#fellomenking

[zcrayas]

Rya had never seen an Omen before. Not in a sense of being aware what they were, what was their place in the society. During her journeys she had briefly noted the wandering huge creatures, thinking no less of them than any other - could they hail from other lands?

For Lady Tanith, indulged in blasphemy against the ruling order, had chosen to shelter Rya, even from the terrors occurring even behind the manor walls, even from Rya's very origin. Refusing to taint the pure heart, a rarity among their kin.

Even though she hadn't been lied about the cruelty of the lands, the cruelty executed on unfortunate beings by her home family - the serpent herself, wasn't taught to despise or shun. And she knew too well, what hate and fear could bloom in others.

Outside, where serpents were non-existent, she was feared. Thus, choosing willingly to disguise herself in more accepted form, even though holding pride for her true image. And she chose to hide, only to spare the insults and unwanted attention.

Ryaalways believed in the good of the heart upon approaching anyone. Tarnished, the champions lady Tanith requested her to find, and other wanderers. Considering just how peaceful the stranger seemed, she hesitated none.

" The tree. I saw you gaze it so longingly. Indeed, how the leaves dance in the air... how long they maintain that glow even on the ground. " The young noble mused in slight distance, pointing up at the tall looming vision - almost dream like. " I couldn't just ignore that." || @fellomenking ❤' d!

[impcler]

@fellomenking

The shattering of the elden ring was an event felt through all the lands between and the realm writ from history. It was the one and only thing that could coax a devout son from his eternal post steeped in blood. Messmer could trust his men from Gaius to his most loyal fire knights to hold the fort while he was away.

Surely his mother would not ward him off for expressing some concern on her behalf. What he saw upon surfacing unto the land bathed in rays of the erdtrees eminence was far from that of his youth. The lands between seemed almost ghostly now and the capital would be no different, a husk of the glory it once was.

He'd minded his serpents to this point but the state of things as they were coaxed his companions to show themselves as he grew ever nearer to the tree that bore witness to the disarray of the golden order.

"Mother... Where art thou to have allowed chaos to reign?"

Had she abandoned them all now? He refused to believe it. Only he was meant to bear her sins and his curse. The thought of being forsaken to this extent was a deeply distressing one.

[wandererariandell]

The flow of blood had not been cut off.

The deep wound continued to bleed despite the handkerchief Ariandell had sacrificed to bandage it, quickly soaking it red and rendering his left hand unusable. The herbs he had traded for some precious stones to a man named Patches didn't seem to be serving their pain-relieving purpose, either, and that was beginning to worry him.

Normally, Ariandell was able to dodge without trouble when he heard an object being thrown at him. This had been the case for the last few times. However, the sheer amount of stimuli around him as he saw the blurred entrance to Stormveil Castle right in front of him caused him to become careless for a few moments, long enough for someone to have thrown a dagger at him that dug into his hand with certainly enviable speed and aim.

In other circumstances, Ariandell would have even applauded. Just a little.

He had no bandages left. Nor herbs either, even if they wouldn't do much good. He needed to keep going.

Ariandell let out a heavy sigh, beginning to stow his things in his satchel. He had tried to create with thread and sticks something that could keep his hand as still as possible until the wound healed, but even the light of Grace wasn't enough to keep him on the right track, so he got up.

Turning back was not a good idea. Not with all those people guarding the entrance. The only way was forward, and that was what Ariandell did after pulling the hood of his cloak over his head. Dumb as it might sound, it was one of the things that had helped him stay hidden from those who were not a pleasant presence. Perhaps they assumed he was one of them, or simply ignored him. In any case, he was not going to sacrifice the only way to go unnoticed.

Then, he arrived at...

A second entrance to the castle?

Ariandell squinted his eyes in an attempt to see what was around him, other than desolation and absolute silence.

@fellomenking

[lockawayknight]

🪓 defective | @fellomenking

He doesn’t know why Mohg chooses the sewers, of all gods-damned places, to spend his free time. And he doesn’t know why Mohg expected him to know how to get to the sewers in the first place.

