"Well, I've got some bottles of it. All pigs', sadly. Humanoid blood is hard to get without causing slowly building mass hysteria, which does not further my goals at the moment." He slowly stands, picking up his chainsaw with one hand as he finishes his sausage. "Luckily this place has vampires."
"That works for me. Mass hysteria doesn't do much to benefit me either." She fully emerges from the shadows. "On another note, how should I refer to you? A name, a title, something else?"
"Cursebutcher. I'd give my 'real' name, but it's more of a dangerous artifact than this abattoir is." He waves for her to come with him as he heads into the meat-packing plant. Rats scurry away from his presence. There are no lights, no pigs, and no employees, yet the meat is being cut and packaged as usual. The corruption is stronger in here.
"It's nice to meet you, Cursebutcher. I am the Seer- likewise, my name is one best not known." She follows him, looking around the plant, seemingly reveling in the presence of corruption.
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)
He hears the chuffing of a gently running chainsaw and sees gleaming red eyes in the dark. The Cursebutcher is slowly walking toward him, saw and mouth drizzling blood from a fresh kill.
He looks up to them, first waving at the person, then seeing the blood and becoming less friendly, more concerned. They try to still put up a friendly face, not knowing the reason for why they have blood on them just yet “Hello, haven’t seen you around, I’m the Jester.”
"Cursebutcher. I felt like someone needed a distraction." The man's presence, despite the blood, is oddly soothing. No need for hysterics, Rowan. It's just a guy. "I hope you don't mind my mess. Hard times all around, you know."
He feels the soothing presence wash over him, taking a deep breath as he stops shivering “I don’t mind anything. I’ve seen worse, and it doesn’t look like you’re killing anyone right now.” He pats next to him, gesturing for them to sit next to him.
"Cursebutcher. I'd give my 'real' name, but it's more of a dangerous artifact than this abattoir is." He waves for her to come with him as he heads into the meat-packing plant. Rats scurry away from his presence. There are no lights, no pigs, and no employees, yet the meat is being cut and packaged as usual. The corruption is stronger in here.
"It's nice to meet you, Cursebutcher. I am the Seer- likewise, my name is one best not known." She follows him, looking around the plant, seemingly reveling in the presence of corruption.
He leads her to an ancient industrial freezer. This place seems to be from the Gilded Age of America, about the same time as the Victorian Age in the UK. The chiller is barely functional, not even cold enough to keep ice cream properly solid. He pulls out some bottles that likely once contained milk, now filled and splattered with gore. "I've got a stove if you prefer it hot."
"Cursebutcher. I'd give my 'real' name, but it's more of a dangerous artifact than this abattoir is." He waves for her to come with him as he heads into the meat-packing plant. Rats scurry away from his presence. There are no lights, no pigs, and no employees, yet the meat is being cut and packaged as usual. The corruption is stronger in here.
"It's nice to meet you, Cursebutcher. I am the Seer- likewise, my name is one best not known." She follows him, looking around the plant, seemingly reveling in the presence of corruption.
He leads her to an ancient industrial freezer. This place seems to be from the Gilded Age of America, about the same time as the Victorian Age in the UK. The chiller is barely functional, not even cold enough to keep ice cream properly solid. He pulls out some bottles that likely once contained milk, now filled and splattered with gore. "I've got a stove if you prefer it hot."
She gratefully takes one of the bottles if it is offered. "No, I prefer cold. Thank you."
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)
"Cursebutcher. I felt like someone needed a distraction." The man's presence, despite the blood, is oddly soothing. No need for hysterics, Rowan. It's just a guy. "I hope you don't mind my mess. Hard times all around, you know."
He feels the soothing presence wash over him, taking a deep breath as he stops shivering “I don’t mind anything. I’ve seen worse, and it doesn’t look like you’re killing anyone right now.” He pats next to him, gesturing for them to sit next to him.
He walks forward into the firelight, clearly heavily wounded despite his posture showing no pain or discomfort. His bones are clearly visible in some places, and he is not bleeding very much. "Thank you, Jester. I've been having trouble with the locals. Vampires, Spectres, demons, the works. Consider me the supernatural HOA in a sense." He sits down next to Rowan.
He leads her to an ancient industrial freezer. This place seems to be from the Gilded Age of America, about the same time as the Victorian Age in the UK. The chiller is barely functional, not even cold enough to keep ice cream properly solid. He pulls out some bottles that likely once contained milk, now filled and splattered with gore. "I've got a stove if you prefer it hot."
She gratefully takes one of the bottles if it is offered. "No, I prefer cold. Thank you."
She can feel his visceral essence rubbing off on the bottle as it leaves his hand. "It's hard to keep it from coagulating, but there are enough chemicals and curses in this place that it hardly matters what reality or even unreality normally dictates."
It may have been apparent before, but now it's undeniable: this man embodies this carnage, the possession this power has over this land.
He leads her to an ancient industrial freezer. This place seems to be from the Gilded Age of America, about the same time as the Victorian Age in the UK. The chiller is barely functional, not even cold enough to keep ice cream properly solid. He pulls out some bottles that likely once contained milk, now filled and splattered with gore. "I've got a stove if you prefer it hot."
She gratefully takes one of the bottles if it is offered. "No, I prefer cold. Thank you."
She can feel his visceral essence rubbing off on the bottle as it leaves his hand. "It's hard to keep it from coagulating, but there are enough chemicals and curses in this place that it hardly matters what reality or even unreality normally dictates."
