A tall man, standing at 6 feet 3 inches, strolls through the vibrant streets of town. His short blonde hair catches the sunlight, contrasting with his fair skin, while his striking stormy grey eyes scan his surroundings, albeit with a sense of apprehension. He walks with his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, his brow slightly furrowed in thought, and his hand grips the strap of a well-worn leather satchel that hangs at his side. Intricate tattoos of black vines twist and creep up his forearms, each vine carefully etched into his skin, intertwining with symbols that hint at deeper meanings: some representing health and vitality, others evoking the darker arts of necromancy. The combination of the tattoos gives him an enigmatic allure, a story woven into his flesh.
As he navigates through the bustling town, he occasionally adjusts his square glasses, the frames resting precariously on the bridge of his nose. Despite his imposing stature, there is an air of anxiousness about him. Eventually, he seeks refuge in a quieter area of town, away from the noise and crowd. He finds a secluded bench nestled beneath the shade of a large tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. Sitting down, he lets out a deep breath, relief washing over him. Reaching into his satchel, he carefully pulls out a thick tome, its worn leather cover embossed with mysterious symbols. As he opens it, the pages flutter slightly in the wind, revealing an array of notes and sketches filled with arcane knowledge.
A man sitting on top of a roof watches them. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
I won't be grain of sand Slippin' down the hour glass Watchin' every minute fall through I will pay the price Never satisfied, I'm never gonna be refused
Theren is sitting in the woods, arrows pepper his chest. He isn't moving or breathing.
*Hope you feel better man.*
Rag is walking through the forest, his colossal size allowing him to easily look over most of the trees. Though he does look down and see Theren, leaning down. He pushes the arrow out of him as to not tear any skin off before trying to heal him, if he's alive he gains 100hp.
Theren still doesn't move, the arrow slick with blood. His body is ice cold
He grumbles, picking up his cold body, too long dead for him to revive. He heads to the Inn quickly to find someone who might be able to help.
HIs limp body sits in their hands, his head lulling listlessly.
He takes him to the porch of the Lord's Rest Inn, trying to cast spells like Revivify.
None of the spells seem to work
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
A tall man, standing at 6 feet 3 inches, strolls through the vibrant streets of town. His short blonde hair catches the sunlight, contrasting with his fair skin, while his striking stormy grey eyes scan his surroundings, albeit with a sense of apprehension. He walks with his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, his brow slightly furrowed in thought, and his hand grips the strap of a well-worn leather satchel that hangs at his side. Intricate tattoos of black vines twist and creep up his forearms, each vine carefully etched into his skin, intertwining with symbols that hint at deeper meanings: some representing health and vitality, others evoking the darker arts of necromancy. The combination of the tattoos gives him an enigmatic allure, a story woven into his flesh.
As he navigates through the bustling town, he occasionally adjusts his square glasses, the frames resting precariously on the bridge of his nose. Despite his imposing stature, there is an air of anxiousness about him. Eventually, he seeks refuge in a quieter area of town, away from the noise and crowd. He finds a secluded bench nestled beneath the shade of a large tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. Sitting down, he lets out a deep breath, relief washing over him. Reaching into his satchel, he carefully pulls out a thick tome, its worn leather cover embossed with mysterious symbols. As he opens it, the pages flutter slightly in the wind, revealing an array of notes and sketches filled with arcane knowledge.
A man sitting on top of a roof watches them. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
The man doesn't seem to notice him, focused on his tome, muttering to himself.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
A tall man, standing at 6 feet 3 inches, strolls through the vibrant streets of town. His short blonde hair catches the sunlight, contrasting with his fair skin, while his striking stormy grey eyes scan his surroundings, albeit with a sense of apprehension. He walks with his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, his brow slightly furrowed in thought, and his hand grips the strap of a well-worn leather satchel that hangs at his side. Intricate tattoos of black vines twist and creep up his forearms, each vine carefully etched into his skin, intertwining with symbols that hint at deeper meanings: some representing health and vitality, others evoking the darker arts of necromancy. The combination of the tattoos gives him an enigmatic allure, a story woven into his flesh.
