riandur - Tumblr blog

[riandur]

THIRST GIFS OF HARALD SIGURDSSON: 3 / -

[riandur]

"Too long. Especially since I sleep around a bunch of dead fucks," Riandur continued along the wall, though he didn't try to explain that wasn't what he meant. "Not exactly. Except maybe a headache, depends on how you want to see it," he murmured, stopping now as he reached where he'd been looking out all night. There was a small pile of dead darkspawn, stragglers or scouts, Rian wasn't sure, but they'd been cut down by the dead that he'd raised around them. "I don't know where they came from." He'd sent one of the bodies out further, trying to puppet and find the link to where they came from. "Nothing we can't handle, except now we have a full fort and idiots who think they can be heroes. The wall should hold."

Riandur was so interesting, and cool. It was Alucard's hope to be like him, but the dhampir always managed to fall short. Melancholic and socially awkward where the warrior was all unabashed charisma and fortitude. Someday maybe the dhampir could glimmer some of those social graces that had Riandur cursing with every other breath; his violent undertones were familiar to Alucard, death and decay were a little piece of home for the former citizen of Veilcrest.

"You must have been awake for a long time then." Deadpan delivery, even as his feet touched the ground and the truth of his derisive height was plain for any to see if they looked at the stark contrast between the two. Alucard followed in habitual step behind Riandur, mentally running through a list of everything that the other might have gotten him. Maybe Riandur had secured a new sword, or perhaps it was a dead body, Iskrates had made use of the falling Iskarans in his research against the blight. More subjects could be useful. Was it a new hammer? Alucard had broken his recently when one of the gears for his coffin had come loose. "Did you get me something?"

[riandur]

Riandur hardly visited Lorien'dal. It wasn't because he disliked the place, but because he remembered the stories of why his parents, or grandparents – ancestors, whatever - had left to make a life in a little village instead. They could move and commune with the land, some nonsense about being connected to nature and respecting it. They weren't High Elvhen, their laws were skewed and no longer really matched what was expected of those who lived amongst the mortals. After all, Rian's hands were stained with blood, and still – he'd done something ridiculously stupid like...soulbond.

The object of his affection was here, in all his High Elvhen flair and glory. There were always stark differences, if not just from the accents and the way they spoke, but the light of the Laurelin that Riandur had never witnessed. Mortality was just that, mortality. Tian would have years and years without him, and at least he could say he wasn't the only stupid one.

That question didn't warrant a response, instead, Riandur had been waiting a while to see him again. Some ridiculous issue of having to spend time in Avalon for how long they'd been out, or something. He'd told Tian that if he ever spent twenty years out and twenty years in, Rian wouldn't wait for him. That was a lie, but the other didn't need to know that. Instead, he grabbed the other by the face, pulling him in for a harsh and demanding kiss, nothing short of a hello as he backed him against the nearest wall. After a moment, Rian pulled back to catch his breath, "Beggars can't be choosers when it comes to friends."

closed starter for @riandur location: lórien’dal note: flashback baybee

It had been quite a long time since Tianyou had stepped foot into this realm. Lórien’dal had not changed though. He could remember seeing those silver elvhen just living their lives as he did. He had remembered the first thought he'd had once he stepped out of the Feywilds. After trekking through that, it felt like anything could be beautiful if you looked long enough. But something about Lórien’dal made him wonder if he was missing out on something. That thought had disappeared the longer he stayed though. Silver had always cost less than gold. What could he have in Lórien’dal that he couldn't have in Avalon? Maybe he should have made a pros and cons list back then to help. Instead, he'd just passed his judgment and went on his merry way back to his luxurious life as a noble in Avalon. Coming back to this place had been him giving it a second chance. His mother had hoped for him to not do the same thing she had when she had came to the mortal realm. He supposed he wouldn't have ended up back here if it weren't for her. Maybe he wouldn't have been souldbonded with someone that was dreadfully mortal if he had just stayed in Avalon his entire life.

