*Essentially nobody can be let in without permission from the guards. Wills require permission from a member of the Mythos itself. People can leave at any time, though. Cog put 5,000 power points into it, so if one were to spend that much to break it then it would be gone (although he has an alarm system telling him when and where it's being attacked). A power-pointless ward only forbids unauthorized access for non-wills. The members of the Mythos are always allowed for obvious reasons, unless if Cog himself kicks them out of the authorized people, in which case they're still in but can't get back in the moment they're out.*
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
*Essentially nobody can be let in without permission from the guards. Wills require permission from a member of the Mythos itself. People can leave at any time, though. Cog put 5,000 power points into it, so if one were to spend that much to break it then it would be gone (although he has an alarm system telling him when and where it's being attacked). A power-pointless ward only forbids unauthorized access for non-wills. The members of the Mythos are always allowed for obvious reasons, unless if Cog himself kicks them out of the authorized people, in which case they're still in but can't get back in the moment they're out.*
*could Savut use her power points to strengthen it?*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Essentially nobody can be let in without permission from the guards. Wills require permission from a member of the Mythos itself. People can leave at any time, though. Cog put 5,000 power points into it, so if one were to spend that much to break it then it would be gone (although he has an alarm system telling him when and where it's being attacked). A power-pointless ward only forbids unauthorized access for non-wills. The members of the Mythos are always allowed for obvious reasons, unless if Cog himself kicks them out of the authorized people, in which case they're still in but can't get back in the moment they're out.*
*could Savut use her power points to strengthen it?*
*Yes. Although it wouldn't stop Cog from entering since he's the original creator of them.*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Essentially nobody can be let in without permission from the guards. Wills require permission from a member of the Mythos itself. People can leave at any time, though. Cog put 5,000 power points into it, so if one were to spend that much to break it then it would be gone (although he has an alarm system telling him when and where it's being attacked). A power-pointless ward only forbids unauthorized access for non-wills. The members of the Mythos are always allowed for obvious reasons, unless if Cog himself kicks them out of the authorized people, in which case they're still in but can't get back in the moment they're out.*
*could Savut use her power points to strengthen it?*
*Yes. Although it wouldn't stop Cog from entering since he's the original creator of them.*
*then we’ll just have to work out another way to keep him out >:)*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
The vines twist and squirm like a thousand toothed tentacles, lifting the skull from your hand. It rises into the air and stares down at you with thorn weeping eyes, “I’m sorry, but you ain’t gonna use me for your twisted creations.”
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
The vines twist and squirm like a thousand toothed tentacles, lifting the skull from your hand. It rises into the air and stares down at you with thorn weeping eyes, “I’m sorry, but you ain’t gonna use me for your twisted creations.”
“Oh wait shoot, you’re that guy, right? The desert guy?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
The vines twist and squirm like a thousand toothed tentacles, lifting the skull from your hand. It rises into the air and stares down at you with thorn weeping eyes, “I’m sorry, but you ain’t gonna use me for your twisted creations.”
“Oh wait shoot, you’re that guy, right? The desert guy?”
The vines curl and twist as the god shifts his weight, “Yes, I am indeed the desert god. You’ve heard of me? Nothing bad I hope.”
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
The vines twist and squirm like a thousand toothed tentacles, lifting the skull from your hand. It rises into the air and stares down at you with thorn weeping eyes, “I’m sorry, but you ain’t gonna use me for your twisted creations.”
“Oh wait shoot, you’re that guy, right? The desert guy?”
The vines curl and twist as the god shifts his weight, “Yes, I am indeed the desert god. You’ve heard of me? Nothing bad I hope.”
“Nah, that’s it. Desert man exists somewhere. That’s the limit of my information.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
The Kingdom of Duality is now roughly several hundred feet into the air and still rising. The Fundamental Isles has begun to come together with it, shifting the landscape while Mephilia and Volumdremaak use their powers to protect their subject and structures. Xezithic is still circling around the now floating Kingdom Island, using its power to help combine the two realms and expanding it.
The Mirthril Dragon is waiting outside of Kag's fortress, nervous about the demons and also the UNKNOWABLE being here as well.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
The vines twist and squirm like a thousand toothed tentacles, lifting the skull from your hand. It rises into the air and stares down at you with thorn weeping eyes, “I’m sorry, but you ain’t gonna use me for your twisted creations.”
“Oh wait shoot, you’re that guy, right? The desert guy?”
The vines curl and twist as the god shifts his weight, “Yes, I am indeed the desert god. You’ve heard of me? Nothing bad I hope.”
“Nah, that’s it. Desert man exists somewhere. That’s the limit of my information.”
“Well, he exists right here before you now. It’s not exactly where I want to be existing but we can’t always have our druthers.”
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
The vines twist and squirm like a thousand toothed tentacles, lifting the skull from your hand. It rises into the air and stares down at you with thorn weeping eyes, “I’m sorry, but you ain’t gonna use me for your twisted creations.”
“Oh wait shoot, you’re that guy, right? The desert guy?”
The vines curl and twist as the god shifts his weight, “Yes, I am indeed the desert god. You’ve heard of me? Nothing bad I hope.”
“Nah, that’s it. Desert man exists somewhere. That’s the limit of my information.”
“Well, he exists right here before you now. It’s not exactly where I want to be existing but we can’t always have our druthers.”
“Oh. You have a very roundabout way of speaking, you know.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
A thick patch of briars and thornweeds as sprung up in the underworld.
Balatro, who is talking his morning stroll, sees the odd floral presence and runs over to it to investigate.
