He turns on his heel to walk away, then turns back, cursing himself near-silently. He struts up to her, which looks kind of awkward with his long limbs and serfly garb. "Hello, madam." He bows. "I do believe I recognize something about you. Something familiar. Pardon my question, but do you have a preference for, shall we say, flesh?" He doesn't seem nervous at all, his usual smile plastered on his face.
She looks to them, smiling with the sharp fangs spread across her mouth, curtsying politely to them “Hello there kind sir, I would say I do. Cursed to consume flesh endlessly, an I have started to stop mindin’ it. Nice to meet ya, Merabelle the Black Blood, you are?”
"Hyacinthe Chassuer, at your service." He has a lowbrow Irish accent, which is another interesting contrast. "My job used to put me into contact with curses quite often. I'm glad I've learned enough to be able to recognize them at this point. Do you have a taste for game, Lady Merabelle? Monstrous or otherwise?"
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He shakes his head “Those two have always been manipulative, an it usually works, but you aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met, you’re strong beyond belief, and radiantly beautiful to match.”
She giggles madly, her checks and ears turning red. "I am not beautiful. I am quite ugly."
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"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
He turns on his heel to walk away, then turns back, cursing himself near-silently. He struts up to her, which looks kind of awkward with his long limbs and serfly garb. "Hello, madam." He bows. "I do believe I recognize something about you. Something familiar. Pardon my question, but do you have a preference for, shall we say, flesh?" He doesn't seem nervous at all, his usual smile plastered on his face.
She looks to them, smiling with the sharp fangs spread across her mouth, curtsying politely to them “Hello there kind sir, I would say I do. Cursed to consume flesh endlessly, an I have started to stop mindin’ it. Nice to meet ya, Merabelle the Black Blood, you are?”
"Hyacinthe Chassuer, at your service." He has a lowbrow Irish accent, which is another interesting contrast. "My job used to put me into contact with curses quite often. I'm glad I've learned enough to be able to recognize them at this point. Do you have a taste for game, Lady Merabelle? Monstrous or otherwise?"
She nods “Any kind of game is perfectly fine, I ain’t a picky eater, especially when it comes to the creatures, or people, I end up eatin’.” She seems to enjoy his very presence “You could recognize a cannibal when you see one, that’s a pretty talent. I like yer accent.” She says, leaning against the wall of stone.
He shakes his head “Those two have always been manipulative, an it usually works, but you aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met, you’re strong beyond belief, and radiantly beautiful to match.”
She giggles madly, her checks and ears turning red. "I am not beautiful. I am quite ugly."
“You ain’t ugly at all, the fact that you think that means I apparently don’t love ya enough. I’ll have to fix that.” He refills their drinks.
He seems impressed, giving a golf clap. "Oh my! A fearsome material indeed! I've only encountered it in its natural state, though, and I know that fey materials change dramatically when worked. Could you tell me the properties of this cart? I fear the potential consequences of what I might purchase."
"It simply prevents theft until the item has been purchased with the correct amount." He says, bowing. "It protects me from losing my livelihood while killing those who attempt to take it."
He seems even more impressed now. "Quite interesting! A clever piece of woodwork indeed! Now, my wealth is meager, but as I seem to be the only person here at this exact moment, I feel justified in taking up more of your attention. Do you happen to have any thread? I need something sturdy, and earthly grass is not proper for the creation of boots and warm clothing."
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He shakes his head “Those two have always been manipulative, an it usually works, but you aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met, you’re strong beyond belief, and radiantly beautiful to match.”
She giggles madly, her checks and ears turning red. "I am not beautiful. I am quite ugly."
“You ain’t ugly at all, the fact that you think that means I apparently don’t love ya enough. I’ll have to fix that.” He refills their drinks.
She downs in a few sips and chuckles "I know you love me."
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"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
"Yeah, sorry about that. Uh, the Sisters want to sabotage your relationship with Sparrow so he kind of... gives up and lets them kill him. I want to prevent that from happening. I don't like those two."
"Stop coming back." It lights a match and drops it on the corpse.
"Understandable, I want to maul them to death and back and then use their corpses as new clothes but Sparrow would be upset with me which is why I won't do that. However, you know me, easily provoked and angry and (GP) like that." She shrugs.
