Out in the distance, the field next the village is sparkling. Some with true sight can see this sparkling aura is not one of magic but one of spiritual nature. Many spirits congregating here, lost and alone. As if on que, four leather clad figures ride down the hill on the adjacent side. They ride upon the backs of mechanical horses made of steel that are powered by some sort of black smoke. They wear large, wide brimmed cowboys hats fitted with bone pieces. They each wear a mask that covers their face. An owl carved crudely from bone, a snarling demon looking one with goggles over the eyes, one faceless black mask with no eyeholes made of stone, the biggest of the bunch wears a burlap sack that has tiny burnt out eyeholes and smile drawn on with charcoal. The throw lassos made of metal at the spirit's, somehow able to grip the souls and bring them down. They jump off their horses and produce a branding iron that they lay on the skins of the spirits. The spirits howl and thrash then suddenly disappear into the enteral mists.
-other characters-
Kazekiri is sharpening her nails while sitting on top of the water over by the lake.
Scott is with Tycho, watching him read.
Stroth is being an arse.
Isaac is browsing the market stalls. a small bag of stuff is in his hand
Stroth appears behind him, grinning
He looks back at her "hello"
"How're you hm Isaac?" She asks
He yawns and rubs his eyes, clearly sleep deprived "do I know you?"
"You are the one who sent the drones after me!"
(those weren't his lol)
"the what now?"
"Ah, nevermind. Ignore that tidbit of information." She said, chuckling.
"I've seen a drone around here but it seems harmless"
Out in the distance, the field next the village is sparkling. Some with true sight can see this sparkling aura is not one of magic but one of spiritual nature. Many spirits congregating here, lost and alone. As if on que, four leather clad figures ride down the hill on the adjacent side. They ride upon the backs of mechanical horses made of steel that are powered by some sort of black smoke. They wear large, wide brimmed cowboys hats fitted with bone pieces. They each wear a mask that covers their face. An owl carved crudely from bone, a snarling demon looking one with goggles over the eyes, one faceless black mask with no eyeholes made of stone, the biggest of the bunch wears a burlap sack that has tiny burnt out eyeholes and smile drawn on with charcoal. The throw lassos made of metal at the spirit's, somehow able to grip the souls and bring them down. They jump off their horses and produce a branding iron that they lay on the skins of the spirits. The spirits howl and thrash then suddenly disappear into the enteral mists.
Dyscharist watches from his picnic grounds, which are very close. His awesome beauty and radiant aura make it clear that he is some sort of spirit himself, but not an undead one. Little soot sprites around him are enjoying the picnic as much as he was a moment ago before he saw what he assumes to be the mass destruction of humanoid spirits.
The Soul Ranchers gather up the spirits, dispelling each one until none are left. They make a chirping noise to each other, nodding.
Out in the distance, the field next the village is sparkling. Some with true sight can see this sparkling aura is not one of magic but one of spiritual nature. Many spirits congregating here, lost and alone. As if on que, four leather clad figures ride down the hill on the adjacent side. They ride upon the backs of mechanical horses made of steel that are powered by some sort of black smoke. They wear large, wide brimmed cowboys hats fitted with bone pieces. They each wear a mask that covers their face. An owl carved crudely from bone, a snarling demon looking one with goggles over the eyes, one faceless black mask with no eyeholes made of stone, the biggest of the bunch wears a burlap sack that has tiny burnt out eyeholes and smile drawn on with charcoal. The throw lassos made of metal at the spirit's, somehow able to grip the souls and bring them down. They jump off their horses and produce a branding iron that they lay on the skins of the spirits. The spirits howl and thrash then suddenly disappear into the enteral mists.
-other characters-
Kazekiri is sharpening her nails while sitting on top of the water over by the lake.
Scott is with Tycho, watching him read.
Stroth is being an arse.
Loriche has reached the edge of the woods, still holding several signs under her arm, and watches this spectacle with awe.
Riotan is severely tripping in an alleyway, thrashing about with little external awareness at the moment, as he’s been doing for seven hours or so by now.
They work efficiently, making a clicking noise amongst each other.
Stroth raises a brow, walking over, her cane tapping against the sidewalk. They crouch down, picking them up and grinning.
Loriche kinda shrinks back, realizing that as an undead, she might be a target.
“Nnnnngggghhhhh…” Riotan pushes against her face, and then his face splits into an inexplicable grin, his tongue flicking out rapidly. “That smell… you must really be a terrible person, mustn’t you?”
They don't seem to notice her, and if they do, they do not seem to care. One even waves to her before turning back to the rest.
Stroth grins and nods "Unfortunately that is card I have been dealt by fate. Don't worry, I won't do anything nefarious to you."
Out in the distance, the field next the village is sparkling. Some with true sight can see this sparkling aura is not one of magic but one of spiritual nature. Many spirits congregating here, lost and alone. As if on que, four leather clad figures ride down the hill on the adjacent side. They ride upon the backs of mechanical horses made of steel that are powered by some sort of black smoke. They wear large, wide brimmed cowboys hats fitted with bone pieces. They each wear a mask that covers their face. An owl carved crudely from bone, a snarling demon looking one with goggles over the eyes, one faceless black mask with no eyeholes made of stone, the biggest of the bunch wears a burlap sack that has tiny burnt out eyeholes and smile drawn on with charcoal. The throw lassos made of metal at the spirit's, somehow able to grip the souls and bring them down. They jump off their horses and produce a branding iron that they lay on the skins of the spirits. The spirits howl and thrash then suddenly disappear into the enteral mists.
Dyscharist watches from his picnic grounds, which are very close. His awesome beauty and radiant aura make it clear that he is some sort of spirit himself, but not an undead one. Little soot sprites around him are enjoying the picnic as much as he was a moment ago before he saw what he assumes to be the mass destruction of humanoid spirits.
The Soul Ranchers gather up the spirits, dispelling each one until none are left. They make a chirping noise to each other, nodding.
Dys stands up and walks over. "That was quite impressive. May I ask the purpose of such a culling? It seemed rather painful for the spirits."
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)
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
Out in the distance, the field next the village is sparkling. Some with true sight can see this sparkling aura is not one of magic but one of spiritual nature. Many spirits congregating here, lost and alone. As if on que, four leather clad figures ride down the hill on the adjacent side. They ride upon the backs of mechanical horses made of steel that are powered by some sort of black smoke. They wear large, wide brimmed cowboys hats fitted with bone pieces. They each wear a mask that covers their face. An owl carved crudely from bone, a snarling demon looking one with goggles over the eyes, one faceless black mask with no eyeholes made of stone, the biggest of the bunch wears a burlap sack that has tiny burnt out eyeholes and smile drawn on with charcoal. The throw lassos made of metal at the spirit's, somehow able to grip the souls and bring them down. They jump off their horses and produce a branding iron that they lay on the skins of the spirits. The spirits howl and thrash then suddenly disappear into the enteral mists.
Dyscharist watches from his picnic grounds, which are very close. His awesome beauty and radiant aura make it clear that he is some sort of spirit himself, but not an undead one. Little soot sprites around him are enjoying the picnic as much as he was a moment ago before he saw what he assumes to be the mass destruction of humanoid spirits.
The Soul Ranchers gather up the spirits, dispelling each one until none are left. They make a chirping noise to each other, nodding.
Dys stands up and walks over. "That was quite impressive. May I ask the purpose of such a culling? It seemed rather painful for the spirits."
The biggest amongst them, the one wearing the burlap sack, walks over slowly. "Forgive us, it is out job. We do not wish to hurt them but the tools we were given were the most effective and the least painful." He explained.