He’s lost. Beyond lost. He’s been running from guards, hiding from misbegotten, and fighting through soldiers for what feels like hours now, just trying to find the entrance to the sewers he was promised would be around here somewhere…

He can’t find it. He doesn’t even know if he wants to.

… Eh, fuck it. He’ll just explore the city.

It doesn’t take too much longer once he’s given up to find a strange room full of scrolls and belongings, a wide staircase leading out and up towards what looks like the very heart of the Erdtree itself. Its light is absolutely magnificent from this distance, calming and curing and oh so wonderfully kind. And though he had spurned grace long ago — had slain his maiden and sworn his life to the Lord of Blood — … he feels drawn to it.

And thus, he takes the first step.

(Like a moth to a flame, his wings will surely burn in anguish.)

He climbs the steps towards the Erdtree’s heart, spellbound by its light.

[bloodrosebriars]

[fellomenking][retrospect] Hug, because the emoji isn't showing!

[idk i found this while clearing my inbox and wanted to answer it lol]

The sudden pressure of those strong, familiar arms wrapped around his shoulders seems to force the air from the taller Omen’s lungs, as if he were kicked hard in the ribs — hard in his stilled, bleeding heart.

And just like that, his trident clatters to the ground beside his brother’s discarded staff.

He had expected a fight — a bloody, awful fight. Here, beneath the branches of the Erdtree, upon the grounds of the thrones Morgott holds so sacred. Morgott, the elder Omen; the one thing left standing between Mohg and the birth of his Dynasty. Grace’s last protector. The Mother’s worst enemy. After all this time, this brewing and brooding, this preparing himself for the inevitable battle between brothers of blood… this is what he is met with? After so many years, so much time apart, so much stalwart service to their respected gods… Morgott still wishes to hold him?

Is this some sort of trick?

“But…

“…why…?”

The words have left his mouth before he’d even processed the thought. Why. Why. Why is Morgott offering him love, when he came with intentions of hate? Why does he hold him so tight, his grey face buried in the folds of Mohg’s robes, his breathing hitching on its proud cadence?

Why does Morgott still love him?

And why does he love him, too?

“Morgott…

“… please… stop this…”

Don’t make this harder than it needs to be…

[thefirsteldenlord]

A thousand years have you been gone. And yet your son Morgott, an old man now, is still a virgin.

"Ehhh...?" He was taken aback by the comment. The old man broke his eternal scowl to show an expression of suprise and even slight embarrassment. He could have gone his whole tarnished life without knowing that...

"Mayhaps he's saving himself for the right maiden?" He stammered. They still do stuff like that, right?

[smouldring]

@fellomenking​ unparalleled rage.

[rottenbladeofmiquella]

@fellomenking continued from here

If one looked at Malenia now, one would not think she was one who had only recently awakened from a decades-long coma.  Granted, her helmet obscured a good half of her face, but there was not enough of her face left unmarred enough to show any signs of tiredness even if she were bareheaded.  Yet she stood tall and firm, betraying neither exhaustion nor pain in her posture.  On the surface, The Severed appeared as she always had, the Unalloyed Gold of her prosthetics gleaming bright beneath the light of the Erdtree even now.

She gave her elder half-brother a nod at his gracious allowance.  When she spoke, her voice was still soft, strong, and refusing to show anything her words would not.  Her tone ever that of a warrior first and foremost.  “I thank you.”

She paused for a brief moment, gathering her thoughts.  So much had changed, so much unraveled, yet Malenia found it difficult to give words to what she needed to say.  This one part venting, in the end, and venting had never come naturally to one who had to live her life in constant control of herself.  Besides, to vent was merely complaining about one’s suffering, and what did the Blade of Miquella know of suffering compared to Morgott?

Even so, she soon found enough words to continue.  “I have spent these past years in a something of a stupor, recovering from my battle with Radahn.  Yet as you can see before you, I was roused from my slumber by an intruder in the heart of the Haligtree.  An assassin clad in black and wielding a blade touched by Death.”

