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Music Video 2: Commander of the Crows
YouTube Version
Text Transcripts
The video is set to the song "Commander of the Crows" by Lauren Estes. The lyrics will be transcribed in brackets [ like this ] and precede a description of the scene that happens during them.
The video has parts where a series of images transitions quickly in succession, or where an entirely new scene is shown. Scene transitions will be noted with an asterism, like this: ⁂
The video is fully coloured.
I was all alone
I didn't do a thing to lose
The ones I called my own ]
On the table is a letter next to a haphazardly torn-open envelope. The letter is an acceptance letter addressed to "Emfoi" for the Central University of Jesenne.
A quick glimpse is shown of a flashback of Jacques watching his parents arguing in the distance.
A younger Jacques is on the phone with Reception2, speaking to him through a Celes IPC. Jacques is wearing his traditional clothing from Passryne: a plain red dress with a white collar and a white bonnet.
Another scene flashes of Jacques crying, saying « Je veux le faire moi-même ! »
Returning to the present, Jacques is packing a suitcase of clothes, his acceptance letter and ID card and a Celes IPC. He leaves quietly, reacting only with a sense of dismay at his childhood home, a frame photograph of his family on the wall: Jacques held by his father, and his brother held by his mother, the three Crows looking at Jacques with dark eyes unlike Jacques's own golden irises. His family members are dressed completely in greyscale clothing, contrasting against Jacques's signature red dress.
Crows would watch me wander so
Knowing eyes were not surprised
That I was never going home ]
Without so much as a goodbye to his family, Jacques leaves Passryne forever, the other Crows watching and whispering about him on his trek towards the village's exit.
And all the children too
From the doctors at the hospital
And everyone I knew ]
At the university, Jacques stands in front of the school heads, presenting his final dissertation entitled "Feasibility Study of the Legal Requirements of the Living: A Final Requirement for the Course of Jurisprudence". The heads, a black Cat and a Mantis, stare down at the thesis before looking at Jacques, promptly slamming a graduation cap on his head and giving him a diploma, ushering him away.
"Congratulations. You pass."
"Don't come back."
At the Court of Jesenne, Jacques, now a Judge, is wearing a pair of red headphones and holding an IPC, walking inattentive to his surroundings as he is immersed in a call. "I have no idea how you convince yourself your idea is practical," the person at the other end says.
"It do—" Jacques is interrupted when he bumps into another Judge, an Owl. The Owl's eyes widen in surprised, his conversation with a Fairy disrupted. "Hello? Did you knock into something again?" the caller says.
The two other Judges stare at him awkwardly. "O-oh… Emf—uh, Jacques," the Owl says with a terse smile.
"Hello…" the Fairy mutters.
Jacques pushes both of them aside without a word, continuing on his way as the Judges can only look at him with a sense of disappointment.
"Anywayssss, as I was saying. Something like that won't work," the caller continues.
And the demons down below
Over those bleak years I got the name
Commander of the crows ]
The scene cuts to the High Judge Anthony, crying as he desperately tries to say something, before the scene alludes to him Dying. The Media, in the form of Karina, announces "All Courts are expected to elect a Representative to replace the High Judge ♡" in response to his Death. The eventual candidates from each Court are shown:
- Court of Quielle - Ezreal Niv, a Bear
- Court of Liscon - Marina Coscio, a Dryad
- Court of Tinrymin - Nagi Zkonon, a Mantis
- Court of Neofrene - Cornelia Peskowitz, a Human
Media, now in the form of Anthony, sits back with his legs on the table, casually perusing through the files and stopping at the last one:
- Court of Jesenne - Jacques Emfoi, a corpse, este a Crow (a corpse of a Crow)
Elected Representative for High Judge
Name: Jacques Emfoi
Species: Corvus sapiens
Gender: Male
Assessment (sent by Regional Judge):
"Oh God please just take him already. He's like one of three people here who actually took that damned Jurisprudence course and he thinks that makes him so special. He barely talks to anybody and when he does it's just to spout this weird theory he has about 'the inherence of dignity' and how that's by far a better standard for the Living, because he thinks love isn't real? Or something like that. I honestly don't understand what he's saying.
