#rogier elden ring

[charmre]

Salt in my lungs, Holding my breath Making peace with my inevitable death I guess I did alright considering Tried to be a halfway decent friend Wound up a bad comedian An honest fool with more bad habits Than you can count

[technomancer-01]

🧙 On the Nature of Tarnished Souls || Rogier🧙

“This place is bristling with Tarnished hunters, you know. They sacrifice our kind, for grafting. Not exactly a place I'd stroll into without a purpose in mind...”

.

Rogier isn’t actually a witch but he does have a witch hat! 🧙

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Etsy

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[fortnitejotaroballs]

little fool

[palebloodcvrse]

PSA/friendly reminder to everyone that rogier doesnt have pasty pale skin so pls stop fucking drawing him with it

I know the game's lighting whitewashes him but that doesnt mean you have to either. I make pale af characters and their skin starts glowing awkwardly in the roundtable hold

Im not calling anyone a racist or nuthin cause im p sure most people just dont know. I blame the lighting for it.

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

By the Grace Of [Sorcerer Rogier x Fem!Tarnished] - Chapter Four

Summary: Delia finds an opportunity to get some answers, and to get some rest. She also gets a warning she’s not like to forget.

Author’s Notes: 900 words this time. Hell yeah. Lots more game dialogue this time, as Delia gets educated. This chapter features a notorious set of lines about “long before” and “soon” (iykyk). Honestly, I don’t find it to be as contradictory as most people do, but I added three words that I feel give the timeline clarity.

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

Warnings: none? Unedited (basically)

“The misshapen corpse under Stormveil?”

He stared at her.

Not at her- through her. She worried that she might have overstepped. That he might not answer.

“That is a sacred relic,” he began slowly. “Of the black knives plot. As that famed night of assassination is known. It happened during the Golden Age of the Erdtree, long before the shattering of the Elden Ring. Someone stole a fragment of the Rune of Death from Maliketh, the Black Blade. And on a bitter night some time later, murdered Godwyn the Golden.”

Delia sucked in a sharp breath. “Marika’s favorite child?”

Rogier nodded. “That was the first recorded death of a demigod in all history.”

“Marika must have been out of her mind with grief,” murmured Delia. Rogier was watching her with an interesting expression. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“She was. Though most don’t seem to consider that.”

Delia shrugged. “It’s a horrible thing.”

“Indeed it was. And it became the catalyst. Soon, in Marika’s grief, the Elden Ring was smashed. And thus sprang forth the war known as the Shattering.”

“The war in which the rest of Marika’s children fought over the pieces? Of the Elden Ring?”

Rogier offered a tiny smile. “You’re a quick study.”

“You’re a good teacher,” returned Delia. She smiled when his face flushed. “How do you know all this?”

“I once wished to become a scholar, you see. I've spent many an hour scouring the archives for knowledge of that fateful plot.” He reached for her, taking her hand in his. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “The world has grown crooked, and if you intend to put it to rights, you'd better understand what happened to make it this way, mm?”

She thought of D’s words to her when they’d met again in the Hold.

“I serve the Golden Order. That I might put this crooked land to rights.”

“And… that thing is to blame for the shape I'm in now…” Rogier was staring at their joined hands, a pained expression on his handsome face. Delia squeezed.

“Are you acquainted with a man named Rogier? You know, the piteous fellow hiding away on the balcony. He was a formidable spellblade, in times past. Don’t let his easy air deceive you. He was wise beyond his years, stout of heart and clear of mind.”

He looked up, a mad urgency in his eyes as he leaned toward her. He pulled her forward, over his covered legs, clutching her hands at his chest. “I urge the utmost caution. Don't disturb the corpse more than necessary…”

“No more, though. You see him now, ravaged by thorns, muttering and rambling… like he’s half dead already. I can’t stomach to watch. Take well the lesson, friend. That’ s how you end up, when seduced by Those Who Live in Death. When grace is sullied, it rots people from the inside. Breaks them.”

She could feel the roots writhing- beneath fabric or flesh, she couldn’t tell. Carefully, she leaned forward to rest her head on the sorcerer’s chest.

Rogier’s heart thundered beneath her ear. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

There was a long silence that followed. Rogier let one hand release hers, haltingly resting it on her shoulder blades.

Delia pressed closer, curling into his touch. If she’d ever been touched kindly, in her life Before, she didn’t remember it. She let her eyes drift shut, determined to take whatever he was willing to offer.

Under Rogier’s soft touch, the weight of the last weeks piled down. She felt herself tugged downward, deeper toward sleep.

He cleared his throat, startling her from her doze. “Thank you. You… have no reason to show me these kindnesses.” She leaned back to look at him. He released her, hand and shoulder, as though scalded. Some indecipherable look flitted over his features, and then he scowled. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Delia,” she said. She watched as he mouthed it to himself, as though testing the shape of it on his tongue.

“Thank you, Delia. For all of this.” He gestured to the collection of trinkets she’d brought. “You are too kind by half. I… I don’t know if I can repay you.” He seemed discomfited by the admission. That gave her the courage to capitalize on the brash idea she hadn’t been willing to entertain.

