The ground shakes a bit, leaving tremors for miles. It seems to rend and tear itself open suddenly, the smell of sulfur fouling the air. A man, who appears to be in his late 40's climbs out, brushing the dirt and worms from himself. He has short brown hair, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes are the color of fire, sparkling orange and just as destructive. He wears a plain white button up, a brown vest, a bolo tied made from the eye of a Pit Fiend, a pair of simple breeches, a pair of boots, and a long brown trench coat.
He fixes his hair, humming idly while surveying the scene. For those who stare at him a second longer, they notice his face seems to... Drip almost. The pale skin turning to an icky black sludge before he quickly fixes it.
The ground shakes a bit, leaving tremors for miles. It seems to rend and tear itself open suddenly, the smell of sulfur fouling the air. A man, who appears to be in his late 40's climbs out, brushing the dirt and worms from himself. He has short brown hair, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes are the color of fire, sparkling orange and just as destructive. He wears a plain white button up, a brown vest, a bolo tied made from the eye of a Pit Fiend, a pair of simple breeches, a pair of boots, and a long brown trench coat.
He fixes his hair, humming idly while surveying the scene. For those who stare at him a second longer, they notice his face seems to... Drip almost. The pale skin turning to an icky black sludge before he quickly fixes it.
The shrinekeeper pauses, looks around for a moment, confused, then goes back to wandering around town
The ground shakes a bit, leaving tremors for miles. It seems to rend and tear itself open suddenly, the smell of sulfur fouling the air. A man, who appears to be in his late 40's climbs out, brushing the dirt and worms from himself. He has short brown hair, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes are the color of fire, sparkling orange and just as destructive. He wears a plain white button up, a brown vest, a bolo tied made from the eye of a Pit Fiend, a pair of simple breeches, a pair of boots, and a long brown trench coat.
He fixes his hair, humming idly while surveying the scene. For those who stare at him a second longer, they notice his face seems to... Drip almost. The pale skin turning to an icky black sludge before he quickly fixes it.
The hunchback approaches, seemingly unfazed by the fact that this man is probably a fiend. He reaches out and straightens out the bolo with his strange, thin, biomechanical hands. "I like your tie."
The ground shakes a bit, leaving tremors for miles. It seems to rend and tear itself open suddenly, the smell of sulfur fouling the air. A man, who appears to be in his late 40's climbs out, brushing the dirt and worms from himself. He has short brown hair, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes are the color of fire, sparkling orange and just as destructive. He wears a plain white button up, a brown vest, a bolo tied made from the eye of a Pit Fiend, a pair of simple breeches, a pair of boots, and a long brown trench coat.
He fixes his hair, humming idly while surveying the scene. For those who stare at him a second longer, they notice his face seems to... Drip almost. The pale skin turning to an icky black sludge before he quickly fixes it.
The shrinekeeper pauses, looks around for a moment, confused, then goes back to wandering around town
Stroth snaps his head to the side and sniffs the air "My my! A cleric! And one of the Endurance God! How different in this day in age!" He grins and extends a hand "My name is Stroth Blackwood. Archmage. Pleasure to meet you."
The ground shakes a bit, leaving tremors for miles. It seems to rend and tear itself open suddenly, the smell of sulfur fouling the air. A man, who appears to be in his late 40's climbs out, brushing the dirt and worms from himself. He has short brown hair, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes are the color of fire, sparkling orange and just as destructive. He wears a plain white button up, a brown vest, a bolo tied made from the eye of a Pit Fiend, a pair of simple breeches, a pair of boots, and a long brown trench coat.
He fixes his hair, humming idly while surveying the scene. For those who stare at him a second longer, they notice his face seems to... Drip almost. The pale skin turning to an icky black sludge before he quickly fixes it.
The hunchback approaches, seemingly unfazed by the fact that this man is probably a fiend. He reaches out and straightens out the bolo with his strange, thin, biomechanical hands. "I like your tie."
Stroth tilts his head. He snaps his fingers and it is off his neck and now around the hunchbacks. "It belonged to Czalor. An rival of mine. He failed to make good on a duel so I took his eye." He said and grinned "You can have it, it looks better on you anyways."
Samuel feels awful and almost considers coming clean. He opens his mouth to say something, but it catches in his throat
Effrayer doesn't look up. "I'm fine if you don't want to be with me anymore, but I deserve an explanation. Is this because of your family? They don't want you dating a Gatorfolk anymore?"
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 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, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees (and hopefully more)
The ground shakes a bit, leaving tremors for miles. It seems to rend and tear itself open suddenly, the smell of sulfur fouling the air. A man, who appears to be in his late 40's climbs out, brushing the dirt and worms from himself. He has short brown hair, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes are the color of fire, sparkling orange and just as destructive. He wears a plain white button up, a brown vest, a bolo tied made from the eye of a Pit Fiend, a pair of simple breeches, a pair of boots, and a long brown trench coat.
He fixes his hair, humming idly while surveying the scene. For those who stare at him a second longer, they notice his face seems to... Drip almost. The pale skin turning to an icky black sludge before he quickly fixes it.
The hunchback approaches, seemingly unfazed by the fact that this man is probably a fiend. He reaches out and straightens out the bolo with his strange, thin, biomechanical hands. "I like your tie."
Stroth tilts his head. He snaps his fingers and it is off his neck and now around the hunchbacks. "It belonged to Czalor. An rival of mine. He failed to make good on a duel so I took his eye." He said and grinned "You can have it, it looks better on you anyways."
The hunchback takes it off and examines it closely. A little bit of electricity crackles from his fingertip, and the eye comes to life, looking around and adjusting to the light. The hunchback puts the tie back on. "Thank you very much. I wanted to get one for myself, but I never had the money to travel. Starving artists and all that."
The ground shakes a bit, leaving tremors for miles. It seems to rend and tear itself open suddenly, the smell of sulfur fouling the air. A man, who appears to be in his late 40's climbs out, brushing the dirt and worms from himself. He has short brown hair, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes are the color of fire, sparkling orange and just as destructive. He wears a plain white button up, a brown vest, a bolo tied made from the eye of a Pit Fiend, a pair of simple breeches, a pair of boots, and a long brown trench coat.
He fixes his hair, humming idly while surveying the scene. For those who stare at him a second longer, they notice his face seems to... Drip almost. The pale skin turning to an icky black sludge before he quickly fixes it.
The hunchback approaches, seemingly unfazed by the fact that this man is probably a fiend. He reaches out and straightens out the bolo with his strange, thin, biomechanical hands. "I like your tie."
Stroth tilts his head. He snaps his fingers and it is off his neck and now around the hunchbacks. "It belonged to Czalor. An rival of mine. He failed to make good on a duel so I took his eye." He said and grinned "You can have it, it looks better on you anyways."
The hunchback takes it off and examines it closely. A little bit of electricity crackles from his fingertip, and the eye comes to life, looking around and adjusting to the light. The hunchback puts the tie back on. "Thank you very much. I wanted to get one for myself, but I never had the money to travel. Starving artists and all that."
"Everyone is an artist but we all have different mediums. Tell me, what is it that you work upon? I'm interested to hear it." He said and sat on the ground, gesturing for him to sit with him.
"No, it has nothing to do with-" He sighs. "Let me ask you something hypothetically. If I was to die by someone else's hand, would you be angry?"
"Why are you bringing this up now?"
Deception: 21
"Anyway, because you asked, it would depend on the situation. I would be mad, of course, but if it were say, an accident, I'm sure I could forgive the person with enough time."
"No, it has nothing to do with-" He sighs. "Let me ask you something hypothetically. If I was to die by someone else's hand, would you be angry?"
"Why are you bringing this up now?"
Deception: 29
"Anyway, because you asked, it would depend on the situation. I would be mad, of course, but if it were say, an accident, I'm sure I could forgive the person with enough time."
"You would?!" he says loudly, "I mean... yeah sure."
The hunchback takes it off and examines it closely. A little bit of electricity crackles from his fingertip, and the eye comes to life, looking around and adjusting to the light. The hunchback puts the tie back on. "Thank you very much. I wanted to get one for myself, but I never had the money to travel. Starving artists and all that."
"Everyone is an artist but we all have different mediums. Tell me, what is it that you work upon? I'm interested to hear it." He said and sat on the ground, gesturing for him to sit with him.
The hunchback sits down and lifts up his hood, revealing a skull-like face made of organic machinery. It serves the function of a face, and is clearly made with artistry in mind, but actual expression is... limited, to say the least. It was designed to be pleasing and hold the senses, but not in the way a normal face does.
"Myself, mostly. Sometimes I get offers from others to work on them, so I carry extra parts with me."
"Anyway, because you asked, it would depend on the situation. I would be mad, of course, but if it were say, an accident, I'm sure I could forgive the person with enough time."
"You would?!" he says loudly, "I mean... yeah sure."
"I'm sorry if that offends you, but I forgiveness is a part of the lifestyle I'm trying to make for myself. I don't want to blame people for things they didn't mean to do."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
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The ground shakes a bit, leaving tremors for miles. It seems to rend and tear itself open suddenly, the smell of sulfur fouling the air. A man, who appears to be in his late 40's climbs out, brushing the dirt and worms from himself. He has short brown hair, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes are the color of fire, sparkling orange and just as destructive. He wears a plain white button up, a brown vest, a bolo tied made from the eye of a Pit Fiend, a pair of simple breeches, a pair of boots, and a long brown trench coat.
He fixes his hair, humming idly while surveying the scene. For those who stare at him a second longer, they notice his face seems to... Drip almost. The pale skin turning to an icky black sludge before he quickly fixes it.
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
Samuel avoids looking at him.
*I might do a thing*
His head seems to snap to the other side, his pupils turning from round to cat-like sits. He smiles "Do you need something mate?" He asks
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
*not him, Effrayer.*
The shrinekeeper pauses, looks around for a moment, confused, then goes back to wandering around town
The hunchback approaches, seemingly unfazed by the fact that this man is probably a fiend. He reaches out and straightens out the bolo with his strange, thin, biomechanical hands. "I like your tie."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Effrayer doesn't look at Samuel either.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Samuel feels awful and almost considers coming clean. He opens his mouth to say something, but it catches in his throat
Stroth snaps his head to the side and sniffs the air "My my! A cleric! And one of the Endurance God! How different in this day in age!" He grins and extends a hand "My name is Stroth Blackwood. Archmage. Pleasure to meet you."
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
Stroth tilts his head. He snaps his fingers and it is off his neck and now around the hunchbacks. "It belonged to Czalor. An rival of mine. He failed to make good on a duel so I took his eye." He said and grinned "You can have it, it looks better on you anyways."
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
Effrayer doesn't look up. "I'm fine if you don't want to be with me anymore, but I deserve an explanation. Is this because of your family? They don't want you dating a Gatorfolk anymore?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"No, it has nothing to do with-" He sighs. "Let me ask you something hypothetically. If I was to die by someone else's hand, would you be angry?"
*hi*
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
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, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees (and hopefully more)
The hunchback takes it off and examines it closely. A little bit of electricity crackles from his fingertip, and the eye comes to life, looking around and adjusting to the light. The hunchback puts the tie back on. "Thank you very much. I wanted to get one for myself, but I never had the money to travel. Starving artists and all that."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Everyone is an artist but we all have different mediums. Tell me, what is it that you work upon? I'm interested to hear it." He said and sat on the ground, gesturing for him to sit with him.
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
"Why are you bringing this up now?"
Deception: 21
"Anyway, because you asked, it would depend on the situation. I would be mad, of course, but if it were say, an accident, I'm sure I could forgive the person with enough time."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"You would?!" he says loudly, "I mean... yeah sure."
The hunchback sits down and lifts up his hood, revealing a skull-like face made of organic machinery. It serves the function of a face, and is clearly made with artistry in mind, but actual expression is... limited, to say the least. It was designed to be pleasing and hold the senses, but not in the way a normal face does.
"Myself, mostly. Sometimes I get offers from others to work on them, so I carry extra parts with me."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"I'm sorry if that offends you, but I forgiveness is a part of the lifestyle I'm trying to make for myself. I don't want to blame people for things they didn't mean to do."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels