Alacreus is chasing a terrified squirrel, running circles around it, not even touching it but causing such massive gusts of wind to pass by it starts floating.
Jason is watching the dog, his aura soft and soothing, although much weaker than it usually is. He is wearing his nebula cloak and he looks tired.
Alacreus gets bored of the squirrel and runs up to Jason, sitting down in front of them and playfully barking.
He places his hand on the dog, patting it "Such a good dog." He rubs his hand on it's head softly.
It barks and begins running around Jason, at a bit above average dog speed.
He summons a tennis ball "You want to fetch boy?" He runs to the edge of the dome and throws as hard as he can, a solid distance.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Alacreus is chasing a terrified squirrel, running circles around it, not even touching it but causing such massive gusts of wind to pass by it starts floating.
Jason is watching the dog, his aura soft and soothing, although much weaker than it usually is. He is wearing his nebula cloak and he looks tired.
Alacreus gets bored of the squirrel and runs up to Jason, sitting down in front of them and playfully barking.
He places his hand on the dog, patting it "Such a good dog." He rubs his hand on it's head softly.
It barks and begins running around Jason, at a bit above average dog speed.
He summons a tennis ball "You want to fetch boy?" He runs to the edge of the dome and throws as hard as he can, a solid distance.
Half a second later, there is a trail of flaming footprints leading from the ball back to Alacreus, who is sitting there, ball in mouth. They drop the ball.
Alacreus is chasing a terrified squirrel, running circles around it, not even touching it but causing such massive gusts of wind to pass by it starts floating.
Jason is watching the dog, his aura soft and soothing, although much weaker than it usually is. He is wearing his nebula cloak and he looks tired.
Alacreus gets bored of the squirrel and runs up to Jason, sitting down in front of them and playfully barking.
He places his hand on the dog, patting it "Such a good dog." He rubs his hand on it's head softly.
It barks and begins running around Jason, at a bit above average dog speed.
He summons a tennis ball "You want to fetch boy?" He runs to the edge of the dome and throws as hard as he can, a solid distance.
Half a second later, there is a trail of flaming footprints leading from the ball back to Alacreus, who is sitting there, ball in mouth. They drop the ball.
"Okay, let me try this again." He throws with everything he has, using his aura to boost the distance even farther, an explosion of sound.
A food truck enters the dome. It has no tires, or even wheel wells. Instead, it hovers a couple inches off the ground on a cloud of lavender smoke. The vehicle is bright red and gold, incredibly faux-opulent. The sign on the side reads "Greasecure's Gluttonous Emporium." It stops after a while and opens up something like a camper van. The doors and awning are covered in hanging treats and toys, from swords to pickling livers to garlic. A lot of the stuff is outright forbidden in some parts of the world due to being too dangerous (for weapons) or difficult to prepare safely (for food).
A morbidly obese golden half-dragon in a jumpsuit, apron, and paper hat waddles to a place where he can see everything going on. His ruby eyes observe all the magical items, vittles, and of course, all the toys and big, soft beanbags for customers to lounge on. He seems satisfied, and sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the truck, holding a flyswatter in one hand.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Alacreus is chasing a terrified squirrel, running circles around it, not even touching it but causing such massive gusts of wind to pass by it starts floating.
Jason is watching the dog, his aura soft and soothing, although much weaker than it usually is. He is wearing his nebula cloak and he looks tired.
Alacreus gets bored of the squirrel and runs up to Jason, sitting down in front of them and playfully barking.
He places his hand on the dog, patting it "Such a good dog." He rubs his hand on it's head softly.
It barks and begins running around Jason, at a bit above average dog speed.
He summons a tennis ball "You want to fetch boy?" He runs to the edge of the dome and throws as hard as he can, a solid distance.
Half a second later, there is a trail of flaming footprints leading from the ball back to Alacreus, who is sitting there, ball in mouth. They drop the ball.
"Okay, let me try this again." He throws with everything he has, using his aura to boost the distance even farther, an exoplostion of sound.
Two seconds later, same thing. It drops the ball and barks happily.
