#lrdvyke

[swcrdstellaris]

Lansseax revered the storms, and relished in them. Divine powers of the Great One calls out to her own, lightnings charge her conductive scales, and great currents of gust propel her, far mightier than any wings. Storms remind her of a long-lost home.

But as another one rolled over Altus raining down hails and torrential rain, the ancient dragon found no solace in it. The Order’s power is waning, she could sense it in the very air; extrinsic forces have now bypassed its domain, manifesting as more violent weather even beneath the Erdtree’s shroud. She knows what happens when chaos takes rein, and dreads it more than anything else.

Still, Lansseax could not suppress a mild grin as familiar footsteps approached the hill she was perched on. How could she? The human race has proven time and time again their resilience amid the harshest trials, their ability to remain pure of heart that sometimes puts the beastmen to shame. And this Knight was a testimonial of that belief.

Her voice was like grating stone limned with a deep growl, unfit for human speech in her natural form, but as soft as can be when she replied to his casual remark, pushing her own looming thoughts back. “-And Greetings to you as well, Ser Vyke. Thou art soaking. Come under my wings should your human shell not wish to have a stormy fever on the morrow.”

@lrdvyke

#lrdvyke #ancient dragon lansseax #※ask

[lyriumwrath]

Is he okay?

@lrdvyke. Sketches.

#lrdvyke #i don't know if you think this is a good representation of him but here ya go i tried #also you made some posts about a hive mind so you know i had to put some crazy nonsense in the bg #idk if i made his hair too wavy either i sorta despise straighter hair so it got away from me a bit #i disappeared for /hours/ to finish this rip me

[dalishborne]

CONTINUED

@lrdvyke

A watcher, letting the events of Thedas pass him by in a comfortable silence. The land chooses a person, places them upon a pedestal to clean the messes of others, before it knocks them down as sure as anything that has grown too big, too fast. Vyke keeps it all in mind, but stays far from it lest he be swept up within the tide of its own change. Ah, but is that not what he is doing now? So close to Skyhold. So close to the very tidal wave, daring it to yank him out to sea ... He stares in that same silence down at the elf ( a Keeper, he thinks to remember ), someone who has been taken within the tides more than he has. There is a faint flicker of amusement that shifts within his pale eyes regardless, as his hands press upon a torn piece of bread until it is flat. ❛ You never asked for it, ❜ he says, a smile to his words despite no smile upon pallid features. A soft voice even if there is no helm now to muffle it. ❛ But I did. See? ❜

Revenelan squinted defiantly at the watcher, meeting his gaze head-on. She held his eyes while she shined a yellow apple against the mossy fabric of her chest, the sunlight catching the moisture on its surface. A sharp crunch echoed through the air as she took a big, hearty bite. The distant flapping of birds dispersing into the sky was the only other sound, creating a moment of suspended silence.

Revenelan eventually relented, breaking the silence. “Fair point,” she nodded, apple chunks bulging in her left cheek. She wagged a finger at the man, as if acknowledging an insightful observation. “I always thought it was more polite to introduce yourself first, you know? It helps establish trust.”

She swallowed the fruit with an audible gulp, wiping her free hand clean on the side of her mossy green robes. Then, with an offering, she extended her hand to the man before her, a Human gesture learned during her time with the Inquisition.

"In any case, my name is Revenelan, of Clan Aravun; I've come to Skyhold with my kinsmen. Well met," she said with a friendly smile and a glint in her honey-brown eyes. She couldn't resist driving her point home. "See? Doesn't that make you feel a little safer?"

#lrdvyke #lrdvyke:vyke #v:inquisition #i am already a superfan of vyke #im getting big softie giant vibes

[beregosts]

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓, gaze openly assessing though not necessarily critical. it'd be brutally hypocritical of her, after all, to look down upon those offering their varied talents for her, though once glance at the man before her assures her that his must be a decidedly unique set of skills. ❛ listen, we're not exactly overflowing with wealth at the moment, ❜ a hand gestures loosely, lazily towards their camp behind them. it isn't worth the attempt to lie. any fool can take one look at them and see their pockets are hardly full, ❛ but if, perhaps, you'd consider some sort of plan whereby you'd be paid in the future we might have a deal? ❜

her gaze flicks to his spear, that odd scar that seems something more cutting through his eye. he's seen battle, he's survived it. ❛ we need every blade we can manage, ❜ her eyes find his, pale and sharp, and there's no sheen to her words, gone is any attempt to convince in favor of the simple truth, ❛ especially blades that have been tested. we'll make it worth your while in the end, i assure you. ❜ @lrdvyke

