Another star has disappeared from the night sky- though, it will take a few weeks at least for the last of the ghostlight to fade and for anyone to notice. The ceaseless maw of oblivion has claimed another victim.
Helianth distills the essence of the once-glorious red giant into a container similar to that used to capture the raw energy of its first, and holds the power of a sun carefully in its roots as it goes to prepare it with the recipe it learned from Felix. It's pretty sure it marked down all the steps correctly, there's still some ingredients left over (just about enough to make a second celestial flan)... but it's feeling impatient. It took so much effort and time to make the first... and it's so terribly hungry... It looks down at the vessel of fiery wrath. Such power. Such brilliant radiance. It reminds it of that writhing, maddened flame it devoured back in the land of eternal autumn... Just once, it thinks. How bad could one raw star be?
The distilled red giant is consumed in just about a minute. Its flames burn ever brighter, veins of starlight crisscrossing its body. The taste is incredible... but so is the pain. That burning, writhing, stabbing pain as starlight punches holes in its stem and its leaves begin to turn to ash and tendrils of flame start to billow forth from its flower heads. It ate the live essence of a star- and that star wants to escape. It knows it doesn't have much time. If it were to return to Lord's Rest now, it would surely die, and bringing an entire star's worth of heat and light to a planet's surface would be... no, it can't do that.
Then, it has an idea. Not a good idea, but there's not enough time to think of anything better.
It lurches over to the 'medical ward' of the ship, the ship's organic and metallic surfaces beginning to burn and warp. It takes a series of tools from one shelf- horrible implements, designed to repair and regenerate the flesh of the Spelljammer, though it knows those healing capabilities apply to other organisms as well. It only hesitates for a second before it turns the tools upon itself. After a while, it's hard to distinguish where the ship ends and the crooked flower begins.
Others back at Lord's Point can feel something odd. An inexplicable sense of dread, and the feeling that something unseen has stirred from its slumber. Something wicked this way comes.
A new Elder Evil has been born. The stars cower in fear.
The teleportation circle leading to the Spelljammer is flickering faintly. It seems it has some difficulty maintaining a connection with the gate at the ship proper, but the reason is unclear.
Tim has clung to Helianth as long as he could before arriving back at the Inn. He has tried to visit the Spelljammer a multitude of times, but with the teleportation circle no longer functional, he is filled with immense worry. He sits in a the space the Spelljammer once occupied, curled up in a ball, space seems to warp around him as he rocks slightly. (Don’t know when I will make Tim a god, but I eventually will.)
*Good morning! How art thou today, friend?*
Each time he tries, it seems like the circle is close to activating, but loses the signal just before it can transport him. Some minor modifications might be enough to carry the signal the whole distance, but that's no guarantee. As he sits in the patch of flattened grass where the Spelljammer once sat outside Lord's Point, there is no sound other than the faint hissing of the grass in the wind. The sun seems just the faintest bit dimmer, though that's likely just a trick of the light.
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)
Another star has disappeared from the night sky- though, it will take a few weeks at least for the last of the ghostlight to fade and for anyone to notice. The ceaseless maw of oblivion has claimed another victim.
Helianth distills the essence of the once-glorious red giant into a container similar to that used to capture the raw energy of its first, and holds the power of a sun carefully in its roots as it goes to prepare it with the recipe it learned from Felix. It's pretty sure it marked down all the steps correctly, there's still some ingredients left over (just about enough to make a second celestial flan)... but it's feeling impatient. It took so much effort and time to make the first... and it's so terribly hungry... It looks down at the vessel of fiery wrath. Such power. Such brilliant radiance. It reminds it of that writhing, maddened flame it devoured back in the land of eternal autumn... Just once, it thinks. How bad could one raw star be?
The distilled red giant is consumed in just about a minute. Its flames burn ever brighter, veins of starlight crisscrossing its body. The taste is incredible... but so is the pain. That burning, writhing, stabbing pain as starlight punches holes in its stem and its leaves begin to turn to ash and tendrils of flame start to billow forth from its flower heads. It ate the live essence of a star- and that star wants to escape. It knows it doesn't have much time. If it were to return to Lord's Rest now, it would surely die, and bringing an entire star's worth of heat and light to a planet's surface would be... no, it can't do that.
Then, it has an idea. Not a good idea, but there's not enough time to think of anything better.
It lurches over to the 'medical ward' of the ship, the ship's organic and metallic surfaces beginning to burn and warp. It takes a series of tools from one shelf- horrible implements, designed to repair and regenerate the flesh of the Spelljammer, though it knows those healing capabilities apply to other organisms as well. It only hesitates for a second before it turns the tools upon itself. After a while, it's hard to distinguish where the ship ends and the crooked flower begins.
