"I don't what that thing round the house, you hear? You get it to go away. I don't what that varmint around the kids, hon." says the Mother.
"I hear you, hon. It don't look well. Shouldn't be hard to scare it off. Those things are more afraid of us than we are of them." He begins to walk towards the creature taking long, wide steps. He waves his hands above his head and hollers, "Go on now! Git! Git! You go on now you dirty varmint!"
It takes a shaky step back, growling at the father. It should be scared of them. But it isn’t. Then, it takes a couple of steps towards the father, as if it were about to lunge at him.
The Father stops for a moment, suddenly unsure. The beast's strange attitude has shaken his confidence. The remedy? A stronger display of force. "I said git!" he shouts with his arms spread wide.
Young Jimmy appears in the doorway with his daddy's gun in hand. "Stay here with your sister Jimmy. I don't want you going near that thing." His Mother takes the gun from his hand and slowly begins to walk out towards her husband and the beast.
"Howdy. We're traveling throughout the realm for research purposes- well, that and getting away from enemies. This is your domain, yes?" She replies with a faint electrical crackling in her voice, looking at the desert around them with interest.
"Yessiree, I'm the proud and rightful owner of every thorny twig and sandy patch in this here desert. From the cacti to the mesas to the vulture nests to the coyote pups." He looks at your marvelous machination, "You some sort of high-falutin' scientist? What sorta research do you do?"
She looks up at the Mirth Manor as well. "Of sorts- it's as much arcane elements as it is mechanical. I suppose 'artificer' would be more apt a title. As for our research, it is mostly on the other Wills and how they affect the environment around them."
"That so?" He takes a seat on a large rock and surveys his desert, "My will molds this here environment to be the perfect reflection of life. I have tried to create as honest a land as I can."
She produces a small glass vial from one pocket on her leather apron, collecting a small bit of earth. "I understand that- you've created something beautiful, I'd say. I haven't seen any place like it before. Where did you get your inspiration?"
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 Will of Thorns' interest continues to grow as she explains her plan. "A perfect organism, you say? That does sound especially intriguing." They think for a moment, a look of insane glee on their face. "Alright, I'll help you with making this new being. What is this method you plan on creating it through?"
She chuckles, taking an old leather notebook overgrown with moss, flipping a few pages, and showing Orchid. It’s a complex diagram involving numerous foreign sigils and eldritch signs unknown to orchid, as well as lists and sketches of numerous alchemical ingredients. In the center of the diagram is a human body. “Alchemy can create many things, but it can’t create something living. Magic, at least known in this world, doesn’t give me perfect control over an organism’s traits and complex biology… but I had looked deeper, into ancient lores of dead cults and of the workings of past gods… and I found something, that, with some modification, might work… in my search, I’ve found a ritual for fleshcrafting originally made to turn a mortal into a monster, invented by some mad deity I know not of. I believe we can repurpose this ritual in order to perfectly shape our own organism, rewrite its very biology into something flawless, by combining it with alchemy to give us more control over the result.”
Orchid reads through the lists and diagrams with great interest, grinning ear to ear in an unnervingly literal sense. "How intriguing... even I don't know what some of these sigils are. It does look promising indeed... and, however it turns out, I'm sure the result will be incredible. How can I help?"
“Well, it’d require an amount of power that I’m afraid I can’t give without dying, but I’m sure would take little effort from a Will. And secondly, since you’re a Will of nature and foliage, I wanted your help… well, designing what this perfect organism would be.
"I'd love to help design it- I already have some ideas. As for the power requirement..." She clenches a fist with one hand, thorns impaling her own hand and dripping amber sap from the wounds, before opening her hand again to reveal it contains a glistening amber gem containing a small piece ion her divine power- 5,000 power points worth. She offers the gemstone to her.
She takes the gemstone excitedly, holding it up to the light and examining it. ”thank you… you are very kind…“ she produces a piece of cloth and wraps the amber gem in it, storing it in her satchel.
"Occasionally, yes. Nature isn't always ruthless, after all. That, and I think this project will be very entertaining." She responds, turning to look out at the arena for a moment. "Perhaps we combine aspects from every form of life? Animal, plant, fungus, bacterium- all of it encompassed in a single being..."
