*Looks like Jobah’s gone, anyone want to roleplay while I’m still here? If so, do you want anyone specific?*
*sure!*
A mysterious salesman has appeared at the inn, hawking about a new product that revolutionizes golem technology
Damian walks outside to check out the salesman, raising an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
He continues his shpeil to nobody in particular, waiting for someone to get interested enough that he can move in for the sale
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles) Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, your favorite pretty boy, and certified silly goose
The song is suddenly interrupted by what sounds like distorted crying. The age of the sobbing aggrieved is indeterminate, anywhere from an infant to an old man. It seems to be coming from near the lake.
The singing continues, but the path of the large creature shifts as they begin to make their way to the lake to find the source of the crying.
By the lake is what looks to be a humanoid, lying on the bank and wrapped in a net. Its flesh is pale and semi-transparent, bleeding blue-green bioluminescence onto the ground where the creature has been cut by the rope. Its pitch-black eyes are squeezed shut under translucent eyelids as it tries to shield itself from the light, sobbing and wailing.
This thing, this abomination, should not exist on this plane. It likely should not exist period. A nightmare made flesh.
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.
*Looks like Jobah’s gone, anyone want to roleplay while I’m still here? If so, do you want anyone specific?*
*sure!*
A mysterious salesman has appeared at the inn, hawking about a new product that revolutionizes golem technology
Damian walks outside to check out the salesman, raising an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
He continues his shpeil to nobody in particular, waiting for someone to get interested enough that he can move in for the sale
He sighs, walking over to them “Hey, Damian Alterious. What are you going on about?” He says, smiling charismatically, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
*Looks like Jobah’s gone, anyone want to roleplay while I’m still here? If so, do you want anyone specific?*
*Baalze?*
*Give me Rag.*
There is the sound of distorted sobbing coming from the lake. An infant, an old man, an injured dog, all sorts of distressing cries to make one thing clear: I am in pain. Help me.
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.
There is the sound of distorted sobbing coming from the lake. An infant, an old man, an injured dog, all sorts of distressing cries to make one thing clear: I am in pain. Help me.
*Rag you get.*
Rag walks through the forest, headed towards the lake with heavy steps, whistling to himself as he carries something over his shoulder. He hears the cries and immediately begins heading over.
There is the sound of distorted sobbing coming from the lake. An infant, an old man, an injured dog, all sorts of distressing cries to make one thing clear: I am in pain. Help me.
*Rag you get.*
Rag walks through the forest, headed towards the lake with heavy steps, whistling to himself as he carries something over his shoulder. He hears the cries and immediately begins heading over.
By the lake is what looks to be a humanoid, kneeling on the bank and gripping the earth. Its flesh is pale and semi-transparent, bleeding blue-green bioluminescence onto the ground. Rag has never seen anything like it, even in the depths of the ocean, assuming he's been there.
It screams in agony as it rips a fish hook from a flap of flesh, tossing it aside before burying its hairless head in its arms, moaning and sobbing.
This thing should not be.
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.
*Looks like Jobah’s gone, anyone want to roleplay while I’m still here? If so, do you want anyone specific?*
*sure!*
A mysterious salesman has appeared at the inn, hawking about a new product that revolutionizes golem technology
Damian walks outside to check out the salesman, raising an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
He continues his shpeil to nobody in particular, waiting for someone to get interested enough that he can move in for the sale
He sighs, walking over to them “Hey, Damian Alterious. What are you going on about?” He says, smiling charismatically, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
"Well, you see, I've made a breakthrough regarding golems! How would you like to have a personal assistant? One that doesn't sleep, eat, and doesn't leave clay residue on everything? I present to you, the dollem ~cough~name pending~cough~" He lifts a cloth up as if concealing something, and when he drops it, a human-like figure of baked clay is there. If it weren't for their unpainted appearance and visible joints, they could pass for a human, maybe.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles) Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, your favorite pretty boy, and certified silly goose
There is the sound of distorted sobbing coming from the lake. An infant, an old man, an injured dog, all sorts of distressing cries to make one thing clear: I am in pain. Help me.
*Rag you get.*
Rag walks through the forest, headed towards the lake with heavy steps, whistling to himself as he carries something over his shoulder. He hears the cries and immediately begins heading over.
By the lake is what looks to be a humanoid, kneeling on the bank and gripping the earth. Its flesh is pale and semi-transparent, bleeding blue-green bioluminescence onto the ground. Rag has never seen anything like it, even in the depths of the ocean, assuming he's been there.
