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#empires the ancient capital
silverskye13 · 2 years
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"Do you believe in the gods, Pix?"
The archeologist chuckles, and continues adjusting measurements on his hologram projector. "You trying to convert me, Joel?"
The god of Stratos waves his hand dismissively, and though Pix isn't looking at his face, he can almost feel an the eye roll as clouds briefly wink over the sun. "Obviously you believe in me. If you didn't, we wouldn't be talking right now."
"Ah."
"I mean the old ones. You know." Joel waves a hand vaguely the direction of the ruined capital. "The absent ones."
Pix pauses in his work to turn and look past the bridge. The burnished gold of the tip of one of the angel's wings is all he can see over the hillside gates, but he knows the goddess is there. He memorized every curve and angle of that monument when he'd found it. It was... An impressive statue. He turns back to his projector and keys in a few more measurements, trying to get the height of the road just right.
"I don't know."
"Oh. Well I suppose you wouldn't." Joel shrugs at Pix's questioning glance. "You're human."
There is a moment where they're silent. Pix works keys a few buttons, adjusting the placement of his projection, and Joel watches, arms crossed like a sentinel. He doesn't help Pix. Not really. Joel isn't really that kind of god. He bestows gifts and blessings, but he reserves his hands for his people and his whims. But Pix didn't invite the god here to build. He doesn't mind reconstructing this old capital by himself. Joel does, however, grunt disapprovingly every time Pix places the structure wrong, and flick his eyes a little to the left, and Pix takes the hint and adjusts the hologram in that direction.
"You wanna know what I think?" Pix says, setting the hologram in its final place and taking a few steps back to observe it.
"You think?" The god chuckles, and when he does, distant thunder rumbles.
"I think more than you."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"I think worshipping the world is the closest we can get to an omniscient god." Pix finishes the thought before they can devolve into ribbing each other. It's fun to bicker with Joel, but that's not where Pix is going with this conversation.
Joel cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. "You don't think I'm omniscient?"
"Would you ask me this stuff if you were, oh all-knowing god of storms and things?"
"Sky god," Joel corrected. "Touché, little history man. So, you worship the world, then?"
"Everything we do leaves a footprint," Pix tells him. He adjusts his hologram just a bit to the left again. Joel nods at him almost unconsciously. Pix stops fiddling and starts playing shulkers, preparing to build. He's going to finish this bridge today. "The earth records these footprints. It's the nature of things that change, that they hold impressions of what changed them."
Pix gestures to the rock slide that cuts off one side of his hologram. "This gate used to carve right through this hill. Even though this side has collapsed, and erosion has eaten the side, beneath that rubble, there are cobblestones someone laid by hand. Maybe they were slaves, or skilled craftsman, but regardless they existed. The lived a full life, whatever that meant for them, they spoke to people they loved, ate their favorite foods when they were sad, and one day, they died. Bones turn to dust, epitaphs fade, but that builder's hands still touched those cobblestones."
The god of Stratos watches the hologram with a new and open curiosity. He reaches out a massive hand and places it gently on the particles of light, as though he could touch the recreation. Instead, his fingers dip through the projection, making long flickering shadows in the light field, distorting the image like rain on a glassy lake. It's almost comical watching the massive god be so gentle and reverent, especially over something so inconsequential as a bridge piece.
"So is this how you worship the world, then?" Joel asks quietly. "By helping it remember what it's forgotten?"
There is something loaded in the words. Pix looks up at the god, and he remembers signs underneath a floating city as citizens gently remind their god they love him, and they need him. He thinks of temples to gods whose names have passed out of history, floating amidst a living city made by a god who has no temple built. Not yet.
Pix doesn't know what to say, so he opts to say nothing, instead reverently laying out his tools on the bridge like precious gifts on an altar. The two don't talk. Pix begins laying stones for a new foundation, and Joel watches thoughtfully, not seeing the world in front of him. They finish the bridge.
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valoisfulcanellideux · 3 months
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These Stones Remember - cover reveal
A few days ago I posted the full title and cover reveal for my upcoming Pixlriffs-centric (Copper King & Phantom Assassin) story, A Tale of Two Devotions. That beautiful artwork was commissioned from the amazing Sabira | @floweroflaurelin and at the end of the post I mentioned that I had one other commission currently sitting with them.
