#revolter

[shaeiki]

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Revolter | 125, Rue Montmartre

[dishonoredrpg]

NAME: UTP AGE: 25+ ALLEGIANCE AND OCCUPATION: Revolter, forgemaster & blacksmith ABILITIES: N/A PRONOUNS: UTP FACECLAIM SUGGESTIONS: Santiago Cabrera, Yetide Badaki, Kofi Siriboe, Devery Jacobs

HISTORY.

Your father always said that you and your twin were born to make something. It might have been idealistic nonsense, his line of thinking, given that he’d crafted weaponry and armor for Septimus, and Septimus’ father, and his father before him. You’re sure that at the end of the day he was only really interested in a legacy, and told you the tales he did to inspire something in you. But you took them to heart. When you are young you both work as his most important apprentices, picking up the others’ slack when one fails. You shape iron and warp steel into blades, arrows, shields, pieces of armor, full sets by as young as fifteen. Your sibling is not as fast but the care they put in speaks for itself; it doesn’t take long for the two of you to garner reputation by word of mouth. You will be your father’s heirs, forgemasters both, when he meets his end -- they’re sure of it. You, young fool that you are, dream of it. Oh, the things you could pull from flame, you think, staring at your very first blade dangling above your head. Your twin dreams of it, too, and when the day comes, and your father does pass -- he’d been an old soldier, had slipped away in his sleep just past your twenty-first -- the position... is given to you. Only you. (You can remember the look on Septimus’ face when he’d said it, the sadistic glee he must have felt in separating the two people in Castle Tyrholm who have been together from the moment they took their first breath.) Whatever closeness you and your sibling have felt your entire life is cleaved, right in two, then and there. But you’re a child, stupid, and so you let it be. You tell them not to hold a grudge, assume that the pain will eventually patch itself over, and get to work.

You put your head down and do what is asked of you and soon your days and nights are filled with smoke, the taste of ash on your tongue, embers caught in your hair that you only sometimes manage to put out. The pain never patches itself. In your sibling, it festers, like an infected wound, and with the infection comes separation, something you’ll never forgive yourself for. All those years you spent working, covering yourself in burns and paying no mind to the world around you, so absorbed in your craft, they’d been planning, and you’d never even known. You don’t find out what until it’s too late -- they come to you, dagger in hand, and inform you that they’re going to kill him. You try to stop them, plead with them, tell them what they already know: this is madness, you’ll fail, what will I do without you? You wish you’d done more. In the morning you are dragged from your forge without warning or explanation, although you know why, and Septimus, a cruel and petty king, cuts your left eye out. No words are exchanged; the physical warning is enough. The pain is so great that consciousness fails you entirely. When you finally wake, groggy and mouth full of metal, your world has changed. You never saw the body, but you know your sibling is dead, and you are suddenly made to hearken back to your youth. What your father said is true: you were born to create. In your chest there is not a beating organ, keeping time with the rest of you, but a hammer pounding against an anvil. You put your fingers to your pulse and feel it thrum. It’s a reminder that you are still alive. In the wake of your grief, you are reborn, and from your rebirth you will create the rebellion the likes of Septimus and his dogs have never seen before. You’ll make every axe, every helm, every dagger -- so long as at least one of your pieces tastes his blood, you’ll do it happily.

CONNECTIONS.

JUSTICE: It would’ve been them, surely. No other member of the court trails after Septimus in the way Justice does. No one sits quite so quickly when he commands it -- it is as though they are tuned into the man’s whims before even His Highness knows it. You can think of no other person to be the one who ended your twin’s life. Do they know the weight of the flesh they have cut from you? Does guilt stalk after them, licking at their heels, begging for scraps? When you see them in the corridors all you can feel is anger, the red-hot burn of it, like you’ve stuck your whole head right into the flames and let them eat away at you. You want to ask if they did it, but they don’t so much as bother to give you the time of day, nor a lick of attention. The time will come where you’ll wheedle answers out of them, you’re sure, and you can only hope you’ll have the restraint not to kill them if they say what you think they will.

THE HIGH PRIESTESS: She’d been the first to see you, after the death of your sibling and the loss of your eye, and in that moment, there had been a real connection. A fallible one, so close you could touch it. You’d known, without exchanging words, what you’d needed to do, and then and there, a deal was struck. She visits the smithy from time to time and watches you craft, gives you details and new locations to hide what you make so that it’s easily accessible to those who need it and out of reach for those that don’t. In her you think there is a real chance at Septimus meeting his end. You don’t much care for who ends up on the throne, or power-mongering, like she does. You just want the man dead, and if she wants you to provide the means to do so in the event of some catastrophic uprising, she won’t have to ask twice.

THE TOWER: In them you see a coward -- and this is a recent development, because at one time you’d considered them a friend. You’d thought them interesting, and they’d been interested in you, coming to look over your work with innate curiosity you can only see now as greed. They’d asked all sorts of questions about your craft, how long it took, your skill, your capability. Maybe you were a naive idiot for believing any of it had been genuine, because now you can see it for what it surely is: babysitting. Watching over you to ensure you don’t toe the line after the loss of your eye. They still visit, of course, hands crossed behind their back, but you have to question each and every word they say, and it’s become exhausting. You cannot afford to slip up, and give anything away, you know that, but you worry it’s a matter of who wins out first.

NINE OF WANDS IS CURRENTLY OPEN.

[sodapopaquarium]

notre vie est un voyage dans l'hiver et dans la nuit nous cherchons notre passage dans le ciel ou rien ne luit

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running at night

[claytonbartonart]

When it comes to narrating ultra-in-depth, Comic Art Workshops over multiple hours – some day’s I’ve got it… and some days I don’t… and today for some reason I couldn’t even string together a sentence. 😓 Weird huh? Especially since yesterday I somehow managed to knock out a 4 hour long class on drafting, refining and rendering hair! Maybe I’ve used up all my narrating mojo for the week in one fell swoop... Luckily my ability to draw is a little more consistent. So I gave the talk-overs a rest for today and decided to instead, wrap up on these pre-made illustrations of E, for the Shadowing and Rendering Workshop I’ve got planned for the "Character Creator Course". As you can see though, they're still missing the very thing this particular lesson will focus on - Shadowing and Rendering! That's because I'm still chugging my way toward this Workshop - where I'll give you the full lowdown on all you need to know about rendering different materials - and it's sure to be a doozy! Now... I've written up a much longer article for this piece over at the ol' HTDC Blog: https://www.howtodrawcomics.net/single-post/2017/06/21/Some-Days-Ive-Got-It-And-Some-Days-I-Dont-Character-Creator-Course-Update- Where I'll reveal a bit more behind the scenes action on the "Character Creator Course: How Create Female Characters". (I know you don't have all day to sit around reading my extra-ordinarily lengthy statuses -- so I'm migrating them over to the site where they belong... For those who are extra keen to keep up to speed on all that's been happening with the course)... Hope you enjoy the pic - always a pleasure drawing up this bad-ass babe. -Clayton

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