"Says the man who pisses black on Mondays." They snatch up the cigarette, still hot. "I hope you choke on these things someday." They re-light it and take a drag.
He snorts, a laugh following after, "I've been smoking them since I was in grade school. Pretty sure I have cancer of some kind at this point," he says and tilts his head, drinking the soda "Yet here I am, alive... Cruel joke huh?"
"Game's only over when you're rich, boss." They speak casually, almost dismissively.
"I suppose." He shrugs and folds his arms over his broad chest "Do you know why Lydia, Pimento, Gretel, and Troll are here?"
He nods and folds his arms over his broad chest "I suppose. I'll go get my guns then." he sighs and stands up.
"Maybe just one, let's see what happens first." He stands up as well, "I'm gonna try and trick some more chump into playing a game." He smiles, holding out a low five before he walks off.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
the minuscule figure of Gretel sits on the edge of a table, watching folks pass by her with her fake eyes. Just barely two and a half feet tall, she’s shorter than some halflings, made to resemble a small child. With Skin made of fondant, hair made of bright red licorice, and with no heartbeat to speak of yet blood in the form syrup, she’s almost easy to mistake for a real human child from afar. On her neck, hidden for the most part by her hair, inscribed into her skin, is a saying in sylvan marking her as a creation of the famous Aunt Marjorie. She wears a simple red dress, with white detailings and shorter sleeves. She has a frown on her face, watching everyone walk by with a bored expression. She watches everyone who walks in, taking note of them.
Gretel comes by her often, she doesn’t ask questions if you don’t ask her any, which she appreciates, since she’s arrived more than once with blood on her hands. She watches Pimento and Nigel bicker about Pimento’s knife, chuckling to herself.
Pimento turns his head to the table they are sitting at, leaning against his chair and locking eyes with them, before rolling his own eyes in annoyance "Looks who it is, the baked brat." He says, putting knife away and gesturing them over. He's kept that name for them ever since he saw them up close, though he doesn't understand how true that statement is.
Gretel stands up on the table, jumping over to the other table Pimento sits at. “I have a name, you know…” she quietly chuckles to herself. “That’s a lotta gold you got there.”
Nigel, dressed in a button-up Hawaiian-esque shirt that is patterned with small weiner dogs, sits at the bar. His amber eyes may seem unfocused, but he is very much watching everything that goes on like a hawk. He shuffles through bills at the bar's counter, a cigarette pinched between his lips as he takes count of the money. His shaggy sandy-blonde hair falls over his eyes a bit, his face etched with scars from a life not worth remembering. A golden chain glints in the red pulsing lights of the bar, nestled between his pecs. He sets the bills aside and stretches, grumbling something about being 'too old'.
His eyes meet with Lydia's as he produces a toothy grin. He makes his way over, people parting the way for him. He stuffs his hands in his jean pockets and nods "Lydia, hello there."
Her eyes seem to light up just a little bit more when she sees him. "Hello there, Nigel." She responds, a smile in her voice that cannot be seen on her face. "What's the news today, friend?" She adds, getting right to business- it's always straight to business with Lydia.
"Apparently, from what I am hearing.." He sits down in a chair, leaning forward. "News of a small smuggling gang has popped up on the outskirts of the Filling district. Unexperienced folks, but have some good stuff that needs moving," he grins.
She leans a bit forwards as well. "Sounds like a good opportunity- if one's careful, that is. Hypothetically of course." She muses, chuckling a bit.
"Could take them over as a boss. They could thrive, perhaps. Even bring in more money maybe?"
"That does sound like a wonderful idea. Everyone could always use more money." She agrees- of course the mention of money would make her even more interested.
He chuckles and tilts his head "Did you hear? Pimento, Gretel, even Troll is here."
The bartender's mask-like, expressionless face appears before her. They lean down from seemingly nowhere to land in her peripheral vision. "The animal is back again, I see."
They slowly retract. By Gretel, on the bar, is a mug of spiked hot chocolate.
(If she can't drink it for some reason, the bartender is making fun of her. The event remains the same.)
