So spend your hours on What you think I've done wrong I know I'm in your mind I've been here way too long I want to spend my life With those who've done me right Your heart is frozen over I'm a four-leaf clover
A stoic-looking ranger enters the inn, with a small child trailing behind him. The ranger is tall and dark with a stubbly face and short black coily hair, wearing a ranger's cloak and sigil, his longbow slung over his back. The little girl following him hardly looks anything like him, with coppery skin and a thick, fluffy mane of auburn hair poorly half-tucked into a wool cap. She wears large puffy gloves and shoes. As they walk in, she asks the ranger question after curious question and he gladly answers.
A few moments after them someone else walks into the inn. Unlike the warm scene with the two he is absolutely drenched in blood. He is a well built man wearing a breastplate and leather armor, a shortsword in a scabbard to his size and a buckler on his arm. He smells of blood, sweat, and steel. He isn't bleeding from anywhere visible, the fur on his shoulder soaked in blood. He looks like a typical adventurer as he silently sits down in the inn.
The ranger covers the child's eyes and tells her to go play outside, which she gladly does. He regards the bloodied man with suspicion but approaches. "Hard fight?"
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I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
He falls over. "No, I think it worked, I just didn't get accepted into the Spirit World. I think I might have to die first. I'll check the books before I do anything rash."
Auto fail since he's too out of his gourd to resist it. Riotan is suddenly pulled into a world of drug-addled agony. The frontlines of an absolute meat grinder of a war. People ripped to shreds but unable to die. The dead walk the earth. Faith and pain drive. He's looking around, probably admiring all the pain, when suddenly he sees a man standing there, mangled beyond belief and dressed in a medic uniform. Cathan himself. Burned to a crisp by his own gas, too afraid to move or even breathe, pointing to the medical tent with one hand and holding the severed arm of an incinerated comrade in the other. You would think him a grotesque statue, but the bodily fluids pouring from his half-melted body say otherwise. His veiny eyes slowly turn to Riotan.
She worriedly and hurriedly helps him up. “WHOA! Look pal, I’ve heard stories about people dying because they thought it would make them gods. It never works. When you die, you either come back to this world or stay dead.”
Riotan is almost overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of misery and torment flooding his senses. For him, this is a veritable paradise.
"Yeah, there's this Gourmet Council of spirits that need to accept you into their ranks. I guess I didn't make the cut."
Red mist begins to roll in, obscuring the memory. Riotan is shunted out of the dream, and Cathan is standing up. He's uninjured. Probably never was.
So spend your hours on What you think I've done wrong I know I'm in your mind I've been here way too long I want to spend my life With those who've done me right Your heart is frozen over I'm a four-leaf clover
A stoic-looking ranger enters the inn, with a small child trailing behind him. The ranger is tall and dark with a stubbly face and short black coily hair, wearing a ranger's cloak and sigil, his longbow slung over his back. The little girl following him hardly looks anything like him, with coppery skin and a thick, fluffy mane of auburn hair poorly half-tucked into a wool cap. She wears large puffy gloves and shoes. As they walk in, she asks the ranger question after curious question and he gladly answers.
A few moments after them someone else walks into the inn. Unlike the warm scene with the two he is absolutely drenched in blood. He is a well built man wearing a breastplate and leather armor, a shortsword in a scabbard to his size and a buckler on his arm. He smells of blood, sweat, and steel. He isn't bleeding from anywhere visible, the fur on his shoulder soaked in blood. He looks like a typical adventurer as he silently sits down in the inn.
The ranger covers the child's eyes and tells her to go play outside, which she gladly does. He regards the bloodied man with suspicion but approaches. "Hard fight?"
He watches the child run outside before turning to the Ranger "Harder than usual. They died all the same." He takes a towel out of a pouch and begins to clean his armor.
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Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
He falls over. "No, I think it worked, I just didn't get accepted into the Spirit World. I think I might have to die first. I'll check the books before I do anything rash."
Auto fail since he's too out of his gourd to resist it. Riotan is suddenly pulled into a world of drug-addled agony. The frontlines of an absolute meat grinder of a war. People ripped to shreds but unable to die. The dead walk the earth. Faith and pain drive. He's looking around, probably admiring all the pain, when suddenly he sees a man standing there, mangled beyond belief and dressed in a medic uniform. Cathan himself. Burned to a crisp by his own gas, too afraid to move or even breathe, pointing to the medical tent with one hand and holding the severed arm of an incinerated comrade in the other. You would think him a grotesque statue, but the bodily fluids pouring from his half-melted body say otherwise. His veiny eyes slowly turn to Riotan.
She worriedly and hurriedly helps him up. “WHOA! Look pal, I’ve heard stories about people dying because they thought it would make them gods. It never works. When you die, you either come back to this world or stay dead.”
Riotan is almost overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of misery and torment flooding his senses. For him, this is a veritable paradise.
"Yeah, there's this Gourmet Council of spirits that need to accept you into their ranks. I guess I didn't make the cut."
Red mist begins to roll in, obscuring the memory. Riotan is shunted out of the dream, and Cathan is standing up. He's uninjured. Probably never was.
“Stop saying gourmet! Look, just don’t kill yourself!”
Riotan falls back, looking dazed. “That was incredible! A tapestry of trauma! The finest connoisseurs would weep from the taste alone!”
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.
A stoic-looking ranger enters the inn, with a small child trailing behind him. The ranger is tall and dark with a stubbly face and short black coily hair, wearing a ranger's cloak and sigil, his longbow slung over his back. The little girl following him hardly looks anything like him, with coppery skin and a thick, fluffy mane of auburn hair poorly half-tucked into a wool cap. She wears large puffy gloves and shoes. As they walk in, she asks the ranger question after curious question and he gladly answers.
A few moments after them someone else walks into the inn. Unlike the warm scene with the two he is absolutely drenched in blood. He is a well built man wearing a breastplate and leather armor, a shortsword in a scabbard to his size and a buckler on his arm. He smells of blood, sweat, and steel. He isn't bleeding from anywhere visible, the fur on his shoulder soaked in blood. He looks like a typical adventurer as he silently sits down in the inn.
The ranger covers the child's eyes and tells her to go play outside, which she gladly does. He regards the bloodied man with suspicion but approaches. "Hard fight?"
He watches the child run outside before turning to the Ranger "Harder than usual. They died all the same." He takes a towel out of a pouch and begins to clean his armor.
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
Olive is in the forest laying on the forest floor next to an empty but foul smelling pickle jar and a pot of tea that smells like dirt, hardtack and... Is that smell orca blood? She's staring at the sky, clearly out of it. "woooaahh..."
Felix waddles over and sniffs the jar. He wrinkles his nose and drops the jar on the dirt. He picks Olive up and heads to the tavern to get her some real food.
*Darn, depression suddenly hit me like a rock through a window.*
(can i help at all?)
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So spend your hours on What you think I've done wrong I know I'm in your mind I've been here way too long I want to spend my life With those who've done me right Your heart is frozen over I'm a four-leaf clover
*Darn, depression suddenly hit me like a rock through a window.*
*i get that, man. Would you like a small cup of roobios tea?*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
Olive is in the forest laying on the forest floor next to an empty but foul smelling pickle jar and a pot of tea that smells like dirt, hardtack and... Is that smell orca blood? She's staring at the sky, clearly out of it. "woooaahh..."
Felix waddles over and sniffs the jar. He wrinkles his nose and drops the jar on the dirt. He picks Olive up and heads to the tavern to get her some real food.
She squeaks when picked up, but doesn't struggle "oh cool, where we goin'? Also who are you?"
*Darn, depression suddenly hit me like a rock through a window.*
(can i help at all?)
*I don't know whats wrong tbh, one moment I am feeling great, the next I'm like 'Damn, do all I do is make characters because my creativity sucks that bad that I never like them later on?'*
*Darn, depression suddenly hit me like a rock through a window.*
(can i help at all?)
*I don't know whats wrong tbh, one moment I am feeling great, the next I'm like 'Damn, do all I do is make characters because my creativity sucks that bad that I never like them later on?'*
*I can relate to that. You’re super creative and a great writer, it’s just that your personal parameters for good writing change over time.*
*ITS DONE!*
https://www.dndbeyond.com/monsters/4875826-soul-rancher
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
(good morning)
So spend your hours on
What you think I've done wrong
I know I'm in your mind
I've been here way too long
I want to spend my life
With those who've done me right
Your heart is frozen over
I'm a four-leaf clover
The ranger covers the child's eyes and tells her to go play outside, which she gladly does. He regards the bloodied man with suspicion but approaches. "Hard fight?"
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
"Yeah, there's this Gourmet Council of spirits that need to accept you into their ranks. I guess I didn't make the cut."
Red mist begins to roll in, obscuring the memory. Riotan is shunted out of the dream, and Cathan is standing up. He's uninjured. Probably never was.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*this is so cool*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*T e x z a z*
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
(computer is acting up again -v- )
So spend your hours on
What you think I've done wrong
I know I'm in your mind
I've been here way too long
I want to spend my life
With those who've done me right
Your heart is frozen over
I'm a four-leaf clover
He watches the child run outside before turning to the Ranger "Harder than usual. They died all the same." He takes a towel out of a pouch and begins to clean his armor.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
“Stop saying gourmet! Look, just don’t kill yourself!”
Riotan falls back, looking dazed. “That was incredible! A tapestry of trauma! The finest connoisseurs would weep from the taste alone!”
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 assume you're a barbarian?"
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
Felix waddles over and sniffs the jar. He wrinkles his nose and drops the jar on the dirt. He picks Olive up and heads to the tavern to get her some real food.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Darn, depression suddenly hit me like a rock through a window.*
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
*Want me to throw a rock back at depression?*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
(can i help at all?)
So spend your hours on
What you think I've done wrong
I know I'm in your mind
I've been here way too long
I want to spend my life
With those who've done me right
Your heart is frozen over
I'm a four-leaf clover
*i get that, man. Would you like a small cup of roobios tea?*
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
She squeaks when picked up, but doesn't struggle "oh cool, where we goin'? Also who are you?"
Hi! I'm violet, the ultimate silly snake!
"Not at all. You're a ranger? I'm a ranger."
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
*I don't know whats wrong tbh, one moment I am feeling great, the next I'm like 'Damn, do all I do is make characters because my creativity sucks that bad that I never like them later on?'*
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
*Dang, sorry to hear. I could bring out fishy if that'll make you feel a bit better?*
Hi! I'm violet, the ultimate silly snake!
*I can relate to that. You’re super creative and a great writer, it’s just that your personal parameters for good writing change over time.*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.