Lord's Rest Inn

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*What do yall think of this? Any criticisms? Might not use it.*

An unexpectedly chilling breeze fills the air on an especially shadowy day, the sun barely able to peek through the clouds as it begins to rain. Not only is it raining, the downpour is pretty heavy, heavier than anything would be expected.

Outside of the Inn, in the garden Damian used to use, a stack of crates sits, waiting for Damian to move them to his new home, but he can't. The cold and the rain doesn't bother him as he lies there, eyes closed, the glow in his chest and the brightness of his eyes faded. He's died, but he dies all of the time, it can't be too bad... right? Minutes have already passed, first one, then five, then ten, he doesn't get back up. He always gets back up, but today, nothing, nothing but the cold that chills Damian's once warm heart.

Damian's Alterious is dead, by what? Who knows? It can only be assumed to be his soul finally cracking fully under the pressure and giving way to death, but maybe it isn't. Only the gods know, and they couldn't care less about Damian. He was a man of many things, he lived life without regrets, shameless and full of joy, but in his last moments, he had one regret, and it is that he couldn't say goodbye.

*It's good. Sad, but good.*

 *I probably won't use it, it's just been roughly a year since I declared Damian was going to die in a year. Just feeling it, y'know?*

*Oh wow I forgot about that*

Quote from TrueJester3 >>

*Morning everyone. Cowboys if anyone wants them. I've just been feeling like killing characters recently, you know?*

 Sparrow is sitting on the back porch of his home. He has recently finished a workout, and is now drinking from his flask and watching some birds. He seems to have a blank look in his eyes, empty of interest. He's not wearing his duster or his hat, and Rosemary sits inside still in the holster of his belt. He's just having a moment.

 Merabelle is sitting in her cave, gathering the power she needs to kill the Seer, as well as the Creature of the woods if it decides to come out of hiding. She's cleaning her armor that she hasn't used in a very long time, having overgrown with plant life sitting in the dampness of the cave.

 Grimes is sitting in the forest, thinking about his entire life, reflecting back on everything, and getting just the tiniest bit depressed by it all. His life hasn't been that good until now, which he does see as a plus, but it's just a bit sad to think about now that his life is good. He decides to begin cleaning his rifle to get his mind off it.

 *-loud creak- Soooo, about X's job?*

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*morning guys and gals and others*

Phoenix is ticked off with Jack for not showing up to their date, and is taking out that anger at the shooting range.

Leo and Festus are in their workshop hiding out from the rain and just relaxing.

Yod is also there, training with his longbow and trying to work on increasing his reaction time if he’s only using one eye.

 *did you wanna interact with Leo as well?*

Phoenix is nailing each target dead on with scary accuracy.

*Yeah. I posted too early and tried to edit it in but you were too fast for me*

After a couple minutes, he turns to Phoenix. “You’re good. I guess firearms are easier to aim since they almost always shoot consistently.”

 *mk, just choose whoever. doesnt matter to me*

"Not always." he says, the mag from the rifle clattering to the floor as he reloads. There are about 20 mags on the ground already

*no wait i did it again, I’m sorry. Just look at the previous post. My brain keeps saying there are only two lines that require equal response so I post before I can put the Loriche prompt in.*

“Huh. I just prefer bows because they’re unassuming and rely on personal strength instead of mechanical capabilities.”

Loriche is still out searching for the Creature.

 *its ok. Nothing showing up on my side*

"Well, both require accuracy."

*also, I'm retiring the creature*

*got it, my bad*

“Yeah but bows are such a formal, elegant weapon. You look at a gun and think of the violence of modernity. You look at a bow and think of hunters, defenders, kings, and heroes.”

Loriche is heading over to check on Leo. Her armor won’t rust, but she’s trying to make sure none of Leo’s stuff will get ruined.

 "All i see are weapons. The slaughters of men, women, and children alike. All weapons to kill and destroy."

Leo is unhappily covering his more valuable projects with tarps

“…well that’s a sad way to view it.” He shrugs.

She quickly goes to help him.

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*What do yall think of this? Any criticisms? Might not use it.*

An unexpectedly chilling breeze fills the air on an especially shadowy day, the sun barely able to peek through the clouds as it begins to rain. Not only is it raining, the downpour is pretty heavy, heavier than anything would be expected.

Outside of the Inn, in the garden Damian used to use, a stack of crates sits, waiting for Damian to move them to his new home, but he can't. The cold and the rain doesn't bother him as he lies there, eyes closed, the glow in his chest and the brightness of his eyes faded. He's died, but he dies all of the time, it can't be too bad... right? Minutes have already passed, first one, then five, then ten, he doesn't get back up. He always gets back up, but today, nothing, nothing but the cold that chills Damian's once warm heart.

Damian's Alterious is dead, by what? Who knows? It can only be assumed to be his soul finally cracking fully under the pressure and giving way to death, but maybe it isn't. Only the gods know, and they couldn't care less about Damian. He was a man of many things, he lived life without regrets, shameless and full of joy, but in his last moments, he had one regret, and it is that he couldn't say goodbye.

*It's good. Sad, but good.*

 *I probably won't use it, it's just been roughly a year since I declared Damian was going to die in a year. Just feeling it, y'know?*

*Oh wow I forgot about that*

 *So did I, until I remembered yesterday, he probably won't die, and if he does, Salem will have to be here for maximum emotional effect.*

A man, about in his early twenties, is sitting in a pile of soft pillows, curled up in the fluffiness of it all. He appears to be playing a video game on some sort of hand-held console that looks like an old GameBoy. He is dressed in a thick, oversized,  hoodie made of black soft fabric with a pair of red shorts underneath. He has ginger hair, cut short and neatly, and fair skin that is peppered with freckles. His irises are pitch black backed by a sclera of white, empty almost. On his left wrist, he has multiple bracelets made of chunky beads of red, black, and white. He seems focused on his game for the most part, his face holding not emotions as he does. 

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 "All i see are weapons. The slaughters of men, women, and children alike. All weapons to kill and destroy."

Leo is unhappily covering his more valuable projects with tarps

“…well that’s a sad way to view it.” He shrugs.

She quickly goes to help him.

 "Its childish not think that way."

"Thanks."