Tattered flyers flutter through the Dome like cast off autumn leaves. Each papery holler declares the presence of a never before seen, one of a kind, all new show called the Midnight Matinee.
The show can't be found no matter how hard you search the daylight hours but anyone at night can spot the radiant hum of an unfamiliar sight. A crumbling theater has appeared in a seldom traveled corner of the Dome. Ancient bulbs buzz under a shimmering sign that affirms that it is the very same show. Standing at the entrance is a well dressed ticket seller in a purple suit. His face is obscured by a crescent eyed comedy mask laughing at the world.
Tattered flyers flutter through the Dome like cast off autumn leaves. Each papery holler declares the presence of a never before seen, one of a kind, all new show called the Midnight Matinee.
The show can't be found no matter how hard you search the daylight hours but anyone at night can spot the radiant hum of an unfamiliar sight. A crumbling theater has appeared in a seldom traveled corner of the Dome. Ancient bulbs buzz under a shimmering sign that affirms that it is the very same show. Standing at the entrance is a well dressed ticket seller in a purple suit. His face is obscured by a crescent eyed comedy mask laughing at the world.
The food truck (introed just a bit ago) pulls up nearby, the half-dragon looking out the window at the ticket seller. He waves cheerily. "Heya, bud! What kinda show is this?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Alacreus is chasing a terrified squirrel, running circles around it, not even touching it but causing such massive gusts of wind to pass by it starts floating.
Johnny Teatime and the cat parade is having a tea party at various tables, some of them playing chess or croquet on the field. Johnny is resting in his cup.
Zeon would race with Alacreus for a little while. He lasts an hour longer then last time before he has to stop the ace due to running out of energy.
Coronet would have some tea with the cat parade, letting them walk between her exposed ribcage as she is laying down and enjoying the little tea party.
Once the race is over, Alacreus stops next to Zeon, laying down and rolling over in the dirt.
Johnny wakes up and yawns, his feline eyes landin on Coronet. He meows adorably.
Zeon chuckles and pets him
Coronet looks down at Johnny with her ever present three headed grin. “Fabulous festivities, fine feline fellow!”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy and taste good with ketchup."
Tattered flyers flutter through the Dome like cast off autumn leaves. Each papery holler declares the presence of a never before seen, one of a kind, all new show called the Midnight Matinee.
The show can't be found no matter how hard you search the daylight hours but anyone at night can spot the radiant hum of an unfamiliar sight. A crumbling theater has appeared in a seldom traveled corner of the Dome. Ancient bulbs buzz under a shimmering sign that affirms that it is the very same show. Standing at the entrance is a well dressed ticket seller in a purple suit. His face is obscured by a crescent eyed comedy mask laughing at the world.
The food truck (introed just a bit ago) pulls up nearby, the half-dragon looking out the window at the ticket seller. He waves cheerily. "Heya, bud! What kinda show is this?"
He fixes his grinning face on you and speaks in a loud, cheerful voice, "Oh it's a wonderful show. The most talented actors from the greatest theater perform tonight for your delight! All it costs is one dime and a few moments of your time!"
Tattered flyers flutter through the Dome like cast off autumn leaves. Each papery holler declares the presence of a never before seen, one of a kind, all new show called the Midnight Matinee.
The show can't be found no matter how hard you search the daylight hours but anyone at night can spot the radiant hum of an unfamiliar sight. A crumbling theater has appeared in a seldom traveled corner of the Dome. Ancient bulbs buzz under a shimmering sign that affirms that it is the very same show. Standing at the entrance is a well dressed ticket seller in a purple suit. His face is obscured by a crescent eyed comedy mask laughing at the world.
The food truck (introed just a bit ago) pulls up nearby, the half-dragon looking out the window at the ticket seller. He waves cheerily. "Heya, bud! What kinda show is this?"
He fixes his grinning face on you and speaks in a loud, cheerful voice, "Oh it's a wonderful show. The most talented actors from the greatest theater perform tonight for your delight! All it costs is one dime and a few moments of your time!"
