"Surely I can wear something a little less,, formal? I don't want to be seen like some haughty Imperial,, right? "
Ostia tugged a little at her furlined cloak, the dress and jewelry rustling from the motions. She felt even more out of place now, first with just being on Midgård as an Outlander, but now also wearing her formal ceremonial attire that Neomie had smuggled along their trip. Whilst on Haldia within her ancestral keep it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, even if she didn't enjoy it,, to wear it now on such foreign soil?
"Pas de tout ma cherie! I recognize that you would prefer your more,, weathered clothes, I realize this now. Sadly there is a dress code when visiting the Kungliga Palatset. Especially when His Majesty is home. Not his choice mind you, he has similar preferences as yourself, but the Riksdag had set this in stone for quite some time."
Noemi was being assisted by some of her handmaidens, making sure the various layers of the Grande Dame Durand regalia sat where they should be.
The duo was in one of the waiting chambers near the main halls within the palace. Compared the the various Nobilis keeps that Ostia had briefly visited over the years,, it wasn't gaudy. Sure there was some gold decorations and scattering of murals and paintings, but it wasn't an assault on the senses compared the the Imperial Nobles taste. Thick rugs of both fur and woven textiles, making Ostia careful everytime time she adjusted her posture, or when one of Noemie's attendants tried to help with Ostia's dress. Old wrought iron chandeliers crowned with old gas lights or even tallow candles, casting a more warm comforting haze throughout the chamber.
"Lord Surtr isn't a fan either of pomp and regalia?"
"Non non, he isn't. He is a soldier, a warrior, he stands with his people at the front lines, he doesn't wish to lord over the Kingdom from the comfort of his keep. Somewhere in his mind,, he still doesn't see himself as a King. Even after all this time."
Ostia furrows her brow a little when hearing more of this enigmatic Surtr. Crowned king by his people, but does not wish for it. Clad in regalia befitting his station, yet wishes to be clad in his armour of war. To be seen as a Symbol of Unity,, but is not unified with their people. It sounds,, familiar.
"Grande Dame Durand, Lady Haldus."
Ostia snaps out of her reverie to look for the source of the new voice. Near the now opened chamber doors stood a neatly dressed officer, hair tucked back tightly into a thick braid of raven black while holding her officer's cap against her chest.
"His Majesty and his Council are now awaiting the last of their guests. Honored Brother Esatar is by the Main Hall entrance. This way, please."
Ostia and Neomie looked upon one another before silently agreeing to follow. Neomie allowed her attendants to return to their previous duties or head back to the lodge, while Ostia carefully trod over the rugs, being mindful once again of her talons so they didn't trip on the way. The Officer gave a little wry smile when both women were soon out of the chambers and guided them away through the stone wrought corridors.
The rhythmic click of metal claws and scuffs of well worn boots fill the silence of the women being led to the main hall. The thick carved stone walls were draped in tapestries, depicting old wars or scenes of nature from across the realms. A few palace attendants were helping fix up a vast tapestry that had seen better days,, one that Ostia stopped to gaze over.
It was vast, it stretched for another dozen meters from where Ostia paused, something about this piece of work made her stop. The time to paint this piece, let alone to weave and keep it whole once it was hung up here. She couldn't help but reach out to run her fingers across the fabric, the thin threads soft from age but still held strong despite it.
Above her was a titan of a man, clad in some manner of leather and chain mail with a heavy fur cloak across his shoulders, one of which had the skull of whatever wolf-like beast was slain to make it. A thick beard was tied up in a simple braided affair, while the almost forest of hair on the top of the man's head flowed down freely, both the shade of dried blood flecked with gold. One hand was held out and open towards a horde of people, the other rested on the hilt of a battered and worn greatsword,, bearing the crest of an eagle clasping lightning bolts within its talons.
"Lady Haldus. Does something bother you?"
Ostia blinks back to the present, turning to look at the Officer who had spotted the lagging Imperial guest.
"No well,, I,,. Who was he? This man? He must have been important for your people to have such a big piece of art. I'm still learning about your people's history."
Ostia could see Neomie giving a firm look from over the officer's shoulder, making her adjust her manner and using her Lady Haldus voice when speaking to the Officer.
"This, Lady Haldus, was the day our forebearers came upon this world some ten millennia ago, during the later parts of what the imperials called The Great Crusade. The fleet of the Drekk-Tra with all their serfs and families, and the native colonists from a bygone era. And Him. Our High King. Surtr. His Såga is still being written, and this one is one of the oldest chapters to his Såga. Many of our halls bear his Såga, as well as the Ancients. Sigurd, Valkia, Ulfberth, Æslein, and a thousand thousand others. Their Legacy is what gave us our Future."
The Officer spoke softly, a gloved hand delicately running across the tapestry with an almost revering touch, as if to grasp it would cut her to the bone. Ostia gazed over the great work
"A Warrior King, who walked in the Light of the Champion of the Æsir, the blood and ashes of countless worlds stained his hands,, yet offered an opened palm to our ancestors, bearing his heart and soul so not to divide us, but to unite and prosper, even if it was not in his own blood to do so. That, Lady Ostia,,"
The Officer turned to look deep into Ostia eyes, her amber hues bearing no chill or harshness,
", That is our High King. A primal force that has slain, a warrior with God-Blood, bearing the mantle of conquest, but has chosen to build and defend. It is why He decreed that we call ourselves not slayers or butchers or tyrants,,"
For people wondering about Ostia's fancy dress, that she is still wondering how Neomie managed to smuggle it all this way, @rowscara made this glorious outfit a while back but I adore it.
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
Check it here!
(From what I recall, Ostia isn't a fan out wearing it, but I'm headcanon-ing it that R'tan secretly thinks it's a banger, and that he's got a queen as a partner when she's strutting round in it.)
"Surely I can wear something a little less,, formal? I don't want to be seen like some haughty Imperial,, right? "
Ostia tugged a little at her furlined cloak, the dress and jewelry rustling from the motions. She felt even more out of place now, first with just being on Midgård as an Outlander, but now also wearing her formal ceremonial attire that Neomie had smuggled along their trip. Whilst on Haldia within her ancestral keep it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, even if she didn't enjoy it,, to wear it now on such foreign soil?
"Pas de tout ma cherie! I recognize that you would prefer your more,, weathered clothes, I realize this now. Sadly there is a dress code when visiting the Kungliga Palatset. Especially when His Majesty is home. Not his choice mind you, he has similar preferences as yourself, but the Riksdag had set this in stone for quite some time."
Noemi was being assisted by some of her handmaidens, making sure the various layers of the Grande Dame Durand regalia sat where they should be.
The duo was in one of the waiting chambers near the main halls within the palace. Compared the the various Nobilis keeps that Ostia had briefly visited over the years,, it wasn't gaudy. Sure there was some gold decorations and scattering of murals and paintings, but it wasn't an assault on the senses compared the the Imperial Nobles taste. Thick rugs of both fur and woven textiles, making Ostia careful everytime time she adjusted her posture, or when one of Noemie's attendants tried to help with Ostia's dress. Old wrought iron chandeliers crowned with old gas lights or even tallow candles, casting a more warm comforting haze throughout the chamber.
"Lord Surtr isn't a fan either of pomp and regalia?"
"Non non, he isn't. He is a soldier, a warrior, he stands with his people at the front lines, he doesn't wish to lord over the Kingdom from the comfort of his keep. Somewhere in his mind,, he still doesn't see himself as a King. Even after all this time."
Ostia furrows her brow a little when hearing more of this enigmatic Surtr. Crowned king by his people, but does not wish for it. Clad in regalia befitting his station, yet wishes to be clad in his armour of war. To be seen as a Symbol of Unity,, but is not unified with their people. It sounds,, familiar.
"Grande Dame Durand, Lady Haldus."
Ostia snaps out of her reverie to look for the source of the new voice. Near the now opened chamber doors stood a neatly dressed officer, hair tucked back tightly into a thick braid of raven black while holding her officer's cap against her chest.
"His Majesty and his Council are now awaiting the last of their guests. Honored Brother Esatar is by the Main Hall entrance. This way, please."
Ostia and Neomie looked upon one another before silently agreeing to follow. Neomie allowed her attendants to return to their previous duties or head back to the lodge, while Ostia carefully trod over the rugs, being mindful once again of her talons so they didn't trip on the way. The Officer gave a little wry smile when both women were soon out of the chambers and guided them away through the stone wrought corridors.
The rhythmic click of metal claws and scuffs of well worn boots fill the silence of the women being led to the main hall. The thick carved stone walls were draped in tapestries, depicting old wars or scenes of nature from across the realms. A few palace attendants were helping fix up a vast tapestry that had seen better days,, one that Ostia stopped to gaze over.
It was vast, it stretched for another dozen meters from where Ostia paused, something about this piece of work made her stop. The time to paint this piece, let alone to weave and keep it whole once it was hung up here. She couldn't help but reach out to run her fingers across the fabric, the thin threads soft from age but still held strong despite it.
Above her was a titan of a man, clad in some manner of leather and chain mail with a heavy fur cloak across his shoulders, one of which had the skull of whatever wolf-like beast was slain to make it. A thick beard was tied up in a simple braided affair, while the almost forest of hair on the top of the man's head flowed down freely, both the shade of dried blood flecked with gold. One hand was held out and open towards a horde of people, the other rested on the hilt of a battered and worn greatsword,, bearing the crest of an eagle clasping lightning bolts within its talons.
"Lady Haldus. Does something bother you?"
Ostia blinks back to the present, turning to look at the Officer who had spotted the lagging Imperial guest.
"No well,, I,,. Who was he? This man? He must have been important for your people to have such a big piece of art. I'm still learning about your people's history."
Ostia could see Neomie giving a firm look from over the officer's shoulder, making her adjust her manner and using her Lady Haldus voice when speaking to the Officer.
"This, Lady Haldus, was the day our forebearers came upon this world some ten millennia ago, during the later parts of what the imperials called The Great Crusade. The fleet of the Drekk-Tra with all their serfs and families, and the native colonists from a bygone era. And Him. Our High King. Surtr. His Såga is still being written, and this one is one of the oldest chapters to his Såga. Many of our halls bear his Såga, as well as the Ancients. Sigurd, Valkia, Ulfberth, Æslein, and a thousand thousand others. Their Legacy is what gave us our Future."
The Officer spoke softly, a gloved hand delicately running across the tapestry with an almost revering touch, as if to grasp it would cut her to the bone. Ostia gazed over the great work
"A Warrior King, who walked in the Light of the Champion of the Æsir, the blood and ashes of countless worlds stained his hands,, yet offered an opened palm to our ancestors, bearing his heart and soul so not to divide us, but to unite and prosper, even if it was not in his own blood to do so. That, Lady Ostia,,"
The Officer turned to look deep into Ostia eyes, her amber hues bearing no chill or harshness,
", That is our High King. A primal force that has slain, a warrior with God-Blood, bearing the mantle of conquest, but has chosen to build and defend. It is why He decreed that we call ourselves not slayers or butchers or tyrants,,"
For people wondering about Ostia's fancy dress, that she is still wondering how Neomie managed to smuggle it all this way, @rowscara made this glorious outfit a while back but I adore it.
Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your
Check it here!