Well, that commission is now complete, and ready to share with you.
It's the cover for my 178,000-word fic These Stones Remember, and I'll admit that seeing this final image got me feeling incredibly emotional. There may or may not have been tears shed. There were. Oh heck, there were.
So here it is:
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I spent almost a year of my life writing These Stones Remember, and Sabira has more than done justice to these characters and this world. The Copper King, Onorait Paix al-Lareiff. His 2,000-year-old present-day version, Pix al-Lareiff. His devoted and faithful Chaperone, Mhenheli al-Q'isaraf. His adorable little soul companion kitty, Malin. And the Vigil and the Statue, and so many other tiny little details that you probably won't even realise have been inserted into the illustration unless you've read the story.
To say that I'm thrilled with this cover would be the understatement of the year. (I know this year is still young, so let's include last year, too!) It was a delight to work with Sabira, and to see the in-progress sketches and eventually this final render, with the beautiful hand typography for the title.
And, if the cover has piqued your interest but you've not yet read the story? Welp, here's a taxi to some sweeping ancient history :)
"The past changes a little every time we retell it." A wandering scholar and his ethereal companion find a long-abandoned treasure. At first glance he thinks has simply stumbled upon a ruined ancient capital, filled with the promise of incredible archaeological treasures and riven through with the history of a long-dead civilisation. But when he wakes up one day and finds the city has come alive around him, its people bowing to him as though they know and respect him, he has unknowingly begun a journey toward redemption for a terrible mistake he made two thousand years ago.
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Oli, seeing his base gone: My base has been eroded and lost to time and the elements of nature entirely! Woe is me!
Pix, having uprooted the entire damn thing from the beach and moved it to the Museum because he was scared Oli would tear it down:
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thesilicontribesman · 24 days
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The Lower Half of a Corinthian Column Capital
The largest capital found in Britain to date, from the Corinium Basilica, Corinium Museum, Cirencester. The column was about 13 metres in height.
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seth-kia · 1 year
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Pixlriffs sees the world as it used to be.
At first, he's nothing special. The archeologist's guild relocates him to the Ancient Capital, where he sits for hours in the blistering heat, hikes across hills and cliffs and mountains, even delves into caves armed only with a torch and feeble sword--he's a historian, not a mercenary--to catalog a massive diamond-infested ribcage the neighboring Sheriff discovered during his spelunking trip.
He mines and farms to keep his little patchy settlement alive. He brushes fossils and restores paintings and is careful, so careful, with the crumbling stone and the withering grass. He does his job, and his research, and does his best to restore the past with gentle hands.
Perhaps it is his gentleness that gifts him the visions.
His hand brushes through the rising columns of houses made from basalt and deepslate, through the walls as if he's the ghost. It's disorienting, at first, to reach out and be met with nothing. He calls it a vision, because it's far too vivid to be a mirage, and he does his best to ignore it.
But something about the ruins haunts him while he tries to work. Something stirs in his heart as he watches the walls flicker and shift, and he feels… he feels longing, deep in his ribs.
Maybe that's why, the next day, he picks up his tools and gets to work.
Pixl knows what his job is. Preserve, restore, discover, record. This isn't what the guild authorized.
But the instinct to bring the vision to life, to put it where it belongs, is insistent.
Building, as it turns out, is much more difficult than restoring. He gets the hang of it, though, and the blueprints that he sees each time he blinks are helpful, if maddening. The itch in his ears is resolved once the ruins are no longer cobbled, and the frame of a long-destroyed home is returned.
He knows his strengths, though. It's not returned to its former glory. But the house is once again standing where it belongs, and it fills him with awe and longing and emotions he can't even begin to describe.
It's only a house, but it's inexplicably, indescribably right for it to sit on the crest of that hill, nestled between his wheat and the slowly wearing path to the campfire.
He brought it back from the past. He brought something back to life. He feels warm, like peace has settled into his stomach and given him time to rest, and to work.
