Joined Feb 22 2012
35 years old
Though often I go to great extents to recount the past, little more of it matters as aeons dribble into instants. You take such kind interest, allow me to abridge my journal in the following entry;
In the peak of RhyDin's growth, amidst a sea of souls was 'just another' bright boy. He had came from another Realm, another time, another history inter-meshing into the Nexus for Fate's humours. Needless to say, he didn't willingly place himself so far from a witless existance. All the same, there was a reason. Battle was his life, idle conversations in bar-rooms came between brawls. War was constant, and so he was kept busy.
Gypsy's were integral, he had faced Dark Lords within their own castle's walls and sood for the Light more times than he knew, even when calling his lot neutral-bound. They asked him, to be their champion in need. His response, became a sea of their enemy's blood. Millenia would pass, before any others dared to raise a hand against their Roma-ways. Among them he lived, becoming a part of their legends, only to fade into obscurity as the coin crossed faces. All his good deeds, ended slowly unto a night of Weird.
He had learned true-magic, bridging his path of spiritual-alchemy and perfection gave way to patina. Demonic possession and exposure into necromancy made him rebel against his grown-stoic life style. Curses reigned, and he tore off. Tears merged with anger, and never had he known such misery in all of his wounds. Laemkral found him, Chaz in his haunt and brooding more than ever before. Hope called out to them.
Always the zealot, in awe he was impressed and through Chaos he found both revelation and resolution. Purpose filled him, he moved on, finally? Aloof, inspired, those who knew him saw the changes. Noted his changes of interest, and used this to their advantage. Power only grew, and over time RhyDin fell into disinterest. Diaspora came to many, he followed the 'herd' and continued to terrorize Powers that be. Clans warred, Nations fell, Realms were made domain even to his flag. Over time, his incursions returned to Ghaashmog. Each time, he made his nation-state stronger. Always lusting, always thristing, and ever-changing he found himself growing Daemonic incarnate.
Raven? Why, she was the one who didn't run away it seems. Madness drentched him, a mystic who swore by the sword, and at times he was lost to the world. Migrations came and passed, but they never lost they way they smiled to one another. It was odd to him, Victor had 'made' her? He knew Victor, from an age past. When he was but mortal in age. The past... it haunts him beautifully at times, when not a terror of blood. Woe to those who harm his 'sacred kindred', for he returns time and again for only one purpose.
Not even Chaos, can demand of him the way bloodline does. Jaded, corrupt, and always so bright even when darkened to disarray Chaz defines himself simply. A romantic at heart, it is perhaps the only thing that has kept him from complete mutation, yes? I ask questions, because I can only read half the narration filling your mind. Things, I couldn't answer even if you asked. All I can tell you is this, be prepared to learn because knowledge is more valuable than information, and experience is our best guide.
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