(From what I recall, Ostia isn't a fan out wearing it, but I'm headcanon-ing it that R'tan secretly thinks it's a banger, and that he's got a queen as a partner when she's strutting round in it.)
"Surely I can wear something a little less,, formal? I don't want to be seen like some haughty Imperial,, right? "
Ostia tugged a little at her furlined cloak, the dress and jewelry rustling from the motions. She felt even more out of place now, first with just being on Midgård as an Outlander, but now also wearing her formal ceremonial attire that Neomie had smuggled along their trip. Whilst on Haldia within her ancestral keep it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, even if she didn't enjoy it,, to wear it now on such foreign soil?
"Pas de tout ma cherie! I recognize that you would prefer your more,, weathered clothes, I realize this now. Sadly there is a dress code when visiting the Kungliga Palatset. Especially when His Majesty is home. Not his choice mind you, he has similar preferences as yourself, but the Riksdag had set this in stone for quite some time."
Noemi was being assisted by some of her handmaidens, making sure the various layers of the Grande Dame Durand regalia sat where they should be.
The duo was in one of the waiting chambers near the main halls within the palace. Compared the the various Nobilis keeps that Ostia had briefly visited over the years,, it wasn't gaudy. Sure there was some gold decorations and scattering of murals and paintings, but it wasn't an assault on the senses compared the the Imperial Nobles taste. Thick rugs of both fur and woven textiles, making Ostia careful everytime time she adjusted her posture, or when one of Noemie's attendants tried to help with Ostia's dress. Old wrought iron chandeliers crowned with old gas lights or even tallow candles, casting a more warm comforting haze throughout the chamber.
"Lord Surtr isn't a fan either of pomp and regalia?"
"Non non, he isn't. He is a soldier, a warrior, he stands with his people at the front lines, he doesn't wish to lord over the Kingdom from the comfort of his keep. Somewhere in his mind,, he still doesn't see himself as a King. Even after all this time."
Ostia furrows her brow a little when hearing more of this enigmatic Surtr. Crowned king by his people, but does not wish for it. Clad in regalia befitting his station, yet wishes to be clad in his armour of war. To be seen as a Symbol of Unity,, but is not unified with their people. It sounds,, familiar.
"Grande Dame Durand, Lady Haldus."
Ostia snaps out of her reverie to look for the source of the new voice. Near the now opened chamber doors stood a neatly dressed officer, hair tucked back tightly into a thick braid of raven black while holding her officer's cap against her chest.
"His Majesty and his Council are now awaiting the last of their guests. Honored Brother Esatar is by the Main Hall entrance. This way, please."
Ostia and Neomie looked upon one another before silently agreeing to follow. Neomie allowed her attendants to return to their previous duties or head back to the lodge, while Ostia carefully trod over the rugs, being mindful once again of her talons so they didn't trip on the way. The Officer gave a little wry smile when both women were soon out of the chambers and guided them away through the stone wrought corridors.
The rhythmic click of metal claws and scuffs of well worn boots fill the silence of the women being led to the main hall. The thick carved stone walls were draped in tapestries, depicting old wars or scenes of nature from across the realms. A few palace attendants were helping fix up a vast tapestry that had seen better days,, one that Ostia stopped to gaze over.
It was vast, it stretched for another dozen meters from where Ostia paused, something about this piece of work made her stop. The time to paint this piece, let alone to weave and keep it whole once it was hung up here. She couldn't help but reach out to run her fingers across the fabric, the thin threads soft from age but still held strong despite it.
Above her was a titan of a man, clad in some manner of leather and chain mail with a heavy fur cloak across his shoulders, one of which had the skull of whatever wolf-like beast was slain to make it. A thick beard was tied up in a simple braided affair, while the almost forest of hair on the top of the man's head flowed down freely, both the shade of dried blood flecked with gold. One hand was held out and open towards a horde of people, the other rested on the hilt of a battered and worn greatsword,, bearing the crest of an eagle clasping lightning bolts within its talons.
"Lady Haldus. Does something bother you?"
Ostia blinks back to the present, turning to look at the Officer who had spotted the lagging Imperial guest.
"No well,, I,,. Who was he? This man? He must have been important for your people to have such a big piece of art. I'm still learning about your people's history."
Ostia could see Neomie giving a firm look from over the officer's shoulder, making her adjust her manner and using her Lady Haldus voice when speaking to the Officer.
"This, Lady Haldus, was the day our forebearers came upon this world some ten millennia ago, during the later parts of what the imperials called The Great Crusade. The fleet of the Drekk-Tra with all their serfs and families, and the native colonists from a bygone era. And Him. Our High King. Surtr. His Såga is still being written, and this one is one of the oldest chapters to his Såga. Many of our halls bear his Såga, as well as the Ancients. Sigurd, Valkia, Ulfberth, Æslein, and a thousand thousand others. Their Legacy is what gave us our Future."
The Officer spoke softly, a gloved hand delicately running across the tapestry with an almost revering touch, as if to grasp it would cut her to the bone. Ostia gazed over the great work
"A Warrior King, who walked in the Light of the Champion of the Æsir, the blood and ashes of countless worlds stained his hands,, yet offered an opened palm to our ancestors, bearing his heart and soul so not to divide us, but to unite and prosper, even if it was not in his own blood to do so. That, Lady Ostia,,"
The Officer turned to look deep into Ostia eyes, her amber hues bearing no chill or harshness,
", That is our High King. A primal force that has slain, a warrior with God-Blood, bearing the mantle of conquest, but has chosen to build and defend. It is why He decreed that we call ourselves not slayers or butchers or tyrants,,"
Genuinely this is one of the most beautifully animated things I've seen since the golden age of animation. I could actually cry for how much love they put into this jfc what a beautiful homage
to anyone saying there's nothing to look forward to, I'm not saying it has to be anything spectacular or huge. it could just be a song or a book that will release in a few days, a tv show, anything!! no matter how small it seems it can keep us going
"Surely I can wear something a little less,, formal? I don't want to be seen like some haughty Imperial,, right? "
Ostia tugged a little at her furlined cloak, the dress and jewelry rustling from the motions. She felt even more out of place now, first with just being on Midgård as an Outlander, but now also wearing her formal ceremonial attire that Neomie had smuggled along their trip. Whilst on Haldia within her ancestral keep it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, even if she didn't enjoy it,, to wear it now on such foreign soil?
