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Indeed! Jump on IRC if possible. I don't use this account anymore :) New forum acc is called CryptCypher. Spawned in a new family since the old got deleted.

...Suddenly, critical!

How far back do your RP records go? I'd sell my soul to get all those RP's I sent as Magnus back when Xavax was formed. :|

*poke*

For this, I would come back to BM.

And with that, I raise a flaming middle finger and depart. Cheers.

Since you so love to criticize my every word, here's one I wrote for an old friend who tried to kill me. Fitting, I think.

"Sacrosanct"

"What are we but living shadows, mere reflections fire-paved,
Of light once found and love now lost, carnal debts we left unpaid

Who are we but simple men, silhouettes who flee the night,
With spirit held in shaking hands, our faith yet shining bright

Where are we my dearest friend, lost in a haze of your creation,
Where were you when needed most, gave in to the mere temptation
of fleeing in that dreaded night, the dagger unsheathed to answer my plight

What a whimsical thought, that a man like you could ever have carried,
But a shadow of doubt, your betrayal left you dead and buried

What a wonder it is, that it lasted so long in light of your lying.
Not a word you spoke yet worth a damn, not a single oath ever meant to be binding.

Try hard as you might - you cannot quench this flame
The sacrosanct submission, division of heedless blame

One would think you'd notice, how the truth does flee your sight,
The facts you bend thus breaking down - if simply out of spite.

Rid me of your "charm", you know - it makes me wonder.
So wrapped in self-inflicted harm, your every word a blunder.

Get the !@#$ out of my face, you sickening disgrace,
Your self-constructed sub-race of filth does stain this place.

You know what - its depressing, I couldn't possibly stress more,
The effects of your deception more tiring than the moans of a menopausal whore.

This game is now over, your hand played and lost:
I bid you farewell, old friend, for the last time I've been crossed."

Really bad poetry? Ouch. It may be a raw unedited sketch but damn. That one hurt.

You want some bad, crazy poetry? Here's a favorite I wrote after 4 days without sleep.

Unbound
by Maximilian-Aurea, Aug 15, 2013, 11:16:13 PM

I stand in the street and look up at the moon,
Which would be pretty fine if it weren't 'round noon:
As I stare at the clouds and imagine the faces,
And name all the voices I hear echoing in my head

I suppose I must mention I'm just slightly off,
Like a blue tangerine or week-old Stroganoff.
As I follow the neighborhood cats all around,
And whisper in silence when no one's around.

I would tell you I'm drunk - but I'm just barely sane,
Mental waves off the Richter scale - to be quite plain.
Its a blast to consider the depth of a mind,
As replete with obsession and madness as mine!

As I prowl through the night with a blade in my hand,
Wondering just how I got this stark !@#$ing mad.
At the world; at myself; at the voice in my head:
At the face in the mirror I want !@#$ing dead,

I digress.

I confess I obsess over seeming alright,
As I groom, in my room, all these thoughts in my head:
As I lay - wrapped and bound - in a blanket in bed,
In my mind, in a thought, in a dream where I'm dead.

All these fragmented concepts among which I swim,
Sanguine horrors, manic-depressive and grim!
I suppose I'll surmise in my poem and prose,
That you've begun but to gradually dip your toes

In the depths of what I would consider the norm,
Commonplace in my world, convoluted and warm!
I inform, its a storm - of a form - in my head,
As I dance through the rain, through the drops I have bled.

As I crawl through the night, on my hands and my knees,
And the whirling wind sings silent songs to the trees;
I lay on the grass, fingering broken leaves,
'Cause I really just have nothing better to do

Late at night when insomnia knocks on the door,
To my heart, to my soul, when I'm out of control;
Where I flee from the nightmares I dread to behold,
When I wish I could cut out the memories cold

I awake in a sweat, shivering and upset,
Guess I dozed, I suppose, for a moment and yet;
Every morning I wake from the maelstrom within,
Just to find I'll descend the abyss yet again

So you see, mon Cherie, why they label me mad,
Its because of these mem'ries I'd rather not keep;
Or these thoughts, never bound by the chains of normality,
Or all of the ticks and strange habits I desperately flee...

I suppose I so often seem cold and composed,
I would hope not to hint at the thoughts I control;
Or the pain that I battle from morning 'til night,
And the soul-burning bloodlust I ache to release

I fight every moment to maintain composure,
I smile while I grimace from social exposure;
I'm really just trying to keep to myself,
Without losing my mind in the process
Pray tell,

Why is it you find yourself sitting right here,
As you march through my brain like you're parting a veil?
Hack away my neurons, the vines Amazonian,
Succulent mental veal saturated in the blood!

Of my friends and my enemies,
Memories plaguing me;
People I love that I wish would stop haunting me,
Words I suppose would be better unsaid

And the hellish nightmares that I flee in my head,

I would hope through these verses you've gained but a glimpse,
Of an unstructured madness I hide deep within;
From myself, from the world, from the ones I hold dear,
From my hopes, and my dreams, and the things that I fear

I assume it'd be best if I wrap all this up,
Like a corpse in a coffin; decayed into mush;
As they say about ashes; to ashes and dust,
And of necrotized limbs one must sever in trust

That such sickness might yet be contained in some form,
In a cradle of clouds, where I bottle the storms;
All the lights are still on, yet in spirit I'm dead,
But there's really - just quite - no one home in my head

No worries :) Poetry, prose, and music are my passions. I write, paint, draw, sculpt, and generally spend all my free time daydreaming and escaping from reality.

But mostly writing. As y'all can tell from my walls of text... I lose myself when I write. Its a hell of a good escape and therapy.

Heh. Was discussing poetry with a publisher and realized my half-finished poem "Severance" can draw some parallels with the whole weird Magnus-Selenia connection. I saw a line about a Phoenix and it clicked immediately. So I posted it as a roleplay. Enjoy.

