Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Pimento slinks his way next to them, smirking at them for a moment as he sits his cocktail “Troll! How ya doin’ buddy?” He’s never this nice, to anyone the Troll has seen.
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Pimento slinks his way next to them, smirking at them for a moment as he sits his cocktail “Troll! How ya doin’ buddy?” He’s never this nice, to anyone the Troll has seen.
You feel a low rumble sound from somewhere deep in this mountain of a man. His weight shifts slightly but his eyes don't open wider. "Pimento... cut the crap."
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Pimento slinks his way next to them, smirking at them for a moment as he sits his cocktail “Troll! How ya doin’ buddy?” He’s never this nice, to anyone the Troll has seen.
You feel a low rumble sound from somewhere deep in this mountain of a man. His weight shifts slightly but his eyes don't open wider. "Pimento... cut the crap."
He cackles like the villain he is, “I try bein’ nice one time and ya call it crap? Consider it cut. Ya lookin’ ta play a game? Looks like we’re gonna be kept here a bit longer, Five Finger Fillet?”
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Pimento slinks his way next to them, smirking at them for a moment as he sits his cocktail “Troll! How ya doin’ buddy?” He’s never this nice, to anyone the Troll has seen.
You feel a low rumble sound from somewhere deep in this mountain of a man. His weight shifts slightly but his eyes don't open wider. "Pimento... cut the crap."
He cackles like the villain he is, “I try bein’ nice one time and ya call it crap? Consider it cut. Ya lookin’ ta play a game? Looks like we’re gonna be kept here a bit longer, Five Finger Fillet?”
"I wouldn't be calling it crap if you were trying to be nice, no sir." He opens his right eye, "I don't want to play any of your games, and you wouldn't want to play any of mine."
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Lydia sits at the bar with a chair of distance between Troll and her, mostly looking around at their surroundings and muttering to herself as she takes mental note of something.
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)
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Pimento slinks his way next to them, smirking at them for a moment as he sits his cocktail “Troll! How ya doin’ buddy?” He’s never this nice, to anyone the Troll has seen.
You feel a low rumble sound from somewhere deep in this mountain of a man. His weight shifts slightly but his eyes don't open wider. "Pimento... cut the crap."
He cackles like the villain he is, “I try bein’ nice one time and ya call it crap? Consider it cut. Ya lookin’ ta play a game? Looks like we’re gonna be kept here a bit longer, Five Finger Fillet?”
"I wouldn't be calling it crap if you were trying to be nice, no sir." He opens his right eye, "I don't want to play any of your games, and you wouldn't want to play any of mine."
He sighs, flicking his knife away, and they never even saw him take it out in the first place “Fair enough… heard there’s a new gang around, bunch a novice that got their hands on some good stuff.”
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Lydia sits at the bar with a chair of distance between Troll and her, mostly looking around at their surroundings and muttering to herself as she takes mental note of something.
He stirs and rolls his head to look straight at her, pulling his long hair out of his face so he can see clearly. "You know... I think I know what you are under all those rags."
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Pimento slinks his way next to them, smirking at them for a moment as he sits his cocktail “Troll! How ya doin’ buddy?” He’s never this nice, to anyone the Troll has seen.
You feel a low rumble sound from somewhere deep in this mountain of a man. His weight shifts slightly but his eyes don't open wider. "Pimento... cut the crap."
He cackles like the villain he is, “I try bein’ nice one time and ya call it crap? Consider it cut. Ya lookin’ ta play a game? Looks like we’re gonna be kept here a bit longer, Five Finger Fillet?”
"I wouldn't be calling it crap if you were trying to be nice, no sir." He opens his right eye, "I don't want to play any of your games, and you wouldn't want to play any of mine."
He sighs, flicking his knife away, and they never even saw him take it out in the first place “Fair enough… heard there’s a new gang around, bunch a novice that got their hands on some good stuff.”
He moves his umbrella from one arm to the other, "Whereabouts?"
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Pimento slinks his way next to them, smirking at them for a moment as he sits his cocktail “Troll! How ya doin’ buddy?” He’s never this nice, to anyone the Troll has seen.
You feel a low rumble sound from somewhere deep in this mountain of a man. His weight shifts slightly but his eyes don't open wider. "Pimento... cut the crap."
He cackles like the villain he is, “I try bein’ nice one time and ya call it crap? Consider it cut. Ya lookin’ ta play a game? Looks like we’re gonna be kept here a bit longer, Five Finger Fillet?”
"I wouldn't be calling it crap if you were trying to be nice, no sir." He opens his right eye, "I don't want to play any of your games, and you wouldn't want to play any of mine."
He sighs, flicking his knife away, and they never even saw him take it out in the first place “Fair enough… heard there’s a new gang around, bunch a novice that got their hands on some good stuff.”
He moves his umbrella from one arm to the other, "Whereabouts?"
“Ain’t been told that yet, you interested as much as I am?” He smiles, tapping the bar with a nail, looking up at them with that look in his eyes.
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Lydia sits at the bar with a chair of distance between Troll and her, mostly looking around at their surroundings and muttering to herself as she takes mental note of something.
He stirs and rolls his head to look straight at her, pulling his long hair out of his face so he can see clearly. "You know... I think I know what you are under all those rags."
Now he has her full attention, her emerald eyes staring back at him from the shadow of her hood. "Is that so? Alright, I'll give you one guess."
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 moves his umbrella from one arm to the other, "Whereabouts?"
“Ain’t been told that yet, you interested as much as I am?” He smiles, tapping the bar with a nail, looking up at them with that look in his eyes.