Media's hand covers up some of the text in the document:
Furthermore, it makes the other Judges really uncomfortable to have…dition, when it would be far more… the surgery… so we… doing…
The scene quickly flashes to a snapshot of Jacques's and Media's first meeting, Media still in the form of Karina. Jacques looks timid and nervous as Media holds his hand, her tail wrapped around the Crow, keeping him close. "Nice to finally meet you," the Media says with a smarmy smile
Murder on the roof
We had a lot in common
And we had a lot to prove ]
Anthony, sitting on the floor with a strange liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth, stares up at a blood-stained Two. With a sharpened finger raised threateningly, Two stares back at him, their expression full of determination.
Karina-Media holds a portrait of Anthony, Reception standing in front of them. Anthony still has his eyes in the portrait. The photo then transitions to him after his eyes are gouged out, covered with a blindfold.
The scene changes to Media, now in Anthony's form, holding Anthony's portrait whose face is replaced with a multitude of eyes. Reception is now covered in blood, Two's hands shaking as One and Three behind them wear upset expressions.
A silhouette of Karina-Media and a younger Jacques morphs into Anthony-Media and an older Judge Jacques, Media cupping the latter's beak in his hand. Media and Jacques talk about something, with their old telephones shown in the background.
Fell upon a secret rune
With my army close behind me
It was time to make a move ]
A stained glass image shows Media and Jacques dancing, Media smiling with his eyes closed and Jacques with a vaguer, confused expression. The silhouette of an unknown figure intermittently flashes by. The figure has a clock in place of their eye and multiple arms surrounded by wires.
The other Maldevaran Marginals, the Curator, the Security and the Reception are shown together.
The High Judge's crown is shown on a velvet pillow.
We pierced the fearless night
Then the morning was the messenger
Who saw us all in flight ]
With Jacques elected as the new High Judge, he now resides with the Media in the Court of Neofrene's manor. A glimpse of his new life behind closed doors is shown, a scene of him reading a book in Braille and of him alone with Media in his office, the two intimately close to one another. Painted illustrations of Media with his microphone and Jacques with his cane are shown.
And who pulled my world apart
Only hopelessly recall the name
Commander of the crows ]
Media and Jacques are walking next to each other, having a pleasant conversation. In a split-second, something unknown flashes behind Media. Media looks behind him in surprise, shoulders tensed, when suddenly Jacques grabs hold of his hand.
Media stares at his hand in Jacques's, then at Jacques himself, a blush overtaking his face. Jacques looks away with a more neutral expression.
"This is Illegal," Media says, looking away without any real motion to resist.
"I left my cane at home," the Judge rationalises.
Notes
I didn't write a note for this video either the first time I posted it, which is odd in retrospect since it's one of the more 'lore-filled' ones. At one point I considered this a 'main' update but it's kind of jarring having it between the fourth and fifth chapter so now it's a 'bonus' update, especially since it dwells mostly on only Jacques's backstory.
I talked about him a little in the notes for one of the older Bread Crumbs. Here, we get to see a little of Jacques's life after leaving Passryne to go to college (waouh they have higher education in Maldevara?!?!) and eventually becoming one of the rare voluntary Judges to fulfill his dreams of spending the rest of his mortal life with the evil scary hideous violent terrible eldritch tyrannical monster.
Turns out the monster's kinda just some guy.
… Actually, this video's straightforward enough that I don't have much else to note, so I'll just share some more Unnecessary Lore again:
- Passrynians only have two eye colours: black or gold. Gold eyes are a recessive trait so they are less common but they aren't so uncommon as to be shocking or unusual: approximately a fifth of the population has them. You can see in Jacques's family photo that he's the only member of his family with golden irises. His blindness is caused by congential cataracts, and they make his eyes a little faint in colour, but the cataracts themselves aren't the reason why his eyes are gold.
- In his first design, his eyes were just white circles without any irises/pupils. This wasn't because he actually had white pupils but was a stylistic choice. This was before most of the other characters were designed, and it was changed later on for consistency, since every other character had visible pupils, and I didn't like how it would look like the 'blank' pupils were because of his blindness and not just as a part of the art style. Some of the older drawings have them looking quite faint as a sort of 'compromise' or 'transition' but newer drawings of him make his pupils clearly visible.
- Since Jacques is blind, he doesn't tend to 'look' at things in a focused way, instead facing its general direction. When he's speaking to a taller person, he doesn't look up at their eyes/face and just 'looks' at their chest.
