The third SPELLCRAFT Trial has begun here. Champions get ready for a physical challenge!

First and foremost, thank you all for your patience as we've been down an administrator while Cor has taken a break to address some real life problems. <3 All hail Lacey for holding down the fort as the lone admin for the past 1-2 months! The Activity Check is officially over! If you've lost a character, be sure to visit the ACTIVITY CHECK thread to find out how to get them back.

Happy New Year, Tatem! We're kicking off 2018 with a site wide ACTIVITY CHECK! Be sure to save your characters by February 2, 2018!

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Personal Info
Location: No Information
Born: 3 November 1992
Website: No Information
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Other Information
Alias: Shark
Age: 25
Timezone: AST
Mature: Yes
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Character's Age: 981
Gender: Male
Blood Status: Muggle
Relationship Status: Widowed
Partner: None
Gif (210x105):
Nickname: Xavier, Zacharias, Dimitri, Astor, Oscar, Joseph, Bjorn
Former School: None
Joined: 4-November 17
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Jan 13 2018, 05:00 AM
Local Time: Mar 19 2018, 06:24 AM
4 posts (0 per day)
( 0.14% of total forum posts )
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My Content
Nov 11 2017, 04:54 PM
Osgar rose from his slumber, he had once again spent the night at the Misfit’s Haven. He had fallen asleep reading a book again. He grabbed the book he was reading and placed it on a table near him. He sat up and looked around the dimly lit bar. He hasn’t given it a proper upgrade in appearance since the 50s.

He had fallen asleep in a booth that was tucked into the back, raising from where he was he walked to the door and unlocked it. It was time to open up anyway. Osgar walked back to where he had left his book and picked it up. Walking towards behind the bar, he placed the book under the cash register.

It was going to be a slow day, least that’s what he felt like it’d be. The vampires usually show up when it gets darker out. While people usually come here for peace and quiet, compared to the livelier places. Though people who needed medical attention but couldn’t go to St Mungo’s did come to see Osgar. He helped who ever needed it, and did his best. He never judged or inquired into why they were so wounded, he would just patch them up and send them on their way.

This has earned him a bit of a reputation as a good Samaritan within the underground community. Sometimes his ‘children’ would even visit his fine establishment. Though visits have been few and far between now a day.

Osgar stood behind the counter and ran his head through his hair. He wore a white undershirt with a black overcoat on. He looked over his bar and had a small smile across his lips. He was quite happy with his accomplishments in life, though he did have his fair share of regrets. And he’s seen things he would never wish upon his children.

He leaned against the counter and sighed a heavy sigh, he missed his wandering days. But he needed to keep an eye out for those of his house, keep them out of trouble as it were.
Nov 7 2017, 08:22 AM
Seasons change, people stop and gaze in wonder at the changing of seasons. One might think in all these years, Osgar would’ve stopped paying attention to the ever-changing seasons, or the people reacting to them. Yet from his home, an apartment complex he precured many, many years ago he looked down and watched in amazement at the people. Running and playing, stopping to look at the beautiful trees that grew and the plants that arose within their city designated spot.

Yet still Osgar was fascinated by them. Back when he was considered to being part of the living, they never really had the luxury to stop and smell the flowers, as it were. He had to tend to the farm, look after his family, fight in another man’s war and die. His life, though long and full of wonder, was also full of despair and sorrow.

But Osgar tries and stay focused on the positive in his life. There is so much, and he has it all written down. The tough times too, but that is the point of a memoir, is it not? To write down the good and the bad, and to revisit it whenever you so choose? Turning away from the window, he walked towards the bookcase that ran the span of twenty feet long and ten feet high. It ran the length and height of the room, and it was filled with all his memories. He felt it was necessary, to keep it all there. Who knows when his clan might need to revisit the past and learn from it.

His experiences helped shape who he is today, though he does have some challenging time catching up with the times. He has yet to purchase a television that everyone seems to be yammering on about. He also still has a rotary phone, just off to the side atop a stack of medical books, which are more recent then anything else in his three-bedroom apartment. Osgar doesn’t live in the dark ages though, he does have electricity and running water. And heat, for those frigid winter nights.

But he has no need for television or the internet. He has the news paper and his bar to keep him up to date on life. And he has a few trinkets in one of the rooms to keep an eye on some people. There was also a tv in his bar, but that was mostly for his customers benefit more then his own. If he could, he’d remove the damn thing and just enjoy the quiet. Like they used to. But he had to changes with the times.

Running his hand over a series of books along his bookshelf, he wondered which one he’d like to revisit this day. So many years, and so many sights he had seen. His hand stopped and he turned his eyes towards the memoir in question. ‘1589’ was carved into the spine of the book. Faded and rough, he pulled the book from the shelf and walked over to his chair by the window. The chair is seated next to a chess table and another chair, though that chair is less worn then his.

Mighty oak legs at the base, and rough worn leather wrapped around the chair. His arm chair wasn’t quite suitable to be at a chess table, but this is his house and he felt it was. Osgar cracked opened the book and began reading his memories. This was the year he had met Dimitri Petrov, who Osgar would later use as an alias while in Russia. Just one of his many names throughout history. He was deep within reading the first few pages when there was a wrapping onto his apartment door.

Only his clan lived in the building, so he wondered which one came by. Or if it was a neighbour coming over to complain about the noise coming from his tenants again. Sometimes he had to scold his ‘children’ about the noise, but he always forgave them. They all were just in their infancy or childhood of vampire years. They weren’t tired of it all yet. “Come in.” he called to the door, when he is home he leaves it unlocked. He found no need to lock it, not with his experiences behind him. And really, what is this old four story apartment complex got worth stealing?

Helena Caelum
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