"You hear of a lot of things when you're hiding in the walls and trying not to be heard yourself. People always talked about how outside was filled with barbarians, and how the war was coming and we needed to protect ourselves."
"Barbarians... they must speak of the Jiralhanae." (the brutes)
"Maybe. You'd know better than I."
"Oafs, all of them..."
"Hey, now, they can't all be bad."
"Well, I know of none who were decent."
He goes quiet. "Just because you experience something doesn't always mean it's true."
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)
He shrugs. "Well, you get used to it. It's nice to know that you're in control of your own life, and growing your own food is a good way to get some of that control. Plus, it keeps me healthy. What's your name, sir? If you don't mind me asking."
"My name is Duke Richard Anatrus. And what about you?" He tilts his head, smiling a bit.
He looks like he's about to speak, then stops. "The crows say I shouldn't tell you. They ain't nice, but they ain't never wrong neither. Sorry 'bout that, sir."
There are no crows in sight. Possibly due to the unsettling number of scarecrows in the pumpkin patch.
"You hear of a lot of things when you're hiding in the walls and trying not to be heard yourself. People always talked about how outside was filled with barbarians, and how the war was coming and we needed to protect ourselves."
"Barbarians... they must speak of the Jiralhanae." (the brutes)
"Maybe. You'd know better than I."
"Oafs, all of them..."
"Hey, now, they can't all be bad."
"Well, I know of none who were decent."
He goes quiet. "Just because you experience something doesn't always mean it's true."
"Perhaps. I would love to meet one that does not see my kind with hatred."
He takes a long draw on his cigar, “Who are they and who don’t they like?”
"Most people. But tieflings and things that defy natural order." He shrugs and grins, clasping his hands being his back.
"What about angry, chain smoking, tree giants? Do they defy the natural order?" He seems to grow a little taller and the surrounding branches begin to whisper in anticipation.
"On my list, they should be." His tone his cold but he beams anyways. "They should be turned into firewood just like their trees."
A hedge of branches and brambles begins to build up in a wide circle all around you (cancels teleportation) and the Kapre leans in real close. His smoke stained breath is suffocating as he rumbles, “Takes some nerve to waltz around and declare genocide. I think someone should stand up against that.”
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)
He shrugs. "Well, you get used to it. It's nice to know that you're in control of your own life, and growing your own food is a good way to get some of that control. Plus, it keeps me healthy. What's your name, sir? If you don't mind me asking."
"My name is Duke Richard Anatrus. And what about you?" He tilts his head, smiling a bit.
He looks like he's about to speak, then stops. "The crows say I shouldn't tell you. They ain't nice, but they ain't never wrong neither. Sorry 'bout that, sir."
There are no crows in sight. Possibly due to the unsettling number of scarecrows in the pumpkin patch.
"So, you like music, I take it?"
He huffs and narrows his eyes. "And what exactly do the crows say about me hm?" He asks, his tone sickly sweet.
"And yes I do. Good music, most is horrible if not played right."
He takes a long draw on his cigar, “Who are they and who don’t they like?”
"Most people. But tieflings and things that defy natural order." He shrugs and grins, clasping his hands being his back.
"What about angry, chain smoking, tree giants? Do they defy the natural order?" He seems to grow a little taller and the surrounding branches begin to whisper in anticipation.
"On my list, they should be." His tone his cold but he beams anyways. "They should be turned into firewood just like their trees."
A hedge of branches and brambles begins to build up in a wide circle all around you (cancels teleportation) and the Kapre leans in real close. His smoke stained breath is suffocating as he rumbles, “Takes some nerve to waltz around and declare genocide. I think someone should stand up against that.”
"You can try." He says and smiles "but you might end up a bonfire." He chuckles and snaps his fingers. A wall of light separates them, searing everything it touches.
He takes a long draw on his cigar, “Who are they and who don’t they like?”
"Most people. But tieflings and things that defy natural order." He shrugs and grins, clasping his hands being his back.
"What about angry, chain smoking, tree giants? Do they defy the natural order?" He seems to grow a little taller and the surrounding branches begin to whisper in anticipation.
"On my list, they should be." His tone his cold but he beams anyways. "They should be turned into firewood just like their trees."
A hedge of branches and brambles begins to build up in a wide circle all around you (cancels teleportation) and the Kapre leans in real close. His smoke stained breath is suffocating as he rumbles, “Takes some nerve to waltz around and declare genocide. I think someone should stand up against that.”
"You can try." He says and smiles "but you might end up a bonfire." He chuckles and snaps his fingers. A wall of light separates them, searing everything it touches.
He says a few words as foul as his breath and takes a step back. He stamps his cigar into the ground, causing a tendril of roots and branches to burst from the ground and strike the wall.
A Blindfolded girl sits at a table, looking sullen.
A young, slightly transparent woman in a vest is sitting in the bar, drinking shot after shot
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)
He shrugs. "Well, you get used to it. It's nice to know that you're in control of your own life, and growing your own food is a good way to get some of that control. Plus, it keeps me healthy. What's your name, sir? If you don't mind me asking."
"My name is Duke Richard Anatrus. And what about you?" He tilts his head, smiling a bit.
He looks like he's about to speak, then stops. "The crows say I shouldn't tell you. They ain't nice, but they ain't never wrong neither. Sorry 'bout that, sir."
There are no crows in sight. Possibly due to the unsettling number of scarecrows in the pumpkin patch.
"So, you like music, I take it?"
He huffs and narrows his eyes. "And what exactly do the crows say about me hm?" He asks, his tone sickly sweet.
"And yes I do. Good music, most is horrible if not played right."
He doesn't respond for a couple of seconds. No expression, just staring at the ground. "I don't like your tone of voice, mister. All they said was that I shouldn't tell you my name. But now they're causing a ruckus and I can't hear myself think." He reaches into a bag beside him and pulls out a pair of knitting needles and some yarn.
"You want a sweater, Duke? It's gonna get mighty cold before it gets war again."
He takes a long draw on his cigar, “Who are they and who don’t they like?”
"Most people. But tieflings and things that defy natural order." He shrugs and grins, clasping his hands being his back.
"What about angry, chain smoking, tree giants? Do they defy the natural order?" He seems to grow a little taller and the surrounding branches begin to whisper in anticipation.
"On my list, they should be." His tone his cold but he beams anyways. "They should be turned into firewood just like their trees."
A hedge of branches and brambles begins to build up in a wide circle all around you (cancels teleportation) and the Kapre leans in real close. His smoke stained breath is suffocating as he rumbles, “Takes some nerve to waltz around and declare genocide. I think someone should stand up against that.”
"You can try." He says and smiles "but you might end up a bonfire." He chuckles and snaps his fingers. A wall of light separates them, searing everything it touches.
He says a few words as foul as his breath and takes a step back. He stamps his cigar into the ground, causing a tendril of roots and branches to burst from the ground and strike the wall.
The wall seems to burn the branch before it can even poke through. The man smiles "pure radiance, a favorite of mine."
He shrugs. "Well, you get used to it. It's nice to know that you're in control of your own life, and growing your own food is a good way to get some of that control. Plus, it keeps me healthy. What's your name, sir? If you don't mind me asking."
"My name is Duke Richard Anatrus. And what about you?" He tilts his head, smiling a bit.
He looks like he's about to speak, then stops. "The crows say I shouldn't tell you. They ain't nice, but they ain't never wrong neither. Sorry 'bout that, sir."
There are no crows in sight. Possibly due to the unsettling number of scarecrows in the pumpkin patch.
"So, you like music, I take it?"
He huffs and narrows his eyes. "And what exactly do the crows say about me hm?" He asks, his tone sickly sweet.
"And yes I do. Good music, most is horrible if not played right."
