The creature stops moving, blending in with the trees.
The sound stops when they do, though the kid continues to snore.
The creature looks around for the source of the noise.
If the creature turns around, they find, a Wendigo cloaked in shadow, only a bit smaller than them if you don't count the deer skull their skull is stuffed into, dripping blood at a constant rate. lanky and looking malnourished. The skull within the deer skull crushed by being inside.
The creature doesn't look startled, rumbling lowly.
The Wendigo's lips tear open, his mouth having been sealed before, some of the flesh still attached to itself as it makes a rumble of it's own.
It creaks, head tilting.
A whisper voice comes to them, not from the beast's mouth, yet perfectly understood, "What... Who... are... you..."
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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 creature stops moving, blending in with the trees.
The sound stops when they do, though the kid continues to snore.
The creature looks around for the source of the noise.
If the creature turns around, they find, a Wendigo cloaked in shadow, only a bit smaller than them if you don't count the deer skull their skull is stuffed into, dripping blood at a constant rate. lanky and looking malnourished. The skull within the deer skull crushed by being inside.
The creature doesn't look startled, rumbling lowly.
The Wendigo's lips tear open, his mouth having been sealed before, some of the flesh still attached to itself as it makes a rumble of it's own.
It creaks, head tilting.
A whisper voice comes to them, not from the beast's mouth, yet perfectly understood, "What... Who... are... you..."
"I...have...no...name..." it whispers, voice distorted.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The creature stops moving, blending in with the trees.
The sound stops when they do, though the kid continues to snore.
The creature looks around for the source of the noise.
If the creature turns around, they find, a Wendigo cloaked in shadow, only a bit smaller than them if you don't count the deer skull their skull is stuffed into, dripping blood at a constant rate. lanky and looking malnourished. The skull within the deer skull crushed by being inside.
The creature doesn't look startled, rumbling lowly.
The Wendigo's lips tear open, his mouth having been sealed before, some of the flesh still attached to itself as it makes a rumble of it's own.
It creaks, head tilting.
A whisper voice comes to them, not from the beast's mouth, yet perfectly understood, "What... Who... are... you..."
"I...have...no...name..." it whispers, voice distorted.
"Then... why... what... do... you... want...?" It rasps back at them, (Just two monsters having a chat.)
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.'
*Anybody want to rp while I'm still here? If not it's all good.*
*I'd love to rp, if you want! Any particular character you'd like?*
*Of course I want to, though I don't have a preference, do you?*
*Neither do I- I'd love to interact with whatever characters you'd like to use!*
Omori is sitting on a rock in the woods, still thinking about that feeling of inexplicable dread that came out of the blue. 'It couldn't be...' she thinks to herself, before dismissively shaking her head, not wanting to even entertain that possibility.
There is a clearing in the forest- one that was not always there. Trees and stones, cut down and carved into jagged splinters by unbreakable, ferocious claws. The undergrowth, withered, the plants and the very soil bleached to a melancholy grey by a foul, infectious influence. The aftermath of a battle where neither combatant remained after- a betrayal's conclusion. Something stirs under the soil here. It's angry- so very angry- and it yearns for vengeance.
Merabelle has come to the clearing, feeling the forest hurting and being drawn to where it is. She is sitting, cross legged in front of the spot and trying to track down the cause through her magical senses.
She can sense the direction and the scale of the cause almost immediately- it's underneath the clearing. The entire clearing. Writhing underneath where she stands with a hatred so burning and intense... hatred for one thing... one person... She feels like she's being watched from every single dark corner of the surrounding woods. It speaks to Merabelle- not with any sound, but with a feeling that at the same time is both unintelligible and can be perfectly understood.
" . . . W h o a r e y o u ? . ." It asks, despite already knowing.
She remains calm, she hasn't dealt with anything of this scale before, but that will far from stop her from trying. She uses her nature as a druid to repel the corrupting force as much as she can "Merabelle, the black blood." She replies, her voice holding no fear.
