A woman sits at the bar in the tavern, her long black hair spilling around her like a waterfall of inky darkness. She wears a loose black blouse, a pair of black leather pants, and heeled boots. She is scribbling something down on a napkin, hastily written the point it doesn't even look like words, more like squiggles. She sighs, crumpling it up, throwing it in the trash before placing her head in her palm, staring at the top shelf of alcohol.
A woman sits at the bar in the tavern, her long black hair spilling around her like a waterfall of inky darkness. She wears a loose black blouse, a pair of black leather pants, and heeled boots. She is scribbling something down on a napkin, hastily written the point it doesn't even look like words, more like squiggles. She sighs, crumpling it up, throwing it in the trash before placing her head in her palm, staring at the top shelf of alcohol.
Throden-Ihtros, the barkeep, walks over. "Desire something, maiden?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
A woman sits at the bar in the tavern, her long black hair spilling around her like a waterfall of inky darkness. She wears a loose black blouse, a pair of black leather pants, and heeled boots. She is scribbling something down on a napkin, hastily written the point it doesn't even look like words, more like squiggles. She sighs, crumpling it up, throwing it in the trash before placing her head in her palm, staring at the top shelf of alcohol.
Throden-Ihtros, the barkeep, walks over. "Desire something, maiden?"
She looks up, her pure black eyes meeting his, almost like she is seeing past him with how intense she is staring. She shrugs nonchalantly, sighing "Money, but I am sure a bartender like you doesn't have that." She realizes what she says may have sounded a little offensive and rolls her wrist "Sorry, sorry, I meant that you don't have money to give away... Bleh, that sounded worse."
A woman sits at the bar in the tavern, her long black hair spilling around her like a waterfall of inky darkness. She wears a loose black blouse, a pair of black leather pants, and heeled boots. She is scribbling something down on a napkin, hastily written the point it doesn't even look like words, more like squiggles. She sighs, crumpling it up, throwing it in the trash before placing her head in her palm, staring at the top shelf of alcohol.
Throden-Ihtros, the barkeep, walks over. "Desire something, maiden?"
She looks up, her pure black eyes meeting his, almost like she is seeing past him with how intense she is staring. She shrugs nonchalantly, sighing "Money, but I am sure a bartender like you doesn't have that." She realizes what she says may have sounded a little offensive and rolls her wrist "Sorry, sorry, I meant that you don't have money to give away... Bleh, that sounded worse."
*If they have any supernatural eyesight, they see a ghost possessing the lizardfolk*
The bartender blinks, unphased. "Money is something I possess, but these soft-skinned 'food tokens' exist as something I desire."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
*Hmmm... mind if I try out one of my bad guys? Neither of them are super violent... Yet.*
*Sure*
Meroving is playing with time
Yacatl is stretching
Throden-Ihtros is sweeping the floors
Lazarus is whittling
*Could I get a description?*
A huge beast, maybe 11 feet tall and wearing dress pants of cheap silk, moves forward from the dark of the woods (I assume he isn't whittling in the tavern). He has thick, fluffy fur in bright lime and cerulean, big sharp teeth, and a strong, sweet scent, like candles and perfume. "Whater'ya makin'?" He speaks with a slow, deep voice and a Southern drawl. He genuinely does not look very intelligent, despite his sharp manner of dress. He has eyes like a puppy.
A woman sits at the bar in the tavern, her long black hair spilling around her like a waterfall of inky darkness. She wears a loose black blouse, a pair of black leather pants, and heeled boots. She is scribbling something down on a napkin, hastily written the point it doesn't even look like words, more like squiggles. She sighs, crumpling it up, throwing it in the trash before placing her head in her palm, staring at the top shelf of alcohol.
Throden-Ihtros, the barkeep, walks over. "Desire something, maiden?"
She looks up, her pure black eyes meeting his, almost like she is seeing past him with how intense she is staring. She shrugs nonchalantly, sighing "Money, but I am sure a bartender like you doesn't have that." She realizes what she says may have sounded a little offensive and rolls her wrist "Sorry, sorry, I meant that you don't have money to give away... Bleh, that sounded worse."
*If they have any supernatural eyesight, they see a ghost possessing the lizardfolk*
The bartender blinks, unphased. "Money is something I possess, but these soft-skinned 'food tokens' exist as something I desire."
*She doesn't*
"Food tokens? Enlighten me." She tilts her head curiously.
*Hmmm... mind if I try out one of my bad guys? Neither of them are super violent... Yet.*
*Sure*
Meroving is playing with time
Yacatl is stretching
Throden-Ihtros is sweeping the floors
Lazarus is whittling
*Could I get a description?*
A huge beast, maybe 11 feet tall and wearing dress pants of cheap silk, moves forward from the dark of the woods (I assume he isn't whittling in the tavern). He has thick, fluffy fur in bright lime and cerulean, big sharp teeth, and a strong, sweet scent, like candles and perfume. "Whater'ya makin'?" He speaks with a slow, deep voice and a Southern drawl. He genuinely does not look very intelligent, despite his sharp manner of dress. He has eyes like a puppy.
*Lazarus is a plate-armor garbed Oathbreaker Vampire. They have the emblazoned crest of a fire-red eagle on their armor. Their eyes are blood-shot red, their hair jet black, and their skin pale white*
Lazarus looks up, steeling themselves. "A depiction of an elk... Want me to change it to you?" He attempts to jokes.
*Wait, so like a werebeast?*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
A woman sits at the bar in the tavern, her long black hair spilling around her like a waterfall of inky darkness. She wears a loose black blouse, a pair of black leather pants, and heeled boots. She is scribbling something down on a napkin, hastily written the point it doesn't even look like words, more like squiggles. She sighs, crumpling it up, throwing it in the trash before placing her head in her palm, staring at the top shelf of alcohol.
A short, emaciated man dressed in filthy rags steps in dramatically. His hair is long, unkempt, and filthy. He looks like he hasn't had the option for even the vaguest self-care for months at least, but he walks like a nobleman. He has a heavy coinpurse clutched in his long-nailed hand, from which he removes three platinum coins and places them on the counter, laughing.
*I am now*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Awesome. Want to do Atticus or someone else?*
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
*Hello!!*
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
*Hmmm... mind if I try out one of my bad guys? Neither of them are super violent... Yet.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Sure*
Meroving is playing with time
Yacatl is stretching
Throden-Ihtros is sweeping the floors
Lazarus is whittling
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
*Hi Wendigo. How have you been?*
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
*(Cracks knuckles) time to wake up*
A woman sits at the bar in the tavern, her long black hair spilling around her like a waterfall of inky darkness. She wears a loose black blouse, a pair of black leather pants, and heeled boots. She is scribbling something down on a napkin, hastily written the point it doesn't even look like words, more like squiggles. She sighs, crumpling it up, throwing it in the trash before placing her head in her palm, staring at the top shelf of alcohol.
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
*I talked to you yesterday lol, also hi again.*
*I am good, had a weird day at work.*
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
Throden-Ihtros, the barkeep, walks over. "Desire something, maiden?"
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
*Well naturally, but I still want to inquire onto how you've been*
*Huh, well hopefully it will eventually make a weird and enthralling story*
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
She looks up, her pure black eyes meeting his, almost like she is seeing past him with how intense she is staring. She shrugs nonchalantly, sighing "Money, but I am sure a bartender like you doesn't have that." She realizes what she says may have sounded a little offensive and rolls her wrist "Sorry, sorry, I meant that you don't have money to give away... Bleh, that sounded worse."
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
*My work hates me and I hate my work.*
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
*If they have any supernatural eyesight, they see a ghost possessing the lizardfolk*
The bartender blinks, unphased. "Money is something I possess, but these soft-skinned 'food tokens' exist as something I desire."
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
*Could I get a description?*
A huge beast, maybe 11 feet tall and wearing dress pants of cheap silk, moves forward from the dark of the woods (I assume he isn't whittling in the tavern). He has thick, fluffy fur in bright lime and cerulean, big sharp teeth, and a strong, sweet scent, like candles and perfume. "Whater'ya makin'?" He speaks with a slow, deep voice and a Southern drawl. He genuinely does not look very intelligent, despite his sharp manner of dress. He has eyes like a puppy.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*She doesn't*
"Food tokens? Enlighten me." She tilts her head curiously.
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
*Lazarus is a plate-armor garbed Oathbreaker Vampire. They have the emblazoned crest of a fire-red eagle on their armor. Their eyes are blood-shot red, their hair jet black, and their skin pale white*
Lazarus looks up, steeling themselves. "A depiction of an elk... Want me to change it to you?" He attempts to jokes.
*Wait, so like a werebeast?*
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
They present a gp. "You exchange it in for food."
*The lizardfolk doesn't fully get coins, they merely see them as food tokens, very similar to parking tokens irl*
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now
*Ooooh.*
She nods along, moving her hair behind her ear "This are called 'coins', little round metal tokens that are worth something."
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
A short, emaciated man dressed in filthy rags steps in dramatically. His hair is long, unkempt, and filthy. He looks like he hasn't had the option for even the vaguest self-care for months at least, but he walks like a nobleman. He has a heavy coinpurse clutched in his long-nailed hand, from which he removes three platinum coins and places them on the counter, laughing.
"Time to share my luck! One for everyone!"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Yeah, food." They say bluntly, ignorant
Hi everyone! I'm working up the will to finalize my signature, so... I guess this will be the signature for now