"Certainly," He says moving the umbrella back to where it hung on its original arm, "Sure am. The new ones think too much of themselves. They go where they ain't got no right to go and do what they ain't got no right to do. You know what 'good stuff' they got?"
He moves his umbrella from one arm to the other, "Whereabouts?"
“Ain’t been told that yet, you interested as much as I am?” He smiles, tapping the bar with a nail, looking up at them with that look in his eyes.
"Certainly," He says moving the umbrella back to where it hung on its original arm, "Sure am. The new ones think too much of themselves. They go where they ain't got no right to go and do what they ain't got no right to do. You know what 'good stuff' they got?"
“You know Nigel doesn’t tell me nothin’, not no more anyway, I mess up one job and all of a sudden I’m a liability, I can’t know what we’re after!” He begins going on one of his tangents that leads nowhere, he’d never do anything about it anyway, Troll learned that about Pimento a long time ago.
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Lydia sits at the bar with a chair of distance between Troll and her, mostly looking around at their surroundings and muttering to herself as she takes mental note of something.
He stirs and rolls his head to look straight at her, pulling his long hair out of his face so he can see clearly. "You know... I think I know what you are under all those rags."
Now he has her full attention, her emerald eyes staring back at him from the shadow of her hood. "Is that so? Alright, I'll give you one guess."
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."
He moves his umbrella from one arm to the other, "Whereabouts?"
“Ain’t been told that yet, you interested as much as I am?” He smiles, tapping the bar with a nail, looking up at them with that look in his eyes.
"Certainly," He says moving the umbrella back to where it hung on its original arm, "Sure am. The new ones think too much of themselves. They go where they ain't got no right to go and do what they ain't got no right to do. You know what 'good stuff' they got?"
“You know Nigel doesn’t tell me nothin’, not no more anyway, I mess up one job and all of a sudden I’m a liability, I can’t know what we’re after!” He begins going on one of his tangents that leads nowhere, he’d never do anything about it anyway, Troll learned that about Pimento a long time ago.
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?"
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Lydia sits at the bar with a chair of distance between Troll and her, mostly looking around at their surroundings and muttering to herself as she takes mental note of something.
He stirs and rolls his head to look straight at her, pulling his long hair out of his face so he can see clearly. "You know... I think I know what you are under all those rags."
Now he has her full attention, her emerald eyes staring back at him from the shadow of her hood. "Is that so? Alright, I'll give you one guess."
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.
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 moves his umbrella from one arm to the other, "Whereabouts?"
“Ain’t been told that yet, you interested as much as I am?” He smiles, tapping the bar with a nail, looking up at them with that look in his eyes.
"Certainly," He says moving the umbrella back to where it hung on its original arm, "Sure am. The new ones think too much of themselves. They go where they ain't got no right to go and do what they ain't got no right to do. You know what 'good stuff' they got?"
“You know Nigel doesn’t tell me nothin’, not no more anyway, I mess up one job and all of a sudden I’m a liability, I can’t know what we’re after!” He begins going on one of his tangents that leads nowhere, he’d never do anything about it anyway, Troll learned that about Pimento a long time ago.
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…”
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?"
*I'm feeling great! I love the different character interactions, and I'm curious as to what the plot holds for us once things truly kick into gear!*
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)
*Getting my phone on here, can’t wait for Wendi and Dark to be back.*
Troll is humming to himself as he sits at the bar. The eye under the scars is closed but if you look closely his right eye is just barely open. His fingers are drumming on the counter to the beat of his tune and if you listen closely you can hear him muttering the words in Druidic.
Pimento slinks his way next to them, smirking at them for a moment as he sits his cocktail “Troll! How ya doin’ buddy?” He’s never this nice, to anyone the Troll has seen.
You feel a low rumble sound from somewhere deep in this mountain of a man. His weight shifts slightly but his eyes don't open wider. "Pimento... cut the crap."
He cackles like the villain he is, “I try bein’ nice one time and ya call it crap? Consider it cut. Ya lookin’ ta play a game? Looks like we’re gonna be kept here a bit longer, Five Finger Fillet?”
"I wouldn't be calling it crap if you were trying to be nice, no sir." He opens his right eye, "I don't want to play any of your games, and you wouldn't want to play any of mine."
Lydia sits at the bar with a chair of distance between Troll and her, mostly looking around at their surroundings and muttering to herself as she takes mental note of something.
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 sighs, flicking his knife away, and they never even saw him take it out in the first place “Fair enough… heard there’s a new gang around, bunch a novice that got their hands on some good stuff.”
He stirs and rolls his head to look straight at her, pulling his long hair out of his face so he can see clearly. "You know... I think I know what you are under all those rags."
He moves his umbrella from one arm to the other, "Whereabouts?"
“Ain’t been told that yet, you interested as much as I am?” He smiles, tapping the bar with a nail, looking up at them with that look in his eyes.
Now he has her full attention, her emerald eyes staring back at him from the shadow of her hood. "Is that so? Alright, I'll give you one guess."
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)
"Certainly," He says moving the umbrella back to where it hung on its original arm, "Sure am. The new ones think too much of themselves. They go where they ain't got no right to go and do what they ain't got no right to do. You know what 'good stuff' they got?"
“You know Nigel doesn’t tell me nothin’, not no more anyway, I mess up one job and all of a sudden I’m a liability, I can’t know what we’re after!” He begins going on one of his tangents that leads nowhere, he’d never do anything about it anyway, Troll learned that about Pimento a long time ago.
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."
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?"
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.
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)
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 is silent for a long while before speaking again, "You get warm in there?"