*I’m deciding that Gretel can eat and drink, she just doesn’t have to.*
”Animal? Who are you callin’ an animal?” She rolls her eyes in annoyance, taking the hot chocolate in her hands.
The bartender chuckles in that disconcerting way they always do. They never sound happy. "People can't be bought or sold. I could buy you from that old hag in a heartbeat." Their hand drops some marshmallows into the hot chocolate, coming from the opposite direction.
"What do you think happened to Hansel?" They joke. They're not very funny either.
the minuscule figure of Gretel sits on the edge of a table, watching folks pass by her with her fake eyes. Just barely two and a half feet tall, she’s shorter than some halflings, made to resemble a small child. With Skin made of fondant, hair made of bright red licorice, and with no heartbeat to speak of yet blood in the form syrup, she’s almost easy to mistake for a real human child from afar. On her neck, hidden for the most part by her hair, inscribed into her skin, is a saying in sylvan marking her as a creation of the famous Aunt Marjorie. She wears a simple red dress, with white detailings and shorter sleeves. She has a frown on her face, watching everyone walk by with a bored expression. She watches everyone who walks in, taking note of them.
Gretel comes by her often, she doesn’t ask questions if you don’t ask her any, which she appreciates, since she’s arrived more than once with blood on her hands. She watches Pimento and Nigel bicker about Pimento’s knife, chuckling to herself.
Pimento turns his head to the table they are sitting at, leaning against his chair and locking eyes with them, before rolling his own eyes in annoyance "Looks who it is, the baked brat." He says, putting knife away and gesturing them over. He's kept that name for them ever since he saw them up close, though he doesn't understand how true that statement is.
Gretel stands up on the table, jumping over to the other table Pimento sits at. “I have a name, you know…” she quietly chuckles to herself. “That’s a lotta gold you got there.”
"I know ya do." He smirks, watching them with a raised eyebrow before shaking his head, "The whole o' it's mine, unless you wanna try and play me for it?" He offers, and considering Gretel knows Pimento, she knows that would be a mistake.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
The bartender's mask-like, expressionless face appears before her. They lean down from seemingly nowhere to land in her peripheral vision. "The animal is back again, I see."
They slowly retract. By Gretel, on the bar, is a mug of spiked hot chocolate.
(If she can't drink it for some reason, the bartender is making fun of her. The event remains the same.)
*I’m deciding that Gretel can eat and drink, she just doesn’t have to.*
”Animal? Who are you callin’ an animal?” She rolls her eyes in annoyance, taking the hot chocolate in her hands.
The bartender chuckles in that disconcerting way they always do. They never sound happy. "People can't be bought or sold. I could buy you from that old hag in a heartbeat." Their hand drops some marshmallows into the hot chocolate, coming from the opposite direction.
"What do you think happened to Hansel?" They joke. They're not very funny either.
“Oh, shut up.” she replies, rolling her eyes again. Her face isn’t very expressive when it’s not covered by fey glamour, so she sticks to only a couple different, rigid facial movements to express her emotions.
”I dunno what happened to Hansel. Maybe someone ate him. Maybe I killed ‘em.” She says, deadpan.
"Apparently, from what I am hearing.." He sits down in a chair, leaning forward. "News of a small smuggling gang has popped up on the outskirts of the Filling district. Unexperienced folks, but have some good stuff that needs moving," he grins.
She leans a bit forwards as well. "Sounds like a good opportunity- if one's careful, that is. Hypothetically of course." She muses, chuckling a bit.
"Could take them over as a boss. They could thrive, perhaps. Even bring in more money maybe?"
"That does sound like a wonderful idea. Everyone could always use more money." She agrees- of course the mention of money would make her even more interested.
He chuckles and tilts his head "Did you hear? Pimento, Gretel, even Troll is here."
