The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Recently, a black gem has been unearthed by followers of Mephilia. It’s absurdly reflective, but simultaneously somehow dark as the night.
Eris is back at the Grey Peaks again, technically here to gather intel on the whereabouts of the Mourn family, though also hoping to maybe find Perseus again.
Orchid is overseeing the Arena of Thorns, watching the carnage between her creations and those of other Wills with sadistic glee.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
She thinks for a moment, before they speak again, sounding defeated. "...I mean, from a logical angle... I suppose tolerating your jokes and nicknames wouldn't be as bad as not existing."
"Good for you, you understand the logic, unfortunately, I don't care anymore. I'll leave you a place to stay, but there's no point giving you nicknames. You can cheer, you don't have to tolerate my jokes anymore!" He walks past them, his voice cold "Good job losing your only friend. Really." He goes to his couch, sitting down there, he turns on his console and begins to play silently.
She thinks for a moment, before they speak again, sounding defeated. "...I mean, from a logical angle... I suppose tolerating your jokes and nicknames wouldn't be as bad as not existing."
"Good for you, you understand the logic, unfortunately, I don't care anymore. I'll leave you a place to stay, but there's no point giving you nicknames. You can cheer, you don't have to tolerate my jokes anymore!" He walks past them, his voice cold "Good job losing your only friend. Really." He goes to his couch, sitting down there, he turns on his console and begins to play silently.
*If you want to continue?*
She is silent, standing there, feeling conflicted. 'Why does this feel... bad? I should be happy.' she thinks to herself. 'I've finally gotten him to stop. The one person I despise the most wants nothing to do with me anymore. I defeated him. I won...'
'...so why doesn't it feel like I won?'
She looks back at him for a moment, with frustration and sadness and what she doesn't want to admit is guilt, and leaves the room, going back to reading notes on his experiments.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Eris is back at the Grey Peaks again, technically here to gather intel on the whereabouts of the Mourn family, though also hoping to maybe find Perseus again.
Orchid is overseeing the Arena of Thorns, watching the carnage between her creations and those of other Wills with sadistic glee.
*unfortunately, i don’t feel like playing Perseus currently, sorry!*
an old woman watches one of the fights, dressed in a dirty, tattered old brown dress, stitched back together with various materials over the years. She has a walking stick, overgrown with fungi and mushrooms, her hair messy, with little twigs and branches stuck in it. She has a satchel full of jars and vials of half dead plant and animal specimens. She has a permanent frown on her face, though through her eyes Orchid could see that she’s enjoying the fights.
She thinks for a moment, before they speak again, sounding defeated. "...I mean, from a logical angle... I suppose tolerating your jokes and nicknames wouldn't be as bad as not existing."
"Good for you, you understand the logic, unfortunately, I don't care anymore. I'll leave you a place to stay, but there's no point giving you nicknames. You can cheer, you don't have to tolerate my jokes anymore!" He walks past them, his voice cold "Good job losing your only friend. Really." He goes to his couch, sitting down there, he turns on his console and begins to play silently.
*If you want to continue?*
She is silent, standing there, feeling conflicted. 'Why does this feel... bad? I should be happy.' she thinks to herself. 'I've finally gotten him to stop. The one person I despise the most wants nothing to do with me anymore. I defeated him. I won...'
'...so why doesn't it feel like I won?'
She looks back at him for a moment, with frustration and sadness and what she doesn't want to admit is guilt, and leaves the room, going back to reading notes on his experiments.
Included in his notes are numerous things, from ways to help mortals grow to never need wills again, to ways to create growth through conflict without requiring people’s lives to be lost. Happy Chaos in all regards is a madman, but he’s a genius too, and innovator. There are small scribbles about how these could help his friends, help the Fathomless with his stress, or help Sarah survive despite hating him.
The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
She’s mortal, as far as he can tell. Just really, really, really old. She merrily waltzes over to him, still carrying the sleeping child in the wicker basket.
as Sargassa continues singing, several more creatures surface with her: whales. In the distance, Anthony can see several lights, and the vague silhouettes of large ships, seven of them, sailing towards Sargassa. All of her 80 something eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see them coming.
The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
She’s mortal, as far as he can tell. Just really, really, really old. She merrily waltzes over to him, still carrying the sleeping child in the wicker basket.
as Sargassa continues singing, several more creatures surface with her: whales. In the distance, Anthony can see several lights, and the vague silhouettes of large ships, seven of them, sailing towards Sargassa. All of her 80 something eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see them coming.
He gives a smile, more kind and genuine than most he provides to any. He bows deeply before them, “Hello there, a pleasure to meet you, whoever you may be, I am Slayer.”
He does the only thing he really can do, in the silence of the ocean only fitted by the singing, he whispers a warning to them before climbing onto one of the ships with his trident in his hands, trying to sneak on.
Eris is back at the Grey Peaks again, technically here to gather intel on the whereabouts of the Mourn family, though also hoping to maybe find Perseus again.
Orchid is overseeing the Arena of Thorns, watching the carnage between her creations and those of other Wills with sadistic glee.
*unfortunately, i don’t feel like playing Perseus currently, sorry!*
an old woman watches one of the fights, dressed in a dirty, tattered old brown dress, stitched back together with various materials over the years. She has a walking stick, overgrown with fungi and mushrooms, her hair messy, with little twigs and branches stuck in it. She has a satchel full of jars and vials of half dead plant and animal specimens. She has a permanent frown on her face, though through her eyes Orchid could see that she’s enjoying the fights.
*That's perfectly fine with me! Perhaps another time when we're both ready!*
Orchid notices the old woman, seeming somewhat intrigued by the collection of specimens she carries, and sends one of her blights down through the arena seating to her, carrying the message that she is invited to speak to the Will of Thorns.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
She’s mortal, as far as he can tell. Just really, really, really old. She merrily waltzes over to him, still carrying the sleeping child in the wicker basket.
as Sargassa continues singing, several more creatures surface with her: whales. In the distance, Anthony can see several lights, and the vague silhouettes of large ships, seven of them, sailing towards Sargassa. All of her 80 something eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see them coming.
He gives a smile, more kind and genuine than most he provides to any. He bows deeply before them, “Hello there, a pleasure to meet you, whoever you may be, I am Slayer.”
He does the only thing he really can do, in the silence of the ocean only fitted by the singing, he whispers a warning to them before climbing onto one of the ships with his trident in his hands, trying to sneak on.
“A pleasure to meet you as well! My name isn’t important, but his is…” she says, gesturing to the sleeping baby, gently, ‘awwwww,’ing. “His name is Larian.”
she barely notices, only vaguely acknowledging it. Anthony climbs up onto the frontmost ship, quickly ducking behind a barrel. There are a dozen people on the top deck, maintaining things, steering, and keeping a lookout. They have special equipment, which seem to have been made for a specific, unheard of purpose: whaling.
Eris is back at the Grey Peaks again, technically here to gather intel on the whereabouts of the Mourn family, though also hoping to maybe find Perseus again.
Orchid is overseeing the Arena of Thorns, watching the carnage between her creations and those of other Wills with sadistic glee.
*unfortunately, i don’t feel like playing Perseus currently, sorry!*
an old woman watches one of the fights, dressed in a dirty, tattered old brown dress, stitched back together with various materials over the years. She has a walking stick, overgrown with fungi and mushrooms, her hair messy, with little twigs and branches stuck in it. She has a satchel full of jars and vials of half dead plant and animal specimens. She has a permanent frown on her face, though through her eyes Orchid could see that she’s enjoying the fights.
*That's perfectly fine with me! Perhaps another time when we're both ready!*
Orchid notices the old woman, seeming somewhat intrigued by the collection of specimens she carries, and sends one of her blights down through the arena seating to her, carrying the message that she is invited to speak to the Will of Thorns.
When she hears the message, she chuckles slightly, before getting up and slowly making her way up to the Will of Thorns. Wherever she walks, a trail of fungi sprout behind her.