Nevertheless, here he was. Tianyou had never really thought he would ever find something like love within a place like Northreach. Yet, again, here he was. How embarrassing for him truly. Even more embarrassing? Riandur was never up to any good. Not that he had ever been either, but the silver elvhen sure as hell drew danger towards him at any given moment. Perhaps it was the fact that Tianyou felt like he was Riandur's only friend other than a bunch of corpses. Again, pretty embarrassing for the both of them. Was he supposed to tell his parents he fell in love with a guy that could reanimate corpses and then called them friends? His father would wonder where both of their heads were and his mother would give him a fake smile that would never truly meet her eyes. Nevermind his siblings. Still, here he was. Here he probably always would be. Somehow, Riandur had him wondering if he should ever even think of going back to Avalon now.

"Hanging with the corpses again?" That was all he asked as said silver elvhen walked through the door.

[riandur]

"It could just be dark, and dreary. And you could have a darkspawn in your bed. But the skylight? Adds value. I know these things. Interior design is my passion." Rian tilted his head, "Do you think scribblings will come out and get you or something? Come on now. The rantings and ravings of an old legionnaire shouldn't bother you." He waited until the other was done looking around, and while he wanted to scare the other, he wouldn't – his minimal self control was enough to do that for him. "If you're done looking around, that hole in the corner is your toilet. Enjoy."

"Does it seem like I'm hiding my disappointment? I feel like I'm showing it pretty well." The room was certainly better than anything else he'd been thrown into, but it wasn't anything to write home about. Not that he had a home to write back to anymore anyway. Still, Afshin was never the type to sugarcoat how he felt about anything. He always thought himself allowed to say whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Eldar told the truth because he had to. Afshin told the truth because he wanted to let people know the exact thought he was having at any given moment. He couldn't have people thinking he liked them if he didn't after all. "I don't think I would classify a hole in the roof as a skylight." This guy was definitely trying to make the place look better than it was. Maybe because he was far too used to it. Afshin, however, was not. "Scribblings on the walls?" His voice lowered. "That's not at all comforting."

[riandur]

LEO SUTER as Harald Sigurdsson Vikings: Valhalla (2022) Season 2 Episode 2: "Towers of Faith"

[riandur]

Riandur pushed open the doors that he knew would grate along the stone, screech as if they were protesting doing any work like the rest of the stone heap that the Legionnaire's were currently living in. Now, with an amassing of refugees, Nornwatch was on its last leg. And now, Rian was somewhat tired of dealing with most of this on his own. Alucard was always napping, this wasn't exactly a surprise, and the Elvhen had to wait not so patiently as the entire fanfare began.

The coffin rose, Rian had offered to scribble some runes on it for him, but he was always denied. The gentle caressing breeze was another thing, the Elvhen had picked up a fan from a traveling merchant once to add a little gusto and he'd been told off, the fan was never seen again.

The black armor they donned wasn't going to get anymore mysterious or dark, but that was something he'd told Alucard many times. "I've told you before, beauty sleep is only for us that are a little more alive than dead." He tried not to laugh, reaching forward to grab onto the cloak Alucard was wearing so he could yank him back onto the ground, "Stop fucking around with your height, everyone knows you're a hundred year old twink. Let's go, I have to show you something."

@riandur location: Nornwatch Keep notes: (he lives for the drama)

A flash of a wailing horde, laughter like a chorus of cicadas rattled the peripheries of his mind's eye. Wherever Alucard looked, there was more to see and yet his mind could take in none of it. An acrid taste coated the tarmac of his mind as a hollow cry echoed against the abused barren of his unconscious synapses. Heat seared at the expanse of Alucard's spine alongside a hunger, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It burned through his core as the lurking presence of a gaze that Alucard could not place remained upon him. Thousands of lies, a city in flames, and at the core he saw the face of High King Orhan.