The next time he sees something that isn't there, the peace is obliterated, and he is filled with apprehension.
There is no way he could build that.
The bridge spans for miles upon miles. It is absolutely massive, with twelve towers digging deep into the river, and it screams to be a symbol of pride, of honor, of unity. It is regal, tall, brilliant. He is washed in awe to bear witness, but he knows his limits.
He's just an archeologist. He can't do that.
So Pix tries ignoring it.
He spends the day working, getting his hands dirty. It's easy to turn his back on the vision in the distance, while the sun is high. He focuses on the discovery of the catacombs, of trading with the other… 'rulers', they call themselves, expanding his area.
The night is a different story.
Pix is a light sleeper. He tosses and turns on a good night. But he can't close his eyes, and he can't stop thinking about the bridge. His muscles still ache just from the little house across his field.
He tries to reassure himself--maybe it's a mirage. Go to sleep, Pix. Everything will be normal in the morning.
When the voices speak, he thinks he's lost his mind.
It is a big thing to undertake, but we are with you.
"Who?" he starts, choking on his saliva and nearly landing on the floor beside his bed.
The Great Bridge must be build again, they whisper, low and conspiratorial and ageless, and you, with your gentle hands, and your fire, are the one to do so.
"I… who are you?"
The voices don't answer.
There are voices in his head. He's losing it.
He thinks. He clings to the sheets of his cot, and he prays to whoever is listening that he's not going just as crazy as whatever Joel has going on.
"I can't do that," he says, hushed and bewildered. "I'm… I'm just a man, I can't do that."
Heroes like to say that, they whisper sadly. But do not fear. We are with you.
The vision fills his mind once again. The Great Bridge, miles above the sea level from where it once was, in glory and in greatness.
A symbol of unity.
"Okay," he says, voice small. "I'll… I'll try."
After that, he loses time.
He remembers his knees scraping against sharp stone and getting soaked from falling into the river several times. He remembers calloused palms and burning skin. He remembers building. Working.
He's good at that. Working.
When he feels himself again, he is kneeling, covered in dust, with bloody knees and aching hands, in the center of a bridge a million times his size, and he feels like the world has woken up.
There are voices in his ears, cheering to him. He is laughing, helpless.
This is what he was made for. Restoration. This, the thing he's collapsed on top of, this is history.
He doesn't know how long he stays there, kneeling on the bridge. Someone swoops by and asks if he's alright, and he answers yes, feeling light. He's never been better, he says.
They fly away rather quickly, but he hears their elytra spiral around the bridge for many seconds before it fades into the distance.
Hero, the voices whisper. We are with you.
He goes home, and he sleeps for three days, and then everything goes back to normal. He tends to the wheat and the cows and the froglights. He eats, and cleans his bloodied knees, and speaks with the rulers, and trades.
He is complimented on the bridge for weeks after. Even Joel, the eleven-foot god, stops by to leave a small floating bedroom in one of the towers. The rulers seem to have accepted him in their world, and he feels the stories move along around him. The blueprints are gone from behind his eyelids, now that he sees the true buildings before him every day.
The next vision is different.
Pix wakes up, in the middle of the night, forced out of his bed by something akin to fear, to anxiety. It stirs in him, pulses and ties his stomach to knots, and his gaze is frantic as he tries to discover the perceived threat.
His eyes land upon a statue that certainly wasn't there when he went to sleep.
There is a woman.
She towers. She is strong, in all but the material that builds her; she is love, she is strength, she is mothering kindness, and she is light, in everything, she is light.
She holds a sword, but her arms are open. Her hair is long, in waves; and behind her spreads wings, and behind her still a circlet of gold like the sun behind her.
Santa Perla, the voices whisper, and they ache equally with longing and joy.
When his gaze meets hers, the fear calms.
Santa Perla.
The night is high, and the air is cold, and the monsters are angrier than most, but he picks up a shulker, and he works.
Pix remembers the moment before, when her gaze is locked on him, melancholic and ageless. And he remembers the moment after, when she stands tall, in glory, looking to the horizon, gracing the land with light.