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)
A broken, withered, four-armed demon emerges from the sand in the middle of the desert. His body is near-skeletal, skin hanging off his bones, but were he to stand he would likely be at least eight feet tall. He has horns that connect in the middle to make a halo, inside of which is a red symbol that matches his glowing, hollow eyes. He raises a hand off the ground and slowly conjures a mug of beer beneath it. He drains it in one pull, then struggles to his feet.
He looks around. "Take a breath, take a step..." he whispers. "...and have a stab."
"I don't what that thing round the house, you hear? You get it to go away. I don't what that varmint around the kids, hon." says the Mother.
"I hear you, hon. It don't look well. Shouldn't be hard to scare it off. Those things are more afraid of us than we are of them." He begins to walk towards the creature taking long, wide steps. He waves his hands above his head and hollers, "Go on now! Git! Git! You go on now you dirty varmint!"
It takes a shaky step back, growling at the father. It should be scared of them. But it isn’t. Then, it takes a couple of steps towards the father, as if it were about to lunge at him.
The Father stops for a moment, suddenly unsure. The beast's strange attitude has shaken his confidence. The remedy? A stronger display of force. "I said git!" he shouts with his arms spread wide.
Young Jimmy appears in the doorway with his daddy's gun in hand. "Stay here with your sister Jimmy. I don't want you going near that thing." His Mother takes the gun from his hand and slowly begins to walk out towards her husband and the beast.
The coyote falters slightly as well, but again, it doesn’t simply run off like other beasts would. It gets a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until the father can see it’s wild, desperate eyes, staring up at him, just a few feet away.
The Will of Thorns' interest continues to grow as she explains her plan. "A perfect organism, you say? That does sound especially intriguing." They think for a moment, a look of insane glee on their face. "Alright, I'll help you with making this new being. What is this method you plan on creating it through?"
She chuckles, taking an old leather notebook overgrown with moss, flipping a few pages, and showing Orchid. It’s a complex diagram involving numerous foreign sigils and eldritch signs unknown to orchid, as well as lists and sketches of numerous alchemical ingredients. In the center of the diagram is a human body. “Alchemy can create many things, but it can’t create something living. Magic, at least known in this world, doesn’t give me perfect control over an organism’s traits and complex biology… but I had looked deeper, into ancient lores of dead cults and of the workings of past gods… and I found something, that, with some modification, might work… in my search, I’ve found a ritual for fleshcrafting originally made to turn a mortal into a monster, invented by some mad deity I know not of. I believe we can repurpose this ritual in order to perfectly shape our own organism, rewrite its very biology into something flawless, by combining it with alchemy to give us more control over the result.”
Orchid reads through the lists and diagrams with great interest, grinning ear to ear in an unnervingly literal sense. "How intriguing... even I don't know what some of these sigils are. It does look promising indeed... and, however it turns out, I'm sure the result will be incredible. How can I help?"
“Well, it’d require an amount of power that I’m afraid I can’t give without dying, but I’m sure would take little effort from a Will. And secondly, since you’re a Will of nature and foliage, I wanted your help… well, designing what this perfect organism would be.
"I'd love to help design it- I already have some ideas. As for the power requirement..." She clenches a fist with one hand, thorns impaling her own hand and dripping amber sap from the wounds, before opening her hand again to reveal it contains a glistening amber gem containing a small piece ion her divine power- 5,000 power points worth. She offers the gemstone to her.
She takes the gemstone excitedly, holding it up to the light and examining it. ”thank you… you are very kind…“ she produces a piece of cloth and wraps the amber gem in it, storing it in her satchel.
"Occasionally, yes. Nature isn't always ruthless, after all. That, and I think this project will be very entertaining." She responds, turning to look out at the arena for a moment. "Perhaps we combine aspects from every form of life? Animal, plant, fungus, bacterium- all of it encompassed in a single being..."
“What a wonderful idea… my original plans were a kind of seeding plant that grew rapidly, such as Kudzu… but i haven’t much else planned at this point.”
"Howdy. We're traveling throughout the realm for research purposes- well, that and getting away from enemies. This is your domain, yes?" She replies with a faint electrical crackling in her voice, looking at the desert around them with interest.
"Yessiree, I'm the proud and rightful owner of every thorny twig and sandy patch in this here desert. From the cacti to the mesas to the vulture nests to the coyote pups." He looks at your marvelous machination, "You some sort of high-falutin' scientist? What sorta research do you do?"
She looks up at the Mirth Manor as well. "Of sorts- it's as much arcane elements as it is mechanical. I suppose 'artificer' would be more apt a title. As for our research, it is mostly on the other Wills and how they affect the environment around them."
"That so?" He takes a seat on a large rock and surveys his desert, "My will molds this here environment to be the perfect reflection of life. I have tried to create as honest a land as I can."
She produces a small glass vial from one pocket on her leather apron, collecting a small bit of earth. "I understand that- you've created something beautiful, I'd say. I haven't seen any place like it before. Where did you get your inspiration?"
"Inspiration? What can inspire a god? Are we not the only beings capable of true, pure creativity? But you asked, so maybe the question isn't all that strange. Life. That's it. I knew life is going to be hard, so I made the ground hard and barren. I knew life was going to be painful, so I decked every branch and plant with thorns and needles and gave every beast venom and tooth and claw. I know you can't walk through this world openly, unguarded, so I left spiders and snakes and scorpions to sting the barefoot. I know that life isn't easy, so I let the sun be unrelenting and blast my land with all the heat it can muster. I know that life can be ugly, so I gave vultures black feathers and bald heads and insects alien bodies. I know that life is beautiful, so I shoot hummingbirds like darts through my trees and paint landscapes with browns and reds and stick blue blossoms in the dry grasses and hide fossils in the cracked stones of creek beds and gloss the fat bodies of black widows and tear the flesh from bones so that their white architecture can be on full display. This is the most honest place I can imagine."
"I don't what that thing round the house, you hear? You get it to go away. I don't what that varmint around the kids, hon." says the Mother.
"I hear you, hon. It don't look well. Shouldn't be hard to scare it off. Those things are more afraid of us than we are of them." He begins to walk towards the creature taking long, wide steps. He waves his hands above his head and hollers, "Go on now! Git! Git! You go on now you dirty varmint!"
It takes a shaky step back, growling at the father. It should be scared of them. But it isn’t. Then, it takes a couple of steps towards the father, as if it were about to lunge at him.
The Father stops for a moment, suddenly unsure. The beast's strange attitude has shaken his confidence. The remedy? A stronger display of force. "I said git!" he shouts with his arms spread wide.
Young Jimmy appears in the doorway with his daddy's gun in hand. "Stay here with your sister Jimmy. I don't want you going near that thing." His Mother takes the gun from his hand and slowly begins to walk out towards her husband and the beast.
The coyote falters slightly as well, but again, it doesn’t simply run off like other beasts would. It gets a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until the father can see it’s wild, desperate eyes, staring up at him, just a few feet away.
"Darn thing won't leave. Ain't... natural." He takes the gun from his wife and tells her to get back with the kids. He mutters, "Wish I didn't have to do this but you won't leave," as he looks away from the coyote to check to see if his gun is loaded. It is.
A broken, withered, four-armed demon emerges from the sand in the middle of the desert. His body is near-skeletal, skin hanging off his bones, but were he to stand he would likely be at least eight feet tall. He has horns that connect in the middle to make a halo, inside of which is a red symbol that matches his glowing, hollow eyes. He raises a hand off the ground and slowly conjures a mug of beer beneath it. He drains it in one pull, then struggles to his feet.
He looks around. "Take a breath, take a step..." he whispers. "...and have a stab."
Gorgiro, Level one demon. Revelry domain.
Meanwhile, Volstadt is out tasting cheeses.
One of the cacti that stand like solemn sentinels twists and shifts its form, becoming a tall, ponchoed skeleton with the widespread horns of a longhorn. "Howdy stranger," He says in a dry voice that sounds like a rattlesnake slithering across the scorched earth. "You look like a creature of my land... but you ain't mine, are you?"
"I don't what that thing round the house, you hear? You get it to go away. I don't what that varmint around the kids, hon." says the Mother.
"I hear you, hon. It don't look well. Shouldn't be hard to scare it off. Those things are more afraid of us than we are of them." He begins to walk towards the creature taking long, wide steps. He waves his hands above his head and hollers, "Go on now! Git! Git! You go on now you dirty varmint!"
It takes a shaky step back, growling at the father. It should be scared of them. But it isn’t. Then, it takes a couple of steps towards the father, as if it were about to lunge at him.
The Father stops for a moment, suddenly unsure. The beast's strange attitude has shaken his confidence. The remedy? A stronger display of force. "I said git!" he shouts with his arms spread wide.
Young Jimmy appears in the doorway with his daddy's gun in hand. "Stay here with your sister Jimmy. I don't want you going near that thing." His Mother takes the gun from his hand and slowly begins to walk out towards her husband and the beast.
The coyote falters slightly as well, but again, it doesn’t simply run off like other beasts would. It gets a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until the father can see it’s wild, desperate eyes, staring up at him, just a few feet away.
"Darn thing won't leave. Ain't... natural." He takes the gun from his wife and tells her to get back with the kids. He mutters, "Wish I didn't have to do this but you won't leave," as he looks away from the coyote to check to see if his gun is loaded. It is.
He shouldn’t have looked away.
the coyote lunges towards him, trying to unbalance him as it tries to bite his leg. If it succeeds, and it draws blood, the Father will be cursed with Lyssa’s disease, and he will die within a couple of weeks. A few months, at most.
"I don't what that thing round the house, you hear? You get it to go away. I don't what that varmint around the kids, hon." says the Mother.
"I hear you, hon. It don't look well. Shouldn't be hard to scare it off. Those things are more afraid of us than we are of them." He begins to walk towards the creature taking long, wide steps. He waves his hands above his head and hollers, "Go on now! Git! Git! You go on now you dirty varmint!"
It takes a shaky step back, growling at the father. It should be scared of them. But it isn’t. Then, it takes a couple of steps towards the father, as if it were about to lunge at him.
The Father stops for a moment, suddenly unsure. The beast's strange attitude has shaken his confidence. The remedy? A stronger display of force. "I said git!" he shouts with his arms spread wide.
Young Jimmy appears in the doorway with his daddy's gun in hand. "Stay here with your sister Jimmy. I don't want you going near that thing." His Mother takes the gun from his hand and slowly begins to walk out towards her husband and the beast.
The coyote falters slightly as well, but again, it doesn’t simply run off like other beasts would. It gets a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until the father can see it’s wild, desperate eyes, staring up at him, just a few feet away.
"Darn thing won't leave. Ain't... natural." He takes the gun from his wife and tells her to get back with the kids. He mutters, "Wish I didn't have to do this but you won't leave," as he looks away from the coyote to check to see if his gun is loaded. It is.
He shouldn’t have looked away.
the coyote lunges towards him, trying to unbalance him as it tries to bite his leg. If it succeeds, and it draws blood, the Father will be cursed with Lyssa’s disease, and he will die within a couple of weeks. A few months, at most.
His cry mingles with the shriek of the Mother as the beast's teeth sink into his leg. Blood begins to stain his paint leg. He falls to his back and accidentally fires his gun into the air. He hastily begins to reload the weapon.
A broken, withered, four-armed demon emerges from the sand in the middle of the desert. His body is near-skeletal, skin hanging off his bones, but were he to stand he would likely be at least eight feet tall. He has horns that connect in the middle to make a halo, inside of which is a red symbol that matches his glowing, hollow eyes. He raises a hand off the ground and slowly conjures a mug of beer beneath it. He drains it in one pull, then struggles to his feet.
He looks around. "Take a breath, take a step..." he whispers. "...and have a stab."
Gorgiro, Level one demon. Revelry domain.
Meanwhile, Volstadt is out tasting cheeses.
One of the cacti that stand like solemn sentinels twists and shifts its form, becoming a tall, ponchoed skeleton with the widespread horns of a longhorn. "Howdy stranger," He says in a dry voice that sounds like a rattlesnake slithering across the scorched earth. "You look like a creature of my land... but you ain't mine, are you?"
He slowly turns to fully face the other Will. "Wouldn't say I am, stranger..." he rasps, throat dry. "Though, if you're some sort of devil, maybe I'm wrong. Do I live, partner?"
"I don't what that thing round the house, you hear? You get it to go away. I don't what that varmint around the kids, hon." says the Mother.
"I hear you, hon. It don't look well. Shouldn't be hard to scare it off. Those things are more afraid of us than we are of them." He begins to walk towards the creature taking long, wide steps. He waves his hands above his head and hollers, "Go on now! Git! Git! You go on now you dirty varmint!"
It takes a shaky step back, growling at the father. It should be scared of them. But it isn’t. Then, it takes a couple of steps towards the father, as if it were about to lunge at him.