A rap at his chamber door brought Alucard's red eyes open into the dark, cracked velvet interior of his casket. Soon the tell-tale sound of said doors being flung open told Alucard all he needed to know about the person that entered. The triggered mechanism turned gears installed under the stones of the Keep's floor, painstakingly placed in the years that Alucard had spent as a legionnaire at the end of this barren world.

Gas lanterns cracked to life as the chamber was cast in the warm glow of their Stone panels lifted as they ground against one another in protest, groaning as the mechanical arms exhaled steam, turning the lift that raised Alucard's coffin from the hidden chamber below. From the long shadows the lanterns cast, howling echoed off the Keep's walls as the feral barking of wolves punctuated the cold air about the drakul, rousing their master from his slumber.

Metal ground against metal as the coffin was tilted upright, raised by propulsion, and the mechanical arm at its back. A hiss resounded as steam was pushed from either side of the limbs and the sleek, black coffin ceased its ascent. Its cover slid away to reveal the stoic features of the dhampir within, hard as the cold, dead earth beneath their feet. Telekinesis lifted him from his deathbed as the dhampir drifted from his coffin the simple, black clothes shifted about his frame as if they were moved by a gentle breeze, a brush that fluttered the curls atop his head.

Alucard's armor came to him in pieces, his plate, weaponry, and the signature cloak emblazoned in gold with the symbol of the Old God Lusacan under a bed of stars. An echo of his heritage in Veilcrest's Church of Night; Alucard drifted through the air as his plate fastened itself to his frame by will of the dhampir's telekinesis, finery concealed until the cloak was latched and draped across his back. The proud symbol of the griffon writ across his chest plate as he floated still, a foot off the ground, as he looked down at arguably his only friend in this Keep: Riandur.

"I was napping."

[riandur]

LEO SUTER as HARALD SIGURDSSON VIKINGS: VALHALLA (2022-) | 2.01 “The Web of Fate”

[riandur]

VIKINGS: VALHALLA [2022-] | Season 1, Episode 1: The Greenlanders

[riandur]

"Please, don't hide your disappointment for my sake," he deadpanned, finding the lack of gratefulness very on brand. Rian crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the stone door frame, "Would you like to sleep on the cave floor with the rest of the people leaving your forsaken country behind?" The Elvhen tilted his head, "It used to have a roof, but that collapsed about five or so months ago. Too much hail." Rian pushed himself up and moved towards the center of the room, pointing to the single window, "You have a skylight, I hear people are desperate for one of these down South." The one window wasn't much of a view, either, it was just the side of the mountain. Bad placement. "One of our senior Legionnaires had this room before they went crazy. Ignore any of the scribblings on the wall. He had a lot of thoughts."

If there would be anyone that could find better quarters for him than what he already had, it surely would be one of the Legionnaires that stayed here. Yet here this man was leading him to one of the towers that Afshin had not happened upon to show him a better living situation. To say he was disappointed by the result would have been a huge understatement. It was better than what he had before though so he would just deal with it. Even if it was just a bedroll and not an actual bed. Even if the door creaked very loudly when this Legionnaire opened it. Were they not embarrassed to live here? Maybe not. Perhaps they just got used to it. Afshin wasn't sure he could have ever been the same if he was in their position. Then again, they didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. Regardless, his gaze pinged around the room, mouth straightening into a line as he did. "It'll do." He walked further into the room, fingers playing at the rings on his other hand. "This is the best you all have?"

[riandur]

@afshinxeldar Location: Nornwatch Notes: the best room but it don't got a roof

Riandur wasn't cut out for niceties. In fact, he never had been. His only mistake in life had been getting caught, and here he was, a Legionnaire with so many endless winters under his belt at this tower, he was almost certain he would start shitting snow sometime soon. He also wasn't paid enough, or paid – at all – to deal with royals who were supposed to be far away. There were no outside laws that governed the Legion here, none but their own. And it was Rian's utmost pleasure to lead the infamous magic hating royal to one of the only other towers in the place that had a decent bedroll. "Your highness," he tilted his head in amusement as he pushed, moreso shoved, the door open to the room. The door made a grating noise as it scraped against stone, almost hard enough to light a fire. "Sufficient enough?"

[riandur]

"What gave it away?" The black armor stood out in contrast amongst the rags around them, though it wasn't how most people would choose to stand out. Rian had been at Nornwatch for a few years now, their field commander running it like she had more than just a few souls under her hand. Now, the tower was overrun with refugees from Iskaldrik. A place that was meant to hold off the blight, to fight the creatures of the Dark One, now completely taken with soldier, mercenaries, spies – Riandur didn't trust a single soul at the moment, but this wasn't his fight.

He looked the man over, pushing himself off the step he'd been sitting on. "I'll show you what we have. And if you want to drink it, well, be my guest – but I don't recommend it." Rian stopped and pointed down the wall, a broken and crumbling well that looked like it hadn't been used in decades sitting there with a dead corpse over it. "We pack in the snow, boil it, and go from there. Used to have someone who could pull moisture out of the air, but they died a while ago." The Silver Elvhen picked up two buckets, one for Arkyn and one for himself, "Come on. Let's go find some snow."

@riandur LOCATION: Nornwatch tower (troupe)

Though seemingly safe for the moment, with the number of refugees being led through the caves to the tower it was easy enough to see that given the space, people were clawing for something to call their own. Clearer air, and nobody encroaching on whatever personal space they might have sought to occupy - and yet, even still, Arkyn regarded most of them with a breath of mistrust. The caravan held a great number of those noble to Iskaldrik - and one in the same, supernatural creatures that held onto power that was undoubtedly capable of causing utter mayhem and destruction. It was any wonder at all that Arkyn sought to help those fleeing beyond the reaches of the Magi, neither humans nor creatures alike had ever done a damn good thing for him, but even the coldest of hearts couldn't freeze out Arkyn from trying to keep anyone from suffering a life such as his.

Now, he searches for those of the tower, said to be awaiting their arrival. Throngs of people, dirty and malnourished - difficult to tell them apart from those stationed here. With each passerby, Arkyn looks each in the eye, hoping that perhaps something within them would click upon finding someone that didn't set the hair at the back of his neck on end in an attempt to keep him from coming too close another. Someone who didn't set a sour taste into the back of his throat, "You're one of them, no?" A pause, "the men of this tower. Legionnaires" It slips through his lips upon finding a man - slightly less covered in grime than the last, "The women have asked for more water, is that possible?" He didn't imagine a place like this would be too hospitable - but, in a world like theirs, a great many things were possible that shouldn't have been. "Just tell me where, I can fetch it."

[riandur]

THE OATHSWORN ~

NAME. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. 30+ SPECIES. Silver Elvhen FACTION. Legion of the Dead OCCUPATION. Legionnaire

You were born on the outskirts of Lysara, close enough to the Silverlands to know that there would be a home there, yet also close enough to feel the chill of Iskaldrik on your back. You had distant family in Avalon, others that lived within the Silver Elvhen capital, but none of that ever really excited you. Your story was written long ago by the fates, tragedy mixed with anger, and your days were spent alone rather than with others. You grew to be a loner, a weapon that could have endless reinforcements. You traversed the Feywilds, you’d been to the Moongate, but nothing that could have prepared you for the temper that laid brimming beneath the surface of your chest. An act of violence branded you a criminal, and you gladly took the title. There was no regret in your heart or your cold eyes, and when the leaders of the Silver Elvhen gave you a choice, you chose the Legion. You’d go, and if you survived the Joining, you would have served your penance. With nothing to lose, you made your way to Amon Sǔl, barely an adult, and took the Joining head on. And as the years passed, as you were set within Nornwatch Tower, your resolve never changed. The dead would always be there to rise with you, and perhaps that was all you needed.

CONNECTS

THE WANDERER: Soulbonded

NOTES

TQH: Troupe 1 - Refugee ABILITY: Reanimation/Resurrection - temporarily bring back the dead.

this skeleton is currently taken.