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odium. last won the day on April 12 2014

odium. had the most liked content!

About odium.

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  • Birthday 05/30/1917

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    Carpe diem
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    First stage mid-boss.

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  1. Ayy, just to let you know, Muhir isn't accepting updates to its canon any more, invasion is a bit pointless unless you're planning on writing just to write for fun.

    1. Show previous comments  9 more
    2. odium.


      I think you're just making things up, we both know my memory is pristine. They both gave me permission to be the BL of Tellus Mater, not just Muhir, because I was co-leader of Muhir and on the creative team for Rosinder (with you and Damon), and Dre's permission was over Renovatio. Dan and I just want Muhir put to the archive section, it's not like you lose any postcount on the forum, we just don't want our original property being stepped all over. It's not a ridiculous request and from what I've heard, it was the original plan for the subsection in the first place.

    3. supernal


      Only people with perfect recall have a pristine memory. Human memory is shown to be easily influenced, falsifiable, etc and I've seen your own fail on multiple occasions. So I tend not to just go off of someone just telling me they have a perfect memory and not to worry about doubting it. If you can show me any of this then I'll be happy to go along with it but from what I can tell, you're living a dream

      The only issue with your request is that you haven't actually made a request, you just kind of decided on your own what would happen and are taking the initiative to tell active members that "Muhir isn't accepting updates to its canon" when the actual board leader of Muhir, Aleksei, indicated the opposite. Aleksei is the one that decides what becomes canon and what doesn't for Muhir. So like I said, when you want to have that convo, we can have that convo. Send me a PM and include the relevant parties. Until then things are the way they are, which shouldn't be a shocker

      Warlock - thanks for the loan of your wall, I'll move off it now

    4. Haelikor


      Man. If this is why a 21 year contributor to this site was banned, no wonder it's dying. What a dumpster fire. lmao

