*Entertainment, you say? That I can certainly provide. Would you like to interact with any of my characters in particular?*
*I shall take whatever you all give me with open arms.*
*Wonderful! Here ya go!*
The Architect is performing tests on small amounts of the Blight Flower serum that Stroth gave her, seeing how she can use it to make something even more horrifying. The nightmare child is coiled around one of her arms, watching their mother work curiously and making inquisitive chirping sounds.
Behind her, she feels a presence. Not one of this world, but from beyond it. A figure, dressed in drapes of black that look to be cut from the void itself watches her. They have a head, if you could call it that, or perhaps it's a mask. Either way, it wears that skull of a deer, the bones rotted and browned.
Her mask moves across the cloud of shadowy miasma that is her 'head', stopping to look right at the presence, the rest of her body not turning to face it. "Who are you?" The mad artist asks, not seeming intimidated in the least.
"No one important. Simply a watcher, admiring your skill." They said, tilting their head "You have a strange talent I do say. Not a bad one, but it is barely the first step to what you could be dear."
The Stugel stops to watch as the fire is consumed by the spirit. He says nothing, watching in complete silence, knowing the man within is dead before walking over to the woman, nodding respectfully.
She snorts "Not a love for life are ye you brutish thing? May the dead have claim upon yer soul."
He raises an eyebrow, turning back to the remains of the building, he speaks soft, deliberate words, heavy enough to be understood “Brutish…? I suppose that isn’t wrong, but all I do, I do for those I care about.”
"Caring for someone is by taking others lives you ninny!?" She bellows, her now much larger fire spirit stalking over.
He nods politely “Yes ma’am, it’s all just business at the end of the day. There’s and mine. I won’t let my family be hurt, not again.”
*Entertainment, you say? That I can certainly provide. Would you like to interact with any of my characters in particular?*
*I shall take whatever you all give me with open arms.*
*Wonderful! Here ya go!*
The Architect is performing tests on small amounts of the Blight Flower serum that Stroth gave her, seeing how she can use it to make something even more horrifying. The nightmare child is coiled around one of her arms, watching their mother work curiously and making inquisitive chirping sounds.
Behind her, she feels a presence. Not one of this world, but from beyond it. A figure, dressed in drapes of black that look to be cut from the void itself watches her. They have a head, if you could call it that, or perhaps it's a mask. Either way, it wears that skull of a deer, the bones rotted and browned.
Her mask moves across the cloud of shadowy miasma that is her 'head', stopping to look right at the presence, the rest of her body not turning to face it. "Who are you?" The mad artist asks, not seeming intimidated in the least.
"No one important. Simply a watcher, admiring your skill." They said, tilting their head "You have a strange talent I do say. Not a bad one, but it is barely the first step to what you could be dear."
"Thank you- the strange and uncanny is a specialty of mine." The horror pauses her work momentarily, setting down the vial of blight flower extract, seeming intrigued by their last sentence. "...Becoming a Nightmare Lord isn't even the first step? Seems I've a ways to go, then. Where do I go from here?"
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)
The Stugel stops to watch as the fire is consumed by the spirit. He says nothing, watching in complete silence, knowing the man within is dead before walking over to the woman, nodding respectfully.
She snorts "Not a love for life are ye you brutish thing? May the dead have claim upon yer soul."
He raises an eyebrow, turning back to the remains of the building, he speaks soft, deliberate words, heavy enough to be understood “Brutish…? I suppose that isn’t wrong, but all I do, I do for those I care about.”
"Caring for someone is by taking others lives you ninny!?" She bellows, her now much larger fire spirit stalking over.
He nods politely “Yes ma’am, it’s all just business at the end of the day. There’s and mine. I won’t let my family be hurt, not again.”
"I don't care. If you are a killer, you deserve to die like them." She snarls, his eyes blazing.
*Entertainment, you say? That I can certainly provide. Would you like to interact with any of my characters in particular?*
*I shall take whatever you all give me with open arms.*
*Wonderful! Here ya go!*
The Architect is performing tests on small amounts of the Blight Flower serum that Stroth gave her, seeing how she can use it to make something even more horrifying. The nightmare child is coiled around one of her arms, watching their mother work curiously and making inquisitive chirping sounds.