His fingers are bleeding from the stone, his eyes are dry and his stomach is howling and the sun is setting, but the peace fills him and he can't stop smiling.
She has returned, he thinks, and it is right.
"Are you there?" he asks the voices, once he's brushed the final dust from the stone. "I did it. She's back."
We are with you, they whisper. The air around him shimmers, cool against his burning skin. We are grateful.
He laughs, breathless and achy. "What's next?"
Wait, hero. You have served us well. Rest, and we will return.
"I'm no hero," he says, and is met only with silence.
It continues. The gates are shaky in his mind, like a mirage in the desert. The museum grows to be a constant, the voices murmuring soft in his head as he adds history into reality. The castle, oh, the castle, it is bigger than he could ever imagine.
But the bridge was just as big, and the voices just as strong. Hero, they call him, and he finds the word fits on his shoulders.
So he puts down his feet and he gets to work.
He builds and discovers history as he creates it. With every piece he restores, he stills the stirring in his chest, and he feels more like himself.
He works, and he grows, and he learns. He is called hero and he is called king.
Pixlriffs sees the past as reality, and he brings it all back to life.
ao3 link here, inspired by @darubyprincxx and their post on pix's lightmatica wristband actually being visions. i love my prophet!pix headcanons. sue me.
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m0ther-of-p3arl · 1 year
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insomniaruler · 5 months
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At this point the fact that I’m not over Empires s1 & s2 pixlriffs should be checked out by a professional…
BUT LIKE WHAT HAPPENED TO THE COPPER KING????? DID HE DIE OUT IN THE DESERT??? DID HE GO HOME???? DOES HE RETURN HOME TO A RUINED LAND AND NO FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY ALL FLED/DIED?????????
IS HE THE ARCHEOLOGIST??????? IS HE IMMORTAL??????? DID HE HIDE FOR A MILLENNIA AND THEN NEVER ACTUALLY RETURN BACK TO PIXANDRIA BUT STILL FIND HIMSELF SURROUNDED BY COPPER AND THE REMNANTS OF HIS PEOPLE????????
DOES DEATH HATE HIM????? WHY WAS HE SENT BACK AS A GHOST?????? AND THE FINALE- DID THE ARCHAEOLOGIST FADE AND FINALLY ACTUALLY DIE, FINDING HIS OLD FRIENDS & HIS PEOPLE ON THE OTHER SIDE??????
(Anyway…. I miss the copper king and I miss empires fan theories a totally normal amount)
The copper king :(
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darubyprincx · 1 year
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pixl got the last revealing potion from joel, huh? who wants to bet that'll be plot relevant later in the season
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In Jimmy most recent episode, when they're going around the circle and Jimmy is all like 'Aya you're not in a cult,' Scots goes "Yeah, Not anymore."
Scott. Scott smajor. What do you mean not anymore??
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flowerflamestars · 8 months
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Effloresce snippet
Amren shoved the torch his way. “I will not break the protections on this city,” she paced forward, deceptively delicate hands flat to smoothed stone, before curling to dig right in, “Not with war coming. But I won’t make things worse either.” The wall did not open, it fractured. On crack, a hundred, a thousand webbing out in silver light, swept away into nothing. Her brisk steps changed in sound- worn stone to sharp clicking tile, and Cassian swallowed. Raised the torch, and tried to understand what he was seeing. The hollowed heart of the watching mountain, a blue-tiled temple, strung in glass, in gemstone, murals shining overheard further than he could see. Blue on blue on blue, every shade of sky. Amren simply waved her hand, cobwebs and dust incinerated in a flash that left his eyes dazzled. When he could blink, it had not changed. “This is,” Cassian couldn’t finish the words. The thought. “I have been alive,” Amren kicked at something that chimed back, the soft sound of water echoing. Carrying, sudden luminesce growing as it poured to fill channels in the floor, to drip down pathways, liquid blued sunlight, “Since before the Court of Night was even an idea. Before this city was built up from an old bedrock of blood. Eons before I was meant to handhold a High Lord hellbent on ruining all that came before.” Cassian swallowed. “So this is”- “What you see in Nesta Archeron’s eyes, I imagine,” Amren purred, before turning to grin, catlike and terrible. “Magic. Temporarily contained.” “Whose magic?” Cassian didn’t need the answer, but he had to hear it. Had to- blue on blue on blue only where it was not overlaid with wings in a hundred dark colors, the ever-giving sky alit in the ever-giving miracle of life. Wind, water, and light.
He had never seen an Illyrian temple- they did not exist now- but something in him recognized the call all the same.
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mchatter · 11 months
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I just finished watching Pix's empires s2 finale and...wow. That was it, that was the sendoff. Beautifully done, wonderful story, gorgeous builds, and a tour of the world with a theory on where it all came from. If you haven't watched, I implore you to. It feels almost important that all the fans see this final bow to the series
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valoisfulcanellideux · 3 months
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So yesterday's post was mostly me gushing about this beautiful commission from @floweroflaurelin for These Stones Remember, and I only realised after the fact that embedding it in the middle of a text post meant that it was:
too small for many of the details to be appreciated
hidden for those who have 'collapse long posts' enabled on their dash
So I'm posting it again, but this time it's actually an image post in its own right. And - because I am NOT OVER THIS - I want to go into detail about, well... the details.
This is going to make most sense for people who have already read These Stones Remember, but maybe other Pix peeps will find something in it, too.
So let's go behind the cut, and look at some of those details, because boy did Sabira include some lovely little nods to the story! (Warning: There may be spoilers.)
The light of the Vigil
Not only does the warmth of the Vigil's light reflect from each character (with the exception of Malin, because they're already lit from within by their own soul light) but she also reaches out to touch each character with those tendrils of light emanating from her spire. And in the story Paix becomes the living embodiment of the Vigil once the Great Caravan leaves the ruin of Paixandria, so the Vigil truly does touch every person he comes into contact with.
Malin's 'soul energy trail'
Malin (for those who haven't read the story) is Pix's ethereal cat companion, who is made of soul energy from the gratitude of everyone Paix/Pix has guided or helped in some way over the course of 2,000 years. But Malin is not only a companion; they are also a protector and guardian of their eternal/immortal friend. Thus the trail of 'soul energy' that emanates from their tail in the illustration wraps around not only Pix and Paix, but also around the sword of the statue, which represents protection.
The Silver Ant
The Silver Ant is the old Paixandrian name for a long-period comet whose orbit sees it visiting the world every 200 years. In the illustration we see it visiting the past (left side of the image) and the present (right side of the image).
The split between past and present
On the left we see the past; golden and warm. The glorious city, the ivory and copper tones of Paix's raiment, all the regalia of royalty (crown, trident, cloak, ring), the faithful and devoted presence of Chaperone Mhenheli. And on the right we see the present; blue-toned and holding a heavy weight. The ruined city, the blue of Pix's shirt and the teal of Malin's form. Even the statue - though she's built that way in canon anyway - mirrors this, with her feathered wing in the warm past and her skeletal 'sextant wing' in the present.
The expressions
I have to point this out, in case you've not picked up on it. I described modern day Pix to Sabira as follows:
In the story, he is the same person as Paix; just 2,000 years later. So hair colour, general facial features etc would be the same. His eyes are more weary, though, because he's carried the guilt of what he did back then for those 2,000 years.
LOOK AT THOSE EYES
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Modern-day Pix's expression is warm and open with a faint hint of a smile, but his eyes are guarded and weary. They're even a little bloodshot. Contrast that with the placid serenity of his past younger self, his clear kohl-lined gaze lifted as if looking up at the Vigil.
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People, I AM EATING THAT DIFFERENCE UP WITH A SPOON, IT'S SO GOOD.
The royal regalia
The symbols of the Copper King's reign are:
the copper crown
the ring
the trident
the regalia cloak
The copper crown is Sabira's original design (which, in fact, inspired my description of it in the story) except my version has the two copper nodes exchanged for a tiny glowing conduit that lights his face, and an emerald. Both of these rest in their corresponding 'cradles' on the crown (shh, it's magic) until worn by the rightful king, at which point they both move into their 'hovering' positions. Looking at the image above, Sabira has even captured the glow from the conduit, reflecting from its surrounding cradle.
