“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*A bit angsty, but I can't really complain given my own writing. In my personal and subjective opinion, there's not much substance here. About half of it is just visceral descriptions, which, while cool, need to be used sparingly to keep it fresh. Like actual pain, it requires time between the lashes so that the new sting doesn't dull the audience to the new. You could also have had it escalate dramatically with each bad thing he experienced, or have told a developing narrative with each line. If you want to keep it short, keep it quick.*
*Overall, I don't get much emotional impact, but maybe it's just my current mental state. Not amazing, but not terrible either.*
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*A bit angsty, but I can't really complain given my own writing. In my personal and subjective opinion, there's not much substance here. About half of it is just visceral descriptions, which, while cool, need to be used sparingly to keep it fresh. Like actual pain, it requires time between the lashes so that the new sting doesn't dull the audience to the new. You could also have had it escalate dramatically with each bad thing he experienced, or have told a developing narrative with each line. If you want to keep it short, keep it quick.*
*Overall, I don't get much emotional impact, but maybe it's just my current mental state. Not amazing, but not terrible either.*
*Hmm, I see, thank you. I’ll take it to heart and try to do better under this context next time.*
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*A bit angsty, but I can't really complain given my own writing. In my personal and subjective opinion, there's not much substance here. About half of it is just visceral descriptions, which, while cool, need to be used sparingly to keep it fresh. Like actual pain, it requires time between the lashes so that the new sting doesn't dull the audience to the new. You could also have had it escalate dramatically with each bad thing he experienced, or have told a developing narrative with each line. If you want to keep it short, keep it quick.*
*Overall, I don't get much emotional impact, but maybe it's just my current mental state. Not amazing, but not terrible either.*
*Hmm, I see, thank you. I’ll take it to heart and try to do better under this context next time.*
*Sorry if that was overly critical there. I was trying to give the best advice I could.*
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*A bit angsty, but I can't really complain given my own writing. In my personal and subjective opinion, there's not much substance here. About half of it is just visceral descriptions, which, while cool, need to be used sparingly to keep it fresh. Like actual pain, it requires time between the lashes so that the new sting doesn't dull the audience to the new. You could also have had it escalate dramatically with each bad thing he experienced, or have told a developing narrative with each line. If you want to keep it short, keep it quick.*
*Overall, I don't get much emotional impact, but maybe it's just my current mental state. Not amazing, but not terrible either.*
*Hmm, I see, thank you. I’ll take it to heart and try to do better under this context next time.*
*Sorry if that was overly critical there. I was trying to give the best advice I could.*
*No no no, it’s perfectly fine. I really enjoy the advice, it’s what I need to improve after all. Without I’d be much worse than I am now.*
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*A bit angsty, but I can't really complain given my own writing. In my personal and subjective opinion, there's not much substance here. About half of it is just visceral descriptions, which, while cool, need to be used sparingly to keep it fresh. Like actual pain, it requires time between the lashes so that the new sting doesn't dull the audience to the new. You could also have had it escalate dramatically with each bad thing he experienced, or have told a developing narrative with each line. If you want to keep it short, keep it quick.*
*Overall, I don't get much emotional impact, but maybe it's just my current mental state. Not amazing, but not terrible either.*
*Hmm, I see, thank you. I’ll take it to heart and try to do better under this context next time.*
*Sorry if that was overly critical there. I was trying to give the best advice I could.*
*No no no, it’s perfectly fine. I really enjoy the advice, it’s what I need to improve after all. Without I’d be much worse than I am now.*
*Alright, cool. If you have any criticisms of my work, feel free to be open with it. It doesn't have to be technical, even an "I did not like X" is greatly appreciated.*
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*really like it*
Riotan sees this odd newcomer and arches an eyebrow, following after them. He flicks out his tongue to taste the emotional effluence of Thane’s mind on the air.
The taste is nearly overwhelming. If Riotan weren’t a creature of such things himself his mind would have easily collapsed under the pressure, under a fraction of the pain. Thane moves with steps he doesn’t want to take, his bones crunching and repairing with every one. *Thane is the typical Gentle Giant turned to evil.*
Rio is very happy about this, since he is the Misery Eater after all. He continues following Thane, feeding off of his torment.
After a while Thane does notice. Stopping in the middle of the street before beginning to approach Rio, heavy steps getting heavier as they get closer.
Riotan also stops, watching him approach with interest, wondering how exactly he’ll react.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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.
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*really like it*
Riotan sees this odd newcomer and arches an eyebrow, following after them. He flicks out his tongue to taste the emotional effluence of Thane’s mind on the air.
The taste is nearly overwhelming. If Riotan weren’t a creature of such things himself his mind would have easily collapsed under the pressure, under a fraction of the pain. Thane moves with steps he doesn’t want to take, his bones crunching and repairing with every one. *Thane is the typical Gentle Giant turned to evil.*
Rio is very happy about this, since he is the Misery Eater after all. He continues following Thane, feeding off of his torment.
After a while Thane does notice. Stopping in the middle of the street before beginning to approach Rio, heavy steps getting heavier as they get closer.
Riotan also stops, watching him approach with interest, wondering how exactly he’ll react.
Thane stands over Riotan, one hand reaching up to them, putting his hand on their head, his grip heavy. Grapple:36
Thirteen is preparing a lesson on the Negative Plane at the bar with a cup of tea. The crescents of Transcendence have become more defined in his eyes, but he seems genuinely happy to be passing knowledge on to the next generation of magic users.
Mauric is cooking a slab of mimic meat that keeps turning to glass or wood for a second, prompting Mauric to stab it with the spatula to change it back.
Loriche is gathering sulfur-rich rocks.
Riotan is out on the town with no particular goal.
*Hmmmmmm do I want to use the character I made specifically to interact with Thirteen or anyone else...*
*use whoever you want for whichever of my characters you want*
Thirteen gets the feeling that the Abyssal Plane has somehow leaked into this plane. The smell of rotting flesh, cave dirt, and ichor permeating from a cave entrance. A carriage, made from woven spider silk, mushroom wood, and glittering gold is at the mouth of it. Two large spiders with eyes as red as blood pull the carriage. The door to the carriage opens as a drow woman, taller than most her kind, steps out.
She is easily 6'1. She has dark grey skin, the same pointed ears all elves or drow have but down turned towards the name of her neck, straight long white hair like an icy waterfall, and eyes with whitish-blue irises. She wears the staple dress of a drown matron, a long, mermaid style black dress with motifs of spiders across it in silver thread. She has a belt on that has a tome of sorts attached to it. She holds a cigarette between her fingers as she curses in elvish at a what appears to be a map in her other hand. She takes a drag of the cigarette, tapping the end. Ashes fall to the ground, purple in color with embers of blue.
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
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*A bit angsty, but I can't really complain given my own writing. In my personal and subjective opinion, there's not much substance here. About half of it is just visceral descriptions, which, while cool, need to be used sparingly to keep it fresh. Like actual pain, it requires time between the lashes so that the new sting doesn't dull the audience to the new. You could also have had it escalate dramatically with each bad thing he experienced, or have told a developing narrative with each line. If you want to keep it short, keep it quick.*
*Overall, I don't get much emotional impact, but maybe it's just my current mental state. Not amazing, but not terrible either.*
*Hmm, I see, thank you. I’ll take it to heart and try to do better under this context next time.*
*Sorry if that was overly critical there. I was trying to give the best advice I could.*
*No no no, it’s perfectly fine. I really enjoy the advice, it’s what I need to improve after all. Without I’d be much worse than I am now.*
*Alright, cool. If you have any criticisms of my work, feel free to be open with it. It doesn't have to be technical, even an "I did not like X" is greatly appreciated.*
*Trust me dude, I would if I can’t find any flaws in your writing style. I’m just watching and learning from you dude, along with all the other writers here.*
Thirteen is preparing a lesson on the Negative Plane at the bar with a cup of tea. The crescents of Transcendence have become more defined in his eyes, but he seems genuinely happy to be passing knowledge on to the next generation of magic users.
Mauric is cooking a slab of mimic meat that keeps turning to glass or wood for a second, prompting Mauric to stab it with the spatula to change it back.
Loriche is gathering sulfur-rich rocks.
Riotan is out on the town with no particular goal.
