"A-ah. That makes sense. I've been, uh, going to therapy. Trying to let go of all that... resentment. My body isn't holding together very well anymore..."
"That's good- the therapy, I mean." She walks a bit closer and sits down beside the bench, her mannequin-centipede lower half coiling like a serpent's tail. "If you want, you can take a share of the Dark Energy the Fair's been generating. It might help with the lack of corporeality."
"I don't think it would help. I'm supposed to be dead, but my hatred let me collect Dark Energy and hold onto it. Can't properly store it anymore."
"I see... maybe there's another source you can draw on? Another kind of magic?" She muses, trying to help despite not really knowing what to do herself.
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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 think it would help. I'm supposed to be dead, but my hatred let me collect Dark Energy and hold onto it. Can't properly store it anymore."
"I see... maybe there's another source you can draw on? Another kind of magic?" She muses, trying to help despite not really knowing what to do herself.
"No thank you. I'm... feeling peaceful. Maybe I'll have an afterlife after this instead of a void."
Atticus is eating a rotisserie chicken in the woods, sitting on the skeletons of a freshly flayed thieves guild. He savors every bite while the burning circle around him cooks the boneless remains of the criminals.
Atticus is eating a rotisserie chicken in the woods, sitting on the skeletons of a freshly flayed thieves guild. He savors every bite while the burning circle around him cooks the boneless remains of the criminals.
From the invisible cloud of sin around them coalesces a man with shaggy hair and a baggy blue tee-shirt. He cracks his neck and moves his hair out of his face. "Oh, I was too late. Oh well."
"You're not too late, partner. You're a bit early, actually. They haven't cooked yet." He carefully nibbles the left wing.
"You're not too late, partner. You're a bit early, actually. They haven't cooked yet." He carefully nibbles the left wing.
"No, I'm too late, though you don't know why." he sits next to Atticus. "You might. I came here to sniff out the camp, see what kinds of Nightmares lurk here."
"Ah. Well, that's a shame. They've already run off." He picks up a spear and checks one of the bodies with it. "They'll be rare soon."
He nods. "The nobler species. But how do you feed? Do you just eat them?"
"I absorb their energy after snuffing them. Use an Arte or artifact to kill them, and usually they turn into a cloudof energy. Didn't expect to find somebody who can see them in a place like this... See any that looked like they'd hang around murderers?"
"They're a bit skittish around me, unfortunately. They don't stick around when I get to work." He begins to sharpen his chef's knife. It has a hole in the handle and is surprisingly thin.
Carrion is outside, standing in a graveyard. He is quietly mourning the deaths of the many who have been buried here.
He is dressed in black robes that barely cover his bloated and fat-covered form. His face is covered by a mask made of carved wood resembling a humans face with a calm expression.
Carrion is outside, standing in a graveyard. He is quietly mourning the deaths of the many who have been buried here.
He is dressed in black robes that barely cover his bloated and fat-covered form. His face is covered by a mask made of carved wood resembling a humans face with a calm expression.
*Heya Wendi, we can finally rp.*
They hear the sound of someone nearby playing a string instrument while sitting in a withered tree, a mournful tune that matches the environment they are feeling at the moment.
Carrion is outside, standing in a graveyard. He is quietly mourning the deaths of the many who have been buried here.
He is dressed in black robes that barely cover his bloated and fat-covered form. His face is covered by a mask made of carved wood resembling a humans face with a calm expression.
*Heya Wendi, we can finally rp.*
They hear the sound of someone nearby playing a string instrument while sitting in a withered tree, a mournful tune that matches the environment they are feeling at the moment.
They seem to look around for the sound for a moment before walking over to them.
Carrion is outside, standing in a graveyard. He is quietly mourning the deaths of the many who have been buried here.
He is dressed in black robes that barely cover his bloated and fat-covered form. His face is covered by a mask made of carved wood resembling a humans face with a calm expression.
*Heya Wendi, we can finally rp.*
They hear the sound of someone nearby playing a string instrument while sitting in a withered tree, a mournful tune that matches the environment they are feeling at the moment.
They seem to look around for the sound for a moment before walking over to them.
They see Uzui playing the Roan, smiling down at them for a moment, “Hello there, I’m sorry we meet under such… circumstances.” He says speaking genuinely.
"I see... maybe there's another source you can draw on? Another kind of magic?" She muses, trying to help despite not really knowing what to do herself.
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)
"No thank you. I'm... feeling peaceful. Maybe I'll have an afterlife after this instead of a void."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Atticus is eating a rotisserie chicken in the woods, sitting on the skeletons of a freshly flayed thieves guild. He savors every bite while the burning circle around him cooks the boneless remains of the criminals.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"You're not too late, partner. You're a bit early, actually. They haven't cooked yet." He carefully nibbles the left wing.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Ah. Well, that's a shame. They've already run off." He picks up a spear and checks one of the bodies with it. "They'll be rare soon."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He nods. "The nobler species. But how do you feed? Do you just eat them?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"They're a bit skittish around me, unfortunately. They don't stick around when I get to work." He begins to sharpen his chef's knife. It has a hole in the handle and is surprisingly thin.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Good afternoon my multitude of friends, it seems I am once again alive, and I don’t know how to feel about it.*
*Do you enjoy my presence?*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*I find it one of the best parts of my day, why?*
*I'm alive somehow.*
Carrion is outside, standing in a graveyard. He is quietly mourning the deaths of the many who have been buried here.
He is dressed in black robes that barely cover his bloated and fat-covered form. His face is covered by a mask made of carved wood resembling a humans face with a calm expression.
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
*Heya Wendi, we can finally rp.*
They hear the sound of someone nearby playing a string instrument while sitting in a withered tree, a mournful tune that matches the environment they are feeling at the moment.
They seem to look around for the sound for a moment before walking over to them.
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
They see Uzui playing the Roan, smiling down at them for a moment, “Hello there, I’m sorry we meet under such… circumstances.” He says speaking genuinely.
*Because you will have none of it if you die. Not for a long time.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels