A striking building made of glossy black glass has emerged seemingly out of nowhere at the edge of town, its reflective surface glinting under the sunlight. A steady stream of curious onlookers is drawn to it, as if entranced by a fiery beacon. Inside, the scene is alive with energy and sophistication; the sleek design features elegant black marble tables paired with plush, cushioned chairs that invite relaxation. Remarkably, golden skeletons clad in immaculate suits glide seamlessly through the crowd, taking orders with an air of effortless grace. The entire establishment hums with efficiency and a sense of enchantment, making it a captivating experience for all who step inside.
In the back, it's another story. It is more crowded here, with similar skeletons working over hot pans and pots to create fine dishes. A massive man, with three heads on his shoulders. He wears a specially tailored chef's jacket and clothes, made from black fabric. The golden symbol of gluttony is stitched on the front pocket. he wears three golden masks resembling skulls over his face, concealing his identity. He bellows, his voice nearly rattling the pots and pans around him "THIS IS A THYME INFUSION, NOT A BLOODY THYME AND ROSEMARY. FIX IT OR I'LL BE USING YER SKULL AS A MUG!" He snarls at one of the skeletons who immediately scurries away. He slams down a massive ball of dough on to a counter, rolling it out to create spaghetti.
*Now that's an introduction to a character, I applaud you Wendi. Unfortunately I have no idea who would dare to interact with that, well other than Donquixote, but I'm 99% sure that Samaritan would find a reason to hate him. So I'ma let this one simmer while someone else takes it up. I'll be here if anybody needs something from me though, which is unlikely.*
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.'
*Now that's an introduction to a character, I applaud you Wendi. Unfortunately I have no idea who would dare to interact with that, well other than Donquixote, but I'm 99% sure that Samaritan would find a reason to hate him. So I'ma let this one simmer while someone else takes it up. I'll be here if anybody needs something from me though, which is unlikely.*
*Samaritan hates everyone, I would love to see what Donquixote does.*
A striking building made of glossy black glass has emerged seemingly out of nowhere at the edge of town, its reflective surface glinting under the sunlight. A steady stream of curious onlookers is drawn to it, as if entranced by a fiery beacon. Inside, the scene is alive with energy and sophistication; the sleek design features elegant black marble tables paired with plush, cushioned chairs that invite relaxation. Remarkably, golden skeletons clad in immaculate suits glide seamlessly through the crowd, taking orders with an air of effortless grace. The entire establishment hums with efficiency and a sense of enchantment, making it a captivating experience for all who step inside.
In the back, it's another story. It is more crowded here, with similar skeletons working over hot pans and pots to create fine dishes. A massive man, with three heads on his shoulders. He wears a specially tailored chef's jacket and clothes, made from black fabric. The golden symbol of gluttony is stitched on the front pocket. he wears three golden masks resembling skulls over his face, concealing his identity. He bellows, his voice nearly rattling the pots and pans around him "THIS IS A THYME INFUSION, NOT A BLOODY THYME AND ROSEMARY. FIX IT OR I'LL BE USING YER SKULL AS A MUG!" He snarls at one of the skeletons who immediately scurries away. He slams down a massive ball of dough on to a counter, rolling it out to create spaghetti.
Among the swarm of curious souls is KK, who looks about the large building with a sense of wonder. There is a faint hum of music around her, as though it were coming from some tinny radio speaker within her.
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)
A striking building made of glossy black glass has emerged seemingly out of nowhere at the edge of town, its reflective surface glinting under the sunlight. A steady stream of curious onlookers is drawn to it, as if entranced by a fiery beacon. Inside, the scene is alive with energy and sophistication; the sleek design features elegant black marble tables paired with plush, cushioned chairs that invite relaxation. Remarkably, golden skeletons clad in immaculate suits glide seamlessly through the crowd, taking orders with an air of effortless grace. The entire establishment hums with efficiency and a sense of enchantment, making it a captivating experience for all who step inside.
In the back, it's another story. It is more crowded here, with similar skeletons working over hot pans and pots to create fine dishes. A massive man, with three heads on his shoulders. He wears a specially tailored chef's jacket and clothes, made from black fabric. The golden symbol of gluttony is stitched on the front pocket. he wears three golden masks resembling skulls over his face, concealing his identity. He bellows, his voice nearly rattling the pots and pans around him "THIS IS A THYME INFUSION, NOT A BLOODY THYME AND ROSEMARY. FIX IT OR I'LL BE USING YER SKULL AS A MUG!" He snarls at one of the skeletons who immediately scurries away. He slams down a massive ball of dough on to a counter, rolling it out to create spaghetti.
Among the swarm of curious souls is KK, who looks about the large building with a sense of wonder. There is a faint hum of music around her, as though it were coming from some tinny radio speaker within her.
A gilded skeleton approaches her, bowing "Hello there, how many in your party?"
A striking building made of glossy black glass has emerged seemingly out of nowhere at the edge of town, its reflective surface glinting under the sunlight. A steady stream of curious onlookers is drawn to it, as if entranced by a fiery beacon. Inside, the scene is alive with energy and sophistication; the sleek design features elegant black marble tables paired with plush, cushioned chairs that invite relaxation. Remarkably, golden skeletons clad in immaculate suits glide seamlessly through the crowd, taking orders with an air of effortless grace. The entire establishment hums with efficiency and a sense of enchantment, making it a captivating experience for all who step inside.
In the back, it's another story. It is more crowded here, with similar skeletons working over hot pans and pots to create fine dishes. A massive man, with three heads on his shoulders. He wears a specially tailored chef's jacket and clothes, made from black fabric. The golden symbol of gluttony is stitched on the front pocket. he wears three golden masks resembling skulls over his face, concealing his identity. He bellows, his voice nearly rattling the pots and pans around him "THIS IS A THYME INFUSION, NOT A BLOODY THYME AND ROSEMARY. FIX IT OR I'LL BE USING YER SKULL AS A MUG!" He snarls at one of the skeletons who immediately scurries away. He slams down a massive ball of dough on to a counter, rolling it out to create spaghetti.
Among the swarm of curious souls is KK, who looks about the large building with a sense of wonder. There is a faint hum of music around her, as though it were coming from some tinny radio speaker within her.
A gilded skeleton approaches her, bowing "Hello there, how many in your party?"
"Oh, hello there. It's just me in my party at the moment. Why?"
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)
A striking building made of glossy black glass has emerged seemingly out of nowhere at the edge of town, its reflective surface glinting under the sunlight. A steady stream of curious onlookers is drawn to it, as if entranced by a fiery beacon. Inside, the scene is alive with energy and sophistication; the sleek design features elegant black marble tables paired with plush, cushioned chairs that invite relaxation. Remarkably, golden skeletons clad in immaculate suits glide seamlessly through the crowd, taking orders with an air of effortless grace. The entire establishment hums with efficiency and a sense of enchantment, making it a captivating experience for all who step inside.
In the back, it's another story. It is more crowded here, with similar skeletons working over hot pans and pots to create fine dishes. A massive man, with three heads on his shoulders. He wears a specially tailored chef's jacket and clothes, made from black fabric. The golden symbol of gluttony is stitched on the front pocket. he wears three golden masks resembling skulls over his face, concealing his identity. He bellows, his voice nearly rattling the pots and pans around him "THIS IS A THYME INFUSION, NOT A BLOODY THYME AND ROSEMARY. FIX IT OR I'LL BE USING YER SKULL AS A MUG!" He snarls at one of the skeletons who immediately scurries away. He slams down a massive ball of dough on to a counter, rolling it out to create spaghetti.
Among the swarm of curious souls is KK, who looks about the large building with a sense of wonder. There is a faint hum of music around her, as though it were coming from some tinny radio speaker within her.
A gilded skeleton approaches her, bowing "Hello there, how many in your party?"
"Oh, hello there. It's just me in my party at the moment. Why?"
It tilts its head and chuckles despite having no vocal cords "No reason, come with me. It gathers up a menu and leads her over to a special table by the glass window. It pulls out a notepad from somewhere and holds a pen against the paper, waiting "What would you like to drink?"
*Now that's an introduction to a character, I applaud you Wendi. Unfortunately I have no idea who would dare to interact with that, well other than Donquixote, but I'm 99% sure that Samaritan would find a reason to hate him. So I'ma let this one simmer while someone else takes it up. I'll be here if anybody needs something from me though, which is unlikely.*
*Samaritan hates everyone, I would love to see what Donquixote does.*
*O...kay.*
Donquixote, the Tiefling Bounty Hunter of the Highest court of the Nine Hells, strides through the entrance. He is, based on appearance alone, a dirty and vile man, though fit and well defined. He has an infernal cigarette in his mouth, his horns curled around his head, spiraling around. He is wearing a dirty T shirt, the only recognizable sting on it being blood, and none of it his own. He is wearing black sweatpants. He has a 5 o clock shadow, a katana at his side that seems to leak shadow magic, the hilt is the only fancy looking part of him. He looks around the place, blowing smoke without much care, his eyes uninterested in the bedazzle of this place.
