Lord's Rest Inn

Quote from Jobah619Official >>

Quote from Baalzeboop >>

 *Of course!*

(The Warehouse or the Big Burger Beastro?)

Archer Valentine is rampaging through the woods, and more specifically, through the demons that he summoned in the woods to vent his frustrations on.

(the warehouse)

Riotan is also in the woods, preying on some of the lesser demons to slake his sadistic hunger.

 Most of the thugs are still recovering from the battle. A few of them are trying to dispose of the drugs. The ones who are fully aware are giving Thirteen a wide berth, having heard about the necromancer and being just generally afraid of mages.

Several trees are thrown in his general direction.

Quote from WendigoOfLore >>

*anyway, Stroth's new body*

The world around the trees ripples, like when you throw a stone into a lake, changing the surface of the water with a mere action. Through it, an arm suddenly shoots out, a desperate way almost. It seems to defy logic as it presses a hand against the air as if it were solid, another arm joining it. A man steps out from the crack that is made, fingers tearing at the edge of reality as if it were a blanket. 

 

He stands a mere 5'6, nothing horribly tall, with fair skin that color of cut almonds. He has slicked back blackish-brown hair that is cut short and neatly cut around the neck. His light stubble is the same, though it seems to barely be growing. His eyes are orange as the setting sun, glowing slightly with flecks of black in the center. He wears a white button-up dress shirt, a black waistcoat with silver snaps, and a pair of black dress pants. His nails are painted black though it seems to be more of a permanent thing than a choice thing. 

 

He looks around carefully before taking a step and falling straight on his face. He sits up and looks at his legs like they betrayed him. "C'mon... I know this things been in rigor mortis but this is crazy..." He grumbles and tries to stand up again. As if by his will alone, a black cane made of crystalized cubic formations forms in his hand. He looks surprised and smirks to himself "Well I'm glad to know that isn't an issue.."

Malafasa is in her nest beneath a nearby tree, oblivious to the outside proceedings.

Quote from Jobah619Official >>

Quote from WendigoOfLore >>

*anyway, Stroth's new body*

The world around the trees ripples, like when you throw a stone into a lake, changing the surface of the water with a mere action. Through it, an arm suddenly shoots out, a desperate way almost. It seems to defy logic as it presses a hand against the air as if it were solid, another arm joining it. A man steps out from the crack that is made, fingers tearing at the edge of reality as if it were a blanket. 

 

He stands a mere 5'6, nothing horribly tall, with fair skin that color of cut almonds. He has slicked back blackish-brown hair that is cut short and neatly cut around the neck. His light stubble is the same, though it seems to barely be growing. His eyes are orange as the setting sun, glowing slightly with flecks of black in the center. He wears a white button-up dress shirt, a black waistcoat with silver snaps, and a pair of black dress pants. His nails are painted black though it seems to be more of a permanent thing than a choice thing. 

 

He looks around carefully before taking a step and falling straight on his face. He sits up and looks at his legs like they betrayed him. "C'mon... I know this things been in rigor mortis but this is crazy..." He grumbles and tries to stand up again. As if by his will alone, a black cane made of crystalized cubic formations forms in his hand. He looks surprised and smirks to himself "Well I'm glad to know that isn't an issue.."

Malafasa is in her nest beneath a nearby tree, oblivious to the outside proceedings.

 Stroth stretches, trying to regulate some sort of blood flow to his outer extremities but he is forgetting that he doesn't have blood and it's all for not. 

Quote from Baalzeboop >>

Quote from Jobah619Official >>

Quote from Baalzeboop >>

 *Of course!*

(The Warehouse or the Big Burger Beastro?)

Archer Valentine is rampaging through the woods, and more specifically, through the demons that he summoned in the woods to vent his frustrations on.

(the warehouse)

Riotan is also in the woods, preying on some of the lesser demons to slake his sadistic hunger.

 Most of the thugs are still recovering from the battle. A few of them are trying to dispose of the drugs. The ones who are fully aware are giving Thirteen a wide berth, having heard about the necromancer and being just generally afraid of mages.

Several trees are thrown in his general direction.

"What occurred here to put you all in such disarray?" He asks quietly.

Rio ignores the arboreal projectiles, holding down a manes and shredding its appendages, relishing its succulent agony.

Quote from WendigoOfLore >>

Quote from Jobah619Official >>

Quote from WendigoOfLore >>

*anyway, Stroth's new body*

The world around the trees ripples, like when you throw a stone into a lake, changing the surface of the water with a mere action. Through it, an arm suddenly shoots out, a desperate way almost. It seems to defy logic as it presses a hand against the air as if it were solid, another arm joining it. A man steps out from the crack that is made, fingers tearing at the edge of reality as if it were a blanket. 

 

He stands a mere 5'6, nothing horribly tall, with fair skin that color of cut almonds. He has slicked back blackish-brown hair that is cut short and neatly cut around the neck. His light stubble is the same, though it seems to barely be growing. His eyes are orange as the setting sun, glowing slightly with flecks of black in the center. He wears a white button-up dress shirt, a black waistcoat with silver snaps, and a pair of black dress pants. His nails are painted black though it seems to be more of a permanent thing than a choice thing. 

 

He looks around carefully before taking a step and falling straight on his face. He sits up and looks at his legs like they betrayed him. "C'mon... I know this things been in rigor mortis but this is crazy..." He grumbles and tries to stand up again. As if by his will alone, a black cane made of crystalized cubic formations forms in his hand. He looks surprised and smirks to himself "Well I'm glad to know that isn't an issue.."

Malafasa is in her nest beneath a nearby tree, oblivious to the outside proceedings.

 Stroth stretches, trying to regulate some sort of blood flow to his outer extremities but he is forgetting that he doesn't have blood and it's all for not. 

Mala pokes her head out of her den, glowering at Stroth. "Can't you do that somewhere else?"

Quote from Jobah619Official >>

Quote from WendigoOfLore >>

Quote from Jobah619Official >>

Quote from WendigoOfLore >>

*anyway, Stroth's new body*

The world around the trees ripples, like when you throw a stone into a lake, changing the surface of the water with a mere action. Through it, an arm suddenly shoots out, a desperate way almost. It seems to defy logic as it presses a hand against the air as if it were solid, another arm joining it. A man steps out from the crack that is made, fingers tearing at the edge of reality as if it were a blanket. 

 

He stands a mere 5'6, nothing horribly tall, with fair skin that color of cut almonds. He has slicked back blackish-brown hair that is cut short and neatly cut around the neck. His light stubble is the same, though it seems to barely be growing. His eyes are orange as the setting sun, glowing slightly with flecks of black in the center. He wears a white button-up dress shirt, a black waistcoat with silver snaps, and a pair of black dress pants. His nails are painted black though it seems to be more of a permanent thing than a choice thing. 

 

He looks around carefully before taking a step and falling straight on his face. He sits up and looks at his legs like they betrayed him. "C'mon... I know this things been in rigor mortis but this is crazy..." He grumbles and tries to stand up again. As if by his will alone, a black cane made of crystalized cubic formations forms in his hand. He looks surprised and smirks to himself "Well I'm glad to know that isn't an issue.."

Malafasa is in her nest beneath a nearby tree, oblivious to the outside proceedings.

 Stroth stretches, trying to regulate some sort of blood flow to his outer extremities but he is forgetting that he doesn't have blood and it's all for not. 

Mala pokes her head out of her den, glowering at Stroth. "Can't you do that somewhere else?"

 Stroth's head turns around without his body following, a horrible cracking noise coming from the bones being twisted. "Not my fault you perched here dove." He said.