Yvonne and Elsa look up at the citadel, Elsa admiring its grand architecture, and Yvonne relieved to be somewhere vaguely safe again. "-Incredible... such beautifully carved marble! I'm--- still not used to architecture--- that isn't strictly functional." Elsa approaches the building, looking up at the ceiling in wonder.
Yvonne pauses for a moment, glancing over to the King while running her fingers across an etched rune on the wall.
"Drummer, I'm... I'm not sure what to do. We've only been back here for a few days, and... so much has gone wrong. I'm scared for Elsa, for the Guild..."
Meanwhile, Amidais is continuing to help his King. "Of course, sire... er, Sire? May I be so bold as to ask what our course of action is now? A- After getting you unstuck from the fabric of reality, of course."
The king staggers along with them, giving some strange hand gestures to some of the guards and priests, who immediately begin to open doors and get the chamber ready.
"It is... certainly not what we expected. I'm completely clueless as to how all this happened... we were gone for a while, something must have happened, something weird, duplication. Maybe one of the doctors ploys? The area also seems more prepared for war than I've ever seen... it worries me greatly." He nods at a high ranking priest, who begins to lead the trio into the libraries.
"To eliminate them." He says, almost casually, as he finally gets his head through, now only trapped by his final leg.The air almost ripples with every movement he makes to break free. "They're clearly a ploy made by this doctor that keeps hindering us. Even though we don't have the 01 they seem to want."
*God, it feels good to be back. I love all these characters.*
Yvonne and Elsa follow the King and the priest further into the chamber, with Elsa still captivated by the decor. They currently are looking up at a large marble statue of Jhon the Tabaxi with childlike wonder.
Yvonne frowns, pondering the King's words. "It's like the whole world changed while we were gone... If this is the Doctor's doing, then there's no telling what else they're capable of. The best we can do is prepare for whatever comes our way." She places a hand on the King's shoulder. "We'll find a way to fix this. I'm certain of that."
Amidais continues to help the Spider King, grabbing at the edges of the demiplane with his hands in an attempt to pry the space open and free their leg. "When we saw them in the entrance hall, they... they seemed surprised to see us... Maybe they're actually... My liege, I say this in no way to offend you, but... could we be in the wrong?"
*I missed these characters as well. It feels great to be back in the action!*
Yvonne and Elsa follow the King and the priest further into the chamber, with Elsa still captivated by the decor. They currently are looking up at a large marble statue of Jhon the Tabaxi with childlike wonder.
Yvonne frowns, pondering the King's words. "It's like the whole world changed while we were gone... If this is the Doctor's doing, then there's no telling what else they're capable of. The best we can do is prepare for whatever comes our way." She places a hand on the King's shoulder. "We'll find a way to fix this. I'm certain of that."
Amidais continues to help the Spider King, grabbing at the edges of the demiplane with his hands in an attempt to pry the space open and free their leg. "When we saw them in the entrance hall, they... they seemed surprised to see us... Maybe they're actually... My liege, I say this in no way to offend you, but... could we be in the wrong?"
*I missed these characters as well. It feels great to be back in the action!*
The king nods at Yvonne in return, trying to appear as reassuring as possible, although he can feel only disaster from the situation they find themselves in. "We'll just have to weather the storm. Regroup. And ultimately, make a plan to reclaim the guild, and thwart the doctor."
The priest leads the trio on, past statues and runes, and eventually right to the back of the massive library. "This chamber will protect you." The priest states. "Only the King himself can open its entrance, making it impenetrable when needed, as its only opener is on the inside."
"Depending on how good the craftsmanship of my clones creator, that may prove to be ironic." The king hints as he pulls on a book, causing the bookshelf to slowly begin to swing out.
The Spider king gives Amidias a quick glare, not wanting to lose what seems to be his only loyal companion at this point, but also far from being in the mood to be told he's wrong. He finally pulls his leg out, freeing himself, and dusting shards of reality from his blade. "There is zero reason for there to not only be a duplicate of me, but," he pauses, closing his eyes for a second as bad memories resurface, "the queen, as well, if not to try and overthrow me and destroy the guild. No one but an enemy would stoop as low as to turn my own guilt and loss on me to try and weaken my resolve, no allies would do so."
"That," He states finally, flicking his blade, pointing down at the floor beside him, "is why we hunt them. Not only for their cruelty to me and all our history, not only for their deception, but for the sake of the guild we know. Our Spider Guild, without them." He continues down the hall, towards the massive exit out of the guild, as the giant wooden doors open once again. The moon shines through, illuminating his black, green and gold cape in moonlight.
*I forgot about Jhon the Tabaxi, you even spelt his name right, that made me smile :D*
Yvonne and Elsa continue to follow Drummer and the Priest, with Yvonne quiet and deep in contemplation, while Elsa moves about and breaks from the group every so often, looking at all the books and statues and runes.
Amidais physically recoils at his King's glare, seeming pained by the very idea of his disapproval. "A- Apologies, sire. It was foolish of me to suggest such a thing. I'll keep my remarks to myself for now." He then notices that the Spider King is actively leaving, and hurries after him.
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)
Yvonne and Elsa continue to follow Drummer and the Priest, with Yvonne quiet and deep in contemplation, while Elsa moves about and breaks from the group every so often, looking at all the books and statues and runes.
Amidais physically recoils at his King's glare, seeming pained by the very idea of his disapproval. "A- Apologies, sire. It was foolish of me to suggest such a thing. I'll keep my remarks to myself for now." He then notices that the Spider King is actively leaving, and hurries after him.
Moonlight also follows. After seeing that display of his, she is beginning to think that she underestimated the king. She then reconsiders. She definitely underestimated the king.
"Ah, king! I understand I'm dealing with forces beyond my understanding here, but if you could explain exactly who it is you're fighting here, that would be nice."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
My cults are dead, let's talk about myself where they used to be. I am The_cool_Elsecaller, a transfem lesbian who is still in the closet to all but a few people I know IRL. I enjoy video games, reading, writing, and sleeping. Feel free to PM me if you want writing advice or just want to talk.
"Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination"
Lonely is walking around, the floor and walls around them slowly losing color and fading, before regaining color as Lonely walks away from them.
A man with a coat that has more patches and rags than original clothe lurches around a corner. Crows flap about him like flies around a carcass. His ragged hat veils his face in shadow, "Drainage." speaks a dry, husky voice.
Lonely is walking around, the floor and walls around them slowly losing color and fading, before regaining color as Lonely walks away from them.
A man with a coat that has more patches and rags than original clothe lurches around a corner. Crows flap about him like flies around a carcass. His ragged hat veils his face in shadow, "Drainage." speaks a dry, husky voice.
Lonely turns around as the walls suddenly flash bright yellow before changing back again.
”Drainage? What are ya talkin’ about?” Lonely skips over to them.
Lonely is walking around, the floor and walls around them slowly losing color and fading, before regaining color as Lonely walks away from them.
A man with a coat that has more patches and rags than original clothe lurches around a corner. Crows flap about him like flies around a carcass. His ragged hat veils his face in shadow, "Drainage." speaks a dry, husky voice.
Lonely turns around as the walls suddenly flash bright yellow before changing back again.
”Drainage? What are ya talkin’ about?” Lonely skips over to them.
He takes a step back as the walls flash yellow and several pieces of dried straw fall from his rags. He seems to struggle, looking for the right words and fails, "Booming blooming... king..." He shakes his head and yanks at his shirt sleeve with a gloved hand.
Lonely is walking around, the floor and walls around them slowly losing color and fading, before regaining color as Lonely walks away from them.
A man with a coat that has more patches and rags than original clothe lurches around a corner. Crows flap about him like flies around a carcass. His ragged hat veils his face in shadow, "Drainage." speaks a dry, husky voice.
Lonely turns around as the walls suddenly flash bright yellow before changing back again.
”Drainage? What are ya talkin’ about?” Lonely skips over to them.
He takes a step back as the walls flash yellow and several pieces of dried straw fall from his rags. He seems to struggle, looking for the right words and fails, "Booming blooming... king..." He shakes his head and yanks at his shirt sleeve with a gloved hand.
“Booming Blooming King? Are ya talking nonsense, sir? What are ya doing here?”
Lonely is walking around, the floor and walls around them slowly losing color and fading, before regaining color as Lonely walks away from them.
A man with a coat that has more patches and rags than original clothe lurches around a corner. Crows flap about him like flies around a carcass. His ragged hat veils his face in shadow, "Drainage." speaks a dry, husky voice.
Lonely turns around as the walls suddenly flash bright yellow before changing back again.
”Drainage? What are ya talkin’ about?” Lonely skips over to them.
He takes a step back as the walls flash yellow and several pieces of dried straw fall from his rags. He seems to struggle, looking for the right words and fails, "Booming blooming... king..." He shakes his head and yanks at his shirt sleeve with a gloved hand.
“Booming Blooming King? Are ya talking nonsense, sir? What are ya doing here?”
The crows scream loudly, as the man yanks at his rags and shakes his head. Now you can see that his face is sackcloth, his hair is yellow straw, his eyes are black buttons, and his mouth is stitched shut with thick black thread. "Patchwork minds, memory blinds, Woven thread, won't stay dead..." He says, speaking a little more clearly, his jagged mouth is still twisted in a befuddled frown.
Lonely is walking around, the floor and walls around them slowly losing color and fading, before regaining color as Lonely walks away from them.
A man with a coat that has more patches and rags than original clothe lurches around a corner. Crows flap about him like flies around a carcass. His ragged hat veils his face in shadow, "Drainage." speaks a dry, husky voice.
Lonely turns around as the walls suddenly flash bright yellow before changing back again.
”Drainage? What are ya talkin’ about?” Lonely skips over to them.
He takes a step back as the walls flash yellow and several pieces of dried straw fall from his rags. He seems to struggle, looking for the right words and fails, "Booming blooming... king..." He shakes his head and yanks at his shirt sleeve with a gloved hand.
“Booming Blooming King? Are ya talking nonsense, sir? What are ya doing here?”
The crows scream loudly, as the man yanks at his rags and shakes his head. Now you can see that his face is sackcloth, his hair is yellow straw, his eyes are black buttons, and his mouth is stitched shut with thick black thread. "Patchwork minds, memory blinds, Woven thread, won't stay dead..." He says, speaking a little more clearly, his jagged mouth is still twisted in a befuddled frown.
“Ooh, you’re a scarecrow? Super cool! What animated you?” Lonely is walking around the man, observing them.
Lonely turns around as the walls suddenly flash bright yellow before changing back again.
”Drainage? What are ya talkin’ about?” Lonely skips over to them.
He takes a step back as the walls flash yellow and several pieces of dried straw fall from his rags. He seems to struggle, looking for the right words and fails, "Booming blooming... king..." He shakes his head and yanks at his shirt sleeve with a gloved hand.
“Booming Blooming King? Are ya talking nonsense, sir? What are ya doing here?”
The crows scream loudly, as the man yanks at his rags and shakes his head. Now you can see that his face is sackcloth, his hair is yellow straw, his eyes are black buttons, and his mouth is stitched shut with thick black thread. "Patchwork minds, memory blinds, Woven thread, won't stay dead..." He says, speaking a little more clearly, his jagged mouth is still twisted in a befuddled frown.
“Ooh, you’re a scarecrow? Super cool! What animated you?” Lonely is walking around the man, observing them.
With a few dry rattling breathes, the scarecrow manages to rasp, "Famine... the hunger of a dying people..." He tugs on his cloth shoulder and then speaks in a slightly different accent, "I'm awful sorry 'bout that.