  2. "... and that's everything?" "Well, that's all he told me. You know what kind of guy he is, I'm sure you can take a stab in the dark at what he's going to end up doing." "And you're not going with him? Don't you have some ancestral obligation to fulfill here, or you've put all that behind you now?" "There's no money in it. I'm not a good man, definitely not a sacrosanct like you, just not... a good man. What would even be the point? To come home to the hatred of the people?" "Sometimes, Kalen, that's all there is... or ever was, for that matter. You plan on giving him the sword then?" "He'll have the three afterwards." "Then why not accompany them, keep an eye on him for me? Call it a favor." "You're fishing out favors from mortals now? Sorry, but that life died with my parents, I'll show him the sword but that's it." "There is always a way back, you know. You just have to be strong enough to take it." "... and when will you find your way and your strength, Alexander?" __________ Hands clasped behind the back fo his head, Christian put his back to grass and watched the universe have its way with the vastness of space. He wasn't one for sleep, but bared it no grudges, his unchecked mind wandered to places too dark for this world when the embrace of slumber came to him. A handful of nights spent at rest in his time being, always the same dream and also the same nightmare. When he finally stood, there was a man already at his back. "You're not supposed to be here. This cemetery is the final resting place of only the three royal families in Elrux." Christian turned with a distant look in his eye, a face full of longing. He dusted the regions of himself one would expect, "I'm sorry.", foot falls saw him pass the caretaker before he paused, "I appreciate how you've kept this place and that headstone... and so does my mother.", without another word he began walking again until distance engulfed him entirely.
  3. Silently he made his way through the city, night brought out the best in her. A beauty faded by the sun that one could only truly witness in the veil of darkness, a cold expanse of space hanging as the sky above and twinkling pinpoints of light scattered across the void to guide his way through all Elrux had to offer those eyes that sought to witness it all. He approached an area that seemed different than the rest of the city's tapestries and grand steeples, it seemed to be stuck out of time, pristine hedges lined marbled towers with faceless statues of angels standing guard at each section. Christian, too, stood frozen in time; everything here and now was forever and never again in less than a blink. Seasons blend around him, light bleeds through the night and dark consumes it again; he'd been here a thousand years or perhaps never at all. The ground beneath his feet shook with tremendous force, or at least that was what he'd convinced himself before a foot—full of trepidation—passed through the foyer, pious angelic figures stare at him as though they had been formed, polished, and upkept for this single instant. Their deafeningly silent shrill shot up his spine, pumping panic and anxiety through his veins. When they did not destroy him, he found himself standing in serenity and eventually his fears and frustrations bled from him. He passed by several sites, knowing well his destination, and before long he was standing at the foot of a grave he last looked upon with adolescent eyes. Crouching down, a white gloved hand spread across the curvature of the headstone, "Where does love come from? Where does it go when it's gone? ... What takes it's place and why does that space turn hard as stone?", he spoke softly, his hand sliding down the gradual slope before gravity dropped him off the rigid edge and with a sigh Christian leaned back to seat himself in the grass. "Sorry I haven't come to visit in a long time. Looks like no one's brought flowers in a while, either.", with his other hand extended, a few seeds dropped from its grip, gradually running his fingers through the blades of grass he could feel the warmth of the All-Mother Tellus Mater herself, mixing ethers with her essence and his own propensity towards nature, stems stretched and erected themselves from Her bosom before budding flowers blossomed in vibrant hues of various petals, "... best I could manage on short notice. I'm sorry." They'd had their fill of drink and were merry in each other's company earlier, now he decided that he would drink of the past and be somber in the company of his memories.
  4. He wasn't one for compliments, in fact he awkwardly avoided them wherever possible, shirking the adult responsibilities that came and went with whatever accolades were attached. However, this specific instance was of importance and Christian knew this wasn't some altruistic favor from one passing stranger to another, "You're welcome.", a smile scored his features before removing his gloves and grabbing a pair of utensils from the table. The atmosphere from their surroundings gradually settled in among them, dissolving any semblance of urgency or ill omens on their horizon. They shared of their meals and conversations of their journeys passed, Christian and Auberon expanding on their last encounter with Charmae and the unfortunate circumstances that caused them to separate. Rounds of drinks came and went and before long they had become just another table of faces in the tavern, chattering and enjoying themselves well into the evening. Charmae was the first to excuse herself, doubtless she had her fill of dinner and probably over indulged in drink, if only a little. Christian always hated to see her go, however certainly did not mind watching her leave. There was always a stitch of paranoia that stayed with him, a creeping though in the back of his mind that as she left it would be for good again. He'd resigned himself to making sure they'd always be together. His attention turned to Auberon as Charmae left his line of sight, "Make sure you don't have too many more, we'll be up out of here in the morning." Christian stood from his chair and wiped his mouth before heading outside to silently watch the night, alone with his thoughts.
  5. The boy spoke of his father, only his voice betrayed him with longing, it was something Christian was familiar with himself. To see his own father again—he steadied himself and not let his mind wander in this ethereal wasteland a moment longer. Astaai was, however, alive and Christian knew just how fleeting those moments spent with loved ones could be. When Charmae leaned in, durandal subconsciously tilted his head closer to her lips, each annunciation tingled the rim of his ear, the sensation causing their flushing and brought a smile to his face. Not to be disrespected, Atticus sought to carve a chunk from this knave, plush teeth rounded Christian's gloved finger and the mighty king thrashed violently with talons pinning the man's hand to the table. He returned to his upright position and with a nod, he obediently agreed to have such a conversation with his lady. His prismatic gaze fell back upon Auberon once more, effortlessly freeing himself from the menacing deathgrip of his Majesty, Christian reached to the upper arm sleeve of his jacket, peeling down at the insignia patch before tugging the stitching free after several tries, "You know this symbol.", he displayed it flatly on the table before turning it over on its backside to reveal another marking that was entirely different, "This one is your father's symbol. He told me that if I ever needed him, I could activate it to find him.", he then slid it partially across the table in the boy's direction, "Should you wish it, it's yours. You have no actual obligation to me, Charmae may well miss your company, but we both understand your desire to be with Astaai." Christian cleared his throat as the maid approached with their entree's, the boy needn't give his answer now, after all they were all famished and the meals before them all looked delightful.
  6. He pulled a chair up next to Charmae and slowly sank down into it. The weight of his day impressing him, though he dare not show such a spectacle about his features. Several plates were in front of them aligned with silver wares and empty glasses for show, accompanied by some festive affair at the table's center. He smiled at it, the master pawing idly at its features before pausing to give Christian the eyes, you know, the ones with barbs and spurs of death. The man merely nodded his head to Atticus before sliding his chair closer to Charmae's side, practically shoulder to shoulder with her now. "Sorry about that, I had a... message from an acquaintance. We've got a small-ish lead about another item and apparently the man knows some things about Joyeuse.", he could smell the buttery appetizers Charmae ordered, "What have you been up to the past couple months?", eyes now staring down Auberon Sol, practically a toddler in his care, though capable enough to fare for himself in these harsh times. He treated the boy like one, giving him a tough time whenever he could, not unlike an elder brother. Sad that he was probably the closest thing Christian had to call a family. However, with Charmae now at his side, they were family enough in his eyes. A wave to the waitress summoned her from the depths of the homey tavern, it was dim lit, but in a most comforting and almost intimate way. He could see it in the eyes of the neighboring denizens at their own tables. Faces tired with the trials of life melted away in the wake of pleasurable company, their jaunty laughs and indistinct chatter rattled about the room by the time their waitress approached the table. She looked to Christian, however instead of ordering for the table, he merely gave Charmae the floor. Knowing how hungry she'd been and what a long day they had, she could very well end up ordering every thing on the menu.
  7. "... Actually, I'm on my way to dinner at the moment.", his room was pristine, not a single thing was out of place compared to before he'd managed to defile it with dark arts and ritualistic scribbles. When Christian spoke a plume of smoke escaped his lips, however it seemed but a veil for a phantom—a vestige took refuge in its wisps and pollution, playing with the ephemeral tendrils until a humanoid shape crept to life. It was the voice of a man, however it was muffled, convoluted in static and further distorted as it echoed through the astral corridor they chose to communicate through, "You s-sss-seNNnt word for m-Mm-MeEEe.", there was a slight pause before a pair of emerald eyes undulated to the surface of this creeping specter, "It seemed urgent or was my concern misplaced, little Chris?", the voice now clearer as if dialed in to a stronger signal. "I'm looking for Cortana, to be blunt." "... The only r-RRreason you'd look for a broken piece of scrap metal like that is... you've found Joyeuse?", the wraith shifted as tendrils of smoke rolled with the boundaries of some makeshift countenance where even the most basic of emotive features flickered across it before vanishing. Christian's frustration was beginning to show, he knocked a clenched fist against the doorway before staring into those two very real eyes floating amongst the incorporeal veil, "Damnit Kalen!! I'm close. You know the purpose and what needs to be done. You've fought for Rosinder in the past, they don't deserve this eternal ordeal they're suffering through as we speak." The echoes of his laughter filled the room, "I've also fought against them as well, that's the life of a mercenary.", there was a long pause, "... being on both sides taught me of their mettle, though. I ditched the sword somewhere on the eastern continent, it's not worth a damn." "Alright. I've got to go. There is someone really important waiting for me and I can't keep her waiting.", his white gloved hand smeared the cigar up and down the door jam, effectively snuffing out its smoldering cherry, "I'll contact you in a few days." "Still the hapless r-rrrrRr-roma-aa-a-ntic..." Christian watched the wisps and motes of smoke as they began to dissipate and fade before the figure called out, he then closed the door behind him before taking to the stairs where he could make out the voices of his two companions. He was hesitant as he did not want to intrude while they were catching up after so long, it went against his grain to be controlling or even seem constricting when it came to the fairer sex. He would approach them when it seemed their conversation was finished, a smile adorning his face as he soaked in Charmae's beauty. He was doing the right thing, he told himself.