The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
She’s mortal, as far as he can tell. Just really, really, really old. She merrily waltzes over to him, still carrying the sleeping child in the wicker basket.
as Sargassa continues singing, several more creatures surface with her: whales. In the distance, Anthony can see several lights, and the vague silhouettes of large ships, seven of them, sailing towards Sargassa. All of her 80 something eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see them coming.
He gives a smile, more kind and genuine than most he provides to any. He bows deeply before them, “Hello there, a pleasure to meet you, whoever you may be, I am Slayer.”
He does the only thing he really can do, in the silence of the ocean only fitted by the singing, he whispers a warning to them before climbing onto one of the ships with his trident in his hands, trying to sneak on.
“A pleasure to meet you as well! My name isn’t important, but his is…” she says, gesturing to the sleeping baby, gently, ‘awwwww,’ing. “His name is Larian.”
she barely notices, only vaguely acknowledging it. Anthony climbs up onto the frontmost ship, quickly ducking behind a barrel. There are a dozen people on the top deck, maintaining things, steering, and keeping a lookout. They have special equipment, which seem to have been made for a specific, unheard of purpose: whaling.
“Your name is just as important as any, though that is an opinion of someone just as relevant. Larian is a wonderful name, and this child seems to be a wonderful one indeed.” He says, holding out a finger to the baby.
He looks at the equipment curiously, but from what he can sense off of these workers, whatever they’re up to, Anthony doesn’t like it. And so, he begins silently disabling members of the crew, he wasn’t especially strong or fast before knowing Sargassa, but with all the time he’s spent swimming, and gaining divine blessing, he’s pretty decent.
The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
She’s mortal, as far as he can tell. Just really, really, really old. She merrily waltzes over to him, still carrying the sleeping child in the wicker basket.
as Sargassa continues singing, several more creatures surface with her: whales. In the distance, Anthony can see several lights, and the vague silhouettes of large ships, seven of them, sailing towards Sargassa. All of her 80 something eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see them coming.
He gives a smile, more kind and genuine than most he provides to any. He bows deeply before them, “Hello there, a pleasure to meet you, whoever you may be, I am Slayer.”
He does the only thing he really can do, in the silence of the ocean only fitted by the singing, he whispers a warning to them before climbing onto one of the ships with his trident in his hands, trying to sneak on.
“A pleasure to meet you as well! My name isn’t important, but his is…” she says, gesturing to the sleeping baby, gently, ‘awwwww,’ing. “His name is Larian.”
she barely notices, only vaguely acknowledging it. Anthony climbs up onto the frontmost ship, quickly ducking behind a barrel. There are a dozen people on the top deck, maintaining things, steering, and keeping a lookout. They have special equipment, which seem to have been made for a specific, unheard of purpose: whaling.
“Your name is just as important as any, though that is an opinion of someone just as relevant. Larian is a wonderful name, and this child seems to be a wonderful one indeed.” He says, holding out a finger to the baby.
He looks at the equipment curiously, but from what he can sense off of these workers, whatever they’re up to, Anthony doesn’t like it. And so, he begins silently disabling members of the crew, he wasn’t especially strong or fast before knowing Sargassa, but with all the time he’s spent swimming, and gaining divine blessing, he’s pretty decent.
The infant subconsciously reaches out a hand to grab the finger. The old woman chuckles gleefully. “He’s young, but he’s getting more and more active by the day! Soon enough, these old bones won’t be able to keep up with him…” she chuckles again.
he manages to take out about half of them before someone notices something is up. He calls to the first mate, who comes up from the bottom deck with four more people in tow, looking around suspiciously.
Eris is back at the Grey Peaks again, technically here to gather intel on the whereabouts of the Mourn family, though also hoping to maybe find Perseus again.
Orchid is overseeing the Arena of Thorns, watching the carnage between her creations and those of other Wills with sadistic glee.
*unfortunately, i don’t feel like playing Perseus currently, sorry!*
an old woman watches one of the fights, dressed in a dirty, tattered old brown dress, stitched back together with various materials over the years. She has a walking stick, overgrown with fungi and mushrooms, her hair messy, with little twigs and branches stuck in it. She has a satchel full of jars and vials of half dead plant and animal specimens. She has a permanent frown on her face, though through her eyes Orchid could see that she’s enjoying the fights.