He doesn't respond for a couple of seconds. No expression, just staring at the ground. "I don't like your tone of voice, mister. All they said was that I shouldn't tell you my name. But now they're causing a ruckus and I can't hear myself think." He reaches into a bag beside him and pulls out a pair of knitting needles and some yarn.
"You want a sweater, Duke? It's gonna get mighty cold before it gets war again."
Richard narrows his eyes until they are slits. He takes a deep breath, pushing down unnecessary rage. "I'm sorry." He says, though the words sound foreign in his mouth. "I just grow upset when others talk behind my back. I would rather they say it to my face." He says and fixes the front of his suit.
"I would say yes, but my body is always warm. I do not need you to make one."
"That's the spirit! How would you like a free pumpkin, by the by?"
"No need for such charity, but the gesture is appreciated.... though, I hear tales of a dragon merchant. Perhaps they would like to trade wares."
He looks up to the treeline, seemingly listening to something. "Darn, I gotta go now. The crows say that I should meet the dragon. Well, thanks for the conversation. Safe travels, my friend."
He pulls out a book and reads some words in sylvan. A pair of horse-like scarecrows, covered in mud and leaves, slowly rise in front of the cart and begin to pull it.
*hoi?*
psychopath ^-^
The great dragon merchant descends from the sky.
He goes quiet. "Just because you experience something doesn't always mean it's true."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Hi. Lord's rest?
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)
He looks like he's about to speak, then stops. "The crows say I shouldn't tell you. They ain't nice, but they ain't never wrong neither. Sorry 'bout that, sir."
There are no crows in sight. Possibly due to the unsettling number of scarecrows in the pumpkin patch.
"So, you like music, I take it?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Perhaps. I would love to meet one that does not see my kind with hatred."
A hedge of branches and brambles begins to build up in a wide circle all around you (cancels teleportation) and the Kapre leans in real close. His smoke stained breath is suffocating as he rumbles, “Takes some nerve to waltz around and declare genocide. I think someone should stand up against that.”
I introed there
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)
He huffs and narrows his eyes. "And what exactly do the crows say about me hm?" He asks, his tone sickly sweet.
"And yes I do. Good music, most is horrible if not played right."
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 can try." He says and smiles "but you might end up a bonfire." He chuckles and snaps his fingers. A wall of light separates them, searing everything it touches.
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
"That's the spirit! How would you like a free pumpkin, by the by?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"No need for such charity, but the gesture is appreciated.... though, I hear tales of a dragon merchant. Perhaps they would like to trade wares."
Nolkiss the dragon has set up shop at the edge of town by the entrance to the forest.
He says a few words as foul as his breath and takes a step back. He stamps his cigar into the ground, causing a tendril of roots and branches to burst from the ground and strike the wall.
A Blindfolded girl sits at a table, looking sullen.
A young, slightly transparent woman in a vest is sitting in the bar, drinking shot after shot
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)
He doesn't respond for a couple of seconds. No expression, just staring at the ground. "I don't like your tone of voice, mister. All they said was that I shouldn't tell you my name. But now they're causing a ruckus and I can't hear myself think." He reaches into a bag beside him and pulls out a pair of knitting needles and some yarn.
"You want a sweater, Duke? It's gonna get mighty cold before it gets war again."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
The wall seems to burn the branch before it can even poke through. The man smiles "pure radiance, a favorite of mine."
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
Richard narrows his eyes until they are slits. He takes a deep breath, pushing down unnecessary rage. "I'm sorry." He says, though the words sound foreign in his mouth. "I just grow upset when others talk behind my back. I would rather they say it to my face." He says and fixes the front of his suit.
"I would say yes, but my body is always warm. I do not need you to make one."
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 looks up to the treeline, seemingly listening to something. "Darn, I gotta go now. The crows say that I should meet the dragon. Well, thanks for the conversation. Safe travels, my friend."
He pulls out a book and reads some words in sylvan. A pair of horse-like scarecrows, covered in mud and leaves, slowly rise in front of the cart and begin to pull it.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*rp wedigo?*
psychopath ^-^