*I decided my protagonist is both underpowered and pretty desperate to be the "Paragon" archetype of hero. You know, the real good guys.*
*His power? Whenever he eats something, he becomes able to summon the whole and live version of it within the next 8 hours, but only as a shadow. These shadows are frail and he can only keep them up for up to a minute, but he has complete control over them. Also, notably, they come out of his mouth. If they don't fit, they don't come out. No creating entire warriors from a drop of blood. Chickens are stretching it.*
*I'm already coming up with techniques for him to use.*
*I decided my protagonist is both underpowered and pretty desperate to be the "Paragon" archetype of hero. You know, the real good guys.*
*His power? Whenever he eats something, he becomes able to summon the whole and live version of it within the next 8 hours, but only as a shadow. These shadows are frail and he can only keep them up for up to a minute, but he has complete control over them. Also, notably, they come out of his mouth. If they don't fit, they don't come out. No creating entire warriors from a drop of blood. Chickens are stretching it.*
*I'm already coming up with techniques for him to use.*
*That's actually really cool! I can see him using rats and mice and stuff or bugs. It's both even and it makes sense in a way.*
William looked at the stones, eyes narrowed. If someone has enough jewels and gold to reserve every seat and buy everything up, then it was someone powerful.
He cracked his neck, stretching. He would have to prepare some fresh meat, not the [GP] frozen stuff he held in the freezer.
His fingers grew into bony claws. His face twisting and contorting into a fanged muzzle. Horns sprouted from his head, branching off in every which direction like a tree. His back legs and arms grew into those of a powerful rotting beast.
If anyone pays attention to the scent in the air, it smells of fear, blood, and oregano. William is currently dicing up fresh oregano in his kitchen while a body of a rather horrible man is hung on a meat hook a few feet away. William seems to be talking to him as he dices the herb. The man seems barely conscious, already lost a lot of blood.
Donn is sitting outside, in the trees watching the people of the town from it. He holds a golden pipe in one hand, curling smoke bring exhaled from his maw. His tails flick back and forth quietly
The time of the reservation is fast approaching. No carriages arrive. No great and mighty beasts from the sky. Simply a man in a pinstriped suit. He grins, revealing his black, gleaming teeth.
*I decided my protagonist is both underpowered and pretty desperate to be the "Paragon" archetype of hero. You know, the real good guys.*
*His power? Whenever he eats something, he becomes able to summon the whole and live version of it within the next 8 hours, but only as a shadow. These shadows are frail and he can only keep them up for up to a minute, but he has complete control over them. Also, notably, they come out of his mouth. If they don't fit, they don't come out. No creating entire warriors from a drop of blood. Chickens are stretching it.*
*I'm already coming up with techniques for him to use.*
*That's actually really cool! I can see him using rats and mice and stuff or bugs. It's both even and it makes sense in a way.*
*Awesome! Thanks!*
*I already thought of bugs, but not mice. I had imagined him eating a bowl of fried flies and releasing their shadows in a horrible, biting swarm to block vision.*
*Also, fun little detail: you are constantly digesting yourself from the inside, so he can try to summon a copy of himself. Or at least an arm.*
The Red Plate has gotten a strange reservation request through the mail. Every seat in the building has been requested, and every dish available all sent to one table with specific times requested, written so that William would have just enough time to plate the dishes nicely and deliver them. It came with several black sapphires with an "S" carved into them, and a note reading "Perhaps you can earn one of my stars this time."
William looked at the stones, eyes narrowed. If someone has enough jewels and gold to reserve every seat and buy everything up, then it was someone powerful.
He cracked his neck, stretching. He would have to prepare some fresh meat, not the [GP] frozen stuff he held in the freezer.
His fingers grew into bony claws. His face twisting and contorting into a fanged muzzle. Horns sprouted from his head, branching off in every which direction like a tree. His back legs and arms grew into those of a powerful rotting beast.
If anyone pays attention to the scent in the air, it smells of fear, blood, and oregano. William is currently dicing up fresh oregano in his kitchen while a body of a rather horrible man is hung on a meat hook a few feet away. William seems to be talking to him as he dices the herb. The man seems barely conscious, already lost a lot of blood.
Donn is sitting outside, in the trees watching the people of the town from it. He holds a golden pipe in one hand, curling smoke bring exhaled from his maw. His tails flick back and forth quietly
Mauric is in the shallow woods right behind the Red Plate, looking for something.
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.
William looked at the stones, eyes narrowed. If someone has enough jewels and gold to reserve every seat and buy everything up, then it was someone powerful.
He cracked his neck, stretching. He would have to prepare some fresh meat, not the [GP] frozen stuff he held in the freezer.
His fingers grew into bony claws. His face twisting and contorting into a fanged muzzle. Horns sprouted from his head, branching off in every which direction like a tree. His back legs and arms grew into those of a powerful rotting beast.
If anyone pays attention to the scent in the air, it smells of fear, blood, and oregano. William is currently dicing up fresh oregano in his kitchen while a body of a rather horrible man is hung on a meat hook a few feet away. William seems to be talking to him as he dices the herb. The man seems barely conscious, already lost a lot of blood.
Donn is sitting outside, in the trees watching the people of the town from it. He holds a golden pipe in one hand, curling smoke bring exhaled from his maw. His tails flick back and forth quietly
The time of the reservation is fast approaching. No carriages arrive. No great and mighty beasts from the sky. Simply a man in a pinstriped suit. He grins, revealing his black, gleaming teeth.
William stood at the entrance, his hand on the doorknob as he opened the door with a sense of cautious neutrality etched on his face. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt, complemented by a pair of well-tailored black dress pants and polished, sophisticated shoes. "Hello there," he greeted warmly, his voice tinged with a touch of formality, "and welcome to The Red Plate."
The Red Plate has gotten a strange reservation request through the mail. Every seat in the building has been requested, and every dish available all sent to one table with specific times requested, written so that William would have just enough time to plate the dishes nicely and deliver them. It came with several black sapphires with an "S" carved into them, and a note reading "Perhaps you can earn one of my stars this time."
William looked at the stones, eyes narrowed. If someone has enough jewels and gold to reserve every seat and buy everything up, then it was someone powerful.
He cracked his neck, stretching. He would have to prepare some fresh meat, not the [GP] frozen stuff he held in the freezer.
His fingers grew into bony claws. His face twisting and contorting into a fanged muzzle. Horns sprouted from his head, branching off in every which direction like a tree. His back legs and arms grew into those of a powerful rotting beast.
If anyone pays attention to the scent in the air, it smells of fear, blood, and oregano. William is currently dicing up fresh oregano in his kitchen while a body of a rather horrible man is hung on a meat hook a few feet away. William seems to be talking to him as he dices the herb. The man seems barely conscious, already lost a lot of blood.
Donn is sitting outside, in the trees watching the people of the town from it. He holds a golden pipe in one hand, curling smoke bring exhaled from his maw. His tails flick back and forth quietly
Mauric is in the shallow woods right behind the Red Plate, looking for something.
William heard the branches moving and immediately is on alert. He washed his hands, turning to the man "Wait here." He says, the horrific irony behind it.
He disappears out the back door, holding his meat cleaver in one hand.
*I decided my protagonist is both underpowered and pretty desperate to be the "Paragon" archetype of hero. You know, the real good guys.*
*His power? Whenever he eats something, he becomes able to summon the whole and live version of it within the next 8 hours, but only as a shadow. These shadows are frail and he can only keep them up for up to a minute, but he has complete control over them. Also, notably, they come out of his mouth. If they don't fit, they don't come out. No creating entire warriors from a drop of blood. Chickens are stretching it.*
*I'm already coming up with techniques for him to use.*
*That's actually really cool! I can see him using rats and mice and stuff or bugs. It's both even and it makes sense in a way.*
*Awesome! Thanks!*
*I already thought of bugs, but not mice. I had imagined him eating a bowl of fried flies and releasing their shadows in a horrible, biting swarm to block vision.*
*Also, fun little detail: you are constantly digesting yourself from the inside, so he can try to summon a copy of himself. Or at least an arm.*
William looked at the stones, eyes narrowed. If someone has enough jewels and gold to reserve every seat and buy everything up, then it was someone powerful.
He cracked his neck, stretching. He would have to prepare some fresh meat, not the [GP] frozen stuff he held in the freezer.
His fingers grew into bony claws. His face twisting and contorting into a fanged muzzle. Horns sprouted from his head, branching off in every which direction like a tree. His back legs and arms grew into those of a powerful rotting beast.
If anyone pays attention to the scent in the air, it smells of fear, blood, and oregano. William is currently dicing up fresh oregano in his kitchen while a body of a rather horrible man is hung on a meat hook a few feet away. William seems to be talking to him as he dices the herb. The man seems barely conscious, already lost a lot of blood.
Donn is sitting outside, in the trees watching the people of the town from it. He holds a golden pipe in one hand, curling smoke bring exhaled from his maw. His tails flick back and forth quietly
The time of the reservation is fast approaching. No carriages arrive. No great and mighty beasts from the sky. Simply a man in a pinstriped suit. He grins, revealing his black, gleaming teeth.
William stood at the entrance, his hand on the doorknob as he opened the door with a sense of cautious neutrality etched on his face. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt, complemented by a pair of well-tailored black dress pants and polished, sophisticated shoes. "Hello there," he greeted warmly, his voice tinged with a touch of formality, "and welcome to The Red Plate."
"What's wrong?" The man chuckles. "Don't remember me? Well, no matter. You haven't been paid to remember faces, amirite?" He laughs. "Now, I had some lesser critics draft the order, so don't feel like you have to do it any particular order. You're in charge, after all." He stares at the wall. "Fine specimens you've got. I'm sure they'll be simply superb, eh?" He chuckles again.
The jolly humanoid enters, then holds the door for William to enter behind him.
The Red Plate has gotten a strange reservation request through the mail. Every seat in the building has been requested, and every dish available all sent to one table with specific times requested, written so that William would have just enough time to plate the dishes nicely and deliver them. It came with several black sapphires with an "S" carved into them, and a note reading "Perhaps you can earn one of my stars this time."
William looked at the stones, eyes narrowed. If someone has enough jewels and gold to reserve every seat and buy everything up, then it was someone powerful.
He cracked his neck, stretching. He would have to prepare some fresh meat, not the [GP] frozen stuff he held in the freezer.
His fingers grew into bony claws. His face twisting and contorting into a fanged muzzle. Horns sprouted from his head, branching off in every which direction like a tree. His back legs and arms grew into those of a powerful rotting beast.
If anyone pays attention to the scent in the air, it smells of fear, blood, and oregano. William is currently dicing up fresh oregano in his kitchen while a body of a rather horrible man is hung on a meat hook a few feet away. William seems to be talking to him as he dices the herb. The man seems barely conscious, already lost a lot of blood.
Donn is sitting outside, in the trees watching the people of the town from it. He holds a golden pipe in one hand, curling smoke bring exhaled from his maw. His tails flick back and forth quietly
Mauric is in the shallow woods right behind the Red Plate, looking for something.
William heard the branches moving and immediately is on alert. He washed his hands, turning to the man "Wait here." He says, the horrific irony behind it.
He disappears out the back door, holding his meat cleaver in one hand.
Mauric’s ears prick up and he hides quickly. Stealth: 18
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.
William looked at the stones, eyes narrowed. If someone has enough jewels and gold to reserve every seat and buy everything up, then it was someone powerful.
He cracked his neck, stretching. He would have to prepare some fresh meat, not the [GP] frozen stuff he held in the freezer.
His fingers grew into bony claws. His face twisting and contorting into a fanged muzzle. Horns sprouted from his head, branching off in every which direction like a tree. His back legs and arms grew into those of a powerful rotting beast.
If anyone pays attention to the scent in the air, it smells of fear, blood, and oregano. William is currently dicing up fresh oregano in his kitchen while a body of a rather horrible man is hung on a meat hook a few feet away. William seems to be talking to him as he dices the herb. The man seems barely conscious, already lost a lot of blood.
Donn is sitting outside, in the trees watching the people of the town from it. He holds a golden pipe in one hand, curling smoke bring exhaled from his maw. His tails flick back and forth quietly
The time of the reservation is fast approaching. No carriages arrive. No great and mighty beasts from the sky. Simply a man in a pinstriped suit. He grins, revealing his black, gleaming teeth.