Her magic does heal the soil around her, returning it to a more lively state... before it is swallowed again by the corruption, all the life and color bleached from it before her very eyes. The blight doesn't seem to be spreading to anywhere outside this clearing. The presence 'laughs' silently in response, taking delight in watching her attempt fail.
" H o w q u a i n t . . ." It starts in a mocking tone. " . . . I w o n ' t p e r i s h s o e a s i l y a g a i n . . ."
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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)
So spend your hours on What you think I've done wrong I know I'm in your mind I've been here way too long I want to spend my life With those who've done me right Your heart is frozen over I'm a four-leaf clover
Her magic does heal the soil around her, returning it to a more lively state... before it is swallowed again by the corruption, all the life and color bleached from it before her very eyes. The blight doesn't seem to be spreading to anywhere outside this clearing. The presence 'laughs' silently in response, taking delight in watching her attempt fail.
" H o w q u a i n t . . ." It starts in a mocking tone. " . . . I w o n ' t p e r i s h s o e a s i l y a g a i n . . ."
"Don't think I'm beat just cause ya got the jump on me." She pushes out more and more power, not to heal the land around her, but to reach deeper into the soil, reaching out to the source of the corruption "Any druid worth their salt knows that no good tree gives bad fruit, I'll just cut ya off at the roots." She says with a smile, focusing harder and harder.
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 shadows of the trees standing at the clearing's edges all turn inwards towards that central point, not caring for the laws of light as they stretch and writhe to meet where the darkness is strongest. The soil shifts even more, cracking open in places.
" . . . I n o l o n g e r c a r e f o r h a v i n g a p h y s i c a l v e s s e l . . . I s h a l l n o t r e p e a t m y g r e a t e s t f o l l y . . ."
"I cannot see you, Ancient one...but I sense you are very powerful." he says, bowing slightly.
" . . . A r e y o u b l i n d , G e n e r a l ? . . L o o k a r o u n d y o u . . ."
The shadows all touch at that rotting grave, congealing and twisting into themselves- into a pool of utter lightless oblivion. The General's own shadow twists into a new shape- the shadow of a person in long flowing robes, with writhing tendrils around their head, that stares back up at him with a faceless expression.
" . . . O r p e r h a p s , I c a n m a k e y o u s e e . . . M a k e y o u s e e . . . E V E R Y T H I N G . . . "
He bows even deeper, clearly afraid.
The face of the Seer's shadow splits open into a wide, jagged grin. They are not just aware of the General's fear- they are reveling in it. The writhing branches of the trees' shadows seep up from the ground as tendrils of inky black oblivion, beginning to surround him.
" . . . W h a t ' s t h e m a t t e r ? . . D o y o u n o t w a n t s u c h a b l e s s i n g ? . ."
The air grows darker as the General screams and is killed. A 9-foot eldtrich horror lurks closer to them, holding the dead general in its clawed hand, holding it out like a cat returning from a kill.
*Would you like this creature's intro?*
" . . . A p i t y . . . T h a t o n e w o u l d h a v e m a d e a g o o d t h r a l l . . ."
The shadow that was once the General's still remains, gliding silently over to the other horror, that grin still on their face.
" . . . W h a t b u s i n e s s h a v e y o u h e r e , k i n d r e d ? . ."
The creature lays the body onto the rot, bowing. "Feast....hungry...forever starving..." it whispers, its voice slightly distorted.
"P o t e n t i a l p u p p e t s a r e o f f - l i m i t s. . ." It responds- a flat statement, not a suggestion. ". . . Y o u c a n h a v e a l l t h e r e s t . . . U n d e r s t o o d ? . ."
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 creature lays the body onto the rot, bowing. "Feast....hungry...forever starving..." it whispers, its voice slightly distorted.
"P o t e n t i a l p u p p e t s a r e o f f - l i m i t s. . ." It responds- a flat statement, not a suggestion. ". . . Y o u c a n h a v e a l l t h e r e s t . . . U n d e r s t o o d ? . ."
"Yess..." it hisses, bowing lower
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Her magic does heal the soil around her, returning it to a more lively state... before it is swallowed again by the corruption, all the life and color bleached from it before her very eyes. The blight doesn't seem to be spreading to anywhere outside this clearing. The presence 'laughs' silently in response, taking delight in watching her attempt fail.
