10. The Cleanser by Error

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Artist Error [gallery]
Time spent 2 hours, 39 minutes
Drawing sessions 6
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10. The Cleanser

Postby Error » Mon Oct 23, 2017 8:14 am

Keyword: anguish
Song: James Newton Howard / Hans Zimmer - Myotis
Palette: acadbc-9b9ece-6665dd-473bf0-000500



    This took me some time to get around to drawing. I had the design figured out for nearly two months. The concept for the "Cleanser" is that in a fantasy world the Cleanser appears after a war happens and "cleanses" the area of the spirits in order to allow the spirits to pass without need of a proper burial.
    The design for the eyes consist of low key body horror? Which isn't necessarily needed for the design, unless the new owner wishes to see the original concept sketch.

    This design has been adopted by rabbit448


    In order to win this character, tell me a story about them! The story can be whatever you like and however long as you wish it to be.

    Extras: unlimited art and words.

    Code: Select all
    [b]username;;[/b]
    [b]name;;[/b]
    [b]gender;;[/b]
    [b]the story;;[/b]


Last edited by Error on Mon Nov 13, 2017 11:20 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby mango marmalade,, » Mon Oct 23, 2017 8:15 am

woah! error, this is amazing! an early congrats to whomever wins this pretty charrie!
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby petrify » Mon Oct 23, 2017 8:35 am

holy cow this character is so amazing! smol res c:
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby ilhdc7 » Wed Oct 25, 2017 9:38 am

reserve

this is so amazing error oh my gosh so pretty

username;; ilhdc7
name;; Katharos - greek 'clean, pristine'
gender;; female
the story;;

katharos was born prematurely, in this instant, meaning her father and mother gave birth to her before they were even remotely mature. they were young and in love, and thought that the world was under their belts and the moon came out every night just to say hello to them. they weren't ready, ready for the screaming cries of a baby, that as far as they knew had nothing wrong with it. they weren't prepared for the long nights, and the fights over who would change the diaper next or the days where the moon didn't say hello, and the sun refused to shine.

but after just a few weeks of taking care of a small child, the father left, leaving Katharos's mother to care for her all by herself. some nights her mother could barely feed herself let alone the child that whimpered in the corner. Katharos took care of herself, learned to walk by herself, but each night when she fell asleep she knew she was protected, her godfather watched over her. she could feel the kind presence, that would occasionally kiss her goodnight or leave small gifts at the foot of her bed.

when she was sixteen, the plague went ravage through her village, taking her mothers life, and soon after stealing her own. when she was walking through the doors of hades, instead of entering hades home and finding her place to rest among the souls, the guardian, thanatos, who she recognized in the back of her mind. she was terrified, she had never heard of souls being taken off the regular course and the halls that they traveled down slowly became more and more terrifying.

each door had a ragged man standing outside it, with weapons of all shapes and sizes, some she had never even seen before. they glared at her as she passed, and she shrunk into her shadow, barly able to keep up with thanatos's long strides. she whimpered in protest when her grabbed her hand and pulled her into a large office.

"My name is Thanatos," He cleared his throat and gestured for her to sit down. when she did, he then sat himself. "You are my only daughter, and therefore I would not let you just walk through those doors and down into hell itself."

Katharos's eyes widened and she cleared her throat, "What?"

He chuckled, "Yes my dear, welcome, you have been grated to rank of a minor goddess. You may change your name if you wish, but your duties will remain what Hades and I have chosen for you."


She held her hands up, "Hold on, what!"

His eyes narrowed, "I never figured you as slow, keep up Katharos."

She narrowed her eyes back, finally finding her spine that had been buried deep inside, "Excuse you! I just found out my dad had known me all along, and wasn't just a deserter! And I'm a goddess!"

He rolled his eyes, "Only because the one before you got demoted."

She crossed her arms, snorting sarcastically, "Oh sure."

He held his hands up, pretending that it wasn't his fault. "You shall be a minor goddess of passage and souls. You travel to the battle fields and help lost soldiers find their way safely to my doors. That is it."

She nodded, knowing that it was a great gift to be bestowed upon her. "Ok, do I get any cool items? Like your wings? Like Poseidon's trident?"

Thanatos nodded, "Maybe, you have to ask Hephaestus, he will help you."

"Alri-" Before she could even finish her sentence, Thanatos had snapped his fingers, sending her cartwheeling through the ceiling and into the workshop of the god of smiths and fire. Katharos held her stomach, trying not to empty its contents onto the ground before her.

a large hand slapped down on her back, "WELCOME SMALL GODDESS! DAUGHTER OF FRIEND THANATOS!"

