*I would love to rp with any of thine characters!*
Felix is trying to set up a big smoker, but is having difficulty digging out the icy soil.
Helianth ambles over through the snow, curious about what he's working on. "Would you like some help with that?"
He drops the normal-sized shovel and wipes his brow, nodding. He walks over to a nearby worktable he dragged all the way out here and picks up the plans, showing them to Helianth. "This will help me cure meats myself instead of relying on suppliers who might not carry what I need."
*may I join? Bookwyrm is kinda bored, so he wants to help wherever he can! He knows a few fire spells*
*I see no issue with it!*
Bookwyrm steps over, asking "Can I help? You seem to be struggling with the ic soil. I could warm it up a smidge, making it easier to dig into." He demonstrates with casting a firebolt at the nearby ground. He accidentally sets a bush on fire, and frantically stomps it out. He turns, sheepishly asking "Could you pretend you didn't see that?"
He drops the normal-sized shovel and wipes his brow, nodding. He walks over to a nearby worktable he dragged all the way out here and picks up the plans, showing them to Helianth. "This will help me cure meats myself instead of relying on suppliers who might not carry what I need."
The crooked plant looks over the blueprints with keen interest, glancing between them and where the smoker will be. "Sounds like that'll be rather practical. Say, I think I forgot to ask- what's the dish you're most proud of making?" It inquires, burrowing its roots into the frozen earth and wrenching it from the land in large heaping root-fulls, which it tosses behind itself into a steadily growing pile.
He watches, thinking. (I like to imagine it spins its roots like augers to rend through the soil.) "That's a hard one. It would probably have to be one of my earliest dishes, back when I still felt like what I did was incredible. I made a really good mug of spicy, fruity hot chocolate when I was twelve. I think that might have been it. I was so excited about it that I shared it with my family, so I barely got more than a few sips myself. When I tried to recreate it, my formulas were just slightly off..."
Felix places a mug of hot chocolate on the desk next to Georgie and sits down on a nearby beanbag, reading a book on folklore.
"H-hm? oh, hello?" He looks up,
"Hey. I heard your mom left for a while, and I wanted to make sure you weren't alone. George, right? That's what the tavernfolk said your name was when they gossipped."
Bookwyrm steps over, asking "Can I help? You seem to be struggling with the ic soil. I could warm it up a smidge, making it easier to dig into." He demonstrates with casting a firebolt at the nearby ground. He accidentally sets a bush on fire, and frantically stomps it out. He turns, sheepishly asking "Could you pretend you didn't see that?"
Felix nods. "That would be very helpful. Thank you for your offer." He holds out a paw. "I'm Felix."
*I should describe Felix: he's about the size and shape of a halfling (short and fat), and he looks something like a white ferret with purple markings and pink, spiraling eyes. He wears a chef's hat and light clothing due to his high levels of winter-proof fluffiness. He also has freckle-like markings on his cheek.*
He drops the normal-sized shovel and wipes his brow, nodding. He walks over to a nearby worktable he dragged all the way out here and picks up the plans, showing them to Helianth. "This will help me cure meats myself instead of relying on suppliers who might not carry what I need."
The crooked plant looks over the blueprints with keen interest, glancing between them and where the smoker will be. "Sounds like that'll be rather practical. Say, I think I forgot to ask- what's the dish you're most proud of making?" It inquires, burrowing its roots into the frozen earth and wrenching it from the land in large heaping root-fulls, which it tosses behind itself into a steadily growing pile.
He watches, thinking. (I like to imagine it spins its roots like augers to rend through the soil.) "That's a hard one. It would probably have to be one of my earliest dishes, back when I still felt like what I did was incredible. I made a really good mug of spicy, fruity hot chocolate when I was twelve. I think that might have been it. I was so excited about it that I shared it with my family, so I barely got more than a few sips myself. When I tried to recreate it, my formulas were just slightly off..."
"Ah, that sounds like it was lovely. I suppose it makes some sense that it's a dish with sentimental value. Anyone can lose the awe that what they do is incredible with enough time put into it, as incredible turns to impressive turns to typical, and it can be nice to reflect on those simpler times where even the smallest accomplishment would feel sublime- I suppose that makes it not that small after all. Nostalgia is a funny thing, is it not?" It continues to tear at the earth, its roots pulling the soil apart as though it were foam. There is a sort of ferocity to its movements as it rips apart the little section of the landscape, as though there were some barely-contained rage fueling it, but its demeanor is oddly calm and cheery in contrast.
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 watches, thinking. (I like to imagine it spins its roots like augers to rend through the soil.) "That's a hard one. It would probably have to be one of my earliest dishes, back when I still felt like what I did was incredible. I made a really good mug of spicy, fruity hot chocolate when I was twelve. I think that might have been it. I was so excited about it that I shared it with my family, so I barely got more than a few sips myself. When I tried to recreate it, my formulas were just slightly off..."
"Ah, that sounds like it was lovely. I suppose it makes some sense that it's a dish with sentimental value. Anyone can lose the awe that what they do is incredible with enough time put into it, as incredible turns to impressive turns to typical, and it can be nice to reflect on those simpler times where even the smallest accomplishment would feel sublime- I suppose that makes it not that small after all. Nostalgia is a funny thing, is it not?" It continues to tear at the earth, its roots pulling the soil apart as though it were foam. There is a sort of ferocity to its movements as it rips apart the little section of the landscape, as though there were some barely-contained rage fueling it, but its demeanor is oddly calm and cheery in contrast.