Lonely turns around as the walls suddenly flash bright yellow before changing back again.
”Drainage? What are ya talkin’ about?” Lonely skips over to them.
He takes a step back as the walls flash yellow and several pieces of dried straw fall from his rags. He seems to struggle, looking for the right words and fails, "Booming blooming... king..." He shakes his head and yanks at his shirt sleeve with a gloved hand.
“Booming Blooming King? Are ya talking nonsense, sir? What are ya doing here?”
The crows scream loudly, as the man yanks at his rags and shakes his head. Now you can see that his face is sackcloth, his hair is yellow straw, his eyes are black buttons, and his mouth is stitched shut with thick black thread. "Patchwork minds, memory blinds, Woven thread, won't stay dead..." He says, speaking a little more clearly, his jagged mouth is still twisted in a befuddled frown.
“Ooh, you’re a scarecrow? Super cool! What animated you?” Lonely is walking around the man, observing them.
With a few dry rattling breathes, the scarecrow manages to rasp, "Famine... the hunger of a dying people..." He tugs on his cloth shoulder and then speaks in a slightly different accent, "I'm awful sorry 'bout that.
The crows scream loudly, as the man yanks at his rags and shakes his head. Now you can see that his face is sackcloth, his hair is yellow straw, his eyes are black buttons, and his mouth is stitched shut with thick black thread. "Patchwork minds, memory blinds, Woven thread, won't stay dead..." He says, speaking a little more clearly, his jagged mouth is still twisted in a befuddled frown.
“Ooh, you’re a scarecrow? Super cool! What animated you?” Lonely is walking around the man, observing them.
With a few dry rattling breathes, the scarecrow manages to rasp, "Famine... the hunger of a dying people..." He tugs on his cloth shoulder and then speaks in a slightly different accent, "I'm awful sorry 'bout that.
“Who’s starving to death?”
"Nobody anymore. I reckon I shoulda said the hunger o' a dead people." Strangely, his accent changes yet again, "I'm a sort of egregore. I was originally an empty shell, nothing but a straw effigy made from scraps of memory." He raises his arm wide to display his patches and rags, "but I was filled with emptiness, fed with famine and imbued with hunger as the town whose crops I guarded motionlessly starved to death. Then a twister breathed life into my rags and the spirits of the dead villagers flocked to me in the form of these crows. I don't reckon I can explain my existence any better than that. Sorry, I know it's a lot."
The crows scream loudly, as the man yanks at his rags and shakes his head. Now you can see that his face is sackcloth, his hair is yellow straw, his eyes are black buttons, and his mouth is stitched shut with thick black thread. "Patchwork minds, memory blinds, Woven thread, won't stay dead..." He says, speaking a little more clearly, his jagged mouth is still twisted in a befuddled frown.
“Ooh, you’re a scarecrow? Super cool! What animated you?” Lonely is walking around the man, observing them.
With a few dry rattling breathes, the scarecrow manages to rasp, "Famine... the hunger of a dying people..." He tugs on his cloth shoulder and then speaks in a slightly different accent, "I'm awful sorry 'bout that.
“Who’s starving to death?”
"Nobody anymore. I reckon I shoulda said the hunger o' a dead people." Strangely, his accent changes yet again, "I'm a sort of egregore. I was originally an empty shell, nothing but a straw effigy made from scraps of memory." He raises his arm wide to display his patches and rags, "but I was filled with emptiness, fed with famine and imbued with hunger as the town whose crops I guarded motionlessly starved to death. Then a twister breathed life into my rags and the spirits of the dead villagers flocked to me in the form of these crows. I don't reckon I can explain my existence any better than that. Sorry, I know it's a lot."
“Interesting! You sound like something my sister would make. She loves creating things. Though not usually sentient ones. She likes baking.”
The crows scream loudly, as the man yanks at his rags and shakes his head. Now you can see that his face is sackcloth, his hair is yellow straw, his eyes are black buttons, and his mouth is stitched shut with thick black thread. "Patchwork minds, memory blinds, Woven thread, won't stay dead..." He says, speaking a little more clearly, his jagged mouth is still twisted in a befuddled frown.
“Ooh, you’re a scarecrow? Super cool! What animated you?” Lonely is walking around the man, observing them.
With a few dry rattling breathes, the scarecrow manages to rasp, "Famine... the hunger of a dying people..." He tugs on his cloth shoulder and then speaks in a slightly different accent, "I'm awful sorry 'bout that.
“Who’s starving to death?”
"Nobody anymore. I reckon I shoulda said the hunger o' a dead people." Strangely, his accent changes yet again, "I'm a sort of egregore. I was originally an empty shell, nothing but a straw effigy made from scraps of memory." He raises his arm wide to display his patches and rags, "but I was filled with emptiness, fed with famine and imbued with hunger as the town whose crops I guarded motionlessly starved to death. Then a twister breathed life into my rags and the spirits of the dead villagers flocked to me in the form of these crows. I don't reckon I can explain my existence any better than that. Sorry, I know it's a lot."
“Interesting! You sound like something my sister would make. She loves creating things. Though not usually sentient ones. She likes baking.”
His button eyes seem to flash when you mention baking, "Who is your sister?"
“My sister? She’s a nobody, really. You probably haven’t heard of her, but she’s a really, really good chef. She used to just do it as a hobby but she started to get really good and she loves doing it. Why do you wanna know who she is?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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*If anyone else wants to roleplay, new or old characters, go for it! I'm officially back, as much as my replies may be slow.*
Long live the dragon slayers, long live the spider guild, long live the forums.
I want you to know. You are going to lose. You are going to lose badly. You’re going to lose badly and it’s going to be awesome.
Yvonne and Elsa follow the King and the priest further into the chamber, with Elsa still captivated by the decor. They currently are looking up at a large marble statue of Jhon the Tabaxi with childlike wonder.
Yvonne frowns, pondering the King's words. "It's like the whole world changed while we were gone... If this is the Doctor's doing, then there's no telling what else they're capable of. The best we can do is prepare for whatever comes our way." She places a hand on the King's shoulder. "We'll find a way to fix this. I'm certain of that."
Amidais continues to help the Spider King, grabbing at the edges of the demiplane with his hands in an attempt to pry the space open and free their leg. "When we saw them in the entrance hall, they... they seemed surprised to see us... Maybe they're actually... My liege, I say this in no way to offend you, but... could we be in the wrong?"
*I missed these characters as well. It feels great to be back in the action!*
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 king nods at Yvonne in return, trying to appear as reassuring as possible, although he can feel only disaster from the situation they find themselves in. "We'll just have to weather the storm. Regroup. And ultimately, make a plan to reclaim the guild, and thwart the doctor."
The priest leads the trio on, past statues and runes, and eventually right to the back of the massive library. "This chamber will protect you." The priest states. "Only the King himself can open its entrance, making it impenetrable when needed, as its only opener is on the inside."
"Depending on how good the craftsmanship of my clones creator, that may prove to be ironic." The king hints as he pulls on a book, causing the bookshelf to slowly begin to swing out.
The Spider king gives Amidias a quick glare, not wanting to lose what seems to be his only loyal companion at this point, but also far from being in the mood to be told he's wrong. He finally pulls his leg out, freeing himself, and dusting shards of reality from his blade. "There is zero reason for there to not only be a duplicate of me, but," he pauses, closing his eyes for a second as bad memories resurface, "the queen, as well, if not to try and overthrow me and destroy the guild. No one but an enemy would stoop as low as to turn my own guilt and loss on me to try and weaken my resolve, no allies would do so."
"That," He states finally, flicking his blade, pointing down at the floor beside him, "is why we hunt them. Not only for their cruelty to me and all our history, not only for their deception, but for the sake of the guild we know. Our Spider Guild, without them." He continues down the hall, towards the massive exit out of the guild, as the giant wooden doors open once again. The moon shines through, illuminating his black, green and gold cape in moonlight.