It may have been apparent before, but now it's undeniable: this man embodies this carnage, the possession this power has over this land.
"What is real or not does tend to kill the fun of doing the impossible." She takes a sip from the blood. From the way the shadows seem to bend around her- how they part where she steps, how they darken upon meeting her gaze- it's readily apparent that she is the cold darkness incarnate. A personification of the absence of light itself- as paradoxical as a being born of the absence of something is.
"I sense we are of similar nature, though of different domains."
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)
"Cursebutcher. I felt like someone needed a distraction." The man's presence, despite the blood, is oddly soothing. No need for hysterics, Rowan. It's just a guy. "I hope you don't mind my mess. Hard times all around, you know."
He feels the soothing presence wash over him, taking a deep breath as he stops shivering “I don’t mind anything. I’ve seen worse, and it doesn’t look like you’re killing anyone right now.” He pats next to him, gesturing for them to sit next to him.
He walks forward into the firelight, clearly heavily wounded despite his posture showing no pain or discomfort. His bones are clearly visible in some places, and he is not bleeding very much. "Thank you, Jester. I've been having trouble with the locals. Vampires, Spectres, demons, the works. Consider me the supernatural HOA in a sense." He sits down next to Rowan.
He smiles “Spectres you say? Vampires? Demons? This town is apparently much more than I thought. I thought I was the strangest thing here other than the occasional traveler, I think I’ll stay out of all of that. You can handle it.” He chuckles a little bit.
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)
Some of the forest around where the Fell Manor once stood is dying, the plant life withering and turning grey. The corruption doesn't cover a large area, but it does seem to slowly yet steadily be spreading.
Traitor is once again sharpening her talons, preparing for battle.
KK is stitching together parts of other (thankfully inanimate) mannequins to try and visualize some of her designs for her ultimate goal.
This seems very interesting
A black and white harpy hops up behind her
She stops, her head turning around to face them while still stitching cloth appendages together. "Oh, hello there."
*desc?* He squaks "Hi! What'cha workin on?"
*KK is a cloth mannequin wearing a long white coat with several paint and clay stains all over it over an emerald green sweater and pants. A pair of radio antennae extend from the back of her head, and her speech sounds as though it's coming through an old radio speaker.*
"I'm putting together concepts for when I make myself a new body." She states rather matter-of-factly while attaching another arm to her mock-up design.
"New body? Sounds a bit like someone my boss helped a while ago"
"Yep! I'm still figuring out the general design, though." She looks back at the incomplete heap, pausing for a moment, before removing another arm from the design and setting it aside.
*Sure! I'm up for continuing this!*
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)
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
"It's nice to meet you, Cursebutcher. I am the Seer- likewise, my name is one best not known." She follows him, looking around the plant, seemingly reveling in the presence of corruption.
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)
He feels the soothing presence wash over him, taking a deep breath as he stops shivering “I don’t mind anything. I’ve seen worse, and it doesn’t look like you’re killing anyone right now.” He pats next to him, gesturing for them to sit next to him.
He leads her to an ancient industrial freezer. This place seems to be from the Gilded Age of America, about the same time as the Victorian Age in the UK. The chiller is barely functional, not even cold enough to keep ice cream properly solid. He pulls out some bottles that likely once contained milk, now filled and splattered with gore. "I've got a stove if you prefer it hot."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
She gratefully takes one of the bottles if it is offered. "No, I prefer cold. Thank you."
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)
He walks forward into the firelight, clearly heavily wounded despite his posture showing no pain or discomfort. His bones are clearly visible in some places, and he is not bleeding very much. "Thank you, Jester. I've been having trouble with the locals. Vampires, Spectres, demons, the works. Consider me the supernatural HOA in a sense." He sits down next to Rowan.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
She can feel his visceral essence rubbing off on the bottle as it leaves his hand. "It's hard to keep it from coagulating, but there are enough chemicals and curses in this place that it hardly matters what reality or even unreality normally dictates."
It may have been apparent before, but now it's undeniable: this man embodies this carnage, the possession this power has over this land.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*9 minutes before I go, guys. This is fun, though, so I hope we can continue tomorrow.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"What is real or not does tend to kill the fun of doing the impossible." She takes a sip from the blood. From the way the shadows seem to bend around her- how they part where she steps, how they darken upon meeting her gaze- it's readily apparent that she is the cold darkness incarnate. A personification of the absence of light itself- as paradoxical as a being born of the absence of something is.
"I sense we are of similar nature, though of different domains."
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)
He smiles “Spectres you say? Vampires? Demons? This town is apparently much more than I thought. I thought I was the strangest thing here other than the occasional traveler, I think I’ll stay out of all of that. You can handle it.” He chuckles a little bit.
*I hope we can continue this as well. I agree- this is really fun!*
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)
*rp?* wanna continue, yvonne?*
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)
*Sure! I'm up for continuing this!*
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)
(anyone on?)
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
*once you get skilled enough with regular expressions, there's only one thing you can't match for: your sanity.*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Morning y'all. It's either I'm hallucinating or my house fridge has no breakfast food whatsoever.*
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
*Could be either, but any food is breakfast food if you put your mind to it*
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.
*I'm about ten seconds away to eating a jar of pickles for breakfast.*
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
*my sister has done that multiple times*
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.
*I'm scared now-*
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
*you should be*
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.