The air surrounding the patch is dry and the thorns are the needle thin, pain drinking, flesh licking sort that grow along arching red stalks. When you peer inside the tangle of vegetable pain you see the stark white of a skull. The skull of a longhorn cow. The vines poor out of the skulls eye sockets like tears and out of its mouth like vomit and the wrap around the horns like a gentle, stabbing embrace.
“Huh. That’s disconcerting. But who would I be if I passed on free bones?” He reaches down to pick up the skull.
*Can I have a description of your character?*
Your hand reaches through the blood thirsty stalks. As you lift the skull, the vines twitch and tremble, writhing like spine hided serpents. A hot dry breath slides out of the skulls mouth.
*human skeleton in orange-and-green motley with cap and bells and marrote topped with a silver beholder figurehead.*
“That’s also disconcerting. But hey, it’ll just make a cooler ostyluth!”
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
The vines twist and squirm like a thousand toothed tentacles, lifting the skull from your hand. It rises into the air and stares down at you with thorn weeping eyes, “I’m sorry, but you ain’t gonna use me for your twisted creations.”
“Oh wait shoot, you’re that guy, right? The desert guy?”
The vines curl and twist as the god shifts his weight, “Yes, I am indeed the desert god. You’ve heard of me? Nothing bad I hope.”
“Nah, that’s it. Desert man exists somewhere. That’s the limit of my information.”
“Well, he exists right here before you now. It’s not exactly where I want to be existing but we can’t always have our druthers.”
“Oh. You have a very roundabout way of speaking, you know.”
“Do I? I reckon my tongue likes to wander about as much as my feet.”
*Essentially nobody can be let in without permission from the guards. Wills require permission from a member of the Mythos itself. People can leave at any time, though. Cog put 5,000 power points into it, so if one were to spend that much to break it then it would be gone (although he has an alarm system telling him when and where it's being attacked). A power-pointless ward only forbids unauthorized access for non-wills. The members of the Mythos are always allowed for obvious reasons, unless if Cog himself kicks them out of the authorized people, in which case they're still in but can't get back in the moment they're out.*
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
A mysterious link of chain... (Extended signature). PRAISE JEFF THE EVIL ROOMBA! REALLY cool video.
One of the Warlock Patrons on the forums. Low, low price of your soul, your firstborn child and your liver!
Titles: The Echoing Story Spewer from Drummer, the Endless Maws from Isis, the Mad Murderer from PJ
Another dry rattle washes out from the skull. “Ostyluth?”
*could Savut use her power points to strengthen it?*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Yes. Although it wouldn't stop Cog from entering since he's the original creator of them.*
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
A mysterious link of chain... (Extended signature). PRAISE JEFF THE EVIL ROOMBA! REALLY cool video.
One of the Warlock Patrons on the forums. Low, low price of your soul, your firstborn child and your liver!
Titles: The Echoing Story Spewer from Drummer, the Endless Maws from Isis, the Mad Murderer from PJ
“Yeah? They’re bone devils. I’ve been making them lately.”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*then we’ll just have to work out another way to keep him out >:)*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
The vines twist and squirm like a thousand toothed tentacles, lifting the skull from your hand. It rises into the air and stares down at you with thorn weeping eyes, “I’m sorry, but you ain’t gonna use me for your twisted creations.”
*most devils are the souls of the dead manifested
So I'm imagining most having a 'natural devil' note
And then 'Made by Balatro lol'*
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
A mysterious link of chain... (Extended signature). PRAISE JEFF THE EVIL ROOMBA! REALLY cool video.
One of the Warlock Patrons on the forums. Low, low price of your soul, your firstborn child and your liver!
Titles: The Echoing Story Spewer from Drummer, the Endless Maws from Isis, the Mad Murderer from PJ
“Oh wait shoot, you’re that guy, right? The desert guy?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*they all have a beholder carved into their right shoulderblade*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Ah, I see*
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
A mysterious link of chain... (Extended signature). PRAISE JEFF THE EVIL ROOMBA! REALLY cool video.
One of the Warlock Patrons on the forums. Low, low price of your soul, your firstborn child and your liver!
Titles: The Echoing Story Spewer from Drummer, the Endless Maws from Isis, the Mad Murderer from PJ
*so how might cog react to the information about the unseen incursion?*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
The vines curl and twist as the god shifts his weight, “Yes, I am indeed the desert god. You’ve heard of me? Nothing bad I hope.”
*✨ Roleplay time ✨*
Cog is waiting for Kagorax at the tower of the demon.
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
A mysterious link of chain... (Extended signature). PRAISE JEFF THE EVIL ROOMBA! REALLY cool video.
One of the Warlock Patrons on the forums. Low, low price of your soul, your firstborn child and your liver!
Titles: The Echoing Story Spewer from Drummer, the Endless Maws from Isis, the Mad Murderer from PJ
“Nah, that’s it. Desert man exists somewhere. That’s the limit of my information.”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
The Kingdom of Duality is now roughly several hundred feet into the air and still rising. The Fundamental Isles has begun to come together with it, shifting the landscape while Mephilia and Volumdremaak use their powers to protect their subject and structures. Xezithic is still circling around the now floating Kingdom Island, using its power to help combine the two realms and expanding it.
The Mirthril Dragon is waiting outside of Kag's fortress, nervous about the demons and also the UNKNOWABLE being here as well.
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
Characters for Tenebris Sine Fine
RoughCoronet's Greater Wills
*i thought they already met and went inside the tower*
The UNKNOWABLE is before both of them, rasping about how It is a throat, the Dread Unity is coming, and the Unseen World will devour this reality.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
“Well, he exists right here before you now. It’s not exactly where I want to be existing but we can’t always have our druthers.”
“Oh. You have a very roundabout way of speaking, you know.”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
“Do I? I reckon my tongue likes to wander about as much as my feet.”