*I forgot about Jhon the Tabaxi, you even spelt his name right, that made me smile :D*
Long live the dragon slayers, long live the spider guild, long live the forums.
I want you to know. You are going to lose. You are going to lose badly. You’re going to lose badly and it’s going to be awesome.
Yvonne and Elsa continue to follow Drummer and the Priest, with Yvonne quiet and deep in contemplation, while Elsa moves about and breaks from the group every so often, looking at all the books and statues and runes.
Amidais physically recoils at his King's glare, seeming pained by the very idea of his disapproval. "A- Apologies, sire. It was foolish of me to suggest such a thing. I'll keep my remarks to myself for now." He then notices that the Spider King is actively leaving, and hurries after him.
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)
*Hooray!!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Moonlight also follows. After seeing that display of his, she is beginning to think that she underestimated the king. She then reconsiders. She definitely underestimated the king.
"Ah, king! I understand I'm dealing with forces beyond my understanding here, but if you could explain exactly who it is you're fighting here, that would be nice."
My cults are dead, let's talk about myself where they used to be. I am The_cool_Elsecaller, a transfem lesbian who is still in the closet to all but a few people I know IRL. I enjoy video games, reading, writing, and sleeping. Feel free to PM me if you want writing advice or just want to talk.
"Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination"
-First Ideal of the Knights Radiant
Extended Signature. Real Extended Signature
Lonely is walking around, the floor and walls around them slowly losing color and fading, before regaining color as Lonely walks away from them.
A man with a coat that has more patches and rags than original clothe lurches around a corner. Crows flap about him like flies around a carcass. His ragged hat veils his face in shadow, "Drainage." speaks a dry, husky voice.
Lonely turns around as the walls suddenly flash bright yellow before changing back again.
”Drainage? What are ya talkin’ about?” Lonely skips over to them.
He takes a step back as the walls flash yellow and several pieces of dried straw fall from his rags. He seems to struggle, looking for the right words and fails, "Booming blooming... king..." He shakes his head and yanks at his shirt sleeve with a gloved hand.
“Booming Blooming King? Are ya talking nonsense, sir? What are ya doing here?”
The crows scream loudly, as the man yanks at his rags and shakes his head. Now you can see that his face is sackcloth, his hair is yellow straw, his eyes are black buttons, and his mouth is stitched shut with thick black thread. "Patchwork minds, memory blinds, Woven thread, won't stay dead..." He says, speaking a little more clearly, his jagged mouth is still twisted in a befuddled frown.
“Ooh, you’re a scarecrow? Super cool! What animated you?” Lonely is walking around the man, observing them.
With a few dry rattling breathes, the scarecrow manages to rasp, "Famine... the hunger of a dying people..." He tugs on his cloth shoulder and then speaks in a slightly different accent, "I'm awful sorry 'bout that.
“Who’s starving to death?”
"Nobody anymore. I reckon I shoulda said the hunger o' a dead people." Strangely, his accent changes yet again, "I'm a sort of egregore. I was originally an empty shell, nothing but a straw effigy made from scraps of memory." He raises his arm wide to display his patches and rags, "but I was filled with emptiness, fed with famine and imbued with hunger as the town whose crops I guarded motionlessly starved to death. Then a twister breathed life into my rags and the spirits of the dead villagers flocked to me in the form of these crows. I don't reckon I can explain my existence any better than that. Sorry, I know it's a lot."
“Interesting! You sound like something my sister would make. She loves creating things. Though not usually sentient ones. She likes baking.”
His button eyes seem to flash when you mention baking, "Who is your sister?"
“My sister? She’s a nobody, really. You probably haven’t heard of her, but she’s a really, really good chef. She used to just do it as a hobby but she started to get really good and she loves doing it. Why do you wanna know who she is?”