Out in the distance, the field next the village is sparkling. Some with true sight can see this sparkling aura is not one of magic but one of spiritual nature. Many spirits congregating here, lost and alone. As if on que, four leather clad figures ride down the hill on the adjacent side. They ride upon the backs of mechanical horses made of steel that are powered by some sort of black smoke. They wear large, wide brimmed cowboys hats fitted with bone pieces. They each wear a mask that covers their face. An owl carved crudely from bone, a snarling demon looking one with goggles over the eyes, one faceless black mask with no eyeholes made of stone, the biggest of the bunch wears a burlap sack that has tiny burnt out eyeholes and smile drawn on with charcoal. The throw lassos made of metal at the spirit's, somehow able to grip the souls and bring them down. They jump off their horses and produce a branding iron that they lay on the skins of the spirits. The spirits howl and thrash then suddenly disappear into the enteral mists.
-other characters-
Kazekiri is sharpening her nails while sitting on top of the water over by the lake.
Scott is with Tycho, watching him read.
Stroth is being an arse.
*oooooooooooo, nice!*
Tycho hums, on a page about 'mirror spirits' which are a subtype of demons
He raises a brow "What are those?"
"Mirror spirits." He looks over, "Ok, simple explanation rather than the long one. You know changelings? They're a subtype of fey."
"Ohhhhh." He said, blinking.
"And mirror spirits are to demons what changeligns are to fey."
Out in the distance, the field next the village is sparkling. Some with true sight can see this sparkling aura is not one of magic but one of spiritual nature. Many spirits congregating here, lost and alone. As if on que, four leather clad figures ride down the hill on the adjacent side. They ride upon the backs of mechanical horses made of steel that are powered by some sort of black smoke. They wear large, wide brimmed cowboys hats fitted with bone pieces. They each wear a mask that covers their face. An owl carved crudely from bone, a snarling demon looking one with goggles over the eyes, one faceless black mask with no eyeholes made of stone, the biggest of the bunch wears a burlap sack that has tiny burnt out eyeholes and smile drawn on with charcoal. The throw lassos made of metal at the spirit's, somehow able to grip the souls and bring them down. They jump off their horses and produce a branding iron that they lay on the skins of the spirits. The spirits howl and thrash then suddenly disappear into the enteral mists.
-other characters-
Kazekiri is sharpening her nails while sitting on top of the water over by the lake.
Scott is with Tycho, watching him read.
Stroth is being an arse.
*oooooooooooo, nice!*
Tycho hums, on a page about 'mirror spirits' which are a subtype of demons
He raises a brow "What are those?"
"Mirror spirits." He looks over, "Ok, simple explanation rather than the long one. You know changelings? They're a subtype of fey."
"Ohhhhh." He said, blinking.
"And mirror spirits are to demons what changeligns are to fey."
"That's... Confusing.." he mutters and lights a cigarette.
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'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 rolls her eyes "Perhaps. If so, they need to take a chill pill."
He starts making his way back towards the tavern "seems like most of the time they stay in the forest so it could just be guarding something"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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
"Mn, perhaps to you." She rolls her eyes.
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 Soul Ranchers gather up the spirits, dispelling each one until none are left. They make a chirping noise to each other, nodding.
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
They don't seem to notice her, and if they do, they do not seem to care. One even waves to her before turning back to the rest.
Stroth grins and nods "Unfortunately that is card I have been dealt by fate. Don't worry, I won't do anything nefarious to you."
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
Dys stands up and walks over. "That was quite impressive. May I ask the purpose of such a culling? It seemed rather painful for the spirits."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*hi*
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)
"what has it done to you?"
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 biggest amongst them, the one wearing the burlap sack, walks over slowly. "Forgive us, it is out job. We do not wish to hurt them but the tools we were given were the most effective and the least painful." He explained.
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
"Shot at me." She grumps
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
"And mirror spirits are to demons what changeligns are to fey."
"Do you not have somewhere to sleep?"
"That's... Confusing.." he mutters and lights a cigarette.
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
"Must have been provoked somehow is my guess"
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
She rolls her eyes "Perhaps. If so, they need to take a chill pill."
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 kinda wanna rp*
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 starts making his way back towards the tavern "seems like most of the time they stay in the forest so it could just be guarding something"
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