The Father stops for a moment, suddenly unsure. The beast's strange attitude has shaken his confidence. The remedy? A stronger display of force. "I said git!" he shouts with his arms spread wide.
Young Jimmy appears in the doorway with his daddy's gun in hand. "Stay here with your sister Jimmy. I don't want you going near that thing." His Mother takes the gun from his hand and slowly begins to walk out towards her husband and the beast.
The coyote falters slightly as well, but again, it doesn’t simply run off like other beasts would. It gets a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until the father can see it’s wild, desperate eyes, staring up at him, just a few feet away.
"Darn thing won't leave. Ain't... natural." He takes the gun from his wife and tells her to get back with the kids. He mutters, "Wish I didn't have to do this but you won't leave," as he looks away from the coyote to check to see if his gun is loaded. It is.
He shouldn’t have looked away.
the coyote lunges towards him, trying to unbalance him as it tries to bite his leg. If it succeeds, and it draws blood, the Father will be cursed with Lyssa’s disease, and he will die within a couple of weeks. A few months, at most.
His cry mingles with the shriek of the Mother as the beast's teeth sink into his leg. Blood begins to stain his paint leg. He falls to his back and accidentally fires his gun into the air. He hastily begins to reload the weapon.
The canine bites again, on the same leg, not letting go, shaking and growling madly. The gunshot makes it jump back a few feet in surprise, letting go as it looks around wildly.
A broken, withered, four-armed demon emerges from the sand in the middle of the desert. His body is near-skeletal, skin hanging off his bones, but were he to stand he would likely be at least eight feet tall. He has horns that connect in the middle to make a halo, inside of which is a red symbol that matches his glowing, hollow eyes. He raises a hand off the ground and slowly conjures a mug of beer beneath it. He drains it in one pull, then struggles to his feet.
He looks around. "Take a breath, take a step..." he whispers. "...and have a stab."
Gorgiro, Level one demon. Revelry domain.
Meanwhile, Volstadt is out tasting cheeses.
One of the cacti that stand like solemn sentinels twists and shifts its form, becoming a tall, ponchoed skeleton with the widespread horns of a longhorn. "Howdy stranger," He says in a dry voice that sounds like a rattlesnake slithering across the scorched earth. "You look like a creature of my land... but you ain't mine, are you?"
He slowly turns to fully face the other Will. "Wouldn't say I am, stranger..." he rasps, throat dry. "Though, if you're some sort of devil, maybe I'm wrong. Do I live, partner?"
"I have horns and am made of bones... but no, I ain't no devil. Ain't nothing evil about bones or horns." He pauses as an army of ants swarm out of his eye sockets. They teem in a frenzy across his face and horns as if searching for a scrap of flesh but finding none they return to the dark pits of his eye sockets. "As far as I can tell, you seem to."
His cry mingles with the shriek of the Mother as the beast's teeth sink into his leg. Blood begins to stain his paint leg. He falls to his back and accidentally fires his gun into the air. He hastily begins to reload the weapon.
The canine bites again, on the same leg, not letting go, shaking and growling madly. The gunshot makes it jump back a few feet in surprise, letting go as it looks around wildly.
The rifle drops down, its belly now full of death. With a crack its bullet streaks out of the barrel straight at the coyotes heart, ready to do some biting of its own.
He slowly turns to fully face the other Will. "Wouldn't say I am, stranger..." he rasps, throat dry. "Though, if you're some sort of devil, maybe I'm wrong. Do I live, partner?"
"I have horns and am made of bones... but no, I ain't no devil. Ain't nothing evil about bones or horns." He pauses as an army of ants swarm out of his eye sockets. They teem in a frenzy across his face and horns as if searching for a scrap of flesh but finding none they return to the dark pits of his eye sockets. "As far as I can tell, you seem to."
His body sags like an amateur's marionette, and he smiles, sand falling out of his open jaws. "Then I'd better get started, huh?" He reaches down to his hollow stomach, patting it. Then he jams his claws through his side, causing bright red, foaming aqua vitae to splash and spill to the sand, sizzling and evaporating quickly. He pulls out sausages from the wound, coiling them around his arm until he has a good 25 feet of pork links dripping in alcohol. He holds out one end to the skeletal god.
"Could you spare a light for a poor sinner like me?"
He slowly turns to fully face the other Will. "Wouldn't say I am, stranger..." he rasps, throat dry. "Though, if you're some sort of devil, maybe I'm wrong. Do I live, partner?"