  8. He sat in the nude amidst the company of candles and the chiaroscuro shapes of his former haunts and memories. Patterns drawn about the floor surrounding him, wide of arches and hard lines, for a steady hand to essay their crests and falls was an impressive feat indeed. Not unlike his surroundings, Christian was also emblazoned of patterns from head to toe, each symbol a part of something greater. Legs crossed, he penned things into the journal in his lap as wisps of smoke undulated around him, a cigarette bobbed idly between his lips. Each stroke was deliberate, written with frustration perhaps. Test 497 unsuccessful. The patterns of he floor are correct down to the last detail, the spell circle is an exact replica. Unfortunately, the body work and runes are still incompatible. He sketched out—in no small detail—the craftwork and runes that were currently drawn onto his flesh. Christian's eyes drifted to a shallow bowl that sat a few feet before him, a ring depending from a chain rest at its center. He exhaled another plume of smoke, still slightly frustrated. Wounds and lesions came to the surface of my skin as is normal when the light leaves my body. Perhaps the physiological changes to my body's structure have created some sort of host/parasite bond ? Several of his words were underlined for emphasis and the last three were circled several times over. It wasn't long before he noticed the pendulum swinging of the grand clock in the corner, it was almost their appointed time to eat. With the spine of his journal in hand, he snapped the book shut before erecting his frame upright. It wouldn't take him long to tidy things up here and freshen up for supper, "Something's got to give.", he sighed.
  9. Theirs wasn't meant to be an ilk of rapport, for those of valorous hearts and steadfast hands often sift through the sands of time like shade, escaping the light of day for they seek not glory but an ending worthy of themselves. Charmae broke from his side as she called out to the boy, Christian narrowed him in his gaze as the boy essayed the staircase with relative ease. It wasn't beyond him to rake this little punk's face or pull a shock of his hair as he tripped him to the ground, previous occasions had proven necessary as Auberon was wont to be late. Though the situation was slightly different, as Christian was merely early and the boy just so happened to be there—luck of the draw, "Well, it's nearly supper time. I suppose you've just woken up?", he cast somewhat of a judgmental sidelong glance, as if a disappointed elder brother of sorts. With his room key in his hand, he bowed ever so slightly in Charmae's direction, "Apologies, but there are some things I have to take care of, you and the Master might want to take the time to freshen up as well, I believe the hostess said they won't be serving dinner for another half hour.", he passed Auberon along the stairs, holding up his bundled jacket for the spheres inside to clink around, the chimes of his successful haul for the boy to hear. Before long, he found himself behind closed doors in private. His trembling hands dropped the jacket and the orbs scattered across the floor. It wasn't long before he followed, hands and knees awkwardly and unevenly collapsed against the floor boards. Sweating profusely, Christian began heaving and convulsing before a tar like vomit spattered and smeared the ground. He struggled to remove his now soaking wet long sleeve shirt before spreading out, belly up, right next to the bed. Cigar now in his mouth, he merely took of deep and calming breaths as he stared aimlessly at the ceiling, never even bothering to find his cigarette lighter.
  10. They continued their walk through the city in unison, each step was taken together, his gait set to match hers and keep their pacing perfectly. Atticus scampered around their feet, running between Christian's legs as he was unsure whether or not to trip the man as it would doubtless bring his Charmae down with him. It was a perplexing thing to mull over as he padded along through the streets with the pair of lovebirds. When she called his name, Christian turned down to look at her, "I wouldn't mind meeting your family, at all.", her hand slid down the length of his arm before their hands clasped and fingers were interlaced. He could sense her voice, a calling from far away in the darkness, a distressed signal of loneliness. It was her again, desperate for interaction or communication or affection; he wasn't sure, though nothing good could come from her calling. When Charmae started to swing their hands, the echoes of that voice died down until only the three of them remained. "Yes, I could eat.", they came to a stop at the grand entrance of the tavern and inn, where he was to meet up with Auberon in a week's time. Perhaps he could steal a few intimate moments away with Charmae at dinner before Atticus interrupted them again, he thought to himself. It wasn't imperative that they be alone, but Christian felt the need to spend more time with her than almost anyone he'd ever met before. It pumped through his veins and beat in his heart, a feeling about this woman he couldn't shake, no matter how he tried, "Let's see what they have on the menu, yeah?", a gloved hand raised as to gesture Charmae forward, into the tavern.
  11. Come back to the discord, I'll get your permissions to post set.

