*I just love it when theres something you have to randomly do around the house, and for some reason it takes 10x longer than it should.*
Sharlene is chilling on a couch, drinking.
V is sitting on the roof.
Wolfe is playing her guitar to herself at a table while drinking.
Iralias is sitting on a low branch of a tree near the tavern, playing his guitar and humming to himself.
Yazrin is practicing on the dummies outside.
[Open Slot]
*Already got V in two different interactions right now, sooo...*
Wolfe stops to take a break, taking her drink outside.
Iralias notices her from his perch in the tree and smiles slightly. He continues playing and humming, not really caring if she hears or not; simply playing for the joy of it.
She climbs up to the roof, takes the final sip from her current bottle, and starts playing to herself on the roof.
He smiles a little more, but continues playing, not exactly trying to draw attention to himself, but not trying to hide either.
In another world, another plane, a figure disappears, leaving nothing but blood-slick earth and a steel tipped feather behind.
Entropy.
A person appears. An elf. She has bags beneath her eyes, long dark hair, and eyes as black as death. In her hand she clutches a staff.
The staff is a simple affair, an black iron rod topped by a crescent of sharp, polished black steel. It clicks quietly against the ground as its wielder moves slowly across the earth towards the tavern.
The elf stumbles halfway there, her hand flying up to a gash across her torso. It leaks black blood. She lifts the blood up, staring at it intently. The staff pulses with a dark mist, and the wound closes slightly.
Lowering her hand, she continues to close the gulf between her and the tavern.
Lysander waves to her. "You okay? Need help?"
"I am fine, Orakliir."
"I see... May I have a name?"
"I assume you do. Orakliir is merely the category for ones such as you: that is, ones who should, by the natural order, be dead."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Proud member of the Spider's Guild (y'all should join!)!
Join Cafe [Redacted], people! I play Treble in it. Isn't SCP stuff awesome?
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
In another world, another plane, a figure disappears, leaving nothing but blood-slick earth and a steel tipped feather behind.
Entropy.
A person appears. An elf. She has bags beneath her eyes, long dark hair, and eyes as black as death. In her hand she clutches a staff.
The staff is a simple affair, an black iron rod topped by a crescent of sharp, polished black steel. It clicks quietly against the ground as its wielder moves slowly across the earth towards the tavern.
The elf stumbles halfway there, her hand flying up to a gash across her torso. It leaks black blood. She lifts the blood up, staring at it intently. The staff pulses with a dark mist, and the wound closes slightly.
Lowering her hand, she continues to close the gulf between her and the tavern.
Thaemrys watches from next to a tree near the tavern. *is there any death or undeath with this character?*
*She radiates necromancy, but is not dead. Also, does Thaemrys have truesight?*
*No, just a feel for death in general, also meant to type The Reaper, even though Thaemrys is their name.*
They stare at the person, moving their head with the person's movements.
The elf stops moving. "Who are you?" She doesn't turn her head, but it seems she is watching.
"I should ask the same, along with what exactly do you do with the dead?"
"I am the killer, the one who ensures no one cheats death. I fought with Jergal, bled with Jergal, and was betrayed by Jergal. I am the Angel." The staff pulses.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Proud member of the Spider's Guild (y'all should join!)!
Join Cafe [Redacted], people! I play Treble in it. Isn't SCP stuff awesome?
In another world, another plane, a figure disappears, leaving nothing but blood-slick earth and a steel tipped feather behind.
Entropy.
A person appears. An elf. She has bags beneath her eyes, long dark hair, and eyes as black as death. In her hand she clutches a staff.
The staff is a simple affair, an black iron rod topped by a crescent of sharp, polished black steel. It clicks quietly against the ground as its wielder moves slowly across the earth towards the tavern.
The elf stumbles halfway there, her hand flying up to a gash across her torso. It leaks black blood. She lifts the blood up, staring at it intently. The staff pulses with a dark mist, and the wound closes slightly.
Lowering her hand, she continues to close the gulf between her and the tavern.
Thaemrys watches from next to a tree near the tavern. *is there any death or undeath with this character?*
*She radiates necromancy, but is not dead. Also, does Thaemrys have truesight?*
*No, just a feel for death in general, also meant to type The Reaper, even though Thaemrys is their name.*
They stare at the person, moving their head with the person's movements.
The elf stops moving. "Who are you?" She doesn't turn her head, but it seems she is watching.
"I should ask the same, along with what exactly do you do with the dead?"
"I am the killer, the one who ensures no one cheats death. I fought with Jergal, bled with Jergal, and was betrayed by Jergal. I am the Angel." The staff pulses.
They kneel, knowing they are below the one they talk to "I am a Reaper, one who ensures souls get to Fugue Plane, & devoted to Kelemvor."
In another world, another plane, a figure disappears, leaving nothing but blood-slick earth and a steel tipped feather behind.
Entropy.
A person appears. An elf. She has bags beneath her eyes, long dark hair, and eyes as black as death. In her hand she clutches a staff.
The staff is a simple affair, an black iron rod topped by a crescent of sharp, polished black steel. It clicks quietly against the ground as its wielder moves slowly across the earth towards the tavern.
The elf stumbles halfway there, her hand flying up to a gash across her torso. It leaks black blood. She lifts the blood up, staring at it intently. The staff pulses with a dark mist, and the wound closes slightly.
Lowering her hand, she continues to close the gulf between her and the tavern.
Thaemrys watches from next to a tree near the tavern. *is there any death or undeath with this character?*
*She radiates necromancy, but is not dead. Also, does Thaemrys have truesight?*
*No, just a feel for death in general, also meant to type The Reaper, even though Thaemrys is their name.*
They stare at the person, moving their head with the person's movements.
The elf stops moving. "Who are you?" She doesn't turn her head, but it seems she is watching.
"I should ask the same, along with what exactly do you do with the dead?"
"I am the killer, the one who ensures no one cheats death. I fought with Jergal, bled with Jergal, and was betrayed by Jergal. I am the Angel." The staff pulses.
They kneel, knowing they are below the one they talk to "I am a Reaper, one who ensures souls get to Fugue Plane, & devoted to Kelemvor."
The elf smiles bitterly. "I have no rank any longer. I merely try to complete the mission I was given, even though none know of me any longer."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Proud member of the Spider's Guild (y'all should join!)!
Join Cafe [Redacted], people! I play Treble in it. Isn't SCP stuff awesome?
In another world, another plane, a figure disappears, leaving nothing but blood-slick earth and a steel tipped feather behind.
Entropy.
A person appears. An elf. She has bags beneath her eyes, long dark hair, and eyes as black as death. In her hand she clutches a staff.
The staff is a simple affair, an black iron rod topped by a crescent of sharp, polished black steel. It clicks quietly against the ground as its wielder moves slowly across the earth towards the tavern.
The elf stumbles halfway there, her hand flying up to a gash across her torso. It leaks black blood. She lifts the blood up, staring at it intently. The staff pulses with a dark mist, and the wound closes slightly.
Lowering her hand, she continues to close the gulf between her and the tavern.
Lysander waves to her. "You okay? Need help?"
"I am fine, Orakliir."
"I see... May I have a name?"
"I assume you do. Orakliir is merely the category for ones such as you: that is, ones who should, by the natural order, be dead."
"And why have I been judged to be dead?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
*I just love it when theres something you have to randomly do around the house, and for some reason it takes 10x longer than it should.*
Sharlene is chilling on a couch, drinking.
V is sitting on the roof.
Wolfe is playing her guitar to herself at a table while drinking.
Iralias is sitting on a low branch of a tree near the tavern, playing his guitar and humming to himself.
Yazrin is practicing on the dummies outside.
[Open Slot]
*Already got V in two different interactions right now, sooo...*
Wolfe stops to take a break, taking her drink outside.
Iralias notices her from his perch in the tree and smiles slightly. He continues playing and humming, not really caring if she hears or not; simply playing for the joy of it.
She climbs up to the roof, takes the final sip from her current bottle, and starts playing to herself on the roof.
He smiles a little more, but continues playing, not exactly trying to draw attention to himself, but not trying to hide either.
Wolfe is basically doing the same, just in her way by playing this.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Want a place to roleplay in your spare time? Here:Lord'sRestInn
Please don't hide your imperfections, if one part is beautiful, it all is.
In another world, another plane, a figure disappears, leaving nothing but blood-slick earth and a steel tipped feather behind.
Entropy.
A person appears. An elf. She has bags beneath her eyes, long dark hair, and eyes as black as death. In her hand she clutches a staff.
The staff is a simple affair, an black iron rod topped by a crescent of sharp, polished black steel. It clicks quietly against the ground as its wielder moves slowly across the earth towards the tavern.
The elf stumbles halfway there, her hand flying up to a gash across her torso. It leaks black blood. She lifts the blood up, staring at it intently. The staff pulses with a dark mist, and the wound closes slightly.
Lowering her hand, she continues to close the gulf between her and the tavern.
Lysander waves to her. "You okay? Need help?"
"I am fine, Orakliir."
"I see... May I have a name?"
"I assume you do. Orakliir is merely the category for ones such as you: that is, ones who should, by the natural order, be dead."
"And why have I been judged to be dead?"
"By all rights you should be dead. You have died multiple times. But every time, a higher entity intervened... so you are not an Arvlandiir."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Proud member of the Spider's Guild (y'all should join!)!
Join Cafe [Redacted], people! I play Treble in it. Isn't SCP stuff awesome?
In another world, another plane, a figure disappears, leaving nothing but blood-slick earth and a steel tipped feather behind.
Entropy.
A person appears. An elf. She has bags beneath her eyes, long dark hair, and eyes as black as death. In her hand she clutches a staff.
The staff is a simple affair, an black iron rod topped by a crescent of sharp, polished black steel. It clicks quietly against the ground as its wielder moves slowly across the earth towards the tavern.
The elf stumbles halfway there, her hand flying up to a gash across her torso. It leaks black blood. She lifts the blood up, staring at it intently. The staff pulses with a dark mist, and the wound closes slightly.
Lowering her hand, she continues to close the gulf between her and the tavern.