"I know- I can see 'em." She looks over his shoulder back at Pimento for a second. "Think they got the news too?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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)
the minuscule figure of Gretel sits on the edge of a table, watching folks pass by her with her fake eyes. Just barely two and a half feet tall, she’s shorter than some halflings, made to resemble a small child. With Skin made of fondant, hair made of bright red licorice, and with no heartbeat to speak of yet blood in the form syrup, she’s almost easy to mistake for a real human child from afar. On her neck, hidden for the most part by her hair, inscribed into her skin, is a saying in sylvan marking her as a creation of the famous Aunt Marjorie. She wears a simple red dress, with white detailings and shorter sleeves. She has a frown on her face, watching everyone walk by with a bored expression. She watches everyone who walks in, taking note of them.
Gretel comes by her often, she doesn’t ask questions if you don’t ask her any, which she appreciates, since she’s arrived more than once with blood on her hands. She watches Pimento and Nigel bicker about Pimento’s knife, chuckling to herself.
Pimento turns his head to the table they are sitting at, leaning against his chair and locking eyes with them, before rolling his own eyes in annoyance "Looks who it is, the baked brat." He says, putting knife away and gesturing them over. He's kept that name for them ever since he saw them up close, though he doesn't understand how true that statement is.
Gretel stands up on the table, jumping over to the other table Pimento sits at. “I have a name, you know…” she quietly chuckles to herself. “That’s a lotta gold you got there.”
"I know ya do." He smirks, watching them with a raised eyebrow before shaking his head, "The whole o' it's mine, unless you wanna try and play me for it?" He offers, and considering Gretel knows Pimento, she knows that would be a mistake.
She giggles. “I’m not an idiot, Pimento.” She sits down, taking a sip of her spiked hot chocolate. “You scammed a whole bunch of dummies, I assume?”
"Apparently, from what I am hearing.." He sits down in a chair, leaning forward. "News of a small smuggling gang has popped up on the outskirts of the Filling district. Unexperienced folks, but have some good stuff that needs moving," he grins.
She leans a bit forwards as well. "Sounds like a good opportunity- if one's careful, that is. Hypothetically of course." She muses, chuckling a bit.
"Could take them over as a boss. They could thrive, perhaps. Even bring in more money maybe?"
"That does sound like a wonderful idea. Everyone could always use more money." She agrees- of course the mention of money would make her even more interested.
He chuckles and tilts his head "Did you hear? Pimento, Gretel, even Troll is here."
"I know- I can see 'em." She looks over his shoulder back at Pimento for a second. "Think they got the news too?"
"Unsure. Questioned him about. Just as confused as the rest of us." he huffs, pulling out his cigarette pack from his jean's pocket.
Pimento does make sure to wave at Lydia and Troll, not much, just kind of acknowledging that they are here as well, gesturing with the hand holding his deadly cocktail.
She giggles. “I’m not an idiot, Pimento.” She sits down, taking a sip of her spiked hot chocolate. “You scammed a whole bunch of dummies, I assume?”
"A whole bunch of new dummies, never seen 'em around before, decided to have some fun with 'em. Now I'm 50 gold richer." He grins brightly, "A bartender give you some grief?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
He chuckles and tilts his head "Did you hear? Pimento, Gretel, even Troll is here."
"I know- I can see 'em." She looks over his shoulder back at Pimento for a second. "Think they got the news too?"
"Unsure. Questioned him about. Just as confused as the rest of us." he huffs, pulling out his cigarette pack from his jean's pocket.
"Interesting... Must be something happening where someone wants us all in one spot, then." She chuckles, her eyes drifting towards the cigarette pack. "Need a light?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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)
He chuckles and tilts his head "Did you hear? Pimento, Gretel, even Troll is here."
"I know- I can see 'em." She looks over his shoulder back at Pimento for a second. "Think they got the news too?"
"Unsure. Questioned him about. Just as confused as the rest of us." he huffs, pulling out his cigarette pack from his jean's pocket.
"Interesting... Must be something happening where someone wants us all in one spot, then." She chuckles, her eyes drifting towards the cigarette pack. "Need a light?"
He shakes his head "Got my own, just need something to gnaw on while I think." he shrugs.
