Information

Oldum has a minion!

I took memories from the Dead Person

Oldum
Legacy Name: Oldum

The

Hydrus Tigrean
Owner:

Musician

Age: 10 years, 11 months, 3 weeks

Born: April 24th, 2013

Adopted: 10 years, 1 month, 5 days ago

Adopted: March 14th, 2014

Statistics

Level: 6
Strength: 11
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 17
HP: 17/17
Intelligence: 2
Books Read: 2
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

An interesting world this, a self-aware one, we'll find many good memories here. GORGEOUS OLDUM ART BY User not found: rottweiler

Many faced, grey, stars, white noise. Woman falls into unreality void and encounters Oldum. She's not supposed to be there, she get's absorbed into the voice and becomes the Eye. Emerges in city with great population density. Oldum is an archivist, harmless, but strange.IGNORE EVERYTHING BELOW THIS POINT -The supernatural creature had not always inhabited the body of a decaying tiger, and its spirit did not thrive on nightmares and fear like the strange things with fierce jaws always do in the myths.

Their name changed with every language, decaying and growing like any word does over the eons. Old One became Oldum, rolling off the tongue with the echo of a funeral chant.

But it is not a creature; not really. The universe writes its own records in cosmic dust, that strange dust that is brought by chance to every newborn planet. It spans the globe in an invisible swathe, surging through the neurons of those who are dead.

Men fancied their bodies as the only vessels worthy of knowledge. But Oldum found wisdom in the corpses of ants and beasts, a primal purity in their undoubting claws and teeth. They haunted and possessed the bodies of those that pleased them.

There had been the man in the woods, felled by a faulty heart. His city-smoked flesh was unaccustomed to the hard, pine-spiked air. He saw the world through a veil of hate that he called cynicism. The man had tasted metallic; one of the many flavors of souls, both animal and human.

They had been a raven, a snail, a speck of a creature. Many things. The former sometimes chirped and played with the immaturity of man. The others moved to the beats of the earth and the calls of the hive. These were listeners, and they could listen well, undistracted as they were by their own mental agility.

Snatches of the incense-like smoke that streamed from their eyes shot across the world in a thousand strands with every passing, and individual pieces of tainted wisdom settled across one another over time. Certain truths became bolded with repetition.

Memories, however, remained unique. They were like different shades on the limited structures of principles. They were not like ideas, fickle and changing; memories were ornamental stories filled with folly, beauty, and horror. In the recesses of its hosts mind, Oldum tapped into them one by one, listening, browsing an endless library in which new books appeared at every moment.

Their most recent body was that of a tiger. It had died rotting from infection, but muscles still rippled smoothly under the tattered skin.

The spirits surged through the body, their siren wails ringing as their voices found a home in the corpses skull. It began to rain, and water seeped into the gash in its stomach, falling into its insides. A feeling of dripping pain brought Oldum close to Earth and reminded them once again of the fragile impermanence of organic beings.

As the last wisps of incense like smoke streamed into the body, the beast sighed. The tiger was a good vessel.

Power remained in its limbs. Its lips snarled even in death. The colony of ants that had nested among its exposed ribs streamed out, frightened by the invading spirits. Oldum could hear the tinkle of their moving bodies like tiny chimes.

With a satisfied growl they padded into the jungle, leading themselves to isolation and silent introspection. They needed bodies to learn pain, to remind themselves that they were only as knowledgeable as the mortal minds which they inhabited.

For Oldum knew that they were old, not wise.

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