As he navigates through the bustling town, he occasionally adjusts his square glasses, the frames resting precariously on the bridge of his nose. Despite his imposing stature, there is an air of anxiousness about him. Eventually, he seeks refuge in a quieter area of town, away from the noise and crowd. He finds a secluded bench nestled beneath the shade of a large tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. Sitting down, he lets out a deep breath, relief washing over him. Reaching into his satchel, he carefully pulls out a thick tome, its worn leather cover embossed with mysterious symbols. As he opens it, the pages flutter slightly in the wind, revealing an array of notes and sketches filled with arcane knowledge.
A man sitting on top of a roof watches them. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
The man doesn't seem to notice him, focused on his tome, muttering to himself.
the man moves from the roof to the tree above them, trying to read the tome
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Leo chucks the fused bricks at a wall in frustration.
They whine a little and paw at his face slightly.
She goes over to him. “Leo, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now, but we can get through this. Nothing ever gets so broken it can’t be fixed.”
In the reflection of his eyes the little god can see the form of a person crouching in the trees. A black mask with a red hand over the center of it covering their face.
"NO! NO IT CANT!" he shouts. "FESTUS IS GONE!"
Suhou scampers behind Theren’s body and flattens, frightened by this vision.
“He can’t be… there’s always a way. There has to be a solution.”
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.
A tall man, standing at 6 feet 3 inches, strolls through the vibrant streets of town. His short blonde hair catches the sunlight, contrasting with his fair skin, while his striking stormy grey eyes scan his surroundings, albeit with a sense of apprehension. He walks with his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, his brow slightly furrowed in thought, and his hand grips the strap of a well-worn leather satchel that hangs at his side. Intricate tattoos of black vines twist and creep up his forearms, each vine carefully etched into his skin, intertwining with symbols that hint at deeper meanings: some representing health and vitality, others evoking the darker arts of necromancy. The combination of the tattoos gives him an enigmatic allure, a story woven into his flesh.
As he navigates through the bustling town, he occasionally adjusts his square glasses, the frames resting precariously on the bridge of his nose. Despite his imposing stature, there is an air of anxiousness about him. Eventually, he seeks refuge in a quieter area of town, away from the noise and crowd. He finds a secluded bench nestled beneath the shade of a large tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. Sitting down, he lets out a deep breath, relief washing over him. Reaching into his satchel, he carefully pulls out a thick tome, its worn leather cover embossed with mysterious symbols. As he opens it, the pages flutter slightly in the wind, revealing an array of notes and sketches filled with arcane knowledge.
A man sitting on top of a roof watches them. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
The man doesn't seem to notice him, focused on his tome, muttering to himself.
the man moves from the roof to the tree above them, trying to read the tome
The words seem to be chicken scratch, barely legible.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
I won't be grain of sand Slippin' down the hour glass Watchin' every minute fall through I will pay the price Never satisfied, I'm never gonna be refused
*Can I have a description? I don't think I've met Thane before.*
Felix waves back, and, seeing this friendly gesture as an invitation, walks over. "Hey there!"
*Red Dragonborn, brought back from the dead, former friend of Sparrow until his mind and body were taken over by the Valentine sisters, Infernal runes along his body as well as magic strings holding him together. Has an infernal greataxe.*
They struggle to speak, their milky white eyes looking to Felix with some kind of familiarity, his voice rumbling and forced "H-... Hello."
*Oh yeah! I think I just didn't catch his name.*
"How's it been going? I don't think we've talked very much, but I'm Felix. Are you hungry?" He sits down before the undead as if this were just something very normal. It might be for him, actually.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He curses, before beginning to ask around, looking for people, mages, anyone that might be able to help where he can't. He seems emotional, even though he doesn't know Theren, possibly remembering some things he thought were buried.
“Ah, so I take it the grafted divinity continues to reject itself from Damian’s physical form?”
Riotan yelps and leaps down from his perch, looking for the source of the shot.
