#omenkiller rollo

[artisticzaati]

Just an average family reunion at the Volcano Manor basement. It's a long story to why there of all places.

A redraw of this:

[starbornsea]

Omenkiller

[boramriel]

The things this monster of a man is doing to me

[lost-sword-monuments]

Upon his cursed sword, the king did wrought

Rollo's ruination, his followers naught

The omen cleavers fallen, the Golden throne secured

Discovered northeast of the Erdtree, overlooking the East Altus Divine tower.

[val-of-the-north]

I had a weird dream today... basically Elden Ring as a freaking Disney movie (the cool animated ones). But not like, a movie about the plot of Elden Ring that we play in-game, but a movie set in its world, in the past lol

Now, I wish I actually remembered the finer details, but the gist of it is: This was at the time of Marika and Radagon, with the disney princess stand-in for the story being a Tarnished girl friends with many outcasts in the Lands Between. One of them was a Nomadic Merchant, so the whole thing with them had already happened. In fact, some people in the story mention Shabriri and how he got his eyes removed for being a lying asshole

The villain was Omenkiller Rollo (I don’t know if my brain made an association with Frollo and the fact Omenkillers basically slaughter those who don’t belong in the Golden Order), though he was somewhat nuanced because of the whole “destroy your own emotions to commit atrocities in the name of good”, and Godwyn seemed to have a more benevolent role. You know how sometimes, movies have this morally just person with great power that doesn’t intervene much in the plot and does only when it counts? I think he had the vibe of something like that. Sadly I do not remember much because a certain scene hoarded my entire attention sadly...

Speaking of... at some point the Tarnished girl is pursued by a mob and there’s no way to escape unless someone holds them off. So the Nomadic Merchant tells her to run as fast as she possibly can while he buys her time, knowing full well he would not survive the encounter. Of course she protests and he eventually screams at her with his eyes swelling with tears. Only then does she oblige and he erupts into a flurry of Frenzy at those who were pursuing her... However, he IS killed despite buying her the time she needed.

Yet it was not the end, as the guy’s body begins to twitch and his eyes open again... he would not be seen again for sometime, but when he finally does show himself the Tarnished girl is incredibly relieved... until it turns out it was fucking SHABRIRI possessing his body, and shortly after he breaks out into a full villain song and I felt my metaphorical dream jaw drop lmao. It probably sounded like musical and lyrical vomit to the waking mind, but in the dream it was catchy as hell, it was about what you would expect from Shabriri and the Flame of Frenzy. God damnit tho why did my brain fart out a Shabriri villain song???? What the actual fuck ahahah

Sadly I don’t remember much past this point, I don’t know how Shabriri or Rollo were defeated (and if Rollo was defeated at all honestly) and if the story really took a Disney turn making the Nomadic guy come back to life after Shabriri was repelled (he and the Tarnished girl had some sort of Disney paring vibe tbh) or if he was dead for good... again, that sudden villain song just threw me out for a loop. I have to wonder if I dreamed up other songs that I don’t remember. But yeah, I am still trying to process it ahahahah

[catcas22]

Some stuff from Prince of Death ch40

1. First up we’ve got adult Mohg! He hasn’t fully embraced the Formless Mother yet in PoD, so his curse isn’t as advanced as it is in-game. Went through a couple different designs for pre-cursed-blood-set-aflame Mohg, and I think I found one I’m happy with!

2. A couple of little sewer omelettes. Drawing small fluffy Morgott is better than therapy.

3. Omen Killer Rollo. We have exactly one item description about this guy, and it fascinates me.

Spirit of Rollo, known as the first Omenkiller. Once a famous perfumer, Rollo imbibed a physick to rid himself of emotion, thus enabling him to enact his nightmarish labor, hunting the Omen.

The fact that he needed a sociopath-potion before he could function as an omen killer. He used to have a conscience. He used to have a sense of empathy. Rollo is not a monster because he was born a sadist or a psychopath. Rollo is/was a normal man who became a monster because he chose to deaden his conscience and do something he knew was wrong. Rollo is the banality of evil.

[sandwrites]

Tricia

The Perfumer watched over the trembling body of the Misbegotten warrior. 

Their chest shook with each breath. Death’s rattle, leading them back to the roots of the Erdtree.

At least. That was how it should have been. 

Stuck. That was how they all were. Stuck in a limbo they didn’t ask for, a limbo they never chose. 

Forced to die unwelcomed by the Erdtree’s grace. Cursed to seep back into the ground, souls left rotted and hapless in the wake of decay. 

The warrior croaked once, dark eyes staring glancing frantically up at the Perfumer. Holding tightly onto the the proffered hand that the Perfumer had held out as consolation. Pitiful, useless consolation. 

Its grip tightened. Painful, desperate, a last effort to cling to reality. 

And then, nothing.

Tricia slowly pulled her hand, as limp and as broken as it now felt, from the vise grip of the fallen Misbegotten, solemnly closing its eyes with her free hand. 

She had come to feel the pain of the Misbegotten. The understanding that they were doomed from birth. There was no light of grace guiding them, but it did shine in the shackles that grated against their ankles. It glistened in the eyes of those who herded them towards the mines, cracking their whips against their backs. 

It even glistened in her eyes. And the eyes of the Perfumers that failed to cure them.

Tricia had realised, you see. She had realised that the Misbegotten plight could not be cured. It was no curse, no malaise that could be waved away with the administration of a tincture in a vial. 

Something she had refused to accept, something that had lead to her expulsion from Leyndell to the volcanic wastes of Mt. Gelmir. 

Her role wasn’t to heal. It was to see them off. To smile and promise a cure 

People like the Omenkiller Rollo were nothing but mud to her, those who abandoned the path of healer in order to cleanse the impurities of anything untouched by Grace. 

She looked down at her hands. These were healing hands, these hands were meant to be curing the sick and stitching together wounds! Not being an unwilling witness to a death she had no power to stop.

By the time she had rose and wrapped her hand in some bandages, she’d made up her mind.

Not a single one. Not a single one of the Misbegotten under her watch would be allowed to suffer death. Not by battle or by the wicked idea of ‘mercy’ that her compatriots held. 

Some of the Misbegotten lay about, some cooking what meagre food they had in fire pits they had managed to pull together via wooden shields and formic rock.

Subconsciously, she felt the spark aromatics at her belt, unused since her journey west towards Mt. Gelmir. The road was harsh, but her pouches were full, most of the resources within being used for medicines. 

Violence.

The rare chance she had to kill had been shattering. She wasn’t built for war, none of the perfumers were. Many lost their minds to the atrocities they committed during the shattering, becoming Depraved. 

Others began to imbibe too heavily of their medicines, becoming just as broken as those who were affected by their weapons. 

If it was violence that it took to protect the Misbegotten, preserve the little sanctuary they had, deep under the ground, in a Catacomb that was avoided like Rot?

Then she would gladly choose it. 

Her personal Elysium, over the war-torn chaos beyond.

[catcas22]

Prince of Death ch40

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