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So, who's up for trying to read my mind and doodle my Pumice and Scoria characters?
LIKE SERIOUSLY GUYS, I'm not usually one to jump straight into character creation but i've already got freakin' Gemsona characters in the works! And while I may be pushing the definition of "gem" a little bit, these minerals do occasionally grow crystals, so it totally counts (in my head at least.)

I'm only 2 episodes in and I love Steven Universe. As in, skip over the character analysis phase and go straight to the "design your O.C." phase.
Prologue: A Man of Angels

There is a new truth, a new foundation. But few have discovered it, for the world is cold.

Once, the warmth and light of humanity stretched across the globe, uniting each nation, region and people towards a common purpose. But that purpose was corrupt, an extension of their pride and communal might in rebellion against the ways of the world, and of their Creator. The struggle of man to cast off the control of Heaven led to a long and taxing labor, an experiment in the strength of human will—one that fell apart.

The aftermath of mankind’s folly was horrifying. Millions were wiped out in an instant as destruction wreaked a warping path across the earth. Continents collided, seas foamed and civilization fell as the day closed on the majority of the human race. Night fell, and the strange new world was cold. But when the sun rose, those who survived clung together, crying out in one voice for the comfort and safety of their Creator.

Creator answered, calling these people to not linger in fear, but to boldly claim the land just as they had done before. From his Heaven, the Creator sent his servants, Anneli, to teach the survivors a single language to unite under. Thus the foundation of this world was named Nia Vera, the new truth, and the light of humanity lingered on.

Yet the new land was untamed, and those who survived soon learned they were surrounded by the danger of a dark, frigid world. From the cold rose a conqueror, a Lord above all men, who through secret knowledge and sickening might sought to control Nia Vera. Even the Anneli seemed powerless against his onslaught, as the oppressor known as the Ice Lord and his army were unfazed by the harsh weather and worn terrain.

Creator, Creo, would not let His creation fall altogether. From the remnant He rose up a hero, born of a body of Nia Vera and the light of Heaven—Annelimo, the man of angels, the Light Warrior. His strength matched the supernatural might of the Ice Lord, and his courage inspired all who sought peace. With armor that glowed like a sunrise and a sword that held the strength and light of all people, the Light Warrior gathered the scattered and emboldened the brave, bringing the fight to the Ice Lord’s palace, the Glacial Estate…

… … …

The man’s time to fight had passed; it was now his time to forage.

With heaving breath, he limped into the thicker branches of the dying forest. Night was falling, and the wounded soldier’s torch was already burning low. He tried his best to stay off of the injured right leg, for fear of being discovered if he cried out in pain. Supporting himself against a withered tree, he groped down at the rough ground, looking for kindling to keep his torch lit. As the brambles and sticks he found cut into his grip, he tossed one handful then another into the torch lattice, relishing each soft crackle of the fire.

At least, until he heard a louder crack from the snapping twigs behind him.

Pivoting in fear, the soldier cried out, more from the pain in his sudden movement than alarm. He unsheathed a long knife from his left leg, his only remaining armament, and tried his best to swiftly spin it in his grip. A figure stood in the shadow of slowly growing firelight; only his spear was visible outside of his silhouette. “Who goes there?” the soldier bellowed.

“With a petty presence like that, Barteal, you’d best hope it’s not one of the Lord’s men. Crouched down in a thicket like a whimpering Chuncha, ready for a roast?”

Barteal sighed in relief, his concern returning to his injured leg as he recognized the voice. “Roma, I truly didn’t need that fright.”

“And the Light Warrior doesn’t need deserters in his army, brother!” the other man replied. Roma approached his fellow soldier smirking until he saw the blood around the ankle of Barteal’s moccasins. “Especially not injured runaways.” His concern was still audible behind his accusations.

“I’d never, you pup,” Barteal grumbled back, leaning on his younger companion’s shoulder as he stood once more. “I needed kindling. It’s black as a Pitch Hawk’s down out here.”

“Then why were you off alone?” Roma questioned, bracing Barteal against his shoulders. “Your regiment should return to camp, if you can. Where are they all?”

Barteal swore and spat, his rough stubble catching the force of his anger. “All dead, boy. I was tasked over an hour ago with finding any survivors I could. The Chozen must have taken them all.” He motioned to his bloodied calf. “I finished off a straggler, but not before he’d left me this lovely memento.”

Roma’s smug attitude vanished in an incredulous stare. “Creo above, this is a nightmare. Why…why did we even try?” Roma’s pace had staggered into an even slower motion than his injured comrade’s.

“Try what, boy, to fight?” Barteal sighed as they hobbled a few steps more, unable to summon an answer. Finally the weight crushing him was too much to ignore. “We needed to try. We had everything we could muster: the people’s strength, the resources of the whole of the Great Niavrien Plain. We had him too.” Barteal’s eyes filled with bitterness as he gazed at the razed forest around them, the destruction of the fires of war mixed with the frost of winter—the Ice Lord’s winter.

“It’s more than our chances, though,” he continued, clutching his lantern tighter. “You’re young, Roma. Almost sixteen years, right?”

“Seventeen, you chuncha-son,” Roma managed to laugh out. “Seventeen in 3 weeks.”

“Then you know only of these sights and sounds, of war and waste.” Barteal shook his head as they strode under a low-hanging limb. The forest was thinning; soon they would be back to the battle lines. “As stubborn and slow as I must be, I remember the world before this war. Warmth, Roma. Nia Vera was warm, and bright, beyond the flickering of a fire. It was calm, and the breeze was cool—not the sickening wind he sends us.” Regaining his strength, Barteal shrugged off of his friend’s shoulder. His gaze softened as he saw the reflected inspiration in Roma’s eyes. “It’s a world we can manage, together, with no need of heroes.”

“Do you really believe it?” Roma asked, scraping his spear against the rough ground to remove some stones from Barteal’s path. “That the Ice Lord controls the wind, and the frost?”

“He controls those cursed Chozen, does he not?” Barteal replied. “All the old tales say that neither he nor his followers even feel the cold. I’ve lived long enough in this winter, Roma. No ordinary man resists the snow and ice, the dried out land. No one lasts that long without the Cold Sleep catching ‘em.”

“Oh,” Roma shuddered, all his bravado gone. “I had hoped he merely made his army spread that story.”

“That’s because you Bramahn kids kept away from the fighting, behind those stone walls.” Barteal snorted back. “Outside of the trade-city, you were lucky to have a roof over your head.”

“We came when we could!” Roma shot back, indignant. “It’s not my fault I couldn’t fight for the plains towns. You couldn’t find a sword in that entire city, not until the day the siege began. Then…” Roma, touched by memory, let his voice trail off.

“Then things took our turn for the hopeful,” Barteal nodded. “The Light Warrior, waking up men and women to take arms, turning the army away in a single night—Creo, what I’d have given to be there!”  

“What about him?” Roma asked. “Is he like the Lord, I mean?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, is he Niavrien?”

Barteal blinked and sighed again, shaking his head. “I don’t suppose there’s anything else he could be, unless he hails from the same place that devil comes from. There’s nothing beyond the Northern Range—that’s the place the Ice Lord started his war. And you saw him in Bramah, that night.”

“We’ve all seen him,” Roma replied. “But we don’t know who he is, or was. I’ve seen his face, but I didn’t recognize it from the market streets. His eyes…they just look, somehow, greater.”

“Careful!” Barteal chuckled, nudging Roma. “Open your mouth any wider and you’ll be a true slack-jawed fool—not that you’re fooling anyone now.”

“Call me what you like, old man, but I’m serious! The Light Warrior has another name; I’ve heard some of the officials call him by it.”

“’Annelimo,’” Barteal corrected. “It’s ancient, the old Niavrien, from the Sets.”

“A name based in the Sets!” Roma marveled. “I thought it was just a folk name. Ancient names in those runes carry power, Barteal.” Roma struggled in his excitement to keep his voice low. “The Omefaod traders say those words come from before Nia Vera existed! Oh, I wish someone had told me that ages ago!”

“Some student you are, Roma. They’re on the back of his armor, haven’t you seen them?” Roma admitted by a sheepish glance that he hadn’t. “Too anxious to idolize, unwilling to analyze. You Bramahn men…” Barteal crowed. “It means ‘man of angels,’ or it did in the old days.”

“That settles it, then!” Roma whooped, quickening his pace. “Surely he’s more than just a Niavrien, like us. Maybe he really is an angel.”

“Keep it down!” Barteal hissed suddenly, stifling his torch against the dry ground and plunging the two into darkness. He glanced at alert, holding his breath and furrowing his brow for what felt like an eternity before relaxing again. “At ease, pup,” Barteal exhaled. “I saw some shadows moving past your left. They’re gone now, though.”

“No joke!” Roma groaned. “Of course they are, old man, it’s Malak out here again! You can’t see anything in this darkness.”

“So the Bramahn doesn’t know Ancient, but can still swear in it, eh?” Barteal stood again, wincing as he sharply remembered his wound. “Quit aching, there’s still a faint glow through those branches. That’d be the west camp, no doubt. Now keep your voice low!”

Roma couldn’t be silenced just yet. “But just consider it, Barteal. The possibility of an angel walking among our ranks…”

Barteal turned back and faced his companion, their eyes barely glinting from the weak firelight and subdued glow of the moon. “Pup, you’ve more to learn about the nature of men before you start making claims like that. I don’t know what he is, or what the Lord is. All I know is those two are opposites, set to collide and take all of Nia Vera with them wherever they end up!”

Suddenly both men cried out as the sky surged with a blinding light around them. A creaking, rumbling noise echoed across the desolate forest, ringing in their ears as the ground below shook and groaned. Though the light still bored around his eyes, Barteal blinked and regained a vague sense of shadows and shapes around him. Half blinded, he hobbled to Roma, swinging one arm above the youth’s head protectively.  

“What in Nia Vera was that?” Roma wailed.

“Quiet! Listen!”
The tremors in the earth seemed to match the pulsating wall of light that glared into the night sky. Gradually both dulled in intensity, until only a pillar of fading light reaching up into the sky remained. Soon the air was filled with a new sound: shouting, from seemingly all directions. Barteal and Roma hurried back to the camp, finding the Light Warrior’s army cheering and clanging their weapons together in loud celebration.

Roma was the first to see why, gasping and gesturing to the north. Barteal looked out and gazed in awe at the spectacle before him. The pillar of light, once profoundly bright, was now fading to the dull glow of a star at daybreak, but its source was the greatest surprise. The daunting Glacial Estate, palace and fortress of the Ice Lord, had collapsed into an enormous heap of ice and stone.

“Creo on high, what happened?” Roma exclaimed, mystified. “The fortress is gone!”

“Aye,” one of the other soldiers called out, “and the Chozen along with it! Victory, brothers!”

Barteal and Roma glanced at each other in shock, trying to understand their circumstance. “How, how was this accomplished?” Barteal asked.

“It weren’t us,” another soldier laughed. “We were holding the line at the ridge, on the south side of the old city. Then there’s the flash of light, all the sudden, and the whole wall gives way!”

“No doubt,” a captain said, stepping through the crowd, “it was the Warrior’s work. Annelimo stepped forward with a squad of some of our best fighters. He said he wanted a chance to make it into the fortress and confront the Ice Lord himself.”

“That madman!” Barteal scoffed. “So, that flash was his final blow?”

“What else could’ve it been?” the second soldier cheered. “His sword’s like a bolt o’ lightning anyways, maybe that’s what we seen.”

“But that means…” Roma’s eyes lit up with fear. “He’s still under the ice?”

“Calm yourself, soldier,” the captain replied. “Many of his squadron survived, and are searching the rubble right now. But,” the captain hesitated, then continued, “I would not rule out the possibility that perhaps both the Lord and the Warrior have ceased fighting—”

The sound of horse hooves thudding against the grounded stone interrupted the captain, as a woman in tattered armor rode up and dismounted, a discouraged look on her face.

“Ah, this is one of them,” the man responded. “Graida, I’m glad to see you’re alright. Report, scout!”

The woman’s countenance didn’t improve. “Gone, captain. I can confirm that the enemy has been routed. The Ice Lord is nowhere to be found, but his weapons and armor were confiscated.”

“And Annelimo?”
Graida’s words were slow and cautious. “We were separated. An ambush of stronger, bolder Chozen kept us busy while the Light Warrior charged onward. Not five minutes later, the great flash of light happened. We…did not find him.”

The captain gritted his teeth, bowing his head at the news. “Very well. Continue the search for survivors, and round up the Chozen who remain. They will answer for their injustices towards Nia Vera.”

“But the Light Warrior! What about him?” Roma cried out, rushing forward before Barteal caught him by the hand. The older man’s eyes were full of the weary gaze of a soldier.

“It’s like I said, Roma,” he murmured. “They’ve collided, and now Nia Vera is left to move on. Perhaps…in a world without either Lord or Warrior.”

“No, I refuse to believe it. Not he, not our hero.” Roma shook free of Barteal’s grip, his anxiety clearer than the crystal ice that crunched against his boot. “We can’t give up looking for him!”

Roma turned and ran, sprinting through the rising cheers of his brothers and sisters in arms. Barteal watched the youth’s head disappear beneath the helmets and bared hair of the remnant army of Nia Vera. He exhaled, a sigh visible perhaps for the last time, as the voices of his people rose victorious over the cold.
Prologue: A Man of Angels

Alrighty folks, since my first deviation here on dA I've mentioned how I was working on a larger project as well, a book series I felt was inspired by God from all the way back in 5th grade. Well. a few weeks ago at the end of February I attended a conference called Re:Write: the Ragged Edge, which was essentially a meet up for Christian writers to exchange ideas, get inspired and learn.

And BOY did it inspire me. I've never felt so encouraged, fueled and driven to write before. I'm using my spring break this year as a breakthrough, to finally stop putting off my personal writing due to fear or doubt or laziness or anxiety or ANY excuse. This is my story; this is the first Book of Annelimo!

Er, rather, this is the PROLOGUE of the first book. I'm obviously not gonna post it all here right now, for multiple reasons. I'm not done with it yet for starters, but more importantly, I do intend to publish this book someday--hopefully someday soon.

So, let me know what you all think!
Something really special going up on the site right now.
Hey, somebody who's more in the know about how deviantArt works--have they adopted the Facebook model of "reach" where your exposure online is limited by the frequency with which you post?

'Cuz I know i'm not a consistent poster on deviantArt, but gosh darnit I put heart and soul into each story I write, and seeing none of my usual commenters even look at it aside from the one person I TEXTED it to is really disheartening.

Is there any way I can encourage you guys to leave comments on my stories? Discussion, or jokes, or critiquing, or a simple "hey hi there, I thought your story was (insert comment here)?"

I feel like I'm writing to a void sometimes, honestly. And don't get me wrong, I understand the mindset of the Internet as a whole. If something loses your attention, move on from it. Makes sense to me; but if that's the case just let me know! I miss a lot of you guys and gals.
  • Mood: Frustrated
  • Listening to: My roommate frying chicken (despite his diet)
  • Reading: David Copperfield
  • Playing: Fire Emblem: Awakening


Novacom's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
Hello! My real name's Andrew, and I'm from Illinois in the United States. I'm an actor, singer, writer and gamer. I love all of those things, but there are two loves that go above them: my girlfriend and my Savior, Jesus Christ. I'll leave it to you guys to figure out which one of THOSE two comes first. :D

I wanna address something though, for newcomers and people who know me in real life too. I am in fact a fan of Vore, which is (in most cases but NOT mine) a fetish involving being consumed alive by another living being, for their satisfaction. But i'm trying to challenge that thinking with the story of my own life. This is how i put it:

"I'm a Christian. Up until a few months ago, when i realized these feelings i'd had my whole life meant that i was a voraphile, i believed it was impossible for a Christian to have a fetish. And in a sense, it is: vore doesn't turn me on. It fills me with this incredible feeling, a satisfaction at the contentedness of the predator and the warmth surrounding the prey. This is a connection unlike any other, a symbiosis based off of trust and love, and the desire for pred and prey to do something incredibly kind for each other.

To take the prey inside, hold them in the closest and warmest embrace in existence, a peaceful and soft and warm and squishy resting place ever-warmed by the beautiful beatings of the predator's heart. Prey gain this safety and security and tender care within their predator, and the one who took them in gains the satisfaction of keeping a life safe inside them, holding them close and keeping them safe and sound. And both thrive in the trust and caring wrought by the experience, and often times a contented rest...the predator pleased with their loving snack tucked away within, and the prey being rocked to sleep by a beloved belly and a metronome heartbeat. That's what vore is to me, love and safety and security."

So i hope you'll all look at Vore as something more than a gross quirk, and try to see the beauty of it. I still do; I see it as an innocent and loving bond of trust, despite being imagination. The feelings behind it ARE real, and the friends i've made from it are what matters.


Novacom has started a donation pool!
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I'd like to renew or reacquire a Premium membership! It looks like I'm not gonna be able to afford one on my own...If you guys could help out, that'd be awesome! Don't feel obligated to though.

You must be logged in to donate.

Out of curiosity, whare are my watchers from? 

74 deviants said United States (Name a state in the comments section!)
15 deviants said Europe (U.K, France, Spain, Switzerland, Germany...y'know, Europe)
5 deviants said Australia/Pacific Islands (Someone educate me, does New Zealand, Indonesia and The Philipeans count as Oceana?)
4 deviants said Canada (Name a Province!)
2 deviants said Central America (Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, and then some)
1 deviant said South America (Venezuela, Peru, Brazil, ETC)
1 deviant said Asia/Eastern
No deviants said Africa (as a continent, sorry, too many little countries for me to keep track)
No deviants said Middle East (Doubtful but y'never know!)

Journal History



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gamerman09 Featured By Owner 6 days ago  New member Hobbyist Artist
This is kinda cheap, but I would like top say that I put my first art piece out and would love it if anyone checked it out!
Novacom Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
...Dude are you trying to advertise yourself on my page? :o

Lol it's not even that popular. If you want me to check out your stuff just P.M. me, don't try to turn my page--or any sole dA user's page, for that matter--into your platform. I mean, join a group or something and post this there.
gamerman09 Featured By Owner 6 days ago  New member Hobbyist Artist
To be honest, have no idea what I'm doing....
karcoalga Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2015
Thankies for the fav! ;>
Novacom Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome!
lucariocatcher Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2015  Student Writer
Um... Do you do RPs often?
Novacom Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Rarely, and only with really close friends.
lucariocatcher Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2015  Student Writer
Oh. Ok.
SonicFan1155 Featured By Owner Feb 20, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Hey, check this out! I made a little something for Panda:…
Venex123 Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much for the Favorite! I'm so glad you like my work! ^^
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