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 striking building made of glossy black glass has emerged seemingly out of nowhere at the edge of town, its reflective surface glinting under the sunlight. A steady stream of curious onlookers is drawn to it, as if entranced by a fiery beacon. Inside, the scene is alive with energy and sophistication; the sleek design features elegant black marble tables paired with plush, cushioned chairs that invite relaxation. Remarkably, golden skeletons clad in immaculate suits glide seamlessly through the crowd, taking orders with an air of effortless grace. The entire establishment hums with efficiency and a sense of enchantment, making it a captivating experience for all who step inside.
In the back, it's another story. It is more crowded here, with similar skeletons working over hot pans and pots to create fine dishes. A massive man, with three heads on his shoulders. He wears a specially tailored chef's jacket and clothes, made from black fabric. The golden symbol of gluttony is stitched on the front pocket. he wears three golden masks resembling skulls over his face, concealing his identity. He bellows, his voice nearly rattling the pots and pans around him "THIS IS A THYME INFUSION, NOT A BLOODY THYME AND ROSEMARY. FIX IT OR I'LL BE USING YER SKULL AS A MUG!" He snarls at one of the skeletons who immediately scurries away. He slams down a massive ball of dough on to a counter, rolling it out to create spaghetti.
Among the swarm of curious souls is KK, who looks about the large building with a sense of wonder. There is a faint hum of music around her, as though it were coming from some tinny radio speaker within her.
A gilded skeleton approaches her, bowing "Hello there, how many in your party?"
"Oh, hello there. It's just me in my party at the moment. Why?"
It tilts its head and chuckles despite having no vocal cords "No reason, come with me." It gathers up a menu and leads her over to a special table by the glass window. It pulls out a notepad from somewhere and holds a pen against the paper, waiting "What would you like to drink?"
She takes a seat, and it looks like she's about to say something before she pauses, the re-realization of something hitting her like a punch to the lack-of-a-face. "Oh... This is a little awkward... I- er- I don't think I can drink anything, given I... I don't have a mouth." *for context, she's essentially a possessed mannequin*
*Now that's an introduction to a character, I applaud you Wendi. Unfortunately I have no idea who would dare to interact with that, well other than Donquixote, but I'm 99% sure that Samaritan would find a reason to hate him. So I'ma let this one simmer while someone else takes it up. I'll be here if anybody needs something from me though, which is unlikely.*
*Samaritan hates everyone, I would love to see what Donquixote does.*
*O...kay.*
Donquixote, the Tiefling Bounty Hunter of the Highest court of the Nine Hells, strides through the entrance. He is, based on appearance alone, a dirty and vile man, though fit and well defined. He has an infernal cigarette in his mouth, his horns curled around his head, spiraling around. He is wearing a dirty T shirt, the only recognizable sting on it being blood, and none of it his own. He is wearing black sweatpants. He has a 5 o clock shadow, a katana at his side that seems to leak shadow magic, the hilt is the only fancy looking part of him. He looks around the place, blowing smoke without much care, his eyes uninterested in the bedazzle of this place.
A gilded skeleton bows and welcomes him "hello sir, how many in your party?"
A striking building made of glossy black glass has emerged seemingly out of nowhere at the edge of town, its reflective surface glinting under the sunlight. A steady stream of curious onlookers is drawn to it, as if entranced by a fiery beacon. Inside, the scene is alive with energy and sophistication; the sleek design features elegant black marble tables paired with plush, cushioned chairs that invite relaxation. Remarkably, golden skeletons clad in immaculate suits glide seamlessly through the crowd, taking orders with an air of effortless grace. The entire establishment hums with efficiency and a sense of enchantment, making it a captivating experience for all who step inside.
In the back, it's another story. It is more crowded here, with similar skeletons working over hot pans and pots to create fine dishes. A massive man, with three heads on his shoulders. He wears a specially tailored chef's jacket and clothes, made from black fabric. The golden symbol of gluttony is stitched on the front pocket. he wears three golden masks resembling skulls over his face, concealing his identity. He bellows, his voice nearly rattling the pots and pans around him "THIS IS A THYME INFUSION, NOT A BLOODY THYME AND ROSEMARY. FIX IT OR I'LL BE USING YER SKULL AS A MUG!" He snarls at one of the skeletons who immediately scurries away. He slams down a massive ball of dough on to a counter, rolling it out to create spaghetti.
Among the swarm of curious souls is KK, who looks about the large building with a sense of wonder. There is a faint hum of music around her, as though it were coming from some tinny radio speaker within her.
