*I'd love to rp with you, if you wish! Any particular character(s) you'd like?*
*Uhhh I suppose Healenth? (I know I spelled that wrong, I am so sorry) And KK*
*Sure thing! Here ya go!*
There is an odd presence around the teleportation circle outside the Inn. Something powerful is on the other side.
KK is stitching together more Mannequins, incorporating wiring and speakers taken from radio systems into their designs in an attempt to allow them to speak.
Thorne appears beside it, magically appearing in a cloud of mist. The inspector looks around, his eyes narrowing at the sight.
Stroth appears and grins madly "KK~" he says in a sing-songy voice.
The teleportation circle seems fully functional: It itself is nothing out of the ordinary- well, as far as magical teleportation goes. The presence is stronger as he approaches... something distinctly aberrant.
KK pauses her work and looks over at him, grinning ear to ear in an unnervingly literal sense. "Hi, Stroth!" She cheerfully replies.
*Would you like to continue this, Wendi?*
He sighs and pulls out a small book from his back pocket. He kneels down to the ground, tracing his finger over the invisible line of the weave magic. "Just like the outpost.." he mutters.
"I have a favor to ask ya." He said, cracking his knuckles.
So spend your hours on What you think I've done wrong I know I'm in your mind I've been here way too long I want to spend my life With those who've done me right Your heart is frozen over I'm a four-leaf clover
He cuts through more of the sinew and membrane and metal and roots with utmost ease. But after a while.
"Wait, stop. Don't cut any further." Helianth says, with concern in its voice. "The membranes were safe to cut, but the tendrils go into the walls of the vessel. If you were to cut them free, it would release energy from the stars I've consumed- the ship would be destroyed along with us."
He puts down the knife, nodding “Okay, I don’t want to do that.” He steps back, giving them the space to get off of the wall.
The sunflower struggles a bit, but manages to tear a small part of itself free from the wall with a sickening sound of ripping flesh. It looks towards the freed roots, its tendrils flexing with the horrific noise of metal grinding against bone. "Thank you, Tim." It says.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Aldo Syrupsoft is in an alley, surrounded by two hitmen. A shortsword hovers beside him, threatening the brute that tried to sneak up from behind. He is not otherwise armed with any actual weapons, but he's blocking with his chalkboard sign.
Merabelle is painting in her cave, thinking about how much it would cost to open an orphanage, humming a song to herself as she paints the idea.
Grimes is sitting alone in the Inn, drawing in another book he’s going to gift to The Herald, thinking about the idea of getting married soon, if ever.
Rag is working in Samaritan’s restaurant. He hasn’t been working as much recently, and he’s trying to make up for all that missed work now.
Edwin appears in the door holding a bouquet of horseshoe roses and a box of chocolates.
Herald appears behind him, grinning happily. He produces a number of things from his cloak. A heart shaped set of buttons for Grimes coat, a new scope for his rifle, and a box of chocolates.
Samaritan walks in and waves to him "Oi, heard you got a girl. Why not take the time off huh? It's Valentines after all."
Merabelle turns to look at them, gasping as she remembers what day it is. She stands up and runs over, giving them a crushing hug.
He looks up from the book as see them and their numerous gifts, smiling at the sight of them. He holds up the book to them with the crudely drawn images inside, blushing “This is all I could get fer ya.”
He waves back to them as he washes dishes “I could say the same for you Samaritan. You’re going to have a husband real soon, you should be preparing and enjoying yourself. Do you even have a best man yet?”
*Wendi?*
Edwin beams, his ears twitching as his face brightens. He smiles broadly and hugs her back.
he picks it up, his mask seeming to be unable to pick an emotion and set with it. It ends up on a golden heart-like mask, with pictures of debauchery on the front before quickly turning back into a simple silver mask. "Thank you, dear." He kisses his forehead, smiling.
"Either you or Mauric. Rio might be using Stroth or Sparrow or Felix. I have yet to do... anything really." He sighs and rubs his eyes.
*I'd love to rp with you, if you wish! Any particular character(s) you'd like?*
*Uhhh I suppose Healenth? (I know I spelled that wrong, I am so sorry) And KK*
*Sure thing! Here ya go!*
There is an odd presence around the teleportation circle outside the Inn. Something powerful is on the other side.
