#oc: leoric

[grimbothefool]

trying to get out of my art funk by uh...redrawing stupid shit

[seagiri]

i love my ocs theyre keeping me sane

[halfbloodsnowy]

Penance Ch. 7: Excerpt

Full Fic -> Penance: AO3

Rating: Explicit | Pairings: Amell/Cullen, Amell/OC | Dark Romance

Chapter 7: Friends

The constant headache he had thinking of Ruvena lessened somewhat, and his mind drifted back to Amell.

He chewed on his lip, thinking of what he’d say when he saw her again.

His heart skipped a beat.

I’m going to see her again.

After so many years, how could the mere thought of her still make him burn?

She was trapped in his mind, forever, he hoped once they met again he might be able to move on. It was unhealthy how he still dreamt of her, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it.

He closed his eyes and imagined what she might be like now. It seemed impossible to envision her differently than he remembered.

She was still the apprentice in his mind. The sweet, smiling girl that had taken his foolish heart with the sound of her voice.

And the demons twisted that love into something horrible.

His skin prickled, and he frowned.

There was a knock at his door.

“Enter,” he said, grateful for the distraction.

Leoric opened the door, letter in hand, “I’ve just read the letter! He married, uh…” Leoric looked at the letter again, “Lady Shayna, now Teyrna Cousland.”

Cullen’s stomach flipped and he felt ill, “M-married Lady Shayna?” he repeated stupidly.

“Yes,” said Leoric. “You know who that is?”

“I, no,” he lied. “You didn’t have to come tell me this.”

“Well, you asked, and I couldn't remember, so,” Leoric winced, popping his hip. “I’ll leave you be, Knight-Captain.”

“Thank you.”

Leoric closed the door, and Cullen felt queasy. Reaching for the stale water on his desk, he chugged it in one go.

Married to the Teyrn.

This complicated things.

How could he waltz in, and take a Teyrn’s wife? The Order dictated he could, by all rights, but the Teyrn was second only to the King of Ferelden and it was no secret King Alistair despised the Templar Order.

King Alistair had also seen him at his worst, crying in a cell.

Had he slipped and mentioned the demon to them? It was so long ago, and he couldn’t remember. That time felt like a nightmare, covered in tarp and buried under sand.

If he were caught trying to kidnap Teyrn Cousland’s wife, there would be scandal and he doubted King Alistair would side with him. Especially if he remembered the insanity he was babbling on about all those years ago.

Cullen shook the thoughts from his head. It was too big a problem for him to figure out now.

He’d think of something, he usually did, because what he knew for certain was that he had to see her again. No matter the cost.

And he only had two months to prepare.

[traveler-of-realms]

14 & 17-20 for the oc of your choosing?

Thank you for the ask. Answering this for Kazamir and his reincarnation, Cassandra, as well as their lover Leoric.

How does your OC wish to be seen by other characters?

Kazamir: Cold, detached, wise, powerful. All the qualities that make a good warrior priest.

Cassandra: Reliable, good-natured, rowdy. She wishes to be an adventurer. She wishes for Leoric to see her as her own person, and not as her past self.

Leoric: Reliable, dependable, steadfast. Someone who can weather the storm and come out all the stronger for it.

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story wise?

Kazamir: Must hide his relationship with Leoric, lest he wish to be put to death. He is also killed by Leoric so both of them could have immortality.

Cassandra: Forced to reckon with her past as a bloodthirsty priest. Kazamir's spirit quite literally possesses her and attempts to take over her body.

Leoric: His murder of Kazamir, in a twisted attempt to be together forever. It worked, but it still haunts him. Also, Kazamir's return and the sadistic choice of letting Cassandra die and staying with Kazamir, or killing Kazamir once again.

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

Kazamir: Very cold.

Cassandra: Everyone is a friend.

Leoric: Slow to warm up, but is a good friend once you break his walls down.

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Kazamir: That is not an answer you want, believe me. Your best outcome is a swift death if you anger him.

Cassandra: Screaming, crying, throwing of a plate or two. A very passionate woman, arguments can get heated quickly.

Leoric: Silent. He learned quickly not to voice anger towards Kazamir. Even though Kazamir would never harm him, it is best if Leoric picks his battles with him. Kazamir is a stubborn man.

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Kazamir is a very jealous man. No one can have Leoric, and even routine meetings that Leoric must have with other priests in other regions make him uneasy. It tends to manifest as keeping Leoric close, cuddling him and refusing to let him out of his sight.

Cassandra is far less possessive, but she does not like Leoric speaking to others in a flirty manner. She tends to snap at him if she thinks he is being a little too friendly, though Leoric never dreams of leaving her.

Leoric grips tighter onto his partner if they are growing distant. This happened a few times with Kazamir, who was very absorbed in his work many nights. Usually, this meant spending time using Kazamir as a pillow while he finished his paperwork. With Cassandra, it usually means talking to her, and letting her ramble for hours on end about whatever has taken her fancy as of late.

[uthonmars]

Witchers' Hunter

A sassy and quite bashful bounty hunter stumbles across the wrong creatures. 3,405 words

Blood, gore, maybe body horror, and of course my favourite, unintentional fearplay.

Honestly, just skip to under the cut, the beginning is just a filler but I guess it'd help make sense of the story, so maybe don't.

I was sent on a mission to dispel a Witch in the woods, but of course my luck wasn't in favour today.

She wasn't your typical one, just making healing potions and magik spells to those who needed it; she was far worse. There have been many reports of her stealing farmers' livestock and purposely wrecking their fields of crops. It would be no surprise if I was being lied to just to get the Witch away because of prejudice and her practices, but now coming face to face to her I've realised I came underprepared.

She was nasty to say the least. Decapitated animal heads hung from her hut, dripping blood profusely. She stood before me, nails sharp and ugly with a stereotypical wicked grin on her face.

“Well if it isn't a measly Human,” she snarled nastily. “I've never purposely had a head of your own kind before.”

“And you won't be getting one today.” I scoffed lightly and she didn't leave room for anymore conversation.

Quickly I pulled out my daggers as she lunged at me, swinging her nails at me. I cut at her, landing my blades against her shoulder but she didn't falter, only moving faster in anticipation to get my throat. I grunted as she swiped at my arm, cutting through my stupidly thin armour. My skin began to burn, a raging fire spreading across my skin.

Did she poison her nails? If this goes on for much longer I’ll need to retreat, and the Witch knows this.

I charged at her, lunging for her face so I could quickly cut off her head. I was too slow to doge her grab at my throat, meaning she gripped me by it and held me in the air. Her mistake because with one quick slash I cut off her hand, and when I landed back on the ground I proceeded to tackle her. She thrashed around, screaming in my face and calling me awful names.

“I'll send you where even Witches don't want to go!” she blew something in my face catching me totally off guard. I jumped back, tripping over her now self aware cut off hand.

Fuck.

“Bye, little human.” she cackled and I was sent through a portal, so conveniently knocking me out.

“Mmm,” I groaned awake, head and arm throbbing in pain. “Fuck.”

I lay there for a few moments, just wanting to rest. Now where am I?

I sprung to my feet, quickly regretting it because of the way my head throbbed more. Great, where did that wretched Witch-Bitch send me to?

The good thing was, I'm not in a forest.

High wooden walls surrounded me, but a small crack of light seeped through an opening at the front. Gathering my discarded things that fell off my satchel, I limped towards it, only then noticing the pain in my ankle. I must've sprained it when I landed out of the portal. Great.

Grumbling to myself, I began to push on the huge piece of wood, hoping to open it. And I did, but with much effort and two minutes of my time wasted. Breathing heavily, I stared out in shock at the scenery.

I was in some sort of huge house. Was I teleported to Giants land? That… wasn't ideal but they're normally well acquainted with Humans, we both help each other a lot. Many other races besides us too. This wasn't really that big of a problem, I can just teleport myself back.

Focussing energy into my hands, I tried to tear open a portal. Except it didn't work. Huh… my body must be tired. Shrugging, I reached into my bag and pulled out a rope. I tied my dagger to it, then bent down and jammed it into the wood.

Hopefully this will stay.

I climbed down the rope slowly and carefully so I didn't fall. As I did, I took this as an opportunity to look around. Various types of jars and vials decorated shelves, along with dead animal parts. Normally Giants weren't ones to keep dead things. This one must be a mage or alchemist of some sort. Not uncommon. I'd only really be scared if they were a Witcher. That would be terrifying.

When I landed onto the counter below me, I tugged on the rope a few times until the dagger detached itself from the wood, then I caught it before it could clash on the ground. Huffing, I slowly walked across the counter, being careful of my sprained ankle. Hopefully they could help me with this too.

I travelled around the desk for thirty minutes, becoming more uneasy at each new thing I came across. Jars of dead animal heads were scattered everywhere, and drawings of creatures I'd never seen before were scattered amongst. Giants were to live peaceful lives and heard animals, like farmers, not encounter monstrosities like these.

This… I couldn't possibly be in a Witchers house.

Low thumping from afar caught my attention and I immediately ran towards the back of the table I was currently on. My ankle surged in pain but that wasn't my concern right now. I hid behind a stack of books, waiting.

The thumping got closer and eventually the sound of a heavy door creaking open caught my ears. My hairs stood up and my pulse spiked in fear.

Deep and heavy breathing got louder until the door to the room I was in got swung open. I flinched back, peeking around books.

Oh fuck. It was a Witcher.

He stood tall and blood stained his cheek, but he didn't pay attention to it. Instead, his eyes were locked onto the cabinet door I left wide open when I first woke up. His eyes stared at it, glowing bright yellow in confusion. He walked over to it, long black hair swishing back and forth as he walked.

Fuck— he'll most likely think a rat did that right? I'm sure he gets many of those, considering all the stuff he has laying about. It's surely not uncommon—

He breathed in, eyes closing as he took in my smell. His posture tensed and a scowl formed on his face.

I am so dead. This is what the Witch meant.

When he turned around his eyes scanned over all of the surfaces, meaning he was looking for me. I stayed still, not breathing as he went over to various counters and shelves, moving things around, and not saying anything the entire time.

I need to get out of here.

Gaining a small amount of courage, I slowly got to my feet, crouching away from the books. He didn't seem to hear me as I shuffled to the back of the table. I then quietly jammed my knife into the wood and threw the rope down. Watching the Witcher as I moved, I slowly and carefully slid down the rope, desperately not wanting to get his attention. Luckily for me, he was too preoccupied on the other side of the room.

As I made it halfway down the rope his legs moved closer to where I was and my breath hitched. Continuing my way down, I took as few breaths as I could so he wouldn't hear me. He took in another quiet sniff, now knowing the general area I was in. Silently but now quickly I made my way down the rope, pausing as I got to the end of it. I was a few feet off the floor and it would be hard to pull out the knife from the wood.

When the Witcher moved again, shuffling things around, I risked it and landed on the floor with a quiet thump. And he definitely heard it.

"Little one." I shivered and tingles went up my spine as he spoke, voice deep and no emotion relevant in it.

Panicking further, I tugged on the rope, desperately wanting to pull my knife out. I saw his footsteps draw nearer, only making my fear grow. Luckily the knife was removed from the wood but it swung crazily as it descended to the ground. I put my hand up jumping to catch it, but it bounced off my fingertips and landed against the ground with a loud clash.

I'm so fucking dead.

I picked it up, sprinting away from the massive being. He easily moved the table I was under, barely missing me as I slid under a bookshelf. My arm and ankle throbbed in pain, and it almost felt broken.

"I can smell your fear." He spoke again, still with no emotion. Ignoring him, I crawled deeper under the shelf, progressing towards the next thing to shelter me.

As I was about to crawl underneath another shelf, a thick arm slammed down in front of the opening. I bit my tongue hard and drew blood as I tried not to scream. Turning back the other way, and crawling towards where I came from, a huff of air blew against me. Then a bag of some sort was dropped in front of that opening too.

"Fuck fuck fuck." I muttered, trying to think of a way out of this.

Huge hands were placed under the bookshelf, easily pulling it forward.

Searching my bag, I took out a small empty glass bottle and chucked it over the Witchers arm and to the other shelf. Hopefully he would think something fell over there, or preferably that I was over there.

When his movements stopped, I took this as my chance to scurry past the bag he dropped and sprinted away. When I got more out into the open, his head snapped towards me. We locked eyes as I kept running and he shuffled towards me, trying to stop my escape. Easily he moved everything I went under until I was eventually cornered.

We stared at each other, his bright yellow eyes piercing through me and I couldn't help but tremble. He crouched and I flinched back, pushing myself against the wall. The Witcher obviously noticed this but didn't say anything.

A scream rippled through my throat when he reached towards me. Instinctively I grabbed out my blade and shoved it into his index finger, ripping down his skin. He pulled back, taking the blade with him. A scowl came across his face and I knew I royaly fucked up.

With the little magik I had left, I created a black barrier around me making it so I could see out but nothing could see in. My injured foot was peeking out from the barrier and I couldn't pull it back in. I'd have to release the barrier, pull it in, then put it back up.

The Witcher noticed it and his good hand reached towards it.

No way, he's going to fucking break it even more.

He touched it and I screamed in pain, not even able to move it.

"Huh?" The Giant hummed in confusion. He pulled at it and I sobbed in pain but didn't release the barrier. Or I tried not to. He tugged one more time and it fell, revealing my sobbing and withering form.

"Let the fuck go!" I hissed and when he saw how twisted my ankle was compared to the other, he did. "Now get the fuck away from me!" I pulled my leg into myself, crying in pain.

"You're hurt." He obviously stated.

"Yeah no fucking shit! Now— go so I can teleport away!"

"And how will you manage that?" His face became bored and unimpressed. "You can't stand and after that little barrier stunt you pulled, you obviously have nothing left."

"Shut up—"

"Sleep." He blew something into my face making me cough.

It was some sort of sleeping spell.

I whimpered and tried to crawl away from the Giant. Holding my satchel close, I fell into the spell, hoping I'd die rather than wake up.

Something nudged my arm and I ignored it, shifting onto my side. A stray dog probably got into my cabin again. Whatever.

It nudged my back this time and I promptly ignored it again.

"Wake up." A deep voice gumbled, flinching me awake. I jolted up, turning around in confusion. My vision blurred as I tried to get up and see who was in my cabin. My breathing quickened when my vision didn't clear.

"Wh— who— what's…" my speech slurred together.

"Shhh," the voice reassured me. "Open your mouth." Something was pressed against my lips but I shoved it away, not knowing what it was or who was talking to me.

"N-No," I turned away and scooted back. "Mmnf," A whine left me as something warm surrounded my shivering body. "Stop… leave me…" I felt so sick and weak. It sucked.

Something was pressed against my lips and at first I tried to get away from it. But the smell of potatoes and pork filled my nose and I couldn't help but eagerly gulp it down. It seemed like I hadn't eaten in days and I didn't know why.

When the food was pulled away I whined again, wanting more of it. Thankfully my vision mostly cleared which allowed me to take in my surroundings.

“Where am I— wuz happenin?” I groaned, trying to figure out what exactly I was looking at. I was laying on a large table of some sort and my arm and ankle were bandaged up. “Wait I need to go to the farmers and tell him I killed the Witch.” I began to stand up. Where’s my daggers?

“No.” a soft voice spoke. I went to protest but giant hands filled my view and a finger gently pushed me back down. My eyes stared at it, not knowing how to process such a thing. Slowly they travelled up the hand and to scar filled arms, then to broad shoulders. My breath hitched as I made eye contact with the person responsible. His bright yellow eyes observed me as he searched my form.

A—A Witcher?! A Witcher? How did I… how am… ah fuck.

I scrambled back and didn't know what to do. Bile made its way up my throat and I felt like vomiting.

The giant sighed and I flinched back desperately wanting my knives.

“You—you! You… saved me?” I asked in disbelief, not trusting him and he hummed.

“Well when someone shows up in your house, ankle practically broken and poison coursing through their body, I’d assume anyone would help them.” He grunted out, not breaking eye contact.

“Where’s my stuff?” I ignored him and got defensive. The Witcher sighed again but leaned to the left and grabbed some things. My things. When he put them in front of me I snatched them, feeling a little bit safer. “Where are my daggers?” I snapped. He studied me, obviously not trusting me with them. His mouth opened and he wanted to argue to not give them to, but he did. Not without a few words though.

When he handed them to me and I went to grab them he quickly got a hold of my arm, pulling me forward to face him straight on. My breathing stopped as he made hard eye contact with me.

“Don't stab me again,” His voice was hard and slightly threatening. My eyes darted to his now bandaged up finger, and I’d be lying if I said I didn't feel a little bad. But that doesn't mean I won't protect myself. Regardless, he released me and gave me them. My skin burned at the amount of heat he radiated. “So, little bounty hunter, how did you end up here?” his tone was a little snarky and he seemed surprised, like he didn't think I could get here by myself. Which might be true.

“Well Witcher,” I stated even more snarkily and he didn't bat an eye. “I was hunting a Witch and… she poisoned me… and sent me here.” I grumbled, not proud of myself at all. I mean how could I have been so stupid?! Well it isn't completely my fault; maybe if people didn't make up false claims that Witches were doing horrible stuff, allowing me to never believe them, I would've been more prepared! And the one time I’m not, it’s the worst of the worst! Gods, I’m so fucking pissed!

A deep chuckle caught my attention and I snapped my head back up to look at the Witcher.

“You’re one of the best Hunters out there, and you fell to a Witch?” He was making fun of me and my face heated up in anger and embarrassment.

“Well if stupid fucking people didn't make untrue claims about them, I wouldnt be here right now and I would’ve prepared,” I snapped. “And how do you know who I am?”

“Everybody knows who you are, Leoric,” My embarrassment grew when he spoke my name in such a powerful way. “Famous Bounty Hunter and Hunter. Not only did you save a Dragon, but you also defended and killed anyone who tried to kill it. You've crashed my balls and royal weddings to stop assassins—”

“Stop,” I grimaced and looked away, not wanting to know about my ‘achievements.’ They were so stupid. “You’re a Witcher and Giant, why would you know someone like me?”

“Oh? I didn't know the mighty Hunter was quick to bashfulness. And I’m not a Giant all of the time.” He leaned in and I fought the urge to draw my knife. Instinctively, I pulled up my hood, hiding my face beneath it and my hair.

“... I’m not,” I grumbled. “Go away.” His gaze was too intense and he himself was intimidating without trying. I was scared to be under his eyes.

“Hmm?” He recalled something. “If I remember correctly, not only did I save you, and also extract the poison, along with fixing your ankle, but you basically clung to me as you rested.”

I froze, not believing a word he said, he was only trying to embarrass and work me up further!

“Shut the fuck up liar,” I barked. “Why would I do that when it seemed like you wanted to kill me?”

“Who said I didn't.” the Witcher breathed next to me. My body tensed at the statement but shivered at the sound of his voice.

“I—I- you—” I stuttered.

“I’m joking.” he laughed and something poked my side.

A loud groan escaped me. “Fuck off— quit it dickhead!” He took my hood off, exposing my face which was undoubtedly blooming red. Smiling at me, the Giant laughed. “I’m leaving.” I stood and grabbed my stuff, making sure my daggers were in their respectable places and that I had everything.

“Wait,” he grabbed my arm, making me swivel around and stare up at his handsome features. His face turned stern but his voice was gentle. “Are you seriously okay? The poison the Witch put into your body was dangerous. And your ankle still doesn't look good, which is partly my fault.”

I… well now that I think about it, my ankle did hurt and it was throbbing a little. And the place where the Witch-Bitch clawed at me still burned a small amount as well but I didn’t really want to stay here. This could all be a plan to kill me— but why would he go out of his way this much just to do that. I guess it never seemed like he wanted to kill me either. Anyone would be panicked or a little pissed if something or someone they didn't know was in their home.

I peered up at the handsome Witcher, acting like I was thinking but was actually taking in his appearance. His long black hair spewed across his shoulder, and some of it covered his face, framing it in a nice way. He had small scars on his cheeks and even smaller ones on his forehead. He had a squared jaw with prominent cheekbones. He was big obviously, but his arms had hair and a lot of muscle and even more scars, his chest was broad, you could see the outline of his collarbones too.

“Tell me your name.” my voice came out quiet.

“Orion.” he was quiet too.

Orion huh.

“I… guess I could stay here a little longer,” I muttered as I looked away from him. “Now can I get some fucking food? I’m starving.”

Orion laughed greatly, throwing his head back a little. “Of course, little Hunter.”

I watched The Witcher, can you tell?

[edbydawn]

Leoric is next, and The Hanged Man

[pluralprogramming]

rambling about ocs

ocs in question: aurora and leoric (mentions of leothrall)

(preface: all characters mentioned are demons and live up to 500 years)

aurora has been through a lot. born the eldest son of a family with 6 children, he works as the kingdom of leo’s king’s head guard. his dad is a dick and, for a while his king was an abusive bitch boy (i’ll talk about leothrall later)

when leothrall is slain by his brother leoric, aurora was expecting another dick king to guard.

leoric is a very kind, open, friendly man. he constantly has gatherings anyone in his (small) kingdom can come to and meet him. he pays his staff extraordinarily well. he’s just a good guy tm.

aurora, emotionally scarred, takes time to warm up to leoric. and leoric is very patient with him. he never forces him to talk, but always makes himself available. over time, aurora becomes more confident in him. they become friends, but aurora realizes something.

he has fallen in love with the king.

the king is married.

aurora hides his feelings for 150 years of loyal service and is the first to offer support to leoric when his wife, currently unnamed, dies of a strange illness.

leoric recovers from his wife’s death fairly well and has taken up magic as a hobby, teaching aurora small spells when he has time. aurora’s feelings are stronger than ever.

at a meeting with a foreign king, leoric is asked if he plans to take another wife.

“oh, not a wife, but a husband, i have someone in mind.”

and aurora is intrigued, though he believes the “someone” is an unnamed nobleman.

things go on and aurora gets depressed and drinks some of leoric’s wine. (he had permission to) he gets drunk...on succubus wine, a wine brewed from lust demon...fluids that greatly raises the libido.

aurora goes to leoric hours into the effects, completely desperate. leoric states he once got drunk on it and his wife cured him. aurora asks for him to cure him. leoric explains he’d be happy to - but please remember what context this is, aurora.

they exchange admittance of feelings and, well, leoric cures him.

aurora wakes up in his own bed. was it a dream? a realistic fantasy? he looks in his bathroom mirror. is that...a hickey? oh, so it was real???

and then they have a happy king/guard relationship kept in secret.

[a-dark-starred-universe]

My bestie and I's OCs hanging out

Shout out to @dizzyowl for their OC, Leoric c:

[sinnabee]

ITS ONE OF MY GIRLS. This is a lovely human rogue, formerly named Anna, now named Luewyn by her adopted elf brother, Leoric. (They named each other :D) Her dreams consist of one day opening her own bakery, getting a cute girlfriend, and finding her brother a nice boy to settle down with or at the very least get him to stop being so dumb all the time

[schibi12]

🏵️,🌷, and🍀

🏵 which OC have you had the longest, what inspired them?

Ok so this might get long while I set up some context

I would say my first OC would be this high fantasy Game of Thrones/Minecraft Diaries world I have been building while daydreaming in the bus on my way school since I was in middle school and it had this group of rag tag heroes trying to defeat the corrupt king who usurp the throne and they are travelling across the land trying to get allies for the upcoming war/rebellion.

It followed 2 groups of characters

The first one had the goal to kill the king since they all had a personal vendetta against them like destroying their village, killing their parents or ruining their house's name (house as in elite family like game of thrones) and all come come from houses, formal training and well they are kinda privileged and don't know how the people have truly suffered under the corrupt king

🌷 is there a lesson for the readers in your WIP?

The second group are from small villages honest working folk and they have seen first hand the horrors that the king has done so they traverse across the land trying to build an alliance with the other villages so that they can bring down the king.

And the 2 groups do meet up in their travels and joined forces I don't remember some of the characters name but they had a disgraced knight, a rogue who is also the dragorne (the chosen one to protect the dragon race who is given the ability to turn into a dragon), a pair of siblings one who is a witch Annora and the other a guard Leoric and that's the first group, the second group is a woman trying to become a knight, an archer Arne , an orphan werewolf Riane and a man with demon blood Caleb.

We also follow the king and their children who he uses in their conquest and puts a lot of pressure and expectations on them causing some internal conflict between the siblings and well some of the siblings go to the good side.

And I'm gonna leave it here cause this world gets lore heavy and extensive.

I honestly don't know I just write a story and if you find a lesson or a message in it well that's cool.

🍀 which OCs would get along the best?

Addison and Tulip strangely they have some story parallels plus their theatre kid energy would just make them pals.

Thanks for the ask!

[cornelthecursed-tester]

// I know that not many people care - the rp community on here is slowly but surely dwindling but I thought I'd introduce Cor's best friend, since he holds a rather substantial significance in his life.

Leoric - the goofy two thousand year old vampire viking. His mouth tends to be faster than his brain - lives in the moment and is extremely extroverted. A complete difference to Cor but I think they compliment each other in a way. Leo tends to be the one who listens to orders from Cor if any arise and acts as an advisor to him. THOUGH don't let that look fool you! He can become a deadly force. He is far better close combatant than Cor ever could be, the term berserker didn't come from nothing.

Yes I know Leoric isn't really a nordic name, but bear with me! He has forgotten his own name after so many years and generally goes by what his enemies and soldiers-in-arms call him by. He resembles a lion and so Leoric is apt.

Alright, ramble over. I did put him here and am debating whether to have him as a roleplay option, but I'm still not that comfortable in writing him. You might see him interact with Cor and at times with your character as well, but not as a main OC! Any questions to further develop his character (or Cor's for that matter!) are welcome!

Peace out- mun

[stonebreakerseries]

Day 5: Beloved + “Unacceptable, try again.”

Another piece for @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober, also incorporating the Day 5 #Fictober20 prompt. This one was, ah... a fair bit harder to merge. But I did my best!

This piece is set about 10 years prior to the events in Stonebreaker, focusing on the aftermath of the War of Chains (I might include it as a flashback or an interlude between parts - I have yet to decide).

                       -------------------------------------------------------

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Character(s): Dassian Varo, Alessia Torvul, Faldoran Crestus, Hemlan.

                       ---------------------------------------------------------

The pale stone walls of the war room seemed too bright that morning. Garish, pristine, uncompromising. Perhaps it was fitting, given the group that currently crowded around the replica map. The undulating landscape of central Peiora was crafted with minute and painstaking detail, spanning from Talvera all the way to the Bleakwood. It used to be the map that encompassed all of the Allied Kingdoms. Now Valcreta, the City of Artifice, stood like a stain at the southwestern corner. A reminder of their failure.

Breathing out, Dassian Varo, War King of Signea, High King of the Allied Kingdoms, found himself staring at that spot. One of the mapmakers had painted the area gold, the colour used to denote Khathi Empire territory. It was recently done; the paint was still tacky, its damp gleam visible in the mid-morning light.

Where had we gone so wrong?

Of course, Dassian knew. He knew when the decree had been passed, though he had been too much of a fool to admit it. The idea of it - freedom for the bondsmen throughout the Allied Kingdoms - had been something he had supported for years. Decades, even, though perhaps he had been less vocal in his youth. Less self-assured. Less powerful. 

Divider’s Own, what he would give, now, for even half the confidence he used to have.

Deep down, Dassian had known it wasn’t truly about freedom. It never had been. But his doubts at the time had simply been outweighed by his belief that, sometimes, intentions didn’t matter. What mattered was the result. It was hard to imagine that any man or woman, when freed from their chains, would care about whether it was done for the ‘right’ reason. All that mattered was that it had happened. Their lives were now their own, to do with as they pleased.

Or, at least, that had been the ideal, sold to them just under two years ago. It had been the start of Felling, when High King Leoric had called a meeting of the rulers. He remembered it vividly - the trees had just started to change, soft leaves turning crisp, red bleeding into green... 

“Your Majesty?”

Stirring, Dassian blinked and tore his gaze from the map. Crowded around the table stood his closest advisors. They were the only people, so soon after ascending to the throne, that he was willing to trust.

To his right stood Faldoran Crestus, his well-cared sword eternally strapped to his side. Dressed in a thick doublet, the courtly attire was barely able to contain his powerful form; an incongruity that only emphasised the man’s obvious discomfort. Recently promoted to Marshal, he was now expected to attend all meetings pertaining to Signea and her defense - a fact that, upon its discovery, had twisted his scarred face into a perpetual frown. They did not always agree on matters, but Faldoran was the only man Dassian could have chosen for such a vital position. The only man he trusted to replace him. 

Next to Faldoran, a wooden writing board resting along her forearm, was Alessia Torvul, the former king’s Cipher. The woman, with pale Talveran skin and copper hair, was a handful of years his senior, and carried each of them with pride. She met Dassian’s gaze without a moment’s hesitation, green eyes calm. Knowing. Encouraging. Most had assumed he would not trust her, given her proximity to King Leoric and his family. They had assumed he would petition other Cipher families for a replacement. 