Behind her, she feels a presence. Not one of this world, but from beyond it. A figure, dressed in drapes of black that look to be cut from the void itself watches her. They have a head, if you could call it that, or perhaps it's a mask. Either way, it wears that skull of a deer, the bones rotted and browned.
Her mask moves across the cloud of shadowy miasma that is her 'head', stopping to look right at the presence, the rest of her body not turning to face it. "Who are you?" The mad artist asks, not seeming intimidated in the least.
"No one important. Simply a watcher, admiring your skill." They said, tilting their head "You have a strange talent I do say. Not a bad one, but it is barely the first step to what you could be dear."
"Thank you- the strange and uncanny is a specialty of mine." The horror pauses her work momentarily, setting down the vial of blight flower extract, seeming intrigued by their last sentence. "...Becoming a Nightmare Lord isn't even the first step? Seems I've a ways to go, then. Where do I go from here?"
"Well, for one, spreading your creations to the universe and beyond. Improving your skill the transcend the boundaries of reality so your essence is woven in to the very fabric of space and time. The like and such." It waves a boney, horribly aged hand that somehow appears from the fabric of their cloak.
The Stugel stops to watch as the fire is consumed by the spirit. He says nothing, watching in complete silence, knowing the man within is dead before walking over to the woman, nodding respectfully.
She snorts "Not a love for life are ye you brutish thing? May the dead have claim upon yer soul."
He raises an eyebrow, turning back to the remains of the building, he speaks soft, deliberate words, heavy enough to be understood “Brutish…? I suppose that isn’t wrong, but all I do, I do for those I care about.”
"Caring for someone is by taking others lives you ninny!?" She bellows, her now much larger fire spirit stalking over.
He nods politely “Yes ma’am, it’s all just business at the end of the day. There’s and mine. I won’t let my family be hurt, not again.”
"I don't care. If you are a killer, you deserve to die like them." She snarls, his eyes blazing.
He nods again, clasping his hands together, “Then kill me, ma’am. If you think you’re better, show me, or just judge in silence.”
The Architect is performing tests on small amounts of the Blight Flower serum that Stroth gave her, seeing how she can use it to make something even more horrifying. The nightmare child is coiled around one of her arms, watching their mother work curiously and making inquisitive chirping sounds.
Behind her, she feels a presence. Not one of this world, but from beyond it. A figure, dressed in drapes of black that look to be cut from the void itself watches her. They have a head, if you could call it that, or perhaps it's a mask. Either way, it wears that skull of a deer, the bones rotted and browned.
Her mask moves across the cloud of shadowy miasma that is her 'head', stopping to look right at the presence, the rest of her body not turning to face it. "Who are you?" The mad artist asks, not seeming intimidated in the least.
"No one important. Simply a watcher, admiring your skill." They said, tilting their head "You have a strange talent I do say. Not a bad one, but it is barely the first step to what you could be dear."
"Thank you- the strange and uncanny is a specialty of mine." The horror pauses her work momentarily, setting down the vial of blight flower extract, seeming intrigued by their last sentence. "...Becoming a Nightmare Lord isn't even the first step? Seems I've a ways to go, then. Where do I go from here?"
"Well, for one, spreading your creations to the universe and beyond. Improving your skill the transcend the boundaries of reality so your essence is woven in to the very fabric of space and time. The like and such." It waves a boney, horribly aged hand that somehow appears from the fabric of their cloak.
She fully turns to face them, her mask remaining looking right at him the whole time. The mask shifts to depict a smiling expression- like a six-eyed version of the classic Comedy mask. "That does sound absolutely delightful. Tell me, how do I go about spreading my creations across the entire universe?"
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)
The Squire has added a bandolier of sewn-on patches to his uniform, each coming from a restaurant where he completed a challenge. Many of them are quite old. He walks with a confused mix of pride and shame, as though he's not sure how he feels.
Behind them, they feel a presence, a person who should not be there but is. A lurking figure stands amongst the folks of the tavern, watching them. They wear swatches of fabric that look to be cut from the void itself, wrapped around them like a cloak. They wear, or perhaps it is their head, a deer skull that is rotted away to just the bone and browned from ages past.