#lrdvyke #*v : act i. #this is that always sunny meme of 3 grown men not having any money #but its the tadfools and gales eating a boot slightly out of focus in the background #mr lord contender sir we are so very broke

[lordsrot]

"Apart from your calloused and wounded hands. Apart from the mourning of your deaths. No, I know nothing of you." The Lord of Rot confessed from beneath his emotionless mask, bright eyes flickering over the other inquisitively from where he sat.

"Mere nameless figure."

@lrdvyke

#lrdvyke #I HOPE THIS IS OKAY #i left it a lil vague #and any of your verses will work!

[yellowfingcr]

❛ you save everyone, but who saves you? ❜

It must have nicked her somewhere, because the mask that ever comprises Heyel’s expression twitches like opened skin, bleeds warmth like a wound.

“I’m not- no. Haha. No,” she replies amiably, stressing the word, as if he’d placed a sharp edge at her throat, with good cheer and flashing teeth, “No, the precondition behind this thought is wrong, the person behind it wrong. Nonono.”

“Nobody saves me. No one must. It is quite the point. I need to do- I need to do what I intend to do. I’ll die. I know I will. But I’m the best person for it. Don't believe there isn't a selfishness to it. It's why I do it, as a matter of fact. You can see the rot in this, can't you? A decent woman offers her life for others: full stop. I'll happily pay with mine as long as it guarantees my own plan. I pay as long as it's the future I envision. And you among all may not ask what you just asked.”

Vyke the angel whose fall broke the earth and every heart. Vyke blade-bright and dawn-just, whose many actions selfless and not history’s memory condensed into the noose of that single choice around his throat, forever burning tight. Behold the molten mark of evil. Forget his reasons and his life before, forget the long decades of smiles and love and sweetness that moved his every step. Forget the heart, forget the soul. Now there never was a man before the sin. There won't be again.

“Gods, you were magnificent. You were the thing of fairytales. You know well what it means to be the coin that buys the future for someone. So I'll return this question to the sender. You save everyone. Who saves you?”

#lrdvyke #er au #// HAD to do it in a post-three fingers situation... couldn't resist #heysel wakes up super late! she's first generation tarnished but arrives when the party is almost over #so I am Thinking. Concocting. A very specific verse for You if you want to see my wares #also because he's the one that turned mad flame into a tool- tool that she uses! and I'd love to touch on that #anyway! I ramble! what if we were outsiders to the context we live in and both picked love as the determinant force behind our ruin

[uruking]

in the tarnished defense , the chief had gotten the jump on him. pale hide blends seamlessly into the snow , && many years atop the mountains have proved azog a formidable beast. the man didn't sense him until the demi human was already upon him ; fanged maw closing over a helmed head , teeth denting into the metal , a last defense keeping from collapsing his skull. back && forth the beast shook him , finally releasing in a mighty throw that sends the tarnished crashing into the ice. perhaps the thing was already quite weary from his travel ( combined with a strong knock to the head ) he resists very little as azog drags him down into the cave , out of the blinding white && into an all consuming dark.

they're not sure exactly when @lrdvyke awakens ; the tribe having busied themselves with pulling && picking at his armor , searching for trinkets or shinies they may like to keep for themselves. azog , however , has no interest in such things ― instead sniffing cautiously , curiously at the stranger. snout wrinkles at the scent ; fire , above all else. a rich , smoky smell that clings to the man's flesh. how strange ...

#IC . #V : ELDEN RING . #*sniff sniff sniff* stinky ... #lrdvyke

[smouldring]

@lrdvyke / cold

She and Melina have grown closer since leaving Leyndell for the north. She'd been so worried that she and her Maiden would no longer see eye-to-eye, but the opposite had turned out to be true; they speak more often than ever. At every Site of Grace she rests at, her companion comes to her, speaking softly of what they've seen and what she makes of it. Merri, a surprisingly good listener, will rest her head in the other woman's lap and drift off to the sound of her voice. Their journey is nearly at an end, she knows. Whatever Melina is searching for, it's here. She just hopes that, once it's over, they can remain friends.

Her boots crunch over the snow, though the prints are immediately hidden as more falls. She calls upon the wolves more and more to guide her, trusting their noses to lead the way. It's one of them that alerts her to the coming danger, a moment before a red bolt reduces it back to ash. "Huh?! HEY!" She draws both rapiers, leaping backwards and looking about frantically for the source of the strike.

#lrdvyke #✢ verse: emboldened by flame. #✢ thread. #|| merri submitting an apology like im sorry for trying to become elden lord. #|| in my defense i did not intend to.

[bladewarde]

" we're surrounded by those who would like to see us dead. " / @lrdvyke

When Vyke chooses not to descend from the sky on the back of an ancient dragon, Laera anticipates Vyke to be in a mood more agreeable to sitting still than facing down the people who oppose him. She wonders about that: Where does Lanseax take him? What does he do when they're not clashing blades to test their mettle…? These silent thoughts have been kept to herself, watching him disappear far into the mountains until she can no longer make out his shape.

Laera attempts to hide in golden grasses, lying amongst the itchy foliage that smells oddly sweet; her skin uncomfortably slick with sweat after the brutal thrashing Vyke utterly disarmed her with. In truth, she was unprepared; but the ferocity in which he met her, even in their mock battle, foretold of something lingering under the surface of his conscious.

Against the rays of the Erdtree, he is an indiscernible shape sitting next to her, silent, until he vocalises a sliver of his private thoughts. She stares at his back, quietly contemplating his words before she speaks again. ❝ I wonder about you, Vyke… ❞ Laera says after a belated pause, ❝ Do you think flying around on a dragon's back makes you less of a target? ❞

#lrdvyke #❛ 𝒊𝒄. / ic answers. #❛ 𝒗. / elden ring. #imagine everything kicking off like... a week after this conversation LOL #'haha im never going to see u again. <3'

[enypneon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 under the plain pressure of his palm, moving his folded fingers ACROSS the skin in the same motion as a saw after the loaf's first break. before it turns to dust though, cynrik stretches his arm to feed a few guillemots passing by.

he may NOT be able to offer the refuge they seek but he can help them endure their journey for a little longer.

a greater distance ahead of them lies an obstacle for cynrik to overcome, yet his first attempt has been in vain and he was forced to retreat all BATTERED and BRUISED. under his breath, he mutters a concoction of words pressing his thumb on one particular contusion, rich in colour and nearly embracing the whole of his lower arm. putting so much weight into the touch that the skin turns pale where the thumb traces and while he speaks the bruise moves. a sea of burst blood vessels evening out with every stroke; waves turn into gentle tides and eventually, it has DISAPPEARED entirely.

cynrik's energy wanes and his body goes limp. the fight prior has taken its toll on him and he should consider some rest ─ instead, he shifts back on his feet and rises to full height again. the crimson fog is a shadow CLOAKING his mind, it is like a sling tight around his forehead which pulls cynrik to the ground with more urgency than ever since he arrived in caelid. his gaze anchors his position with a look at the divine tower, it is unmoving ─ he is not sinking.

» have you considered travelling together? the offer still stands. although a friendly SURPRISE along my walk will always be a welcomed one. « @lrdvyke and cynrik may have different goals at the end of their journey but their fates seem to be intertwined in a way yet unknown. this must be the second or third time they've crossed paths. » you are a friendly surprise, are you not? «

#HERE YOU GO ! hope this is alright 🤗 #best thing is we don't have a clue what awaits them either! >:D #° › CYNRIK ‹ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 * interactions with ╲ VYKE . #narrative:cynrik. #lrdvyke

[dalishborne]

❛ what are you doing out here by yourself? ❜

Revenelan’s shoulders jumped, startled. In an instant, she inhaled sharply, the smoke from her tobacco pipe abruptly hitting the back of her throat. Before she could even chance a glance at the man whose silent arrival had jolted her from her thoughts, she was bent over, sputtering into the crook of her arm in a coughing fit, desperate to relinquish the dry burn that suddenly stole her breath. After a minute, her heaving seemed to subside, and she turned to meet Vyke’s gaze with glassy eyes, her nose reddened, with tear-stained cheeks glistening in the moonlight.

