The children with animal masks have fled the Doctor's clutches. The one with a rabbit mask leads the other three. The one with a sheep mask holding the hands of the deer and harpy masked ones.
Chef Grumble turns to the children, confused
The kids are shaking with fear, hunger, and exhaustion. They look up at the Chef.
He happens to have a bit more of his honey roasted phase spider, perfectly spiced "Ya kids good? Ya can 'ave this"
The children with animal masks have fled the Doctor's clutches. The one with a rabbit mask leads the other three. The one with a sheep mask holding the hands of the deer and harpy masked ones.
Chef Grumble turns to the children, confused
The kids are shaking with fear, hunger, and exhaustion. They look up at the Chef.
He happens to have a bit more of his honey roasted phase spider, perfectly spiced "Ya kids good? Ya can 'ave this"
The kids slowly approach, their mouths visible under the mask. The girl with the bunny mask holds out her hands, asking if she can have it
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.
Azeral is back in town, which cannot mean anything good. The Angel of Death is currently watching a house burn down, people inside screaming in pain that is quickly drowned out by the crackling flames. He is the Judge, the Jury, but mostly the Executioner. He stands behind a young man who stares at the flames with no expression on his face. With a single swift flick of his blade, Azeral cut off their head, it falling to the ground alongside the body.
Bishop is wandering around town, humming as he picks out some ingredients for a soup he plans to make. People seem to give him a wide berth, giving him nervous glances as they have heard tales of what exactly the Marrow Folk do to those they dislike. Bishop doesn't seem to notice, too busy trying to find a perfect potato in a stack of them.
Stroth is holding what appears to be a solid cube of metal, sitting in the library. One second, it is solid, the next it turns to gas, the third second? a liquid. Suddenly, it turns back into a solid. He chuckles, stubbing out a cigarette between his fingers out on a desk beside him.
Azeral is back in town, which cannot mean anything good. The Angel of Death is currently watching a house burn down, people inside screaming in pain that is quickly drowned out by the crackling flames. He is the Judge, the Jury, but mostly the Executioner. He stands behind a young man who stares at the flames with no expression on his face. With a single swift flick of his blade, Azeral cut off their head, it falling to the ground alongside the body.
Bishop is wandering around town, humming as he picks out some ingredients for a soup he plans to make. People seem to give him a wide berth, giving him nervous glances as they have heard tales of what exactly the Marrow Folk do to those they dislike. Bishop doesn't seem to notice, too busy trying to find a perfect potato in a stack of them.
Stroth is holding what appears to be a solid cube of metal, sitting in the library. One second, it is solid, the next it turns to gas, the third second? a liquid. Suddenly, it turns back into a solid. He chuckles, stubbing out a cigarette between his fingers out on a desk beside him.
Gravedigger sighs when he sees the house burning and walks over
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
Oh, my weary soul We've met your kind before Set fire to us all And oh sweet Providence Come save us from ourselves From Hell and consequence
*I do not know who I want, sorry. Do you have a preference?*
*Uh can I have James, John Dungeon, and someone else?*
*And those you will have.*
James is still preparing, and has been for the past few days. He still doesn't know his vows, but practically everything else is finished. He's sitting outside of the Inn.
John is polishing his plate armor back to a shine, the blood and clay speckled on it being taken off, slowly but steadily as he sits in the Inn.
The devil with flaming feet, four arms, and strange eyes, is standing in front of the burning building. He leans against a flaming mop, his tired eyes looking curiously.
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.'
Azeral is back in town, which cannot mean anything good. The Angel of Death is currently watching a house burn down, people inside screaming in pain that is quickly drowned out by the crackling flames. He is the Judge, the Jury, but mostly the Executioner. He stands behind a young man who stares at the flames with no expression on his face. With a single swift flick of his blade, Azeral cut off their head, it falling to the ground alongside the body.
Bishop is wandering around town, humming as he picks out some ingredients for a soup he plans to make. People seem to give him a wide berth, giving him nervous glances as they have heard tales of what exactly the Marrow Folk do to those they dislike. Bishop doesn't seem to notice, too busy trying to find a perfect potato in a stack of them.