Thaemrys watches from next to a tree near the tavern. *is there any death or undeath with this character?*
*She radiates necromancy, but is not dead. Also, does Thaemrys have truesight?*
*No, just a feel for death in general, also meant to type The Reaper, even though Thaemrys is their name.*
They stare at the person, moving their head with the person's movements.
The elf stops moving. "Who are you?" She doesn't turn her head, but it seems she is watching.
"I should ask the same, along with what exactly do you do with the dead?"
"I am the killer, the one who ensures no one cheats death. I fought with Jergal, bled with Jergal, and was betrayed by Jergal. I am the Angel." The staff pulses.
They kneel, knowing they are below the one they talk to "I am a Reaper, one who ensures souls get to Fugue Plane, & devoted to Kelemvor."
The elf smiles bitterly. "I have no rank any longer. I merely try to complete the mission I was given, even though none know of me any longer."
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
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He decides to lay low & observe. Stealth: 11
She/They/it
Keep in mind I'm in the UK so my time zone's GMT.
Definitely not an undead.
He smiles a little more, but continues playing, not exactly trying to draw attention to himself, but not trying to hide either.
*Normal, Demon Lord, and Nicely Dressed.*
"Nevermind. What'd you even ask me?"
Want a place to roleplay in your spare time? Here: Lord's Rest Inn
Please don't hide your imperfections, if one part is beautiful, it all is.
I don't like rp-heavy games, I LOVE them.
"I assume you do. Orakliir is merely the category for ones such as you: that is, ones who should, by the natural order, be dead."
Proud member of the Spider's Guild (y'all should join!)!
Join Cafe [Redacted], people! I play Treble in it. Isn't SCP stuff awesome?
Harry Potter stuff is cool.
Homebrew: The BloodBorn; GemBlade Soldiers; Soldier of The Silver Armies. (Comments, Improvements?)
Life is okay, but who knows how long that will last.
*Finch can't beat that.*
Finch winces and pours some water over where he touched the bullet.
Extended Sig (Now updated!)
(He/Him)
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
Yeah, just confused as to why a mini dragon is trying to land on me.
Want a place to roleplay in your spare time? Here: Lord's Rest Inn
Please don't hide your imperfections, if one part is beautiful, it all is.
I don't like rp-heavy games, I LOVE them.
Proud member of the Spider's Guild (y'all should join!)!
Join Cafe [Redacted], people! I play Treble in it. Isn't SCP stuff awesome?
Harry Potter stuff is cool.
Homebrew: The BloodBorn; GemBlade Soldiers; Soldier of The Silver Armies. (Comments, Improvements?)
Life is okay, but who knows how long that will last.
They kneel, knowing they are below the one they talk to "I am a Reaper, one who ensures souls get to Fugue Plane, & devoted to Kelemvor."
She/They/it
Keep in mind I'm in the UK so my time zone's GMT.
Definitely not an undead.
The elf smiles bitterly. "I have no rank any longer. I merely try to complete the mission I was given, even though none know of me any longer."
Proud member of the Spider's Guild (y'all should join!)!
Join Cafe [Redacted], people! I play Treble in it. Isn't SCP stuff awesome?
Harry Potter stuff is cool.
Homebrew: The BloodBorn; GemBlade Soldiers; Soldier of The Silver Armies. (Comments, Improvements?)
Life is okay, but who knows how long that will last.
*mm, plus five for proficiency does good.*
He starts trying to piece together about some things with Finch.
She/They/it
Keep in mind I'm in the UK so my time zone's GMT.
Definitely not an undead.
They like you. You look cool
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
"And why have I been judged to be dead?"
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
Wolfe is basically doing the same, just in her way by playing this.
Want a place to roleplay in your spare time? Here: Lord's Rest Inn
Please don't hide your imperfections, if one part is beautiful, it all is.
I don't like rp-heavy games, I LOVE them.
"By all rights you should be dead. You have died multiple times. But every time, a higher entity intervened... so you are not an Arvlandiir."
Proud member of the Spider's Guild (y'all should join!)!
Join Cafe [Redacted], people! I play Treble in it. Isn't SCP stuff awesome?
Harry Potter stuff is cool.
Homebrew: The BloodBorn; GemBlade Soldiers; Soldier of The Silver Armies. (Comments, Improvements?)
Life is okay, but who knows how long that will last.
*nice*
"How do you have wings?"
She/They/it
Keep in mind I'm in the UK so my time zone's GMT.
Definitely not an undead.
I'm flattered, but I'm really not in the mood for a mini dragon crawling all over me.
Want a place to roleplay in your spare time? Here: Lord's Rest Inn
Please don't hide your imperfections, if one part is beautiful, it all is.
I don't like rp-heavy games, I LOVE them.
"You tired?"
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
"I was born with them."
Want a place to roleplay in your spare time? Here: Lord's Rest Inn
Please don't hide your imperfections, if one part is beautiful, it all is.
I don't like rp-heavy games, I LOVE them.
They get up, "Could I get an explanation?"
She/They/it
Keep in mind I'm in the UK so my time zone's GMT.
Definitely not an undead.
Finch concentrates and counts his bullet wounds.
Extended Sig (Now updated!)
(He/Him)
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.