The dragonoid thinks for a moment. "Well, I'm known to be stingy with my dimes. Hmmm..." he chuckles. "I'm much better at earning than spending, unfortunately. How about we barter? I can get you whatever you need. Goods are my specialty, but I can do services as well."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He fixes his grinning face on you and speaks in a loud, cheerful voice, "Oh it's a wonderful show. The most talented actors from the greatest theater perform tonight for your delight! All it costs is one dime and a few moments of your time!"
The dragonoid thinks for a moment. "Well, I'm known to be stingy with my dimes. Hmmm..." he chuckles. "I'm much better at earning than spending, unfortunately. How about we barter? I can get you whatever you need. Goods are my specialty, but I can do services as well."
"You suggest a trade? Name your wares and it shall be made." He strut steps forward before snapping still and bending over by the waist with both hands behind his back, examining you store of goods.
He fixes his grinning face on you and speaks in a loud, cheerful voice, "Oh it's a wonderful show. The most talented actors from the greatest theater perform tonight for your delight! All it costs is one dime and a few moments of your time!"
The dragonoid thinks for a moment. "Well, I'm known to be stingy with my dimes. Hmmm..." he chuckles. "I'm much better at earning than spending, unfortunately. How about we barter? I can get you whatever you need. Goods are my specialty, but I can do services as well."
"You suggest a trade? Name your wares and it shall be made." He strut steps forward before snapping still and bending over by the waist with both hands behind his back, examining you store of goods.
Almost everything here is illegal, even the edible stuff. Pickled livers that grant damage immunities, live crabs that, when cooked properly, provide damage reduction, swords from ancient empires, tomes from the same... dark, dark things. Nearly everything here can be lethal if not treated properly. The half-dragon offers a large, fine cigar. "Anything catch your eye?"
(You can make something up and I'll come up with a story if you'd like.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He fixes his grinning face on you and speaks in a loud, cheerful voice, "Oh it's a wonderful show. The most talented actors from the greatest theater perform tonight for your delight! All it costs is one dime and a few moments of your time!"
The dragonoid thinks for a moment. "Well, I'm known to be stingy with my dimes. Hmmm..." he chuckles. "I'm much better at earning than spending, unfortunately. How about we barter? I can get you whatever you need. Goods are my specialty, but I can do services as well."
"You suggest a trade? Name your wares and it shall be made." He strut steps forward before snapping still and bending over by the waist with both hands behind his back, examining you store of goods.
Almost everything here is illegal, even the edible stuff. Pickled livers that grant damage immunities, live crabs that, when cooked properly, provide damage reduction, swords from ancient empires, tomes from the same... dark, dark things. Nearly everything here can be lethal if not treated properly. The half-dragon offers a large, fine cigar. "Anything catch your eye?"
(You can make something up and I'll come up with a story if you'd like.)
He takes the cigar and sticks the end in the dark curve of his eye. When he removes it, it's lit and a stream of smoke rises out of the corner of his eye. The cigar is stuck between his grinning lips. "That pin. That crescent moon, silver pin. Tell me, what's its act?"
Almost everything here is illegal, even the edible stuff. Pickled livers that grant damage immunities, live crabs that, when cooked properly, provide damage reduction, swords from ancient empires, tomes from the same... dark, dark things. Nearly everything here can be lethal if not treated properly. The half-dragon offers a large, fine cigar. "Anything catch your eye?"
(You can make something up and I'll come up with a story if you'd like.)
He takes the cigar and sticks the end in the dark curve of his eye. When he removes it, it's lit and a stream of smoke rises out of the corner of his eye. The cigar is stuck between his grinning lips. "That pin. That crescent moon, silver pin. Tell me, what's its act?"
"Of course you would take notice of it. It belonged to a performer, after all. One of the greats. Pavlov Somnosum. He used it to hypnotize entire theaters. It doesn't put them to sleep, just suspends their disbelief while they can see it. You would walk in wearing a fake mustache and claim to be your own identical twin who can also fly and even a Marut out for your blood wouldn't bat an eye. Imaginary reality. Of course, it has a cost. It's no magical cost, but you start to... get bored. When everything works, you never improve. Never feel satisfied. If each wonderful show is handed to you, it becomes hollow. Pavlov tried to destroy the thing, but he did that with most of his creations. Wonderful artist, horrible artificer."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Almost everything here is illegal, even the edible stuff. Pickled livers that grant damage immunities, live crabs that, when cooked properly, provide damage reduction, swords from ancient empires, tomes from the same... dark, dark things. Nearly everything here can be lethal if not treated properly. The half-dragon offers a large, fine cigar. "Anything catch your eye?"
(You can make something up and I'll come up with a story if you'd like.)
He takes the cigar and sticks the end in the dark curve of his eye. When he removes it, it's lit and a stream of smoke rises out of the corner of his eye. The cigar is stuck between his grinning lips. "That pin. That crescent moon, silver pin. Tell me, what's its act?"
"Of course you would take notice of it. It belonged to a performer, after all. One of the greats. Pavlov Somnosum. He used it to hypnotize entire theaters. It doesn't put them to sleep, just suspends their disbelief while they can see it. You would walk in wearing a fake mustache and claim to be your own identical twin who can also fly and even a Marut out for your blood wouldn't bat an eye. Imaginary reality. Of course, it has a cost. It's no magical cost, but you start to... get bored. When everything works, you never improve. Never feel satisfied. If each wonderful show is handed to you, it becomes hollow. Pavlov tried to destroy the thing, but he did that with most of his creations. Wonderful artist, horrible artificer."
Something behind his masked eye gleams. "What a bauble. Such a tremendous trinket. Horribly temptatiously so. I'll take it, and in return I grant you entry for one show." He gestures back at the doors to the theater and the light bulbs that adorn the walls and ceiling flash in a coordinated rhythm, flowing radiance into the hall of entertainment.
Alacreus is chasing a terrified squirrel, running circles around it, not even touching it but causing such massive gusts of wind to pass by it starts floating.
Johnny Teatime and the cat parade is having a tea party at various tables, some of them playing chess or croquet on the field. Johnny is resting in his cup.
Zeon would race with Alacreus for a little while. He lasts an hour longer then last time before he has to stop the ace due to running out of energy.
Coronet would have some tea with the cat parade, letting them walk between her exposed ribcage as she is laying down and enjoying the little tea party.
Once the race is over, Alacreus stops next to Zeon, laying down and rolling over in the dirt.
Johnny wakes up and yawns, his feline eyes landin on Coronet. He meows adorably.
Zeon chuckles and pets him
Coronet looks down at Johnny with her ever present three headed grin. “Fabulous festivities, fine feline fellow!”
It suddenly jumps up and tries to hit Zeon’s book friend with its paw, at literal lightning speeds.
Thank you, dragon of Queen Tiamat. Would you like to join us for another festivity tomorrow? It meows, speaking telepathically. It rolls onto its back, still in its teacup, batting at its own nose, its motions not at all matching its words.
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He summons a tennis ball "You want to fetch boy?" He runs to the edge of the dome and throws as hard as he can, a solid distance.
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Etiam im librum scribo
Half a second later, there is a trail of flaming footprints leading from the ball back to Alacreus, who is sitting there, ball in mouth. They drop the ball.
"Okay, let me try this again." He throws with everything he has, using his aura to boost the distance even farther, an explosion of sound.
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Etiam im librum scribo
A food truck enters the dome. It has no tires, or even wheel wells. Instead, it hovers a couple inches off the ground on a cloud of lavender smoke. The vehicle is bright red and gold, incredibly faux-opulent. The sign on the side reads "Greasecure's Gluttonous Emporium." It stops after a while and opens up something like a camper van. The doors and awning are covered in hanging treats and toys, from swords to pickling livers to garlic. A lot of the stuff is outright forbidden in some parts of the world due to being too dangerous (for weapons) or difficult to prepare safely (for food).
A morbidly obese golden half-dragon in a jumpsuit, apron, and paper hat waddles to a place where he can see everything going on. His ruby eyes observe all the magical items, vittles, and of course, all the toys and big, soft beanbags for customers to lounge on. He seems satisfied, and sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the truck, holding a flyswatter in one hand.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Two seconds later, same thing. It drops the ball and barks happily.
"Oh my goodness. This is amazing, Lonely might have been right." He keeps throwing the ball for the dog.
What's life without a little war to spice things up? Anyone who worries about the little things should notice the bigger picture.
I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, The illumination, & The unnoticed influence.
Favorite games series: Dark Souls. Shirtless Solaire. Best best game series of all time: Paper Mario. Fight me about it.
Etiam im librum scribo
It keeps moving at incredible speeds, sometimes running around Jason in a blur a few times before dropping the ball.
*and I gotta go!*
*I have arrived.*
Tattered flyers flutter through the Dome like cast off autumn leaves. Each papery holler declares the presence of a never before seen, one of a kind, all new show called the Midnight Matinee.
The show can't be found no matter how hard you search the daylight hours but anyone at night can spot the radiant hum of an unfamiliar sight. A crumbling theater has appeared in a seldom traveled corner of the Dome. Ancient bulbs buzz under a shimmering sign that affirms that it is the very same show. Standing at the entrance is a well dressed ticket seller in a purple suit. His face is obscured by a crescent eyed comedy mask laughing at the world.
The food truck (introed just a bit ago) pulls up nearby, the half-dragon looking out the window at the ticket seller. He waves cheerily. "Heya, bud! What kinda show is this?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Zeon chuckles and pets him
Coronet looks down at Johnny with her ever present three headed grin. “Fabulous festivities, fine feline fellow!”
"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
He fixes his grinning face on you and speaks in a loud, cheerful voice, "Oh it's a wonderful show. The most talented actors from the greatest theater perform tonight for your delight! All it costs is one dime and a few moments of your time!"
The dragonoid thinks for a moment. "Well, I'm known to be stingy with my dimes. Hmmm..." he chuckles. "I'm much better at earning than spending, unfortunately. How about we barter? I can get you whatever you need. Goods are my specialty, but I can do services as well."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"You suggest a trade? Name your wares and it shall be made." He strut steps forward before snapping still and bending over by the waist with both hands behind his back, examining you store of goods.
Almost everything here is illegal, even the edible stuff. Pickled livers that grant damage immunities, live crabs that, when cooked properly, provide damage reduction, swords from ancient empires, tomes from the same... dark, dark things. Nearly everything here can be lethal if not treated properly. The half-dragon offers a large, fine cigar. "Anything catch your eye?"
(You can make something up and I'll come up with a story if you'd like.)
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He takes the cigar and sticks the end in the dark curve of his eye. When he removes it, it's lit and a stream of smoke rises out of the corner of his eye. The cigar is stuck between his grinning lips. "That pin. That crescent moon, silver pin. Tell me, what's its act?"
"Of course you would take notice of it. It belonged to a performer, after all. One of the greats. Pavlov Somnosum. He used it to hypnotize entire theaters. It doesn't put them to sleep, just suspends their disbelief while they can see it. You would walk in wearing a fake mustache and claim to be your own identical twin who can also fly and even a Marut out for your blood wouldn't bat an eye. Imaginary reality. Of course, it has a cost. It's no magical cost, but you start to... get bored. When everything works, you never improve. Never feel satisfied. If each wonderful show is handed to you, it becomes hollow. Pavlov tried to destroy the thing, but he did that with most of his creations. Wonderful artist, horrible artificer."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I’ll be back in about 40 minutes.*
*Alright, I gotta go.*
*Thanks for the RP!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Something behind his masked eye gleams. "What a bauble. Such a tremendous trinket. Horribly temptatiously so. I'll take it, and in return I grant you entry for one show." He gestures back at the doors to the theater and the light bulbs that adorn the walls and ceiling flash in a coordinated rhythm, flowing radiance into the hall of entertainment.
It suddenly jumps up and tries to hit Zeon’s book friend with its paw, at literal lightning speeds.
Thank you, dragon of Queen Tiamat. Would you like to join us for another festivity tomorrow? It meows, speaking telepathically. It rolls onto its back, still in its teacup, batting at its own nose, its motions not at all matching its words.