He jumps a bit. Well, more than a bit given that he's a Harengon, but he doesn't quite hit the ceiling. He waves a little bit and, after a moment's deliberation, approaches. "Hi! What's your name?"
The Stugel stops to watch as the fire is consumed by the spirit. He says nothing, watching in complete silence, knowing the man within is dead before walking over to the woman, nodding respectfully.
She snorts "Not a love for life are ye you brutish thing? May the dead have claim upon yer soul."
He raises an eyebrow, turning back to the remains of the building, he speaks soft, deliberate words, heavy enough to be understood “Brutish…? I suppose that isn’t wrong, but all I do, I do for those I care about.”
"Caring for someone is by taking others lives you ninny!?" She bellows, her now much larger fire spirit stalking over.
He nods politely “Yes ma’am, it’s all just business at the end of the day. There’s and mine. I won’t let my family be hurt, not again.”
"I don't care. If you are a killer, you deserve to die like them." She snarls, his eyes blazing.
He nods again, clasping his hands together, “Then kill me, ma’am. If you think you’re better, show me, or just judge in silence.”
(Make a Dex save (DC: 22) then make a Con save (DC: 22))
The Architect is performing tests on small amounts of the Blight Flower serum that Stroth gave her, seeing how she can use it to make something even more horrifying. The nightmare child is coiled around one of her arms, watching their mother work curiously and making inquisitive chirping sounds.
Behind her, she feels a presence. Not one of this world, but from beyond it. A figure, dressed in drapes of black that look to be cut from the void itself watches her. They have a head, if you could call it that, or perhaps it's a mask. Either way, it wears that skull of a deer, the bones rotted and browned.
Her mask moves across the cloud of shadowy miasma that is her 'head', stopping to look right at the presence, the rest of her body not turning to face it. "Who are you?" The mad artist asks, not seeming intimidated in the least.
"No one important. Simply a watcher, admiring your skill." They said, tilting their head "You have a strange talent I do say. Not a bad one, but it is barely the first step to what you could be dear."
"Thank you- the strange and uncanny is a specialty of mine." The horror pauses her work momentarily, setting down the vial of blight flower extract, seeming intrigued by their last sentence. "...Becoming a Nightmare Lord isn't even the first step? Seems I've a ways to go, then. Where do I go from here?"
"Well, for one, spreading your creations to the universe and beyond. Improving your skill the transcend the boundaries of reality so your essence is woven in to the very fabric of space and time. The like and such." It waves a boney, horribly aged hand that somehow appears from the fabric of their cloak.
She fully turns to face them, her mask remaining looking right at him the whole time. The mask shifts to depict a smiling expression- like a six-eyed version of the classic Comedy mask. "That does sound absolutely delightful. Tell me, how do I go about spreading my creations across the entire universe?"
"Folks always believe that you need technology or devices or the sort to transcend the boundaries of this universe or the next, bunch of rubbish is what that is. Tell me, do you believe in me?" It asks, cokcing it head to the side.
The Squire has added a bandolier of sewn-on patches to his uniform, each coming from a restaurant where he completed a challenge. Many of them are quite old. He walks with a confused mix of pride and shame, as though he's not sure how he feels.
Behind them, they feel a presence, a person who should not be there but is. A lurking figure stands amongst the folks of the tavern, watching them. They wear swatches of fabric that look to be cut from the void itself, wrapped around them like a cloak. They wear, or perhaps it is their head, a deer skull that is rotted away to just the bone and browned from ages past.
He jumps a bit. Well, more than a bit given that he's a Harengon, but he doesn't quite hit the ceiling. He waves a little bit and, after a moment's deliberation, approaches. "Hi! What's your name?"
They fix their cloak and cock their head to the side "I am Nothing, both literally and physically." They said, their tone soft and gentle.
The Stugel stops to watch as the fire is consumed by the spirit. He says nothing, watching in complete silence, knowing the man within is dead before walking over to the woman, nodding respectfully.
She snorts "Not a love for life are ye you brutish thing? May the dead have claim upon yer soul."
He raises an eyebrow, turning back to the remains of the building, he speaks soft, deliberate words, heavy enough to be understood “Brutish…? I suppose that isn’t wrong, but all I do, I do for those I care about.”
