Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
"You do know that those don't help us, don't you, Father?" A man says from behind him.
Luciano turns around, raising a brow "Hello my child, how art thou?"
The Flesh Son is rendering a deers skin into usable armor for itself. It's careful to use every piece of the deer. Bones, guts, antlers, eyes, organs, flesh, meat, hooves, tail, everything is used and nothing goes to waste.
Home is in the basement of the Guilt House, talking to one of the bodies which are propped up in a chair, writhing about. "Listen man, you gotta be cool. Can't be screaming bloody murder when you aren't actually real. Makes people think I'm insane or something or have somebody locked downstairs. I mean... You can just teleport on free will." He chuckles.
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
Until they dont. A ghostly shade of a creature rises from the nearby grave
Luciano looks up and smiles warmly "Hello my child.."
The shade looks around. "arrr... where be i?"
"The Material Realm. Land of the living I should say." He chuckles.
The Flesh Son is rendering a deers skin into usable armor for itself. It's careful to use every piece of the deer. Bones, guts, antlers, eyes, organs, flesh, meat, hooves, tail, everything is used and nothing goes to waste.
Home is in the basement of the Guilt House, talking to one of the bodies which are propped up in a chair, writhing about. "Listen man, you gotta be cool. Can't be screaming bloody murder when you aren't actually real. Makes people think I'm insane or something or have somebody locked downstairs. I mean... You can just teleport on free will." He chuckles.
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
Until they dont. A ghostly shade of a creature rises from the nearby grave
Luciano looks up and smiles warmly "Hello my child.."
The shade looks around. "arrr... where be i?"
"The Material Realm. Land of the living I should say." He chuckles.
"I see. A simple premise, but an interesting one. Do you have any particular plans for it?"
"My plan is to, eventually, transfer my consciousness to it. Other than that, my plans are just to continue as I always have... with nothing able to take it away... for all of time, possibly."
"What a nice dream. You certainly don't deserve something that beautiful. But I've never been in the business of deserving or undeserving. Come to the old workshop. I've got something to show you." In her mind's eye, she can see the yellow hotel that has appeared in the woods, surrounded by flaming automatons made in the image of people she knows; Issac, the Traitor, even the Seer.
"Got it. I'll see you there." And with that, KK begins heading over to the woods where the hotel is.
*I gtg for a little while, but I'll be back to continue this soon.*
The hotel is utterly massive, and surrounded by charred and blackened land. The doors hang open, old, welcome, and nostalgic. Burning machines shamble, walk, skip, dance, and trudge about, each with its own personality and design. Many of them have trapped fey cooking inside of them.
*Aight, I'll wait for you. Thank you for the warning.*
The Flesh Son is rendering a deers skin into usable armor for itself. It's careful to use every piece of the deer. Bones, guts, antlers, eyes, organs, flesh, meat, hooves, tail, everything is used and nothing goes to waste.
Home is in the basement of the Guilt House, talking to one of the bodies which are propped up in a chair, writhing about. "Listen man, you gotta be cool. Can't be screaming bloody murder when you aren't actually real. Makes people think I'm insane or something or have somebody locked downstairs. I mean... You can just teleport on free will." He chuckles.
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
Until they dont. A ghostly shade of a creature rises from the nearby grave
Luciano looks up and smiles warmly "Hello my child.."
The shade looks around. "arrr... where be i?"
"The Material Realm. Land of the living I should say." He chuckles.
"And where be me adversary Scrumbeard?"
"If you are dead, my child, then to shall he be." He tilts his head.
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
"You do know that those don't help us, don't you, Father?" A man says from behind him.
Luciano turns around, raising a brow "Hello my child, how art thou?"
Father Luciano sees a completely skeletonized man, though he's quite sharply dressed, and still has his longe, blonde hair. "Hello, Father." The man says with an air of arrogance. On his back rests a weapons sling containing a crude axe forged from a guitar, and a shot gun. "I'm undead, unfortunately."
"I can see that my son." He chuckles "My eyes have yet to fail me."
The Flesh Son is rendering a deers skin into usable armor for itself. It's careful to use every piece of the deer. Bones, guts, antlers, eyes, organs, flesh, meat, hooves, tail, everything is used and nothing goes to waste.
Home is in the basement of the Guilt House, talking to one of the bodies which are propped up in a chair, writhing about. "Listen man, you gotta be cool. Can't be screaming bloody murder when you aren't actually real. Makes people think I'm insane or something or have somebody locked downstairs. I mean... You can just teleport on free will." He chuckles.
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
Until they dont. A ghostly shade of a creature rises from the nearby grave
Luciano looks up and smiles warmly "Hello my child.."
The shade looks around. "arrr... where be i?"
"The Material Realm. Land of the living I should say." He chuckles.
"And where be me adversary Scrumbeard?"
"If you are dead, my child, then to shall he be." He tilts his head.
"arrr... last thing i remember is him firin that cannonball"
The Flesh Son is rendering a deers skin into usable armor for itself. It's careful to use every piece of the deer. Bones, guts, antlers, eyes, organs, flesh, meat, hooves, tail, everything is used and nothing goes to waste.
Home is in the basement of the Guilt House, talking to one of the bodies which are propped up in a chair, writhing about. "Listen man, you gotta be cool. Can't be screaming bloody murder when you aren't actually real. Makes people think I'm insane or something or have somebody locked downstairs. I mean... You can just teleport on free will." He chuckles.
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
Until they dont. A ghostly shade of a creature rises from the nearby grave
Luciano looks up and smiles warmly "Hello my child.."
The shade looks around. "arrr... where be i?"
"The Material Realm. Land of the living I should say." He chuckles.
"And where be me adversary Scrumbeard?"
"If you are dead, my child, then to shall he be." He tilts his head.
"arrr... last thing i remember is him firin that cannonball"
"Might've been what took you out my child, those tend to be dangerous." He chuckles lightly and picks up his rosary.
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
"You do know that those don't help us, don't you, Father?" A man says from behind him.
Luciano turns around, raising a brow "Hello my child, how art thou?"
Father Luciano sees a completely skeletonized man, though he's quite sharply dressed, and still has his longe, blonde hair. "Hello, Father." The man says with an air of arrogance. On his back rests a weapons sling containing a crude axe forged from a guitar, and a shot gun. "I'm undead, unfortunately."
"I can see that my son." He chuckles "My eyes have yet to fail me."
"No, I dare not suggest they have. You never told me I had Lingering Will, Father." He says, sitting down on a nearby stump.
"Ahhh, undead because you're magic wills it to be." He tilts his head "Magic works in interesting ways my son, this is a natural way to an unnatural world."
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
"You do know that those don't help us, don't you, Father?" A man says from behind him.
Luciano turns around, raising a brow "Hello my child, how art thou?"
Father Luciano sees a completely skeletonized man, though he's quite sharply dressed, and still has his longe, blonde hair. "Hello, Father." The man says with an air of arrogance. On his back rests a weapons sling containing a crude axe forged from a guitar, and a shot gun. "I'm undead, unfortunately."
"I can see that my son." He chuckles "My eyes have yet to fail me."
"No, I dare not suggest they have. You never told me I had Lingering Will, Father." He says, sitting down on a nearby stump.
"Ahhh, undead because you're magic wills it to be." He tilts his head "Magic works in interesting ways my son, this is a natural way to an unnatural world."
"Where do I go from here, father?..."
"You could continue to live, enjoy that life has allowed you a second chance?" He smiles warmly.
Father Luciano is outside, praying over some graves. Each he has adorned with a wreath of cinnamon bark, olive leaves, willow branches, and dried lemons. Holy plants to help the dead pass on.
"You do know that those don't help us, don't you, Father?" A man says from behind him.
Luciano turns around, raising a brow "Hello my child, how art thou?"
Father Luciano sees a completely skeletonized man, though he's quite sharply dressed, and still has his longe, blonde hair. "Hello, Father." The man says with an air of arrogance. On his back rests a weapons sling containing a crude axe forged from a guitar, and a shot gun. "I'm undead, unfortunately."
"I can see that my son." He chuckles "My eyes have yet to fail me."
"No, I dare not suggest they have. You never told me I had Lingering Will, Father." He says, sitting down on a nearby stump.
"Ahhh, undead because you're magic wills it to be." He tilts his head "Magic works in interesting ways my son, this is a natural way to an unnatural world."
"Where do I go from here, father?..."
"You could continue to live, enjoy that life has allowed you a second chance?" He smiles warmly.
"And how can I do that, Father, knowing that you killed me?"
"I hate to tell you my child, I haven't killed a soul. This life time or the last." He tilts his head.
Luciano turns around, raising a brow "Hello my child, how art thou?"
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 Material Realm. Land of the living I should say." He chuckles.
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 where be me adversary Scrumbeard?"
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic (currently in remission!), autism, ADHD, anger issues
The hotel is utterly massive, and surrounded by charred and blackened land. The doors hang open, old, welcome, and nostalgic. Burning machines shamble, walk, skip, dance, and trudge about, each with its own personality and design. Many of them have trapped fey cooking inside of them.
*Aight, I'll wait for you. Thank you for the warning.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"If you are dead, my child, then to shall he be." He tilts his head.
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 can see that my son." He chuckles "My eyes have yet to fail me."
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
"arrr... last thing i remember is him firin that cannonball"
Pronouns: She/Her
Gender: Nonbinary Female, 1/3 human, 1/3 feline, 1/3 dragon
Mentally and emotionally unstable, anorexic (currently in remission!), autism, ADHD, anger issues
"Might've been what took you out my child, those tend to be dangerous." He chuckles lightly and picks up his rosary.
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
"Ahhh, undead because you're magic wills it to be." He tilts his head "Magic works in interesting ways my son, this is a natural way to an unnatural world."
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 could continue to live, enjoy that life has allowed you a second chance?" He smiles warmly.
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 depression.*
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 hate to tell you my child, I haven't killed a soul. This life time or the last." He tilts his head.
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