Going back and watching every episode of c4 and I get that people love a good ship romantically with other characters. But every character this campaign is in various states of fight flight or freeze and thats the last thing they need. I in fact ship them all with a good night's rest. The only ship right now is hal and thaisia cause they infact never stopped loving eachother.
I have to say, Lord Occtis Tachonis has an incredible aesthetic. This style is so new to me but I had the best time drawing it! (Round of applause for the 1-2-THREE RIBCAGES I HAVE LEARNED TO DRAW, pls 💀).
Part 1/14 of my @critical_role Campaign 4 series! Inspired by the Dragon Age tarot cards. Occtis has been an absolute delight this campaign I totally get why he’s a fan favorite. 🖤💜💚
Now, I’m not following the official tarot decks, but for funsies which Major Arcana do you reckon he’d be?
When you meet Edward Elric he gives off the impression that he's the short-tempered hot-headed "violence is the answer to all life's questions" kind of protagonist, and it's in fact incredible character craft that he's actually the character who ends the series with a negative-3 kill count.
God's worst soldier Edward Elric. Showed up as the youngest member of the Amestrian army, took millions of dollars from them, never followed a single order, helped dismantle their fascist regime, left with a lower kill count than he arrived with, then fucked off to go be a house-husband. Character of all time.
You know, when you said "negative-3 kill count," I, who haven't seen the anime, thought, "He resurrected 3 people?????" But I'm seeing here on the wiki that apparently resurrection in this anime is a terrible idea.
one of my favorite things about campaign 4 is the un/intentional allegory of dol-makjar, a city of orcs who can see in the dark because of darkvision, getting overtaken by humans who "wield the light" and have absolutely no darkvision. and it got really hammered down in episode 31 when the sons of the dawn and the grey tower guard were surrounded by magpie orcs and the wind snuffed out all the lights.
Welcome to our fair city. I hope that you enjoy your stay.
absolute fucking banger. i'll be forever thankful that brennan made araman and campaign 4 as a love letter to the orcs of lotr, the first and greatest victims of sauron.
Peeling off the broken breastplate of a stoic knight who only fights and never speaks, just to realize there’s nothing in there. Not metaphorically—the armor is literally empty. It doesn’t appear to affect him. If the armor stays mostly in the shape of a knight, he just gets back up to keep fighting. But with the chest plate off he just sits there, equally impervious to curiosity as I reach up into the cavity where his body might’ve gone. Stubbornly, no answers are found anywhere in there.
So I forge him a new breastplate and on the inside, because I know he has plenty of room, I put a little pocket. Not big enough to hold anything functional of course. Just a little extra piece to see what he’ll do with it.
He comes back next time with some grievous injury to his nothing, presumably from the massive shredded gash across his thigh plates. He sits and waits. I fix it for him. He is still nothing in there. I decide to add a drawing on the inside, of the type of beast I imagine could rend metal into scraps with a single blow. He puts it back on. He no longer moves as if he is injured.
Over time the interior of the knight becomes decorated with whatever odds and ends I could think to attach to the inside of a guy who’s got room to carry it. What really gets me is that he never removes any of it. Never requests a change. Not even when I installed a curtain rod for a small tapestry, or a bud vase to carry roses for his beloved, or an accordion folder for letters. He didn’t say a word for any of the many, many drawings of mythical beasts that now fight forever inside of his shell.
There are plenty of other forges. I’m not entirely sure why he keeps coming back here anyway. We’re pretty popular, but he could get his armor fixed a lot quicker (and with fewer ridiculous modifications) literally anywhere else. I asked him if I could get a look at his nothing again. He flipped up his visor and nodded his head so I could take a look. It was the same as it had been, filled with drawings and trinkets and weird little fixtures I’d put in there. I asked if he was annoyed by it, or liked it, or felt anything at all, but he literally only ever says nothing, so I’m not sure why I asked.
There’s not much room left in his nothing now. When he comes back for repairs I’ve had to fix my own foolish additions. Some of these pieces are intricate and irritating to repair, but I fix them anyway. It feels wrong to take any of it away from him now, even though I’ve been rudely encroaching on his nothingness to the point where it’s barely even there. How he squeezes his nothing back into a body so full, I’ll never understand. But it’s a game to me now, finding a spot not yet filled and putting something there. A dark part of me wonders if he ever gets filled up completely, if whatever sorcery holds the nothing-knight together may break, and it will all clatter unceremoniously to the floor.
When he hands me his breastplate yet again, it is so shockingly disfigured that I wonder if being made of nothing has somehow kept him alive. No ordinary knight could sustain such injuries. So I fix it. And he waits, unmoving, in a quiet corner of the forge. It’s like he’s watching, even though I know the reading glasses I put inside his helmet were just for fun. I’m careful to put it all back exactly the way it was when he last left. There’s no room to add more this time.
