The woman enters and crouches down. "If there weren't so many I could probably take them, but, you know, there's three big guys out there!" She chuckles nervously.
"Understandable. I'm not much of a fighter, so I'm helping out in other ways." She slides the painting back over and closes the door, locking it.
The inside of the room, which is only about as big as a walk-in closet, is almost completely empty. The only thing of any note is several rough sketches pinned to a corkboard, detailing various outfits meant to fit something only vaguely reminiscent of a humanoid creature, though that form seems to differ between each drawing.
The Spectre begins to look at the designs, moving in utter silence as the Hunters break into the main building. The woman snaps her head to the side and re-summons her bat, crouching and getting ready to bash in the brains of the next person who tries to enter.
A weathered trailer sits unceremoniously in front of the tavern, its age unmistakable—at least a few years have passed since it last saw any care. The exterior is marred by blotches of mud and grime, suggesting it has been dragged through countless puddles over the seasons, leaving an impression of neglect. Its few windows are obscured by cheap white plastic blinds, which are equally grimy and faded, dulling any light that might filter through. The trailer's door, constructed from heavy, rusted metal, bears the marks of age, with patches of corrosion creeping up like an unwelcome fungus. One of the windows is ajar, allowing a snippet of music to escape into the afternoon air. The unmistakable twang of Johnny Cash's "Chicken in Black" emanates from a battered portable radio, its knobs faded from years of use. Alongside the music, the aroma of fried chicken teases the senses, a tantalizing blend of sizzling oil and the unmistakable scent of crispy, golden crust.
With a sudden, jarring sound, the door swings open, crashing against the trailer with a metallic thud. A man steps into view, standing about 5'11". He is clad in a fitted black t-shirt that clings to his form, paired with blue jeans that are as dirty as the trailer itself, suggesting hard labor and long hours. His thick work boots are scuffed, evidence of his daily toil. His slicked-back black hair contrasts with his fair skin, which tells stories of time spent outdoors—etched with scars that hint at a rugged life. His dark, stormy blue eyes scan the scene with an intensity that pierces through the surrounding chaos. In one hand, he holds a flimsy paper plate, piled high with succulent fried chicken, while the other clasps a solitary plastic cup filled with an indeterminate liquid.
He descends to the single step of the trailer, the aged wood creaking under his weight. Sitting down, he takes a moment to savor the warmth of his meal before digging in, the dual sounds of crunching and Cash's voice intertwining in the air, creating a vivid snapshot of life in this tucked-away corner.
*STICK EM UP EVERYBODY IM ROBBIN' THIS PLACE, PUT ALL YOUR MONEY IN MY GUITAR CASE, DON'T NOBODY MOVE AND NOBODY REACH FOR THAT DOOR!!!*
*In all honesty, this guy is a criminal so that makes sense.*
*I love Johnny Cash, I could never dare to harm this man, anyway. Want to rp?*
*Sure. I got Julian, who is the new guy, Allison, Stroth, Scott, Ichigo, etc.*
*Allison, Scott, and Julian if you wouldn't mind.*
The Jester is wearing his mask, after stabbing someone to death in an alley is sobbing over their corpse. Once again under the control of the mask when they did this, their velvet hands covered in blood.
Paracelsus the Plague Doctor is looking for someone to experiment on, their black leather clothes covered in toxins, poisons, and mushrooms.
The Highwayman has just shot a man dead when they challenged him to a duel in the woods and is now robbing his corpse of whatever he had.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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.'
They hear the sound of rustling nearby, not anything adult, something child sized, teenage at the largest.
It 'looks' towards the noise, though it has no eyes
The sound walks out towards them, a child in green pants, matching green boots, and a white t shirt. The kid radiates strength despite looking to be rather scrawny.
the creature lets out a hiss, before speaking in a womans voice, "Do not disturb my meal."
They hear the sound of rustling nearby, not anything adult, something child sized, teenage at the largest.
It 'looks' towards the noise, though it has no eyes
The sound walks out towards them, a child in green pants, matching green boots, and a white t shirt. The kid radiates strength despite looking to be rather scrawny.
the creature lets out a hiss, before speaking in a womans voice, "Do not disturb my meal."
They beam a smile "Hello, I'm sorry, I just want to watch." They sit down next to them, still smiling.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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.'
"I don't know what you want from me. Don't be kind, don't be cruel. I don't know why I try."
"I want you to stop wasting your time. You could have just killed this guy, or just let him go. That begin said." He turns to the guy "If I see you around here again, I'll find everyone you love and kill them while you watch."
The man stumbles back, struggling to get to his feet.
"Fair point. I have better things to do."
He sheathes the katana "I know you have better things to do, these idiots aren't worth anyone's time."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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.'
A weathered trailer sits unceremoniously in front of the tavern, its age unmistakable—at least a few years have passed since it last saw any care. The exterior is marred by blotches of mud and grime, suggesting it has been dragged through countless puddles over the seasons, leaving an impression of neglect. Its few windows are obscured by cheap white plastic blinds, which are equally grimy and faded, dulling any light that might filter through. The trailer's door, constructed from heavy, rusted metal, bears the marks of age, with patches of corrosion creeping up like an unwelcome fungus. One of the windows is ajar, allowing a snippet of music to escape into the afternoon air. The unmistakable twang of Johnny Cash's "Chicken in Black" emanates from a battered portable radio, its knobs faded from years of use. Alongside the music, the aroma of fried chicken teases the senses, a tantalizing blend of sizzling oil and the unmistakable scent of crispy, golden crust.
With a sudden, jarring sound, the door swings open, crashing against the trailer with a metallic thud. A man steps into view, standing about 5'11". He is clad in a fitted black t-shirt that clings to his form, paired with blue jeans that are as dirty as the trailer itself, suggesting hard labor and long hours. His thick work boots are scuffed, evidence of his daily toil. His slicked-back black hair contrasts with his fair skin, which tells stories of time spent outdoors—etched with scars that hint at a rugged life. His dark, stormy blue eyes scan the scene with an intensity that pierces through the surrounding chaos. In one hand, he holds a flimsy paper plate, piled high with succulent fried chicken, while the other clasps a solitary plastic cup filled with an indeterminate liquid.
He descends to the single step of the trailer, the aged wood creaking under his weight. Sitting down, he takes a moment to savor the warmth of his meal before digging in, the dual sounds of crunching and Cash's voice intertwining in the air, creating a vivid snapshot of life in this tucked-away corner.
*STICK EM UP EVERYBODY IM ROBBIN' THIS PLACE, PUT ALL YOUR MONEY IN MY GUITAR CASE, DON'T NOBODY MOVE AND NOBODY REACH FOR THAT DOOR!!!*
*In all honesty, this guy is a criminal so that makes sense.*
*I love Johnny Cash, I could never dare to harm this man, anyway. Want to rp?*
*Sure. I got Julian, who is the new guy, Allison, Stroth, Scott, Ichigo, etc.*
*Allison, Scott, and Julian if you wouldn't mind.*
The Jester is wearing his mask, after stabbing someone to death in an alley is sobbing over their corpse. Once again under the control of the mask when they did this, their velvet hands covered in blood.
Paracelsus the Plague Doctor is looking for someone to experiment on, their black leather clothes covered in toxins, poisons, and mushrooms.
The Highwayman has just shot a man dead when they challenged him to a duel in the woods and is now robbing his corpse of whatever he had.
Allison is in the market, buying some herbs. She hears sobbing and looks around.
Stroth looks over at Paracelsus, confused as all hell but kinda intrigued.
Julian, after hearing the shot, is looking around to see who died, a shotgun in hand.
The woman enters and crouches down. "If there weren't so many I could probably take them, but, you know, there's three big guys out there!" She chuckles nervously.
"Understandable. I'm not much of a fighter, so I'm helping out in other ways." She slides the painting back over and closes the door, locking it.
The inside of the room, which is only about as big as a walk-in closet, is almost completely empty. The only thing of any note is several rough sketches pinned to a corkboard, detailing various outfits meant to fit something only vaguely reminiscent of a humanoid creature, though that form seems to differ between each drawing.
The Spectre begins to look at the designs, moving in utter silence as the Hunters break into the main building. The woman snaps her head to the side and re-summons her bat, crouching and getting ready to bash in the brains of the next person who tries to enter.
All the designs seem to be for somewhat more formal attire- suits, coats, ties, etc.- though none of them seem designed to fit a creature with humanoid anatomy. The most consistent details that stay across all the sketches is the prevalence of many, many arms.