Obsessive failed romance time, go!

Somewhere on the road to Itor Boss, a song can be heard - sung by persons unknown - their identity left to the imagination.

"Whence the woven net drags
And the harrowed wind goes
Sighs the dragonfly - beaten
Does the pufferfish blow

Doth the moon not reflect
In those eyes of golden green
As they fled from the sun
To embrace the unseen

So they gazed upon a world
Burning wreckage marred the land
Thousand spires lit the night
Though she never took his hand

As he dwelled upon a truth
Left in tatters - overwhelmed
Midnight mane - scattered youth
As another took the helm

Of the vessel of his soul
And the strings that bound his heart
Condescending overtones
That awoke him with a start

So he looked upon a face
Smiled sadly - recollecting
Countless nights wrapped in joy
Broken silence ever rending

Every tear from fallowed eyes
Every cry from suffered voice
Every touch so swiftly ending
Every action left a choice

As he stood upon the precipice
Of the kingdom they had built
Holding high above his head
Crown of thorns of deepest guilt

So he hammered at the cross
Bore the burden he had made
Shoulder-ing a hollow world
That bore the debt he swore to pay

Strong as Atlas - there he stood
Ever burning - by the flame
He did set upon himself
As he soaked up all the blame

Lit a match - to cleanse it all
Choked up memories - favored tinder
As he slipped before the fall
Phoenix spiraled to a cinder

Cast away from thought enflamed
By the fuel he did drink
Thus it rained upon his soul
As he bore its noxious stink

Saturated by desire
For what nevermore would be
With spade of sorrow dig he dig
A lonesome grave out by the sea

Until the midnight hour had passed
As brightest stars yet shone on high
He thought he saw a figure cleave the waves
And bellowed choked-up cry

There he stood upon a field of grain
Which ever crumbled with tide's advance
Whilst the somber moon yet glowed on high
As he recalled a final chance

He squandered in a bout of fear
Eliciting a hidden tear
A thousand-man march of blurring salt
That bore the sorrow of his halt

For once upon a time - enchained
In foolishness he'd bent the cage
The shelter of a shattered truth
Blessed vessel of his forlorn youth

As foolish dove he flew from perch
With griffon rage he screamed "Enough!"
In petulance he dared recede
Fell wings of crimson did he bleed

Until the wind did blow no more
He crashed aground so bruised and sore
Evoking cry - so helplessly
Yet master - far - would never see

Those foolish wings had carried far
Away from every blazing star
Unto a darkness yet unknown
Profoundly far from loving home

If only those brown eyes would see
The sum of what it meant to me
To witness first and final flight
To spread those wings and pierce the night

Upon a journey - of good intention
Whose goal his fear forbade the mention
Planting seeds of doubt in coupled mind
That broke the one he left behind

If only he had know to state
To set a first and final date
To mark the moment he'd return
From somber journey ever late

For on his journey he did find
The worth of all he'd left behind
In callous moment of his youth
As he once sought to flee the truth

For but a moment - longer still
Spear-ing heart - upon upheld pike
Until his deepest pain had drank its fill
To quench regret and guilt alike

For he believed he'd never fly
Within that cage he'd surely die
All he did seek was but a truth
Rid-dled questions of his youth

That bore the seed of his descent
From deepest place his sorrow rent
In questioning his sense of self
In Eden he perceived a Hell

Yet as the flames of madness died
Extinguished blaze - from tears he'd cried
A flowing river - in which he sank
Filled lungs with sand - the lies he drank

As fear deceived a boy once lost
Who dared defend at any cost
An image he once longed to see
Of stark horizon - once set free

Yet as he soared beyond the trees
So swiftly fell upon his knees
At once he wished for gilded cage
As sorrow did supplant his rage

He re-alized what he had lost
The price he paid - at highest cost
The severance of "You and I"
Upon the day his spirit died"

So, for the record, Magnus might leave Xavax after the war. I need somewhere to start the Phoenexian religion and Xavax - ironically - isn't going to happen.

Unless of course we conquer a certain city... Oh lawd. Realm of the Phoenexian Order? Suddenly, the Xavax Inquisition realm is born from the ashes of Minova/Alara! That would be unlikely but incredibly ironic.

Even more so if it is allied to Xavax but presents certain ideological differences that guarantee plenty of fun and conflict down the road...

As it stands, Xavax has turned from the benevolent honorable empire Magnus dreamed of, into a real powerhouse of belligerent well spoken imperialists.

Effectively what Selenia and I - among numerous others - were planning/ discussing. To my ultimate chagrin. If only y'all knew the plans for Magnus to abdicate to Selenia and found the Phoenix faith. Somehow, the rebellion managed to create a massive shortcut and - of course - Selenia became ruler anyway.

Selenia, did you screw me? Lol. Sometimes I wonder.

It'll never happen now, but Magnus was courting Selenia and the plan was to pass Xerarchs crown to her and create a second kingdom on the ashes of Perleone - with Ibladesh under Veridianas command - something Magnus supported and was setting up behind the scenes.

Never happened of course.

Man I reeeeally screwed things up didn't I?

Throw in some Phoenexian purists and we can really start burning hereti- I mean, spreading love and piety. *ahem*

Heh I remember. I wanted it at first too but it felt like a bit too much.

Hail, Honored Xavax: Xavax of Xavax, duke of Xavax, margrave of Xavax, marshal of Xavax, priest of Xavax!

<everyone else> "...Wut?"

Unable to access game. No server response. I'm player ID 9. New client already downloaded, for the record.

I smelled it coming. I had a feeling that was a major part of Selenia's character. I, too, am triggered by the thought - as a male sexual abuse survivor.

Been hoping for this for years now!

Don't see why not!