- Primary and secondary education is free and mandated by the state, lasting about 12 years, and tertiary education (college/university) is optional, but is also subsidised and regulated by the government to a degree depending on which school you go to. A course lasts four years and grants you a degree. There is no equivalent to graduate school in Maldevara. Since 'essential' services are handled by the government and 'Responsibilities' take precendece over employment, getting a job (which is typically for recreation, self-improvement or for money for additional luxuries) isn't as strongly reliant on academic achievements and often rests more on personal relations and good standing in one's community.
- Jurisprudence is a 'special' course that very few people ever take (since Living beings don't really deal with the Law, it's not a particularly useful course). When Jacques took it, he was the only one who did so that academic period.
This video was done on Camtasia, before I learned to use Aviutl, so the transitions/animations are kind of… bad. Camtasia is not suited for this sort of thing. There's also one frame near the beginning where the text on Jacques's acceptance letter got overlapped that I missed in editing. Eek!
Prose 2: An Archetype of a Person from Universes Before
Music: Yoshitaka Hirota - Town of Twilight
If there's something you have learned from living across several billions of Universes, it's that Reality tends to write the same set of familiar traits into specific sorts of characters in even the most divergent of Worlds. That is to say, certain people fit into archetypes, and a particular one that popped up sometimes was the conspiracy theorist who sat in a dimly lit room typing political scandals into dark web forums on a 3 AM, every so often adjusting cracked glasses with spindly fingers and dirt-encrusted nails, cloaked only in a plain hoodie, the scent of strewn-about pizza boxes and an undiagnosed personality disorder.
You should have expected as much, when the Reception told you their so-called friend ("You make friends now, Reception?") came from Hicktown Nowhere west of Whistlestop Island (Passryne, in itself, was another archetype: one of Reality's favourite jokes to play, places without proper irrigation), but it still surprised you to see the Crow that had, for the past few years, been obsessively calling the joke of a radio broadcast you believed nobody listened to, looked exactly like the kind of person who walks out of a jerkwater town.
Between the demure posture, the hand-sewn dress, and the almost laughably stereotypical old-timey villager bonnet, you mentally catalogue Jacques Emfoi under the class of people who got their water from wells.
"How do you get water?"
"Hmm?"
"In Passryne."
"Um. From wells."
They get the water from wells.
"Um, we also use a pump sometimes, I suppose," he adds, as if this was supposed to be impressive. And who knows? Maybe it is to him. You had little idea exactly how far behind his village was in terms of development: the Crows who lived there never let you in, and despite your reputation, you weren't the type to just enter anyway and colonise the place. You had some sense of decency above the previous iterations of "you".
Regardless, the gap wasn't too large between being a lonesome villager wanting to learn about the world beyond, and a barely coherent conspiracy theorist who blew up your phone with words that were strung together too confidently for the amount of sense they made. Given a person who had never had an education and who wasn't even born in a hospital, what really could you expect from him in terms of knowing things?
It made you feel a bit silly for agreeing to meet him personally in the first place, here in the temperate woodlands that surrounded his home (another stereotypical sort of location, you think), and even Reception, as ridiculous as they could be, had pointed this out before you left ("What, haven't you met enough crazy fans?"), but you justified it as a sort of… diplomatic effort. A convenient gateway into Passryne, you explained.
Well, at least that's what you're going to write in the reports. The real reason was that with all the missing marbles this guy had in his head, there was an unadulterated silence in the moments he took collecting them: in the pauses between his telephonic declamations (and there were plenty, in between words that did not warrant pausing for), you could hear nothing from the other line but white noise and occasionally, what you assumed were his parents.
This immediately unsettled you the first time you got off the phone with him, although at first you couldn't pinpoint why—he stops talking, you hear nothing, seems like base Reality—although it hit you, a few days after you had started allowing him to prattle into your messages unprompted, that it was not simply that you could not hear his voice, it was that you couldn't hear his thoughts either.