“Vyke,” Revenelan cleared her throat, and pointed at the mage with the thin-end of her pipe, his pale face stark against the starry sky above. “Do you remember that bell Dorian mentioned, the one he said he would tie to you, to give us some semblance of a warning for when you do your–“ She made circular motions in the air with her pipe, unable to find the words for Vyke’s tendency to, literally and without notice, roll headfirst into danger. A testament to his stealth, at the cost of his companion’s peace of mind. “–thing. That is happening first thing in the morn, Creators so help me.”

Looking past Vyke, Revenelan spotted an Inqsuition soldier in the distance, poking her head out from one of the encampment’s tends to assess the noise, her hair dishevelled from sleep. Revenelan simply offered an affirming thumbs-up, and the soldier nodded drowsily, likely retreating back to her bedroll.

With a short sigh, Revenelan inspected the bowl of her pipe and tapped out the top layer of grey ash. The absence of embers beneath suggested that there was little left to enjoy anyway, which worked in her favour. It wasn’t a habit she was particularly fond of, and rarely ever partook in the company of others; at most, it was something that gave her pause on quiet nights like these, slowing down the endless, racing thoughts that stole her rest.

“I was having difficulty falling asleep, so I sent Hila back and took over for her shift as the night-watch,” Revenelan finally answered, her arms disappearing beneath the thick, muted purple shawl she draped around herself, which was decorated with intricate, rustic patterns. “Same for you, I assume? Now that I think of it, I don’t think I have seen you sleep, ever.” 

#rusty writing is rusty lol #lrdvyke:vyke #lrdvyke #v:inquisition.

[celestialheal-arch]

she finds him in the middle of what appears to be a fresh battlefield, the sole survivor of a brutal attack. he's clad in armor for head to toe, but he moves, his chest still breathes, he is clearly alive. she lowers herself next to him and tries to disrobe him only to find a disfigured figure under the helmet: burnt skin, eyes like flames. she gaps at the sight, but quickly deducing the wounds are not product of the recent fight she goes back to try to heal him. ❝ sir, can you hear me? ❞

@lrdvyke liked for a starter.

#* thread ! #008. with vyke ( lrdvyke ) #hi max! i don't know a thing about elden ring but i wanted to try this anyways #please let me know if any of this makes sense or I need to change it

[yellowfingcr]

@lrdvyke / continued from [ x ]

"Wh- at most?"

A comedian's purposeful pause. Heysel looks at him. Left, right, looking for the support of an imaginary public. As if his only presence wasn't worth thousands. Because the man before herself is the knight Vyke, sanctified by purpose, gilded in strength- and she is chucking jokes at him. Well then.

"You don't think I'm scary. This is what you're telling me. Thy wise gaze you have lain upon my face and thought: nay. This one is not so."

Truthfully she had half a mind to instead say: I wear the killing leathers of a Sellian sanctioned murderer, and countless have cursed my name in horror and frightened awe. But gods above the conversation had began with amusement on his face, and she won't let the course steer away from that if possible.

"Well. If that is your opinion, I guess at most the number is six."

#lrdvyke #er au #// heysel's timeline makes it hard for them to meet in his main verse but is this stopping me? absolutely not

[smouldring]

“Maybe one life is enough.” ( c: )

She doesn't quite understand, but she's in the business of not understanding. Still, as she considers it, she feels her stomach begin to knot. One life. At first, she thinks literally, as she always does: she has lived far more than one life. Hardly a day goes by where she doesn't die, only to wake, no longer gasping, no longer afraid, at the last Site of Grace she rested at. It's become the norm. She treats her body so carelessly. Frost and poison and rot and more blood than anyone could begin to quantify, she lets it all take her with cheery recklessness. It's normal, for her. It's normal, because she does not remember the first time.

Not the first time after the tomb. That, she recalls clearly. She'd been so scared, hating that floating, slippery feeling that had come over her as the strength left her body. The mind-numbing terror that had gripped her at the very last minute still comes to her, sometimes. And never when she's in danger; it's when she's walking quietly in the woods or by the lake that she remembers, and panics, and swings her sword wildly to ward off anything that might come near, frothing and screaming until she burns out and gets her limbs back under control. A tantrum, Gideon called it. She doesn't know that she likes that word, tantrum.

Gideon doesn't know -- this stranger doesn't know -- that there is a fear deeper than that which drives her to lash and foam and writhe in the grass. The fear of Before the Tomb. Before Varré, Torrent, and Melina. Before Merrimac. A life she had presumably lived, and lost. It stalks her, clinging to her heels like a shadow, begging to be let in. To take her skin, like Godrick, or the Apostles. She hurls it as far from herself as she can, and it always lands at her feet. Challenging her. She is a wolf, and she is afraid, because the thing that hunts her relentlessly is not an animal, or a Lord she can fell, or even a god. It is a human. It is her other self. Her life, forgotten.

"This one is mine," she declares, more defensively than intended. "It's-- it's mine."

#lrdvyke #✢ verse: emboldened by flame.

[lordsrot]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

LOVE AS RELIGION Devotion, that is the name of your love. Your love is an act of worship. Your love is like witnessing the birth of Venus, like seeing the sun come alive, or the stars fall. When you love, it is because you have found God in a lover. You have found the meaning of life itself in the heart of the one you adore. They are everything to you; they are your Maker, and you are their lamb, their flock, their first and holiest worshipper. When you fall in love, it is as a baptism. You are born anew, made a believer in the divinity of the one you love most. Being loved by you is an ascension; it is holy and golden. It is all-consuming, and all-faithful, loyal as the dog. You will never, ever bite back.

tagged by: i can't recall tagging: @lrdvyke @ladysbloom @dweomerr ( lei ) @beregosts , and YOU

#nods #yeah this makes sense #˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 ◞ meta .

[enypneon]

𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME : yasemin / jasmin / şenay (shehnai) ─ there's no preference honestly, i love all three of them equally.

PRONOUNS : she/her.

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : discord, although ims is fine as well. i used to prefer discord and it is still more comfortable for me to read/write things there but i won't ignore you or urge you to add me on discord when we talk here.

NAME OF MUSE(S) : thyme, anouar, evren, lucien, foenix, rawiya, hands, slavoj, songbird, nero, cynrik, rude, vincent, heimdall, thanatos and olgierd <3

BEST EXPERIENCE : when i meet new friends! finding people whose ooc chats end up bigger than all the threads we have combined asdfds because of my schedule it's hard for me to develop dynamics naturally over threads. my time is often limited and i get the best inspo from our ooc gushing and planning their world domination.

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : excluding ocs from your interactions. to this day i don't understand where this preference comes from. some canon characters used to be original as well? until they become part of the canon.

MUSE PREFERENCES : oh they must have a speck of horror or mystery about them. i'm usually not drawn to the overly sweet ones (without any bitterness to them)? it's not that i actively dismiss them, i just have a hard(er) time portraying them/thinking like them?

PLOTS OR MEMES : plots for something long-term and memes for ice breakers or as a snippet into another reality/scenario. both are appreciated and valid in their own ways!

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : long and short are fine with me! though i just physically can't continue one-liners, they never stay one-liners ─ i can't even start them as one-liners i just end up writing more anyway.

BEST TIME TO WRITE : phew that's a tough one ... i believe i usually get more things done in the morning. when the dash is quiet and my mind is not yet tired out. in the evening i tend to get distracted easily by everything but my drafts.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : hA ... nooooooo ... i mean i don't think so. perhaps some pieces are kinda like me, in some way, i must relate to them one way or another, i guess.

tagged by: @sungracd (thank you so much!! 🥰✨) tagging: @mindsmade / @zendatsu / @valkyrd / @blitzrod / @devotedhero / @lasraichean / @volegne / @saintsdawn / @demonstigma / @goldenfists / @spakona / @linament / @amcryllis / @prvtocol / @asteritm / @torntruth / @vilestblood / @lrdvyke / @crue11 / @moonsworn & any other mutual who'd love to do this ─ feel free to tag me :)c

#now you guys know me a little better ;D💕 #° › DASHGAMES ‹ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 * choose your fighter ╲ MUN .