*Hmmmmmm do I want to use the character I made specifically to interact with Thirteen or anyone else...*
*use whoever you want for whichever of my characters you want*
Thirteen gets the feeling that the Abyssal Plane has somehow leaked into this plane. The smell of rotting flesh, cave dirt, and ichor permeating from a cave entrance. A carriage, made from woven spider silk, mushroom wood, and glittering gold is at the mouth of it. Two large spiders with eyes as red as blood pull the carriage. The door to the carriage opens as a drow woman, taller than most her kind, steps out.
She is easily 6'1. She has dark grey skin, the same pointed ears all elves or drow have but down turned towards the name of her neck, straight long white hair like an icy waterfall, and eyes with whitish-blue irises. She wears the staple dress of a drown matron, a long, mermaid style black dress with motifs of spiders across it in silver thread. She has a belt on that has a tome of sorts attached to it. She holds a cigarette between her fingers as she curses in elvish at a what appears to be a map in her other hand. She takes a drag of the cigarette, tapping the end. Ashes fall to the ground, purple in color with embers of blue.
Thirteen sighs. “Just one peaceful morning is all I ask for…” He laments quietly to himself, then takes up his journal and flail and goes to see what the disturbance is.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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.
Thirteen is preparing a lesson on the Negative Plane at the bar with a cup of tea. The crescents of Transcendence have become more defined in his eyes, but he seems genuinely happy to be passing knowledge on to the next generation of magic users.
Mauric is cooking a slab of mimic meat that keeps turning to glass or wood for a second, prompting Mauric to stab it with the spatula to change it back.
Loriche is gathering sulfur-rich rocks.
Riotan is out on the town with no particular goal.
*Hmmmmmm do I want to use the character I made specifically to interact with Thirteen or anyone else...*
*use whoever you want for whichever of my characters you want*
Thirteen gets the feeling that the Abyssal Plane has somehow leaked into this plane. The smell of rotting flesh, cave dirt, and ichor permeating from a cave entrance. A carriage, made from woven spider silk, mushroom wood, and glittering gold is at the mouth of it. Two large spiders with eyes as red as blood pull the carriage. The door to the carriage opens as a drow woman, taller than most her kind, steps out.
She is easily 6'1. She has dark grey skin, the same pointed ears all elves or drow have but down turned towards the name of her neck, straight long white hair like an icy waterfall, and eyes with whitish-blue irises. She wears the staple dress of a drown matron, a long, mermaid style black dress with motifs of spiders across it in silver thread. She has a belt on that has a tome of sorts attached to it. She holds a cigarette between her fingers as she curses in elvish at a what appears to be a map in her other hand. She takes a drag of the cigarette, tapping the end. Ashes fall to the ground, purple in color with embers of blue.
Thirteen sighs. “Just one peaceful morning is all I ask for…” He laments quietly to himself, then takes up his journal and flail and goes to see what the disturbance is.
She turns towards the spiders, sighing. She pets their heads with the affection that only a pet owner has and grumbles.
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*really like it*
Riotan sees this odd newcomer and arches an eyebrow, following after them. He flicks out his tongue to taste the emotional effluence of Thane’s mind on the air.
The taste is nearly overwhelming. If Riotan weren’t a creature of such things himself his mind would have easily collapsed under the pressure, under a fraction of the pain. Thane moves with steps he doesn’t want to take, his bones crunching and repairing with every one. *Thane is the typical Gentle Giant turned to evil.*
Rio is very happy about this, since he is the Misery Eater after all. He continues following Thane, feeding off of his torment.
After a while Thane does notice. Stopping in the middle of the street before beginning to approach Rio, heavy steps getting heavier as they get closer.
Riotan also stops, watching him approach with interest, wondering how exactly he’ll react.
Thane stands over Riotan, one hand reaching up to them, putting his hand on their head, his grip heavy. Grapple:33
Thane can easily grab onto Riotan’s head, but the runes on his scales sear a vivid vermillion, delivering a mild burn. You take 10 fire damage. Riotan is rather unimpressed. “That’s your best move?” He asks.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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.
Thirteen is preparing a lesson on the Negative Plane at the bar with a cup of tea. The crescents of Transcendence have become more defined in his eyes, but he seems genuinely happy to be passing knowledge on to the next generation of magic users.
Mauric is cooking a slab of mimic meat that keeps turning to glass or wood for a second, prompting Mauric to stab it with the spatula to change it back.
Loriche is gathering sulfur-rich rocks.