The body screams as it is suddenly lit ablaze. The plastic around it begins to melt and inside is a boy who looks like Home, screaming and crying in fear and pain. Home watches it with a detached look of neutrality.
"I have a much crueler plane. Imagine suddenly gaining true empathy and remorse for a lifetime of evil deeds. Possibly several lifetimes. Now imagine that the one person you were close to, the only one that could understand you before, has no idea what you're going through and resents you for it. Wouldn't that be just awful?"
Tyrone tilts its head. "Huh." It stomps out the flames quite brutally.
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 reaches out a hand, the sound of crunching bone filling the air “No… I can do something. Need to have time to waste.”
“Ytrasilen? I’ve been there, not from though.” His voice matching his appearance, old and wise “Went there during a war general apprenticeship.”
"Well, I'm kind of a one man operation... Unless you have trinkets to sell?" he says, tilting his head.
"It was my hometown" he says, a fond mist entering his eyes briefly. He blinks, smiling. "I only asked because i've never seen anybody outside of that region play this particular card game." He says pointing to the cards sat on the counter.
He holds up a skull, gold plated and bejeweled, as well as what appears to be a single ring, made for someone like him, huge.
He nods, setting down cards like the game is played “That was a long time ago, back when I was a young stud, rather than some old geezer. I enjoyed my time there, it changed my life for the better. I’m Winston, and you are?”
He shakes his head “Those two have always been manipulative, an it usually works, but you aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met, you’re strong beyond belief, and radiantly beautiful to match.”
She giggles madly, her checks and ears turning red. "I am not beautiful. I am quite ugly."
“You ain’t ugly at all, the fact that you think that means I apparently don’t love ya enough. I’ll have to fix that.” He refills their drinks.
She downs in a few sips and chuckles "I know you love me."
He downs another, planning on getting himself drunk tonight “Then you better love yourself, or I’ll have to love you harder until you do.”
"Yeah, sorry about that. Uh, the Sisters want to sabotage your relationship with Sparrow so he kind of... gives up and lets them kill him. I want to prevent that from happening. I don't like those two."
"Stop coming back." It lights a match and drops it on the corpse.
"Understandable, I want to maul them to death and back and then use their corpses as new clothes but Sparrow would be upset with me which is why I won't do that. However, you know me, easily provoked and angry and (GP) like that." She shrugs.
The body screams as it is suddenly lit ablaze. The plastic around it begins to melt and inside is a boy who looks like Home, screaming and crying in fear and pain. Home watches it with a detached look of neutrality.
"I have a much crueler plane. Imagine suddenly gaining true empathy and remorse for a lifetime of evil deeds. Possibly several lifetimes. Now imagine that the one person you were close to, the only one that could understand you before, has no idea what you're going through and resents you for it. Wouldn't that be just awful?"
Tyrone tilts its head. "Huh." It stomps out the flames quite brutally.
She chuckles "It sounds like you have personal experience in that field."
"I hate him.." Home says, stomping up the already horribly damaged stairs.
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"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
"Hyacinthe Chassuer, at your service." He has a lowbrow Irish accent, which is another interesting contrast. "My job used to put me into contact with curses quite often. I'm glad I've learned enough to be able to recognize them at this point. Do you have a taste for game, Lady Merabelle? Monstrous or otherwise?"
She nods “Any kind of game is perfectly fine, I ain’t a picky eater, especially when it comes to the creatures, or people, I end up eatin’.” She seems to enjoy his very presence “You could recognize a cannibal when you see one, that’s a pretty talent. I like yer accent.” She says, leaning against the wall of stone.
"Why thank you. My employers despised me for it. Said it wasn't French enough for a chef. Now," he claps his hands, "I need money, and judging by your curse, you need a way to get fresh meat without having to worry about authorities. They likely aren't so much a problem as a minor nuisance, given your strength, but someone of your stature need not bother themselves with such inconveniences. As someone who is both highly desperate and equally skilled, I would like to help. I will put it quite simply: would you like to get first pick at any game I bring in? You'd be buying it wholesale, of course, meaning much cheaper and fresher than most vendors would dare sell."
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Samaritan storms through the bustling kitchen, his voice booming as he reprimands the staff to quicken their pace. The clatter of pots and the sizzling of ingredients fill the air, but his authoritative presence demands immediate compliance. Meanwhile, in his office, he meticulously tallies the restaurant's earnings, a thick cigar firmly gripped between the teeth of his middle head, smoke curling lazily around him as he assesses the day's success.
Stroth sits in the bustling tavern, her fingers deftly tracing intricate sigils onto the surfaces of nearby objects. With each delicate stroke, she imbues them with hidden power, transforming mundane items into formidable weapons ready for battle. The glow of the tavern's flickering candles reflects off her concentrated face, illuminating the bizarre symbols that swirl together, hinting at secrets waiting to be unleashed.
Home is beating the absolute living [GP] out of a body writhing in the body bag, his face cold and neutral despite the body's scream for help.
KK enters the Inn, noticing Stroth carving the symbols and moving over to her. "What are you doing working on?"
Her head snaps around, chuckling madly "If someone taps these little sigils here, they'll turn into straight weapons for the user!"
She looks over at the imbued objects with a similarly unhinged sense of glee. "Ooh, that sounds so cool! What are you making them for?"
"Just in case anyone needs them!" She stands up and places a finger over the sigil. The chair begins to levitate and turn in on itself, defying any law of physics as it begins to turn into a sword.
*Sorry about the delay*
KK is in awe. "That's awesome! How do you do it?"
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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)
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*Yay, I was mentioned specifically!*
"Hyacinthe Chassuer, at your service." He has a lowbrow Irish accent, which is another interesting contrast. "My job used to put me into contact with curses quite often. I'm glad I've learned enough to be able to recognize them at this point. Do you have a taste for game, Lady Merabelle? Monstrous or otherwise?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Cut for Salem.*
He reaches out a hand, the sound of crunching bone filling the air “No… I can do something. Need to have time to waste.”
“Ytrasilen? I’ve been there, not from though.” His voice matching his appearance, old and wise “Went there during a war general apprenticeship.”
She giggles madly, her checks and ears turning red. "I am not beautiful. I am quite ugly."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
She nods “Any kind of game is perfectly fine, I ain’t a picky eater, especially when it comes to the creatures, or people, I end up eatin’.” She seems to enjoy his very presence “You could recognize a cannibal when you see one, that’s a pretty talent. I like yer accent.” She says, leaning against the wall of stone.
“You ain’t ugly at all, the fact that you think that means I apparently don’t love ya enough. I’ll have to fix that.” He refills their drinks.
He seems even more impressed now. "Quite interesting! A clever piece of woodwork indeed! Now, my wealth is meager, but as I seem to be the only person here at this exact moment, I feel justified in taking up more of your attention. Do you happen to have any thread? I need something sturdy, and earthly grass is not proper for the creation of boots and warm clothing."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
She downs in a few sips and chuckles "I know you love me."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"I have a much crueler plane. Imagine suddenly gaining true empathy and remorse for a lifetime of evil deeds. Possibly several lifetimes. Now imagine that the one person you were close to, the only one that could understand you before, has no idea what you're going through and resents you for it. Wouldn't that be just awful?"
Tyrone tilts its head. "Huh." It stomps out the flames quite brutally.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He holds up a skull, gold plated and bejeweled, as well as what appears to be a single ring, made for someone like him, huge.
He nods, setting down cards like the game is played “That was a long time ago, back when I was a young stud, rather than some old geezer. I enjoyed my time there, it changed my life for the better. I’m Winston, and you are?”
He downs another, planning on getting himself drunk tonight “Then you better love yourself, or I’ll have to love you harder until you do.”
She chuckles "It sounds like you have personal experience in that field."
"I hate him.." Home says, stomping up the already horribly damaged stairs.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"Why thank you. My employers despised me for it. Said it wasn't French enough for a chef. Now," he claps his hands, "I need money, and judging by your curse, you need a way to get fresh meat without having to worry about authorities. They likely aren't so much a problem as a minor nuisance, given your strength, but someone of your stature need not bother themselves with such inconveniences. As someone who is both highly desperate and equally skilled, I would like to help. I will put it quite simply: would you like to get first pick at any game I bring in? You'd be buying it wholesale, of course, meaning much cheaper and fresher than most vendors would dare sell."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Sorry about the delay*
KK is in awe. "That's awesome! How do you do it?"
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)