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."
"Izazel." They said and sat down on the ground rather than the chair. They sweep a wing over it, like they were dusting it off for Gregor.
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"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
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?"
"That's not very polite. I know what I saw. I see em' every day." Some of the chains start to rattle. "Oh dear... we're in it now." He starts backing toward a hole in the burned wall. "I think ya woke the scarecrows... they can smell hostility, ya know?"
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
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?"
"That's not very polite. I know what I saw. I see em' every day." Some of the chains start to rattle. "Oh dear... we're in it now." He starts backing toward a hole in the burned wall. "I think ya woke the scarecrows... they can smell hostility, ya know?"
"I dont care." he then says something into his headset, more troopers soon appear.
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Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"C'mon, I got a chair. You can sit down while I find some bandages. What's your name, son? I'm Gregor."
"Izazel." They said and sat down on the ground rather than the chair. They sweep a wing over it, like they were dusting it off for Gregor.
"That's a nice name." He starts searching his toolbox. "It sounds like 'scapegoat' in celestial. Did ya know that?" He stops searching and places his hands on his hips. "You know, goldarnit, I'm out of bandages." He rips some strips off of his shirt and begins to wrap them around Izazel's knees.
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
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?"
"That's not very polite. I know what I saw. I see em' every day." Some of the chains start to rattle. "Oh dear... we're in it now." He starts backing toward a hole in the burned wall. "I think ya woke the scarecrows... they can smell hostility, ya know?"
"I dont care." he then says something into his headset, more troopers soon appear.
"Please, I..." he suddenly collapses to the floor, clutching his ears as though hearing an incredibly loud cacophany. "It... will... all... be... fine..." he strains. The chains start to burst and fall to the floor. The scarecrows aren't moving.
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.
"C'mon, I got a chair. You can sit down while I find some bandages. What's your name, son? I'm Gregor."
"Izazel." They said and sat down on the ground rather than the chair. They sweep a wing over it, like they were dusting it off for Gregor.
"That's a nice name." He starts searching his toolbox. "It sounds like 'scapegoat' in celestial. Did ya know that?" He stops searching and places his hands on his hips. "You know, goldarnit, I'm out of bandages." He rips some strips off of his shirt and begins to wrap them around Izazel's knees.
Izazel quickly squirms away from him and shakes their head fast. "Don't rip nice shirt. Bad bad." They say and take the strips, casting mending on them. "I will use an old cloak of mine."
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"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
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?"
"That's not very polite. I know what I saw. I see em' every day." Some of the chains start to rattle. "Oh dear... we're in it now." He starts backing toward a hole in the burned wall. "I think ya woke the scarecrows... they can smell hostility, ya know?"
"I dont care." he then says something into his headset, more troopers soon appear.
"Please, I..." he suddenly collapses to the floor, clutching his ears as though hearing an incredibly loud cacophany. "It... will... all... be... fine..." he strains. The chains start to burst and fall to the floor. The scarecrows aren't moving.
"What the..."
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.
"C'mon, I got a chair. You can sit down while I find some bandages. What's your name, son? I'm Gregor."
"Izazel." They said and sat down on the ground rather than the chair. They sweep a wing over it, like they were dusting it off for Gregor.
"That's a nice name." He starts searching his toolbox. "It sounds like 'scapegoat' in celestial. Did ya know that?" He stops searching and places his hands on his hips. "You know, goldarnit, I'm out of bandages." He rips some strips off of his shirt and begins to wrap them around Izazel's knees.
Izazel quickly squirms away from him and shakes their head fast. "Don't rip nice shirt. Bad bad." They say and take the strips, casting mending on them. "I will use an old cloak of mine."
"Well... if it makes you more comfortable. I can buy more shirts. You can't buy another Izazel, ya know? You're much more important than any cloth. Even the crows agree with me this time."
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
His jaw clenched tightly, ander pouring off of him
Richard smiled warmly "I knew you were filled with rage, it smells like burning woods." He said and raised a brow.
"Get out of my chair."
"Your chair?" He snaps his fingers as the chair turns from the former material to a glowing stone one. "I believe you are mistaken."
His eye twitches as he ignites his lightsaber
Richard tilts his head "I wouldn't do that." He said, his tone soft.
The saber burns a brighter red. "And why not?"
"Because you know better," he said and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his eyes sparked to a glow.
"Says who?" he asks, spinning his saber
"Me, because I know it." He said and tilted his head.
He raises his saber and places it next to their neck, staring into their eyes.
He stares into his eyes and tilts his head up, baring his neck.