She coughed out a thanks before righting herself and holding out her hand for him to shake it. he chuckled, eyes crinkling, before waving it off, "No handshake needed small goddess."

She smiled and he continued, "Here is a spirit locator," It smoked in his hand, the onyx handle and blue pentagon shape catching Kathros's fancy. Her eyes gleamed with greed and she happily took it into her left hand. the weight felt right in her hand and the handle fit her petite fingers perfectly. "I took it upon me to give you a small knife, perfect for a small goddess. Some spirits are bad, I figured it might help you protect yourself." Katharos smiled and took the blade, but she couldn't find a place to put it on her body, so she held it in her hand. she set the locator down and looked around awkwardly.

She felt Hephaestus's judgmental eyes on her and as she looked up, he was holding a small drape that would cover her clothes, covered in words on protection. there were pants laid out and a shirt, and a head scarf. It had a hood, and a small sheath that would perfectly fit her knife. He smirked, handed it to her, and she pulled it on over the clothes she had passed in. She pulled on all the other clothes and shoved the knife into the sheath. she looked around her before finding the locator and holding it in her hand firmly.

blah blah blah wippp
will be revised there are some rough parts (grammer, typos)(esp. the last two paragraphs... so gross)
Last edited by ilhdc7 on Mon Oct 30, 2017 11:04 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby AvocadoLawyer » Sat Nov 04, 2017 5:26 am

All Coming Soon

username;;

name;;

gender;;

the story;;
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♕𝘔𝘺 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

|| Hello || Easton || He/him || Gay Geek || Pisces ||

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"ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴛᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ᴍʏ sᴏᴜʟ."
𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby Unleashed Squiid » Sat Nov 04, 2017 1:15 pm

maybe if I have any time? Ah!
Squid || She/Her || ENFP || Kals
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby Error » Sat Nov 11, 2017 5:41 pm

    This has received a week extension! So the end date is now the 12th instead of the 6th. ^^

    (thank you for all the kind comments on this! I'm glad people are enjoying the designs)
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby Error » Sun Nov 12, 2017 9:09 am

    This ends tomorrow!
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby rabbit... » Sun Nov 12, 2017 10:59 am

username;; rabbit448
name;; Dusana - "Sanki"
gender;; Female
the first thurible;;
Glass shards, like tiny knives, form the walls of grandmama's arca, her precious soul thurible. The tool that all cleansers need to siphon the souls from their physical world. It is set on the counter top as an example of what one actually looks like. It's tall and a beautiful azure colour. Dusana is fourteen and yearns to make one just as beautiful.

The sun has barely risen when she sits patiently to make her first arca. She wouldn't get to use it until she finishes training, but she is restless when she imagines the possibilities.

"Watch closely Sanki, take a pinch of spire dust and scatter it on the side that will face the fire when you put it in. It will make your arca stronger and give your glass its colour." Grandmama uses tongs to slide the glass into the furnace. "White spots will appear on the glass when it is ready. Be quick to take it out or it could warp the glass when it cools of you could burn the glass." Grandmama says this as she points to the surfacing white blooms.

She quickly removes the glass from the furnace and with fluid ease, she guides the glass into oblong shapes, forming the sides of an arca in mere minutes.

"There that is how it is done Sanki" Grandmama passes the tongs and to Dusana. "Now step up to the fire and we will see how you do."

Dusana does what her Grandmama instructs and tries to replicate her movements. She feels like a clumsy deer as she shuffled from side to side so the glass is over the flames.

"Pay attention Sanki!" grandmama chides. "You are letting the glass burn."

Sure enough, Dusana sees the fire consuming the glass. Upon her realization, Dusana quickly removes the glass from the furnace. "Grandmama what should I do?!" Dusana manages to yell out.

She starts looking around wildly for a solution. She spots a tub of water and rushes towards it. As Dusana drops the glass in the water she faintly hears her grandmama say something, but it is drowned out by the hammering of her heart.

"Phew that was a close one" Dusana relieved, brings a hand to her forehead to wick away the sweat. However, the water starts to ignite as fire rises to the surface. "Grandmama! Why is this happening?!" Dusana runs over to her grandmama, one hand clutched the tongs and one hand clutching her grandma's apron.

