The hexblood(?) farmer(?) is in his smoldering shed, building scarecrows while muttering to himself. He looks mostly normal again.
There is a noise in the shed, up in the ceiling. Something is getting knocked down and there is fluttering of wings as a turkey vulture aarakocra, a child one it seems, falls from its hiding space.
The farmer looks like he nearly had a heart attack. He quickly shakes it off (mostly) and rushes over to help. "Oh, dang, are you alright?" He extends a still-shaking hand.
It looks up at him and shifts from one foot to the other. "Is scary up there." It said, pointing upwards with its wing.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
The hexblood(?) farmer(?) is in his smoldering shed, building scarecrows while muttering to himself. He looks mostly normal again.
Troopers walk by, indifferent.
He looks over, then turns to a random chair that somehow survived the fire, looking a few inches above the back. "You were wrong this time. No, that's the third time now. That time still counts. I'm going back to work, please don't bother me." He then continues making scarecrows.
*small note, truesight does not reveal him to be a shapeshifted or illusion-wrapped creature, and he doesn't appear to be talking to an invisible creature.*
A trooper walks inside. "Whats goin on here?"
He turns around. He speaks slightly louder than normal, as though he were trying to talk over something. "Howdy, neighbor. Just tellin' off the crows. They said you'd shoot me while I was working. I would offer you a slice of pie, but you folks smashed and burned all my pumpkins, blueberry bushes, and apple trees. How do you feel about a scarf or gloves instead? I managed to save some yarn from the fire."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The hexblood(?) farmer(?) is in his smoldering shed, building scarecrows while muttering to himself. He looks mostly normal again.
Troopers walk by, indifferent.
He looks over, then turns to a random chair that somehow survived the fire, looking a few inches above the back. "You were wrong this time. No, that's the third time now. That time still counts. I'm going back to work, please don't bother me." He then continues making scarecrows.
*small note, truesight does not reveal him to be a shapeshifted or illusion-wrapped creature, and he doesn't appear to be talking to an invisible creature.*
A trooper walks inside. "Whats goin on here?"
He turns around. He speaks slightly louder than normal, as though he were trying to talk over something. "Howdy, neighbor. Just tellin' off the crows. They said you'd shoot me while I was working. I would offer you a slice of pie, but you folks smashed and burned all my pumpkins, blueberry bushes, and apple trees. How do you feel about a scarf or gloves instead? I managed to save some yarn from the fire."
"Who were you talking to."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The hexblood(?) farmer(?) is in his smoldering shed, building scarecrows while muttering to himself. He looks mostly normal again.
There is a noise in the shed, up in the ceiling. Something is getting knocked down and there is fluttering of wings as a turkey vulture aarakocra, a child one it seems, falls from its hiding space.
The farmer looks like he nearly had a heart attack. He quickly shakes it off (mostly) and rushes over to help. "Oh, dang, are you alright?" He extends a still-shaking hand.
It looks up at him and shifts from one foot to the other. "Is scary up there." It said, pointing upwards with its wing.
He looks like he wants to hug the aarakocra, a tear forming in his eye. "Yeah... it really is. Do you need any help?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He turns around. He speaks slightly louder than normal, as though he were trying to talk over something. "Howdy, neighbor. Just tellin' off the crows. They said you'd shoot me while I was working. I would offer you a slice of pie, but you folks smashed and burned all my pumpkins, blueberry bushes, and apple trees. How do you feel about a scarf or gloves instead? I managed to save some yarn from the fire."
"Who were you talking to."
"Pardon, sir? I-I told you, I was tellin' off the crows. I apologize if it sounded like I was talkin' to you. I admit I can be right mean sometimes to those darn birds, but I would never talk that way to a person."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He turns around. He speaks slightly louder than normal, as though he were trying to talk over something. "Howdy, neighbor. Just tellin' off the crows. They said you'd shoot me while I was working. I would offer you a slice of pie, but you folks smashed and burned all my pumpkins, blueberry bushes, and apple trees. How do you feel about a scarf or gloves instead? I managed to save some yarn from the fire."
"Who were you talking to."
"Pardon, sir? I-I told you, I was tellin' off the crows. I apologize if it sounded like I was talkin' to you. I admit I can be right mean sometimes to those darn birds, but I would never talk that way to a person."
The trooper turns his is flashlight and starts to examine the barn
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The hexblood(?) farmer(?) is in his smoldering shed, building scarecrows while muttering to himself. He looks mostly normal again.
There is a noise in the shed, up in the ceiling. Something is getting knocked down and there is fluttering of wings as a turkey vulture aarakocra, a child one it seems, falls from its hiding space.
The farmer looks like he nearly had a heart attack. He quickly shakes it off (mostly) and rushes over to help. "Oh, dang, are you alright?" He extends a still-shaking hand.
It looks up at him and shifts from one foot to the other. "Is scary up there." It said, pointing upwards with its wing.
He looks like he wants to hug the aarakocra, a tear forming in his eye. "Yeah... it really is. Do you need any help?"
It looks up at him and then down at the ground, shifting again. It keeps moving its wings in circles like it doesn't know where to put them. "Knee bone cappers. Hurt itty bit." It says and looks back up.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
He turns around. He speaks slightly louder than normal, as though he were trying to talk over something. "Howdy, neighbor. Just tellin' off the crows. They said you'd shoot me while I was working. I would offer you a slice of pie, but you folks smashed and burned all my pumpkins, blueberry bushes, and apple trees. How do you feel about a scarf or gloves instead? I managed to save some yarn from the fire."
"Who were you talking to."
"Pardon, sir? I-I told you, I was tellin' off the crows. I apologize if it sounded like I was talkin' to you. I admit I can be right mean sometimes to those darn birds, but I would never talk that way to a person."
The trooper turns his is flashlight and starts to examine the barn
There are scarecrows everywhere, most of them chained to the wreckage. There are no crows. Not even a feather.
"I've found that only I can see em'. They don't like people, ya see?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The hexblood(?) farmer(?) is in his smoldering shed, building scarecrows while muttering to himself. He looks mostly normal again.
There is a noise in the shed, up in the ceiling. Something is getting knocked down and there is fluttering of wings as a turkey vulture aarakocra, a child one it seems, falls from its hiding space.
The farmer looks like he nearly had a heart attack. He quickly shakes it off (mostly) and rushes over to help. "Oh, dang, are you alright?" He extends a still-shaking hand.
It looks up at him and shifts from one foot to the other. "Is scary up there." It said, pointing upwards with its wing.
He looks like he wants to hug the aarakocra, a tear forming in his eye. "Yeah... it really is. Do you need any help?"
It looks up at him and then down at the ground, shifting again. It keeps moving its wings in circles like it doesn't know where to put them. "Knee bone cappers. Hurt itty bit." It says and looks back up.
"C'mon, I got a chair. You can sit down while I find some bandages. What's your name, son? I'm Gregor."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He turns around. He speaks slightly louder than normal, as though he were trying to talk over something. "Howdy, neighbor. Just tellin' off the crows. They said you'd shoot me while I was working. I would offer you a slice of pie, but you folks smashed and burned all my pumpkins, blueberry bushes, and apple trees. How do you feel about a scarf or gloves instead? I managed to save some yarn from the fire."
"Who were you talking to."
"Pardon, sir? I-I told you, I was tellin' off the crows. I apologize if it sounded like I was talkin' to you. I admit I can be right mean sometimes to those darn birds, but I would never talk that way to a person."
The trooper turns his is flashlight and starts to examine the barn
There are scarecrows everywhere, most of them chained to the wreckage. There are no crows. Not even a feather.
"I've found that only I can see em'. They don't like people, ya see?"
"You're making stuff up." he growls. "Now who were you talking to?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"Your chair?" He snaps his fingers as the chair turns from the former material to a glowing stone one. "I believe you are mistaken."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
It looks up at him and shifts from one foot to the other. "Is scary up there." It said, pointing upwards with its wing.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
His eye twitches as he ignites his lightsaber
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
He turns around. He speaks slightly louder than normal, as though he were trying to talk over something. "Howdy, neighbor. Just tellin' off the crows. They said you'd shoot me while I was working. I would offer you a slice of pie, but you folks smashed and burned all my pumpkins, blueberry bushes, and apple trees. How do you feel about a scarf or gloves instead? I managed to save some yarn from the fire."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Richard tilts his head "I wouldn't do that." He said, his tone soft.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"Who were you talking to."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The saber burns a brighter red. "And why not?"
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"Because you know better," he said and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his eyes sparked to a glow.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
He looks like he wants to hug the aarakocra, a tear forming in his eye. "Yeah... it really is. Do you need any help?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Says who?" he asks, spinning his saber
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"Pardon, sir? I-I told you, I was tellin' off the crows. I apologize if it sounded like I was talkin' to you. I admit I can be right mean sometimes to those darn birds, but I would never talk that way to a person."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The trooper turns his is flashlight and starts to examine the barn
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
It looks up at him and then down at the ground, shifting again. It keeps moving its wings in circles like it doesn't know where to put them. "Knee bone cappers. Hurt itty bit." It says and looks back up.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"Me, because I know it." He said and tilted his head.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
He raises his saber and places it next to their neck, staring into their eyes.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
There are scarecrows everywhere, most of them chained to the wreckage. There are no crows. Not even a feather.
"I've found that only I can see em'. They don't like people, ya see?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"C'mon, I got a chair. You can sit down while I find some bandages. What's your name, son? I'm Gregor."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He stares into his eyes and tilts his head up, baring his neck.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"You're making stuff up." he growls. "Now who were you talking to?"
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The sith swings his lightsaber, trying to decapitate him.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.