"Apparently so. I do what I can to try and help, but there seems to be some fundamental thing that still binds itself to the heart, something that makes it reject Damian." He turns "Have we met? If not, Sanviento Alterious, nice to meet you."
Sparrow wouldn't be able to see this from behind his cover, but Riotan can see, 400ft away on a rooftop is a sniper quickly moving away after missing the headshot.
“We have. I am Thirteen. And from my current research, it seems that something about Damian’s innate nature must be contradictory and incompatible to the nature of divinity. There must be an aspect of him that is diametrically opposed and incompatible with that which is divine. Something… profane.”
Rio begins sprinting at the culprit, his scales clattering back into place to restore his appearance.
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.
Leo chucks the fused bricks at a wall in frustration.
They whine a little and paw at his face slightly.
She goes over to him. “Leo, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now, but we can get through this. Nothing ever gets so broken it can’t be fixed.”
In the reflection of his eyes the little god can see the form of a person crouching in the trees. A black mask with a red hand over the center of it covering their face.
"NO! NO IT CANT!" he shouts. "FESTUS IS GONE!"
Suhou scampers behind Theren’s body and flattens, frightened by this vision.
“He can’t be… there’s always a way. There has to be a solution.”
The man watches them. He has short light brown hair, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
Leo looks at her, fire flickering in his palm. "He...he cant.."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Theren is sitting in the woods, arrows pepper his chest. He isn't moving or breathing.
Leo is trying to rebuild his forge unsuccessfully.
The Tarnished is still wounded as Helena is doing her best to tend to them.
-new character-
A man is sitting on top of a roof. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*Can I have a description? I don't think I've met Thane before.*
Felix waves back, and, seeing this friendly gesture as an invitation, walks over. "Hey there!"
*Red Dragonborn, brought back from the dead, former friend of Sparrow until his mind and body were taken over by the Valentine sisters, Infernal runes along his body as well as magic strings holding him together. Has an infernal greataxe.*
They struggle to speak, their milky white eyes looking to Felix with some kind of familiarity, his voice rumbling and forced "H-... Hello."
*Oh yeah! I think I just didn't catch his name.*
"How's it been going? I don't think we've talked very much, but I'm Felix. Are you hungry?" He sits down before the undead as if this were just something very normal. It might be for him, actually.
They look at them confused, tilting their head downward, their bowler hat falling off their head. They immediately panic and try to pick it back up, but it's nearly impossible with their destroyed fingers, "He-help. P-please."
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 tall man, standing at 6 feet 3 inches, strolls through the vibrant streets of town. His short blonde hair catches the sunlight, contrasting with his fair skin, while his striking stormy grey eyes scan his surroundings, albeit with a sense of apprehension. He walks with his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, his brow slightly furrowed in thought, and his hand grips the strap of a well-worn leather satchel that hangs at his side. Intricate tattoos of black vines twist and creep up his forearms, each vine carefully etched into his skin, intertwining with symbols that hint at deeper meanings: some representing health and vitality, others evoking the darker arts of necromancy. The combination of the tattoos gives him an enigmatic allure, a story woven into his flesh.
As he navigates through the bustling town, he occasionally adjusts his square glasses, the frames resting precariously on the bridge of his nose. Despite his imposing stature, there is an air of anxiousness about him. Eventually, he seeks refuge in a quieter area of town, away from the noise and crowd. He finds a secluded bench nestled beneath the shade of a large tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. Sitting down, he lets out a deep breath, relief washing over him. Reaching into his satchel, he carefully pulls out a thick tome, its worn leather cover embossed with mysterious symbols. As he opens it, the pages flutter slightly in the wind, revealing an array of notes and sketches filled with arcane knowledge.
A man sitting on top of a roof watches them. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
The man doesn't seem to notice him, focused on his tome, muttering to himself.
the man moves from the roof to the tree above them, trying to read the tome
The words seem to be chicken scratch, barely legible.
He narrows his eyes, still trying to decipher.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Theren is sitting in the woods, arrows pepper his chest. He isn't moving or breathing.
Leo is trying to rebuild his forge unsuccessfully.
The Tarnished is still wounded as Helena is doing her best to tend to them.