"Caring for someone is by taking others lives you ninny!?" She bellows, her now much larger fire spirit stalking over.
He nods politely “Yes ma’am, it’s all just business at the end of the day. There’s and mine. I won’t let my family be hurt, not again.”
"I don't care. If you are a killer, you deserve to die like them." She snarls, his eyes blazing.
He nods again, clasping his hands together, “Then kill me, ma’am. If you think you’re better, show me, or just judge in silence.”
(Make a Dex save (DC: 22) then make a Con save (DC: 22))
The Architect is performing tests on small amounts of the Blight Flower serum that Stroth gave her, seeing how she can use it to make something even more horrifying. The nightmare child is coiled around one of her arms, watching their mother work curiously and making inquisitive chirping sounds.
Behind her, she feels a presence. Not one of this world, but from beyond it. A figure, dressed in drapes of black that look to be cut from the void itself watches her. They have a head, if you could call it that, or perhaps it's a mask. Either way, it wears that skull of a deer, the bones rotted and browned.
Her mask moves across the cloud of shadowy miasma that is her 'head', stopping to look right at the presence, the rest of her body not turning to face it. "Who are you?" The mad artist asks, not seeming intimidated in the least.
"No one important. Simply a watcher, admiring your skill." They said, tilting their head "You have a strange talent I do say. Not a bad one, but it is barely the first step to what you could be dear."
"Thank you- the strange and uncanny is a specialty of mine." The horror pauses her work momentarily, setting down the vial of blight flower extract, seeming intrigued by their last sentence. "...Becoming a Nightmare Lord isn't even the first step? Seems I've a ways to go, then. Where do I go from here?"
"Well, for one, spreading your creations to the universe and beyond. Improving your skill the transcend the boundaries of reality so your essence is woven in to the very fabric of space and time. The like and such." It waves a boney, horribly aged hand that somehow appears from the fabric of their cloak.
She fully turns to face them, her mask remaining looking right at him the whole time. The mask shifts to depict a smiling expression- like a six-eyed version of the classic Comedy mask. "That does sound absolutely delightful. Tell me, how do I go about spreading my creations across the entire universe?"
"Folks always believe that you need technology or devices or the sort to transcend the boundaries of this universe or the next, bunch of rubbish is what that is. Tell me, do you believe in me?" It asks, cokcing it head to the side.
"Of course I do- after all, you're standing right in front of me- or at the very least, a part of you or extension of yourself. To deny that would be ignorance beyond ignorance." She answers. The adorable little horror coiled around her arm skitters up to perch on her chitinous shoulder, curiously looking back at them.
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)
The Stugel stops to watch as the fire is consumed by the spirit. He says nothing, watching in complete silence, knowing the man within is dead before walking over to the woman, nodding respectfully.
She snorts "Not a love for life are ye you brutish thing? May the dead have claim upon yer soul."
He raises an eyebrow, turning back to the remains of the building, he speaks soft, deliberate words, heavy enough to be understood “Brutish…? I suppose that isn’t wrong, but all I do, I do for those I care about.”
"Caring for someone is by taking others lives you ninny!?" She bellows, her now much larger fire spirit stalking over.
He nods politely “Yes ma’am, it’s all just business at the end of the day. There’s and mine. I won’t let my family be hurt, not again.”
"I don't care. If you are a killer, you deserve to die like them." She snarls, his eyes blazing.
He nods again, clasping his hands together, “Then kill me, ma’am. If you think you’re better, show me, or just judge in silence.”
(Make a Dex save (DC: 22) then make a Con save (DC: 22))
Dex save:22 Con save:19
He is barely able to dodge the blast of fire that suddenly erupts from the fire spirits mouth but not without a few singed hairs. The halfling clicks their tounge and chuckles "Scittering little critter.."
The Architect is performing tests on small amounts of the Blight Flower serum that Stroth gave her, seeing how she can use it to make something even more horrifying. The nightmare child is coiled around one of her arms, watching their mother work curiously and making inquisitive chirping sounds.
Behind her, she feels a presence. Not one of this world, but from beyond it. A figure, dressed in drapes of black that look to be cut from the void itself watches her. They have a head, if you could call it that, or perhaps it's a mask. Either way, it wears that skull of a deer, the bones rotted and browned.
Her mask moves across the cloud of shadowy miasma that is her 'head', stopping to look right at the presence, the rest of her body not turning to face it. "Who are you?" The mad artist asks, not seeming intimidated in the least.
"No one important. Simply a watcher, admiring your skill." They said, tilting their head "You have a strange talent I do say. Not a bad one, but it is barely the first step to what you could be dear."
"Thank you- the strange and uncanny is a specialty of mine." The horror pauses her work momentarily, setting down the vial of blight flower extract, seeming intrigued by their last sentence. "...Becoming a Nightmare Lord isn't even the first step? Seems I've a ways to go, then. Where do I go from here?"
"Well, for one, spreading your creations to the universe and beyond. Improving your skill the transcend the boundaries of reality so your essence is woven in to the very fabric of space and time. The like and such." It waves a boney, horribly aged hand that somehow appears from the fabric of their cloak.
She fully turns to face them, her mask remaining looking right at him the whole time. The mask shifts to depict a smiling expression- like a six-eyed version of the classic Comedy mask. "That does sound absolutely delightful. Tell me, how do I go about spreading my creations across the entire universe?"
"Folks always believe that you need technology or devices or the sort to transcend the boundaries of this universe or the next, bunch of rubbish is what that is. Tell me, do you believe in me?" It asks, cokcing it head to the side.
"Of course I do- after all, you're standing right in front of me- or at the very least, a part of you or extension of yourself. To deny that would be ignorance beyond ignorance." She answers. The adorable little horror coiled around her arm skitters up to perch on her chitinous shoulder, curiously looking back at them.
"No no, you need to believe my childe. Believe that I hold your universe in my palm, that I am the soul creature that can change it and your life at this very moment. It is something you need to do."
He jumps a bit. Well, more than a bit given that he's a Harengon, but he doesn't quite hit the ceiling. He waves a little bit and, after a moment's deliberation, approaches. "Hi! What's your name?"
They fix their cloak and cock their head to the side "I am Nothing, both literally and physically." They said, their tone soft and gentle.
He takes off his beret and holds it in his paws. "M-my name is Gideon. It's nice to meet you, Nothing. Is it... alright if I call you that?" He seems to be trying to be respectful, but doesn't understand the situation he is in exactly.
"Thank you- the strange and uncanny is a specialty of mine." The horror pauses her work momentarily, setting down the vial of blight flower extract, seeming intrigued by their last sentence. "...Becoming a Nightmare Lord isn't even the first step? Seems I've a ways to go, then. Where do I go from here?"
"Well, for one, spreading your creations to the universe and beyond. Improving your skill the transcend the boundaries of reality so your essence is woven in to the very fabric of space and time. The like and such." It waves a boney, horribly aged hand that somehow appears from the fabric of their cloak.
She fully turns to face them, her mask remaining looking right at him the whole time. The mask shifts to depict a smiling expression- like a six-eyed version of the classic Comedy mask. "That does sound absolutely delightful. Tell me, how do I go about spreading my creations across the entire universe?"
"Folks always believe that you need technology or devices or the sort to transcend the boundaries of this universe or the next, bunch of rubbish is what that is. Tell me, do you believe in me?" It asks, cokcing it head to the side.
"Of course I do- after all, you're standing right in front of me- or at the very least, a part of you or extension of yourself. To deny that would be ignorance beyond ignorance." She answers. The adorable little horror coiled around her arm skitters up to perch on her chitinous shoulder, curiously looking back at them.
"No no, you need to believe my childe. Believe that I hold your universe in my palm, that I am the soul creature that can change it and your life at this very moment. It is something you need to do."
She is silent for a second. "...Yeah, I can do that. I believe you." She responds genuinely.
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)
The Stugel stops to watch as the fire is consumed by the spirit. He says nothing, watching in complete silence, knowing the man within is dead before walking over to the woman, nodding respectfully.
She snorts "Not a love for life are ye you brutish thing? May the dead have claim upon yer soul."