The sith swings his lightsaber, trying to decapitate him.
He finds a shield has materialized in the way. He smiles "Come now, Your better than that."
He continues to attack them, swinging over and over. During this rampage his mask has fallen off to show a young man, face contorted with rage
Richard chuckles and lifts a brow "Your forgot something there."
"I DONT CARE!" he continues to rage, objects exploding
Richard grabs him by the shoulders suddenly as his skin has gained a certain shinner appearance, He forces him to the ground as his face adopts a look of seriousness. "You will stop."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
"C'mon, I got a chair. You can sit down while I find some bandages. What's your name, son? I'm Gregor."
"Izazel." They said and sat down on the ground rather than the chair. They sweep a wing over it, like they were dusting it off for Gregor.
"That's a nice name." He starts searching his toolbox. "It sounds like 'scapegoat' in celestial. Did ya know that?" He stops searching and places his hands on his hips. "You know, goldarnit, I'm out of bandages." He rips some strips off of his shirt and begins to wrap them around Izazel's knees.
Izazel quickly squirms away from him and shakes their head fast. "Don't rip nice shirt. Bad bad." They say and take the strips, casting mending on them. "I will use an old cloak of mine."
"Well... if it makes you more comfortable. I can buy more shirts. You can't buy another Izazel, ya know? You're much more important than any cloth. Even the crows agree with me this time."
Izazel still shakes its head. It takes its cloak off and begins to rip lines off while using mending to repair most of the damage from loose threads and such. "Can't let you use something nice on me. Isn't right." They said and looked up, pointing a wing at them "Need nice stuff."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
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?"
"That's not very polite. I know what I saw. I see em' every day." Some of the chains start to rattle. "Oh dear... we're in it now." He starts backing toward a hole in the burned wall. "I think ya woke the scarecrows... they can smell hostility, ya know?"
"I dont care." he then says something into his headset, more troopers soon appear.
"Please, I..." he suddenly collapses to the floor, clutching his ears as though hearing an incredibly loud cacophany. "It... will... all... be... fine..." he strains. The chains start to burst and fall to the floor. The scarecrows aren't moving.
"What the..."
He stands up, waving his fists around as if trying to drive off the crows. "Shut up, dang it! They're not gonna hurt us! They're just... ARGH!!" He clutches his head. Space seems to be distorting. For a split second, even through truesight, in place of a farmer in a shed, they see a massive, burning scarecrow, crucified on a flaming mound of wreckage and corpses and surrounded by crows. The head tilts to the side. It looks like it's about to speak, but then the vision is over, and the farmer is lying on the floor. "T-the fear in me... is more... than anything you can make..."
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.
"C'mon, I got a chair. You can sit down while I find some bandages. What's your name, son? I'm Gregor."
"Izazel." They said and sat down on the ground rather than the chair. They sweep a wing over it, like they were dusting it off for Gregor.
"That's a nice name." He starts searching his toolbox. "It sounds like 'scapegoat' in celestial. Did ya know that?" He stops searching and places his hands on his hips. "You know, goldarnit, I'm out of bandages." He rips some strips off of his shirt and begins to wrap them around Izazel's knees.
Izazel quickly squirms away from him and shakes their head fast. "Don't rip nice shirt. Bad bad." They say and take the strips, casting mending on them. "I will use an old cloak of mine."
"Well... if it makes you more comfortable. I can buy more shirts. You can't buy another Izazel, ya know? You're much more important than any cloth. Even the crows agree with me this time."
Izazel still shakes its head. It takes its cloak off and begins to rip lines off while using mending to repair most of the damage from loose threads and such. "Can't let you use something nice on me. Isn't right." They said and looked up, pointing a wing at them "Need nice stuff."
He chuckles. "You just met me. You really care about people, don't you?" He takes the strips of the cloak and uses them as bandages. "There. You might want to rest a bit. I'd like you to use the chair, so that the crows can't sit on it. Would that be okay with you?"
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.
"C'mon, I got a chair. You can sit down while I find some bandages. What's your name, son? I'm Gregor."
"Izazel." They said and sat down on the ground rather than the chair. They sweep a wing over it, like they were dusting it off for Gregor.
"That's a nice name." He starts searching his toolbox. "It sounds like 'scapegoat' in celestial. Did ya know that?" He stops searching and places his hands on his hips. "You know, goldarnit, I'm out of bandages." He rips some strips off of his shirt and begins to wrap them around Izazel's knees.
Izazel quickly squirms away from him and shakes their head fast. "Don't rip nice shirt. Bad bad." They say and take the strips, casting mending on them. "I will use an old cloak of mine."
"Well... if it makes you more comfortable. I can buy more shirts. You can't buy another Izazel, ya know? You're much more important than any cloth. Even the crows agree with me this time."
Izazel still shakes its head. It takes its cloak off and begins to rip lines off while using mending to repair most of the damage from loose threads and such. "Can't let you use something nice on me. Isn't right." They said and looked up, pointing a wing at them "Need nice stuff."
He chuckles. "You just met me. You really care about people, don't you?" He takes the strips of the cloak and uses them as bandages. "There. You might want to rest a bit. I'd like you to use the chair, so that the crows can't sit on it. Would that be okay with you?"
"Empathy Disorder... Feel too much." Izazel said and shrugged, trying to tie a good knot. They glances at the chair and slowly moves over to it, gently touching it like it might break if they do sit on it.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
He chuckles. "You just met me. You really care about people, don't you?" He takes the strips of the cloak and uses them as bandages. "There. You might want to rest a bit. I'd like you to use the chair, so that the crows can't sit on it. Would that be okay with you?"
"Empathy Disorder... Feel too much." Izazel said and shrugged, trying to tie a good knot. They glances at the chair and slowly moves over to it, gently touching it like it might break if they do sit on it.
"Don't worry, it's sturdy. Checked it myself. Now, how did you get here? Were you running from the guys in white?"
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.
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"Izazel." They said and sat down on the ground rather than the chair. They sweep a wing over it, like they were dusting it off for Gregor.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
He finds a shield has materialized in the way. He smiles "Come now, Your better than that."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"That's not very polite. I know what I saw. I see em' every day." Some of the chains start to rattle. "Oh dear... we're in it now." He starts backing toward a hole in the burned wall. "I think ya woke the scarecrows... they can smell hostility, ya know?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He continues to attack them, swinging over and over. During this rampage his mask has fallen off to show a young man, face contorted with rage
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"I dont care." he then says something into his headset, more troopers soon appear.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Richard chuckles and lifts a brow "Your forgot something there."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"That's a nice name." He starts searching his toolbox. "It sounds like 'scapegoat' in celestial. Did ya know that?" He stops searching and places his hands on his hips. "You know, goldarnit, I'm out of bandages." He rips some strips off of his shirt and begins to wrap them around Izazel's knees.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"I DONT CARE!" he continues to rage, objects exploding
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
"Please, I..." he suddenly collapses to the floor, clutching his ears as though hearing an incredibly loud cacophany. "It... will... all... be... fine..." he strains. The chains start to burst and fall to the floor. The scarecrows aren't moving.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Izazel quickly squirms away from him and shakes their head fast. "Don't rip nice shirt. Bad bad." They say and take the strips, casting mending on them. "I will use an old cloak of mine."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"What the..."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*good morning friends!*
"Well... if it makes you more comfortable. I can buy more shirts. You can't buy another Izazel, ya know? You're much more important than any cloth. Even the crows agree with me this time."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Richard grabs him by the shoulders suddenly as his skin has gained a certain shinner appearance, He forces him to the ground as his face adopts a look of seriousness. "You will stop."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
Izazel still shakes its head. It takes its cloak off and begins to rip lines off while using mending to repair most of the damage from loose threads and such. "Can't let you use something nice on me. Isn't right." They said and looked up, pointing a wing at them "Need nice stuff."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
He stands up, waving his fists around as if trying to drive off the crows. "Shut up, dang it! They're not gonna hurt us! They're just... ARGH!!" He clutches his head. Space seems to be distorting. For a split second, even through truesight, in place of a farmer in a shed, they see a massive, burning scarecrow, crucified on a flaming mound of wreckage and corpses and surrounded by crows. The head tilts to the side. It looks like it's about to speak, but then the vision is over, and the farmer is lying on the floor. "T-the fear in me... is more... than anything you can make..."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The rosebush is hiking up a mountain, looking for something.
Lycosidos is running his shop.
Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" >:3
"Honk."
He chuckles. "You just met me. You really care about people, don't you?" He takes the strips of the cloak and uses them as bandages. "There. You might want to rest a bit. I'd like you to use the chair, so that the crows can't sit on it. Would that be okay with you?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Empathy Disorder... Feel too much." Izazel said and shrugged, trying to tie a good knot. They glances at the chair and slowly moves over to it, gently touching it like it might break if they do sit on it.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"Don't worry, it's sturdy. Checked it myself. Now, how did you get here? Were you running from the guys in white?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.