She giggles. “I’m not an idiot, Pimento.” She sits down, taking a sip of her spiked hot chocolate. “You scammed a whole bunch of dummies, I assume?”
"A whole bunch of new dummies, never seen 'em around before, decided to have some fun with 'em. Now I'm 50 gold richer." He grins brightly, "A bartender give you some grief?"
“Nothin’ I haven’t heard before. 50 gold? Whew, you got them good.”
Pimento does make sure to wave at Lydia and Troll, not much, just kind of acknowledging that they are here as well, gesturing with the hand holding his deadly cocktail.
Lydia waves back at him with a gloved hand, acknowledging his presence as well.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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)
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"I suppose." He shrugs and folds his arms over his broad chest "Do you know why Lydia, Pimento, Gretel, and Troll are here?"
"Obsessed? Maybe... Devoted? Very."
[Taken by my blessed beloved]
"Maybe just one, let's see what happens first." He stands up as well, "I'm gonna try and trick some more chump into playing a game." He smiles, holding out a low five before he walks off.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
Gretel stands up on the table, jumping over to the other table Pimento sits at. “I have a name, you know…” she quietly chuckles to herself. “That’s a lotta gold you got there.”
He chuckles and tilts his head "Did you hear? Pimento, Gretel, even Troll is here."
"Obsessed? Maybe... Devoted? Very."
[Taken by my blessed beloved]
The bartender chuckles in that disconcerting way they always do. They never sound happy. "People can't be bought or sold. I could buy you from that old hag in a heartbeat." Their hand drops some marshmallows into the hot chocolate, coming from the opposite direction.
"What do you think happened to Hansel?" They joke. They're not very funny either.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
"I know ya do." He smirks, watching them with a raised eyebrow before shaking his head, "The whole o' it's mine, unless you wanna try and play me for it?" He offers, and considering Gretel knows Pimento, she knows that would be a mistake.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
"Wanted all the dangerous mother(gp)ers in the room. Pigs are catching on. As for Troll, I don't have a clue."
(You can make an insight check if you like.)
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
9
"Why?" he raised a brow, his expression turning more to confusion.
"Obsessed? Maybe... Devoted? Very."
[Taken by my blessed beloved]
“Oh, shut up.” she replies, rolling her eyes again. Her face isn’t very expressive when it’s not covered by fey glamour, so she sticks to only a couple different, rigid facial movements to express her emotions.
”I dunno what happened to Hansel. Maybe someone ate him. Maybe I killed ‘em.” She says, deadpan.
"I know- I can see 'em." She looks over his shoulder back at Pimento for a second. "Think they got the news too?"
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)
She giggles. “I’m not an idiot, Pimento.” She sits down, taking a sip of her spiked hot chocolate. “You scammed a whole bunch of dummies, I assume?”
"Unsure. Questioned him about. Just as confused as the rest of us." he huffs, pulling out his cigarette pack from his jean's pocket.
"Obsessed? Maybe... Devoted? Very."
[Taken by my blessed beloved]
(Oh yeah, other people)
Pimento does make sure to wave at Lydia and Troll, not much, just kind of acknowledging that they are here as well, gesturing with the hand holding his deadly cocktail.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
"A whole bunch of new dummies, never seen 'em around before, decided to have some fun with 'em. Now I'm 50 gold richer." He grins brightly, "A bartender give you some grief?"
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
"Interesting... Must be something happening where someone wants us all in one spot, then." She chuckles, her eyes drifting towards the cigarette pack. "Need a light?"
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)
"Rephrase." They reduce the cigarette to the filter with a second drag.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
He shakes his head "Got my own, just need something to gnaw on while I think." he shrugs.
"Obsessed? Maybe... Devoted? Very."
[Taken by my blessed beloved]
He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose "You know something obviously. Why aren't you telling me?" he asked.
"Obsessed? Maybe... Devoted? Very."
[Taken by my blessed beloved]
“Nothin’ I haven’t heard before. 50 gold? Whew, you got them good.”
Lydia waves back at him with a gloved hand, acknowledging his presence as well.
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)