"Pas de tout ma cherie! I recognize that you would prefer your more,, weathered clothes, I realize this now. Sadly there is a dress code when visiting the Kungliga Palatset. Especially when His Majesty is home. Not his choice mind you, he has similar preferences as yourself, but the Riksdag had set this in stone for quite some time."
Noemi was being assisted by some of her handmaidens, making sure the various layers of the Grande Dame Durand regalia sat where they should be.
The duo was in one of the waiting chambers near the main halls within the palace. Compared the the various Nobilis keeps that Ostia had briefly visited over the years,, it wasn't gaudy. Sure there was some gold decorations and scattering of murals and paintings, but it wasn't an assault on the senses compared the the Imperial Nobles taste. Thick rugs of both fur and woven textiles, making Ostia careful everytime time she adjusted her posture, or when one of Noemie's attendants tried to help with Ostia's dress. Old wrought iron chandeliers crowned with old gas lights or even tallow candles, casting a more warm comforting haze throughout the chamber.
"Lord Surtr isn't a fan either of pomp and regalia?"
"Non non, he isn't. He is a soldier, a warrior, he stands with his people at the front lines, he doesn't wish to lord over the Kingdom from the comfort of his keep. Somewhere in his mind,, he still doesn't see himself as a King. Even after all this time."
Ostia furrows her brow a little when hearing more of this enigmatic Surtr. Crowned king by his people, but does not wish for it. Clad in regalia befitting his station, yet wishes to be clad in his armour of war. To be seen as a Symbol of Unity,, but is not unified with their people. It sounds,, familiar.
"Grande Dame Durand, Lady Haldus."
Ostia snaps out of her reverie to look for the source of the new voice. Near the now opened chamber doors stood a neatly dressed officer, hair tucked back tightly into a thick braid of raven black while holding her officer's cap against her chest.
"His Majesty and his Council are now awaiting the last of their guests. Honored Brother Esatar is by the Main Hall entrance. This way, please."
Ostia and Neomie looked upon one another before silently agreeing to follow. Neomie allowed her attendants to return to their previous duties or head back to the lodge, while Ostia carefully trod over the rugs, being mindful once again of her talons so they didn't trip on the way. The Officer gave a little wry smile when both women were soon out of the chambers and guided them away through the stone wrought corridors.
The rhythmic click of metal claws and scuffs of well worn boots fill the silence of the women being led to the main hall. The thick carved stone walls were draped in tapestries, depicting old wars or scenes of nature from across the realms. A few palace attendants were helping fix up a vast tapestry that had seen better days,, one that Ostia stopped to gaze over.
It was vast, it stretched for another dozen meters from where Ostia paused, something about this piece of work made her stop. The time to paint this piece, let alone to weave and keep it whole once it was hung up here. She couldn't help but reach out to run her fingers across the fabric, the thin threads soft from age but still held strong despite it.
Above her was a titan of a man, clad in some manner of leather and chain mail with a heavy fur cloak across his shoulders, one of which had the skull of whatever wolf-like beast was slain to make it. A thick beard was tied up in a simple braided affair, while the almost forest of hair on the top of the man's head flowed down freely, both the shade of dried blood flecked with gold. One hand was held out and open towards a horde of people, the other rested on the hilt of a battered and worn greatsword,, bearing the crest of an eagle clasping lightning bolts within its talons.
"Lady Haldus. Does something bother you?"
Ostia blinks back to the present, turning to look at the Officer who had spotted the lagging Imperial guest.
"No well,, I,,. Who was he? This man? He must have been important for your people to have such a big piece of art. I'm still learning about your people's history."
Ostia could see Neomie giving a firm look from over the officer's shoulder, making her adjust her manner and using her Lady Haldus voice when speaking to the Officer.
"This, Lady Haldus, was the day our forebearers came upon this world some ten millennia ago, during the later parts of what the imperials called The Great Crusade. The fleet of the Drekk-Tra with all their serfs and families, and the native colonists from a bygone era. And Him. Our High King. Surtr. His Såga is still being written, and this one is one of the oldest chapters to his Såga. Many of our halls bear his Såga, as well as the Ancients. Sigurd, Valkia, Ulfberth, Æslein, and a thousand thousand others. Their Legacy is what gave us our Future."
The Officer spoke softly, a gloved hand delicately running across the tapestry with an almost revering touch, as if to grasp it would cut her to the bone. Ostia gazed over the great work
"A Warrior King, who walked in the Light of the Champion of the Æsir, the blood and ashes of countless worlds stained his hands,, yet offered an opened palm to our ancestors, bearing his heart and soul so not to divide us, but to unite and prosper, even if it was not in his own blood to do so. That, Lady Ostia,,"
The Officer turned to look deep into Ostia eyes, her amber hues bearing no chill or harshness,
", That is our High King. A primal force that has slain, a warrior with God-Blood, bearing the mantle of conquest, but has chosen to build and defend. It is why He decreed that we call ourselves not slayers or butchers or tyrants,,"
“but there is an over saturation of American politics on Tumblr” I do not mean to be rude but the heavy majority the Tumblr community is American.
Not to say that the events occurring in other countries do not matter but the reason you are seeing so many posts about being American and what is going on in America is that you are on a site that has an American majority with smaller minority user bases from other countries. Like, I am so very sorry but this is an American website.
For additional reference, 22% of Twitter users are American and 58% of Reddit users are American.
Absolutely. We could benefit from that. If you’re thinking the site has become more American in the time you’ve used it, you’re not imagining it. The site used to be more diverse in terms of nationality. It’s difficult to find charts of the change but only 30% of users were American in 2013. There were 141.4 million blogs on the site in 2013 and there are now 626.79 million in 2026. But yes, encourage your friends to join Tumblr if you’re not in America. Be the change you want to see on this site.
"Surely I can wear something a little less,, formal? I don't want to be seen like some haughty Imperial,, right? "
Ostia tugged a little at her furlined cloak, the dress and jewelry rustling from the motions. She felt even more out of place now, first with just being on Midgård as an Outlander, but now also wearing her formal ceremonial attire that Neomie had smuggled along their trip. Whilst on Haldia within her ancestral keep it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, even if she didn't enjoy it,, to wear it now on such foreign soil?
"Pas de tout ma cherie! I recognize that you would prefer your more,, weathered clothes, I realize this now. Sadly there is a dress code when visiting the Kungliga Palatset. Especially when His Majesty is home. Not his choice mind you, he has similar preferences as yourself, but the Riksdag had set this in stone for quite some time."
Noemi was being assisted by some of her handmaidens, making sure the various layers of the Grande Dame Durand regalia sat where they should be.
The duo was in one of the waiting chambers near the main halls within the palace. Compared the the various Nobilis keeps that Ostia had briefly visited over the years,, it wasn't gaudy. Sure there was some gold decorations and scattering of murals and paintings, but it wasn't an assault on the senses compared the the Imperial Nobles taste. Thick rugs of both fur and woven textiles, making Ostia careful everytime time she adjusted her posture, or when one of Noemie's attendants tried to help with Ostia's dress. Old wrought iron chandeliers crowned with old gas lights or even tallow candles, casting a more warm comforting haze throughout the chamber.
"Lord Surtr isn't a fan either of pomp and regalia?"
"Non non, he isn't. He is a soldier, a warrior, he stands with his people at the front lines, he doesn't wish to lord over the Kingdom from the comfort of his keep. Somewhere in his mind,, he still doesn't see himself as a King. Even after all this time."
Ostia furrows her brow a little when hearing more of this enigmatic Surtr. Crowned king by his people, but does not wish for it. Clad in regalia befitting his station, yet wishes to be clad in his armour of war. To be seen as a Symbol of Unity,, but is not unified with their people. It sounds,, familiar.
"Grande Dame Durand, Lady Haldus."
Ostia snaps out of her reverie to look for the source of the new voice. Near the now opened chamber doors stood a neatly dressed officer, hair tucked back tightly into a thick braid of raven black while holding her officer's cap against her chest.
"His Majesty and his Council are now awaiting the last of their guests. Honored Brother Esatar is by the Main Hall entrance. This way, please."
Ostia and Neomie looked upon one another before silently agreeing to follow. Neomie allowed her attendants to return to their previous duties or head back to the lodge, while Ostia carefully trod over the rugs, being mindful once again of her talons so they didn't trip on the way. The Officer gave a little wry smile when both women were soon out of the chambers and guided them away through the stone wrought corridors.
The rhythmic click of metal claws and scuffs of well worn boots fill the silence of the women being led to the main hall. The thick carved stone walls were draped in tapestries, depicting old wars or scenes of nature from across the realms. A few palace attendants were helping fix up a vast tapestry that had seen better days,, one that Ostia stopped to gaze over.
It was vast, it stretched for another dozen meters from where Ostia paused, something about this piece of work made her stop. The time to paint this piece, let alone to weave and keep it whole once it was hung up here. She couldn't help but reach out to run her fingers across the fabric, the thin threads soft from age but still held strong despite it.
Above her was a titan of a man, clad in some manner of leather and chain mail with a heavy fur cloak across his shoulders, one of which had the skull of whatever wolf-like beast was slain to make it. A thick beard was tied up in a simple braided affair, while the almost forest of hair on the top of the man's head flowed down freely, both the shade of dried blood flecked with gold. One hand was held out and open towards a horde of people, the other rested on the hilt of a battered and worn greatsword,, bearing the crest of an eagle clasping lightning bolts within its talons.
"Lady Haldus. Does something bother you?"
Ostia blinks back to the present, turning to look at the Officer who had spotted the lagging Imperial guest.
"No well,, I,,. Who was he? This man? He must have been important for your people to have such a big piece of art. I'm still learning about your people's history."
Ostia could see Neomie giving a firm look from over the officer's shoulder, making her adjust her manner and using her Lady Haldus voice when speaking to the Officer.
"This, Lady Haldus, was the day our forebearers came upon this world some ten millennia ago, during the later parts of what the imperials called The Great Crusade. The fleet of the Drekk-Tra with all their serfs and families, and the native colonists from a bygone era. And Him. Our High King. Surtr. His Såga is still being written, and this one is one of the oldest chapters to his Såga. Many of our halls bear his Såga, as well as the Ancients. Sigurd, Valkia, Ulfberth, Æslein, and a thousand thousand others. Their Legacy is what gave us our Future."
The Officer spoke softly, a gloved hand delicately running across the tapestry with an almost revering touch, as if to grasp it would cut her to the bone. Ostia gazed over the great work
"A Warrior King, who walked in the Light of the Champion of the Æsir, the blood and ashes of countless worlds stained his hands,, yet offered an opened palm to our ancestors, bearing his heart and soul so not to divide us, but to unite and prosper, even if it was not in his own blood to do so. That, Lady Ostia,,"
The Officer turned to look deep into Ostia eyes, her amber hues bearing no chill or harshness,
", That is our High King. A primal force that has slain, a warrior with God-Blood, bearing the mantle of conquest, but has chosen to build and defend. It is why He decreed that we call ourselves not slayers or butchers or tyrants,,"
"Surely I can wear something a little less,, formal? I don't want to be seen like some haughty Imperial,, right? "
Ostia tugged a little at her furlined cloak, the dress and jewelry rustling from the motions. She felt even more out of place now, first with just being on Midgård as an Outlander, but now also wearing her formal ceremonial attire that Neomie had smuggled along their trip. Whilst on Haldia within her ancestral keep it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, even if she didn't enjoy it,, to wear it now on such foreign soil?
"Pas de tout ma cherie! I recognize that you would prefer your more,, weathered clothes, I realize this now. Sadly there is a dress code when visiting the Kungliga Palatset. Especially when His Majesty is home. Not his choice mind you, he has similar preferences as yourself, but the Riksdag had set this in stone for quite some time."
Noemi was being assisted by some of her handmaidens, making sure the various layers of the Grande Dame Durand regalia sat where they should be.
The duo was in one of the waiting chambers near the main halls within the palace. Compared the the various Nobilis keeps that Ostia had briefly visited over the years,, it wasn't gaudy. Sure there was some gold decorations and scattering of murals and paintings, but it wasn't an assault on the senses compared the the Imperial Nobles taste. Thick rugs of both fur and woven textiles, making Ostia careful everytime time she adjusted her posture, or when one of Noemie's attendants tried to help with Ostia's dress. Old wrought iron chandeliers crowned with old gas lights or even tallow candles, casting a more warm comforting haze throughout the chamber.
"Lord Surtr isn't a fan either of pomp and regalia?"
"Non non, he isn't. He is a soldier, a warrior, he stands with his people at the front lines, he doesn't wish to lord over the Kingdom from the comfort of his keep. Somewhere in his mind,, he still doesn't see himself as a King. Even after all this time."
Ostia furrows her brow a little when hearing more of this enigmatic Surtr. Crowned king by his people, but does not wish for it. Clad in regalia befitting his station, yet wishes to be clad in his armour of war. To be seen as a Symbol of Unity,, but is not unified with their people. It sounds,, familiar.
"Grande Dame Durand, Lady Haldus."
Ostia snaps out of her reverie to look for the source of the new voice. Near the now opened chamber doors stood a neatly dressed officer, hair tucked back tightly into a thick braid of raven black while holding her officer's cap against her chest.
"His Majesty and his Council are now awaiting the last of their guests. Honored Brother Esatar is by the Main Hall entrance. This way, please."
Ostia and Neomie looked upon one another before silently agreeing to follow. Neomie allowed her attendants to return to their previous duties or head back to the lodge, while Ostia carefully trod over the rugs, being mindful once again of her talons so they didn't trip on the way. The Officer gave a little wry smile when both women were soon out of the chambers and guided them away through the stone wrought corridors.
The rhythmic click of metal claws and scuffs of well worn boots fill the silence of the women being led to the main hall. The thick carved stone walls were draped in tapestries, depicting old wars or scenes of nature from across the realms. A few palace attendants were helping fix up a vast tapestry that had seen better days,, one that Ostia stopped to gaze over.
It was vast, it stretched for another dozen meters from where Ostia paused, something about this piece of work made her stop. The time to paint this piece, let alone to weave and keep it whole once it was hung up here. She couldn't help but reach out to run her fingers across the fabric, the thin threads soft from age but still held strong despite it.
Above her was a titan of a man, clad in some manner of leather and chain mail with a heavy fur cloak across his shoulders, one of which had the skull of whatever wolf-like beast was slain to make it. A thick beard was tied up in a simple braided affair, while the almost forest of hair on the top of the man's head flowed down freely, both the shade of dried blood flecked with gold. One hand was held out and open towards a horde of people, the other rested on the hilt of a battered and worn greatsword,, bearing the crest of an eagle clasping lightning bolts within its talons.
"Lady Haldus. Does something bother you?"
Ostia blinks back to the present, turning to look at the Officer who had spotted the lagging Imperial guest.
"No well,, I,,. Who was he? This man? He must have been important for your people to have such a big piece of art. I'm still learning about your people's history."
Ostia could see Neomie giving a firm look from over the officer's shoulder, making her adjust her manner and using her Lady Haldus voice when speaking to the Officer.
"This, Lady Haldus, was the day our forebearers came upon this world some ten millennia ago, during the later parts of what the imperials called The Great Crusade. The fleet of the Drekk-Tra with all their serfs and families, and the native colonists from a bygone era. And Him. Our High King. Surtr. His Såga is still being written, and this one is one of the oldest chapters to his Såga. Many of our halls bear his Såga, as well as the Ancients. Sigurd, Valkia, Ulfberth, Æslein, and a thousand thousand others. Their Legacy is what gave us our Future."
The Officer spoke softly, a gloved hand delicately running across the tapestry with an almost revering touch, as if to grasp it would cut her to the bone. Ostia gazed over the great work
"A Warrior King, who walked in the Light of the Champion of the Æsir, the blood and ashes of countless worlds stained his hands,, yet offered an opened palm to our ancestors, bearing his heart and soul so not to divide us, but to unite and prosper, even if it was not in his own blood to do so. That, Lady Ostia,,"
The Officer turned to look deep into Ostia eyes, her amber hues bearing no chill or harshness,
", That is our High King. A primal force that has slain, a warrior with God-Blood, bearing the mantle of conquest, but has chosen to build and defend. It is why He decreed that we call ourselves not slayers or butchers or tyrants,,"
"Surely I can wear something a little less,, formal? I don't want to be seen like some haughty Imperial,, right? "
Ostia tugged a little at her furlined cloak, the dress and jewelry rustling from the motions. She felt even more out of place now, first with just being on Midgård as an Outlander, but now also wearing her formal ceremonial attire that Neomie had smuggled along their trip. Whilst on Haldia within her ancestral keep it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, even if she didn't enjoy it,, to wear it now on such foreign soil?