Felix nods, but looks a bit concerned. "Is something bothering you?"
He watches, thinking. (I like to imagine it spins its roots like augers to rend through the soil.) "That's a hard one. It would probably have to be one of my earliest dishes, back when I still felt like what I did was incredible. I made a really good mug of spicy, fruity hot chocolate when I was twelve. I think that might have been it. I was so excited about it that I shared it with my family, so I barely got more than a few sips myself. When I tried to recreate it, my formulas were just slightly off..."
"Ah, that sounds like it was lovely. I suppose it makes some sense that it's a dish with sentimental value. Anyone can lose the awe that what they do is incredible with enough time put into it, as incredible turns to impressive turns to typical, and it can be nice to reflect on those simpler times where even the smallest accomplishment would feel sublime- I suppose that makes it not that small after all. Nostalgia is a funny thing, is it not?" It continues to tear at the earth, its roots pulling the soil apart as though it were foam. There is a sort of ferocity to its movements as it rips apart the little section of the landscape, as though there were some barely-contained rage fueling it, but its demeanor is oddly calm and cheery in contrast.
Felix nods, but looks a bit concerned. "Is something bothering you?"
It looks a bit confused for a moment, still tearing at the earth. "What? No, I'm doing rather well. Thinking about how to get everything ready for capturing and absorbing the Sun, but nothing bothering me. Why do you ask?"
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)
*Sure, I'd love to. Which character(s) would you like?*
*Yay! Uh, I suppose any you are okay with!*
Omori is on the roof of the Inn, stargazing despite it not being night just yet. Her raven familiar, Amber, is looking for shiny objects that may be on said roof.
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 shrugs, sipping from it
"I know right! We never got these sorta things at the monastery"
Bookwyrm steps over, asking "Can I help? You seem to be struggling with the ic soil. I could warm it up a smidge, making it easier to dig into." He demonstrates with casting a firebolt at the nearby ground. He accidentally sets a bush on fire, and frantically stomps it out. He turns, sheepishly asking "Could you pretend you didn't see that?"
Dragons, kobolds, and draconic things everywhere!
He watches, thinking. (I like to imagine it spins its roots like augers to rend through the soil.) "That's a hard one. It would probably have to be one of my earliest dishes, back when I still felt like what I did was incredible. I made a really good mug of spicy, fruity hot chocolate when I was twelve. I think that might have been it. I was so excited about it that I shared it with my family, so I barely got more than a few sips myself. When I tried to recreate it, my formulas were just slightly off..."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Scott then ties back his hair and chuckles "Sorry about that.. not used to having to wake up."
"Huh, never thought bout that before."
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Hey. I heard your mom left for a while, and I wanted to make sure you weren't alone. George, right? That's what the tavernfolk said your name was when they gossipped."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Well i'm glad you got some sleep" he smiles, patting the seat beside him
'Yeah, we were kinda cut off from... well everything" he says, setting the magnet back amongst the other little trinkets
Felix nods. "That would be very helpful. Thank you for your offer." He holds out a paw. "I'm Felix."
*I should describe Felix: he's about the size and shape of a halfling (short and fat), and he looks something like a white ferret with purple markings and pink, spiraling eyes. He wears a chef's hat and light clothing due to his high levels of winter-proof fluffiness. He also has freckle-like markings on his cheek.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Would anyone else care to RP perhaps as well?*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Scott sits down and leans on Tycho "Thanks."
"Forced or by free will"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Tycho hums, putting an arm around him, "No problem"
"Well, it was part of our tenents. 'One should not fly too close to the sun, lest they burn in it's purpose'" he recites
He orders himself some tea, herbal variety.
"Huh, something of a religious group?"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Ah, that sounds like it was lovely. I suppose it makes some sense that it's a dish with sentimental value. Anyone can lose the awe that what they do is incredible with enough time put into it, as incredible turns to impressive turns to typical, and it can be nice to reflect on those simpler times where even the smallest accomplishment would feel sublime- I suppose that makes it not that small after all. Nostalgia is a funny thing, is it not?" It continues to tear at the earth, its roots pulling the soil apart as though it were foam. There is a sort of ferocity to its movements as it rips apart the little section of the landscape, as though there were some barely-contained rage fueling it, but its demeanor is oddly calm and cheery in contrast.
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)
Tycho sticks with his coffee, "So, got any plans for the day?"
"We were a monestary. Not fully a religious thing, but yeah."
*Sure, I'd love to. Which character(s) would you like?*
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)
Felix nods, but looks a bit concerned. "Is something bothering you?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
It looks a bit confused for a moment, still tearing at the earth. "What? No, I'm doing rather well. Thinking about how to get everything ready for capturing and absorbing the Sun, but nothing bothering me. Why do you ask?"
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 shakes his head "Not really."
"Hm, like a monk?'
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Yay! Uh, I suppose any you are okay with!*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Omori is on the roof of the Inn, stargazing despite it not being night just yet. Her raven familiar, Amber, is looking for shiny objects that may be on said roof.
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)
"well then dibs" he smiles
"Monk?" he tilts his head