A gilded skeleton approaches her, bowing "Hello there, how many in your party?"
"Oh, hello there. It's just me in my party at the moment. Why?"
It tilts its head and chuckles despite having no vocal cords "No reason, come with me." It gathers up a menu and leads her over to a special table by the glass window. It pulls out a notepad from somewhere and holds a pen against the paper, waiting "What would you like to drink?"
She takes a seat, and it looks like she's about to say something before she pauses, the re-realization of something hitting her like a punch to the lack-of-a-face. "Oh... I don't think I can drink anything, given I... I don't have a mouth." *for context, she's essentially a possessed mannequin*
It chuckles and nods, writing something down. "Ah, well... How do you consume nutrients?"
*Now that's an introduction to a character, I applaud you Wendi. Unfortunately I have no idea who would dare to interact with that, well other than Donquixote, but I'm 99% sure that Samaritan would find a reason to hate him. So I'ma let this one simmer while someone else takes it up. I'll be here if anybody needs something from me though, which is unlikely.*
*Samaritan hates everyone, I would love to see what Donquixote does.*
*O...kay.*
Donquixote, the Tiefling Bounty Hunter of the Highest court of the Nine Hells, strides through the entrance. He is, based on appearance alone, a dirty and vile man, though fit and well defined. He has an infernal cigarette in his mouth, his horns curled around his head, spiraling around. He is wearing a dirty T shirt, the only recognizable sting on it being blood, and none of it his own. He is wearing black sweatpants. He has a 5 o clock shadow, a katana at his side that seems to leak shadow magic, the hilt is the only fancy looking part of him. He looks around the place, blowing smoke without much care, his eyes uninterested in the bedazzle of this place.
A gilded skeleton bows and welcomes him "hello sir, how many in your party?"
He speaks in a gruff tone, his voice like refined gravel but not yet sand, sharp on most sides "Just me." He blows another puff of smoke.
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.'
*I am in a meeting and then I have to drive home on the beltway.*
(rip)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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
*Now that's an introduction to a character, I applaud you Wendi. Unfortunately I have no idea who would dare to interact with that, well other than Donquixote, but I'm 99% sure that Samaritan would find a reason to hate him. So I'ma let this one simmer while someone else takes it up. I'll be here if anybody needs something from me though, which is unlikely.*
*Samaritan hates everyone, I would love to see what Donquixote does.*
*O...kay.*
Donquixote, the Tiefling Bounty Hunter of the Highest court of the Nine Hells, strides through the entrance. He is, based on appearance alone, a dirty and vile man, though fit and well defined. He has an infernal cigarette in his mouth, his horns curled around his head, spiraling around. He is wearing a dirty T shirt, the only recognizable sting on it being blood, and none of it his own. He is wearing black sweatpants. He has a 5 o clock shadow, a katana at his side that seems to leak shadow magic, the hilt is the only fancy looking part of him. He looks around the place, blowing smoke without much care, his eyes uninterested in the bedazzle of this place.
A gilded skeleton bows and welcomes him "hello sir, how many in your party?"
He speaks in a gruff tone, his voice like refined gravel but not yet sand, sharp on most sides "Just me." He blows another puff of smoke.
It nods and gestures for him to follow as it leads him to a booth by the front.
*Man, I've made some many Cowboy characters that I want to make a Wild West thread, but I don't have any good ideas that will last the test of time. They'll probably just die on arrival. Anyway, is anyone interested in a Magic Wild West heist focused thread where the deserts are hotter than anywhere else and the storms are fueled by Wild magic?*
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.'
*Now that's an introduction to a character, I applaud you Wendi. Unfortunately I have no idea who would dare to interact with that, well other than Donquixote, but I'm 99% sure that Samaritan would find a reason to hate him. So I'ma let this one simmer while someone else takes it up. I'll be here if anybody needs something from me though, which is unlikely.*
*Samaritan hates everyone, I would love to see what Donquixote does.*
*O...kay.*
Donquixote, the Tiefling Bounty Hunter of the Highest court of the Nine Hells, strides through the entrance. He is, based on appearance alone, a dirty and vile man, though fit and well defined. He has an infernal cigarette in his mouth, his horns curled around his head, spiraling around. He is wearing a dirty T shirt, the only recognizable sting on it being blood, and none of it his own. He is wearing black sweatpants. He has a 5 o clock shadow, a katana at his side that seems to leak shadow magic, the hilt is the only fancy looking part of him. He looks around the place, blowing smoke without much care, his eyes uninterested in the bedazzle of this place.
A gilded skeleton bows and welcomes him "hello sir, how many in your party?"