Malenia allowed a small frown to cross her face as she continued.  “She silenced herself before I could claim any answers from her.  Those of our followers that remained have told me much about how the world has changed in my absence, but having experienced it for myself..."

She brought her hand up to her helm, taking it off and exposing her rotten visage to the world.  “Miquella is gone.  My people need guidance, yet without him, there is no end goal left to guide them towards.  All of our kin are dead, missing, or insane.  To say nothing of Caelid; I cannot even begin to comprehend the horror I have inflicted on Radahn and his people.”

She hesitated once again, and for the first time in so very long, she allowed her weakness to show itself.  “I do not deserve your leniency, brother.  You have remained stalwart and sane, despite all that life has thrown at you, despite all that I aided in ruining.  I erred so greatly, where you remained true.  

I...I do not know what to do.  Yet I must do something.”

[maldrontheassassin]

🕯️ For Morgott of course!

─╠═► Send 🕯️ to hear Maldron's thoughts! | ACCEPTING

An Omen, alive. A man who could defeat Godfrey's Lion with his emergence. There was no doubt that he was a demigod. There was no doubt that his blood was traced back to Godfrey or Marika or even both. It was what would make the most sense -- a true-blooded union of God and Elden Lord to defeat the child of Radagon and Rennala.

The Grace of Gold was clearly in his eyes, chosen so by the Erdtree... But that mattered little. Godwyn would have greeted him with open arms. Who were his knights but to do the same? He had proven his valor and justice in glorious defense of the Erdtree, and so he was its savior.

To hold on to tradition in the face of such shifting times, for no other sake than to uphold it, Maldron would sever the head from the shoulders. But... Morgott's disapproval was all that allowed such treason to stand.

If only he would allow himself more clemency. If only he would allow himself the due praise of his people. To be allowed to be a hero, to allow them to fight on his behalf, rather than sending his Night's Cavalry to the wayward corners of the Lands Between...

If only Lord Morgott could stand with his head hung high, and if only the people 'neath him would hold him to his true stature, elevated such by the Erdtree itself.

For the injustice perpetrated both by him and toward him is an affront to that which hath undoubtedly been blessed. He is aught but a saint in the flesh, and the Greater Will will judge those based on their treatment of their greatest martyr.

Long may the last King of Leyndell reign.

[unalloyeddivinity]

🕯️and one for [fellomenking]

A... frustrating mix of feelings. Pity, worry, anger, and exasperation. It was clear that Morgott saw not the crumbling edifice for what it was. A fool.

And there was how something had had happened between he and Mohg. It was a horrifying parallel, of if Miquella had abandoned Malenia to her rot in favor of the power that came with maintaining the Golden Order.

But Morgott was still worth saving from his doom, if it could be done, even if he was a stubborn fool. The question was, how?

[fellmoondoll]

      @fellomenking has come to Ranni's Rise

    " To what pleasure do I have of this welcome? " Sat upon the small throne at the top of her tower, the small room nearly filled with books. But she regarded her looming kin with gentle tone, letting him suffocate room with his presence.

[shireentheunburnt]

[fellomenking] "Alone he stands upon a giant throne. A king he proclaimeth himself, but he is naught but a pretender."

Shireen’s gaze fell to the ground and she gave a small nod. It was, sadly, an accurate description of who her father had become in the end. “You are right,” she whispered, “except that he... stands no longer.” A knight and her sword had seen to that and, apparently, he had been badly injured even before execution...

Surely, even his daughter had to admit, he had chosen such an unfortunate fate for himself.

@krakenguard @fellomenking

[randolph-the-eternal-blessed]

“I hope you are still doing well, brother.”

Randolph has travelled from The Silver Citadel to Morgott’s castle for a routine visit. His Whiteblade Knights are guarding him from any who’d make an attempt on his life on his way there, or in Morgott’s chambers.