  12. When they came out of the wind tunnel, the blurred world around them eventually found its shape as focus took form to objects and blended colors found their normative boundaries where streaks of shapelessness formed the tapestries of buildings and even the features of passing faces. The air dispersed around them in a vortex that kicked tendrils of dust and debris into a helix in the atmosphere above them. Christian could feel Charmae's hands wrapped around the back of his neck, her blushed lips wet with all the intentions of securing a bond between them in that paperthin space where love and lust interlaced like fingers of lover's clasped hands. At the same time he could feel Joyeuse through Charmae again, it was a dangerous thing, to make them all aware of one another at the same time. Something Christian wasn't necessarily ready to allow happen just yet, so Atticus's intervention was a blessing in disguise. A kiss stolen from a private moment between unsuspecting lovers allowed Charmae to find her bearings, with their separation, she hoist Atticus in the air and spun him around like some wonderful stuffed prize won at a fairgrounds game. Christian was also able to reset himself, those sunglasses found sanctuary about his features once more, and when Charmae put Atticus back to the ground, the mighty lion galloped over to Christian before leaping to the height of his waist for a little high-five low-five action. "Great plan, your highness. Couldn't have done it without you.", the lion glowed once more before alabaster gloved hands returned to pockets, resisting the urge to retrieve a cigarette, Christian organically followed Charmae's follow-up inquisition, "Auberon? Right. We should probably head to the inn I left him in the care of.", Charmae had dropped the jacket durandal gave her in order to lift the mighty lion into the air and Christian would once again pick up that keepsake of Rosinder once more. "Luckily we're not far from there now.", I mean, it wasn't like he'd planned their escape route ahead of time or anything. He turned in its direction, his elbow poking out ever so slightly in order for her to wrap her arm around his once more should she choose.
  13. Though he had a propensity for flippancy, he wasn't one for drawn out arguments or necessarily slinging passive-aggressive insults at others. That was where a line in the sand was drawn, a dichotomy between himself and the so called nobles who sat atop their thrones and looked down their noses at everyone they deemed unworthy, "I'm just a gypsy dancer.", with a hand crossed over his chest, Christian bowed ever so slightly. The brother and sister duo continued to talk, Christian gave Atticus the high sign with his eyes. At first the lion was confused, however after several head nods, eye darts, and eyebrow flare ups, the two of them came to be of the same mind, silently. So when Charmae broke free from her brother's grasp and came to Christian's side, it was no surprise to either of them what the former High Councilor was about to do. Placing his balled up jacket into Charmae's hands as she pressed up against him, he proceeded to lift her from the ground as a groom would hold his bride before carrying her over their threshold. "I'm terribly sorry, but we just don't have the time to do this any longer.", Atticus sprung in to action, leaping atop Christian's shock white crown before a single plush hand pointed out the direction and with a face brimming with determination—gave the order to charge!, "Apologies O' high and mighty son of the Three Noble houses.", a torrent of air escaped him, as a spiral of jet waves hit the ground at his feet, the three companions launched from the ground at impressive speed. Denizens around them rocked by the rippling shock wave left in their wake, as only a dust outline of them remained. Christian was close to top foot speed, weaving in and out of unsuspecting nobles as he cut a swath through the city. Atticus clung to strands of his hair as not to be blown away, his miniature stuffed body whipping in the wind helplessly. Each step he took was deliberate—calculated—as if he'd been through this city enough times to know it like the back of his hand. Nothing was left to chance and none of his efforts were to be wasted, the distance he put between themselves and Charmae's brother was not exactly impressive, however the complicated pathways he chose to essay would make tracking them an excruciating task. Before long, his footfalls became audible and the atmosphere around them died down, eventually at the pace of a brisk walk Atticus found his bearings and knocked a stern paw several times on Christian's head. He came to a halt before gently placing Charmae in a position so that her feet could touch the ground, however would continue to hold her should she choose to remain in his grasp, "I think this was for the best.", knowing she was still on a search for answers and that Charmen would only serve as a quagmire they would have wasted time and effort persisting through.
  14. He was more caught off guard by the fact that Charmae had a brother than the fact that he was now standing right in front of them. For as chatty as she was—which he didn't mind in the least—it didn't seem to be something she wouldn't want to bring up, especially seeing her elated reaction to his arrival. Now on the other hand, Christian's reception at the hands of Charmen was an entirely different thing, perhaps Charmae was too happy to have heard the disdain in his voice, but every man worth his salt was suspicious of apparent suitors to their relatives. "You are?" Christian held Atticus in his upturned palm and with his free gloved hand, pointed to the plush lion, I serve the Master. He continued to remain salient however, through the passive-aggressive verbal trouncing before Atticus leaped from his hand to the ground. It was Charmae's turn to scoop his majesty into her arms before presenting him to her estranged brother. He'd about had enough of the petty ignoble insults as Charmen arrived at some discussion of compensation for returning his sister to Elrux, as if she were merely some family heirloom to be placed back on the mantle above the fireplace. "It was, and still is Christian. She came here of her own accord, we are just passing through the city. I'm sure when she's finished finding the answers she's looking for, Charmae will return, but I don't think she wants to be stuffed away in some room in a castle. The master and I are not accompanying her for compensation, so please don't assume we'll leave her side because you flash us some coin. I don't appreciate the gesture as I'm sure you wouldn't either, should our positions have been reversed." Though he was entirely capable, Christian wouldn't resort to violence. He didn't need this brand of attention, yet also respected Charmae enough not to treat her like an object. Should she wish to return home, he wouldn't try to force her out of the city, a woman was capable of making her own decisions. Unfortunately the aristocracy didn't always see things in black and white, as he recalled his own parentage with a reluctant smile regarding their hardships in love and loss at the hand of fate or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. "Let the Lady Magnus decide what's best for her, herself."
  15. "but Ran, that nigga is already—you forced him to be a judge. qq" Every fight is a double KO from where I'm sitting. >:{
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