Stroth is holding what appears to be a solid cube of metal, sitting in the library. One second, it is solid, the next it turns to gas, the third second? a liquid. Suddenly, it turns back into a solid. He chuckles, stubbing out a cigarette between his fingers out on a desk beside him.
Gravedigger sighs when he sees the house burning and walks over
Azeral throws the body into the flames and places the head of the young man into the shadowy folds of his cloak. He turns his attention to Gravedigger, nodding.
Azeral is back in town, which cannot mean anything good. The Angel of Death is currently watching a house burn down, people inside screaming in pain that is quickly drowned out by the crackling flames. He is the Judge, the Jury, but mostly the Executioner. He stands behind a young man who stares at the flames with no expression on his face. With a single swift flick of his blade, Azeral cut off their head, it falling to the ground alongside the body.
Bishop is wandering around town, humming as he picks out some ingredients for a soup he plans to make. People seem to give him a wide berth, giving him nervous glances as they have heard tales of what exactly the Marrow Folk do to those they dislike. Bishop doesn't seem to notice, too busy trying to find a perfect potato in a stack of them.
Stroth is holding what appears to be a solid cube of metal, sitting in the library. One second, it is solid, the next it turns to gas, the third second? a liquid. Suddenly, it turns back into a solid. He chuckles, stubbing out a cigarette between his fingers out on a desk beside him.
Four children, two girls (who wear a rabbit and sheep mask) and two boys (who wear a deer and harpy mask) watch him from behind a bookcase.
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.
Azeral is back in town, which cannot mean anything good. The Angel of Death is currently watching a house burn down, people inside screaming in pain that is quickly drowned out by the crackling flames. He is the Judge, the Jury, but mostly the Executioner. He stands behind a young man who stares at the flames with no expression on his face. With a single swift flick of his blade, Azeral cut off their head, it falling to the ground alongside the body.
Bishop is wandering around town, humming as he picks out some ingredients for a soup he plans to make. People seem to give him a wide berth, giving him nervous glances as they have heard tales of what exactly the Marrow Folk do to those they dislike. Bishop doesn't seem to notice, too busy trying to find a perfect potato in a stack of them.
Stroth is holding what appears to be a solid cube of metal, sitting in the library. One second, it is solid, the next it turns to gas, the third second? a liquid. Suddenly, it turns back into a solid. He chuckles, stubbing out a cigarette between his fingers out on a desk beside him.
Four children, two girls (who wear a rabbit and sheep mask) and two boys (who wear a deer and harpy mask) watch him from behind a bookcase.
"If you want to watch, do it somewhere it won't make you seem suspicious." He says, chuckling.
Azeral is back in town, which cannot mean anything good. The Angel of Death is currently watching a house burn down, people inside screaming in pain that is quickly drowned out by the crackling flames. He is the Judge, the Jury, but mostly the Executioner. He stands behind a young man who stares at the flames with no expression on his face. With a single swift flick of his blade, Azeral cut off their head, it falling to the ground alongside the body.
Bishop is wandering around town, humming as he picks out some ingredients for a soup he plans to make. People seem to give him a wide berth, giving him nervous glances as they have heard tales of what exactly the Marrow Folk do to those they dislike. Bishop doesn't seem to notice, too busy trying to find a perfect potato in a stack of them.
Stroth is holding what appears to be a solid cube of metal, sitting in the library. One second, it is solid, the next it turns to gas, the third second? a liquid. Suddenly, it turns back into a solid. He chuckles, stubbing out a cigarette between his fingers out on a desk beside him.
Gravedigger sighs when he sees the house burning and walks over
Azeral throws the body into the flames and places the head of the young man into the shadowy folds of his cloak. He turns his attention to Gravedigger, nodding.
He nods back "what was the crime?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
Oh, my weary soul We've met your kind before Set fire to us all And oh sweet Providence Come save us from ourselves From Hell and consequence
*Uh can I have James, John Dungeon, and someone else?*
*And those you will have.*
James is still preparing, and has been for the past few days. He still doesn't know his vows, but practically everything else is finished. He's sitting outside of the Inn.
John is polishing his plate armor back to a shine, the blood and clay speckled on it being taken off, slowly but steadily as he sits in the Inn.
