*These guys are going to be kinda like orks from 40k if it was a nice world to live in. Wait, that's just Pathfinder's Goblins. Anyway, the Suidat are innovators who kind of just make things because they can. Think like giant redneck rock gnomes. They're also wicked tough, and can withstand their medieval medical care with ease. They are notoriously difficult to kill due to their strange relationship with death.*
*Their only real weakness is that the same culture that drives them to be clever and nice also teaches them to be super calm and casual, so when things get really stressful they often don't know how to react. It's not pretty when they're forced into a fight for their lives.*
*your ideas are awesome. Do you wanna rp or ya gonna get busy with these lil guys?*
*Big guys, actually, but I would like to RP. It'll only be for an hour, though.*
*I introduced a new character a while back. You might like them. He's a Punkadin.*
*Big guys, actually, but I would like to RP. It'll only be for an hour, though.*
*I introduced a new character a while back. You might like them. He's a Punkadin.*
*do you want anybody specific for said punkadin?*
*Nope! Go with who you think would work with the following:*
A lean, muscular man with pure white skin, black glasses, and a heavy puffer coat over his shoulders made of supple flesh skateboards into town, somehow maintaining balance and speed while playing the viol with his heavily bandaged hands and wearing heavy platform boots (the goth kind, but they're the same pastel pink as his coat). His white hair is flopped over his left eye, and a holy symbol hangs from around his neck, holding his coat on.
"ARMOR-CLAD FAAAAAITH! Noise fills the burning sky! They struggle to testify! Justice brings more corpses! A disappointing verdict torches!"
*Nope! Go with who you think would work with the following:*
A lean, muscular man with pure white skin, black glasses, and a heavy puffer coat over his shoulders made of supple flesh skateboards into town, somehow maintaining balance and speed while playing the viol with his heavily bandaged hands and wearing heavy platform boots (the goth kind, but they're the same pastel pink as his coat). His white hair is flopped over his left eye, and a holy symbol hangs from around his neck, holding his coat on.
"ARMOR-CLAD FAAAAAITH! Noise fills the burning sky! They struggle to testify! Justice brings more corpses! A disappointing verdict torches!"
*Punk meet punk*
He almost crashes into Mac, a hyena man. His fur is dark grey with lighter spots. He wears black combat boots, roughed up jeans and a crop top under a leather jacket. The tee is some faded band shirt.
"Hell yeah, awesome lyrics. you write them yourself?"
*if you're up to it, can I have Pod, as well?*
*Sure, why not?*
He does a kickflip and hits the edge of his skateboard so that it flies up before he catches it mid-air, putting his viol onto his back with his other hand. "Naw, man. I save my own songs for my shows. They're usually the lowest rated anyway. I can play like a boss, but I execute the songs better than I make em'." He holds out his now freed-up hand. "Snausage Stigmata."
Podmorski is sleeping on the couch in the inn. His tail flicks and his ears twitch every once in a while.
He does a kickflip and hits the edge of his skateboard so that it flies up before he catches it mid-air, putting his viol onto his back with his other hand. "Naw, man. I save my own songs for my shows. They're usually the lowest rated anyway. I can play like a boss, but I execute the songs better than I make em'." He holds out his now freed-up hand. "Snausage Stigmata."
Podmorski is sleeping on the couch in the inn. His tail flicks and his ears twitch every once in a while.
He chuckles, taking their hand. His arm is covered in scars, chunks of missing fur. "That's awesome, man. Name's Mac."
Jack knocks on the door, a couple of mugs of coffee in tow. "Pod? Buddy?"
He nods. "Cool name, brah. You look like you've been in a scrap or two. Heard this was a wild neighborhood, and I'm glad to see some confirmation." He smiles. "So, any rock joints 'round here?"
His eyes immediately open. He flicks a pudgy finger and the door opens. Jack is pulled inside, the telekinetic grasp keeping him from tripping or spilling the coffee.
*would anyone like to rp? :>*
*Cut for Salem.*
(After the second wedding? Split up into Clem and Lilac, Marie and Jax?)
“Have you been using your water magic more, love?” She asks curiously.
He chuckles with them, “I understand that, the only reason I can drink this much is my magical body.”
*I would have 621 but those won't all fit on my house. Or on my yard. Maybe if the old farm field is turned to a dragon den?*
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.
*Big guys, actually, but I would like to RP. It'll only be for an hour, though.*
*I introduced a new character a while back. You might like them. He's a Punkadin.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Bye frens! Kisses to y'all, and remember, stay roomba, eat RAM, let me cheese you, and be toaster!*
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.
*Nope! Go with who you think would work with the following:*
A lean, muscular man with pure white skin, black glasses, and a heavy puffer coat over his shoulders made of supple flesh skateboards into town, somehow maintaining balance and speed while playing the viol with his heavily bandaged hands and wearing heavy platform boots (the goth kind, but they're the same pastel pink as his coat). His white hair is flopped over his left eye, and a holy symbol hangs from around his neck, holding his coat on.
"ARMOR-CLAD FAAAAAITH!
Noise fills the burning sky!
They struggle to testify!
Justice brings more corpses!
A disappointing verdict torches!"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Clem has happily turned into a smaller form, making himself easier to carry for her, rubbing against her.
Marie walks up behind them, wrapping her arms around them, “Let me help you dear.”
“You were amazing already, leaving me behind when it comes to things like that.” She says with a chuckle.
He downs another drink, grinning “I’m a gardener, work in the kitchen, things like that.”
*Cut for Salem.*
He smiles happily at her, shifting back into humanoid form, laying with her, “My wife…”
She helps him change, looking at her new ring occasionally “This… is the most perfect day.”
“And you helped me just as much, even if I can’t use magic like you.” She says with a smile.
“Yep an honest life for a former pirate, nothing’s half as good”
*Sure, why not?*
He does a kickflip and hits the edge of his skateboard so that it flies up before he catches it mid-air, putting his viol onto his back with his other hand. "Naw, man. I save my own songs for my shows. They're usually the lowest rated anyway. I can play like a boss, but I execute the songs better than I make em'." He holds out his now freed-up hand. "Snausage Stigmata."
Podmorski is sleeping on the couch in the inn. His tail flicks and his ears twitch every once in a while.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He nods. "Cool name, brah. You look like you've been in a scrap or two. Heard this was a wild neighborhood, and I'm glad to see some confirmation." He smiles. "So, any rock joints 'round here?"
His eyes immediately open. He flicks a pudgy finger and the door opens. Jack is pulled inside, the telekinetic grasp keeping him from tripping or spilling the coffee.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He rubs the side of their face softly “Rest, you earned it.” He gives her a little smooch.
Once they are done, she picks them up, as well as the clothes, “What next, my dear?”
She gives them another kiss, stopping at their camp, “Protect me? I’m protecting you.”
“Used to be a pirate, now I’m just a husband and a father.”
*currently making a nice, respectable suburban family who’s youngest child is a demonic herald of evil.*