Others back at Lord's Point can feel something odd. An inexplicable sense of dread, and the feeling that something unseen has stirred from its slumber. Something wicked this way comes.
A new Elder Evil has been born. The stars cower in fear.
The teleportation circle leading to the Spelljammer is flickering faintly. It seems it has some difficulty maintaining a connection with the gate at the ship proper, but the reason is unclear.
The teleportation circle continues to flicker, maintaining its connection to the other one it is linked to, but struggling a bit. There's an odd presence that can faintly be felt leaking through.
Another star has disappeared from the night sky- though, it will take a few weeks at least for the last of the ghostlight to fade and for anyone to notice. The ceaseless maw of oblivion has claimed another victim.
Helianth distills the essence of the once-glorious red giant into a container similar to that used to capture the raw energy of its first, and holds the power of a sun carefully in its roots as it goes to prepare it with the recipe it learned from Felix. It's pretty sure it marked down all the steps correctly, there's still some ingredients left over (just about enough to make a second celestial flan)... but it's feeling impatient. It took so much effort and time to make the first... and it's so terribly hungry... It looks down at the vessel of fiery wrath. Such power. Such brilliant radiance. It reminds it of that writhing, maddened flame it devoured back in the land of eternal autumn... Just once, it thinks. How bad could one raw star be?
The distilled red giant is consumed in just about a minute. Its flames burn ever brighter, veins of starlight crisscrossing its body. The taste is incredible... but so is the pain. That burning, writhing, stabbing pain as starlight punches holes in its stem and its leaves begin to turn to ash and tendrils of flame start to billow forth from its flower heads. It ate the live essence of a star- and that star wants to escape. It knows it doesn't have much time. If it were to return to Lord's Rest now, it would surely die, and bringing an entire star's worth of heat and light to a planet's surface would be... no, it can't do that.
Then, it has an idea. Not a good idea, but there's not enough time to think of anything better.
It lurches over to the 'medical ward' of the ship, the ship's organic and metallic surfaces beginning to burn and warp. It takes a series of tools from one shelf- horrible implements, designed to repair and regenerate the flesh of the Spelljammer, though it knows those healing capabilities apply to other organisms as well. It only hesitates for a second before it turns the tools upon itself. After a while, it's hard to distinguish where the ship ends and the crooked flower begins.
Others back at Lord's Point can feel something odd. An inexplicable sense of dread, and the feeling that something unseen has stirred from its slumber. Something wicked this way comes.
A new Elder Evil has been born. The stars cower in fear.
The teleportation circle leading to the Spelljammer is flickering faintly. It seems it has some difficulty maintaining a connection with the gate at the ship proper, but the reason is unclear.
Tim has clung to Helianth as long as he could before arriving back at the Inn. He has tried to visit the Spelljammer a multitude of times, but with the teleportation circle no longer functional, he is filled with immense worry. He sits in a the space the Spelljammer once occupied, curled up in a ball, space seems to warp around him as he rocks slightly. (Don’t know when I will make Tim a god, but I eventually will.)
*Good morning! How art thou today, friend?*
Each time he tries, it seems like the circle is close to activating, but loses the signal just before it can transport him. Some minor modifications might be enough to carry the signal the whole distance, but that's no guarantee. As he sits in the patch of flattened grass where the Spelljammer once sat outside Lord's Point, there is no sound other than the faint hissing of the grass in the wind. The sun seems just the faintest bit dimmer, though that's likely just a trick of the light.
*I am doing wonderfully, and thou?*
He looks up to the sun, he looks back down after a moment of the light, the stars attempting to run reminding him of Helianth, not realizing the cause itself could be them. He closes his eyes, thinking of Helianth, and suddenly, he sees them. Helianth gets the intense feeling they are being watched, but who could be watching them in the infinite abyss of space?
Another star has disappeared from the night sky- though, it will take a few weeks at least for the last of the ghostlight to fade and for anyone to notice. The ceaseless maw of oblivion has claimed another victim.
Helianth distills the essence of the once-glorious red giant into a container similar to that used to capture the raw energy of its first, and holds the power of a sun carefully in its roots as it goes to prepare it with the recipe it learned from Felix. It's pretty sure it marked down all the steps correctly, there's still some ingredients left over (just about enough to make a second celestial flan)... but it's feeling impatient. It took so much effort and time to make the first... and it's so terribly hungry... It looks down at the vessel of fiery wrath. Such power. Such brilliant radiance. It reminds it of that writhing, maddened flame it devoured back in the land of eternal autumn... Just once, it thinks. How bad could one raw star be?