Riotan is out on the town with no particular goal.
*Hmmmmmm do I want to use the character I made specifically to interact with Thirteen or anyone else...*
*use whoever you want for whichever of my characters you want*
Thirteen gets the feeling that the Abyssal Plane has somehow leaked into this plane. The smell of rotting flesh, cave dirt, and ichor permeating from a cave entrance. A carriage, made from woven spider silk, mushroom wood, and glittering gold is at the mouth of it. Two large spiders with eyes as red as blood pull the carriage. The door to the carriage opens as a drow woman, taller than most her kind, steps out.
She is easily 6'1. She has dark grey skin, the same pointed ears all elves or drow have but down turned towards the name of her neck, straight long white hair like an icy waterfall, and eyes with whitish-blue irises. She wears the staple dress of a drown matron, a long, mermaid style black dress with motifs of spiders across it in silver thread. She has a belt on that has a tome of sorts attached to it. She holds a cigarette between her fingers as she curses in elvish at a what appears to be a map in her other hand. She takes a drag of the cigarette, tapping the end. Ashes fall to the ground, purple in color with embers of blue.
Thirteen sighs. “Just one peaceful morning is all I ask for…” He laments quietly to himself, then takes up his journal and flail and goes to see what the disturbance is.
She turns towards the spiders, sighing. She pets their heads with the affection that only a pet owner has and grumbles.
“Madame, may I inquire as to the reason for your passage through this land?” He calls to her.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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.
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
“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.*
*Hmm, moving this if anyone wants to see it.*
*really like it*
Riotan sees this odd newcomer and arches an eyebrow, following after them. He flicks out his tongue to taste the emotional effluence of Thane’s mind on the air.
The taste is nearly overwhelming. If Riotan weren’t a creature of such things himself his mind would have easily collapsed under the pressure, under a fraction of the pain. Thane moves with steps he doesn’t want to take, his bones crunching and repairing with every one. *Thane is the typical Gentle Giant turned to evil.*
Rio is very happy about this, since he is the Misery Eater after all. He continues following Thane, feeding off of his torment.
After a while Thane does notice. Stopping in the middle of the street before beginning to approach Rio, heavy steps getting heavier as they get closer.
Riotan also stops, watching him approach with interest, wondering how exactly he’ll react.
Thane stands over Riotan, one hand reaching up to them, putting his hand on their head, his grip heavy. Grapple:33
Thane can easily grab onto Riotan’s head, but the runes on his scales sear a vivid vermillion, delivering a mild burn. You take 12 fire damage. Riotan is rather unimpressed. “That’s your best move?” He asks.
He doesn’t flinch from the burn, his flesh simply sizzling as his own infernal runes appear along his form. Dex save or take 10. He begins walking again, carrying Riotan by the head, dragging him along with him silently.
Thirteen is preparing a lesson on the Negative Plane at the bar with a cup of tea. The crescents of Transcendence have become more defined in his eyes, but he seems genuinely happy to be passing knowledge on to the next generation of magic users.
Mauric is cooking a slab of mimic meat that keeps turning to glass or wood for a second, prompting Mauric to stab it with the spatula to change it back.
Loriche is gathering sulfur-rich rocks.
Riotan is out on the town with no particular goal.
*Hmmmmmm do I want to use the character I made specifically to interact with Thirteen or anyone else...*
*use whoever you want for whichever of my characters you want*
Thirteen gets the feeling that the Abyssal Plane has somehow leaked into this plane. The smell of rotting flesh, cave dirt, and ichor permeating from a cave entrance. A carriage, made from woven spider silk, mushroom wood, and glittering gold is at the mouth of it. Two large spiders with eyes as red as blood pull the carriage. The door to the carriage opens as a drow woman, taller than most her kind, steps out.
She is easily 6'1. She has dark grey skin, the same pointed ears all elves or drow have but down turned towards the name of her neck, straight long white hair like an icy waterfall, and eyes with whitish-blue irises. She wears the staple dress of a drown matron, a long, mermaid style black dress with motifs of spiders across it in silver thread. She has a belt on that has a tome of sorts attached to it. She holds a cigarette between her fingers as she curses in elvish at a what appears to be a map in her other hand. She takes a drag of the cigarette, tapping the end. Ashes fall to the ground, purple in color with embers of blue.