KK is stitching together more Mannequins, incorporating wiring and speakers taken from radio systems into their designs in an attempt to allow them to speak.
Thorne appears beside it, magically appearing in a cloud of mist. The inspector looks around, his eyes narrowing at the sight.
Stroth appears and grins madly "KK~" he says in a sing-songy voice.
The teleportation circle seems fully functional: It itself is nothing out of the ordinary- well, as far as magical teleportation goes. The presence is stronger as he approaches... something distinctly aberrant.
KK pauses her work and looks over at him, grinning ear to ear in an unnervingly literal sense. "Hi, Stroth!" She cheerfully replies.
*Would you like to continue this, Wendi?*
He sighs and pulls out a small book from his back pocket. He kneels down to the ground, tracing his finger over the invisible line of the weave magic. "Just like the outpost.." he mutters.
"I have a favor to ask ya." He said, cracking his knuckles.
He can faintly feel the otherworldly presence directing its attention towards him. "...Hello there..." It 'speaks', the words entirely silent, yet appearing in his recent memory as if he just heard them spoken allowed.
"Sure, what is it?" She asks, producing her notepad and pen from their respective coat pockets.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Aldo Syrupsoft is in an alley, surrounded by two hitmen. A shortsword hovers beside him, threatening the brute that tried to sneak up from behind. He is not otherwise armed with any actual weapons, but he's blocking with his chalkboard sign.
*I don't know how long I can stay but I'll try.*
A thick cloud of tobacco smoke billows through the alley and curls around the ankles of the hitmen like vipers read to strike as a hulking shadow blocks the light. The shadow belongs to a lanky, shaggy haired bare-chested giant who is almost as tall as the roofs on either side of the alley. He has a fat cigar stuck in his fist like another finger and a small leather pouch hangs around his neck by a thin string. "Hullo, you fellas ain't havin' no trouble back here, are you?" He says in his deep, lazy-paced voice.
Aldo Syrupsoft is in an alley, surrounded by two hitmen. A shortsword hovers beside him, threatening the brute that tried to sneak up from behind. He is not otherwise armed with any actual weapons, but he's blocking with his chalkboard sign.
*I don't know how long I can stay but I'll try.*
A thick cloud of tobacco smoke billows through the alley and curls around the ankles of the hitmen like vipers read to strike as a hulking shadow blocks the light. The shadow belongs to a lanky, shaggy haired bare-chested giant who is almost as tall as the roofs on either side of the alley. He has a fat cigar stuck in his fist like another finger and a small leather pouch hangs around his neck by a thin string. "Hullo, you fellas ain't havin' no trouble back here, are you?" He says in his deep, lazy-paced voice.
Neither hitman turns, but one of them talks. "Back off, man! This guy's dangerous! He's a bomber from the Xanathar Guild!" Aldo blocks another scimitar jab, making a horrible noise against his chalkboard. The strugel soda jerk looks very stressed. "I don't work for those guys anymore!"
Merabelle is painting in her cave, thinking about how much it would cost to open an orphanage, humming a song to herself as she paints the idea.
Grimes is sitting alone in the Inn, drawing in another book he’s going to gift to The Herald, thinking about the idea of getting married soon, if ever.
Rag is working in Samaritan’s restaurant. He hasn’t been working as much recently, and he’s trying to make up for all that missed work now.
Edwin appears in the door holding a bouquet of horseshoe roses and a box of chocolates.
Herald appears behind him, grinning happily. He produces a number of things from his cloak. A heart shaped set of buttons for Grimes coat, a new scope for his rifle, and a box of chocolates.
Samaritan walks in and waves to him "Oi, heard you got a girl. Why not take the time off huh? It's Valentines after all."
Merabelle turns to look at them, gasping as she remembers what day it is. She stands up and runs over, giving them a crushing hug.
He looks up from the book as see them and their numerous gifts, smiling at the sight of them. He holds up the book to them with the crudely drawn images inside, blushing “This is all I could get fer ya.”
He waves back to them as he washes dishes “I could say the same for you Samaritan. You’re going to have a husband real soon, you should be preparing and enjoying yourself. Do you even have a best man yet?”
*Wendi?*
Edwin beams, his ears twitching as his face brightens. He smiles broadly and hugs her back.
he picks it up, his mask seeming to be unable to pick an emotion and set with it. It ends up on a golden heart-like mask, with pictures of debauchery on the front before quickly turning back into a simple silver mask. "Thank you, dear." He kisses his forehead, smiling.
"Either you or Mauric. Rio might be using Stroth or Sparrow or Felix. I have yet to do... anything really." He sighs and rubs his eyes.
She eventually does put them down after giving them a long and passionate kiss “How did ya know I love chocolates and flowers?”
He smiles, pulling out the chair next to him for them to sit in, shifting in his seat as he looks at them, blushing softly “I… love ya a love and I wanted ya ta have that. Just… what I want our future ta be.” He says, smiling at them softly.
He pats his shoulder, smiling brightly at them “Everything will work out, and I would be honored to be your best man if you will have me be it.” He says with a chuckle.
He cuts through more of the sinew and membrane and metal and roots with utmost ease. But after a while.
"Wait, stop. Don't cut any further." Helianth says, with concern in its voice. "The membranes were safe to cut, but the tendrils go into the walls of the vessel. If you were to cut them free, it would release energy from the stars I've consumed- the ship would be destroyed along with us."
He puts down the knife, nodding “Okay, I don’t want to do that.” He steps back, giving them the space to get off of the wall.
The sunflower struggles a bit, but manages to tear a small part of itself free from the wall with a sickening sound of ripping flesh. It looks towards the freed roots, its tendrils flexing with the horrific noise of metal grinding against bone. "Thank you, Tim." It says.
He looks up at them with a sigh bit of worry before nodding “Do you want me to help heal you back up too? I’ve been working on my spells recently, I might be able to heal you a little bit.”
Aldo Syrupsoft is in an alley, surrounded by two hitmen. A shortsword hovers beside him, threatening the brute that tried to sneak up from behind. He is not otherwise armed with any actual weapons, but he's blocking with his chalkboard sign.
*I don't know how long I can stay but I'll try.*
A thick cloud of tobacco smoke billows through the alley and curls around the ankles of the hitmen like vipers read to strike as a hulking shadow blocks the light. The shadow belongs to a lanky, shaggy haired bare-chested giant who is almost as tall as the roofs on either side of the alley. He has a fat cigar stuck in his fist like another finger and a small leather pouch hangs around his neck by a thin string. "Hullo, you fellas ain't havin' no trouble back here, are you?" He says in his deep, lazy-paced voice.
Neither hitman turns, but one of them talks. "Back off, man! This guy's dangerous! He's a bomber from the Xanathar Guild!" Aldo blocks another scimitar jab, making a horrible noise against his chalkboard. The strugel soda jerk looks very stressed. "I don't work for those guys anymore!"
"Alright then fellas, I'll take care of him. Save you the trouble. You can run along now." His huge hand envelops one of the men around his shoulders and pulls him out of the alley. "I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him, you don't gotta worry bout nuthin'."
Neither hitman turns, but one of them talks. "Back off, man! This guy's dangerous! He's a bomber from the Xanathar Guild!" Aldo blocks another scimitar jab, making a horrible noise against his chalkboard. The strugel soda jerk looks very stressed. "I don't work for those guys anymore!"
"Alright then fellas, I'll take care of him. Save you the trouble. You can run along now." His huge hand envelops one of the men around his shoulders and pulls him out of the alley. "I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him, you don't gotta worry bout nuthin'."
The man he grabbed realizes that this is not something he can fight and books it. The other hitman, boxed in behind the little ferretfolk, seems to come to a similar conclusion, looking around frantically. "Hey now, we're getting paid for this hit! And if he doesn't die, all of us are done for, you included!"
Aldo calls his sword back to his hand. It would be a shortsword for a medium creature, but it looks almost like a longsword for him. He doesn't seem to know who to hold his stance against: the giant or the swordsman.