“You can,” she said quickly. She pulled herself up, reaching behind her. She pulled forward the blanket she’d brought. “You can keep watch while I sleep.”

Rogier’s eyebrows lifted. “I assure you that it’s quite safe here-”

“Please,” Delia interrupted. She realized she was wringing the blanket between her fingers when his expression softened. “It would make me feel better.”

He held his breath for what seemed an age, and then gave one short nod. “Very well, then. Will you be comfortable? There are beds, elsewhere in the Hold…”

Delia shook her head. She clambered onto the bench beside him and lay, gently lowering her head to rest on his hip, careful not to press on any roots. “Here’s fine,” she said softly.

Rogier’s arm hovered over her until she took hold of it, pulling it down to rest on her shoulder so she could clasp his hand in hers.

She couldn’t be sure whether her mind made it up, but she thought she felt him tighten his hold as she slipped into dreams.

[ghosttownmettie]

"And... that thing is to blame for the shape I'm in now... I urge the utmost caurion. Don't disturb the corpse more than neccessary..."

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

The utter heartbreak of how accurate I feel this is. I’m in love.

Rogier the sorcerer

My piece for @landszine. I'm really proud of this work, it's my favorite of last year!

[mac-tirs]

the usage of different types of english in elden ring

most human/tarnished NPCs we meet, like rogier, ansbach, and nepheli, use late modern english:

"a sorcerer, as you might have guessed. i'm looking for a little something, here in the castle. when i'm not hotfooting it from the troops, that is." - rogier, first meeting "general radahn. a pleasure to see you, after all this time. but those remains do not belong to you." - ansbach, upon summon for PCR

but older demigods like messmer, ranni, and morgott use early modern english:

"thou'rt tarnished, it seemeth. mother, wouldst thou truly lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light? yet… my purpose standeth unchanged." - messmer, pre-battle cutscene "thou needst not indulge them unduly, but they too wish to appraise thy worth. it hath been a passing long time since a newcomer entered my service, after all." - ranni, after agreeing to serve her

then there are the younger demigods, like miquella, malenia, and potentially melina, who use a later variant of modern english, similar to the tarnished NPCs we speak to:

"if we honour our part of the vow, promise me you'll be my consort. i'll make the world a gentler place." - miquella, post-PCR cutscene "the scarlet bloom flowers once more. you will witness true horror. now, rot!" - malenia, phase 2 transition cutscene

finally, the hornsent NPCs like the hornsent, hornsent grandam, and the hornsent spirits such as the one outside the whipping hut, who use late middle english similar to the english found in shakespeare's sonnets:

"fie, another? ... then, as that woman would surely say, we are in our purposes well aligned. but understand. your kind are not forgiven. the erdtree is my people's enemy. by marika long betray'd, set aflame." - hornsent, first meeting "all your resentment lingers yet... the raw stuff from which i shall surely forge a curse. upon the dastard messmer's head. upon marika's children each and all." - scorched ruins hornsent spirit

i find it interesting how different the usage of english is in the game, and i feel that it can be a hint on how to properly date an individual's occupation in the lands between/land of shadow. the hornsent, being a people much older than many in the lands between, use the most archaic version of english, while the tarnished and younger demigods use a form of english more closely related to our own in the current period. older demigods (and marika herself, as heard from melina's recounts of marika's spoken echoes) use a form of english more closely related to the period of transition from middle english to early modern english.

additionally, another interesting thing to me: mohg is almost certainly nearly the same age as morgott (since they're referred to as twins), yet he speaks a little differently compared to morgott:

"tarnished, thou'rt but a fool." - morgott, post-battle dialogue "dearest miquella. you must abide alone a while." - mohg, pre-battle cutscene

this makes me wonder if it's possible that, assuming that miquella's verbiage is indicative of his younger age in comparison to the older demigods (aka the demigods born before the marika/radagon union), miquella's charm altered mohg's perception enough to also alter his manner of speaking and carrying himself in some way. if his pursuit of finery (dressing in embroidered robes and handling himself with poise, juxtaposing his bestial growls and strength) was mainly done in an effort to fit into miquella's ideal of a consort. of course, mohg could just be as vain as he seems to be all on his own accord, but i find that it's interesting to entertain the idea that even his current state of being was due to miquella's charm.

i'd love to hear what others think about this. i'm not very learned when it comes to english (it's not really my first language), but i find this all very cool to think about.

[adrianswen32]

The pleasure's mine, Rogier's the name. A socerer, as u might have guessed.

- 是约稿

[goatgovroom]

Yippee

[kreuzwalt]

[technomancer-01]

“As a Tarnished who wishes to stand before the Elden Ring and become Elden Lord, I am accumulating knowledge. To be all-knowing.”