The devil with flaming feet, four arms, and strange eyes, is standing in front of the burning building. He leans against a flaming mop, his tired eyes looking curiously.
Cherry walks over to him, smiling. Her cloths are messy and covered in buttercream, and cake batter
Rei is wandering around outside the inn, not noticing John
*Uh can I have James, John Dungeon, and someone else?*
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Salem has dubbed me Fellow Pancake of The Fox.
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
He happens to have a bit more of his honey roasted phase spider, perfectly spiced "Ya kids good? Ya can 'ave this"
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Salem has dubbed me Fellow Pancake of The Fox.
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
The kids slowly approach, their mouths visible under the mask. The girl with the bunny mask holds out her hands, asking if she can have it
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
(you open Theren?)
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
Oh, my weary soul
We've met your kind before
Set fire to us all
And oh sweet Providence
Come save us from ourselves
From Hell and consequence
He gives her the phase spider, although half of it was already cut off
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Salem has dubbed me Fellow Pancake of The Fox.
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
She shares with her siblings and they devour it
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Eventually, she does pull back, although reluctantly. She smiles at them.
She's barely able to keep them held, holding onto them "Please, I don't want ta fight ya." She pleads, looking at them run.
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.)
Azeral is back in town, which cannot mean anything good. The Angel of Death is currently watching a house burn down, people inside screaming in pain that is quickly drowned out by the crackling flames. He is the Judge, the Jury, but mostly the Executioner. He stands behind a young man who stares at the flames with no expression on his face. With a single swift flick of his blade, Azeral cut off their head, it falling to the ground alongside the body.
Bishop is wandering around town, humming as he picks out some ingredients for a soup he plans to make. People seem to give him a wide berth, giving him nervous glances as they have heard tales of what exactly the Marrow Folk do to those they dislike. Bishop doesn't seem to notice, too busy trying to find a perfect potato in a stack of them.
Stroth is holding what appears to be a solid cube of metal, sitting in the library. One second, it is solid, the next it turns to gas, the third second? a liquid. Suddenly, it turns back into a solid. He chuckles, stubbing out a cigarette between his fingers out on a desk beside him.
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
The chef smiles as the children eat it
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Salem has dubbed me Fellow Pancake of The Fox.
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
Gravedigger sighs when he sees the house burning and walks over
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
Oh, my weary soul
We've met your kind before
Set fire to us all
And oh sweet Providence
Come save us from ourselves
From Hell and consequence
He smiles her lipstick still on his lips. He then gently boops her nose.
It shrieks right in her ear, slicing at her.
Attack: 10 Damage: 30
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*And those you will have.*
James is still preparing, and has been for the past few days. He still doesn't know his vows, but practically everything else is finished. He's sitting outside of the Inn.
John is polishing his plate armor back to a shine, the blood and clay speckled on it being taken off, slowly but steadily as he sits in the Inn.
The devil with flaming feet, four arms, and strange eyes, is standing in front of the burning building. He leans against a flaming mop, his tired eyes looking curiously.
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.)
Azeral throws the body into the flames and places the head of the young man into the shadowy folds of his cloak. He turns his attention to Gravedigger, nodding.
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
Four children, two girls (who wear a rabbit and sheep mask) and two boys (who wear a deer and harpy mask) watch him from behind a bookcase.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
the children sit down infront of the chef
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
She smiles back at them, stretching her arms "Would you like anything else, my love?"
She dodges the attack, holding them, "I ain't gonna fight back." (Also, they are grappled, so attacks are with disadvantage.)
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.)
"If you want to watch, do it somewhere it won't make you seem suspicious." He says, chuckling.
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
He nods back "what was the crime?"
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
Oh, my weary soul
We've met your kind before
Set fire to us all
And oh sweet Providence
Come save us from ourselves
From Hell and consequence
Cherry walks over to him, smiling. Her cloths are messy and covered in buttercream, and cake batter
Rei is wandering around outside the inn, not noticing John
Cherry stares at the devil, confused
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Salem has dubbed me Fellow Pancake of The Fox.
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
"I..ah..i dont think so." he mumbles.
*ah right, my bad*
It shrieks louder.
Attack: 23 Damage: 19
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.