"Pas de tout ma cherie! I recognize that you would prefer your more,, weathered clothes, I realize this now. Sadly there is a dress code when visiting the Kungliga Palatset. Especially when His Majesty is home. Not his choice mind you, he has similar preferences as yourself, but the Riksdag had set this in stone for quite some time."
Noemi was being assisted by some of her handmaidens, making sure the various layers of the Grande Dame Durand regalia sat where they should be.
The duo was in one of the waiting chambers near the main halls within the palace. Compared the the various Nobilis keeps that Ostia had briefly visited over the years,, it wasn't gaudy. Sure there was some gold decorations and scattering of murals and paintings, but it wasn't an assault on the senses compared the the Imperial Nobles taste. Thick rugs of both fur and woven textiles, making Ostia careful everytime time she adjusted her posture, or when one of Noemie's attendants tried to help with Ostia's dress. Old wrought iron chandeliers crowned with old gas lights or even tallow candles, casting a more warm comforting haze throughout the chamber.
"Lord Surtr isn't a fan either of pomp and regalia?"
"Non non, he isn't. He is a soldier, a warrior, he stands with his people at the front lines, he doesn't wish to lord over the Kingdom from the comfort of his keep. Somewhere in his mind,, he still doesn't see himself as a King. Even after all this time."
Ostia furrows her brow a little when hearing more of this enigmatic Surtr. Crowned king by his people, but does not wish for it. Clad in regalia befitting his station, yet wishes to be clad in his armour of war. To be seen as a Symbol of Unity,, but is not unified with their people. It sounds,, familiar.
"Grande Dame Durand, Lady Haldus."
Ostia snaps out of her reverie to look for the source of the new voice. Near the now opened chamber doors stood a neatly dressed officer, hair tucked back tightly into a thick braid of raven black while holding her officer's cap against her chest.
"His Majesty and his Council are now awaiting the last of their guests. Honored Brother Esatar is by the Main Hall entrance. This way, please."
Ostia and Neomie looked upon one another before silently agreeing to follow. Neomie allowed her attendants to return to their previous duties or head back to the lodge, while Ostia carefully trod over the rugs, being mindful once again of her talons so they didn't trip on the way. The Officer gave a little wry smile when both women were soon out of the chambers and guided them away through the stone wrought corridors.
The rhythmic click of metal claws and scuffs of well worn boots fill the silence of the women being led to the main hall. The thick carved stone walls were draped in tapestries, depicting old wars or scenes of nature from across the realms. A few palace attendants were helping fix up a vast tapestry that had seen better days,, one that Ostia stopped to gaze over.
It was vast, it stretched for another dozen meters from where Ostia paused, something about this piece of work made her stop. The time to paint this piece, let alone to weave and keep it whole once it was hung up here. She couldn't help but reach out to run her fingers across the fabric, the thin threads soft from age but still held strong despite it.
Above her was a titan of a man, clad in some manner of leather and chain mail with a heavy fur cloak across his shoulders, one of which had the skull of whatever wolf-like beast was slain to make it. A thick beard was tied up in a simple braided affair, while the almost forest of hair on the top of the man's head flowed down freely, both the shade of dried blood flecked with gold. One hand was held out and open towards a horde of people, the other rested on the hilt of a battered and worn greatsword,, bearing the crest of an eagle clasping lightning bolts within its talons.
"Lady Haldus. Does something bother you?"
Ostia blinks back to the present, turning to look at the Officer who had spotted the lagging Imperial guest.
"No well,, I,,. Who was he? This man? He must have been important for your people to have such a big piece of art. I'm still learning about your people's history."
Ostia could see Neomie giving a firm look from over the officer's shoulder, making her adjust her manner and using her Lady Haldus voice when speaking to the Officer.
"This, Lady Haldus, was the day our forebearers came upon this world some ten millennia ago, during the later parts of what the imperials called The Great Crusade. The fleet of the Drekk-Tra with all their serfs and families, and the native colonists from a bygone era. And Him. Our High King. Surtr. His Såga is still being written, and this one is one of the oldest chapters to his Såga. Many of our halls bear his Såga, as well as the Ancients. Sigurd, Valkia, Ulfberth, Æslein, and a thousand thousand others. Their Legacy is what gave us our Future."
The Officer spoke softly, a gloved hand delicately running across the tapestry with an almost revering touch, as if to grasp it would cut her to the bone. Ostia gazed over the great work
"A Warrior King, who walked in the Light of the Champion of the Æsir, the blood and ashes of countless worlds stained his hands,, yet offered an opened palm to our ancestors, bearing his heart and soul so not to divide us, but to unite and prosper, even if it was not in his own blood to do so. That, Lady Ostia,,"
The Officer turned to look deep into Ostia eyes, her amber hues bearing no chill or harshness,
", That is our High King. A primal force that has slain, a warrior with God-Blood, bearing the mantle of conquest, but has chosen to build and defend. It is why He decreed that we call ourselves not slayers or butchers or tyrants,,"
I have a working scanner again, so I got to work colouring some of my concept sketches for my future canon Rook.
(and, yes, her long braid is highly influenced by Rumi's from KPop Demon Hunters).
She's still a work in progress, but she's already such a beauty. 〒▽〒 I'm still playing the game, so I haven't chosen a love interest for her yet - though I am heavily leaning towards Lucanis.
I already have a handful of comic ideas, so once I've gotten a better idea of what Ingram will look like, I'll try to get started on those.
I love reading your blog as someone who's very oblivious on any topic around alchemy and or ancient history, because I get to go "Ah, the wizard id on my timeline again. What terminology will i learn today?"
Dude… give me the bottle (or when you lost a rhyming contest against the supernatural skeletal horse)
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The second art is new and is featuring Mari on her day off (hence no rhyming, but she wouldn’t say no to a treat)
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There are more doodles and sketches in my reblogged post, look at them here
—
I found out about Mari Lwyd several years ago - and I fell in love with the concept. Here are some of my Lwyd arts I drew during all this time
My most popular art with her is here
The Last Watch. First of The Hearth. Sons of Muspel. Those Who Witnessed The End. The Ones Who Fight Alone. The Darkenguard.
The Einherjer.
These warriors are the elite of the elite within the Guardians of Asgård, chosen among the various Warhosts for their unique qualities or accomplishments. High King Surtr Muspelsson offers these warriors a place within his own Warhost, to serve directly under his royal banner and his personal command.
Those who accept this offer are immediately removed from their current Warhost, their old armor often returned to their previous commander, bidding farewell to their brethren.
The newly chosen are then taken back home to Midgård and escorted to the sprawling Temple-complex outside the main city of Kalmaholm, the densely wooded foothills a sanctuary from the city and outsiders.
Deep within the main temple lay a Well of Urd, a focal point for the Mortal Realm to interact with the Gods' Realm. A ritual is performed here with the Chosen and the High King before the Well of Urd, one that sends the soul of the Chosen through the nine realms, all the way till they witness their own death. They are forced to witness their demise again, again, and again, till that event is burned into their soul and body. This death of theirs could be only months away, it could be decades from this moment, or even millennia in the future. Only the Chosen and High King Surtr knows.
As their soul returns to their body, they are imbued by the water of the Well, granted a portion of the strength and wisdom from the ages the chosen warrior will have had in their future. Now, no longer were they mortal Astartes, now they were Einherjer.
The Warriors At The End Of All Things.
Clad now in ancient Cataphractii Terminator Armour, bestowed with the heaviest weaponry to crack open any foe, be they man, beast, or warmachine. They stride through the battlefields alongside their High King, tower shields deflecting blade and bolt, their Frost Axes and Warhammers splitting apart anyone with arms reach. Trundling through blasted landscapes or through the corridors of enemy craft, they are relentless in their advance towards the enemy.
Whenever the Einherjer takes a mortal wound, even one that would outright kill them, they do not stay dead long. Their hallowed flesh regrows, organs and bones knitting back together and their armour melding back unblemished. It is not yet their time to fall, not until they are at their prophesied moment, and until that very point in time; the Einherjers are immortal, Perpetual.
Slowly getting back up onto their feet, dusting off the grime and blood, and resume their sacred charge upon the battlefield. Their dark humor amongst themselves of their countless "deaths", and the look upon their foes or allies whenever the Einherjer stand back up.
But when Surtr bellows the order, these behemoths unleash their wroth. Their slow bulk now turns to an unstoppable stride, the ancient atomatic reactors roaring in unison with vox-hailers bellowing war-cries. The bloodline of Midgård is that of Terra, the lineage of the Thunder Warriors awakens in their hearts, those who conquered the Cradle of Humanity under the Emperor's Lighting Banner. The Einherjer now accept no quarter, no prisoners, no mercy. The High King has signed the death warrent, and they are it's executioner.
The Soturit, the mortal soldiers of Midgårdian military, gave the nickname of "Walking Thunder" when referring to the Einherjer, for they know that when thunder is heard, the storm is soon upon the them all.
The First Einherjer, the one who was the progenitor of this cadre, was a fellow clan-mate from Surtr's clan back on Terra and had been at Surtr's side ever since. His birth name is known only to the Ancients (the few remaining forebearers now entombed in Dreadnoughts) and High King Surtr. He took on the name of Sigúrd, after an old Terran hero famed for slaying elder terrors from Terra's past. Sigurd's Saga is lengthy, it's murals and Rúnstones elaborate and wide, many soldiers within the Kingdom pay tribute to him and bear an icon or carve his name on their blades and shields. Warriors who have felled great beasts are granted a more official sigil carved into their armour as a symbol of overcoming these monstrous beings.
Thunder rolls in over the horizon, but no lighting or rain is seen. The ground rumbles, but no tanks or titans are seen. The wind howls with wroth, but no storm is seen.
The High King walks upon the field.
The Einherjer come.
The Einherjer Come.
Ég heyri einhvern syngja hálf-innminnt lag. Og ég hlusta og brosi meðan ég seðja hungur spjóts míns, og söngurinn verður skýrari og sætari og sterkari.
Hvernig dauði manns berst er jafn mikilvægt og hvernig hver maður mætir honum þegar hann kemur að honum. Ég mæti mínum í baráttu við óvin frá landamærunum -- spjót mitt finnur hjarta hans á meðan hans eigið blað bítur mig.
Snerting á öxl minni og augun mín opnast -- ég er ekki dauður ennþá, þótt hrafnarnir nálgist. Ég horfi í augu eins gullin og augu arnarins, sjá hárið rennandi rautt eins og blóðið á spjótinu mínu.
Nú er ég aftur ungur maður og ég lifi fyrir spjótdansinn og blóð mitt er eins heitt og elsta stríð guðanna. Og þegar Ragnarök koma, mun ég berjast við hlið þeirra, spjót mitt og skjaldmey mín, að dyrum Valhallar.