“I trust that Mohgwyn hasn’t been partaking in any debauchery as of late?”

[tabletennis20]

(NSFW) Morgott Drabble 1/2

Virgin Morgott cums untouched.

The first part of a small something based off of this post by @eggslamwich and this one by @fellomenking.

Morgott found ignoring the tingling path the Tarnished’s firm hands left upon his skin proved a difficult task. Much more difficult than anticipated. Yet he could only blame himself, having accepted when they offered a massage. Had he known his reactions to their attention would be stronger than his constitution, he would have declined the proposal. Now he could do naught but lay on his stomach and endure the pleasure.

He bit back a groan as the Tarnished dug their fingers into his hide, his fur bristling at the gentlest of their touches let alone the concentrated strength of them kneading out the stubborn kinks in his back. Their nails raked along his spine, satisfying an itch he only now discovered.

...Or rather, an itch he denied himself due to his blasphemous form.

As the Tarnished’s hands drew towards the base of his tail, circling around horns, an unusual sensation swept over him. An overwhelming heat built quickly in his loins, searing his nerves raw before spilling over into a bliss unlike any other. Caught off guard, a moan slipped past his lips as his tail spasmed wildly from base to tip. He silently thanked the Erdtree that he could bury his burning face into his arms as his seed soaked into the fur around his groin. Apart from his heart beating thunderously in his ears, he could hear nothing, deaf to his own ragged breathing as his head spun.

The Tarnished’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Of course they expected Morgott to make some noise, the massage being anything but gentle to work the knotted muscle, but the intimate sound that escaped him confirmed he felt more than simple relief. Their hands stilled as the omen’s tail twitched in a way that left them certain that if their touch were to drift any lower, there would be no pretending their intentions were innocent. As it was, they were surprised Morgott had not run off, but they knew any wrong moves would likely change that.

Unsure how to respond, they said nothing, instead letting their hands rub soothingly into the fur of Morgott’s back. They doubted the ability of their words to do anything other than scare him away, even if they wished to reassure him. To get him agreeable to a massage had been struggle enough, and they dearly hoped he would be kind enough to himself to enjoy it regardless.

Morgott froze as reality set in, the last pleasant waves of his orgasm lost to his mortification. To taint a bed of Leyndell with his grotesque arousal… The Tarnished continued their care with tender caution, seemingly unfazed by his body’s traitorous reactions. He badly wanted to move, but his boneless limbs refused and his cock still laid partially outside its sheath, not yet soft enough to disappear.

Swallowing thickly, Morgott shifted enough to be audible. “T…Tarnished… I… l…” He stopped, faint with embarrassment. His stomach thrashed.

“It’s okay,” the Tarnished said gently. “I know.” They squeezed his shoulders before continuing to knead the muscle there.

Morgott grunted, hesitantly turning his head enough to peer at them from between his fingers. They met his vulnerability with a kind smile, causing him to hide again in his uncertainty. How does one respond to humiliating themselves in such an intimate fashion? He felt disgusted with himself for soiling the sheets, for forcing the Tarnished to deal with the aftermath even though they seemed unbothered.

“It’s okay,” they repeated.

“Aye,” Morgott muttered, his voice nearly inaudible. If they insisted, then so be it. Questioning the Elden Lord would certainly not do him any favors.

“Do you want to move?”

“…No.”

“Very well.”

Gradually, Morgott allowed himself to relax. If the Tarnished wished to ignore his…mistake, then he would happily pretend nothing happened.

[krakenguard]

This is the main blog of a roleplayer with a bunch of sideblogs for RP! If you are at all interested, I run the following blogs for the following muses:

Elden Ring Morgott: @fellomenking Mohg: @luminaryofblood Tarnished OC: @thalassaschel

Bloodborne Gilbert: @lanternfading

[crybaby-tarnished]

Which DND Class Suits your Personality?

Tagged by @fellomenking

I tag @eldenlordofdragons @castella-the-tarnished