-new character-
A man is sitting on top of a roof. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
Isaac comes over and observes the damage
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
I won't be grain of sand Slippin' down the hour glass Watchin' every minute fall through I will pay the price Never satisfied, I'm never gonna be refused
Leo chucks the fused bricks at a wall in frustration.
They whine a little and paw at his face slightly.
She goes over to him. “Leo, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now, but we can get through this. Nothing ever gets so broken it can’t be fixed.”
In the reflection of his eyes the little god can see the form of a person crouching in the trees. A black mask with a red hand over the center of it covering their face.
"NO! NO IT CANT!" he shouts. "FESTUS IS GONE!"
Suhou scampers behind Theren’s body and flattens, frightened by this vision.
“He can’t be… there’s always a way. There has to be a solution.”
The man watches them. He has short light brown hair, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
Leo looks at her, fire flickering in his palm. "He...he cant.."
Suhou remains behind Theren, hoping the newcomer will just leave.
“Well… what was it about him that made him conscious? Was it a part of him or was it something about his whole being?”
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.
*Hello friends*
fellow follower of JEFF!!!! and a fan of BotW
Co-cult leader of the cynophobia cult
Archivist of the kingdoms and Crowns thread, Percy Jackson thread, Mechanicus and Realm of Dragons threads
A man sitting on top of a roof watches them. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*Crappy*
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
(what's up)
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
I won't be grain of sand
Slippin' down the hour glass
Watchin' every minute fall through
I will pay the price
Never satisfied, I'm never gonna be refused
None of the spells seem to work
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The man doesn't seem to notice him, focused on his tome, muttering to himself.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
the man moves from the roof to the tree above them, trying to read the tome
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Suhou scampers behind Theren’s body and flattens, frightened by this vision.
“He can’t be… there’s always a way. There has to be a solution.”
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.
The words seem to be chicken scratch, barely legible.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
(you want to rp theren?)
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
I won't be grain of sand
Slippin' down the hour glass
Watchin' every minute fall through
I will pay the price
Never satisfied, I'm never gonna be refused
*Oh yeah! I think I just didn't catch his name.*
"How's it been going? I don't think we've talked very much, but I'm Felix. Are you hungry?" He sits down before the undead as if this were just something very normal. It might be for him, actually.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He curses, before beginning to ask around, looking for people, mages, anyone that might be able to help where he can't. He seems emotional, even though he doesn't know Theren, possibly remembering some things he thought were buried.
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.)
“We have. I am Thirteen. And from my current research, it seems that something about Damian’s innate nature must be contradictory and incompatible to the nature of divinity. There must be an aspect of him that is diametrically opposed and incompatible with that which is divine. Something… profane.”
Rio begins sprinting at the culprit, his scales clattering back into place to restore his appearance.
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.
The man watches them. He has short light brown hair, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
Leo looks at her, fire flickering in his palm. "He...he cant.."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*Sure*
Theren is sitting in the woods, arrows pepper his chest. He isn't moving or breathing.
Leo is trying to rebuild his forge unsuccessfully.
The Tarnished is still wounded as Helena is doing her best to tend to them.
-new character-
A man is sitting on top of a roof. He has short light brown hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. He wears brown boots, a black cloak, and grey pants and a black shirt. Attached to one of his legs is a dagger with a shortsword on his hip. Over his back is a quiver with arrows and a shortbow. A small bag rests on the small of his back.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
They look at them confused, tilting their head downward, their bowler hat falling off their head. They immediately panic and try to pick it back up, but it's nearly impossible with their destroyed fingers, "He-help. P-please."
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.)
He narrows his eyes, still trying to decipher.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Isaac comes over and observes the damage
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
I won't be grain of sand
Slippin' down the hour glass
Watchin' every minute fall through
I will pay the price
Never satisfied, I'm never gonna be refused
Suhou remains behind Theren, hoping the newcomer will just leave.
“Well… what was it about him that made him conscious? Was it a part of him or was it something about his whole being?”
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.
*Hey guys, Ill be back in a bit.*
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]