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?"
"The fire was not my doing. It was his." He gestures to the charred body of the young man "Eye for an eye, now his soul rots in hell."
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.
the two boys cower behind their sisters when he speaks. The one with the sheep mask inaudibly comforts them while the one with the rabbit mask carefully approaches him
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.
the two boys cower behind their sisters when he speaks. The one with the sheep mask inaudibly comforts them while the one with the rabbit mask carefully approaches him
Stroth hums as he sets the cube aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees.
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?"
"The fire was not my doing. It was his." He gestures to the charred body of the young man "Eye for an eye, now his soul rots in hell."
"as it should be"
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
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.
the two boys cower behind their sisters when he speaks. The one with the sheep mask inaudibly comforts them while the one with the rabbit mask carefully approaches him
Stroth hums as he sets the cube aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees.
She tilts her head at him, reaching out to touch his nose
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.
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?"
"The fire was not my doing. It was his." He gestures to the charred body of the young man "Eye for an eye, now his soul rots in hell."
"as it should be"
Azeral sniffs the air and narrows his eyes "I know your smell.. The smell of death, of bone.."
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.
the two boys cower behind their sisters when he speaks. The one with the sheep mask inaudibly comforts them while the one with the rabbit mask carefully approaches him
Stroth hums as he sets the cube aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees.
She tilts her head at him, reaching out to touch his nose
Stroth narrows his eyes and bares sharp teeth "No touching."
fellow follower of JEFF!!!! and a fan of BotW titles include:Beastmaster Extraordinaire,Wizened Beholder of the West Wind,Salvatore's Secret Archivist,Bladesong Smith
Co-cult leader of the cynophobia cult
Archivist of the kingdoms and Crowns thread, Percy Jackson thread, Mechanicus and Realm of Dragons,MDDTG,The Academy threads Admin of the Academy
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.
the two boys cower behind their sisters when he speaks. The one with the sheep mask inaudibly comforts them while the one with the rabbit mask carefully approaches him
Stroth hums as he sets the cube aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees.
She tilts her head at him, reaching out to touch his nose
Stroth narrows his eyes and bares sharp teeth "No touching."
She squeaks, yanking her hand back quickly.
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.
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?"
"The fire was not my doing. It was his." He gestures to the charred body of the young man "Eye for an eye, now his soul rots in hell."
"as it should be"
Azeral sniffs the air and narrows his eyes "I know your smell.. The smell of death, of bone.."
"I am not surprised. it is my job to bury the dead"
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
"The fire was not my doing. It was his." He gestures to the charred body of the young man "Eye for an eye, now his soul rots in hell."
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 two boys cower behind their sisters when he speaks. The one with the sheep mask inaudibly comforts them while the one with the rabbit mask carefully approaches him
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
James looks over them curiously "I assume you're making a cake? What are you celebrating?" He asks obliviously.
He doesn't notice them either, or at least not for a whole, looking up and smiling. He makes a slightly grunt.
The devil seems to fall, though he suddenly stops, laying on the air, turning to them "Oh hey there, honoring the dead too?"
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.)
Stroth hums as he sets the cube aside and leans forward, elbows on his knees.
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
"as it should be"
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
"Ey kids, ya good?" He looks to the kids
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 rubs their cheeks "If you say so, I'm going to go for a run."
The attack hits her, but she doesn't let go, bleeding more than before "Calm down... momma's here."
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.)
She tilts her head at him, reaching out to touch his nose
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
They shake their heads in unison.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Azeral sniffs the air and narrows his eyes "I know your smell.. The smell of death, of bone.."
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
Stroth narrows his eyes and bares sharp teeth "No touching."
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. "Kay, im gonna go for a soak in the hot spring." he says, grabbing a towel and a change of clothes.
It doesn't calm down, instead becoming more reckless in its anger
STR: 14
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*I may have made something absolutely stupid https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/141188210/hntxUu*
fellow follower of JEFF!!!! and a fan of BotW titles include:Beastmaster Extraordinaire,Wizened Beholder of the West Wind,Salvatore's Secret Archivist,Bladesong Smith
Co-cult leader of the cynophobia cult
Archivist of the kingdoms and Crowns thread, Percy Jackson thread, Mechanicus and Realm of Dragons,MDDTG,The Academy threads Admin of the Academy
PM me the word avocado :P
Extended sig
She squeaks, yanking her hand back quickly.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"I think I might join you once I'm done." She gives them a kiss on the cheek before running out.
She continues to hold onto them, tight as she can, though not trying to hurt them. Grapple:29
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.)
"Well, I just got a bit of ingredients, worked on it a bit" She stretches "What kinda cake do you want for our wedding?"
She than notices him "Hello"
She looks around "Oh. People died here? Poor them" She seems to actually care, despite being a famous assassin
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.
Leo goes to soak in the hot spring, sighing as he relaxes.
The Doctor sighs. "Shame. You lived so much longer than the others Experiment 1." he then presses a button as 1 starts to glow. *Make a dex save*
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"I am not surprised. it is my job to bury the dead"
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 is it a 'yes' nod, or a 'no' nod?*
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.
*Its a no.*
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.