You probably wouldn't notice but Troll lets his attention to you loosen during your rant but as he senses it end he looks back and says, "Pimento's a funny name. Where's it from?"
It’s subtle, practically unnoticeable for someone who doesn’t know Pimento, but his eyes fill with rage as one of them twitches, before he quickly kills the rage within himself, or at least holds it in for later “My parents…”
He turns and looks straight at you, waiting for you to continue.
You probably wouldn't notice but Troll lets his attention to you loosen during your rant but as he senses it end he looks back and says, "Pimento's a funny name. Where's it from?"
It’s subtle, practically unnoticeable for someone who doesn’t know Pimento, but his eyes fill with rage as one of them twitches, before he quickly kills the rage within himself, or at least holds it in for later “My parents…”
He turns and looks straight at you, waiting for you to continue.
He sighs “What does it matter ta ya anyway? How about you tell me your name before I get to the reasoning of mine? I’d rather call ya by more than your species.”
His beard shifts into a shape that would sit over a smile, "Under the coats that sit like geological formations layered one over the other, you'd find a cardboard box. If you opened that box, a box with the word 'Heart' written on it in faded ink. If you opened that box, which is stained with blooming crop circles of mold. If you opened that box, you'd find a plague of rats that would pour out and devour you, body, mind, and soul." He leans back, "Please don't open that box."
She laughs- really, it's more of a cackle. "You know, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that was the case." She responds, her voice holding a smile that cannot be seen on her face.
He is silent for a long while before speaking again, "You get warm in there?"
"Not really. Actually, most of the time I feel really cold." She explains, tapping her gloved fingers on the bar table. The leather gloves have short metal claws on the end, thin and sharp, that leave the faintest of indentations in the wood where they touch the table.
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Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Nigel is in the back of the bar, grumbling while assembling a pistol. He bought it was weird that all these folks were showing up only to find out that they were called her because of his bloody bartender wanting to use them as protection. He lights yet another cigarette and puffs on it, counting ammo for the fifth time now.
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"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
You probably wouldn't notice but Troll lets his attention to you loosen during your rant but as he senses it end he looks back and says, "Pimento's a funny name. Where's it from?"
It’s subtle, practically unnoticeable for someone who doesn’t know Pimento, but his eyes fill with rage as one of them twitches, before he quickly kills the rage within himself, or at least holds it in for later “My parents…”
He turns and looks straight at you, waiting for you to continue.
He sighs “What does it matter ta ya anyway? How about you tell me your name before I get to the reasoning of mine? I’d rather call ya by more than your species.”
"Ain't my species, just a name. And it's all the name you're gonna get."
Nigel is in the back of the bar, grumbling while assembling a pistol. He bought it was weird that all these folks were showing up only to find out that they were called her because of his bloody bartender wanting to use them as protection. He lights yet another cigarette and puffs on it, counting ammo for the fifth time now.
Pimento looks over and seems them mumbling to themselves as they do “Yo! Nigel! What’s up? Why’re ya puttin’ that gun together? I thought no weapons were allowed? Do I get to use my knives now?”
Nigel is in the back of the bar, grumbling while assembling a pistol. He bought it was weird that all these folks were showing up only to find out that they were called her because of his bloody bartender wanting to use them as protection. He lights yet another cigarette and puffs on it, counting ammo for the fifth time now.
Pimento looks over and seems them mumbling to themselves as they do “Yo! Nigel! What’s up? Why’re ya puttin’ that gun together? I thought no weapons were allowed? Do I get to use my knives now?”
"Not yet, we got an issue you though." He snarls, clearly agitated "My bartender called us all here. A hit had been put on his head and he called us all here for protection."
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"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
You probably wouldn't notice but Troll lets his attention to you loosen during your rant but as he senses it end he looks back and says, "Pimento's a funny name. Where's it from?"
It’s subtle, practically unnoticeable for someone who doesn’t know Pimento, but his eyes fill with rage as one of them twitches, before he quickly kills the rage within himself, or at least holds it in for later “My parents…”
He turns and looks straight at you, waiting for you to continue.
He sighs “What does it matter ta ya anyway? How about you tell me your name before I get to the reasoning of mine? I’d rather call ya by more than your species.”
"Ain't my species, just a name. And it's all the name you're gonna get."
“Then why should I tell ya any more about myself? Doesn’t add up ta me.” He sighs, looking down at the counter.
His beard shifts into a shape that would sit over a smile, "Under the coats that sit like geological formations layered one over the other, you'd find a cardboard box. If you opened that box, a box with the word 'Heart' written on it in faded ink. If you opened that box, which is stained with blooming crop circles of mold. If you opened that box, you'd find a plague of rats that would pour out and devour you, body, mind, and soul." He leans back, "Please don't open that box."
She laughs- really, it's more of a cackle. "You know, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that was the case." She responds, her voice holding a smile that cannot be seen on her face.