KK stays as silent and still as they can, afraid of making any noise that would alert the Hunters.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
The woman enters and crouches down. "If there weren't so many I could probably take them, but, you know, there's three big guys out there!" She chuckles nervously.
"Understandable. I'm not much of a fighter, so I'm helping out in other ways." She slides the painting back over and closes the door, locking it.
The inside of the room, which is only about as big as a walk-in closet, is almost completely empty. The only thing of any note is several rough sketches pinned to a corkboard, detailing various outfits meant to fit something only vaguely reminiscent of a humanoid creature, though that form seems to differ between each drawing.
The Spectre begins to look at the designs, moving in utter silence as the Hunters break into the main building. The woman snaps her head to the side and re-summons her bat, crouching and getting ready to bash in the brains of the next person who tries to enter.
All the designs seem to be for somewhat more formal attire- suits, coats, ties, etc.- though none of them seem designed to fit a creature with humanoid anatomy. The most consistent details that stay across all the sketches is the prevalence of many, many arms.
KK stays as silent and still as they can, afraid of making any noise that would alert the Hunters.
Stealth for the Woman: 27
Perception for the Hunters: 12 11 12
Roll stealth for KK. Whichever team has the highest roll wins, regardless of the amount of high or low rolls.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The Spectre begins to look at the designs, moving in utter silence as the Hunters break into the main building. The woman snaps her head to the side and re-summons her bat, crouching and getting ready to bash in the brains of the next person who tries to enter.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Allison, Scott, and Julian if you wouldn't mind.*
The Jester is wearing his mask, after stabbing someone to death in an alley is sobbing over their corpse. Once again under the control of the mask when they did this, their velvet hands covered in blood.
Paracelsus the Plague Doctor is looking for someone to experiment on, their black leather clothes covered in toxins, poisons, and mushrooms.
The Highwayman has just shot a man dead when they challenged him to a duel in the woods and is now robbing his corpse of whatever he had.
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.)
the creature lets out a hiss, before speaking in a womans voice, "Do not disturb my meal."
*I need to make a "normal" character. Actually, I could just bring in my protagonist once I'm ready.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He sits crosslegged, facing Theren "Why? You can't go back?"
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.)
They beam a smile "Hello, I'm sorry, I just want to watch." They sit down next to them, still smiling.
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.)
"You can't change the past kid."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
He sheathes the katana "I know you have better things to do, these idiots aren't worth anyone's time."
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.)
Allison is in the market, buying some herbs. She hears sobbing and looks around.
Stroth looks over at Paracelsus, confused as all hell but kinda intrigued.
Julian, after hearing the shot, is looking around to see who died, a shotgun in 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
He tilts his head "Then why are you regretting it? There's no point then."
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.)
All the designs seem to be for somewhat more formal attire- suits, coats, ties, etc.- though none of them seem designed to fit a creature with humanoid anatomy. The most consistent details that stay across all the sketches is the prevalence of many, many arms.
KK stays as silent and still as they can, afraid of making any noise that would alert the Hunters.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
"Because regrets are apart of every person."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"Indeed." He walks off toward the market, leaving the fleeing Hunters alone.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
They find the Jester, clawing at the mask on their face, a sickle and dagger on the ground in front of them, covered in blood.
They look at Stroth through the black tilted glasses of the mask, twisting a gauge "Do you want to be part of an experiment?"
They find the bandana wearing criminal, taking the gold the person had on them.
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.)
Thirteen is researching crucibles in the library.
Mauric is getting the last few things figured out before the wedding.
Loriche is retrieving firewood from the outermost part of the woods, near the inn.
Suhou is swimming around in their river.
Riotan is aimlessly wandering around town.
This is just Jobah619 again btw
Protect trans kids
Though you rested, you were not content to remain. And so you just had to seek me out.
"They are? I don't have any... other than with Kite." Their eyes get dark and the air gets heavy.
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.)
Stealth for the Woman: 27
Perception for the Hunters:
12
11
12
Roll stealth for KK. Whichever team has the highest roll wins, regardless of the amount of high or low rolls.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
The moment he leaves, Don begins to follow after the Hunters without their knowing.
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.)
Allison blinks, her body moving on her own. She drops down beside him, checking him over to see if he is the one bleeding.
"For what?" She asks, tilting her head.
Julian watches for a moment, blinking, backing up.
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