Neither hitman turns, but one of them talks. "Back off, man! This guy's dangerous! He's a bomber from the Xanathar Guild!" Aldo blocks another scimitar jab, making a horrible noise against his chalkboard. The strugel soda jerk looks very stressed. "I don't work for those guys anymore!"
"Alright then fellas, I'll take care of him. Save you the trouble. You can run along now." His huge hand envelops one of the men around his shoulders and pulls him out of the alley. "I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him, you don't gotta worry bout nuthin'."
The man he grabbed realizes that this is not something he can fight and books it. The other hitman, boxed in behind the little ferretfolk, seems to come to a similar conclusion, looking around frantically. "Hey now, we're getting paid for this hit! And if he doesn't die, all of us are done for, you included!"
Aldo calls his sword back to his hand. It would be a shortsword for a medium creature, but it looks almost like a longsword for him. He doesn't seem to know who to hold his stance against: the giant or the swordsman.
"I very much doubt I'm included." He says, his words given form through the tobacco smoke, "But if you are.... you should probably start running because you ain't gonna finish this job." He takes a long, slow draw from his cigar again and as he does so Aldo catches a glimpse of what might have been a wink flash from underneath his heavy brow.
The man he grabbed realizes that this is not something he can fight and books it. The other hitman, boxed in behind the little ferretfolk, seems to come to a similar conclusion, looking around frantically. "Hey now, we're getting paid for this hit! And if he doesn't die, all of us are done for, you included!"
Aldo calls his sword back to his hand. It would be a shortsword for a medium creature, but it looks almost like a longsword for him. He doesn't seem to know who to hold his stance against: the giant or the swordsman.
"I very much doubt I'm included." He says, his words given form through the tobacco smoke, "But if you are.... you should probably start running because you ain't gonna finish this job." He takes a long, slow draw from his cigar again and as he does so Aldo catches a glimpse of what might have been a wink flash from underneath his heavy brow.
Both cons process this. Aldo steps aside, straightening his glasses as the hitman runs past him and out of the alley, muttering something about "...don't get paid enough to deal with..."
Aldo looks up at the giant, fidgeting. "So, uh, what's the beef? Wh-what are you gonna do now?" He pulls a bottle of soda out of the box on his back.
The man he grabbed realizes that this is not something he can fight and books it. The other hitman, boxed in behind the little ferretfolk, seems to come to a similar conclusion, looking around frantically. "Hey now, we're getting paid for this hit! And if he doesn't die, all of us are done for, you included!"
Aldo calls his sword back to his hand. It would be a shortsword for a medium creature, but it looks almost like a longsword for him. He doesn't seem to know who to hold his stance against: the giant or the swordsman.
"I very much doubt I'm included." He says, his words given form through the tobacco smoke, "But if you are.... you should probably start running because you ain't gonna finish this job." He takes a long, slow draw from his cigar again and as he does so Aldo catches a glimpse of what might have been a wink flash from underneath his heavy brow.
Both cons process this. Aldo steps aside, straightening his glasses as the hitman runs past him and out of the alley, muttering something about "...don't get paid enough to deal with..."
Aldo looks up at the giant, fidgeting. "So, uh, what's the beef? Wh-what are you gonna do now?" He pulls a bottle of soda out of the box on his back.
"Well, first you're gonna express your gratitude for my service by givin' me one of those there soda pops. Rescuing ferrets makes my throat dry." He says with a wide smile.
A small human man is relaxing outside the inn. He keeps checking his pocketwatch
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
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He sighs and pulls out a small book from his back pocket. He kneels down to the ground, tracing his finger over the invisible line of the weave magic. "Just like the outpost.." he mutters.
"I have a favor to ask ya." He said, cracking his knuckles.
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
(hi wendo)
So spend your hours on
What you think I've done wrong
I know I'm in your mind
I've been here way too long
I want to spend my life
With those who've done me right
Your heart is frozen over
I'm a four-leaf clover
The sunflower struggles a bit, but manages to tear a small part of itself free from the wall with a sickening sound of ripping flesh. It looks towards the freed roots, its tendrils flexing with the horrific noise of metal grinding against bone. "Thank you, Tim." It says.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Aldo Syrupsoft is in an alley, surrounded by two hitmen. A shortsword hovers beside him, threatening the brute that tried to sneak up from behind. He is not otherwise armed with any actual weapons, but he's blocking with his chalkboard sign.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*WOOOOOAH*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He can faintly feel the otherworldly presence directing its attention towards him. "...Hello there..." It 'speaks', the words entirely silent, yet appearing in his recent memory as if he just heard them spoken allowed.
