A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Woah, no fighting yet," He says, grabbing their arm
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
"I don't have to anything for anyone anymore" he hissed and leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry, but that is not your decision to make. But if you insist on not helping, then you are welcome to fight the hordes of Drowned Ones and demons yourself."
His tone remains steady and unamused.
"No" he said and grinned
"I'm sorry again, but, uh, what gave you the impression that you have a choice? You see, I am an exception to many laws, as is my company. You will cooperate, or you will die. That is not a threat, that is a fact."
"No" he said again with a chuckle
"Worthless folks like you don't tend to last very long once I move in. I suggest you get packing. Of course, if you're too useless to do even that, you are welcome to die instead."
"No im good" he said with a kind grin as he messed with his dagger
"What a shame. There would have been so many opportunities for someone like you. Pity you chose the latter option."
He pulls out a device that looks like a random mash of magic items wired into a sending stone. He points what looks like a mirror towards the warrior for about a second, then puts the item away.
"Sure hope you're either very rich or very good at foraging."
Paladis shrugs "Only good at one thing and thats slaughter"
"I see. People like you are worth a dime a dozen. Almost literally. I've hired about half of your folk and watched the other half die of violence, starvation, or infection. Like you will."
"Okie dokie then" he chuckles and picks his teeth with his dagger
The man smiles briefly. "Let me explain. I've marked you. You are now untouchable. The only places that will dare to heal you, feed you, protect you, shelter you, or even sell to you are far from what you would call 'legal,' 'sanitary,' or 'safe.' Hope you're really good at that whole slaughter thing you do, because you're going to have to kill almost every authority figure you meet, on the material plane or in the Hells."
Vivian walks over, "I can heal him." She smiles
Paladis grumbles "Didn't i tell you to stay away from me kid?"
"Yeah, but i don't care a lot."
He grumbles
"Exactly. Whats with the tax collector?"
"No idea" he grumbles
"Whats the point of a tax?"
"Im not sure"
Vivian nods, sitting down
Paladis sits down across from her and stares out the window
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
The chimera is sitting on the floor in the main room, eating what looks like the tail of a displacer beast
Aovin is heavily drunk despite having only drinken half an ale
-open slot-
Xan was in the library. He was messing with a polished wooden yew lyre. He plucked at the strings gently and stared at the ceiling.
Cold is watching over Aovin, sipping rose tea.
Paladis is outside, sparring with an animated wooden training dummy.
After some time, the chimera enters the library, seeming drawn by the music
"Hye cold..... you have like..... 6 hands." Aovin says in a half mumble as he leans on them
Xan looks over at him and narrows his eyes. He is in a form that looks like he came right of a greek story. He sits up and rolls his eyes, leaning on his hand "What do you want?"
Cold pats his head "Little brother of mine, you are drunken"
"Hm, you look funny." He replys, sitting down nearby, "I just heard the sounds and decided to check them out."
"Your drunkener." He replys with a hiccup
He stares at the Chimera for a moment before it melts away into a his real form (PFP above). "There, the real me" His skin is peppered with bullet holes.
Cold narrows his eyes and places and hand on his head and casts 'Lesser restoration"
"You are full of atleast one more hole than usual."
"Ugh...." Aovin murmers, looking like he's going to throw up, but no longer drunk
Xan rolls his eyes "did you come in here to bother me?"
Cold smiles behind his mask "You ok?"
"Sorta yep."
"I feel like i tripped down stairs, but yeah"
Xan rolls his eyes and lies on the couch again, trying to ignore the chimera.
cold chuckles a bit "why was i expecting worse?"
They just keep watching them
"Cause i'm a light-weight"
""Take your eyes off me" he said and rolls over to his side.
"Of course you are" he said with another chuckle
"Last i checked they were still in my head."
"I don't drink a lot, its hell!" He sighs
"You take things to literally" he says and rolls his eyes.
Cold continues to pat his little brother head
"Yes, yes i do." He nods
aovin leans into the pats
"Go away" he says and puts a pillow over his own eyes.
Cold chuckles "Weirdo"
"mmmm, no." he replys, sitting on the floor infront of him
"You're not any more normal than me." He laughs
Xan rolls to his side, away from him. he was obviously trying to ignore him.
"I suppose" he said with a chuckle
After a few seconds, the chimera gets borde and starts to mess with them, poking them with his tail
Aovin smiles and continues leaning against them
Xan grumbles "Off" he says.
Cold chuckles and allows him "Drink some tea, it will make you feel better"
They respond to this by getting on the couch with him
"But tea tastes weird"
Xan turns around with an annoyed look on his face "Off.
"you are welcome" he said and chuckled. "tell me, do you know I can't feel love? Its interesting, I can't feel compassion or a sense of needing to besides someone. Only lust"
Emmet smiles (Deception 10) "That must be horrible."
