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.
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."
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?"
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."
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.
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?"
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."
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."
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
It looks up at him and shifts from one foot to the other. "Is scary up there." It said, pointing upwards with its wing.
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
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.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Richard tilts his head "I wouldn't do that." He said, his tone soft.
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
"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.
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 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.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"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.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
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.
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
"Me, because I know it." He said and tilted his head.
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 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.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"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.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He stares into his eyes and tilts his head up, baring his neck.
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'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.