He is silent for a long while before speaking again, "You get warm in there?"
"Not really. Actually, most of the time I feel really cold." She explains, tapping her gloved fingers on the bar table. The leather gloves have short metal claws on the end, thin and sharp, that leave the faintest of indentations in the wood where they touch the table.
He stares at the claws as he speaks, "Yesterday a man came and through a beer can at me. Who does that? I wasn't doing nothing, just walking down the street. Then this man I ain't never met came out, called me some names I ain't gonna repeat, and chucked the beer can at my head." He sits silent for a moment and scratches at his hairy jaw. "I kept the beer can and turned it in for a few coins. Coins I just now spent on a drink for myself. If that man was here, I'd throw my bottle at him to return the favor." He chuckles softly before finishing, "Do you think he knew what he was throwing his can at?
Nigel is in the back of the bar, grumbling while assembling a pistol. He bought it was weird that all these folks were showing up only to find out that they were called her because of his bloody bartender wanting to use them as protection. He lights yet another cigarette and puffs on it, counting ammo for the fifth time now.
Pimento looks over and seems them mumbling to themselves as they do “Yo! Nigel! What’s up? Why’re ya puttin’ that gun together? I thought no weapons were allowed? Do I get to use my knives now?”
"Not yet, we got an issue you though." He snarls, clearly agitated "My bartender called us all here. A hit had been put on his head and he called us all here for protection."
His eye twitches as even more rage fills him, bottling it up for later “That [gp]ing- I’m going to ring him by the neck for this!” He trembles for a moment before closing his eyes, “Who put the hit on ‘em?”
Nigel is in the back of the bar, grumbling while assembling a pistol. He bought it was weird that all these folks were showing up only to find out that they were called her because of his bloody bartender wanting to use them as protection. He lights yet another cigarette and puffs on it, counting ammo for the fifth time now.
Pimento looks over and seems them mumbling to themselves as they do “Yo! Nigel! What’s up? Why’re ya puttin’ that gun together? I thought no weapons were allowed? Do I get to use my knives now?”
"Not yet, we got an issue you though." He snarls, clearly agitated "My bartender called us all here. A hit had been put on his head and he called us all here for protection."
"I thought I smelt something funny going on." Mutters Troll, making it clear that he overheard. He nods to himself as if something was just proven.
You probably wouldn't notice but Troll lets his attention to you loosen during your rant but as he senses it end he looks back and says, "Pimento's a funny name. Where's it from?"
It’s subtle, practically unnoticeable for someone who doesn’t know Pimento, but his eyes fill with rage as one of them twitches, before he quickly kills the rage within himself, or at least holds it in for later “My parents…”
He turns and looks straight at you, waiting for you to continue.
He sighs “What does it matter ta ya anyway? How about you tell me your name before I get to the reasoning of mine? I’d rather call ya by more than your species.”
"Ain't my species, just a name. And it's all the name you're gonna get."
“Then why should I tell ya any more about myself? Doesn’t add up ta me.” He sighs, looking down at the counter.
"Most folks favorite subject is themselves. I thought I was doing you a favor."
You probably wouldn't notice but Troll lets his attention to you loosen during your rant but as he senses it end he looks back and says, "Pimento's a funny name. Where's it from?"
It’s subtle, practically unnoticeable for someone who doesn’t know Pimento, but his eyes fill with rage as one of them twitches, before he quickly kills the rage within himself, or at least holds it in for later “My parents…”
He turns and looks straight at you, waiting for you to continue.
He sighs “What does it matter ta ya anyway? How about you tell me your name before I get to the reasoning of mine? I’d rather call ya by more than your species.”
"Ain't my species, just a name. And it's all the name you're gonna get."
“Then why should I tell ya any more about myself? Doesn’t add up ta me.” He sighs, looking down at the counter.
"Most folks favorite subject is themselves. I thought I was doing you a favor."
“You think my favorite subject is myself? After all the time we’ve spent working together. Well [gp] you too.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Most folks favorite subject is themselves. I thought I was doing you a favor."
“You think my favorite subject is myself? After all the time we’ve spent working together. Well [gp] you too.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Don't act like you're better than most everyone else. I couldn't say I was different. What is your favorite subject then?"
“That’s none o’ ya business Troll! Mind yours and I’ll mind mine.” He crosses his arms in annoyance, scoffing at them angrily.
He scratches his nose. He's dealt with anger and screaming before. Comes from living in a hobo camp. It takes a lot more than that to get under his skin.
"Most folks favorite subject is themselves. I thought I was doing you a favor."
“You think my favorite subject is myself? After all the time we’ve spent working together. Well [gp] you too.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Don't act like you're better than most everyone else. I couldn't say I was different. What is your favorite subject then?"
“That’s none o’ ya business Troll! Mind yours and I’ll mind mine.” He crosses his arms in annoyance, scoffing at them angrily.