The distilled red giant is consumed in just about a minute. Its flames burn ever brighter, veins of starlight crisscrossing its body. The taste is incredible... but so is the pain. That burning, writhing, stabbing pain as starlight punches holes in its stem and its leaves begin to turn to ash and tendrils of flame start to billow forth from its flower heads. It ate the live essence of a star- and that star wants to escape. It knows it doesn't have much time. If it were to return to Lord's Rest now, it would surely die, and bringing an entire star's worth of heat and light to a planet's surface would be... no, it can't do that.
Then, it has an idea. Not a good idea, but there's not enough time to think of anything better.
It lurches over to the 'medical ward' of the ship, the ship's organic and metallic surfaces beginning to burn and warp. It takes a series of tools from one shelf- horrible implements, designed to repair and regenerate the flesh of the Spelljammer, though it knows those healing capabilities apply to other organisms as well. It only hesitates for a second before it turns the tools upon itself. After a while, it's hard to distinguish where the ship ends and the crooked flower begins.
Others back at Lord's Point can feel something odd. An inexplicable sense of dread, and the feeling that something unseen has stirred from its slumber. Something wicked this way comes.
A new Elder Evil has been born. The stars cower in fear.
The teleportation circle leading to the Spelljammer is flickering faintly. It seems it has some difficulty maintaining a connection with the gate at the ship proper, but the reason is unclear.
The teleportation circle continues to flicker, maintaining its connection to the other one it is linked to, but struggling a bit. There's an odd presence that can faintly be felt leaking through.
Chef Grumble looks at what is happening, very confused
Hyacinth walks into the Inn and noticed Jack, waving
The doctor would look over to them, if they had a face, which it seems they do not.
He looks up from petting Max to see them, smiling and waving back.
Chef Grumble stares "You good...?"
She walks over "Hello"
It tilts its head, before lips tear open on the smooth face, with sharp teeth, and a soothing voice, “I am wonderful, dear.”
He leans back up, “Hello, good to see you again, how are you?” (You might want to add more descriptions or more talkative, make your characters seem more lively in how they do things, create an image in your mind as well as the mind of the person you’re rping with. Just a bit of advice, idk)
Another star has disappeared from the night sky- though, it will take a few weeks at least for the last of the ghostlight to fade and for anyone to notice. The ceaseless maw of oblivion has claimed another victim.
Helianth distills the essence of the once-glorious red giant into a container similar to that used to capture the raw energy of its first, and holds the power of a sun carefully in its roots as it goes to prepare it with the recipe it learned from Felix. It's pretty sure it marked down all the steps correctly, there's still some ingredients left over (just about enough to make a second celestial flan)... but it's feeling impatient. It took so much effort and time to make the first... and it's so terribly hungry... It looks down at the vessel of fiery wrath. Such power. Such brilliant radiance. It reminds it of that writhing, maddened flame it devoured back in the land of eternal autumn... Just once, it thinks. How bad could one raw star be?
The distilled red giant is consumed in just about a minute. Its flames burn ever brighter, veins of starlight crisscrossing its body. The taste is incredible... but so is the pain. That burning, writhing, stabbing pain as starlight punches holes in its stem and its leaves begin to turn to ash and tendrils of flame start to billow forth from its flower heads. It ate the live essence of a star- and that star wants to escape. It knows it doesn't have much time. If it were to return to Lord's Rest now, it would surely die, and bringing an entire star's worth of heat and light to a planet's surface would be... no, it can't do that.
Then, it has an idea. Not a good idea, but there's not enough time to think of anything better.
It lurches over to the 'medical ward' of the ship, the ship's organic and metallic surfaces beginning to burn and warp. It takes a series of tools from one shelf- horrible implements, designed to repair and regenerate the flesh of the Spelljammer, though it knows those healing capabilities apply to other organisms as well. It only hesitates for a second before it turns the tools upon itself. After a while, it's hard to distinguish where the ship ends and the crooked flower begins.
Others back at Lord's Point can feel something odd. An inexplicable sense of dread, and the feeling that something unseen has stirred from its slumber. Something wicked this way comes.
A new Elder Evil has been born. The stars cower in fear.
The teleportation circle leading to the Spelljammer is flickering faintly. It seems it has some difficulty maintaining a connection with the gate at the ship proper, but the reason is unclear.
*Hello, sister! Happy Valentine's Day!*
Felix, sensing his friend's distress, comes back to Lord's Point and enters the Spelljammer almost immediately. He seems exhausted, having sprinted the entire way here. Strugels are not built for marathons.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Another star has disappeared from the night sky- though, it will take a few weeks at least for the last of the ghostlight to fade and for anyone to notice. The ceaseless maw of oblivion has claimed another victim.