"Ahh you silly girl," her grandma looked very serene as she takes the tongs from her hands and pats her head. "Calm down, now fetch the iron lid we keep by the urns and cover the water barrel. We're going to let it burn itself out." Dusana nearly trips over her feet to retrieve the cover and slams it over the fire resolutely.

"If you were listening to your papa's stories, you would have known that spire dust is very delicate and catches on fire easily. Trust me, he should know from experience. He did the same thing when he was in your shoes," Her grandmama crinkles her eyes with glee as she recalls the memory. "Only he was a lot worse, he set fire to nearly half the workshop and was still panicking in front of the furnace when I rushed over". Grandmama handed the tongs back to Dusana and nudged her back in front of the forge.

"Wow really?" Dusana's eyes lost their fear and were replaced with laughter.

"Yes really Sanki. Now be more careful with this piece,"Grandmama says while placing the glass between the tongs. She sprinkles the spire dust onto the glass and steps back. "The forging of spire dust is what allowed your great great grandparents to join the cleansers. It was a break through for cleansers since they were using minerals like silver and gold dust to fortify their thuribles, but those are weak materials, to begin with," Her grandmother says. "Your ancestors possessed great ingenuity and even they accidentally discovered the forging uses of the spire dust. I recall my grandparents telling me about their fair share of fires."

Dusana keeps a better eye on the glass as she listens to the story. When the white spots appear she starts to mould it into the frame.

"Spire dust is much stronger, even if it is more flammable, but it gave us the chance at this new, thrilling journey. Now you get the chance to become part of this tradition." With a flourish of the hand, she finishes her tangent and looks at Dusana's moulding.

"Good, good. It's not warped, but the moulding could be more square, but I think this is a good try. Now finish your other pieces." Confident that Dusana will do a good job, her grandmama takes a seat near the forge.

Dusana feels tired just from that first piece, but she forges on regardless. She doesn't think her grandmama would let her leave without finishing more of her arca anyways.

It took many long hours since Dusana rose up at dawn to start the forging process. She forgot her hunger and continued forging well past noonday. Even longer, now the sun has nearly left the sky and she kept on forging. Her grandmama would leave occasionally to set glasses of water to the side, many of which sat half full and forgotten.

It was well into the night when she finally finished. It is smaller and simpler then she would like, but the light glints off the blue in such a mystical way. Dusana hugs the arca close to her chest and releases a relieved sigh.


the last resting song;;
Dusana has heard the sounds of war along with the sorrow and the shambles of the people that littered the field after. The bodies are frozen in death with faces that are distorted into soundless cries, only the quiet footsteps of the cleansers dissipate the silence.

When she hit the hilt of her knife against the thurible, a hypnotising ringing echoes through the air. She hears the songs of the other cleaners nearby as they create a cacophonous wail for the fallen lives. As the ringing flies through the air, fine mist slowly rises from the soldiers around her. Many of the spirits detach from their vessels easily, however there is the occasional soul that clings feverently to their deceased selves. In those times, Dusana stands close and comforts the spirit until they are ready to leave. She whispers to them softly and helps them to depart the world with calm resoluteness.

Dusana uses her knife to free the spirits from their bodies and allows them to float into her arca. They do not get individual funeral rights, but she is comforted knowing that they at least have Dusana and the other cleansers to see them off.

The heavy mist is lifted as more souls are cleansed from the land. By then the sounds of the world around the fields return. It is time for the cleansers to leave when vultures start circle ahead and coyotes start creeping out of the forests. The cry of the arcas lure them in so they can make use of the lives that were lost and return them to nature.Since the animals will take care of their bodies, the cleansers take care of their souls.

When twilight begins, the banks of the river are dotted with colour. Dusana opens the latch of her thurible and a mist flow into the heart of her paper lantern. She sets the lantern on the river and lights the ring on fire. Her lantern joins the masses as they ride the currents to their final resting place.

Dusana sounds one final song for the fallen soldiers. Her arca vibrating a trill taking the place of the last funeral hymms and songs the soldiers will never receive. Mist slowly rises from the lanterns and obscure the light of the lanterns. Some even rise to follow the moon, until the mist disappears from view all together.
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Re: 10. The Cleanser

Postby Error » Mon Nov 13, 2017 11:19 am

    This has now ended and rabbit448 is the winner!
    Your writing captured a unique tradition within a seemingly vast world! I adored how the knife came into play (when I had drawn it, I wasn't quite sure what it would be used for myself!) and how the cleansers go about cleansing was wonderfully described!
    Congrats!
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