Elden Ring Verse

Here it is. Forewarning, he may not be what you’re expecting: https://astoran-exemplar.tumblr.com/elden

Had a lot of fun putting it together, so let me know if y’all want any starters and the like. 

…

((Great question, and I have been thinking about it for a while... for the OP, I think I've settled on this piece by Survive Said the Prophet, and for the ED... this piece by Yuzu.

To rationalize it... the OP by SSTP talks about the nature of war, conquest, and imperialism- a kind of reckoning with the twisted logic it implants in societies as a whole, and Aven's attempts to grapple with it, and potentially forge something better.

But there is an air of wistful yearning to that song, an attachment to the blissful ignorance of youth- when faith could be blind.

"Can someone tell me how I use to picture the scenes that I used to dream of?"

Its coda is also an angry reprisal, a question. "Kill or be killed. Is it such a petty world?" Is the Fate of the Tarnished solely to be as Butchers, levers through which Marika, the Greater Will, or some Darwinian Impulse to just "earn a crown through strength" exercises itself?

The ED, on the other hand, possesses a glimmer of hope- the part of Aven that tries to look at the horizon, to hope and dream of something better. But it acknowledges that he has a path still to tread- self-reflection. Unearthing the mysteries of the Lands Between. Thinking deeply about his relationships with the people in his life- the passing encounters, profoundly meaningful, yet incidental.

His Maiden, the other Tarnished, the inhabitants of the Lands Between, and those he lost.

There is a strong dualistic/helix image motif that permeates the entirety of Elden Ring's aesthetic and symbolic elements, and it's quite fortuitous that Hyori Ittai also has that thematic intention found within its lyrics.

"Twisting together, round and round... they are connected.

Squinting my eyes at the helixes passing by... I leaned forward from my strange dream.

The inevitable masquerading as coincidence. The divergent paths that come together.

The shadow that follows me, everywhere, forever. Will I take it in, or illuminate it?"))

((There is a popular conception that one needs a lifetime of training to become a competent user of the longbow. It's since been debunked, but it would be fair to say that Aven is fairly out of practice with the usage of such long rage projectile weapons. He has excellent hand-eye coordination and could perform ably if given one, but it isn't his preferred mid to long-ranged weapon of choice.

While the Amber is closer to a galleon in terms of size and function, the ship that Aven spent most of his formative years on, the Stormhawk, was actually a galleass.

The lack of broadside cannons and gunpowder meant that most combat engagements that occurred at sea still involved some measure of boarding action. The Stormhawk usually initiated contact with adversaries by ramming, and then the bloody work of hand-to-hand combat could begin. At that relatively short distance, the Farsails traditionally opened up with a volley of javelins, boarding pikes, and crossbow bolts if the opportunity presented itself.

Although he bears the amber-inlaid longsword that is his badge of office, that weapon hardly saw use in engagements at sea. Much like his own father, when pressed into the tight confines of a ship, he preferred the boarding axe.))

On the Tarnished: A Generational Gap

((Small lore dump incoming, because I had never acquired this item until recently. Taking a look at the Giant Crusher, Tragoth’s weapon of choice, we find an interesting lore tidbit:

Man has grown feeble in comparison to his forebears. 

There’s a common theme that we feel in Elden Ring particularly keenly, of previous civilizations being “greater”. Size and opulence are often stylistic indicators of such a fact, but the abilities and merit of the first Tarnished (before they were called that, of course), as well as their proximity to the Crucible, must mean that they possessed a greater amount of strength, at least relative to contemporary Tarnished.

It calls to mind the poems of Hesiod, and how he described the Ages of Men. The age in which he lived, the Age of Iron, where men had supposedly abandoned virtue and piety, was preceded by an Age of Heroes, the Mycenean era, where the Hemitheoi (demigods) wandered the earth. 

I had initially believed that the main “edge” of the older Tarnished was, yes, a mild boost in strength through runes, as well as a stronger resolve for battle, owing to their proximity to both Marika and Godfrey, but, much like many of the other creatures in the Lands Between (Trolls being referred to as “Lesser Giants”, contemporary Dragons being hardly better than animals and being extremely small compared to their titanic forebears- the Ancient Dragons, and the Albinaurics likely tracing their origins to the Silver Tears), the Giant-Crusher seems to indicate that, at least on a baseline level, older Tarnished (and older humans in general) are probably stronger than their contemporaries, especially those coming in from outside the Lands Between.

The generational gap between Tarnished is, I think, a very interesting thing to play with narratively, especially if they are still lucid.))

Repose

His reappearance is quiet. Almost incidental, really. The soft glow of Grace, a brief alighting of gold and leaf, is all that signals his return to the physical plane.

Or it would have, if the knight did not immediately bolt upright, gasping as if he were without breath, a terrifying gurgle in his throat.

Against all sense and temporality, however, he was fine. The spectral nightmare had been immaterial, nonexistent. But the memory of that suffocating blackness troubled him deeply.

His sword lay at his side and his arms remained unpilfered- although they were pockmarked and sundered by blade and flame: the product of the Recusant’s sadism. The ashen remains of a bonfire were also nearby, as was the ramshackle tent commonly assembled by the tradesmen of the Great Caravan. Abel was absent- likely plying his wares elsewhere.

He would need to avail of the Smith’s services once more. But first…

The mariner-knight rose to his feet, shakily. His own delirium be damned, all that mattered was finding Rosalind. Her visible absence in their encampment was good news, at the very least. She was likely back on her feet.

He pushed it aside- the memory of those sunken, pallid faces. The steeple’s shadow. The songbird. The interstice, and the ashen seabed. They were troubling visions, and nothing more.

Or so he’d have liked to believe.

Ignoring the itching sensation at the swell of his chest, the knight took a moment- basking in the Erdtree’s light, its promise of safety, of longevity, and suppressed a feeling of profound despair.

For he had been measured, and he had been found wanting.

With a grimace, the knight trudged out of the encampment. Grace would guide him true, to the one he was promised. Faint as it was, the luminescent gold still glimmered; illuminating a path towards his Rose. He need only focus, right?

@tinyredrose​​