Now, you were no mind reader, or listener, or whatever appropriate sense you'd attribute to the art of discerning thoughts, but for as long as you can Remember being you (or the approximation of you, whenever it was you began), you always had a cognition, regardless of how undefined at the edges, of what people were thinking. You weren't sure if you could simply chalk it up to being old and having met every archetype of person to exist, or whether it was an extension of the communication-based powers that the powers-that-be in the hidden nooks of your Universe cooked up for you, but in every conversation you've ever had, you always had a notion of what people were about to say next, uncannily accurate at best and kinda-sorta along the same lines at worst.
You weren't sure what made him an exception, and the vulnerability made you ill at ease, despite how little it actually affected you. What, after all, was he going to be able to do to you? A mortal who obtains his water from wells?
He stands in front of you, a little too close for comfort, not having said a word while you were ruminating on his peculiarity, and, if he was bothered by the fact that you bypassed pleasantries to ask about hydration, he didn't show it. Or maybe he did? Perhaps there was an entire Passrynian culture of body language, unbeknownst to you.
'Might be a trick of the phone' theory is out of the window, you think to yourself, somewhat bitterly, even seeing him in person doesn't make reading him any easier.
"Well? What did you want to talk about?" you hiss when having him stare up at you in (what you surmise to be) starry-eyed fascination was starting to get on your nerves. "Surely, if it's another one of your 'grand ideas,' we didn't have to go all the way to this place."
"What do you look like?"
"What?"
"Your appearance," he states, with an expression that suggests sheepishness but a tone that sounds almost… condescending. "What does… it look like?"
"You are looking at me, are you not?"
"I can't see."
"You can't—what?" you pause, waiting for some sort of clarification, but he continues to simply gawk at you, this time in an insouciant manner, and it actually makes you slither back a few inches. You were getting flustered now, in a way that was disproportionate to the (lack of) severity of the situation. You clutch your umbrella, and feel a dull shame at the idea of beating up a blind person with it over the terrible crime of being… weird.
Weird? Surely, you've seen weirder. There must have been something else bothering you.
"Why not?" you ask when it becomes clear he will neither elaborate nor repeat himself. "Haven't you ever been in a hospi—never mind. It seems a bit of an important thing about you, isn't it, not seeing, why haven't you ever told me that before?"
"Euh, I did, actually. It was actually the first thing I ever told you."
"You did not." The blatant defenciveness in your voice was almost humiliating. You're getting gaslighted in a forest by an insane bird in a funky hat. This is not how you planned to spend your Thursday.
"Yes, I did. I told you, I'm losing my sight, and um, you went on some spiel, about motivation and having concrete goals and potentially seeing a—a psychologue or whatever it was you called it. Well, I believe you took me metaphorically then, and I was so embarrassed for you and that I did not have it in me to correct you."
He says this with a flat tone, but not one that sounded of boredom, but one that you would ascribe to a dead man, you imagined, if the dead were to reluctantly stumble back to life, pausing and dipping in all the wrong places.
Or maybe it's the accent, which in your World would just be a mocking facsimile of *French.
Ah, French people, zombies, they're literally the same thing, you remark to yourself, and this time it's your turn to shut up and wait for him to continue.
Nobody speaks for several moments, then he sits down on the grass, then smooths his skirt a bit, adjusts the ribbon on his bonnet and lies down. He is lying down. On the grass. His wings are crossed over his chest, in what appears to be a mimicry of a corpse. The utter irrelevancy of this action made you feel an emotion that was uncomfortably close to… anger. And you don't know what was worse, the fact you were angry about something so absurd, or the fact that a Living person could even provoke you into such worthless rage at all.
"I also told you I couldn't read," he says, eyes now closed, "several times, in fact."
"I thought you meant you were illiterate."
Without getting up, he picks up a flower aaand now he's eating random plants. You don't understand why this bothers you so much. A bit odd, you'll say that much, but not odd enough to legitimise the genuine agitation you were feeling at the moment. Weirdness wasn't a crime, and if anything, it wasn't particularly weird at all, and maybe that's why the situation bothers you.
"Are you going to answer my question? Quite frankly, I had hoped you'd be able to understand me but right now I get the sense that you're just judging me."
"I am not judging you," you say, brimming with judgment. "And I look like the last High Judge. Karina Lonfhardee. A Lamia. Um, a snake woman."
"Well, my mother told me you look like a terrifying monster. With thousands of eyes, and rows of sharp teeth." He bops his head softly to a rhythm only he can hear, some stereotypical action that detaches you from the present and places you, both gentle and unwelcome, into a nauseating sense of déjà vu.