It screams in agony as it rips a fish hook from a flap of flesh, tossing it aside before burying its hairless head in its arms, moaning and sobbing.
This thing should not be.
He walks to the creature, playing his things down as he approaches, leaning down to them his eyes soft with understanding and worry. He tries to assess the situation, thinking of what he can possibly do for them, though what he can do is likely very limited.
The song is suddenly interrupted by what sounds like distorted crying. The age of the sobbing aggrieved is indeterminate, anywhere from an infant to an old man. It seems to be coming from near the lake.
The singing continues, but the path of the large creature shifts as they begin to make their way to the lake to find the source of the crying.
By the lake is what looks to be a humanoid, lying on the bank and wrapped in a net. Its flesh is pale and semi-transparent, bleeding blue-green bioluminescence onto the ground where the creature has been cut by the rope. Its pitch-black eyes are squeezed shut under translucent eyelids as it tries to shield itself from the light, sobbing and wailing.
This thing, this abomination, should not exist on this plane. It likely should not exist period. A nightmare made flesh.
As the creature reaches where the trees end and the lake begins, the singing softens to a delicate and gentle tone, as large roots begin to rise up and created a dome around the fish creature to shield it from the sun. Smalls thorny vines begin to snake their way up between the netting, gently slicing individual sections as the net begins to fall off. A blanket of lichin begins to cover the cuts and scraps on the creature's body, acting as a natural form a bandaging. Through the singing, whispering words the abomination can understand echos. "Calm your soul strange child, you are alright within my song."
*Looks like Jobah’s gone, anyone want to roleplay while I’m still here? If so, do you want anyone specific?*
*sure!*
A mysterious salesman has appeared at the inn, hawking about a new product that revolutionizes golem technology
Damian walks outside to check out the salesman, raising an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
He continues his shpeil to nobody in particular, waiting for someone to get interested enough that he can move in for the sale
He sighs, walking over to them “Hey, Damian Alterious. What are you going on about?” He says, smiling charismatically, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
"Well, you see, I've made a breakthrough regarding golems! How would you like to have a personal assistant? One that doesn't sleep, eat, and doesn't leave clay residue on everything? I present to you, the dollem ~cough~name pending~cough~" He lifts a cloth up as if concealing something, and when he drops it, a human-like figure of baked clay is there. If it weren't for their unpainted appearance and visible joints, they could pass for a human, maybe.
He looks at the clay golem, “You want to sell a golem out of clay? An interesting proposition, are they willing to do anything someone else can do? Also you need a much better name. I would be happy to help you along with that, but I don’t have much that I’ll likely need help with.”
*Looks like Jobah’s gone, anyone want to roleplay while I’m still here? If so, do you want anyone specific?*
*Noctis could interact with one of your other characters*
*What vibes would you want to deal with Noctis? Rag maybe.*
*I'd be good with that*
Rag is walking around the forest, a bag carrying all of his things over his shoulder, as he whistles to himself, happy just to exist every day.
A hundred feet or so away, someone steps out of the shadows, looking around. He appears to be a young man stands 6'2" tall in a black and gold jacket, an undershirt with a demonic symbol of the sin of pride in rainbow color, and blue jeans. His hair is black and wild, with two large black demon horns sticking up and red slitted eyes observing the area around him. His nose and mouth, lowers arms and hands, and lower legs and feet are covered in darkness that give the man a more half-demon look.
By the lake is what looks to be a humanoid, kneeling on the bank and gripping the earth. Its flesh is pale and semi-transparent, bleeding blue-green bioluminescence onto the ground. Rag has never seen anything like it, even in the depths of the ocean, assuming he's been there.
It screams in agony as it rips a fish hook from a flap of flesh, tossing it aside before burying its hairless head in its arms, moaning and sobbing.
This thing should not be.
He walks to the creature, playing his things down as he approaches, leaning down to them his eyes soft with understanding and worry. He tries to assess the situation, thinking of what he can possibly do for them, though what he can do is likely very limited.
It places a twisted claw on his shin, not to harm, but simply to feel him. It looks up with pitch-black eyes and begins to vocalize a choked, inhuman noise. Deep Speech. But in Rag's head, he can hear his son as a young boy, the equivalent of a six-year-old human, pained and afraid. "What is this place? What are you? Why does it hurt so much?"
It takes a moment, but Rag realizes that his mind is processing its voice based on the emotional signals it's giving him. Something that needs to be protected and cared for. Desperate for any sort of succor.
This is either a child or a parasite, and either one is a terrifying thought.
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.
Damian is now wearing a fake mustache and is considering cutting his hair as he serves up meals in the morning.
Merabelle happens to be taking part in the Druidic side of herself, her soft brown hair tied into braids, his overalls stained by the grass and paint.
Mauric is at the bar, still looking fraught and fretful. “You probably should shear off your horns if you really want them to not find you.”
Loud metallic clanging echoes throughout the woods.
He takes a second to think about it before saying “Yeah you’re probably right.” He grabs a large knife, feeling for his horns “You shouldn’t be afraid though, just stop being my friend and you’re safe.”
Merabelle decides to investigate, moving through the forest with quick, light steps.
“No no I was kidding!” He says hurriedly. “And I’m not gonna leave you in this mess all by yourself. Not a chance.”
Loriche is trying to work on Charlie’s new umbrella, but the metal is proving difficult to render properly.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Looks like Jobah’s gone, anyone want to roleplay while I’m still here? If so, do you want anyone specific?*
*sure!*
A mysterious salesman has appeared at the inn, hawking about a new product that revolutionizes golem technology
Damian walks outside to check out the salesman, raising an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
He continues his shpeil to nobody in particular, waiting for someone to get interested enough that he can move in for the sale
He sighs, walking over to them “Hey, Damian Alterious. What are you going on about?” He says, smiling charismatically, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
"Well, you see, I've made a breakthrough regarding golems! How would you like to have a personal assistant? One that doesn't sleep, eat, and doesn't leave clay residue on everything? I present to you, the dollem ~cough~name pending~cough~" He lifts a cloth up as if concealing something, and when he drops it, a human-like figure of baked clay is there. If it weren't for their unpainted appearance and visible joints, they could pass for a human, maybe.
He looks at the clay golem, “You want to sell a golem out of clay? An interesting proposition, are they willing to do anything someone else can do? Also you need a much better name. I would be happy to help you along with that, but I don’t have much that I’ll likely need help with.”
"No man is an island, you know." he continues selling "Some may argue that baked clay defeats the entire purpose of a golem, but I ensure you, we thought out everything. You see, the clay that this golem is constructed from is cured in a very special way. A little bit of magical encouragement..." he summons a purple magic flame and holds it to the golem's ear, making the thing wince and reel. "Stay still!" he instructs it, forming its ear into a pointed shape. "You can mold it however you'd like! Of course, we do make them to order depending on what their purpose will be. A golem made to wait on guests will have to be made differently from a golem that is used to mine"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles) Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, your favorite pretty boy, and certified silly goose
By the lake is what looks to be a humanoid, lying on the bank and wrapped in a net. Its flesh is pale and semi-transparent, bleeding blue-green bioluminescence onto the ground where the creature has been cut by the rope. Its pitch-black eyes are squeezed shut under translucent eyelids as it tries to shield itself from the light, sobbing and wailing.
This thing, this abomination, should not exist on this plane. It likely should not exist period. A nightmare made flesh.
As the creature reaches where the trees end and the lake begins, the singing softens to a delicate and gentle tone, as large roots begin to rise up and created a dome around the fish creature to shield it from the sun. Smalls thorny vines begin to snake their way up between the netting, gently slicing individual sections as the net begins to fall off. A blanket of lichin begins to cover the cuts and scraps on the creature's body, acting as a natural form a bandaging. Through the singing, whispering words the abomination can understand echos. "Calm your soul strange child, you are alright within my song."
It gasps, its strained voice free from pain and grief. It shudders, whispering in Deep Speech. Its voice is that of a frail child in the being's head, but in the physical world, it sounds more like a wizened man. The two voices contrast somewhat disturbingly. "Thank you... thank you... What is this place? I don't understand... It's so bright and still... Where are my brothers? My sisters? Is this... the real world? Am I awake?"
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.
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
Damian walks outside to check out the salesman, raising an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
*What vibes would you want to deal with Noctis? Rag maybe.*
He continues his shpeil to nobody in particular, waiting for someone to get interested enough that he can move in for the sale
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles)
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, your favorite pretty boy, and certified silly goose
By the lake is what looks to be a humanoid, lying on the bank and wrapped in a net. Its flesh is pale and semi-transparent, bleeding blue-green bioluminescence onto the ground where the creature has been cut by the rope. Its pitch-black eyes are squeezed shut under translucent eyelids as it tries to shield itself from the light, sobbing and wailing.
This thing, this abomination, should not exist on this plane. It likely should not exist period. A nightmare made flesh.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He sighs, walking over to them “Hey, Damian Alterious. What are you going on about?” He says, smiling charismatically, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.
*Baalze?*
*Give me Rag.*
There is the sound of distorted sobbing coming from the lake. An infant, an old man, an injured dog, all sorts of distressing cries to make one thing clear: I am in pain. Help me.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Rag you get.*
Rag walks through the forest, headed towards the lake with heavy steps, whistling to himself as he carries something over his shoulder. He hears the cries and immediately begins heading over.
*I'd be good with that*
By the lake is what looks to be a humanoid, kneeling on the bank and gripping the earth. Its flesh is pale and semi-transparent, bleeding blue-green bioluminescence onto the ground. Rag has never seen anything like it, even in the depths of the ocean, assuming he's been there.
It screams in agony as it rips a fish hook from a flap of flesh, tossing it aside before burying its hairless head in its arms, moaning and sobbing.
This thing should not be.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Rag is walking around the forest, a bag carrying all of his things over his shoulder, as he whistles to himself, happy just to exist every day.
"Well, you see, I've made a breakthrough regarding golems! How would you like to have a personal assistant? One that doesn't sleep, eat, and doesn't leave clay residue on everything? I present to you, the dollem ~cough~name pending~cough~" He lifts a cloth up as if concealing something, and when he drops it, a human-like figure of baked clay is there. If it weren't for their unpainted appearance and visible joints, they could pass for a human, maybe.
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles)
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, your favorite pretty boy, and certified silly goose
He walks to the creature, playing his things down as he approaches, leaning down to them his eyes soft with understanding and worry. He tries to assess the situation, thinking of what he can possibly do for them, though what he can do is likely very limited.
As the creature reaches where the trees end and the lake begins, the singing softens to a delicate and gentle tone, as large roots begin to rise up and created a dome around the fish creature to shield it from the sun. Smalls thorny vines begin to snake their way up between the netting, gently slicing individual sections as the net begins to fall off. A blanket of lichin begins to cover the cuts and scraps on the creature's body, acting as a natural form a bandaging. Through the singing, whispering words the abomination can understand echos. "Calm your soul strange child, you are alright within my song."
He looks at the clay golem, “You want to sell a golem out of clay? An interesting proposition, are they willing to do anything someone else can do? Also you need a much better name. I would be happy to help you along with that, but I don’t have much that I’ll likely need help with.”
A hundred feet or so away, someone steps out of the shadows, looking around. He appears to be a young man stands 6'2" tall in a black and gold jacket, an undershirt with a demonic symbol of the sin of pride in rainbow color, and blue jeans. His hair is black and wild, with two large black demon horns sticking up and red slitted eyes observing the area around him. His nose and mouth, lowers arms and hands, and lower legs and feet are covered in darkness that give the man a more half-demon look.
It places a twisted claw on his shin, not to harm, but simply to feel him. It looks up with pitch-black eyes and begins to vocalize a choked, inhuman noise. Deep Speech. But in Rag's head, he can hear his son as a young boy, the equivalent of a six-year-old human, pained and afraid. "What is this place? What are you? Why does it hurt so much?"
It takes a moment, but Rag realizes that his mind is processing its voice based on the emotional signals it's giving him. Something that needs to be protected and cared for. Desperate for any sort of succor.
This is either a child or a parasite, and either one is a terrifying thought.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
“No no I was kidding!” He says hurriedly. “And I’m not gonna leave you in this mess all by yourself. Not a chance.”
Loriche is trying to work on Charlie’s new umbrella, but the metal is proving difficult to render properly.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"No man is an island, you know." he continues selling "Some may argue that baked clay defeats the entire purpose of a golem, but I ensure you, we thought out everything. You see, the clay that this golem is constructed from is cured in a very special way. A little bit of magical encouragement..." he summons a purple magic flame and holds it to the golem's ear, making the thing wince and reel. "Stay still!" he instructs it, forming its ear into a pointed shape. "You can mold it however you'd like! Of course, we do make them to order depending on what their purpose will be. A golem made to wait on guests will have to be made differently from a golem that is used to mine"
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles)
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, your favorite pretty boy, and certified silly goose
It gasps, its strained voice free from pain and grief. It shudders, whispering in Deep Speech. Its voice is that of a frail child in the being's head, but in the physical world, it sounds more like a wizened man. The two voices contrast somewhat disturbingly. "Thank you... thank you... What is this place? I don't understand... It's so bright and still... Where are my brothers? My sisters? Is this... the real world? Am I awake?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.