"I have horns and am made of bones... but no, I ain't no devil. Ain't nothing evil about bones or horns." He pauses as an army of ants swarm out of his eye sockets. They teem in a frenzy across his face and horns as if searching for a scrap of flesh but finding none they return to the dark pits of his eye sockets. "As far as I can tell, you seem to."
His body sags like an amateur's marionette, and he smiles, sand falling out of his open jaws. "Then I'd better get started, huh?" He reaches down to his hollow stomach, patting it. Then he jams his claws through his side, causing bright red, foaming aqua vitae to splash and spill to the sand, sizzling and evaporating quickly. He pulls out sausages from the wound, coiling them around his arm until he has a good 25 feet of pork links dripping in alcohol. He holds out one end to the skeletal god.
"Could you spare a light for a poor sinner like me?"
"That's one heck of a pantry," He procures a match and strikes it on the bottom of his boot before handing it over.
His body sags like an amateur's marionette, and he smiles, sand falling out of his open jaws. "Then I'd better get started, huh?" He reaches down to his hollow stomach, patting it. Then he jams his claws through his side, causing bright red, foaming aqua vitae to splash and spill to the sand, sizzling and evaporating quickly. He pulls out sausages from the wound, coiling them around his arm until he has a good 25 feet of pork links dripping in alcohol. He holds out one end to the skeletal god.
"Could you spare a light for a poor sinner like me?"
"That's one heck of a pantry," He procures a match and strikes it on the bottom of his boot before handing it over.
"Thank you, partner... heh heh..." He lights the sausages on fire, wrapping them around his body. The fat crackles and pops, spraying onto the sand around him as the sausages cook. Where the fat lands, it begins to regenerate, swelling and warping until it forms whole pigs. He holds out his arms, laughing and spinning in a ritualistic dance, before falling back to the earth, the fires extinguishing. He lays there on the earth, a wheezing laugh echoing from his hollow body.
His body sags like an amateur's marionette, and he smiles, sand falling out of his open jaws. "Then I'd better get started, huh?" He reaches down to his hollow stomach, patting it. Then he jams his claws through his side, causing bright red, foaming aqua vitae to splash and spill to the sand, sizzling and evaporating quickly. He pulls out sausages from the wound, coiling them around his arm until he has a good 25 feet of pork links dripping in alcohol. He holds out one end to the skeletal god.
"Could you spare a light for a poor sinner like me?"
"That's one heck of a pantry," He procures a match and strikes it on the bottom of his boot before handing it over.
"Thank you, partner... heh heh..." He lights the sausages on fire, wrapping them around his body. The fat crackles and pops, spraying onto the sand around him as the sausages cook. Where the fat lands, it begins to regenerate, swelling and warping until it forms whole pigs. He holds out his arms, laughing and spinning in a ritualistic dance, before falling back to the earth, the fires extinguishing. He lays there on the earth, a wheezing laugh echoing from his hollow body.
Crotalus is leaning up with his arms crossed against a cactus and watching this strange new demon. "Who... are you?"
The Father stops for a moment, suddenly unsure. The beast's strange attitude has shaken his confidence. The remedy? A stronger display of force. "I said git!" he shouts with his arms spread wide.
Young Jimmy appears in the doorway with his daddy's gun in hand. "Stay here with your sister Jimmy. I don't want you going near that thing." His Mother takes the gun from his hand and slowly begins to walk out towards her husband and the beast.
She produces a small glass vial from one pocket on her leather apron, collecting a small bit of earth. "I understand that- you've created something beautiful, I'd say. I haven't seen any place like it before. Where did you get your inspiration?"
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)
"Occasionally, yes. Nature isn't always ruthless, after all. That, and I think this project will be very entertaining." She responds, turning to look out at the arena for a moment. "Perhaps we combine aspects from every form of life? Animal, plant, fungus, bacterium- all of it encompassed in a single being..."
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 broken, withered, four-armed demon emerges from the sand in the middle of the desert. His body is near-skeletal, skin hanging off his bones, but were he to stand he would likely be at least eight feet tall. He has horns that connect in the middle to make a halo, inside of which is a red symbol that matches his glowing, hollow eyes. He raises a hand off the ground and slowly conjures a mug of beer beneath it. He drains it in one pull, then struggles to his feet.