"Sure, what is it?" She asks, producing her notepad and pen from their respective coat pockets.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*I don't know how long I can stay but I'll try.*
A thick cloud of tobacco smoke billows through the alley and curls around the ankles of the hitmen like vipers read to strike as a hulking shadow blocks the light. The shadow belongs to a lanky, shaggy haired bare-chested giant who is almost as tall as the roofs on either side of the alley. He has a fat cigar stuck in his fist like another finger and a small leather pouch hangs around his neck by a thin string. "Hullo, you fellas ain't havin' no trouble back here, are you?" He says in his deep, lazy-paced voice.
*Blp*
*Okie. I shall throw these guys at you*
Wind is wandering around in the forest
R-@B!T (The new robot) is clawing their way out of the ground
Chef Grumble is drinking an unreasonable amount of beer in the Inn
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Salem has dubbed me Fellow Pancake of The Fox.
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
Neither hitman turns, but one of them talks. "Back off, man! This guy's dangerous! He's a bomber from the Xanathar Guild!" Aldo blocks another scimitar jab, making a horrible noise against his chalkboard. The strugel soda jerk looks very stressed. "I don't work for those guys anymore!"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
She eventually does put them down after giving them a long and passionate kiss “How did ya know I love chocolates and flowers?”
He smiles, pulling out the chair next to him for them to sit in, shifting in his seat as he looks at them, blushing softly “I… love ya a love and I wanted ya ta have that. Just… what I want our future ta be.” He says, smiling at them softly.
He pats his shoulder, smiling brightly at them “Everything will work out, and I would be honored to be your best man if you will have me be it.” He says with a chuckle.
He looks up at them with a sigh bit of worry before nodding “Do you want me to help heal you back up too? I’ve been working on my spells recently, I might be able to heal you a little bit.”
"Alright then fellas, I'll take care of him. Save you the trouble. You can run along now." His huge hand envelops one of the men around his shoulders and pulls him out of the alley. "I'll make sure he gets what's coming to him, you don't gotta worry bout nuthin'."
The man he grabbed realizes that this is not something he can fight and books it. The other hitman, boxed in behind the little ferretfolk, seems to come to a similar conclusion, looking around frantically. "Hey now, we're getting paid for this hit! And if he doesn't die, all of us are done for, you included!"
Aldo calls his sword back to his hand. It would be a shortsword for a medium creature, but it looks almost like a longsword for him. He doesn't seem to know who to hold his stance against: the giant or the swordsman.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
A woman in a plague doctor’s outfit sits down next to them, her voice soft, silky “You know that’s bad for you.”
"I very much doubt I'm included." He says, his words given form through the tobacco smoke, "But if you are.... you should probably start running because you ain't gonna finish this job." He takes a long, slow draw from his cigar again and as he does so Aldo catches a glimpse of what might have been a wink flash from underneath his heavy brow.
The lizardfolk tilts his head "Yeah. We are in an Inn though..."
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Salem has dubbed me Fellow Pancake of The Fox.
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
Both cons process this. Aldo steps aside, straightening his glasses as the hitman runs past him and out of the alley, muttering something about "...don't get paid enough to deal with..."
Aldo looks up at the giant, fidgeting. "So, uh, what's the beef? Wh-what are you gonna do now?" He pulls a bottle of soda out of the box on his back.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
“Couldn’t you simply have a water? Do you mind drinking this?” She holds up a vial to them, with a glowing liquid inside.
"Well, first you're gonna express your gratitude for my service by givin' me one of those there soda pops. Rescuing ferrets makes my throat dry." He says with a wide smile.
A small human man is relaxing outside the inn. He keeps checking his pocketwatch
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, undead cutie pie, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)