They had assumed wrong. 

Finally, a short man stood on Dassian’s left, his brown hair thinning, his stomach straining against a dark leather belt. As though sensing Dassian’s thoughts on him, he cleared his throat. “Ah, if you please, your Majesty. With Valcreta being... u-um… well, I how should I put this---”

---“Unacceptable,” Dassian snapped, dark eyes flashing dangerously as they cut across to the man. “Try again.” 

Hemlan stiffened, mouth dropping open in shock. Dassian had expected that response from him. He’d always been spineless. But Alessia’s frown, scalding him with disapproval from halfway across the room, was his cue that he had genuinely misstepped. 

Stop it. You need these people on your side. All of them.

Sighing, Dassian leaned forward, pressing his hands to the lacquered edge of the table. “I apologise, Hemlan. Please, just... say what you mean.” Divider, he was tired. It didn’t seem to matter how much he slept. Not that he slept well, alone in a room large enough to house an entire platoon. “King Leoric may have ruled by platitudes, but I have no patience for them.”

Even as the words left his lips, Dassian winced, wishing he could take them back. There he went again. It was never wise to disparage a fallen monarch; certainly not before his funeral had even taken place. This meeting was a mistake. He should have waited another day. Divider, he was almost too exhausted to even feel ashamed of himself. 

Almost. 

“This has been… a trying campaign, your Majesty. A few improprieties behind closed doors are to be expected.” To his surprise, the timidity in Hemlan’s voice had all but vanished, even after the undeserved reprimand. By the time Dassian looked back at the man, his entire demeanour had already shifted. He stood straighter now, pale gaze regarding the map, the thumb of his right hand hooked into his belt. Bemused, Dassian sent a questioning look to Alessia, who simply shrugged, a faint smile tinging her lips. 

I see. 

He’d always wondered how a man like Hemlan had found his way into a position as coveted as Court Advisor. In truth, he was only even present at Alessia’s insistence. Whenever he had spoken to Hemlan in the past, the man had been a stuttering mess, barely making eye contact, frustrating him with his sweating and apologising and bumbling until…

Dassian froze.

… until he had told Hemlan whatever he wanted to know, just to make him leave.

“If I may,” Hemlan continued, tugging Dassian from his quiet revelation, “it is important that we discuss the potential of a Khathi assault. With Valcreta now a viable waypoint for their army and their knowledge of our weakened forces, the threat is greater now than it has been since the conception of the Allied Kingdoms.”

The Allied Kingdoms. Their formation had been a defensive maneuver, spurred by King Leoric at the beginning of this reign. That had to have been, what… twenty years ago? More?

Where had the time gone?

“Have the armies patrol the western border,” Dassian said. “I trust we still have the numbers for that?”

Faldoran nodded, arms folded, the heavy shelf of his brow almost casting a shadow over his eyes. “We do. But I wouldn’t waste any soldiers down by Tel Shival.” He leaned forward, tapping a gloved finger on the swath of blue directly east of their current location. “The Pale’s still swollen from the thaw up north, so all those feeders running into the marsh will be full to bursting.” He shook his head, straightening. “No - there’s no fear of an army getting through that way. Not at this time of year.”

It was true enough. Even their own army had been forced to swing north, bypassing the Crossroads, adding a full two-turns to their journey. In any other circumstance, ten days would have felt like nothing. But among exhausted soldiers, wounded, hungry, battle-worn…

Alessia shifted her footing. “If I may? It would still be beneficial to build more outposts along the southern outskirts. If nothing else, we will find ourselves better positioned once the weather changes.” She glanced at Faldoran, who just grunted, then returned her attention to Dassian. “If we cannot spare soldiers for the task, I imagine there are a number among the recently liberated seeking paid work.”

“Yes. Good. See it done.” As Dassian replied, he noticed that Alessia was actually transcribing the discussion, her quill scratching away over the parchment with her usual ruthless efficiency. Of course. This is all official, now. 

However, more importantly, Alessia had raised a valid point. In Dassian’s opinion - one he shared with many - the handling of the bondsmen had been one of Leoric’s greatest failings. Of all the kingdoms who had implemented the decree, the High King himself had taken the most indolent approach. He had simply declared the owning and trading of bondsmen a criminal offense, signed a few papers, and considered the matter resolved. Even back then, he had already been fixated on the war with Valcreta - the war he knew was coming. He’d lost sight of his own citizens at the very moment they needed him most.

Of course, many of the former bondsmen were resourceful. Some grouped together, forming their own communities in the kingdom’s outskirts. Some stayed put, joining the more welcoming towns and cities where they had grown up or lived out a good portion of their lives. Some returned to their homelands, seeking families that may or may not still be waiting for them. But others? Others struggled, without property, without work, without support, cut off from their pasts, uncertain of the futures. 

The rest just left Signea entirely, once they realised the extent to which the King had forgotten them. 

To some, High King Leoric was beloved. To others, his shortcomings were simply too great and too many to overlook. Dassian had yet to decide in which camp he intended to raise his own flag.

Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and drew a deep, slow breath. He could feel the concerned gazes of his closed council on him, but chose to ignore them for the moment, collecting himself, gathering his thoughts. After all, Alessia and Faldoran had seen him in far worse states than this - recently, too. 

And Hemlan? 

Well, Hemlan seemed willing and able to adapt to whatever he needed, whenever he needed it. He had yet to decide if that was incredibly useful, or incredibly terrifying.

“Tell me,” Dassian said suddenly, “what are the people saying?”

At first, silence met his question. Alessia shifted, rolling back her shoulders, but seemed hesitant to respond. Even Faldoran somehow managed to look even more uncomfortable, his mouth drawn into a tense line.

That left Hemlan.

“It is… mixed, your Majesty,” the portly man began, clasping his hands behind his back. He kept his blue eyes fixed on the map, as though he somehow knew the last thing Dassian wanted was his scrutiny. “The sudden retreat from Valcreta was a surprise to many. Soldiers, common folk, and nobility alike.”

“Damn right it was,” Faldoran agreed, crossing his arms. “Had my work cut out for me, explaining that one to the soldiers. Reckon I got through to most of the ones that mattered, but…” He shrugged. “There’s always going to be mutterings. Just the way it goes.”

Dassian nodded stiffly. Of course he knew that. But still, somehow, he just wished he could make them see. Make them understand that it had to be done. 

“Some call you a hero,” Hemlan continued, unfazed by the interruption. “Being named War King on the field of battle gained you favour among the more military-minded, as well as a number of noble families. But, as with all things, even the most valuable coin has two sides. Others call you a coward, some even going so far as to raise questions about the legitimacy of your ascension.”

“What?” Dassian stood up straight at that, alarmed. Not at the accusations of cowardice - he had expected those. Prepared for them. But the idea that he had somehow cheated his way to the throne? “There were witnesses present - several, high and low ranking alike. They have all made statements. On what grounds are they questioning it?”

“Unfounded grounds, your Majesty,” Hemlan replied quickly. “I apologise if I caused undue alarm. The accusations are not enough to pose any real threat, nor are they bold enough to outright denounce you...” He paused. Looking up, Hemlan studied Dassian’s face for a moment, gauging something. Then, he sucked in a breath, and added, “... yet. Right now, the war is still fresh, as is the memory of your coronation. It is important we continue to monitor these rumours, but at present, that is all they are.”

A cold feeling settled at the center of his chest. “At present,” Dassian repeated quietly. Divider...

Expression softening, Hemlan simply nodded. “At present, your Majesty.”

“We will be vigilant,” Alessia added, voice firm. “If the talk ever becomes serious enough to threaten your life or the stability of the kingdom, we will convene and act accordingly.” 

Dassian nodded distractedly, then paused, realising something. She had stopped writing, leaving this part of their conversation off the official record. 

So it’s that much of a concern, then.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Hemlan, report to me every second turn. I don’t want to find myself blindsided by any of this.” He shifted his gaze to Faldoran. “Marshal Crestus, meet with me this evening. We will discuss the fortification of the border in more detail then. For now, you are both dismissed.”

The two men nodded and took their leave, Faldoran snapping a sharp salute, Hemlan bowing low. That left him and Alessia, standing at opposite sides of the large map. Slowly, calmly, she went about organising her affairs, capping the small vial of ink, dabbing the tip of her quill against a piece of sponge inlaid in her writing board. 

Dassian just watched her, silent, and waited for the inevitable.

“You can’t solve every problem in the kingdom on your first day, Dassian.” She glanced up, green eyes seeming to pierce right through him. They always did. “It will take many Kings - High, War, whatever you like - to fix the mistakes of the past twenty years. Even then, new ones will only rise to take their place.”

“Then what would you have me do?” he demanded. She had stood by him when so many had refused; believed him on the battlefield when his own men had started to doubt. Practically committed treason with him. He owed her more than he dared admit, but sometimes she drove him halfway mad. “Should I do nothing? Delegate my duties to others, like Leoric did? I can’t do that, Alessia. I’m not that kind of man.”

As he expected - as he feared - the Cipher just sighed. She didn’t seem disappointed. Not even angry or bitter. In fact, she almost seemed to have been expecting his exact response. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d written it down before he’d even said it. “Then it is something you will just have to learn, Dassian, whether you want to or not. That, and many other things.” She shook her head and stepped away from the map, angling towards the door. “Despite the way it is portrayed in the history books, ruling a kingdom is never done alone. The crown is a symbol. It is a kind of power, yes, but it is not absolute. You need to surround yourself with people. The right people.”

She began to walk out, shoes whispering over the floor tiles. “I’m not alone,” Dassian said as she passed by him, voice low, gaze averted. “I have you, don’t I? And Faldoran. Hemlan.”

Alessia paused. Just for a breath. “You do,” she said. “But we are not enough.”

With that, she bowed and left, her floor-length dress shifting gently with each step. Soon, the War King found himself alone once more, the light streaming in through the high windows suddenly too bright. Too damning, laying bare all of his flaws. There were certainly enough of them.

Rest, he thought, leaning his weight against the table, not quite trusting his legs to hold him. I just need to rest. 

Then I can worry about fixing everything else in this damn kingdom.

[yahtzeezen]

Another then and now. Clearly I added more to the Univers family and I love every one of them. Enjoy!

[mal-likes-biscuits]

Ask Malthael & Fic Replies - Masterlist

Since I have quite a few new followers, I wanted to mention that I do track all my Askbox replies under this tag!

If you flip through the pages, all of the Ask Malthael replies are in there as well. I occasionally see people favorite a couple of them (I think because those ones appear in the tumblr search) and I usually assume no one knows there are more, due again to the terrible search. These replies aren’t considered officially canon for my series, but they can be considered tie-in or fic-of-fic.

And for your ease of search, I also present....

The Masterlist of “Ask Malthael” Content

[Below the break, because it’s getting very long.]

dO yOu liKE BisCUitS? (the original ask)

Hi Mal, What is the meaning of life?

What's it like NOT having to grow up?

About Chalad’ar

What happened to your followers? Pt. 1

What’s it like having a face?

What happened to your followers? Pt. 2

About Auriel

Just use normal swords! (a classic Mal answer)

did u lik the bred (Mal writes bad poetry)

How do you feel about how easily and how well Tyrael adjusted to mortal life by comparison?

Hello Farah, what’s your favorite book? Ask Others Pt. 1 (short fic)

Aya, what’s your favorite food? Ask Others Pt. 2 (short fic)

Lyndon, what’s the best and worst thing about working with Malthael? Ask Others Pt. 3 (short fic)

A most pressing (NSFW) query Pt. 1

Remember when Auriel defeated Imperius in a duel?

Does the name Linarian mean anything to you or Tyrael?

Do you remember when you got your first sibling?

A most pressing (NSFW) query Pt. 2

If a tree falls in the woods...

Tyrael, why is Imperius such an asshole? Ask Others Pt. 4

About Itherael

More about Auriel

The Sound of Biscuits

Malthael offers dating advice

Leah salt

Mr. Malthael can I give you a hug? (comic collab)

Kormac’s past and the Templars

Cain’s Illustrations of the Council

What Lord of Hell do you hate the most?

‘Quiet’ has a few questions for M (’That First Spark’ crossover)

Imperius - Valor or velour?

A questionable necromancer

Masterpost - Valentine’s Day Shenanigans 2019

Mephisto likes Auriel

Hugging the Angiris Council

Breaking the Pots

Dating the Archangel of Valor (short fic)

Chickens

Remember when you first saw the Worldstone?

Why is Imperius in the cathedral stained-glass?

How is Lyndon doing? (D:AA related)

Please tell Auriel that she is wonderful (D:AA related)

A fluffy inquiry

A fluffy reply & conclusion

Tell us something silly Tyrael did

How is Farah coping with the heartache? (post-D:AA)

Do angels feel pain in their wings?

How does Imperius’ halo work?

What foods do you like?

Is there a title you prefer we call you?

Difference between the Pools of Wisdom and Library of Fate

Chalad’ar the Wine Glass

Malthael’s Dreams

What would you tell your past self?

Raisins or biscuits? (art from @oyeedraw)

About Inarius

What are the wing pauldrons for?

Sabirah is POd at Malthael

Mortal quirks (Malthael)

Mortal quirks (Tyrael and Auriel)

Have you been to Xiansai?

And what about me? (Compliments series)

Auriel

Izual

Spirit Ouija

The kids are (probably not) all right

A letter from Magius

Did Imperius ever care about his siblings?

Rumour Has It....(Ask series)

Moonwalk

Sore Loser

Cinnamon Roll (Auriel)

What do you fear...(Ask series)

Raisins

Demons doing the Naruto run

Sleeping

Raisins 2

Poor decisions

Losing control of Death

Yourself

Do you have all your wisdom teeth?

Static nature of angels vs. variability of humans

Do Malthael and Tyrael have BDE?

Have you looked at the Book of Adria?

What do you think of the Necromancers?

Muffy needs dating advice

How do you keep a Wisdom angel happy?

Is love sickness real?

Gullible sisters talking to strangers (w/@oyee)

A D3 AU idea for Leoric

Wanted: the Chalice of Resurrection

Mal’s bath preferences

The Masterlist of Ask-related Fics & Fic Prompt Responses

About Music

"Help me I’m stuck” (Mal & Lyndon)

“Don’t leave...please” (Zaira & Osseus)

“Did you just flick me?” (Lyndon, Eirena, & Kormac)

“You’re worth it” (Farah & Mal)

“Could you hold my hand?” (Auriel, Tyrael, & Mal)

What are your favorite things about Farah? (Lyndon & Mal)

A delectable delivery (Tyrael & Mal)

A pair of (wiseass) pants Pt. 1

The Lesser Aspects of Mortaling (Pt.1-6, Epilogue) (Mal & Farah)

The Cow Level does not exist (Lyndon & Mal)

A thank you from Chialnoth (Mal & Farah)

RP Ask Threads

The easiest way to find these is to search for the @ user tagged below on my blog.

@macabrecabra 

Magtherius/fledgling!Malthael

The Quilt Adventure (teen!Malthael)

Trouble Comes Home (In Time This Too Shall Pass shenanigans)

Flight of the Bumblebee (teen!Imperius and Bulnthael) (in-progress)

@fluffy-angels 

fluffy!Inarius takes Mal on a fluffy adventure of doom

Mal visits the fluff again (hiatus)

The Pants Incident (Rathma and Kalan) (in-progress)

@oyeedraw

Bad wine decisions (Ira, Raamiel, Askblog!Malthael) (in-progress)

@bigbrotherolivier​

The cat and Sabirah (hiatus)

The Masterlist of Headcanons

Imperius (4 headcanons)

Eirena (4 headcanons)

Tyrael (4 headcanons)

Malthael & Tyrael Canon-based Headcannons

Itherael & Auriel Canon-based Headcannons

Malthael & Obsessions

headcanon - Imperius

headcanon - Farah

Who gets lost easy? (OC)

Who likes rock music? (OC)

Why do lady angels have breasts? Or at least breast shapes in their armor? (Also about quantum angels)

Random character headcanons series:

Itherael (whistling)

Imperius (crafting Solarion)

Auriel (mom)

Eirena (magic tricks)

Lyndon (swimming)

Inarius (Whimsyshire)

Urzael (fighting style)

Malthael and blood

What’s in your character’s pockets? (Farah)

[thunder-thighs-sfw]

These two guys... lemme tell ya.

These two are like my two OC’s. I have an OC that is half Orc half Ogre just like Rexxar. Imagine female Rexxar. I can’t wait to model her out and show her off. Only way Leoric is like my other OC Thunder Thighs is pretty much only because of body type. 

Rexxar

This game I just got finished with on Rexxar. OMG, so good. Misha is such a good girl! She did SO much work. She completely devastated enemy team, stole camps, soloed bosses and everything. I picked up this talent at level 4:

And since I didn’t die, I had a MASSIVE pull of health by the end of this game. Misha and I were so tanky! I havn’t played Rexxar in a while but my micro management on Misha was so fucking good. I felt like I controlled the whole battle field.  Love default skin with Horde banner the best, and I love MISHA!  <3

Leoric

He’s always fun. He’s a tank and a tank buster all in one. Just received a rework as well. I tried to take a GIF of the MVP screen because the Banner goes so well with his skin! Somehow it turned out like this though...

I’m not mad. Is that... is that blood!?

[a-dark-starred-universe]

Extremely old and outdated sketch of my bestie's OC, Leoric. I love him so much omg.

Shout out to @dizzyowl for such a cool OC