His straw haired head hangs low in sadness, "They are the cursed spirits of a town that died of famine. Their hunger can never be sated."
He crosses his arms over his decaying armor. "That is no excuse to steal from the living."
"I suppose not," He looks at his flock and then back at you, "You don't look to be living either."
"But my flock is." he growls
"I apologize. I'll try to keep my crows away. They shouldn't be stealing from you. I wouldn't want your birds to suffer the same fate of starvation as mine."
"Thank you." he says, anger melting rather quickly.
"I best be off then." He pulls off his gloves, and black feathers bulge out like stuffing. The crows begins to rise into the air as he spreads his arms which become like wings. He doesn't so much as fly as be born away by the wind. His rags flap and flutter as he is carried off his feet and soars away in the midst of his blackbird cloud.
His straw haired head hangs low in sadness, "They are the cursed spirits of a town that died of famine. Their hunger can never be sated."
He crosses his arms over his decaying armor. "That is no excuse to steal from the living."
"I suppose not," He looks at his flock and then back at you, "You don't look to be living either."
"But my flock is." he growls
"I apologize. I'll try to keep my crows away. They shouldn't be stealing from you. I wouldn't want your birds to suffer the same fate of starvation as mine."
"Thank you." he says, anger melting rather quickly.
"I best be off then." He pulls off his gloves, and black feathers bulge out like stuffing. The crows begins to rise into the air as he spreads his arms which become like wings. He doesn't so much as fly as be born away by the wind. His rags flap and flutter as he is carried off his feet and soars away in the midst of his blackbird cloud.
Bird King watches for a moment before shaking his head and going back to feeding his birds
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"I best be off then." He pulls off his gloves, and black feathers bulge out like stuffing. The crows begins to rise into the air as he spreads his arms which become like wings. He doesn't so much as fly as be born away by the wind. His rags flap and flutter as he is carried off his feet and soars away in the midst of his blackbird cloud.
Bird King watches for a moment before shaking his head and going back to feeding his birds
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
A rust-colored tabaxi with a wooden glaive stands away from the garden, looking at and smelling the many plants.
Caramel is hiding and watching the birds.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Theren smiles as he waters the plants and trims them.
"I can sense you, you know." he says, looking over at them
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Mauric resists the urge to pluck or steal any herbs.
The undead tortoiseshell slinks out of her hiding spot.
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 would appreciate it if you didn't take anything from my garden. I've worked very hard on it."
The skull smiles at her from his armor.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“Huh? Oh no no, I would never! Sorry, I was just admiring this beautiful place you got here. I’m Mauric, and I’m a bit new here.”
She walks up and rubs against his leg.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"Names Theren. Welcome, its a nice place here, to be honest."
"Hello there. What is your name?"
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“I can tell. So many interesting people. Once I get started, I’ll have plenty of business.”
<I’m Caramel.> The cat is telepathic.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"Get started on what?"
<Hello Caramel. I am Bird King.>
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*goooooood morning blackreef!*
*This is your visionary-*
“Oh, I’m a chef. Of some renown. I’m going to work my way up until I’m the biggest thing in this whole town!”
<I gathered from the many, many birds. But I’d like to tell you, I was not thinking of eating any of them.”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*-tackles and shoves characters at-*
Theren is tending to his garden of herbs and flowers. He smiles as he breathes in the rich aromas.
Phoenix is on a ridge with binoculars. He tracks a few heavy duty military vehicles.
Bird King is feeding his birds. He talks to them in a language older than time itself.
Nick is outside in front of a training dummy. He is soaked in sweat and bare chested as he lands blow after blow on the dummy.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"Good luck."
<That is good. Because if you were, I'd have to kill you. and I don't want that.>
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*REFERENCE DETECTED*
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’ve done it before (twice) and I’ll do it again.” For some reason, you get the impression that he will be successful in this endeavor.
<…> Caramel is blank in response to this.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"Well, if you need herbs just let me know."
<I was kidding.>
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*I respect ya if you get the reference*
*cut*
“Really? You’d sell from your own garden to a complete stranger? You’re a good person.”
<I see. Yes.> She looks around awkwardly.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*ack- *absorbs information*
Jack is eating a carrot as he walks up to the garden curiously
Rory has closed the shrine for the day, sitting in the dark building, skin littered with bruises from the previous days events
Anastasius is having lunch in the tavern, enjoying the cool morning air