Helianth distills the essence of the once-glorious red giant into a container similar to that used to capture the raw energy of its first, and holds the power of a sun carefully in its roots as it goes to prepare it with the recipe it learned from Felix. It's pretty sure it marked down all the steps correctly, there's still some ingredients left over (just about enough to make a second celestial flan)... but it's feeling impatient. It took so much effort and time to make the first... and it's so terribly hungry... It looks down at the vessel of fiery wrath. Such power. Such brilliant radiance. It reminds it of that writhing, maddened flame it devoured back in the land of eternal autumn... Just once, it thinks. How bad could one raw star be?
The distilled red giant is consumed in just about a minute. Its flames burn ever brighter, veins of starlight crisscrossing its body. The taste is incredible... but so is the pain. That burning, writhing, stabbing pain as starlight punches holes in its stem and its leaves begin to turn to ash and tendrils of flame start to billow forth from its flower heads. It ate the live essence of a star- and that star wants to escape. It knows it doesn't have much time. If it were to return to Lord's Rest now, it would surely die, and bringing an entire star's worth of heat and light to a planet's surface would be... no, it can't do that.
Then, it has an idea. Not a good idea, but there's not enough time to think of anything better.
It lurches over to the 'medical ward' of the ship, the ship's organic and metallic surfaces beginning to burn and warp. It takes a series of tools from one shelf- horrible implements, designed to repair and regenerate the flesh of the Spelljammer, though it knows those healing capabilities apply to other organisms as well. It only hesitates for a second before it turns the tools upon itself. After a while, it's hard to distinguish where the ship ends and the crooked flower begins.
Others back at Lord's Point can feel something odd. An inexplicable sense of dread, and the feeling that something unseen has stirred from its slumber. Something wicked this way comes.
A new Elder Evil has been born. The stars cower in fear.
The teleportation circle leading to the Spelljammer is flickering faintly. It seems it has some difficulty maintaining a connection with the gate at the ship proper, but the reason is unclear.
Tim has clung to Helianth as long as he could before arriving back at the Inn. He has tried to visit the Spelljammer a multitude of times, but with the teleportation circle no longer functional, he is filled with immense worry. He sits in a the space the Spelljammer once occupied, curled up in a ball, space seems to warp around him as he rocks slightly. (Don’t know when I will make Tim a god, but I eventually will.)
*Good morning! How art thou today, friend?*
Each time he tries, it seems like the circle is close to activating, but loses the signal just before it can transport him. Some minor modifications might be enough to carry the signal the whole distance, but that's no guarantee. As he sits in the patch of flattened grass where the Spelljammer once sat outside Lord's Point, there is no sound other than the faint hissing of the grass in the wind. The sun seems just the faintest bit dimmer, though that's likely just a trick of the light.
*I am doing wonderfully, and thou?*
He looks up to the sun, he looks back down after a moment of the light, the stars attempting to run reminding him of Helianth, not realizing the cause itself could be them. He closes his eyes, thinking of Helianth, and suddenly, he sees them. Helianth gets the intense feeling they are being watched, but who could be watching them in the infinite abyss of space?
*I am doing wonderfully as well! Good to hear you're faring well! :D*
Tim can see inside the Spelljammer, in one room of the ship, and what they see is horrifying. Flesh and metal and desiccated plant matter all meshing together, so intertwined into each other that it's nearly impossible to tell where one ends and another begins. It is fused to the floor by a myriad of wires and veins and roots, all coalescing into a single crooked stem that is vaguely picsine in form, bristling with thorns and bone splinters and metal barbs. Its top and bottom halves are not connected, each one ending in a branching growth that wraps around a gleaming star-like light at the being's core, cradling the radiance as if it were two hands. Its upper half has innumerable tendrils of flesh and root reaching out, each one fused to the walls of the chamber, and each one bearing one or more 'sunflowers'- rings of this intertwined matter with crooked spokes and petals extending all around, with spheres of nothing but utter darkness at each one's center. The largest of Helianth's heads looks slightly upwards in the general direction of where Tim is watching them from.
Chef Grumble looks at what is happening, very confused
Hyacinth walks into the Inn and noticed Jack, waving
The doctor would look over to them, if they had a face, which it seems they do not.
He looks up from petting Max to see them, smiling and waving back.
Chef Grumble stares "You good...?"
She walks over "Hello"
It tilts its head, before lips tear open on the smooth face, with sharp teeth, and a soothing voice, “I am wonderful, dear.”
He leans back up, “Hello, good to see you again, how are you?” (You might want to add more descriptions or more talkative, make your characters seem more lively in how they do things, create an image in your mind as well as the mind of the person you’re rping with. Just a bit of advice, idk)
His eyes start to twitch, as he starts trying to say something, but words don't come out. Just some gibberish
She smiles wide "I'm good, you?" She replies calmly
Another star has disappeared from the night sky- though, it will take a few weeks at least for the last of the ghostlight to fade and for anyone to notice. The ceaseless maw of oblivion has claimed another victim.
Helianth distills the essence of the once-glorious red giant into a container similar to that used to capture the raw energy of its first, and holds the power of a sun carefully in its roots as it goes to prepare it with the recipe it learned from Felix. It's pretty sure it marked down all the steps correctly, there's still some ingredients left over (just about enough to make a second celestial flan)... but it's feeling impatient. It took so much effort and time to make the first... and it's so terribly hungry... It looks down at the vessel of fiery wrath. Such power. Such brilliant radiance. It reminds it of that writhing, maddened flame it devoured back in the land of eternal autumn... Just once, it thinks. How bad could one raw star be?
The distilled red giant is consumed in just about a minute. Its flames burn ever brighter, veins of starlight crisscrossing its body. The taste is incredible... but so is the pain. That burning, writhing, stabbing pain as starlight punches holes in its stem and its leaves begin to turn to ash and tendrils of flame start to billow forth from its flower heads. It ate the live essence of a star- and that star wants to escape. It knows it doesn't have much time. If it were to return to Lord's Rest now, it would surely die, and bringing an entire star's worth of heat and light to a planet's surface would be... no, it can't do that.
Then, it has an idea. Not a good idea, but there's not enough time to think of anything better.
It lurches over to the 'medical ward' of the ship, the ship's organic and metallic surfaces beginning to burn and warp. It takes a series of tools from one shelf- horrible implements, designed to repair and regenerate the flesh of the Spelljammer, though it knows those healing capabilities apply to other organisms as well. It only hesitates for a second before it turns the tools upon itself. After a while, it's hard to distinguish where the ship ends and the crooked flower begins.
Others back at Lord's Point can feel something odd. An inexplicable sense of dread, and the feeling that something unseen has stirred from its slumber. Something wicked this way comes.
A new Elder Evil has been born. The stars cower in fear.
The teleportation circle leading to the Spelljammer is flickering faintly. It seems it has some difficulty maintaining a connection with the gate at the ship proper, but the reason is unclear.
Tim has clung to Helianth as long as he could before arriving back at the Inn. He has tried to visit the Spelljammer a multitude of times, but with the teleportation circle no longer functional, he is filled with immense worry. He sits in a the space the Spelljammer once occupied, curled up in a ball, space seems to warp around him as he rocks slightly. (Don’t know when I will make Tim a god, but I eventually will.)
*Good morning! How art thou today, friend?*
Each time he tries, it seems like the circle is close to activating, but loses the signal just before it can transport him. Some minor modifications might be enough to carry the signal the whole distance, but that's no guarantee. As he sits in the patch of flattened grass where the Spelljammer once sat outside Lord's Point, there is no sound other than the faint hissing of the grass in the wind. The sun seems just the faintest bit dimmer, though that's likely just a trick of the light.
*I am doing wonderfully, and thou?*
He looks up to the sun, he looks back down after a moment of the light, the stars attempting to run reminding him of Helianth, not realizing the cause itself could be them. He closes his eyes, thinking of Helianth, and suddenly, he sees them. Helianth gets the intense feeling they are being watched, but who could be watching them in the infinite abyss of space?
*I am doing wonderfully as well! Good to hear you're faring well! :D*
Tim can see inside the Spelljammer, in one room of the ship, and what they see is horrifying. Flesh and metal and desiccated plant matter all meshing together, so intertwined into each other that it's nearly impossible to tell where one ends and another begins. It is fused to the floor by a myriad of wires and veins and roots, all coalescing into a single crooked stem that is vaguely picsine in form, bristling with thorns and bone splinters and metal barbs. Its top and bottom halves are not connected, each one ending in a branching growth that wraps around a gleaming star-like light at the being's core, cradling the radiance as if it were two hands. Its upper half has innumerable tendrils of flesh and root reaching out, each one fused to the walls of the chamber, and each one bearing one or more 'sunflowers'- rings of this intertwined matter with crooked spokes and petals extending all around, with spheres of nothing but utter darkness at each one's center. The largest of Helianth's heads looks slightly upwards in the general direction of where Tim is watching them from.
"...Tim?.."
Tim more than anything, is confused as well as relieved. He runs over to attempt to hug Helianth, but phases right though, before looking back at them, somewhat understanding the situation, or at least a fraction of it. He’s trembling as he flickers in and out of existence in Helianth’s sight, Tim’s power ever growing to the point of becoming colossal simply by wanting to be somewhere “Y-yes… I’m… kinda here… are you okay Helianth?”
Chef Grumble looks at what is happening, very confused
Hyacinth walks into the Inn and noticed Jack, waving
The doctor would look over to them, if they had a face, which it seems they do not.
He looks up from petting Max to see them, smiling and waving back.
Chef Grumble stares "You good...?"
She walks over "Hello"
It tilts its head, before lips tear open on the smooth face, with sharp teeth, and a soothing voice, “I am wonderful, dear.”
He leans back up, “Hello, good to see you again, how are you?” (You might want to add more descriptions or more talkative, make your characters seem more lively in how they do things, create an image in your mind as well as the mind of the person you’re rping with. Just a bit of advice, idk)
His eyes start to twitch, as he starts trying to say something, but words don't come out. Just some gibberish
She smiles wide "I'm good, you?" She replies calmly
*Absolutely fabulous, sorry if the advice seemed harsh, didn’t want it to be.*
It tilts its head, seemingly smiling at that, “How about you come over here and I’ll show you something.” It asks them.
He stands up, pulling out a chair for them to sit in, “I’m doing well, happy to hear you’re doing good.”
Chef Grumble looks at what is happening, very confused
Hyacinth walks into the Inn and noticed Jack, waving
The doctor would look over to them, if they had a face, which it seems they do not.
He looks up from petting Max to see them, smiling and waving back.
Chef Grumble stares "You good...?"
She walks over "Hello"
It tilts its head, before lips tear open on the smooth face, with sharp teeth, and a soothing voice, “I am wonderful, dear.”
He leans back up, “Hello, good to see you again, how are you?” (You might want to add more descriptions or more talkative, make your characters seem more lively in how they do things, create an image in your mind as well as the mind of the person you’re rping with. Just a bit of advice, idk)
His eyes start to twitch, as he starts trying to say something, but words don't come out. Just some gibberish
She smiles wide "I'm good, you?" She replies calmly
*Absolutely fabulous, sorry if the advice seemed harsh, didn’t want it to be.*
It tilts its head, seemingly smiling at that, “How about you come over here and I’ll show you something.” It asks them.
He stands up, pulling out a chair for them to sit in, “I’m doing well, happy to hear you’re doing good.”
*Nah It didn't seem harsh*
The Chef stares for a slight bit longer, than, with all of their muscle fibers twitching, they slowly walk over
Another star has disappeared from the night sky- though, it will take a few weeks at least for the last of the ghostlight to fade and for anyone to notice. The ceaseless maw of oblivion has claimed another victim.
Helianth distills the essence of the once-glorious red giant into a container similar to that used to capture the raw energy of its first, and holds the power of a sun carefully in its roots as it goes to prepare it with the recipe it learned from Felix. It's pretty sure it marked down all the steps correctly, there's still some ingredients left over (just about enough to make a second celestial flan)... but it's feeling impatient. It took so much effort and time to make the first... and it's so terribly hungry... It looks down at the vessel of fiery wrath. Such power. Such brilliant radiance. It reminds it of that writhing, maddened flame it devoured back in the land of eternal autumn... Just once, it thinks. How bad could one raw star be?
The distilled red giant is consumed in just about a minute. Its flames burn ever brighter, veins of starlight crisscrossing its body. The taste is incredible... but so is the pain. That burning, writhing, stabbing pain as starlight punches holes in its stem and its leaves begin to turn to ash and tendrils of flame start to billow forth from its flower heads. It ate the live essence of a star- and that star wants to escape. It knows it doesn't have much time. If it were to return to Lord's Rest now, it would surely die, and bringing an entire star's worth of heat and light to a planet's surface would be... no, it can't do that.
Then, it has an idea. Not a good idea, but there's not enough time to think of anything better.
It lurches over to the 'medical ward' of the ship, the ship's organic and metallic surfaces beginning to burn and warp. It takes a series of tools from one shelf- horrible implements, designed to repair and regenerate the flesh of the Spelljammer, though it knows those healing capabilities apply to other organisms as well. It only hesitates for a second before it turns the tools upon itself. After a while, it's hard to distinguish where the ship ends and the crooked flower begins.
Others back at Lord's Point can feel something odd. An inexplicable sense of dread, and the feeling that something unseen has stirred from its slumber. Something wicked this way comes.
A new Elder Evil has been born. The stars cower in fear.
The teleportation circle leading to the Spelljammer is flickering faintly. It seems it has some difficulty maintaining a connection with the gate at the ship proper, but the reason is unclear.
*Hello, sister! Happy Valentine's Day!*
Felix, sensing his friend's distress, comes back to Lord's Point and enters the Spelljammer almost immediately. He seems exhausted, having sprinted the entire way here. Strugels are not built for marathons.
*Happy Valentine's Day! How are you today, brother?*
The teleportation circle doesn't quite reach the Spelljammer, though seeing as he's the one who made the circle in the first place, it doesn't take much time for him to make the necessary repairs. Once he arrives, he can see branching roots and veins and wires growing all throughout the hall, all of them extending out from the ship's 'medical ward'. One of them bears a 'sunflower' made of a ring of the intertwined material, with crooked spokes of varying lengths all around its outside and a tiny sphere of pure void in its core. It looks over at Felix with equal joy and worry.
"...Felix, you're here..." he can hear it say. "...what do you think?.."
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)
Chef Grumble looks at what is happening, very confused
Hyacinth walks into the Inn and noticed Jack, waving
The doctor would look over to them, if they had a face, which it seems they do not.
He looks up from petting Max to see them, smiling and waving back.
Chef Grumble stares "You good...?"
She walks over "Hello"
It tilts its head, before lips tear open on the smooth face, with sharp teeth, and a soothing voice, “I am wonderful, dear.”
He leans back up, “Hello, good to see you again, how are you?” (You might want to add more descriptions or more talkative, make your characters seem more lively in how they do things, create an image in your mind as well as the mind of the person you’re rping with. Just a bit of advice, idk)
His eyes start to twitch, as he starts trying to say something, but words don't come out. Just some gibberish
She smiles wide "I'm good, you?" She replies calmly
*Absolutely fabulous, sorry if the advice seemed harsh, didn’t want it to be.*
It tilts its head, seemingly smiling at that, “How about you come over here and I’ll show you something.” It asks them.
He stands up, pulling out a chair for them to sit in, “I’m doing well, happy to hear you’re doing good.”
*Nah It didn't seem harsh*
The Chef stares for a slight bit longer, than, with all of their muscle fibers twitching, they slowly walk over
*Cool, didn’t want it to. Also ya forgot the other rp.*
It takes out a scalpel, putting it to the cheek of the unconscious person, in one swift motion they cut a small, perfectly circular hole in their cheek, handing them the flesh, with a sick smile.
"I... I think so." It replies, just happy he's here. It looks around at its new, terrifying form with an equal sense of pride and worry. "I'm... stronger than before. I know that much. And I can tell you've grown stronger too... are you okay, Tim?"
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)
"I... I think so." It replies, just happy he's here. It looks around at its new, terrifying form with an equal sense of pride and worry. "I'm... stronger than before. I know that much. And I can tell you've grown stronger too... are you okay, Tim?"
He rubs his hands, fidgeting with that nervousness that he originally had, sitting down on the ground of the ship, “I… don’t know… papa’s dead… and now I feel… like I can do so much… how am I even here?” He asks to no one at all, just, lost in his own mind, in his own fears.
Felix, sensing his friend's distress, comes back to Lord's Point and enters the Spelljammer almost immediately. He seems exhausted, having sprinted the entire way here. Strugels are not built for marathons.
*Happy Valentine's Day! How are you today, brother?*
The teleportation circle doesn't quite reach the Spelljammer, though seeing as he's the one who made the circle in the first place, it doesn't take much time for him to make the necessary repairs. Once he arrives, he can see branching roots and veins and wires growing all throughout the hall, all of them extending out from the ship's 'medical ward'. One of them bears a 'sunflower' made of a ring of the intertwined material, with crooked spokes of varying lengths all around its outside and a tiny sphere of pure void in its core. It looks over at Felix with equal joy and worry.
"...Felix, you're here..." he can hear it say. "...what do you think?.."
He reaches out and gently touches one of the flowers, feeling its petals and spokes. He seems to be at a loss for words, but after a bit of struggling, he chooses to sing instead.
"You grew up just like Holy Mary, Helianthus, Helianth my dear... Your beauty never ever scared me, Helianthus, you've nothing to fear..."
He hugs the flower gently, not touching the void sphere within.
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
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*Good morning! How art thou today, friend?*
Each time he tries, it seems like the circle is close to activating, but loses the signal just before it can transport him. Some minor modifications might be enough to carry the signal the whole distance, but that's no guarantee. As he sits in the patch of flattened grass where the Spelljammer once sat outside Lord's Point, there is no sound other than the faint hissing of the grass in the wind. The sun seems just the faintest bit dimmer, though that's likely just a trick of the light.
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)
Chef Grumble stares "You good...?"
She walks over "Hello"
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
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 feel the need to make a dragon that has a lot of kobolds, that are basically like annoying siblings that they have to parent*
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
*01100111 01101111 01101111 01100100 00100000 01100001 01110011 00100000 01110111 01100101 01101100 01101100 00100000 00111010 01000100*
There is just barely a whisper- a faint trace of telepathy, also struggling with its signal. "...I... am trying... signal... faint...."
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)
*I am doing wonderfully, and thou?*
He looks up to the sun, he looks back down after a moment of the light, the stars attempting to run reminding him of Helianth, not realizing the cause itself could be them. He closes his eyes, thinking of Helianth, and suddenly, he sees them. Helianth gets the intense feeling they are being watched, but who could be watching them in the infinite abyss of space?
*54 68 61 74 27 73 20 67 6F 6F 64 20 3A 33*
He pushes his own telepathy in "What?..."
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
It tilts its head, before lips tear open on the smooth face, with sharp teeth, and a soothing voice, “I am wonderful, dear.”
He leans back up, “Hello, good to see you again, how are you?” (You might want to add more descriptions or more talkative, make your characters seem more lively in how they do things, create an image in your mind as well as the mind of the person you’re rping with. Just a bit of advice, idk)
*Hello, sister! Happy Valentine's Day!*
Felix, sensing his friend's distress, comes back to Lord's Point and enters the Spelljammer almost immediately. He seems exhausted, having sprinted the entire way here. Strugels are not built for marathons.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I'm very proud of Helianth right now. It did what it set out to do.*
*However... is this a negative character arc in the making, or has it already been resolved?*
*I fear for its safety.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I am doing wonderfully as well! Good to hear you're faring well! :D*
Tim can see inside the Spelljammer, in one room of the ship, and what they see is horrifying. Flesh and metal and desiccated plant matter all meshing together, so intertwined into each other that it's nearly impossible to tell where one ends and another begins. It is fused to the floor by a myriad of wires and veins and roots, all coalescing into a single crooked stem that is vaguely picsine in form, bristling with thorns and bone splinters and metal barbs. Its top and bottom halves are not connected, each one ending in a branching growth that wraps around a gleaming star-like light at the being's core, cradling the radiance as if it were two hands. Its upper half has innumerable tendrils of flesh and root reaching out, each one fused to the walls of the chamber, and each one bearing one or more 'sunflowers'- rings of this intertwined matter with crooked spokes and petals extending all around, with spheres of nothing but utter darkness at each one's center. The largest of Helianth's heads looks slightly upwards in the general direction of where Tim is watching them from.
"...Tim?.."
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)
His eyes start to twitch, as he starts trying to say something, but words don't come out. Just some gibberish
She smiles wide "I'm good, you?" She replies calmly
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
*Should I?*
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
Tim more than anything, is confused as well as relieved. He runs over to attempt to hug Helianth, but phases right though, before looking back at them, somewhat understanding the situation, or at least a fraction of it. He’s trembling as he flickers in and out of existence in Helianth’s sight, Tim’s power ever growing to the point of becoming colossal simply by wanting to be somewhere “Y-yes… I’m… kinda here… are you okay Helianth?”
*Absolutely fabulous, sorry if the advice seemed harsh, didn’t want it to be.*
It tilts its head, seemingly smiling at that, “How about you come over here and I’ll show you something.” It asks them.
He stands up, pulling out a chair for them to sit in, “I’m doing well, happy to hear you’re doing good.”
*Nah It didn't seem harsh*
The Chef stares for a slight bit longer, than, with all of their muscle fibers twitching, they slowly walk over
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
*Happy Valentine's Day! How are you today, brother?*
The teleportation circle doesn't quite reach the Spelljammer, though seeing as he's the one who made the circle in the first place, it doesn't take much time for him to make the necessary repairs. Once he arrives, he can see branching roots and veins and wires growing all throughout the hall, all of them extending out from the ship's 'medical ward'. One of them bears a 'sunflower' made of a ring of the intertwined material, with crooked spokes of varying lengths all around its outside and a tiny sphere of pure void in its core. It looks over at Felix with equal joy and worry.
"...Felix, you're here..." he can hear it say. "...what do you think?.."
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)
*Cool, didn’t want it to. Also ya forgot the other rp.*
It takes out a scalpel, putting it to the cheek of the unconscious person, in one swift motion they cut a small, perfectly circular hole in their cheek, handing them the flesh, with a sick smile.
*Cut for Tim and Helianth*
"I... I think so." It replies, just happy he's here. It looks around at its new, terrifying form with an equal sense of pride and worry. "I'm... stronger than before. I know that much. And I can tell you've grown stronger too... are you okay, Tim?"
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 rubs his hands, fidgeting with that nervousness that he originally had, sitting down on the ground of the ship, “I… don’t know… papa’s dead… and now I feel… like I can do so much… how am I even here?” He asks to no one at all, just, lost in his own mind, in his own fears.
He reaches out and gently touches one of the flowers, feeling its petals and spokes. He seems to be at a loss for words, but after a bit of struggling, he chooses to sing instead.
"You grew up just like Holy Mary,
Helianthus, Helianth my dear...
Your beauty never ever scared me,
Helianthus, you've nothing to fear..."
He hugs the flower gently, not touching the void sphere within.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.