body grow cool, numb, unfeeling to the very air around it. It built up like an invisible weight and worked to smother him ever so slowly. No matter how just or pure one's intentions, the road to godhood demanded the very basest of its prospects—their body's flesh and blood. And there could be no new god without a consort. With his own blood, Mohg's body, and Radahn's soul the ritual had been completed and his godhood attained. From a body covered with and defiled by his blood to one awash in golden luminance Miquella was renewed. The stain remained, however, entangled with the very threads of his divinity.

He breathed the heavy air in and out, sinking ever deeper within it. With Mohg's body regenerated would it now be required of him to give of his blood and flesh for eternity? The throes of burgeoning godhood forever the mark upon his new age.

"The ritual I had performed on thee is most unforgivable and so I will not ask thy forgiveness." He could feel the contained heat from that eye sear into his own and still he continued to hold it. What, truly, was a god: a being to make others fall prostrate before it, or a being at the mercy of those who venerated it? To be reviled was simply the other half to being revered.

"Thy Mother of Truth demands, and thou craves," he said softly, like trying to push back a boulder with a feather. "Yet, somehow I feel that it is the reverse." He started to reach out a hand for he saw a spattering of blood upon one of Mohg's many horns but he paused as he watched it spread. A vision only. "This love . . . in what form does thou desire it be given . . ."

"... And mine it shall be," Mohg finished. And at last he looked upon the empyrean-turned-god, his eye narrowed with a fury held in restraint. For though a god Miquella had become, he was a hypocrite in Mohg's eye. For what compassion had he been spared?

Miquella had given no regard to Mohg's soul... It had taken time for him to manifest in this new body of his, granted to him by the Mother of Truth. Whether Miquella would have returned to him, he knew not. But where things stood, as it were, in Mohg's mind, he was nothing more than a tool that had seen its use, and been discarded.

"You have brought me great pain and humiliation in your quest, kindly Miquella," said Mohg.

"The Mother of Truth craves wounds. And there is none greater than that of abandonment... It has taken a great deal of time for this body of mine to regenerate, and a longer time yet before I have fully recovered. But I do not seek healing from you. No... You may rule the lands above while I make the lands below my domain. But I demand recompense, for I have been burned most terribly by your flame of ambition... As recompense, I would demand the love that you abandoned."

It was a bold move on his part. For who was he to make demands of a god?

[fellomenking]

Right...!

I've a little server - to put it bluntly, it's a Morgott Simp Server.

I'd like to say that I'm looking to bring in some new peeps! If you are at all interested, feel free to zap me with a message(here, krakenguard or luminaryofblood - whichever works) and I'll invite you in!

I do however have some rules, which are as follows:

1) No Minors This is an 18+ Server. Content of the NSFW nature will be found in the server. With that in mind, there will be absolutely no minors allowed. If you are under the age of 18, you will be removed.

2) No Harassment Any form of discrimination, be it in the form of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia or the like, will not be tolerated.

3) Be Respectful No callouts. No vague posting.

Furthermore, the server has a Kink Friendly Stance. That means that all kinks are welcome! "Your kink is not my kink, and that's okay!" "Dead Dove, Do Not Eat/Don't like, Don't read" We all have our squicks; all I ask is that you don't start drama because someone is into something that you, personally, are not.

For instance, some of us ship Mohg and Miquella... Sometimes to varying flavors. I understand that that's not everyone's cup of tea. But please, do not cause drama for others because it's a squick for you personally. Remember: no callouts. No vague posting. "Your kink is not my kink, and that's okay!" "Dead Dove, Do Not Eat/Don't like, Don't Read."

[redliongeneral]

:: growing horns ::

Radahn has been having odd headaches for a while, but he tried to ignore them. They were still trying to make their way into the keep, having to make a big detour to avoid the furnace golem and other dangers.

He reached up and felt something in his hair, something sharp. Four of them. "Mohg? Is there something weird in my hair? I feel some... growths." @luminaryofblood

[avesomnia-inhoramortis]

"Oh..." Trina trilled at him softly, like an owl, and immediately began her own work.

She knew this behavior. When she sat in the minds of her owls, she often helped pad the nests and warm the silent eggs. She had never hatched one, which was a bit strange considering how often she did this- but she knew the motions, and knew what her feathered companions looked for.

The smallest birds secured their nests with spider silk, and many stole tufts of fur or hair. She knew how to spin- so she spun silk from nothing in this dream, glittering pale constellations to tuck between feathers and plant-matter, shoring up the sides. Trina got to work tucking Mohg and his babies in- a bit of star-spun silk here, a bit of leaf here, a tuft or two of her own endless mane to make the whole thing properly cozy and warm.

She crawled around singularly possessed until it was done, and only stopped to think when there was no more space to weave in bits of comfort, blinking in owlish surprise at her lord and herself.

...having something to do with her hands might, in fact, have been an excellent distraction from the brood patch on his chest. He was busy. She was not to wiggle under there and faceplant in it.

She flushed bright purple anyway.

A huffed breath escaped her, half a laugh, and she looked at him with mild humor. "None like you. You are very singular, my lord." She straightened his shirt collar for emphasis, fussing at the lay of it a little. Mostly for an excuse to have her hands on him in general.

"I have not seen any omen, but I have no reason to think they are not welcome- there are Misbegotten knighted among his ranks, albinaurics. I am not sure, but I think I saw a pest or two...?" All of that was safe enough to say.

But.

"In truth, I have not visited often. My people find refuge there, and so I guide more in turn. As for Miquella... he is kind. He intends many great things for the world, and all its abandoned children. But you must understand, my knight-owl." She looked him full in the eye, too old and too young and so very, very tired. "I am kind when I carry bairns to their eternal rest. Deathbirds are kind when they burn mortals to ash. The queen-mother was kind when she did not shear your horns. I trust Miquella to mean well, and to bend all his might to doing good in this world. But you carry the mark of the Formless Mother, and I have... never spoken to him about gods other than the Scorpion. I would have you send a courier, as Lady Ranni does and as befits a lord- or if you must go yourself, then go with my symbol as well."

Kissing him briefly, she murmured: "I have never had a true knight before, and Miquella knows this. You would make quite an impression on him."

All else accounted for, she would not hesitate. But Miquella refused rest and love and even reason itself, if it stood between him and pinning the Rot like a bug to a card. He was as sharp as he was clever, and she loved him even so- but there was every chance he could talk Mohg into exorcising his Mother with some well-placed words and no room to reflect.

There was every chance Malenia would detect the ripples of another god and simply kill him.

Trina, who deeply appreciated taking room to reflect and had nearly spawned a religion from it, let a lingering thought finally surface. Was there some way to speak to gods? Perhaps through Mohg himself in some form. She was well fed up with the Scorpion's ire- she would rather have the Formless Mother's permission to claim her son, if she could acquire it.

Trina was not a creature of worry. Not for anyone but Miquella. Was this what happened, when one had reciprocal love? Strange terror?

[blcksyrup]

@avesomnia-inhoramortis: Trina would probably give him a heart attack, but she LOVES snuggles. @an0ther-f00ls-muse: Probably my ascended-Trina and maybe Fia (& Godwyn if she could convince him somehow tbh idk why but I think it be funny) @luminaryofblood: ... Hell - after all he's been through, probably Mohg.

Sleepover!!! All Thio needs to do as gather up all the snacks, pillows, and blankets and he's all set. With Trina involved they could probably just use some of her sleepy zaza juice since Thio's isn't as good at achieving a state of gentle sleep.

[abandcned]

T H R E A D S — V A R R É || @luminaryofblood ❤'d for starter!

The steps slowed down as Varré approached the immediate presence of their Lord. The gaze behind the emotionless mask, radiant of devotion and hopes he had for the upcoming Dynasty. His part in its growth. It pained him to think... the news he had to deliver, weren't exactly the favorable ones.

By now, new blood should have been knighted - yet, the lowborn he had recently been unfortunate to encounter, wouldn't be a fit to serve the Luminary, even if repented. The time and care wasted on that false hope, he didn't wish to think about that embarrassment and irritation. Such a shame, he should have seen the signs long before, the call of the Fingers had already won.

They weren't the first, nor the last, whose blood would nourish the birth ground of the Dynasty. Alas, they required numbers. His poor colleagues, hadn't found the peace he had.

Getting down on a knee, his veiled head bowed deep before the towering figure.

" O' Luminary Mohg..." He announced his arrival with the greeting. His gaze lifted just a little bit for a peek. " You summoned me, my lord."

[krakenguard]

This is the main blog of a roleplayer with a bunch of sideblogs for RP! If you are at all interested, I run the following blogs for the following muses:

Elden Ring Morgott: @fellomenking Mohg: @luminaryofblood Tarnished OC: @thalassaschel

Bloodborne Gilbert: @lanternfading

[unalloyeddivinity]

"You speak of poison, but they were poisoned long ago. This is a dagger in the throat of the incurable, giving it its respite in death instead of thrashing in slow, dying agony." A rather grim image.

"And Morgott knew them not at all, either, nor us. For us to be traitors would only be true if they did not betray us first. The Golden Order left Malenia to her rot without respite, they outcast so many, and..."

Miquella weighed his words. Mohg wished for his hand and a marriage would solidify their alliance in a way that would be difficult to undo. It would come up if they wed. Best get it out of the way, so he could cut the alliance before they were too bound together if Mohg reacted poorly.

"I had my form kept secret, too, even from the Order. Not the curse, though they could do nothing for that. I am both male and female, something the Order finds perverse, since they hold both must be separate things."

He wondered, with a twinge of guilt, if that is why Marika split part of herself off into Radagon, trapped by her own rules.

[luminaryofblood] Subtlety wasn't exactly a forte of Mohg's. Given his enormous size, each footfall was accompanied by a rumble as the Lord of Blood made his approach.

He knelt down behind his beloved empyrean. Drawing the red silken scarf that was wrapped around his shoulders, he brought it around Miquella's own.

"The night grows ever chill... May this bring you warmth, my beloved."

Miquella sat, watching out into the night when Mohg came. He accepted the scarf, which was more like a blanket on his small frame. It was a thoughtful gesture, and Miquella was almost... relieved that it was Mohg's. The humans who followed him, in particular, held him to be too pure to ever give him something they had used.

"Thank you."

Miquella had been mulling over much. He was half-tempted to put himself to sleep for a respite. But he had questions, and he needed information. His needles had a certain ability to ward away influence, but the question was, which influences should and should not be prevented? He was toying with a new theory.

"I wish to know something about the blood god you follow. Is she in all blood, or is it only certain kinds of blood? How does she weave into life? And death, if death had not been removed, or if it is restored?"

[miserycorde]

From the blood, a figure emerged. Clad in robes of black, adorned in red and gold. From various odd places, small horns pierced through the dampened fabric, twisting every which way and that.

"... I come on behalf of the Lord of Blood," said the Sanguine Noble.

"He wishes to have word with his White-Masks... He spoke thine name, and would bid thee hasten to the palace." [luminaryofblood]

@luminaryofblood

Receiving information from Sanguine Nobles was not an uncommon occurrence for Nepenthe. They were indeed the prolific missionaries responsible for spreading the gospel of accursed blood and of a station far higher than her own, dripping and fervent in their loyalty towards Mohg. From their lips, tasks would be issued unto her, whether that be subterfuge or collection or bloodletting. This was expected.

What was not expected, however, was a direct summons from the Lord of Blood. Not entirely exclusive to her, it would seem, but towards any of her cohort that remained within the throes of sanity... which, at this point, included very little.

Her mouth went dry. The scorching blood beneath her veins itched. She swallowed hard.

Ah, it was always so much easier when she could operate under the eyes of the Dynasty, out of side, out of mind, unworthy of higher recognition. What could he have possibly needed that he couldn't simply ask of Varré? She supposed that she would find out soon enough. After a few seconds of agonizing silence, Nepenthe bowed her head towards the Noble in a show of deference.

"Very well. Thank you for informing me. I will be swift."

...

And she'd do just that, of course, whisking herself away to the wretched blood-mire of the mausoleum and creeping nervously toward Mohg's court. If she at all hesitated before the lift, it was fleeting, for she would be one poor servant if she willingly kept their Lord waiting.

[avesomnia-inhoramortis]

... He couldn't believe it even when he saw it with his own eye. And yet there she was. Though her skin was cold, her smile, even in death, carried a certain warmth to it. And o, how his heart ached as he beheld her... His heart ached, whether she was privy to Miquella's plans or not. His heart ached whether she was in full support. His heart ached whether she stood in opposition of his plans. But regardless, his heart ached.

He had followed the crosses. Until at last he came to the point where Miquella had abandoned his love. And he could only weep as he looked upon her sleeping face, ever serene.

Radahn, who's soul yet lingered, stayed his voice and remained silent as Mohg settled, lying down beside the flower-girl, leaving but a single bloodied rose in her hair, a clawed finger coming to gently caress her cheek. [luminaryofblood][verse: revival]

No thoughts to give a voice, no fire to flush her cheek- at last, stillness. At last, peace. All are born in blood, and all return to blood.

So it was with her, smiling even with purple gore dried against her cheek and mingling with the ghost of tears. She had not expected to survive what was necessary. She was grateful, nonetheless.

Purple locks twined around the rose with the base instinct of a gentle flytrap, adding this small rootless thing to the greater whole. Never to wither, never to fade- for love freely given was love greatly treasured, and she always had loved his roses.

[the-thorn-in-your-veins]

"I see your renowned arrogance has been left quite intact." {luminaryofblood}

"Luminary Mohg?" Varré scrambled to kneel before his lord, smug poise suddenly abandoned in favor of deference. "Do forgive my impertinence, I-... It has simply been so long since last I was graced by your presence." He took a deep breath, collecting himself, adjusting his posture.

"Have I displeased you in some way, my Lord? Have I strayed from my purpose in your absence? Surely my immodesty is naught but a reflection of how very much I have to be proud of as an esteemed member of your flock, as an emissary of your love?"

[izar-tarazed]

Her eyes widened as he waved his wings, watching in awe as feathers fell and danced to the ground. At his response, she blinked, then beamed in earnest delight. Carefully, she stepped closer and collected three feathers that seemed best suited for her purposes, handling them with great care. She glanced back up at Mohg, her eyes still shining with joy. ‟Are you sure? Thank you. This is very generous, and they will help me a lot with my map-making… I can show you one once I finish it. Thank you.”

@luminaryofblood replied to your post “... This is decidedly not the kind of ride Izar...”:

"Heavens, those gargoyles are as immodest as my dear brother..."

​"I must say, I find them rather courteous. Very considerate of them to help me down there. ... And unlike your brother, they have wings! What do you think of those, by the way?"