Insta: technomancer_01

Etsy:

[epiclad]

Hunter D and Rogier, the premiere Dungeons & Demigods party of the Lands Between. (squeezed Gostoc in there because why not)

[misty-seashore]

Finally finished this game. Its amazing designs-

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

By the Grace Of [Sorcerer Rogier x Fem!Tarnished] - Chapter Five

Summary: Rogier reflects on the life he’s led, and the choices that have gotten him where he is. It would be wonderful to let Delia in… but he can’t.

Author’s Notes: 1K words! Here’s that introspection chapter I was so excited about. Hope y’all like it as much as I do. 😉

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

Warnings: mild language, unedited (basically)

Rogier sat awake for a long time after Delia nodded off. He sat, trying to school his thoughts into some semblance of organization. He failed.

He sat, reminding himself that he needed no one and nothing. He had no need of companionship, no need of a friendship he wouldn’t be around to see through.

Delia took a deep breath and Rogier stilled his own. She stayed asleep, nuzzling her cheek closer to him.

She was warm under his arm, a stark contrast to the icy numbness spreading up from his feet.

Perhaps just this once?

He thought of D, the friendship forged in their mutual searching, only to be shattered by their respective unwillingness to be swayed from their beliefs. Thought of Fia, the rare confidence he’d entrusted to her, before she wrung from him what she needed and released him back to the void.

No.

There were reasons he’d determined not to let himself grow attached to anyone. That discipline had served him well his whole life, and proven all of his fears well founded once he’d neglected it.

And yet…

He had known, from their first meeting, that D would never- could never- change his mind. To be cast out by every association for the so-called crime of sharing his soul, something entirely out of his power- an irony that struck Rogier with equal parts humor and heartache- and then to be parted from that soul? No feat of any goddess, let alone any man, would ever prise him from his place within the Order.

And he had seen in Fia, well before they ever even spoke, the calculation veiled by a soft voice and softer touch. She’d bent her ear to his rambling of Death; to his research into blasphemous rites; to his despair at his failing life and failed life’s work. He knew when he began to speak that it benefitted her to listen, and still he’d spoken. He’d gone willingly to her bed, wise to her schemes, but unable to turn from the comfort she’d offered. He hadn’t even been angry, when she’d drawn on his life to feed her dead god. How could he be? In her, he saw every fear of himself realized.

He had known D would never come to say goodbye. He’d said his goodbyes long ago.

He had known Fia would welcome him, Blight and all, and offer compassion, no matter how shallow and self-serving.

He had known better, thought himself cleverer, and paid dearly.

He looked down at Delia’s face, propped against his waist.

He knew nothing with her.

What could she possibly stand to gain from friendship with him? She was clearly bright, but she was no scholar. He feared his company was lackluster at best, and yet she’d sought him out. There had been true anguish when she’d seen him again, not empty pity.

She’d feared for his life.

He had released her of any obligation she might have felt, paid back the debt he owed her with interest- his rapier, freely given, was worth more than any blade she’d be like to find lying around without risking her life.

He’d released her. And she’d returned anyway. Returned bearing gifts, and asking only for his presence.

He looked down at the blanket over his legs. He really had nothing left to lose.

And he was so tired.

He looked back to her sleeping face, and felt a dangerous tug of fondness.

Instinct urged him to draw back, to raise his defenses and distance himself from her reach.

Instinct urged him to brush away the lock of hair that had slipped to flutter over her parted lips.

Instinct failed to warn him that she was about to wake up.

Her eyes opened, pinning him to the spot. He held his breath as they watched each other. She blinked sleepily at him, reaching up to rub the corner of her eye.

He was caught.

“Did I wake you?” he murmured. Delia shook her head, further disheveling her hair.

“No,” she said, voice raspy. “But your thoughts are loud.”

In that moment, looking down at her, this fierce and beautiful woman with mussed hair and blurry eyes, all of Rogier’s reservations became too quiet to hear.

“I’m afraid to sleep,” he admitted. And then stiffened in horror. The words had come out so easily that he hadn’t even processed them.

Delia sat up, raising a hand to Rogier’s cheek. Her lips were parted in anticipation of a question.

And because Rogier couldn’t bear to hear what she might ask, couldn’t bear to see how much he might tell her, because he was a coward, he searched his mind for what truth he might offer her to end this line of questioning before it began.

He let himself smile his wide, false smile. “I’ve just so many thoughts to put to paper, and so little time.”

Delia’s expression turned dubious the moment he smiled at her. But it was chased by a flash of raw hurt, so quick he almost missed it, and then a careful blankness.

Rogier paused and considered what he’d said. It dawned on him with a wave of self-loathing.

“So little time,” he’d said as she’d risen from resting against him.

Damnit.

She was up before he could find a way to right this latest of his wrongs.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” she said cheerily. “Thank you for letting me stay.” She spun on her heel, shoulders back and head held high. She gave Rogier no chance to collect his thoughts enough to speak. She was gone before he could open his mouth.

Rogier couldn’t determine whether or not he liked this new habit of watching the last space she’d been. But he knew he disliked the guilt that sat with him long after she’d gone.

[p00lmaintenance]

Glintstone Sorcerer Rogier from Elden Ring. He’s literally my favorite guy. Also can’t wait for Shadow of the Erdtree