"Who do you believe, then?" you mutter, in a voice that starts with (the approximation of) you and gets defined at the edges as… someone else. An archetype of a person from Universes before.
"I do not suppose it is all that important. I might as well believe in my own conceptions."
He was not just weird, you realise, as the silence that follows makes the obscurity of his thoughts all the more noticeable. He was, almost intolerably…
Notes
If you ask me, the worst thing about Homestuck is that now nobody will ever believe I intentionally write in second person to fulfill a specific 'vibe'.
Third person is difficult for me to write with multiple characters due to pronoun confusion, and first person feels icky to me. Too personal and intrusive somehow to 'self-reference' when speaking. You know, when I write these notes 'I' don't actually write them but have a 'facet' of me do so. A 'character'. I'm having one of those schizomoments, except the moment lasts a lifetime.
Second person it is.
I believe this story is relatively straightforward: Media meets his obsessive caller Jacques in real life for the first time. I really wanted to portray in what way Jacques is 'eccentric' and tried my best to push that awkward, almost 'vacant' disposition typical of a schizoid-schizotypal, especially one who does not 'mask' to appear 'normal'.
I think when people write 'eccentric' characters, they're portrayed as either being zany and hyperactive (if they're meant to be likeable people) or amoral and even disrespectful of boundaries (if they're not). Disclaimer for possible bias where this isn't actually the 'trend' and my limited media consumption merely gives me the wrong impression.
Regardless, I think there are usually two mental 'frameworks' these types of characters are written as having, even if the creators are likely not aware of it consciously.
The first is that the character's 'framework' of reality is not grounded in 'material reality' and that their sense of logic and understanding is meant to be 'unhinged' and often arbitrary.
Sometimes this is meant to show the character is endearing or funny, with a 'child-like' logic. (Winnie the Pooh, Animaniacs, and Adventure Time characters are an example of this). Other times it is meant to show the character is dangerous and cares only for their own 'twisted' logic (Batman villains… maybe?).
The second is that the character understands reality 'as it is' but deliberately ignores it, for one reason or another. 'Eccentric geniuses' and villains whose 'strangeness' is due to a distaste for what reality is fall under this.
Although I don't think I'm skilled enough to portray this clearly, I think the 'framework' of schizospectral logic isn't really either of these things. While most believe that the schizospectral's 'eccentricity' is due to an inability to 'understand' reality, I think it is more accurate to say the disruption is in how the individual views themself in relation to reality and vice versa.What this means is that the individual can understand their 'self' as their own private, personal possession. And they can understand the world that exists outside of themselves 'as it is' as well. But they cannot accurately reconcile how these two relate, and attempts to do so is what causes the 'eccentricity'. Attempts to form a cohesive 'self-world' structure leads to confusion of how much of the previously private self remains 'self' when 'integrated' into the world, and how much of the previously external world, which is 'othered,' remains 'other' once you interact with it.
This leads the individual to navigate the world not from one 'framework' of logic but from two of them: 'reality' as it is interpreted in one's self and 'reality' as it is accepted by society, the latter typically regarded as the 'actual' material reality.
While neither of those earlier frameworks I described above are bad or un-interesting, they aren't quite what I like. The first I described lacks an aware -ness of the socially negotiated reality, the latter on the other hand implies the personal reality is still somehow 'fake' or at least irrelevant.
Such characters are likely not written to be schizospectral, to be fair. Still, it would be nice to see a character written with that framework in mind, of living with two overlapping 'realities' of which the material one is still recognised to be 'real' and socially accepted but of which the personal one is not devalued.With Jacques, specifically, I like to write him as living like this constantly, in a manner almost dull in its mundaneity, especially when most deliberately schizospectral 'eccentricity' I see is confined to psychosis, which itself is portrayed as loud and biting and sensationalised.
'Eccentricity' that is free of judgment, you see, is actually pretty boring.Löre 2: The High Judges of Maldevara
Theme: Crusher - Wicked
La da dee dee da dee da dee day
La da dee dee da dee da dee day
The day of a funeral, the mourners dressed in black
They came to say their piece and go; no, they're not looking back!
I was the first to arrive and the last one to leave
Time ticked on without me while I waded through the grief
I'm drowning in my goodbyes when I start to realise
I'm not quite sure who died until a chill runs up my spine
Six feet under and now I start to wonder
If, for all this time, perhaps the funeral was mine…
I know I can't be mad, but I'm absolutеly livid!
To think that I was dead when I thought that I was living…!
Just take mе as I am, a memory so vivid…
And savour all the parts you can 'cause no one mourns the wicked!
La da dee dee da dee da dee day
Absolutely livid!
La da dee dee da dee da dee
A memory so vivid…
No one mourns the wicked!
Here lies our dearly beloved
Who suffered a lack of common sense
And though we'll miss her
The best thing to do here is let the Dead rest
This is the part where the real work starts
Where I reap what I've sown, and own up
When the harvest begins
Let it wash away my sins
Never tilled a field with seeds to grow
Never watered, weeded, picked or eaten
Anything of my own, on my own
But I know I've got to
Tend to the ends I loosened over time
And put out the bridges I set on fire
That's right, it's gonna take a while
To clean up the mess I left behind
This is the part where the real work starts
The real work starts
Where I reap what I've sown, and own up
And pay what I owe
If after all this time, you find I'm all but timid
Bear in mind that turning tides could leave an ocean winded
My heart will only grow with me who owes to mend it
And as seasons come and go, living on becomes the ending
I know I shouldn't laugh, but it's hard not to do
The shallow grave my temple claimed was just the hole I dug myself into
Just take me as I am, a memory so vivid…
And then savour all the parts you can, 'cause no one mourns the wicked!
We all could use some mending!
Living on becomes the ending!
A memory so vivid…
No one mourns the wicked, oh…
No one mourns the wicked
The majority of political and legal affairs in Maldevara are automated and handled through the use of "magical" technology. Due to economic and social structure of the nation, most conflicts are personal and do not need legal attention, with the few exceptions handled primarily through the use of robots.
As such, the Judges, despite being the only sort of Maldeveran "politician," do very little in regards to actually handling Living legal issues. For the most part, the Court is seen as an unconventional "punishment" system whereas those unable to properly fulfill their Responsibilities and assimilate to their community are sent.
The primary way to become a Judge is to "lose" an election: that is, once every seven years, the Citizens list down those they consider "valuable" to their community (oft loved ones and influential figures) and the "least valuable" are carted away to live in the Courts. While uncommon, one can also voluntarily become a Judge.
Most of their work involves "maintaining" the Marginals themselves, through the rote memorisation of specific Codes and studying various media from the Marginals' Worlds.
Due to the close proximity to the Marginals, the Court is often affected by the "gravity" of their Thoughts pulling at the Living World's "Reality" to be closer to theirs: as such, living in the Court puts one in this "in-between" state which often disrupts one's sense of identity and reality. To nullify this somewhat, they are mandated to live a mundane life free of most hobbies, interests and relationships, as "heavy" Thoughts exacerberate these "disruptions."
As a result of these reality disruptions, most Judges develop their own sense of idiosyncratic thinking and behaviour colloquially referred to as "Judge Syndrome."
As a result of Project Maldevaran's approval, the Judges now also handle legal issues of the sentient Non-Living.
There are five Courts of Judges: one for each Region in Maldevara (Neofrene, Tinrymin, Liscon, Quille, Jesenne). Altogether they are referred to as "the Court of the Living."
Fach court elects one representative for High Judge among which the Marginals choose from themselves. The High Judge, regardless of Court of origin, is sent to live near the Court of Neofrene with Maldevara's Representative.
The High Judge is the only Judge allowed to pass and revise Laws, and also has some bearing in executive decisions of the government, although for the most part, they are seen as a figurehead with the Representative able to veto most of their decisions.
By virtue of what it takes to get elected to begin with, the High Judges are often known to be erratic, so the Citizens often view their exploits as a form of entertainment, with their activities, legal proceedings and even death often publicly broadcasted.
Although it is technically illegal to deliberately put the High Judge in danger without good reason, the Media often sees the Judges as fancy pets and likes messing with them while still being within the boundaries of the Law.
Except for the current High Judge, who seems to be exempt from his sadism.
Most of the time.