He looks around. "Take a breath, take a step..." he whispers. "...and have a stab."
Gorgiro, Level one demon. Revelry domain.
Meanwhile, Volstadt is out tasting cheeses.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
The coyote falters slightly as well, but again, it doesn’t simply run off like other beasts would. It gets a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until the father can see it’s wild, desperate eyes, staring up at him, just a few feet away.
“What a wonderful idea… my original plans were a kind of seeding plant that grew rapidly, such as Kudzu… but i haven’t much else planned at this point.”
"Inspiration? What can inspire a god? Are we not the only beings capable of true, pure creativity? But you asked, so maybe the question isn't all that strange. Life. That's it. I knew life is going to be hard, so I made the ground hard and barren. I knew life was going to be painful, so I decked every branch and plant with thorns and needles and gave every beast venom and tooth and claw. I know you can't walk through this world openly, unguarded, so I left spiders and snakes and scorpions to sting the barefoot. I know that life isn't easy, so I let the sun be unrelenting and blast my land with all the heat it can muster. I know that life can be ugly, so I gave vultures black feathers and bald heads and insects alien bodies. I know that life is beautiful, so I shoot hummingbirds like darts through my trees and paint landscapes with browns and reds and stick blue blossoms in the dry grasses and hide fossils in the cracked stones of creek beds and gloss the fat bodies of black widows and tear the flesh from bones so that their white architecture can be on full display. This is the most honest place I can imagine."
"Darn thing won't leave. Ain't... natural." He takes the gun from his wife and tells her to get back with the kids. He mutters, "Wish I didn't have to do this but you won't leave," as he looks away from the coyote to check to see if his gun is loaded. It is.
One of the cacti that stand like solemn sentinels twists and shifts its form, becoming a tall, ponchoed skeleton with the widespread horns of a longhorn. "Howdy stranger," He says in a dry voice that sounds like a rattlesnake slithering across the scorched earth. "You look like a creature of my land... but you ain't mine, are you?"
He shouldn’t have looked away.
the coyote lunges towards him, trying to unbalance him as it tries to bite his leg. If it succeeds, and it draws blood, the Father will be cursed with Lyssa’s disease, and he will die within a couple of weeks. A few months, at most.
His cry mingles with the shriek of the Mother as the beast's teeth sink into his leg. Blood begins to stain his paint leg. He falls to his back and accidentally fires his gun into the air. He hastily begins to reload the weapon.
He slowly turns to fully face the other Will. "Wouldn't say I am, stranger..." he rasps, throat dry. "Though, if you're some sort of devil, maybe I'm wrong. Do I live, partner?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
The canine bites again, on the same leg, not letting go, shaking and growling madly. The gunshot makes it jump back a few feet in surprise, letting go as it looks around wildly.
"I have horns and am made of bones... but no, I ain't no devil. Ain't nothing evil about bones or horns." He pauses as an army of ants swarm out of his eye sockets. They teem in a frenzy across his face and horns as if searching for a scrap of flesh but finding none they return to the dark pits of his eye sockets. "As far as I can tell, you seem to."
The rifle drops down, its belly now full of death. With a crack its bullet streaks out of the barrel straight at the coyotes heart, ready to do some biting of its own.
His body sags like an amateur's marionette, and he smiles, sand falling out of his open jaws. "Then I'd better get started, huh?" He reaches down to his hollow stomach, patting it. Then he jams his claws through his side, causing bright red, foaming aqua vitae to splash and spill to the sand, sizzling and evaporating quickly. He pulls out sausages from the wound, coiling them around his arm until he has a good 25 feet of pork links dripping in alcohol. He holds out one end to the skeletal god.
"Could you spare a light for a poor sinner like me?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
"That's one heck of a pantry," He procures a match and strikes it on the bottom of his boot before handing it over.
"Thank you, partner... heh heh..." He lights the sausages on fire, wrapping them around his body. The fat crackles and pops, spraying onto the sand around him as the sausages cook. Where the fat lands, it begins to regenerate, swelling and warping until it forms whole pigs. He holds out his arms, laughing and spinning in a ritualistic dance, before falling back to the earth, the fires extinguishing. He lays there on the earth, a wheezing laugh echoing from his hollow body.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
*I gotta go very, very soon, so just a heads-up.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Crotalus is leaning up with his arms crossed against a cactus and watching this strange new demon. "Who... are you?"