Thirteen is trying to consort with higher-multiversal entities.
Mauric is making piercer kebabs.
Loriche has set up signs directing people along the path to her camp.
Riotan is preparing his incursion.
A man stands at the entrance to her camp. At least, he's reminiscent of a man. His features are off, as if someone got all the pieces of a man and put them in the right places, but they didn't line up in a way that says 'person.' He wears fine clothes with dirt under the cuffs, as well as under his fingernails. He's otherwise immaculate, his oversized eyes and overwhite smile gleaming in the half-light of the woods.
Thirteen is trying to consort with higher-multiversal entities.
Mauric is making piercer kebabs.
Loriche has set up signs directing people along the path to her camp.
Riotan is preparing his incursion.
A man stands at the entrance to her camp. At least, he's reminiscent of a man. His features are off, as if someone got all the pieces of a man and put them in the right places, but they didn't line up in a way that says 'person.' He wears fine clothes with dirt under the cuffs, as well as under his fingernails. He's otherwise immaculate, his oversized eyes and overwhite smile gleaming in the half-light of the woods.
"Hiya, sir! Are you looking for magical weapons or handicrafts?" She says to him.
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.
Carrion has unwrapped the bandage's that conform his body and is back to his fatty, bloated beautiful self. He is currently munching on a massive bowl of popcorn that is almost as big as an owlbear.
Lee is outside, smoking. He is smoking outside because someone has already yelled at him for smoking inside. Thank god that's all they yelled at him for, if he hadn't had on his mask then people would've been screaming in fear.
Thirteen is trying to consort with higher-multiversal entities.
Mauric is making piercer kebabs.
Loriche has set up signs directing people along the path to her camp.
Riotan is preparing his incursion.
A man stands at the entrance to her camp. At least, he's reminiscent of a man. His features are off, as if someone got all the pieces of a man and put them in the right places, but they didn't line up in a way that says 'person.' He wears fine clothes with dirt under the cuffs, as well as under his fingernails. He's otherwise immaculate, his oversized eyes and overwhite smile gleaming in the half-light of the woods.
"Hiya, sir! Are you looking for magical weapons or handicrafts?" She says to him.
"Handicrafts?" He repeats. His voice isn't human either. He takes a step forward, seemingly curious.
Carrion has unwrapped the bandage's that conform his body and is back to his fatty, bloated beautiful self. He is currently munching on a massive bowl of popcorn that is almost as big as an owlbear.
Lee is outside, smoking. He is smoking outside because someone has already yelled at him for smoking inside. Thank god that's all they yelled at him for, if he hadn't had on his mask then people would've been screaming in fear.
Cyvus nods to him, taking a big drag from a cigar himself. He's leaned up against a wall, and his graciously aged face shows signs of weariness, the first in ages.
“No no, I’ve got to give you more… something you want… anything you want.”
“Oh… I’ve been looking for a god to align myself with… do you know any that I could?”
“I’ll have to think up something myself then…” He puts the bango down, kissing them again, for a much longer time.
“But… which one would you hypothetically recommend to a complete stranger to become their god?”
He does as well, each moment pure bliss as he pressing farther into passion, wrapping his arms around her, licking her tongue.
She writes down Omi’s name “Thsts… the fall god, right?” She asks politely, looking back to them.
Thirteen is trying to consort with higher-multiversal entities.
Mauric is making piercer kebabs.
Loriche has set up signs directing people along the path to her camp.
Riotan is preparing his incursion.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"To save my friend's life."
"Thanks, but I got it." He tells her.
Needing his cultists by his side for this affair, Rio's looking for him.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
A man stands at the entrance to her camp. At least, he's reminiscent of a man. His features are off, as if someone got all the pieces of a man and put them in the right places, but they didn't line up in a way that says 'person.' He wears fine clothes with dirt under the cuffs, as well as under his fingernails. He's otherwise immaculate, his oversized eyes and overwhite smile gleaming in the half-light of the woods.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"You can't cure magical cancer, then?"
"I hope so. Piercers can be really stringy." He nods.
Riotan sits beside him, patting him on the head consolingly.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"Hiya, sir! Are you looking for magical weapons or handicrafts?" She says to him.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Carrion has unwrapped the bandage's that conform his body and is back to his fatty, bloated beautiful self. He is currently munching on a massive bowl of popcorn that is almost as big as an owlbear.
Lee is outside, smoking. He is smoking outside because someone has already yelled at him for smoking inside. Thank god that's all they yelled at him for, if he hadn't had on his mask then people would've been screaming in fear.
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
"Handicrafts?" He repeats. His voice isn't human either. He takes a step forward, seemingly curious.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Lee looks down at them and tilts his head "Yo."
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
"So... what are you, exactly?"
"In like... a minute or so."
Rio wordlessly hugs 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.