I gave Sabira free rein with the design of the ring, having only ever described it loosely in the story as a copper band surmounted by a cut emerald. And I was delighted with their resulting design, which mingles the shape of many candles (or even the surrounding pillars of the Vigil) with the conduit cradle, and then the emerald.
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The regalia cloak and trident are both Sabira's own beautiful classic designs, which most (well, all) of my followers who like Pix will already be familiar with.
And, lastly, one other little detail so small that you probably didn't even notice it unless you zoomed in closely...
The earring
Paix's deepslate emerald teardrop earring (no connection to Max's earring at the end of the story) was his own personal thing. We all know how Pix canonically loves his deepslate emerald, so I figured that I'd have him wishing the ring had that stone in it rather than a pure, cut emerald. Instead, he opted to wear a deepslate emerald earring. He wears small copper hoops in both ears, but from the left one he also has the teardrop earring.
But look closer, at both his earring and at modern-day Pix:
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Can we all just please admire the fact that modern-day Pix has a piercing hole because he once wore those earrings, and that the weight of the deepslate emerald earring worn by Copper King Paix actually stretches his piercing hole a little?
Details, people. DETAILS. This is why Sabira is the fucking BEST. GAH!
Anyway, this took almost my entire lunch break to write, so I'm now going back to work xD
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and here we have the ever-elusive desert duo, also known as the grian and the goodtimeswithscar, rummaging through the caskets in the catacombs as though they were not in a crypt for long-dead people of the lore...
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friquest · 2 years
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Imagine if the Ancient Capital is a Ghost City and more and more spirits come forward the more Pix uncovers it's Ruins. Like he brought back an extinct specie, wouldn't be surprised if he accidentally brought back the citizens of Ancient Empire.
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spacetrashpile · 11 months
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IM GONNA KICK PIXLRIFFS ASS HOW AM I EVER MEANT TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS EVER AGAIN
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ducksbyday · 1 year
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Empires SMP album covers
HELLO TUMBLR PEOPLE
I thought it would be fun to draw album covers of artists in the style of different empires. Kinda with the idea in mind that these bands would be from these areas. So, I looked for some songs that I thought fit and I drew them! Here are the results! (4/8, working on more :D)
Stratos: Half-alive - Not Now Not Yet
Highlighted song: Creature
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I chose this song because I like the idea that the people of Stratos are very religious. The majority of their songs are about The god of the Sky. Further, They believe that the people of Stratos are perfect because they are created by Joel, who is perfect. Some might also still worship the ancient Queen of the Ocean. They see her as a fallen God from the past and also the past lover of God Joel.
Chromia: Saint Motel - Foyeur
Highlighted song: You Do it well
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I will be honest, I mainly chose this album because of how it looked. But also I adore Saint Motel and I think it fits Chromia very well. Their music is quite diverse, most of the time cheery with a hint of mischief and mystery. I specifically chose the song "do it so well" because it fits the idea of Scott stealing and doing not-so-legal things, but somehow always getting away with it.
Gobland: The Dreadnoughts - Polka's not dead
Highlighted song: Polka never dies (or Goblin Humpa, simply bc of the name)
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For Gobland I had a fitting band before even starting the project. I think The Dreadnoughts is a perfect fit. Their music is mainly reminiscent of drinking songs that would be played in bars and taverns. I believe that goblins would be notorious for their loud music and their ability to hold their booze. If you're looking for a good time, the bars of Gobland are the perfect place to go to. I think The Dreadnoughts perfectly reflect that idea.
And last but not least:
Tumble Town: Dan Romer - Into The Flames (Far cry 5 OST)
Highlighted songs: "Oh John" and "Build a castle"
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This is the first one I drew and also one I pretty quickly had an answer for. Tumble Town is more of a country-music-type empire. I think the "Into The Flames" album fits the Empire quite well. I like the idea of the people of Tumble Town having a very big appreciation and lots of respect for the Sherrif, which they show in their music. The Sherrif is their protector and they would do anything for him. Although I don't think it's quite Far Cry 5 level (At least I hope not O.O).
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