" H o w q u a i n t . . ." It starts in a mocking tone. " . . . I w o n ' t p e r i s h s o e a s i l y a g a i n . . ."
"Don't think I'm beat just cause ya got the jump on me." She pushes out more and more power, not to heal the land around her, but to reach deeper into the soil, reaching out to the source of the corruption "Any druid worth their salt knows that no good tree gives bad fruit, I'll just cut ya off at the roots." She says with a smile, focusing harder and harder.
The soil within the clearing is disturbed and split open in places as the inner heart of the corruption- a concentrated mass of pure hatred and shadow within the clearing's center- is assailed by her healing power. An equal amount of aberrant power is released to counter her attempt, not trying to regain ground, but rather preserve its core.
". . . W i l l y o u s t o p t h a t ? . ." It responds, sounding more annoyed than anything. ". . . I ' m n o t h e r e f o r y o u r o h - s o - p r e c i o u s f o r e s t . . ."
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)
A whisper voice comes to them, not from the beast's mouth, yet perfectly understood, "What... Who... are... you..."
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.)
"I...have...no...name..." it whispers, voice distorted.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"Then... why... what... do... you... want...?" It rasps back at them, (Just two monsters having a chat.)
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.)
Her magic does heal the soil around her, returning it to a more lively state... before it is swallowed again by the corruption, all the life and color bleached from it before her very eyes. The blight doesn't seem to be spreading to anywhere outside this clearing. The presence 'laughs' silently in response, taking delight in watching her attempt fail.
" H o w q u a i n t . . ." It starts in a mocking tone. " . . . I w o n ' t p e r i s h s o e a s i l y a g a i n . . ."
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)
"Hunger....eternal hunger..."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
(you open Yvonne)
So spend your hours on
What you think I've done wrong
I know I'm in your mind
I've been here way too long
I want to spend my life
With those who've done me right
Your heart is frozen over
I'm a four-leaf clover
"Don't think I'm beat just cause ya got the jump on me." She pushes out more and more power, not to heal the land around her, but to reach deeper into the soil, reaching out to the source of the corruption "Any druid worth their salt knows that no good tree gives bad fruit, I'll just cut ya off at the roots." She says with a smile, focusing harder and harder.
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.)
"P o t e n t i a l p u p p e t s a r e o f f - l i m i t s. . ." It responds- a flat statement, not a suggestion. ". . . Y o u c a n h a v e a l l t h e r e s t . . . U n d e r s t o o d ? . ."
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 tilts his head, a sickening crunch coming with it "Eat... elsewhere..."
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.)
"Yess..." it hisses, bowing lower
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
It smiles, showing off its sharp teeth. "You...cannot...boss me..."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
It gives a gurgling laugh, blood dripping out of it's mouth "Want... to see?"
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.)
“…me too.”
“Probably not.” Riotan produces a small tome from seemingly nowhere and hands it to John.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
It snarls, the Wendigo's vison dimming. "I was alive when you were barely formed..."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“Got it.” She runs over to her shelves. “Do yall need weapons too?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
They shake their head. "No. We have some."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The soil within the clearing is disturbed and split open in places as the inner heart of the corruption- a concentrated mass of pure hatred and shadow within the clearing's center- is assailed by her healing power. An equal amount of aberrant power is released to counter her attempt, not trying to regain ground, but rather preserve its core.
". . . W i l l y o u s t o p t h a t ? . ." It responds, sounding more annoyed than anything. ". . . I ' m n o t h e r e f o r y o u r o h - s o - p r e c i o u s f o r e s t . . ."
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)
"False... I... am... ancient..." It smiles at them, raising a finger to point at the sleeping boy "He... more than... us both..."
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.)
"And i was alive when the ancients were forming." it hisses. "The boy is old, that I will admit.."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
She sighs "Are you sure? You keep pausing before you say stuff like that."
He takes the tome, looking closely at it before opening it to look at what is within.
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.)