Insight 33
He really feels like frowning.
"Did that strike a nerve with you? All i am doing is telling you the truth because i can tell, deep down inside you, your drawn to me"
Emmet grimaces. "..."
"Was i correct?" he askes
"Bingo."
Xan chuckles "Tell me. What do you desire in a person. Are they strong, handsome?" he askes
Emmet takes a seat and motions for Xan to do the same. "Sure."
Xan chuckles and sits on Emmet's lap instead "Tell me, what is it that you desire in me?" he askes, his eyes turning a lustrous gold color.
Emmet tenses up. "Err..."
"Thats not an answer" he says and chuckles
Emmet's answer comes out rushed. "For you to recognize my devotion and love."
"HA!" Xan laughs and covers his face in his hands, laughing. He wipes away tears "You think i want to be like this? I know you love me but you don't fully understand, I can't love"
Emmet holds his hands. "We can try to fix it."
"Fine. Lets try step one then" he said and grinned. Suddenly his form melted away into a young man with short brown hair and a close shaven stubbly beard. he has bullet holes peppered through him, all over his skin. "The real me, Do you still love it despite it being ruined?"
Emmet doesn't flinch. "Of course I do."
"I am trash Emmet. I can't love you, i can only lust for you" he said, something changed in his eyes, a sad look. "Go find yourself a man or woman who loves you back"
Emmet frowns and stands up. He grabs his cane and stalks off to the woods.
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
Cold hisses "back off"
He doesn't look impressed. "My work is too important to be interrupted by the likes of you." He starts walking away.
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
The chimera is sitting on the floor in the main room, eating what looks like the tail of a displacer beast
Aovin is heavily drunk despite having only drinken half an ale
-open slot-
Xan was in the library. He was messing with a polished wooden yew lyre. He plucked at the strings gently and stared at the ceiling.
Cold is watching over Aovin, sipping rose tea.
Paladis is outside, sparring with an animated wooden training dummy.
After some time, the chimera enters the library, seeming drawn by the music
"Hye cold..... you have like..... 6 hands." Aovin says in a half mumble as he leans on them
Xan looks over at him and narrows his eyes. He is in a form that looks like he came right of a greek story. He sits up and rolls his eyes, leaning on his hand "What do you want?"
Cold pats his head "Little brother of mine, you are drunken"
"Hm, you look funny." He replys, sitting down nearby, "I just heard the sounds and decided to check them out."
"Your drunkener." He replys with a hiccup
He stares at the Chimera for a moment before it melts away into a his real form (PFP above). "There, the real me" His skin is peppered with bullet holes.
Cold narrows his eyes and places and hand on his head and casts 'Lesser restoration"
"You are full of atleast one more hole than usual."
"Ugh...." Aovin murmers, looking like he's going to throw up, but no longer drunk
Xan rolls his eyes "did you come in here to bother me?"
Cold smiles behind his mask "You ok?"
"Sorta yep."
"I feel like i tripped down stairs, but yeah"
Xan rolls his eyes and lies on the couch again, trying to ignore the chimera.
cold chuckles a bit "why was i expecting worse?"
They just keep watching them
"Cause i'm a light-weight"
""Take your eyes off me" he said and rolls over to his side.
"Of course you are" he said with another chuckle
"Last i checked they were still in my head."
"I don't drink a lot, its hell!" He sighs
"You take things to literally" he says and rolls his eyes.
Cold continues to pat his little brother head
"Yes, yes i do." He nods
aovin leans into the pats
"Go away" he says and puts a pillow over his own eyes.
Cold chuckles "Weirdo"
"mmmm, no." he replys, sitting on the floor infront of him
"You're not any more normal than me." He laughs
Xan rolls to his side, away from him. he was obviously trying to ignore him.
"I suppose" he said with a chuckle
After a few seconds, the chimera gets borde and starts to mess with them, poking them with his tail
Aovin smiles and continues leaning against them
Xan grumbles "Off" he says.
Cold chuckles and allows him "Drink some tea, it will make you feel better"
They respond to this by getting on the couch with him
"But tea tastes weird"
Xan turns around with an annoyed look on his face "Off.
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
"Because it was along my way to the next town for one, and for the other..." He grins, revealing his too-wide mouth and slightly yellowed teeth. "If I don't build the machines, they won't stop at the coast. Something is controlling them. Edging them on. They will tear the entire continent apart before they stop."
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
"Because it was along my way to the next town for one, and for the other..." He grins, revealing his too-wide mouth and slightly yellowed teeth. "If I don't build the machines, they won't stop at the coast. Something is controlling them. Edging them on. They will tear the entire continent apart before they stop."
"... Or we kill them. What type of demon are they?"