He raises an eyebrow, turning back to the remains of the building, he speaks soft, deliberate words, heavy enough to be understood “Brutish…? I suppose that isn’t wrong, but all I do, I do for those I care about.”
"Caring for someone is by taking others lives you ninny!?" She bellows, her now much larger fire spirit stalking over.
He nods politely “Yes ma’am, it’s all just business at the end of the day. There’s and mine. I won’t let my family be hurt, not again.”
"I don't care. If you are a killer, you deserve to die like them." She snarls, his eyes blazing.
He nods again, clasping his hands together, “Then kill me, ma’am. If you think you’re better, show me, or just judge in silence.”
(Make a Dex save (DC: 22) then make a Con save (DC: 22))
Dex save:22 Con save:19
He is barely able to dodge the blast of fire that suddenly erupts from the fire spirits mouth but not without a few singed hairs. The halfling clicks their tounge and chuckles "Scittering little critter.."
“Thank you ma’am, though… compared to the rest of my species, I’m not exactly small.” He plucks out the singed hairs without much effort “I’m not going to fight you, and if you kill every killer you meet, I must ask, does that make you any better?”
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"No one important. Simply a watcher, admiring your skill." They said, tilting their head "You have a strange talent I do say. Not a bad one, but it is barely the first step to what you could be dear."
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
(you wanna rp wendo?)
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
He nods politely “Yes ma’am, it’s all just business at the end of the day. There’s and mine. I won’t let my family be hurt, not again.”
"Thank you- the strange and uncanny is a specialty of mine." The horror pauses her work momentarily, setting down the vial of blight flower extract, seeming intrigued by their last sentence. "...Becoming a Nightmare Lord isn't even the first step? Seems I've a ways to go, then. Where do I go from here?"
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)
(hi yvonne)
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
"I don't care. If you are a killer, you deserve to die like them." She snarls, his eyes blazing.
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
"Well, for one, spreading your creations to the universe and beyond. Improving your skill the transcend the boundaries of reality so your essence is woven in to the very fabric of space and time. The like and such." It waves a boney, horribly aged hand that somehow appears from the fabric of their cloak.
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
He nods again, clasping his hands together, “Then kill me, ma’am. If you think you’re better, show me, or just judge in silence.”
She fully turns to face them, her mask remaining looking right at him the whole time. The mask shifts to depict a smiling expression- like a six-eyed version of the classic Comedy mask. "That does sound absolutely delightful. Tell me, how do I go about spreading my creations across the entire universe?"
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)
He jumps a bit. Well, more than a bit given that he's a Harengon, but he doesn't quite hit the ceiling. He waves a little bit and, after a moment's deliberation, approaches. "Hi! What's your name?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
(Make a Dex save (DC: 22) then make a Con save (DC: 22))
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
"Folks always believe that you need technology or devices or the sort to transcend the boundaries of this universe or the next, bunch of rubbish is what that is. Tell me, do you believe in me?" It asks, cokcing it head to the side.
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 fix their cloak and cock their head to the side "I am Nothing, both literally and physically." They said, their tone soft and gentle.
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
Dex save:6 Con save:25
"Of course I do- after all, you're standing right in front of me- or at the very least, a part of you or extension of yourself. To deny that would be ignorance beyond ignorance." She answers. The adorable little horror coiled around her arm skitters up to perch on her chitinous shoulder, curiously looking back at them.
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)
He is barely able to dodge the blast of fire that suddenly erupts from the fire spirits mouth but not without a few singed hairs. The halfling clicks their tounge and chuckles "Scittering little critter.."
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
"No no, you need to believe my childe. Believe that I hold your universe in my palm, that I am the soul creature that can change it and your life at this very moment. It is something you need to do."
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
He takes off his beret and holds it in his paws. "M-my name is Gideon. It's nice to meet you, Nothing. Is it... alright if I call you that?" He seems to be trying to be respectful, but doesn't understand the situation he is in exactly.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
She is silent for a second. "...Yeah, I can do that. I believe you." She responds genuinely.
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)
“Thank you ma’am, though… compared to the rest of my species, I’m not exactly small.” He plucks out the singed hairs without much effort “I’m not going to fight you, and if you kill every killer you meet, I must ask, does that make you any better?”