William stood at the entrance, his hand on the doorknob as he opened the door with a sense of cautious neutrality etched on his face. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt, complemented by a pair of well-tailored black dress pants and polished, sophisticated shoes. "Hello there," he greeted warmly, his voice tinged with a touch of formality, "and welcome to The Red Plate."
"What's wrong?" The man chuckles. "Don't remember me? Well, no matter. You haven't been paid to remember faces, amirite?" He laughs. "Now, I had some lesser critics draft the order, so don't feel like you have to do it any particular order. You're in charge, after all." He stares at the wall. "Fine specimens you've got. I'm sure they'll be simply superb, eh?" He chuckles again.
The jolly humanoid enters, then holds the door for William to enter behind him.
"No. I do remember you." He said "But I was not expecting another visit so soon." He walked in beside him, hands clasped behind his back "It will all be brought out to you in the traditional meal style. Appetizers, salads, soup, the main course, and then desert." He replied and then stared at the wall "It is a he, he decided that is was better to take a woman's life after using her than to not do it at all. He will be a bit sour, like vinegar, but nothing I haven't worked with before."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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
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*Wendy-boi! I made progress on my power system!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Noice!!*
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 decided my protagonist is both underpowered and pretty desperate to be the "Paragon" archetype of hero. You know, the real good guys.*
*His power? Whenever he eats something, he becomes able to summon the whole and live version of it within the next 8 hours, but only as a shadow. These shadows are frail and he can only keep them up for up to a minute, but he has complete control over them. Also, notably, they come out of his mouth. If they don't fit, they don't come out. No creating entire warriors from a drop of blood. Chickens are stretching it.*
*I'm already coming up with techniques for him to use.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*That's actually really cool! I can see him using rats and mice and stuff or bugs. It's both even and it makes sense in a way.*
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
The time of the reservation is fast approaching. No carriages arrive. No great and mighty beasts from the sky. Simply a man in a pinstriped suit. He grins, revealing his black, gleaming teeth.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*I got called a slur TwT*
*I hate people rn*
*Oh dear, time to murder.*
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 wanna curl up in a ball and cry*
*Awesome! Thanks!*
*I already thought of bugs, but not mice. I had imagined him eating a bowl of fried flies and releasing their shadows in a horrible, biting swarm to block vision.*
*Also, fun little detail: you are constantly digesting yourself from the inside, so he can try to summon a copy of himself. Or at least an arm.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Mauric is in the shallow woods right behind the Red Plate, looking for something.
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.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
William stood at the entrance, his hand on the doorknob as he opened the door with a sense of cautious neutrality etched on his face. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt, complemented by a pair of well-tailored black dress pants and polished, sophisticated shoes. "Hello there," he greeted warmly, his voice tinged with a touch of formality, "and welcome to The Red Plate."
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
*who and where and how thick are their windows*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
William heard the branches moving and immediately is on alert. He washed his hands, turning to the man "Wait here." He says, the horrific irony behind it.
He disappears out the back door, holding his meat cleaver in one hand.
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
*Now that horrifying image is in my head :D*
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
"What's wrong?" The man chuckles. "Don't remember me? Well, no matter. You haven't been paid to remember faces, amirite?" He laughs. "Now, I had some lesser critics draft the order, so don't feel like you have to do it any particular order. You're in charge, after all." He stares at the wall. "Fine specimens you've got. I'm sure they'll be simply superb, eh?" He chuckles again.
The jolly humanoid enters, then holds the door for William to enter behind him.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*I dunno, I was at work...*
Mauric’s ears prick up and he hides quickly. Stealth: 18
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*like a client/customer or a coworker?*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"No. I do remember you." He said "But I was not expecting another visit so soon." He walked in beside him, hands clasped behind his back "It will all be brought out to you in the traditional meal style. Appetizers, salads, soup, the main course, and then desert." He replied and then stared at the wall "It is a he, he decided that is was better to take a woman's life after using her than to not do it at all. He will be a bit sour, like vinegar, but nothing I haven't worked with before."
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