He scratches his nose. He's dealt with anger and screaming before. Comes from living in a hobo camp. It takes a lot more than that to get under his skin.
He rubs his temples, “If ya want ta know so bad, my parents matter the most ta me, that get ya fine?” He says, finishing his cocktail. Troll knows well enough when Pimento is obviously lying, and he isn’t.
"Most folks favorite subject is themselves. I thought I was doing you a favor."
“You think my favorite subject is myself? After all the time we’ve spent working together. Well [gp] you too.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Don't act like you're better than most everyone else. I couldn't say I was different. What is your favorite subject then?"
“That’s none o’ ya business Troll! Mind yours and I’ll mind mine.” He crosses his arms in annoyance, scoffing at them angrily.
He scratches his nose. He's dealt with anger and screaming before. Comes from living in a hobo camp. It takes a lot more than that to get under his skin.
He rubs his temples, “If ya want ta know so bad, my parents matter the most ta me, that get ya fine?” He says, finishing his cocktail. Troll knows well enough when Pimento is obviously lying, and he isn’t.
"Most folks favorite subject is themselves. I thought I was doing you a favor."
“You think my favorite subject is myself? After all the time we’ve spent working together. Well [gp] you too.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Don't act like you're better than most everyone else. I couldn't say I was different. What is your favorite subject then?"
“That’s none o’ ya business Troll! Mind yours and I’ll mind mine.” He crosses his arms in annoyance, scoffing at them angrily.
He scratches his nose. He's dealt with anger and screaming before. Comes from living in a hobo camp. It takes a lot more than that to get under his skin.
He rubs his temples, “If ya want ta know so bad, my parents matter the most ta me, that get ya fine?” He says, finishing his cocktail. Troll knows well enough when Pimento is obviously lying, and he isn’t.
He nods knowingly, "Ah... mama's boy."
He twitches “I’m still willin’ ta stab ya! Don’t push me ya-“ He stops himself, shaking his head “Not worth it.”
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He turns and looks straight at you, waiting for you to continue.
He sighs “What does it matter ta ya anyway? How about you tell me your name before I get to the reasoning of mine? I’d rather call ya by more than your species.”
"Not really. Actually, most of the time I feel really cold." She explains, tapping her gloved fingers on the bar table. The leather gloves have short metal claws on the end, thin and sharp, that leave the faintest of indentations in the wood where they touch the table.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Nigel is in the back of the bar, grumbling while assembling a pistol. He bought it was weird that all these folks were showing up only to find out that they were called her because of his bloody bartender wanting to use them as protection. He lights yet another cigarette and puffs on it, counting ammo for the fifth time now.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"Ain't my species, just a name. And it's all the name you're gonna get."
*I'll start The Event tomorrow, I have like 24 minutes now*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Pimento looks over and seems them mumbling to themselves as they do “Yo! Nigel! What’s up? Why’re ya puttin’ that gun together? I thought no weapons were allowed? Do I get to use my knives now?”
"Not yet, we got an issue you though." He snarls, clearly agitated "My bartender called us all here. A hit had been put on his head and he called us all here for protection."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
“Then why should I tell ya any more about myself? Doesn’t add up ta me.” He sighs, looking down at the counter.
He stares at the claws as he speaks, "Yesterday a man came and through a beer can at me. Who does that? I wasn't doing nothing, just walking down the street. Then this man I ain't never met came out, called me some names I ain't gonna repeat, and chucked the beer can at my head." He sits silent for a moment and scratches at his hairy jaw. "I kept the beer can and turned it in for a few coins. Coins I just now spent on a drink for myself. If that man was here, I'd throw my bottle at him to return the favor." He chuckles softly before finishing, "Do you think he knew what he was throwing his can at?
His eye twitches as even more rage fills him, bottling it up for later “That [gp]ing- I’m going to ring him by the neck for this!” He trembles for a moment before closing his eyes, “Who put the hit on ‘em?”
"I thought I smelt something funny going on." Mutters Troll, making it clear that he overheard. He nods to himself as if something was just proven.
"Most folks favorite subject is themselves. I thought I was doing you a favor."
“You think my favorite subject is myself? After all the time we’ve spent working together. Well [gp] you too.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Don't act like you're better than most everyone else. I couldn't say I was different. What is your favorite subject then?"
“That’s none o’ ya business Troll! Mind yours and I’ll mind mine.” He crosses his arms in annoyance, scoffing at them angrily.
He scratches his nose. He's dealt with anger and screaming before. Comes from living in a hobo camp. It takes a lot more than that to get under his skin.
He rubs his temples, “If ya want ta know so bad, my parents matter the most ta me, that get ya fine?” He says, finishing his cocktail. Troll knows well enough when Pimento is obviously lying, and he isn’t.
He nods knowingly, "Ah... mama's boy."
He twitches “I’m still willin’ ta stab ya! Don’t push me ya-“ He stops himself, shaking his head “Not worth it.”