Baeum

All life fits a niche. Good. Bad. Light. Dark. Some things are merely neutral. Though beastly, Baeum is as useful as he is harmful, and as beautiful as he is hideous.

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by ThatsNotPoetry

Last seen at: Gambit's Bar

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Description

Baeum is a monster, through and through. He gallops, not unlike a great black rhino. He roars as convincingly as he speaks, his voice terrible and deep. His charcoal skin is thick and dry. His feathery mane is inky and reflective. His many talons are hooked and black. And while he may appear slow and lazy, he can scale the tallest forest and cross the deepest valley in moments. But in all of this, it is the round golden jewels of his small eyes which haunt the most fiercely.


Image

Thank you, BurgundyMStone
Image

Here's a NSFW pic, another by Burgundy.

Personality

Baeum's vast knowledge is ancient and adaptive, and just as unpredictable as his actions. He is not known to feel pity or remorse, but nor is he known to experience hatred or repulsion. He can be both incredibly patient and frustratingly fickle. His neutrality is absolute--or, it was.

History

All the world is comprised of delicate balances.
Death precedes life; destruction precedes creation.
Some creatures hold true to this balance, acting only on whimsy.
But man so loves to manipulate what is not rightfully his, and is terrified of what he cannot rightly control.
Baeum, like many of his kin, does not take kindly to bars and chains.

Baeum's Story

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-14 22:40:24, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum spread thick black fingers against the door, lingering that way for just a moment to watch the way his skin gathered and his fingernails stayed so still. He'd never get used to this body. His nostrils gave a little flare, beady yellow eyes flicking curiously from that same hand, to the body below. Hm. According to the window scene, these people were fully clothed. When the black oaf pushed inside, his chin dimpled as it pushed forward with a deep breath. Oh it smelled so lively in here. There was so much activity! His grin spread wide and toothy, and he-.. oh. There was no mane to ruffle. Instead, his hair stayed wild and dark, a mess of loose tendrils and fat braids. My but he was large. A hulking fiend of a strongman. And he couldn't get enough of these smells.

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-14 22:53:11, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum rolled his head 'round on his shoulders, taking slow and heavy steps across the long floor. He smelled food somewhere, though not much of it. And fermentation, oh, so much of it. And other things. Some of this world and some less so. No wonder he'd been drawn to this place. His ears were small and angled just so. His face was a hard slope, and it left his brow high, h nose flat, and his jaw fiercely extended. But for all this, his grin was unending and his movements stayed in a constant state of lag. His thick finger pads ran over a few chairs in passing. They passed Aequitas's arm, busy as it was. Further, he came leaning low to smell deeply of Karissa's agitated hair. There was so much here! His lines were hard, and coiled as he stepped. The new body left him itching to experience the senses through it.

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-14 22:56:23, as a chat transcript.
And when he dragged past the young thing of wild hair and tiny hooves, his mouth dropped wide to breathe him in and taste the spice in the air 'round his hair. Fantastic. "You always taste this way?" There was nothing human in that guttural roll. This was not his language. Why, he was merely mimicking it.

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-14 23:01:04, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum whipped his head to the left, his little eyes going wide and his nostrils flaring. Lette Why so satisfied? There was something strange about this place! "You. Tell me about the people here. The culture here."

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 22:36:58, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum shook a bit of wetness from his shoulder before passing the hubbub outside and pulling the door ajar. The shift could be a little messy at times, and was never particularly pleasant. However, he couldn't very well wedge all of himself through that little space, now could he? His body, otherwise, was dry and so dark. His hair was an explosion of inky black, with the occasional fat braid here and there. Someone had done a little work on him. His face was a wide, hard wedge, his nose was long and sloped and flat, and his mouth was wide. That towering, bulky body lumbered side to side, shallow nostrils flaring from time to time to pick up the foreign smells of the long hare that had come in before him. Strange. But stranger still was all that.. all that noise! Tiny and round, golden eyes snapped instantly to the blinded fool causing all the commotion. It was the lunge that put bulge through the whole of him. A quick pluck, and a meaty palm snatched Ebony right out of the way. "..Hrnf.."

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 22:44:34, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum would have frowned, if he had cared to. The goings on of this place were infinitesimal, compared to the world around them. His hand, heavy and thickly padded, drew away from the woman's arm as though she may, just may, have been infected with something. This was not his forte. She'd get a snort, 'fore he turned his freshly sculpted "human" face to the scene on the floor. Ah, but it seemed Baeum was not the only bystander. And he was so slow to ease to a crouch, draping massive arms ob the arch of his thighs and the bend of his knees, with a curious tilt of his dark head. ...What. The air he breathed was filled with unwashed skin, liquor, and failed magic. What a sad place.

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 22:52:09, as a chat transcript.
Sometimes, just sometimes, people had no business being where they were or having what they had. This one, for example, needed to either be strapped to a table or taken out back for one good shot between the eyes. His thick neck craned, wrinkling faintly in the back, to follow the mental straggler to the bar. Don't get to close, Hare. His breath huffed through low nostrils while his heavy body rose from its bundled squat. "Jester. Explain this to me." Oh, Jesus, he was never supposed to speak. That voice was nothing but Hell, a cruel mimic of something that otherwise might have been passable. "This? This is a jester?"

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 23:00:47, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum squinted already tiny eyes, wrapping his brain around the new description. And here he had thought he had already learned plenty enough about the species and their surroundings parties. "Humorous? Is that the idea?" Impossible. it was such a poor show. But, they did seem prone to such ridiculous business. And they were rather simple creatures. And-.. a weapon? So tiny! His meaty hand scooped right out between the two, plucking the show-blade from the little man's unsteady hand, to bring it to his nose and perhaps run a fat purple tongue over a flat side. Hm. "Jester. I think I understand."

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 23:12:15, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum pressed his tongue between his teeth, to taste the blade on both sides. No, nothing outlandish about this stuff. The metal came away a bit glossier than before, and might have left a spot of saliva on the floor where he dropped it. But the smell and taste were still stuck in his face, and it wasn't too pleasant. Far less pleasant was the thing that had filled the space before him. it was amorphous and uninteresting. Honestly, he couldn't place a description. After all, his brain had been given no right visual clues. Was he meant to feel threatened? Or perhaps at last the runt had scurried away, and this empty undescribed air-sack had replaced him? That black jaw flexed with a press of unseen teeth, while he rubbed his fingers against his own sloped belly. You know, need to get the Gross off of them. "It." He repeated. It was the only fitting word, really. Baeum really was like a giant, darkling parrot. "You have come a long way, hare. Do jesters hide their weakness behind these masks, where you roam?"

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 23:14:57, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum had opened his mouth to speak, but.. ugh.. what was that... awful, homosexual squealing? Looks like that dagger had one more use. With a jerk of his fist, it lodged in the brightly colored music machine, ceasing its awful reign.

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 23:23:14, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum would have loved to have known just what form it was which had been taken. But alas! He'd never been enlightened. Perhaps it was better that way. After all, the scraggly little alcoholic at the polished counter was suddenly so.. interesting. And talkative! Heh... his chuckle came rolling, gurgling from far too deep a place. And exploded with it! Humor, or, real humor! His upper body felt so heavy. Those hands, they drooped so close to the floor and his back arched sharply, and his hair escaped anything that may have twisted or pushed it back. You're losing focus, Baeum. "Yeess.. I see now! A jester. So simple and broken, not the mind to know or do or be without showing the fool within."

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 23:26:24, as a chat transcript.
No. The hand that rose near the long, ageless hare bore talons. Little ones, you know. They hadn't quite been there, before. "There is a disease these little ones develop. They can do nothing, like babes. Helpless and a danger to themselves and others. This is it. Surely."

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 23:30:47, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum gave a snort, nodding his big head and craning it on a slow inhale. Yes. He even smelled like something kicked away from the pile of healthy ones. What do they call those? Runts? "I am in the business of thinning herds, when herds grow too large. You. You need to be thinned, little pup."

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 23:37:09, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum curled his lips, a wide a cruel grin that had no business on any remotely humanoid face. "Of course not. You smell far worse." The breath he drew rattled in his throat, while a slow step brought him that much nearer. Every intake taught him a little more. "And... broken. Definitely broken." A sharp huff pushed that last breath from his chest, for it was very unwelcome. "This is your native tongue, and still your vocabulary is left wanting..." The beastman's tutting was thick and perhaps a little wet. Wide once more, the yellow of his eyes rolled to find a quieted drunk. Henry had been wise enough to go quiet. Clever thing.

# Gambit's Bar, 2010-06-15 23:42:40, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum grunted for the sharp turn that followed the runt's retreat. His body was still too new to expect so much from it. How very strange! "Ahm. Good hare, there are better things than this world. Such as this one. Small, but content. He knows his place, and it likely is not here. Do not worry too much for these lands. I expect something soon. A storm, or a flood. Nature grows hunger after she has been starved and battered for so long."

# Gambit's Bar, 2012-04-23 20:50:49, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum followed the direction, but not the pavement, of the road. The rider on his back was light as feather, but her gear and the magic on her person was always unwelcome, for the black beast. His thickly padded footfalls were quiet, for the flesh of them, though the thick curve of black talons tapped lightly as he moved. The great golden ring in his nose hung over the jutting angles of his teeth, weighed by the reins which swept back to the saddled Lady behind his great shoulders. The insulted displeasure on his ancient face was as real as it looked. This was a constant, for him. And yet he did not throw the girl from him or refuse to be spurred. Why, he was alarmingly [i]well behaved[i] for something so wickedly ugly. For the time being, the faintly iridescent plume of his mane slicked back along his powerful neck. But the nearer they came to the resting place up ahead, the more the higher his feathers rose. It was equal parts excitement and caution. He knew what would be required of him, if he was to follow Innead inside. That loping pace paused just outside, and his mean, wedge-shaped head whipped around to sniff at the legs which came down. The lazy press and drag of a thick purple tongue followed the passing of an arm. ..Omnom.

# Gambit's Bar, 2012-04-23 21:07:28, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum leaned his weight on the angle of a thick 'wrist,' leaning only slightly for his rider's dismount. He loved that she disliked his affections, in part because it was a form of permitted and subtle disobedience, and in part because he knew she knew what those moments inevitably reminded her of. Yesss, child. But Innead knew well the difficulties he was most likely to present, and for her plan, he shoved the flat of his sloping skull against her chest. For all his size, her could still wedge part of his face into her cleavage and huff a hot, dry breath. He did not want to linger out here like a simple beast. A wide, dulled black 'hand' rose from the earth and wrapped firmly around the back of her upper thigh and hip, forcing her up against the hard press of his face. ..Careful, he knew. The moment she decided to subdue him, his world would be one of misery.

# Gambit's Bar, 2012-04-23 21:30:14, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
What could she do, honestly? If she never allowed him his little joys, what a terrible beast he would undoubtedly prove to be. Even if he performed his forced duties well enough, he was a miserable attitude to suffer through for hours and hours at a time. Wasn't it well worth sharing her time in this place to avoid all that? He needn't even breathe a word of it. The cautionary air was always present. But his victory was incredibly small and short-lived Pants? Pants? Beings from the Old World did not wear pants. "..Laughable." Baeum did not laugh. Only once his gear had been meticulously removed could he spread his 'hands' into the gravel and curl forward as though testing the full arch of his bulky, powerful back. Nn.. and it popped. Oooph... and he seethed. It was a great effort to rear back and steady his feet beneath his awkward, hunched posture. The subtle collapse of his deep chest and widening of his shoulders allowed him at last to draw a deep, liquidy breath. Ohhh, it was always a tad torturous. Mimicking the body of Man had taken centuries to perform at such a rapid pace. But when at last he could stand still without catching his weight on a jerking step, he could raise little golden eyes to the woman commanded all that he was. The stems of his feathers had gone fat and the tufts had split. Whether a trick of the eye or change of the flesh, those long, plump dreadlocks were real enough. "How can I clothe myself when we stand here in the street." Oh he thought he was so God damn clever.

# Gambit's Bar, 2012-04-23 21:53:59, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Baeum drew a few slow, deep breaths, testing the shallowed depth of his chest and opening his hands beside his thighs. It was strange to exist differently, and as he did not undergo such a change very often, it always felt a little new. There was no time to truly bask in the moment, however. His strict Child Of Man was already seeking clothing for him, ridiculous as it was. Displeased with this unwelcome twist, he brought his wide hands to her shoulders and let his pelvis dip subtly. Honestly, freshly set on a pair of 'new legs,' he needed the help. But there was no need to slyly lower his bits and pieces to close to her face. One careful foot at a time eventually had him tightly packed in a pair of dark leggings. He was tugging irritably at the waist of them all the way to the door. It was not the permanent ring in his nose which bothered him so, but these bloody breeches. All of that was behind him the moment the door swept open at his behest. This place was packed with simple Children, and he was giddy for their easily flustered innocence. Be wary, Innead. Those tiny golden eyes were wide. If only the horns could have fallen away, too... At least they had retracted. Baeum's entrance was less than graceful, while he struggled to again master this long-missed body. His palm smacked to the door frame, and his slow, uneven pace nearly bumped right past a patron or two. The second, he pushed right out of the way. Excuse me.

# Gambit's Bar, 2012-04-23 22:14:11, as written by ThatsNotPoetry
Oh, the heat ripped and ached down his long, sloped back. Sure, it was straighter than usual, but his posture needed work. Like a boy accustomed to violent punishment but no less brazen for it, he went very still for the sharp reminder and waited stiffly for her to catch up with him. ...Alright. But even while she fought to restrain him via the force of her own will, the beastman's uncannily intelligent eyes snapped to the youngest of children in this place, and something in him fluttered joyously for the opportunity presented. He took it upon himself to decide on where he and his keeper, because the path allows him to smack a steadying hand to the table which served as Analee's source of unbiased moral support. "Hardly seems worth it anymore, does it?" The vice was low and tempting, urging her self limiting depression and negativity like an oversized shoulder-devil. But the black thing did not linger, for Innead was spurring him to a table. It was why his meaty fingers dragged across the wooden surface and his nails clipped off the edge, leaving Analee's table to teeter back into place. Mmhmhm..