#odeofodr

[wildskissed]

Hocus Pocus Starters - @ode-of-odr mused: “You know, I’ve always wanted a child.“

The idea of children was something that Eve had been going and forth on for many, many years. Some days, the thought of the pitter patter of tiny feet brought her JOY, but other times she worried that she wouldn't be good for a kid. Certainly she was the motherly sort, and she'd love them more than anything in the world, but she was so unstable lately and currently, they had this little...tadpole problem.

"All the more reason to get these unwelcome little visitors of ours out of our heads." Eve smiles a little though, looking him over. "Hard to SERIOUSLY think about bringing children into the world when we could turn at any moment..."

At the same time, it was hard not to ponder such things when they ran into kids on their travels. Just being amongst the Tiefling orphans for long enough had had Eve wanting to keep them at camp if for no reason other than to keep them safe and sound. So...perhaps it wasn't hard to think about kids, it just didn't seem like a viable option to attain at the moment.

"How many would you want?"

[avernusfuries-a]

@ode-of-odr:

"I understand that on some level. Because you don't even mean it like loving a toxic lover who belittles you. But your dreams hurt because you can't have them. And it's like thorns growing in your lungs when you think about them. You love them though; those dreams. Hold them close even if they are killing you too."

"Hopes and dreams are about the only thing that kept me going." The chance that she would get to live once she'd made a break for it, infernal engine be damned. That she would have friends she could trust not to stab her in the back the second things went sour. "Feels a little weird to want to err on the side of caution, and I'm trying not to. One foot in front of the other or whatever. Think about tomorrow, not next tenday."

[dreadgloom]

🖼 my favorite types of characters

MY EXPERIENCE IN THE ROLEPLAYING COMMUNITY . . . no accepting . . . @ode-of-odr

I honestly have two that are my favorite. The first is the kind of character that has been through some shit and has decided to remain kind (or even become kinder). The other is one which was doomed/'evil' from the start but managed to escape. While they aren't the monster they were before that doesn't mean they are fully 'good'/free now.

[bhaalswn-arch]

starter call / @ode-of-odr

You've seen red, but this? This is a beautiful deep red that makes you imagine such red running down necks. "Look at you." You spoke softly. "Beautiful." Reaching out, you want to touch the beard but you control yourself and brought your hand back to your side. "Sorry. I got distracted by your hair colour."

[seluniite-archived]

§

send me "§" if you'd ever consider shipping our muses.

this is the same energy as ras asking eira if she likes him and her responding with “darling, we’re married.” 🥹 silly goose.

[desertbled]

[ 𝕎 ] —- - The Kasrkin had fallen to his knees; not out of exhaustion, but out of grief. He had seen his planet consumed by Chaos, taking with it the many souls he’d held dear. There was comfort in knowing that they resided with the Emperor now—though, it had done little to erase the massive burden of shame weighing heavy on his shoulders. The guilt of survival, of failure. He should have died with honor, alongside his brethren, yet he had not.

That same failure had been reflected back at him once more, as he stood alone, once again the last Cadian on a planet laid to waste.

It was a brief faltering, however, as the Astartes had addressed him. Quickly re-gathering his bearings, Wolfgang cast off his pitiful feelings in favor of holding faith. There was no time for wallowing in misery, when the Emperor’s own angels surrounded him on all sides.

Hearing the sounds of gunfire, Wolf stood once more, drawing his hellgun. Underneath his own mask, an expression of confusion crossed his face. Despite serving alongside the Astartes a few times before, he still knew so little about them, aside from old legends & folk tales.

〝I fear I don’t understand, my Lord. Your gene-sire. . .? 〞

Guilt of Surviving

|| @desertbled

The only sounds that could heard now were the sounds of bolter fire and the blast coming from the xenos machines. A sickly green hue from their alien weapons. Blood and metal scents filled the air with the smell of spent rounds. This had not gone to plan. The understanding was the threat was alive! The tactics of the 2nd legion were best suited for living targets and the denizens of the warp. Not...living? Machines!

But like the primarch whose gene-seed they were blessed with they did not shy away and proved to be every bit as hard to kill as the necrons they fought.