He speaks in a gruff tone, his voice like refined gravel but not yet sand, sharp on most sides "Just me." He blows another puff of smoke.
It nods and gestures for him to follow as it leads him to a booth by the front.
He follows after them, his bare feet slapping against the ground. He sits in the booth, patiently waiting with his feet on the table, which he somehow managed.
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.'
*Terrifying.*
*I'm going to make a living beehive.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Yerp. He is funky. His name is Arthur and he has metal arms. Hoorah.*
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
*Funky is definitely welcome, metal arms Arthur would be a fabulous member.*
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.)
*Should I bring my Oblex hive-mind character here?*
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)
A striking building made of glossy black glass has emerged seemingly out of nowhere at the edge of town, its reflective surface glinting under the sunlight. A steady stream of curious onlookers is drawn to it, as if entranced by a fiery beacon. Inside, the scene is alive with energy and sophistication; the sleek design features elegant black marble tables paired with plush, cushioned chairs that invite relaxation. Remarkably, golden skeletons clad in immaculate suits glide seamlessly through the crowd, taking orders with an air of effortless grace. The entire establishment hums with efficiency and a sense of enchantment, making it a captivating experience for all who step inside.
In the back, it's another story. It is more crowded here, with similar skeletons working over hot pans and pots to create fine dishes. A massive man, with three heads on his shoulders. He wears a specially tailored chef's jacket and clothes, made from black fabric. The golden symbol of gluttony is stitched on the front pocket. he wears three golden masks resembling skulls over his face, concealing his identity. He bellows, his voice nearly rattling the pots and pans around him "THIS IS A THYME INFUSION, NOT A BLOODY THYME AND ROSEMARY. FIX IT OR I'LL BE USING YER SKULL AS A MUG!" He snarls at one of the skeletons who immediately scurries away. He slams down a massive ball of dough on to a counter, rolling it out to create spaghetti.
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
*Now that's an introduction to a character, I applaud you Wendi. Unfortunately I have no idea who would dare to interact with that, well other than Donquixote, but I'm 99% sure that Samaritan would find a reason to hate him. So I'ma let this one simmer while someone else takes it up. I'll be here if anybody needs something from me though, which is unlikely.*
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.)
*Samaritan hates everyone, I would love to see what Donquixote does.*
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
Among the swarm of curious souls is KK, who looks about the large building with a sense of wonder. There is a faint hum of music around her, as though it were coming from some tinny radio speaker within her.
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)
A gilded skeleton approaches her, bowing "Hello there, how many in your party?"
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
"Oh, hello there. It's just me in my party at the moment. Why?"
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)
It tilts its head and chuckles despite having no vocal cords "No reason, come with me. It gathers up a menu and leads her over to a special table by the glass window. It pulls out a notepad from somewhere and holds a pen against the paper, waiting "What would you like to drink?"
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
*O...kay.*
Donquixote, the Tiefling Bounty Hunter of the Highest court of the Nine Hells, strides through the entrance. He is, based on appearance alone, a dirty and vile man, though fit and well defined. He has an infernal cigarette in his mouth, his horns curled around his head, spiraling around. He is wearing a dirty T shirt, the only recognizable sting on it being blood, and none of it his own. He is wearing black sweatpants. He has a 5 o clock shadow, a katana at his side that seems to leak shadow magic, the hilt is the only fancy looking part of him. He looks around the place, blowing smoke without much care, his eyes uninterested in the bedazzle of this place.
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.)
She takes a seat, and it looks like she's about to say something before she pauses, the re-realization of something hitting her like a punch to the lack-of-a-face. "Oh... This is a little awkward... I- er- I don't think I can drink anything, given I... I don't have a mouth." *for context, she's essentially a possessed mannequin*
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)
A gilded skeleton bows and welcomes him "hello sir, how many in your party?"
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
It chuckles and nods, writing something down. "Ah, well... How do you consume nutrients?"
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
He speaks in a gruff tone, his voice like refined gravel but not yet sand, sharp on most sides "Just me." He blows another puff of smoke.
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.)
(rip)
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 nods and gestures for him to follow as it leads him to a booth by the front.
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
*Man, I've made some many Cowboy characters that I want to make a Wild West thread, but I don't have any good ideas that will last the test of time. They'll probably just die on arrival. Anyway, is anyone interested in a Magic Wild West heist focused thread where the deserts are hotter than anywhere else and the storms are fueled by Wild magic?*
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 follows after them, his bare feet slapping against the ground. He sits in the booth, patiently waiting with his feet on the table, which he somehow managed.
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.)