He examines the breastplate, and pauses before putting it back on, like he’s looking for something. Is he worried about the fit? But it suits him just as it always did. He calmly points to a little space, about an inch, between a miniature shelf and one of many pockets. There’s nothing there. I ask him what’s wrong, and again he points. It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him, and it’s barely anything at all. I take it to mean he wants something there.
I spend some time engraving a little snail in the gap. He watches, as much as nothing can watch. When I’m finished he holds the breastplate, but he doesn’t put it on right away. I ask him if something’s still wrong. He says nothing, and puts it on. I tell him I can’t add anything else. Even if he could ask, there’s no room left.
Next time he comes back, there’s nothing wrong with his armor—he lets me check to make sure. I ask him what he’s doing here. Out from one of many pockets, he retrieves a tiny rusted knife. It’s in miserable condition, barely worth saving. I tell him I could make him a nice new one, but I’ll fix it if he likes. He puts it away and reaches around to find something else, a needle and thread. Better condition, but I’m not a sewist and I tell him as much. He puts them away. He then retrieves a little twisted piece of wax paper. I open it. It’s candy. I ask if I can eat it. He says nothing. I eat it. It’s flavored with cinnamon. I’m surprised he let me take it.
He keeps bringing me candy now. His armor is the most laborious to repair out of every client my forge serves, but it’s my own fault so I can’t complain. Sometimes he keeps me company while I work. I wonder if he is trying to tell me something when he hands me mints. I wonder again at the lemon lozenges. He stares at me when I eat, as much as nothing can stare.
One day he brings me a little jar of honey. I thank him, I tell him I’ll save it for dinner. He watches me work, he puts his repaired armor back on, and he stays. My shift passes slowly, and when I finally pack up to leave it’s dark outside. He follows me out of the forge. I ask him where he’s going. He points to the jar in my hand. I ask him if he wants to watch me eat it. He says nothing, but the nothing-knight clearly wants something, so I open the lid and dunk my finger in the honey. I try not to get any on my chin. He stands there, inches away, watching me try to consume this jar of honey without a utensil. It tastes like clovers. About half the jar is left when I’ve finally had enough of pretending to be a bear, but he doesn’t move to leave.
I ask if he’s going to follow me home. He says nothing. I tell him he can if he wants to. Again, nothing. I start walking, and he follows at my side. I know he’s not going to say anything ever, so I fill the silence. I tell him I’m grateful for the sweets, I tell him about how his various components are made, I tell him I’ve never met anyone made of nothing before. I tell him it’s a rare opportunity for a smith to work so much on the inside of something. He says nothing. I tell him again how much I like the candy.
It occurs to me that maybe filling me with sugar is as close as he can get to filling someone else’s empty armor with trinkets. I’m not sure if that’s really why he does it. I tell him I don’t have room to be filled with anything on the inside, not like him. I’m not a container for much besides food. He offers me another piece of candy. Maybe he likes containing something, the way I like to feel full. Maybe it’s nothing at all.
—
I didn’t edit this even a little bit. Thanks for reading!
Damn, the confirmation from Mara that the plan always had been for Thjazi to escape. Mara was meant to be in the Tenebral Reaches and Thjazi was meant to escape, and it was only because she wasn't that Thjazi realised he had to let the execution take place and let himself be killed.
He said, "Not you, anyone but you" when he saw Azune was the Arcane Marshal assigned to scan him, so he realised what position this would put him in. He knew Azune would immediately be arrested if he escaped. But - he only realised he had to actually die when he saw Mara. So there were a few minutes in there - standing on that stage, joking around with his brother over their lunch plans - that he was fully prepared to snap the glyph and put Azune in the noose instead.
So don't worry, Azune! Thjazi didn't let himself be killed just to save you! He was ready for you to die in his place from the moment he realised it was going to be you doing the scan!
is anyone else gonna talk about Julien rubbing Occtis' back to comfort him after seeing the death of Hannan and the threatening of Trimus? is anyone else gonna point out how Occtis, to comfort himself, has a hand over his heart the same way most people would have one over their stomach when nauseous, but because Occtis doesn't get nauseous and is instead feeling the remnants of fear in his boy, he is then clutching his heart instead??? IS ANYONE GONNA TALK ABOUT HOW TOUCHY-FEELY THESE BOYS HAVE BEEN AFTER THEIR ARGUMENT?? AFTER ALLEGEDLY DECIDED THAT THEY DONT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT EACH OTHER??? AFTER SAYING THEY WANT TO STOP PRETENDING TO CARE??????
All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning
Not enough people are talking about the fact that Occtis was one CON save away from being completely destroyed after the Stone of Nightsong was smashed. Once more, we praise Alex's warlockian dice luck for the high roll BUT HE WAS ONE BAD ROLL AWAY FROM DYING INSTANTLY.
I am going to be fiending for the new tension that exists between him and Vaelus now going forward.
occtis and julien will out loud confirm 'we don't care about each other' and then proceed to care about each other's survival. this too is the seekers bond.
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