"You make good points. Plus, the Xanathar might think I'm usin' their secrets." He thinks, then smiles. "It's easy as pie. You squirt syrup in the cup and put in the fizzy water. Anyone can mix em' up, and you're more than just anyone. But if you wanna help, you'll have to cool off a bit. We serve floats cold, so fire powers or magic or psionics or whatever that is wouldn't be especially useful. Maybe you'll find a use for em'. Maybe makin' the syrups. I can teach you to do that, too."
“I could make Caramel. I’d be happy to help you, you’re my friend, even if I’m… serious, as I’ve been described.” He stands up, patting them on the head as if he were giving them a hug “I’ll try to keep the fire to a minimum.” The flames extinguish on his mop, his eyes glow dimming.
"You make friends quickly for a 'serious' mug. I like that. Caramel toppin' is good." He picks up his blackboard before realizing it has deep gashes in it. "Ah. Forgot about that. Eh, I'll be able to get a new one with your help." He drops it to the side and pulls a notepad from his coat. "So, what kinda sweets do ya like? I wanna make a flavor for ya."
Loriche is working on a really excessive greatsword that looks like something out of a Webtoons manhwa.
Speaking of something out of a Webtoon Manhwa, Mark is walking through the forest. He’s an Aasimar, fit and about average height, he carries two great swords, one concealed within one of the greatest sheaths Loriche would have ever seen, the hilt the only part visible.
*oh god*
Loriche can't really hear much over the sound of her forging, but she does notice him upon looking up, and waves.
*What?*
He waves back to them with a nervous smile, adjusting his glasses as he walks over, not having anything better to do.
She sets the press on top of the mold and takes a step back, exhaling. "Hiya!"
“Hey, nice to meet you… sir?” He says nervously, not sure if they are a sir or a ma’am or an anything.
“Ah, just call Loriche. Who’re you?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"You make good points. Plus, the Xanathar might think I'm usin' their secrets." He thinks, then smiles. "It's easy as pie. You squirt syrup in the cup and put in the fizzy water. Anyone can mix em' up, and you're more than just anyone. But if you wanna help, you'll have to cool off a bit. We serve floats cold, so fire powers or magic or psionics or whatever that is wouldn't be especially useful. Maybe you'll find a use for em'. Maybe makin' the syrups. I can teach you to do that, too."
“I could make Caramel. I’d be happy to help you, you’re my friend, even if I’m… serious, as I’ve been described.” He stands up, patting them on the head as if he were giving them a hug “I’ll try to keep the fire to a minimum.” The flames extinguish on his mop, his eyes glow dimming.
"You make friends quickly for a 'serious' mug. I like that. Caramel toppin' is good." He picks up his blackboard before realizing it has deep gashes in it. "Ah. Forgot about that. Eh, I'll be able to get a new one with your help." He drops it to the side and pulls a notepad from his coat. "So, what kinda sweets do ya like? I wanna make a flavor for ya."
“I’m not a fan of sweet, but my little sisters like spicy chocolates.” He says, cracking his neck and beginning to walk, dragging their cart with him, “Where do you want this to be? I wasn’t always good at ‘making friends’. Almost was killed by someone who taught me a lot a few months ago, I’ve been trying to improve myself and reflect ever since.”
He lets go and walks over to the machinery, lifting up a metal mask that looks like a crude facsimile of Jack's face. "Robot cooker. I make them in the likenesses of everyone I meet. I can even give them similar abilities. I was an engineer long before I was a Nightmare."
"So, should I be flattered?" he asks, tilting his head to look at his rough doppelganger.
"Not yet." He places the black, heat-resistant face over Jack's. "Is it tight? You should be able to wear it like a suit of armor if I want you to."
Loriche is working on a really excessive greatsword that looks like something out of a Webtoons manhwa.
Speaking of something out of a Webtoon Manhwa, Mark is walking through the forest. He’s an Aasimar, fit and about average height, he carries two great swords, one concealed within one of the greatest sheaths Loriche would have ever seen, the hilt the only part visible.
*oh god*
Loriche can't really hear much over the sound of her forging, but she does notice him upon looking up, and waves.
*What?*
He waves back to them with a nervous smile, adjusting his glasses as he walks over, not having anything better to do.
She sets the press on top of the mold and takes a step back, exhaling. "Hiya!"
“Hey, nice to meet you… sir?” He says nervously, not sure if they are a sir or a ma’am or an anything.
“Ah, just call Loriche. Who’re you?”
“Okay. Loriche.” He says like he’s trying to remember his own name “I’m… Mark. Hero of Zanithia, apparently.”
Loriche is working on a really excessive greatsword that looks like something out of a Webtoons manhwa.
Speaking of something out of a Webtoon Manhwa, Mark is walking through the forest. He’s an Aasimar, fit and about average height, he carries two great swords, one concealed within one of the greatest sheaths Loriche would have ever seen, the hilt the only part visible.
*oh god*
Loriche can't really hear much over the sound of her forging, but she does notice him upon looking up, and waves.
*What?*
He waves back to them with a nervous smile, adjusting his glasses as he walks over, not having anything better to do.
She sets the press on top of the mold and takes a step back, exhaling. "Hiya!"
“Hey, nice to meet you… sir?” He says nervously, not sure if they are a sir or a ma’am or an anything.
“Ah, just call Loriche. Who’re you?”
“Okay. Loriche.” He says like he’s trying to remember his own name “I’m… Mark. Hero of Zanithia, apparently.”
“Where now?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"You make friends quickly for a 'serious' mug. I like that. Caramel toppin' is good." He picks up his blackboard before realizing it has deep gashes in it. "Ah. Forgot about that. Eh, I'll be able to get a new one with your help." He drops it to the side and pulls a notepad from his coat. "So, what kinda sweets do ya like? I wanna make a flavor for ya."
“I’m not a fan of sweet, but my little sisters like spicy chocolates.” He says, cracking his neck and beginning to walk, dragging their cart with him, “Where do you want this to be? I wasn’t always good at ‘making friends’. Almost was killed by someone who taught me a lot a few months ago, I’ve been trying to improve myself and reflect ever since.”
Aldo pulls out a map with several locations marked on it, with multiple potential escape routes marked at each stop. "I've got it all planned out. So, how about a... Gnarly Hot Chocolate flavored ice cream? Spicy and chocolatey! Or maybe a pepper soda and chocolate ice cream float, that could work... the Shinmon Special! What do you think?"
"Not yet." He places the black, heat-resistant face over Jack's. "Is it tight? You should be able to wear it like a suit of armor if I want you to."
"it's a little loose around the edges, sweetheart." he says, peering through the mask and into Pod's face.
Instead of a massively overgrown strugel's face, he sees a mass of golden eyes staring back, sitting in a vague memory of a small, homey inn. When the mask is removed, he looks normal again, as does the beautiful hotel. He begins to measure Jack's face with a tape measure.
"You make friends quickly for a 'serious' mug. I like that. Caramel toppin' is good." He picks up his blackboard before realizing it has deep gashes in it. "Ah. Forgot about that. Eh, I'll be able to get a new one with your help." He drops it to the side and pulls a notepad from his coat. "So, what kinda sweets do ya like? I wanna make a flavor for ya."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
“Ah, just call Loriche. Who’re you?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
“I’m not a fan of sweet, but my little sisters like spicy chocolates.” He says, cracking his neck and beginning to walk, dragging their cart with him, “Where do you want this to be? I wasn’t always good at ‘making friends’. Almost was killed by someone who taught me a lot a few months ago, I’ve been trying to improve myself and reflect ever since.”
"Not yet." He places the black, heat-resistant face over Jack's. "Is it tight? You should be able to wear it like a suit of armor if I want you to."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
“Okay. Loriche.” He says like he’s trying to remember his own name “I’m… Mark. Hero of Zanithia, apparently.”
"Oh, really? And what's it gonna cost me?" He doesn't sound interested.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
“Where now?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Cut for Salem.*
“You could go to the Inn, I would buy you a room.” She says, walking out in her black tight leather.
She clings tightly to them, using her real affection for them as an illusion for love for the mayor. She walks with them.
He laughs nervously a little bit “You’re right, I guess.” He says, putting down his whetstone nearby.
“Zanithia. Far from here.”
“Nothing that you’re not willing to give. And nothing that would leave you in shambles.” Rio shrugs.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Aldo pulls out a map with several locations marked on it, with multiple potential escape routes marked at each stop. "I've got it all planned out. So, how about a... Gnarly Hot Chocolate flavored ice cream? Spicy and chocolatey! Or maybe a pepper soda and chocolate ice cream float, that could work... the Shinmon Special! What do you think?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
“What’s it like?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*hey salem wanna rp?*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Instead of a massively overgrown strugel's face, he sees a mass of golden eyes staring back, sitting in a vague memory of a small, homey inn. When the mask is removed, he looks normal again, as does the beautiful hotel. He begins to measure Jack's face with a tape measure.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"That's not an answer. Beat it, creepazoid."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
“What, I can’t support small vendors and businesses?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.