Thirteen sighs. “Just one peaceful morning is all I ask for…” He laments quietly to himself, then takes up his journal and flail and goes to see what the disturbance is.
She turns towards the spiders, sighing. She pets their heads with the affection that only a pet owner has and grumbles.
“Madame, may I inquire as to the reason for your passage through this land?” He calls to her.
She whips around, pulling out a small, hand-held pistol, pointing it at him "Who're you?"
Mauric is cooking a slab of mimic meat that keeps turning to glass or wood for a second, prompting Mauric to stab it with the spatula to change it back.
Loriche is gathering sulfur-rich rocks in the forest.
Suhou is striding through a barren part of the fields east of the town, a little bit of divine light seeping into the ground at their every step.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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.
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*A bit angsty, but I can't really complain given my own writing. In my personal and subjective opinion, there's not much substance here. About half of it is just visceral descriptions, which, while cool, need to be used sparingly to keep it fresh. Like actual pain, it requires time between the lashes so that the new sting doesn't dull the audience to the new. You could also have had it escalate dramatically with each bad thing he experienced, or have told a developing narrative with each line. If you want to keep it short, keep it quick.*
*Overall, I don't get much emotional impact, but maybe it's just my current mental state. Not amazing, but not terrible either.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Hmm, I see, thank you. I’ll take it to heart and try to do better under this context next time.*
*Sorry if that was overly critical there. I was trying to give the best advice I could.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*No no no, it’s perfectly fine. I really enjoy the advice, it’s what I need to improve after all. Without I’d be much worse than I am now.*
*Alright, cool. If you have any criticisms of my work, feel free to be open with it. It doesn't have to be technical, even an "I did not like X" is greatly appreciated.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Riotan also stops, watching him approach with interest, wondering how exactly he’ll react.
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.
Thane stands over Riotan, one hand reaching up to them, putting his hand on their head, his grip heavy. Grapple:36
Thirteen gets the feeling that the Abyssal Plane has somehow leaked into this plane. The smell of rotting flesh, cave dirt, and ichor permeating from a cave entrance. A carriage, made from woven spider silk, mushroom wood, and glittering gold is at the mouth of it. Two large spiders with eyes as red as blood pull the carriage. The door to the carriage opens as a drow woman, taller than most her kind, steps out.
She is easily 6'1. She has dark grey skin, the same pointed ears all elves or drow have but down turned towards the name of her neck, straight long white hair like an icy waterfall, and eyes with whitish-blue irises. She wears the staple dress of a drown matron, a long, mermaid style black dress with motifs of spiders across it in silver thread. She has a belt on that has a tome of sorts attached to it. She holds a cigarette between her fingers as she curses in elvish at a what appears to be a map in her other hand. She takes a drag of the cigarette, tapping the end. Ashes fall to the ground, purple in color with embers of blue.
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
(Hi Lawrence)
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
*Trust me dude, I would if I can’t find any flaws in your writing style. I’m just watching and learning from you dude, along with all the other writers here.*
*Anyone else want to roleplay?*
Thirteen sighs. “Just one peaceful morning is all I ask for…” He laments quietly to himself, then takes up his journal and flail and goes to see what the disturbance is.
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.
She turns towards the spiders, sighing. She pets their heads with the affection that only a pet owner has and grumbles.
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
Thane can easily grab onto Riotan’s head, but the runes on his scales sear a vivid vermillion, delivering a mild burn. You take 10 fire damage. Riotan is rather unimpressed. “That’s your best move?” He asks.
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.
“Madame, may I inquire as to the reason for your passage through this land?” He calls to her.
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.
(you want to rp jobah?)
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 doesn’t flinch from the burn, his flesh simply sizzling as his own infernal runes appear along his form. Dex save or take 10. He begins walking again, carrying Riotan by the head, dragging him along with him silently.
She whips around, pulling out a small, hand-held pistol, pointing it at him "Who're 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
*Hello?*
*sure*
Mauric is cooking a slab of mimic meat that keeps turning to glass or wood for a second, prompting Mauric to stab it with the spatula to change it back.
Loriche is gathering sulfur-rich rocks in the forest.
Suhou is striding through a barren part of the fields east of the town, a little bit of divine light seeping into the ground at their every step.
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.