*That's perfectly fine with me! Perhaps another time when we're both ready!*
Orchid notices the old woman, seeming somewhat intrigued by the collection of specimens she carries, and sends one of her blights down through the arena seating to her, carrying the message that she is invited to speak to the Will of Thorns.
When she hears the message, she chuckles slightly, before getting up and slowly making her way up to the Will of Thorns. Wherever she walks, a trail of fungi sprout behind her.
Orchid watches her with curiosity as she follows the blight past a pair of doors made of brambles and up numerous flights of amber stairs, leading them to the high-up viewing platform where the Verdant Pestilence watches the battles rage on.
"Greetings." They say to her once she arrives, a wide grin on their face.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Eris is back at the Grey Peaks again, technically here to gather intel on the whereabouts of the Mourn family, though also hoping to maybe find Perseus again.
Orchid is overseeing the Arena of Thorns, watching the carnage between her creations and those of other Wills with sadistic glee.
*unfortunately, i don’t feel like playing Perseus currently, sorry!*
an old woman watches one of the fights, dressed in a dirty, tattered old brown dress, stitched back together with various materials over the years. She has a walking stick, overgrown with fungi and mushrooms, her hair messy, with little twigs and branches stuck in it. She has a satchel full of jars and vials of half dead plant and animal specimens. She has a permanent frown on her face, though through her eyes Orchid could see that she’s enjoying the fights.
*That's perfectly fine with me! Perhaps another time when we're both ready!*
Orchid notices the old woman, seeming somewhat intrigued by the collection of specimens she carries, and sends one of her blights down through the arena seating to her, carrying the message that she is invited to speak to the Will of Thorns.
When she hears the message, she chuckles slightly, before getting up and slowly making her way up to the Will of Thorns. Wherever she walks, a trail of fungi sprout behind her.
Orchid watches her with curiosity as she follows the blight past a pair of doors made of brambles and up numerous flights of amber stairs, leading them to the high-up viewing platform where the Verdant Pestilence watches the battles rage on.
"Greetings." They say to her once she arrives, a wide grin on their face.
“I’ve always hoped to one day meet you, the mastermind behind the amber marsh…” she does a slight bow, now grinning as well. She seems... Giddy to meet Orchid, which probably isn’t how most people would react.
The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
She’s mortal, as far as he can tell. Just really, really, really old. She merrily waltzes over to him, still carrying the sleeping child in the wicker basket.
as Sargassa continues singing, several more creatures surface with her: whales. In the distance, Anthony can see several lights, and the vague silhouettes of large ships, seven of them, sailing towards Sargassa. All of her 80 something eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see them coming.
He gives a smile, more kind and genuine than most he provides to any. He bows deeply before them, “Hello there, a pleasure to meet you, whoever you may be, I am Slayer.”
He does the only thing he really can do, in the silence of the ocean only fitted by the singing, he whispers a warning to them before climbing onto one of the ships with his trident in his hands, trying to sneak on.
“A pleasure to meet you as well! My name isn’t important, but his is…” she says, gesturing to the sleeping baby, gently, ‘awwwww,’ing. “His name is Larian.”
she barely notices, only vaguely acknowledging it. Anthony climbs up onto the frontmost ship, quickly ducking behind a barrel. There are a dozen people on the top deck, maintaining things, steering, and keeping a lookout. They have special equipment, which seem to have been made for a specific, unheard of purpose: whaling.
“Your name is just as important as any, though that is an opinion of someone just as relevant. Larian is a wonderful name, and this child seems to be a wonderful one indeed.” He says, holding out a finger to the baby.
He looks at the equipment curiously, but from what he can sense off of these workers, whatever they’re up to, Anthony doesn’t like it. And so, he begins silently disabling members of the crew, he wasn’t especially strong or fast before knowing Sargassa, but with all the time he’s spent swimming, and gaining divine blessing, he’s pretty decent.
The infant subconsciously reaches out a hand to grab the finger. The old woman chuckles gleefully. “He’s young, but he’s getting more and more active by the day! Soon enough, these old bones won’t be able to keep up with him…” she chuckles again.
he manages to take out about half of them before someone notices something is up. He calls to the first mate, who comes up from the bottom deck with four more people in tow, looking around suspiciously.
He smiles at that, playing with the child’s hand softly, making sure not to poke or harm them in the slightest “Yet that is the greatest part of growing old is it not? Seeing those you’ve cared for fulfill the things you know they were always capable of.”
He disappears back into the shadows, he made sure not to kill anyone, just popping open barrels and sticking people inside. When anyone gets close, he evens his breathing until they pass, taking out the first mate when he gets the chance.
She thinks for a moment, before they speak again, sounding defeated. "...I mean, from a logical angle... I suppose tolerating your jokes and nicknames wouldn't be as bad as not existing."
"Good for you, you understand the logic, unfortunately, I don't care anymore. I'll leave you a place to stay, but there's no point giving you nicknames. You can cheer, you don't have to tolerate my jokes anymore!" He walks past them, his voice cold "Good job losing your only friend. Really." He goes to his couch, sitting down there, he turns on his console and begins to play silently.
*If you want to continue?*
She is silent, standing there, feeling conflicted. 'Why does this feel... bad? I should be happy.' she thinks to herself. 'I've finally gotten him to stop. The one person I despise the most wants nothing to do with me anymore. I defeated him. I won...'
'...so why doesn't it feel like I won?'
She looks back at him for a moment, with frustration and sadness and what she doesn't want to admit is guilt, and leaves the room, going back to reading notes on his experiments.
Included in his notes are numerous things, from ways to help mortals grow to never need wills again, to ways to create growth through conflict without requiring people’s lives to be lost. Happy Chaos in all regards is a madman, but he’s a genius too, and innovator. There are small scribbles about how these could help his friends, help the Fathomless with his stress, or help Sarah survive despite hating him.
The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
She’s mortal, as far as he can tell. Just really, really, really old. She merrily waltzes over to him, still carrying the sleeping child in the wicker basket.
as Sargassa continues singing, several more creatures surface with her: whales. In the distance, Anthony can see several lights, and the vague silhouettes of large ships, seven of them, sailing towards Sargassa. All of her 80 something eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see them coming.
He gives a smile, more kind and genuine than most he provides to any. He bows deeply before them, “Hello there, a pleasure to meet you, whoever you may be, I am Slayer.”
He does the only thing he really can do, in the silence of the ocean only fitted by the singing, he whispers a warning to them before climbing onto one of the ships with his trident in his hands, trying to sneak on.
“A pleasure to meet you as well! My name isn’t important, but his is…” she says, gesturing to the sleeping baby, gently, ‘awwwww,’ing. “His name is Larian.”
she barely notices, only vaguely acknowledging it. Anthony climbs up onto the frontmost ship, quickly ducking behind a barrel. There are a dozen people on the top deck, maintaining things, steering, and keeping a lookout. They have special equipment, which seem to have been made for a specific, unheard of purpose: whaling.
“Your name is just as important as any, though that is an opinion of someone just as relevant. Larian is a wonderful name, and this child seems to be a wonderful one indeed.” He says, holding out a finger to the baby.
He looks at the equipment curiously, but from what he can sense off of these workers, whatever they’re up to, Anthony doesn’t like it. And so, he begins silently disabling members of the crew, he wasn’t especially strong or fast before knowing Sargassa, but with all the time he’s spent swimming, and gaining divine blessing, he’s pretty decent.
The infant subconsciously reaches out a hand to grab the finger. The old woman chuckles gleefully. “He’s young, but he’s getting more and more active by the day! Soon enough, these old bones won’t be able to keep up with him…” she chuckles again.
he manages to take out about half of them before someone notices something is up. He calls to the first mate, who comes up from the bottom deck with four more people in tow, looking around suspiciously.
He smiles at that, playing with the child’s hand softly, making sure not to poke or harm them in the slightest “Yet that is the greatest part of growing old is it not? Seeing those you’ve cared for fulfill the things you know they were always capable of.”
He disappears back into the shadows, he made sure not to kill anyone, just popping open barrels and sticking people inside. When anyone gets close, he evens his breathing until they pass, taking out the first mate when he gets the chance.
“Oh, I know… and Larian here, he will be capable of oh, so much… i can already feel it. He’ll do great things.”
he tries to sneak up on the first mate, but they seem to be much more capable than the other crew. The first mate hears him approaching, and whips around to face him, sword in hand.
She thinks for a moment, before they speak again, sounding defeated. "...I mean, from a logical angle... I suppose tolerating your jokes and nicknames wouldn't be as bad as not existing."
"Good for you, you understand the logic, unfortunately, I don't care anymore. I'll leave you a place to stay, but there's no point giving you nicknames. You can cheer, you don't have to tolerate my jokes anymore!" He walks past them, his voice cold "Good job losing your only friend. Really." He goes to his couch, sitting down there, he turns on his console and begins to play silently.
*If you want to continue?*
She is silent, standing there, feeling conflicted. 'Why does this feel... bad? I should be happy.' she thinks to herself. 'I've finally gotten him to stop. The one person I despise the most wants nothing to do with me anymore. I defeated him. I won...'
'...so why doesn't it feel like I won?'
She looks back at him for a moment, with frustration and sadness and what she doesn't want to admit is guilt, and leaves the room, going back to reading notes on his experiments.
Included in his notes are numerous things, from ways to help mortals grow to never need wills again, to ways to create growth through conflict without requiring people’s lives to be lost. Happy Chaos in all regards is a madman, but he’s a genius too, and innovator. There are small scribbles about how these could help his friends, help the Fathomless with his stress, or help Sarah survive despite hating him.
*Yvonne?*
*Sorry I missed this.*
They seem impressed by some of the designs, and then... they notice the one meant to help them. It doesn't make any amount of sense to the 'angel'- why would he go out of his way to help them, of all people?.. She remains there, silently deep in thought. It finally occurs to them that there's a strong likelihood that they're the one in the wrong.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
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The old woman merrily travels on an old stone road that was not there before, and never will be, towards the city of order, the infant with her in a pink wicker basket.
Sargassa is surfaced in the sea of storms, singing a heartwrenching, haunting melody.
Recently, a black gem has been unearthed by followers of Mephilia. It’s absurdly reflective, but simultaneously somehow dark as the night.
Aaravi is continuing the path of the monsoon.
Eris is back at the Grey Peaks again, technically here to gather intel on the whereabouts of the Mourn family, though also hoping to maybe find Perseus again.
Orchid is overseeing the Arena of Thorns, watching the carnage between her creations and those of other Wills with sadistic glee.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*If you want to continue?*
She is silent, standing there, feeling conflicted. 'Why does this feel... bad? I should be happy.' she thinks to herself. 'I've finally gotten him to stop. The one person I despise the most wants nothing to do with me anymore. I defeated him. I won...'
'...so why doesn't it feel like I won?'
She looks back at him for a moment, with frustration and sadness and what she doesn't want to admit is guilt, and leaves the room, going back to reading notes on his experiments.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*unfortunately, i don’t feel like playing Perseus currently, sorry!*
an old woman watches one of the fights, dressed in a dirty, tattered old brown dress, stitched back together with various materials over the years. She has a walking stick, overgrown with fungi and mushrooms, her hair messy, with little twigs and branches stuck in it. She has a satchel full of jars and vials of half dead plant and animal specimens. She has a permanent frown on her face, though through her eyes Orchid could see that she’s enjoying the fights.
Included in his notes are numerous things, from ways to help mortals grow to never need wills again, to ways to create growth through conflict without requiring people’s lives to be lost. Happy Chaos in all regards is a madman, but he’s a genius too, and innovator. There are small scribbles about how these could help his friends, help the Fathomless with his stress, or help Sarah survive despite hating him.
Slayer sees the old woman as well as the child, smiling softly as he stops walking. He looks at them curiously, tilting his head as he tries to see if they are mortal or not.
Anthony is with them, but he’s kind just tredding water and listening to the melody without much to add.
She’s mortal, as far as he can tell. Just really, really, really old. She merrily waltzes over to him, still carrying the sleeping child in the wicker basket.
as Sargassa continues singing, several more creatures surface with her: whales. In the distance, Anthony can see several lights, and the vague silhouettes of large ships, seven of them, sailing towards Sargassa. All of her 80 something eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see them coming.
He gives a smile, more kind and genuine than most he provides to any. He bows deeply before them, “Hello there, a pleasure to meet you, whoever you may be, I am Slayer.”
He does the only thing he really can do, in the silence of the ocean only fitted by the singing, he whispers a warning to them before climbing onto one of the ships with his trident in his hands, trying to sneak on.
*That's perfectly fine with me! Perhaps another time when we're both ready!*
Orchid notices the old woman, seeming somewhat intrigued by the collection of specimens she carries, and sends one of her blights down through the arena seating to her, carrying the message that she is invited to speak to the Will of Thorns.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
“A pleasure to meet you as well! My name isn’t important, but his is…” she says, gesturing to the sleeping baby, gently, ‘awwwww,’ing. “His name is Larian.”
she barely notices, only vaguely acknowledging it. Anthony climbs up onto the frontmost ship, quickly ducking behind a barrel. There are a dozen people on the top deck, maintaining things, steering, and keeping a lookout. They have special equipment, which seem to have been made for a specific, unheard of purpose: whaling.
When she hears the message, she chuckles slightly, before getting up and slowly making her way up to the Will of Thorns. Wherever she walks, a trail of fungi sprout behind her.
“Your name is just as important as any, though that is an opinion of someone just as relevant. Larian is a wonderful name, and this child seems to be a wonderful one indeed.” He says, holding out a finger to the baby.
He looks at the equipment curiously, but from what he can sense off of these workers, whatever they’re up to, Anthony doesn’t like it. And so, he begins silently disabling members of the crew, he wasn’t especially strong or fast before knowing Sargassa, but with all the time he’s spent swimming, and gaining divine blessing, he’s pretty decent.
The infant subconsciously reaches out a hand to grab the finger. The old woman chuckles gleefully. “He’s young, but he’s getting more and more active by the day! Soon enough, these old bones won’t be able to keep up with him…” she chuckles again.
he manages to take out about half of them before someone notices something is up. He calls to the first mate, who comes up from the bottom deck with four more people in tow, looking around suspiciously.
Orchid watches her with curiosity as she follows the blight past a pair of doors made of brambles and up numerous flights of amber stairs, leading them to the high-up viewing platform where the Verdant Pestilence watches the battles rage on.
"Greetings." They say to her once she arrives, a wide grin on their face.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
“I’ve always hoped to one day meet you, the mastermind behind the amber marsh…” she does a slight bow, now grinning as well. She seems... Giddy to meet Orchid, which probably isn’t how most people would react.
He smiles at that, playing with the child’s hand softly, making sure not to poke or harm them in the slightest “Yet that is the greatest part of growing old is it not? Seeing those you’ve cared for fulfill the things you know they were always capable of.”
He disappears back into the shadows, he made sure not to kill anyone, just popping open barrels and sticking people inside. When anyone gets close, he evens his breathing until they pass, taking out the first mate when he gets the chance.
*Yvonne?*
“Oh, I know… and Larian here, he will be capable of oh, so much… i can already feel it. He’ll do great things.”
he tries to sneak up on the first mate, but they seem to be much more capable than the other crew. The first mate hears him approaching, and whips around to face him, sword in hand.
*Sorry I missed this.*
They seem impressed by some of the designs, and then... they notice the one meant to help them. It doesn't make any amount of sense to the 'angel'- why would he go out of his way to help them, of all people?.. She remains there, silently deep in thought. It finally occurs to them that there's a strong likelihood that they're the one in the wrong.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)