"Captian Grotti, what do we do? We were not told of this xenos threat. We should retreat," the sternguard looked over at the only remaining guard left alive, "We need to send word this planet is lost. And what of the human? Emperor's Mercy?" he spoke lower

Grotti looked at the other astartes and without word punched him, sending him reeling backwards. The hit astartes held his tongue. They barely found a place to hide and rest before needing to move again. Rest being for the only human with them.

"We have already failed our gene-sire, I will not further this shame."

All these marines had darkish skin, a bruise-like hue with black eyes and irises that seemed to glow. One though sported large thick horns. Like a heavy crown. Their Death Speaker, they said.

Grotti turned to speak to the guardman when the sound of fighting could be heard. More bolter fire and a scent filled the air, drifting down the halls. The scent of freshly disturbed earth, and a chill like death had come to collect his due.

"We are saved." Grotti said to the baseline before him. Those his helmet hid it, one could almost feel the smile in his words.

"Our gene-sire has come."

[wildskissed]

@ode-of-odr liked this for a starter!

Sometimes, Eve found herself lost in quiet moments, just in nature as the oak father intended. At the moment, she was thoroughly enjoying using a little plant magic to watch some FLOWERS grow, and she smiled a little bit as she the magic flow and ebb as needed to spring forth such delights. More than anything, she found that such things reminded her of the good old days...and it was nice when Raserei seemed to be happy about it as well.

They both enjoyed nature as it was, and sometimes, Eve was quite glad to have someone else take pleasures in it as she did. There were moments when one could simply enjoy the breeze, or could stand in utter SILENCE amongst the trees, and simply enjoy the company of the birds.

"You know...sometimes I wish things were as EASY as this," Eve said aloud, smiling over at Raserei as she continued to play with the flowers. "I like it when it's calm like this--it's nice to have a break from breaking goblin bones and the like."

[altuspavus]

Dorian couldn't help himself, he grumbled quietly as a scowl took up residence on his face. Oh, if only his mother could see him now, could tell him off for scowling as he would develop wrinkles prematurely. Such things felt leagues away to the mage, now. If he lingered too long on such thoughts, an ache took up residence in his very core. How distracting, how irritating, how utterly time- and place-inappropriate.

Still, though, it did bother him, the implication that he manipulated spirits, forced or goaded them into his service. That he was no better than the worst of his fellow countrymen. It was untrue, of course, but he could hardly make the argument at that moment. There were too many nuances to explain, how he invited the spirits forth and never simply forced one to take control of a corpse or skeleton for his own bidding.

He tried his best to force his face back into something more neutral. Or, at least, into something that appeared solely to be disgust at whatever viscera was so unpleasantly decorating his attire at the present moment.

"That's a word for it," Dorian huffed, trying and failing to wipe the sticky substances off of his arm.

Valor lingered at the surface. Raserei's blood still raging and perhaps the spirit felt it was easier for it's host to control that rage, that hunger for blood and flesh when it was was in control. Because while Valor knew no fear, it understood this gnawing hunger and rage if not contained would destroy him and Raserei both. What would be left in the ashes of that burnout would be terrifying to behold. An abomination of great power and destruction.

"You force spirits out of the fade and into corpses, yes, I am aware. I feel your pull when nearby. Nipping and snatching smaller spirits nearby one's without enough power to anchor down and refuse your demand." again there was no real inflection in the spirit's tone to indicate how it truly felt, if it did at all.

Valor looked Dorian over and those around them. Yes, this was going to be hard to explain. Avvar did not much care about spirits consentually merging with a mortal. But the nuance was lost on those not of the Avvar. Mostly.

There was a pull, something yanking at the spirit pulling it away. It was Raserei wanting control back because of worry of those around him. Those who will need explanation.

Valor faded, and also the transformation of the dragon's blood. Now standing before everyone was Raserei as they normally saw him.

"Well. Shit." was all the Vashoth could really say.

[avernusfuries-a]

@ode-of-odr:

"I wouldn't follow me. The place I am destined for is not a place for those like you. Or deserving of you." He wouldn't dare tell her he thought Avernus was a better fate than the Shadowsea, being driven mad to be a plaything for a mad being's bid for power. Or true oblivion. Because he knew Avernus and the Blood War was no picnic, and oblivion at least might feel like a better deal. "Let us just focus on getting to Baldur's Gate first and surviving these cursed lands."

Once you'd seen one hell, you had seen them all. Well, the foundations of them at least. Some had wars, others were cesspools of other horrendous things she dared not think about.

For the first time in ten years, she was free to do as she pleased. Go where she pleased. Follow whoever she wanted to without the looming threat of betrayal like the cold kiss of a dagger against the softness of a bared throat.

No one could buy true loyalty quite like hers, and she knew that he knew that.

"Pretty sure Avernus was no place for those like me either," she pointed out with a toothy grin. A joke, though there was truth that bled into those words.

The Shadow-cursed lands felt cold, and Karlach found that she had to get used to the fact that she would need a blanket when they returned to camp. Soft, non-scratchy blankets. What bliss.

"You got any plans for when we do hit the city? After ridding ourselves of our little wiggly friends, I mean?"

[dreadgloom]

continued from here . . . @ode-of-odr

A soft smile resting on her lips, the ranger reached out to place her hand on his. Her thumb stroking the back of his hand soothingly when he seemed to spiral into worry. ❝ Though I am not often prone to fully sleeping as an elf, it was a wonderful dream. Your hands on my hips as I rode you, both praise and obscenities falling from your lips. It was a near tragedy when I was rudely awakened for breakfast this morning, ❞ Dionisia explained. It was not often she had such loose lips about these things. Perhaps she had smoked to much pipeweed, or nursed her flask a little too much earlier. Or . . . perhaps she was starting to become that comfortable in the friendship that has built between them.

[seluniite-archived]

Headcanon: Eira braids flowers in Ras' goatee while he sleeps on their little outings.

send a headcanon you have about our muses’ relationship and I’ll tell you if I approve of it or not.

IT'S SO SO TRUE. his goatee, his hair, and she's hot his head on her lap. he looks resplendent (as if he didn't already).

[avernusfuries-a]

Raserai's experience of the Shadowcursed Lands were considerably different from her own. With the cooling of her engine, it felt as though she had spent every waking minute trying to stop her own teeth from chattering. She heard no background noise, outside of the eerie hum of the curse around them and the occasional sobs of the cursed when they ran into what was left of them.

"Can't imagine you're sleeping too easily here either, soldier." She could empathise. She knew a thing or two about the noise of things. War, specifically. Not the horrors and ghouls and vermin that lingered in shadows with spindly fingers that would make them ill as well. Ill? No, that wasn't the best way to describe it.

A bard might have more fitting words. She wasn't one. Never could figure out how her fingers might sit on a lute.

"Best way to get rid of silence, I've found? A bedfellow. Or, you know, in failing that? Dirty songs. Pure filth that would make long-gone parents rise up to give you a clip 'round the ear."

He heard her approaching, yet her words seemed to jolt him. Breaking him from the deep concentration he had, the spiraling thoughts and doubt that was eating at him.

"It reminds me of the Shadow Sea," he inhaled slowly, "Less water, but the endless black, and feeling you are being watched is the same. That endless hunger just beyond eyesight."

Raserei looked over at Karlach, "Once, in Rashamen, where the boundary between here and the Shadowfell is weak, I slipped in. There was a creature there, that helped me understand fear. I want to make sure none linger here."

Because if even one did, they were likely doomed.

No one can be trusted… they want your secrets, your power…

You cannot succeed. Your cause is hopeless.

The tiefling rolled his head, and loud pops and cracks could be heard from his upper spine. Years of combat made his joints vocal over the years. The tadpole deciding to not keep the Chained God and Dagon quiet didn't help either.

"That and this place is too damn loud."

[wildskissed]

Baldur's Gate 3 Starters - @ode-of-odr mused: ❝ they underestimated me. so they paid the price. ❞

Eve found herself bobbing her head in a nod as he spoke, understanding on some level what it felt like to be underestimated. There was a voice inside of her that told her that she had to make herself be seen when things like that transpired, and it seemed that perhaps Ras wasn't so differently. He too, wanted to be taken seriously, and so Eve was behind him one hundred percent.

❝Sounds like they got what was coming to them,❞ She took a step closer to him, a soft smiling stretching out onto her face as she looked up at him. ❝Did it make you feel a little better too?❞

[bhaalswn-arch]

You stare at the cloth that is pulled out from the other's pocket. It's pointless considering how much you've been drenched in. Like a bloodbath. A hungry beast now sated. But it's the thought that counts. You feel the softness of the cloth being dragged over your blood-sullied hands. You open your mouth, only to close it. The other did not understand, or did he? Do not think this means I condone this. He understands, or so you think by his words, by the choice of them. He may understand to some extent, But he may not understand that you're a puppet for Bhaal; a thing; cruel incarnate and a favourite to Bhaal.

You wet your bottom lip as you listen to him talk. Your mind clearer, no red fog present in your mind. Your thoughts are your own for now. The topic of Bhaal made you stare slightly up at Raserei. Oh?

Then you furrow your eyebrows and you can't help but scoff at that. "Like father, like son, no? Also, let's not be surprised that the God of Murder favours the deepest, brightest reds known to man. Hm."

Favourite colour? "I suppose ... I suppose I never really thought about it? If I had a favourite, I wouldn't really remember it. But if I perhaps guess, it would be yellow. Like the sun. A golden yellow. I don't think my father would like that, considering what he's all about. Y'know, the dead of night, that sort of thing."

// @bhaalswn continued from here

It was too easy to be upset, to turn his nose up and look at the man with disgust and judgment. To see him as a wild beast to be put out of its misery. It's what others had tried to do with him, after all.

Though not the same Raserei understood more than most. The pull of something in your blood, forced into your nature because it's branded on your soul. That divine pull, in this case. And how hard it is to fight it. To always be swimming against the flow.

Dagon was no god, but Bhaal was far from what he once was, and if hairs were to be split, the demon lords who were not of tanar'ri something so much older, and what lay in the Abyss, trapped and waiting...

Raserei shook his head, Bhaal and his grandfather were likely even in power at this point, not that it mattered. Both were planer in their power, and semi-divine and played with their blood and offspring like toys to be discarded.

The demon spawn walked over to Alkas, slowly pulling a cloth from a pocket, he had mostly undressed for the evening, out of his furs and into his simple tunic.

"Do not think this means I condone this," he said as he started using the cloth to clean Alkas gently, "But I will not be the kettle calling the pot, aye? I know. I know." the last part sounded more of Raserei assuring Alkas he didn't need to explain, to regurgitate the pain.

He didn't dare look over at the victim. His own guilt for when the black tides took him would flood over and his need to kill the man before him as if to cleanse his own soul would be far too great. No one was there when he struggled. No one cared to understand the nuance, the hold, the pain. So he would be for Alkas what he did not have.

"You know, your father approached me once, quite taken by my hair too, red brighter than blood and more vibrant than fire. It was an angry red, a red of warning," Raserei smirked, "I do not like the color red." he said gently. Like a mother calming a child.

"I prefer blues, yeah? What about you. What is a color you love your father would hate?"

[avernusfuries-a]

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒

If there was anyone who would be able to lift her and throw her around, it would be Raserei. For the most part, when it came to tossing damsels and their male counterparts over a should, Karlach found that she would have done the bulk of the heavy lifting. Part of the parcel, really, of being as tall and wide as she was. Karlach pretended like she was thinking about it. Really, really thinking about it. "Smash."

SMASH OR PASS. / @ode-of-odr / NOT ACCEPTING.

[dreadgloom]

😲 //I'm cry laughing at this

send me a 😲 for your muse to walk in on mine masturbating or a 😰 for mine to walk in on yours . . . accepting . . . @ode-of-odr

Laid out among furs and blankets with silver hair unbound for once, the drow cashed their own pleasure with a hand between their legs. A soft, sharp inhale alerts the ranger to a barely sensed presence. Turning their head, dark red-purple gaze falls on the intruding tiefling. ❝ Raserei, ❞ they sighed. Their tone holding an almost relieved and longing sound. Had Dionisia been sober, their reaction would have likely been different. But the way his cheeks began to tint a dark purple with flush caused her core to clench. Eyes fell shut behind white lashes as release washed over her. It was thrilling to know that she had an effect on him even if it was seemingly one he did not wanted to act upon.

As waves of pleasure subsided, she was pleasantly surprised to see the other still at then entrance of her tent. They had been almost sure he would dart at the first opportunity . . . Perhaps he still would? Sitting up, a small smile rested on her lips. ❝ Did you seek to join me, Raserei? Or . . . are Shadowheart and Lae’zel trying to kill each other again, ❞ they questioned.