Lord's Rest Inn

Quote from Baalzeboop >>

Quote from Baalzeboop >>

*Have a cutscene for the Cursebutcher. I was planning on it being an intro, something to interact with, but I kind of changed my mind at the end.*

Out at the abattoir, the packing plant seems to have grown. Not as in "they built an addition," but as in "this thing is not only alive but malevolent." The Cursebutcher sits outside of the building on an old office chair he dragged from -where else?- the manager's office.

Can't help but feel like you belong here.

He closes his eyes, not looking at the cigarette butts and broken bottles around him.

It's what God likes about you, Porter.

He exhales the smoke, facing the sky so as not to see the vampire at his feet, drained of all their blood.

I'll have you know that there's nothing worse than a malformation.

His face sinks to his hands, his lit blunt hanging loosely between his fingers.

You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you.
Your father doesn't hate you... he's just a little stressed.
You talk to that boy about God, as if He would love something like that.
Don't lie, your father is a wonderful man, he would never talk to you that way.
I heard you talking to my wife... what did you say, you animal.
You don't know what you're talking about. Wait, what are you...
...
...

Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter?

Cursebutcher crushes his lit cigarette in his hand before throwing it to the mud. "I hope it hurt."

 *I just want to make sure people had a chance to read this, I'm not sure if it got buried.*

*Also, it's deliberately ambiguous, so keep that in mind going in.*

 *It was buried but I personally like it.*

Quote from Former_Queen_Yvonne >>

Quote from Baalzeboop >>

*Have a cutscene for the Cursebutcher. I was planning on it being an intro, something to interact with, but I kind of changed my mind at the end.*

Out at the abattoir, the packing plant seems to have grown. Not as in "they built an addition," but as in "this thing is not only alive but malevolent." The Cursebutcher sits outside of the building on an old office chair he dragged from -where else?- the manager's office.

Can't help but feel like you belong here.

He closes his eyes, not looking at the cigarette butts and broken bottles around him.

It's what God likes about you, Porter.

He exhales the smoke, facing the sky so as not to see the vampire at his feet, drained of all their blood.

I'll have you know that there's nothing worse than a malformation.

His face sinks to his hands, his lit blunt hanging loosely between his fingers.

You are a danger to yourself and everyone around you.
Your father doesn't hate you... he's just a little stressed.
You talk to that boy about God, as if He would love something like that.
Don't lie, your father is a wonderful man, he would never talk to you that way.
I heard you talking to my wife... what did you say, you animal.
You don't know what you're talking about. Wait, what are you...
...
...

Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter? Promise not to leave me, Porter?

Cursebutcher crushes his lit cigarette in his hand before throwing it to the mud. "I hope it hurt."

*Ooh, how intriguing... It's very well written! I love how it makes me ponder the smaller details.*

 *Thank you! I love subtlety, even if I can't do it very well. I usually go for obvious exposition dumps, but I wanted to try telling his story through disconnected lines and environmental details.*

*Goodnight, friends!*

*Ima do a proper intro for Thane.*

 “Heaven has no room for sinners with noble hearts.” These are the last words Thane can remember before the pain. Before he could hear his heart beat throbbing in his ear. Before he could feel his blood in his veins. Before he felt his flesh and scales being torn off of his body, reattached and torn again. Before his bones were shattered to nothing and repaired over the span of years, just to simply to broken again once he was no longer used to the pain. That’s what he had to experience until his mind of muddled to nothing more than the most simple of thoughts and the echoes of the pain he once was forced into. He wanders into the town under the orders of his forced masters, his body a disheveled excuse from what it once was. His appearance is basically Bob from Overwatch is he was an undead Dragonborn with a greataxe. He is held under the magical grasp of a few simple words “No Gods. No Lords. Only Men and Blood.” *What do yall think? Specifically I want to know how well I did in Baalze’s eyes.*

*Bleh.. allergies.*

Quote from Baalzeboop >>

*Goodnight, friends!*

 *SON OF A [GP]*

*Is anybody here who still wants to rp with anyone? Please, I spent so long cleaning and making that intro.*