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
"Because it was along my way to the next town for one, and for the other..." He grins, revealing his too-wide mouth and slightly yellowed teeth. "If I don't build the machines, they won't stop at the coast. Something is controlling them. Edging them on. They will tear the entire continent apart before they stop."
"... Or we kill them. What type of demon are they?"
"Rutterkin are common, as are Alkaliths, but Wastriliths come in their hundreds. As I said, the silver blades are barely functional against most of them."
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
"Because it was along my way to the next town for one, and for the other..." He grins, revealing his too-wide mouth and slightly yellowed teeth. "If I don't build the machines, they won't stop at the coast. Something is controlling them. Edging them on. They will tear the entire continent apart before they stop."
"... Or we kill them. What type of demon are they?"
"Rutterkin are common, as are Alkaliths, but Wastriliths come in their hundreds. As I said, the silver blades are barely functional against most of them."
"Then why not use some sort of holy method if you want to get rid of them?" He asks
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
"Because it was along my way to the next town for one, and for the other..." He grins, revealing his too-wide mouth and slightly yellowed teeth. "If I don't build the machines, they won't stop at the coast. Something is controlling them. Edging them on. They will tear the entire continent apart before they stop."
"... Or we kill them. What type of demon are they?"
"Rutterkin are common, as are Alkaliths, but Wastriliths come in their hundreds. As I said, the silver blades are barely functional against most of them."
"Then why not use some sort of holy method if you want to get rid of them?" He asks
"Wow. If only my family hadn't made deals with devils for the past 300 years and cursed the entire Grouper bloodline. Then I would totally be a cleric and have some cleric friends. Okay, sarcasm aside, turns out holy water quickly reaches a level of dilution that makes it worthless when exposed to normal water."
Naibs of Dune, I'm the supreme meowster of the cult of cats!, Head lobotomizer of the OIADSB cult, I've got a thieves guild, come join, Warlock main in D2.
Don't forget to love each other!
I play characters at taverns.
[ He/him ] [Shout out to my 11 followers] [ If you think I haven't responded to something check my posts.]
Join Calius & Kothar industries. We have good pay, plus dental! see tavern for details
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
"Because it was along my way to the next town for one, and for the other..." He grins, revealing his too-wide mouth and slightly yellowed teeth. "If I don't build the machines, they won't stop at the coast. Something is controlling them. Edging them on. They will tear the entire continent apart before they stop."
"... Or we kill them. What type of demon are they?"
"Rutterkin are common, as are Alkaliths, but Wastriliths come in their hundreds. As I said, the silver blades are barely functional against most of them."
"Then why not use some sort of holy method if you want to get rid of them?" He asks
"Wow. If only my family hadn't made deals with devils for the past 300 years and cursed the entire Grouper bloodline. Then I would totally be a cleric and have some cleric friends. Okay, sarcasm aside, turns out holy water quickly reaches a level of dilution that makes it worthless when exposed to normal water."
"...I'm litterally a tiefling, don't talk to me about cursed devil deals."
A massive, smog-belching, oil-dripping trawler/U-boat hybrid comes ashore at the nearby docks. The Fleisher is written on the hull. A man steps off of it.
He has pale skin and a yellow bowl cut that partially covers his dull eyes. He wears a yellow tie with three red eyes on it, a long, leather apron, a dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, work boots, and work gloves. On his hip is some sort of heavily modified flintlock pistol.
Beside him is a broken-down-looking, two-headed, mechanical gnoll. Its glowing red eyes shine through broken lenses.
The man walks toward the inn. Doesn't stride, doesn't run, just walks.
The warrior (From above) looks out the window at them and tilts his head
The man and the machine enter the inn. The man pins a note to the job board, which states that "Grouper Corp" will be building a meat cannery in the area, and that jobs will be given out with no requirements as long as you can show up on time.
It also mentions that anyone who stands in the way of the construction will be escorted to the afterlife promptly.
Paladis (Thats his name) walks over and tilts his head. Suddenly he cracks his neck to the side. Two pairs of crimson-red wings unfolded from under the tunic and he stretched.
The man doesn't seem impressed, or even interested. "Do you want something?"
The man shakes his head and walks back to his table.
The inventor puts a box on the table. It reads "Taxes."
The man clears his throat.
"Due to the rising threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from the local waters, I have decided to place various defenses along the entire coast. You will all help, whether through paying for fuel or working on the machine. This is non-negotiable. As long as you remain in the area, it is your civil duty to protect yourself and others in this way."
Aovin raises his hand, "As a demon i'm offended."
"To be clear, I said 'threat of demonic and undead forces emerging from local waters.' You do not appear to be a threat at the moment, nor are you emerging from local waters."
"Still, those are like my cousins or something."
