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?”
"Yes, this will do nicely." he says, taking the skull. "You can keep the ring, it looks sentimental... for this.." he says, holding up the skull and inspecting it. "Is it cursed?"
"Cyvus Ilkwyrm, last of the Ytrasilen King's Gaurd." he says with pride as he sits down, slowly due to age. "A pleasure to meet you, sir." he holds out a large paw to shake their hand.
He nods, making sure to only make slight, careful movements “Cursed. Do not listen to the voices telling you to put it on. Eternal suffering, eternal life.” He says, taking the ring back.
He shakes their head with a respectful, firm handshake “I… am sorry to hear that. I thought Ytrsailen was prospering. It is unfortunate to know that. At least, this game is carried on.”
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.”
"It's hard to love myself.. I know what I am." She said, wringing her hands
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
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."
"Oh, I have several spools!" he says, opening a small drawer, containing multiple spools of thread, ranging in size, color, and material. "You can't go wrong with the wool thread, it'll run you at 4 coppers a spool, but, if you want something fancy.. I have werewolf, but it's pricey, at around 3 silvers. It's expensive for thread, but it's better than wool, and easier to find than unicorn."
"Lycanthropic thread! I never considered the ramifications of hunting werewolves before, but now that I know that it exists, I really must purchase it. I have enough for two spools, and the rest will have to be saved for the acquisition of nourishment. My old masters taught that phrase. Sounds much more eloquent than 'buying food.'" He reaches into his bag and draws out eight silver pieces.
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.
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?"
"Just a bit of fire and metal runes forged together and bound to with arcane magic." She stands up.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"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."
She tilts her head, sitting in the ground “I would love to be buy some meat from you. I’ve got money to spare, an’ I like you. You’re civil, an’ your accent is cute.” She gives him a wide grin, tossing a stone in her hands “Takin’ some food would be real nice, an’ you need it as much as I do.”
"I have a much crueler plan. 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.
"Nah, just like imagining. I can make a better world, but sometimes it's fun to just ruin someone's day when they really deserve it, you know?"
Tyrone looks down at the charred "fake" Home on the floor. It crouches down. "Who are you?"
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 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.”
"It's hard to love myself.. I know what I am." She said, wringing her hands
“And I don’t give to [gp]s what you are, I’ll love ya to the ends of every plane either way.”
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?"
"Just a bit of fire and metal runes forged together and bound to with arcane magic." She stands up.
"Oh, how fun! I know I'm kinda repeating myself, but seriously, that's amazing! You're quite the impressive magic-user."
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)
"I have a much crueler plan. 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.
"Nah, just like imagining. I can make a better world, but sometimes it's fun to just ruin someone's day when they really deserve it, you know?"
Tyrone looks down at the charred "fake" Home on the floor. It crouches down. "Who are you?"
"I agree and disagree as I just like causing as many problems as possible for those that irk me so." She giggles.
It writhes and sobs "My name is Jacob! Please, help me!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
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?”
"Yes, this will do nicely." he says, taking the skull. "You can keep the ring, it looks sentimental... for this.." he says, holding up the skull and inspecting it. "Is it cursed?"
"Cyvus Ilkwyrm, last of the Ytrasilen King's Gaurd." he says with pride as he sits down, slowly due to age. "A pleasure to meet you, sir." he holds out a large paw to shake their hand.
He nods, making sure to only make slight, careful movements “Cursed. Do not listen to the voices telling you to put it on. Eternal suffering, eternal life.” He says, taking the ring back.
He shakes their head with a respectful, firm handshake “I… am sorry to hear that. I thought Ytrsailen was prospering. It is unfortunate to know that. At least, the game is carried on.”
"Okay, this will not do." He says, giving them back the skull. "I don't accept cursed items, I'm afraid."
"Oh, no, it's doing well! It's no longer a monarch, and I am the last living member of what was the guard, though it was dispelled many a year ago. In fact, it's doing better than ever" He says, chuckling and beaming.
He takes it back, nodding “S-sorry. I don’t have anything… other than cursed artifacts. I work for hell.” He shakes his head, crunching bone a constant.
He beams in return, laughing “Good, I am happy to hear that, the monarch wasn’t exactly a good guy regardless. I should visit again one day, it changed my life the first time, it will change my life likely again.”
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.”
"It's hard to love myself.. I know what I am." She said, wringing her hands
“And I don’t give to [gp]s what you are, I’ll love ya to the ends of every plane either way.”
She blinks and attacks him, kissing him all over his face.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
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?"
"Just a bit of fire and metal runes forged together and bound to with arcane magic." She stands up.
"Oh, how fun! I know I'm kinda repeating myself, but seriously, that's amazing! You're quite the impressive magic-user."
"I practiced in my first life, I'll continue into my second and so on and so forth. How are you?" She asks
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
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.”
"It's hard to love myself.. I know what I am." She said, wringing her hands
“And I don’t give to [gp]s what you are, I’ll love ya to the ends of every plane either way.”
She blinks and attacks him, kissing him all over his face.
He lets her do so, holding her across the waist and leaning back in his chair, pulling her with him.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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He nods, making sure to only make slight, careful movements “Cursed. Do not listen to the voices telling you to put it on. Eternal suffering, eternal life.” He says, taking the ring back.
He shakes their head with a respectful, firm handshake “I… am sorry to hear that. I thought Ytrsailen was prospering. It is unfortunate to know that. At least, this game is carried on.”
"It's hard to love myself.. I know what I am." She said, wringing her hands
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"Lycanthropic thread! I never considered the ramifications of hunting werewolves before, but now that I know that it exists, I really must purchase it. I have enough for two spools, and the rest will have to be saved for the acquisition of nourishment. My old masters taught that phrase. Sounds much more eloquent than 'buying food.'" He reaches into his bag and draws out eight silver pieces.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Course!*
Alix is sitting inside, at the bar. He is doodling quietly, sipping a bourbon.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"Just a bit of fire and metal runes forged together and bound to with arcane magic." She stands up.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
She tilts her head, sitting in the ground “I would love to be buy some meat from you. I’ve got money to spare, an’ I like you. You’re civil, an’ your accent is cute.” She gives him a wide grin, tossing a stone in her hands “Takin’ some food would be real nice, an’ you need it as much as I do.”
(evening wendo)
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
I am failure and perfection
Without grace, but I am tired
Of walking life like it's a wire
"Nah, just like imagining. I can make a better world, but sometimes it's fun to just ruin someone's day when they really deserve it, you know?"
Tyrone looks down at the charred "fake" Home on the floor. It crouches down. "Who are you?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Howdy!*
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
“And I don’t give to [gp]s what you are, I’ll love ya to the ends of every plane either way.”
"Oh, how fun! I know I'm kinda repeating myself, but seriously, that's amazing! You're quite the impressive magic-user."
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)
"I agree and disagree as I just like causing as many problems as possible for those that irk me so." She giggles.
It writhes and sobs "My name is Jacob! Please, help me!"
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
(how are you doing)
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
I am failure and perfection
Without grace, but I am tired
Of walking life like it's a wire
He takes it back, nodding “S-sorry. I don’t have anything… other than cursed artifacts. I work for hell.” He shakes his head, crunching bone a constant.
He beams in return, laughing “Good, I am happy to hear that, the monarch wasn’t exactly a good guy regardless. I should visit again one day, it changed my life the first time, it will change my life likely again.”
She blinks and attacks him, kissing him all over his face.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"I practiced in my first life, I'll continue into my second and so on and so forth. How are you?" She asks
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
He lets her do so, holding her across the waist and leaning back in his chair, pulling her with him.