Text Transcripts
The High Judges of Maldevara (well, some of them)
A Fairy flies next to Reception3. Three is holding a cushion with the High Judge crown. The Fairy, Renaia, says "It's too big" and Three scowls, replying "I can tell."
Renaia is roughly eleven inches tall. She looks like a humanoid with dark brown skin, curly black hair tied into two space buns and pink irises. She has no nose and pinkish-purple butterfly-like wings. Her outfit is a purple top with puffy white long sleeves, a collar that looks like leaves, pumpkin pants in the same shade of green, white stockings and purple Mary Janes. Light pink sparkles surround her hair and wings.
Renaia Parisille. Fairy from the Court of Jesenne. Elected for being a huge narcissist and criticising every other fairy's gardens.
Most known for popularising those snooty competitions where people have the best homes and gardens and all that. Pretty well-received by most of Maldevara except for those living in the aquatic regions, because her hydrophobic ass couldn't be bothered to visit.
High Judge for one year and four months.
Reception1 holds a blanket next to a sleeping Len. Len is a tall Wolf with dark violet, almost black fur and a white face. He has a relatively tall and broad-shouldered build and prominent ears. He is dressed in black robes with a white collar. Media in Renaia's form flies next to them.
Len Archival. A Wolf from the Court of Neofrene. Elected for falling asleep at every. Single. Trial.
Most known for implementing mandatory nap times for the Courts. As in mandatory. You better be fucking asleep.
The Len is short for Lenjamin.
High Judge for three months and twenty-three days.
Reception2 pushes Luzvimin who is in a large tank bolted to a trolley. Luzvimin eats a slice of pizza and holds a fish-shaped mug, announcing "Prepare the hors d'oeuvres!" Media in Len's form is next to them holding a jug.
Luzvimin is a Mermaid with paper white skin covered in blue and pink spots, light blue irises with dark blue sclera and prominent blue circles on her cheeks. Her hair is blue with a teal gradient near the tips, and is styled in pigtails with a side ponytail that curls upwards. She has pointy, fin-like ears and her tail is the shame shade as her hair. Her outfit is a dark blue top, a blue choker and an exaggerated fluffy vest in pink, green and teal. She wears golden bangles, earrings and a choker.
Luzvimin Lucille. Mermaid from the Court of Liscon. Elected for reckless behaviour, constant noise and eating too much without sharing.
Most known for getting criticised once on national TV regarding her eating habits and subsequently replacing the entire water supply of Neofrene with orange fizzies for two whole months in retaliation.
Despite eating nothing but junk food, her teeth are perfect.
High Judge for two years and fourteen days.
Three tries to push a trolley that Media, in Luzvimin's form, is seated in. Three skids along the floor when Uloron lifts the trolley up, smiling gleefully. Media announces "Prepare the horse divorce!"
Uloron has a robotic appearance, with a cylindrical legless torso that floats through the propulsion of energy rings. They have extendable metallic arms and white gloves. Their face has silver skin and in place of eyes is a green visor with a pixellated display. Their teeth also resemble monitor lines. They have white hair styled in a bob and black headphones that seem attached to their hair itself. A large glowing green 'halo' surrounds their entire body. Their only clothes are a white collar with a green ribbon.
Uloron Entriéta. From the Court of Quielle. Species undisclosed, but definitely Alive. Elected for their exceptional skills in engineering proving useful in certain settings. Settings such as having the Council of the Marginals making sure they stop rigging electronics to explode. It is presumed that they experimented on their own body, contributing to their robotic form. Might have been in a War once. Most known for their contributions to security systems, both at a home and national level. Worked 98% of the time. The other 2% was aimed specifically at fucking with the Reception.
High Judge for four years, eight months and nine days.
Karina is happily talking to Media, who is now in Uloron's form. One watches them.
Karina is a Lamia. She has brown skin slightly tinted gold, sharp fangs and sharp nails protruding out of black gloves. Her black hair has a golden ombre and cyan flecks. Her hair is about chin-length and flares out at the edges, with two prominent cowlicks at the side of her head. Her tongue is yellow, and she has a noticeably wide grin with a visible buccal flap/cheek membrane. Under her eyes are three golden spots.
Her outfit is a black top that flares out at the hem and sleeves decorated with golden scallop trimming, a black corset with a golden jacquard-like design and a collar that resembles a cobra's neck band coloured the same as her tail. Her lower body is a long snake tail with light purple scales and golden and cyan flecks here and there, with an ochre underbelly. She also has a rattle at the end of her tail.
Karina Lonfhardee. Lamia from the Court of Tinrymin. Reasons for election undisclosed. Nonspeaking, but is easily interpreted by the Marginals using their technology. As most of the Living from Tinrymin, her name is not pronounced the way it's spelled. Liked hosting contests asking for recordings of people pronouncing her name, and rewarding anybody who gets it right. In the eleven months she was High Judge, 1.76% of the total participants won.
While not known for any public projects, it is presumed she contributed a great deal of supranatural research for the government.
Kept eating the rats in the attic. Had attempted to eat a bird once.
Disappeared under mysterious circumstances shortly after.
Anthony holds his cane, a worried expression on his face. Behind him are Media, in Karina's form, writing something on a clipboard, and Two holding bandages.
Anthony is a Human with messy auburn hair, light freckled skin and a white blindfold. He is dressed in black robes, a feathery capelet and an Elizabethan ruff. His arms are covered in scars and wrapped in white bandages.
Anthony Tarnowska. Human from the Court of Neofrene. Elected for inciting moral panic in his regional Court on a semi-regular basis. Very reclusive, even by the standards of a High Judge. Had contributed nothing to the general public but is presumed like his predecessor to have contributed much in supranatural research. Kept having visions of the End of the World, which most citizens dismissed as the usual High Judge Syndrome, but the Angels paid an awful amount of attention to the things he said. Gouged out his eyes at one point.
High Judge for one year.
Media, in Anthony's form, hugs Jacques from behind, his arms wrapping multiple times around Jacques's torso. Media grins at him while Jacques frowns, a claw scratching his head in frustration as a blush overtakes his face. Three angrily watches them, pulling out a knife while One and Two berate them.
Jacques is a Crow and looks like every other Crow.
Jacques Emfoi. Crow from the Court of Jesenne. Elected for his educational attainment and the fact the other Judges found him annoying as shit. Most known for revising the Requirements of the Living into Conditional Status. Has been High Judge for twenty-five years and counting. The citizens have resorted to gambling over when it will be his turn to disappear under mysterious circumstances.
Notes
The more practical/logistic side of things is something I struggle to think about as I am not, uh, good at concrete thinking, so the worldbuiling in Maldevara is focused more on the sociocultural side of things.
How mental conditions are handled in Maldevara is something I ponder. The Council of the Marginals claim to have eradicated disability with their technology, although while this statement may lead one to believe in the creation of universal cures, it is more a mixture of medical treatments + sociocultural changes that render things we consider to be disordered in our society as normal or accomodated in theirs.
For example, sensory sensitivities may be disabling in our society but in Maldevara they are seen as normal things some people have, and these people are simply not expected to participate in activites that would trigger these issues. As basic needs are fulfilled by the Marginals, work is not done for survival but for additional luxuries, so there is no pressure to engage in most stressful environments.
While this is overall good, this also leads an additional pressure to those who still struggle to adapt with the more stringent demands regarding social camaraderie, especially as the sociocultural changes the Marginals brought about are relatively new and many people still remember the comparably more demanding society they used to live in.
For that reason it is generally believed there is no reason for anybody to refuse to participate in the Responsibilities given to them outside of intentional malice, especially when lack of citizen cooperation is met with the threat of the Marginals pulling out their support.
This is the primary basis of the Court system, with the Judges composed primarily of those with persistent social difficulties and/or lack of creative output [ as the Responsibilities focus on relationships + creation ].
Systems we use to diagnose mental conditions in real life such as the DSM are obsolete in most of society, but something similar to it is utilised exclusively in the Court especially to pathologise poor interpersonal/ social behaviours. Personality disorders are the most common [ and possibly only ] diagnoses ever given to the Judges.
Cycle One is focused on the more supranatural plot points but in the future I would like to show more about Maldevaran society to show the lives of everyday Maldevarans and the sort of things expected of them, and why the Judges in particular are ostracised as well as how the social dynamics of mental disorders work in their culture.
P.S. Although Renaia is the first Judge I drew here, she wasn't the first Judge of Maldevara: at that point, it just didn't seem important enough to keep drawing more one-off characters.