"Well, I'm sorry, I'm still going to set up miles of spinning, slivered blades along the coastlines. If they happen to swim into the obvious, shining metal, it's their loss. It's not like they can actually die on the material plane anyway."
"....Do you think silver harms all demonic creatures?"
Cold appears and narrows his lighting blue eyes behind the white mask "What is going on brother?"
"This guy is setting up stuff on the coast to kill undead and demons and is also trying to make us pay for it for some reason."
"That sounds like utter (GP)" he said and pulled out his bladed rings.
"Put those away. If you want to welcome the Drowned Ones in with open arms, go right ahead. I'm paying for 78% of the machine anyway."
"I'm not gonna pay for something i didn't ask for," Aovin says, "And i'm broke."
"You don't have to pay for it if you do some work to help."
"You'd have to pay me for that though."
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
"Because it was along my way to the next town for one, and for the other..." He grins, revealing his too-wide mouth and slightly yellowed teeth. "If I don't build the machines, they won't stop at the coast. Something is controlling them. Edging them on. They will tear the entire continent apart before they stop."
"... Or we kill them. What type of demon are they?"
"Rutterkin are common, as are Alkaliths, but Wastriliths come in their hundreds. As I said, the silver blades are barely functional against most of them."
"Then why not use some sort of holy method if you want to get rid of them?" He asks
"Wow. If only my family hadn't made deals with devils for the past 300 years and cursed the entire Grouper bloodline. Then I would totally be a cleric and have some cleric friends. Okay, sarcasm aside, turns out holy water quickly reaches a level of dilution that makes it worthless when exposed to normal water."
"...I'm litterally a tiefling, don't talk to me about cursed devil deals."
"Sorry, it is more of a mark than a curse. My family, while still 'human' in a basic sense, register in the senses of holy men, women, and otherwise as pure, embodied evil. That, and the fact that we are vulnerable to holy water and radiant energy. I apologize for 'insulting' your proud race, but other than your appearance, tieflings seem to have very little wrong with them."
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
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"You'd have to pay me for that though."
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
He rubs his temples. "Fine. A hundred gold, you drag scrap metal over to the coast for me."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Thank you." Aovin sighs softly
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"Soooo, what brings you to this dimension?"
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"And what if i don't want to help you murder random demons and undead?"
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"If you want to go talk to them and tell them to stop slaughtering coastal villages, be my guest. I'm a bit tired of trying at this point, so I moved on to plan B: being the lesser of two evils."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Cold hisses "back off"
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
Xan turns around with an annoyed look on his face "Off.
"drink ya dumb arse"
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
Emmet frowns and stands up. He grabs his cane and stalks off to the woods.
Extended Sig (Now updated!)
(He/Him)
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
He doesn't look impressed. "My work is too important to be interrupted by the likes of you." He starts walking away.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Honestly, i probably could. But why come to the one place not near the coast to ask for donations?"
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"Nope"
"Ugh, fine." They sip the tea
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"Because it was along my way to the next town for one, and for the other..." He grins, revealing his too-wide mouth and slightly yellowed teeth. "If I don't build the machines, they won't stop at the coast. Something is controlling them. Edging them on. They will tear the entire continent apart before they stop."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"... Or we kill them. What type of demon are they?"
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"Rutterkin are common, as are Alkaliths, but Wastriliths come in their hundreds. As I said, the silver blades are barely functional against most of them."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Then why not use some sort of holy method if you want to get rid of them?" He asks
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"Wow. If only my family hadn't made deals with devils for the past 300 years and cursed the entire Grouper bloodline. Then I would totally be a cleric and have some cleric friends. Okay, sarcasm aside, turns out holy water quickly reaches a level of dilution that makes it worthless when exposed to normal water."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Yoooo*
Naibs of Dune, I'm the supreme meowster of the cult of cats!, Head lobotomizer of the OIADSB cult, I've got a thieves guild, come join, Warlock main in D2.
Don't forget to love each other!
I play characters at taverns.
[ He/him ] [Shout out to my 11 followers] [ If you think I haven't responded to something check my posts.]
Join Calius & Kothar industries. We have good pay, plus dental! see tavern for details
"...I'm litterally a tiefling, don't talk to me about cursed devil deals."
I play a miriad of characters at the lord's rest inn
Two things are infinite: The universe, and human stupidity; and I'm not so sure about the universe.
Scifi horror is quite the trip :) Comics and a story
#FreeDND
"Sorry, it is more of a mark than a curse. My family, while still 'human' in a basic sense, register in the senses of holy men, women, and otherwise as pure, embodied evil. That, and the fact that we are vulnerable to holy water and radiant energy. I apologize for 'insulting' your proud race, but other than your appearance, tieflings seem to have very little wrong with them."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels