"Oh..." Feast whispers. They begin to cut up the deer and veggies, occasionally looking back at the bodies in the cart. As they load up the food into the cauldron, their hands are shaking. "I... need some water..." They walk away to the nearest body of water.
Voctus doesn't speak. He digs two holes, putting the woman in one and the child in the other. he then fills in the dirt and grabs two signs he ripped from the farmhouse, hammering the signs into the ground. Then he takes the knife he discarded earlier and etches names into the blank signs, first the child, then the woman:
Tai
Yuma
Voctus hears faint sobbing from near the river.
He sighs heavily, glancing at the dog, who he hasn't buried. He strokes the sheepdog's flank, feeling that it isn't fully frozen. Maybe he has a little hope.
He walks over to Feast. "No cry. You have no reason to be sad. They my family, not yours. We have stew to make."
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Hi, I'm hungry! I mean, I'm EJODM18604, but you can call me EJO.
As an avid League of Legends player, I main (And maybe potentially might could simp for) Aurora, the Witch between Worlds.
I'm active most weekends, but keep in mind I live in the BST timezone.
My Baalzeboopical title is The New Hunter! I have been proclaimed theArcane Oryctolagus By the great artificer Salem!
He sighs heavily, glancing at the dog, who he hasn't buried. He strokes the sheepdog's flank, feeling that it isn't fully frozen. Maybe he has a little hope.
He walks over to Feast. "No cry. You have no reason to be sad. They my family, not yours. We have stew to make."
"Everyone deserves... someone to cry for them... Even if they aren't here to see it..." They sniffle. They scoop up a pitcher's worth of water. "But you're right. I'll get back to work."
The sun-starved wretch, the dreaded Helianth, is continuing its research on the Barley King on the ritual tied to its demise- normally the ritual was meant to keep autumn eternal in this land, but if it were killed in another season... assuming the ritual still works, it's exactly what it needs for the plan. But even then, that's a long ways away... not that that matters. It's used to waiting decades for a chance like this- what's a few months more?
The newly-awakened Bonemason has found its way to one of the sprawling graveyards of the Autumn Country, and is eating more than its fill of cadavers and undead unfortunate enough to run into it. All the bones from its meal, though, are left almost entirely picked clean and are neatly collected and stored in the monster's ribcage. It still needs more before its work can begin, though, so it returns to hunting shortly after.
Adeline has spent a few days weaving together another project of hers, and now has stepped back to admire her handiwork. A large nest suspended ten feet above the forest floor, roughly as big as a camping tent, fashioned entirely from her own silk and connected to several nearby trees for supports. Her nest sits right on the border of the pit made for her future permanent home, which she has also been helping assemble.
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 sun-starved wretch, the dreaded Helianth, is continuing its research on the Barley King on the ritual tied to its demise- normally the ritual was meant to keep autumn eternal in this land, but if it were killed in another season... assuming the ritual still works, it's exactly what it needs for the plan. But even then, that's a long ways away... not that that matters. It's used to waiting decades for a chance like this- what's a few months more?
The newly-awakened Bonemason has found its way to one of the sprawling graveyards of the Autumn Country, and is eating more than its fill of cadavers and undead unfortunate enough to run into it. All the bones from its meal, though, are left almost entirely picked clean and are neatly collected and stored in the monster's ribcage. It still needs more before its work can begin, though, so it returns to hunting shortly after.
Adeline has spent a few days weaving together another project of hers, and now has stepped back to admire her handiwork. A large nest suspended ten feet above the forest floor, roughly as big as a camping tent, fashioned entirely from her own silk and connected to several nearby trees for supports. Her nest sits right on the border of the pit made for her future permanent home, which she has also been helping assemble.
*I'll give Helianth and Bonemason some attention. The Enbois. And of course, I must play the same character for each of them.*
There is a knock at the door.
During its hunt, the Bonemason discovers what looks to be a huge pile of pillows. Cheap, but heavily fluffed, laying in a heap on the ground. The sounds of bubbling oil and a sizzling deep fryer can be heard from the other side.
*I'll give Helianth and Bonemason some attention. The Enbois. And of course, I must play the same character for each of them.*
There is a knock at the door.
During its hunt, the Bonemason discovers what looks to be a huge pile of pillows. Cheap, but heavily fluffed, laying in a heap on the ground. The sounds of bubbling oil and a sizzling deep fryer can be heard from the other side.
The god-devouring husk stops its work at the sound, and there is the approaching sound of moving roots and metal towards the inside of the door. With a hiss of hydraulic pistons and the tearing of overgrown membranes, the door pulls itself open and Helianth pokes one of its flower heads through the new gap. "Hello there."
The gargantuan ghoul curiously approaches, its ancient bones clicking and sliding against each other as it nimbly crawls closer to find the sound's source. Stealth is not its specialty, but it's not really trying to be stealthy here.
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)
*I'll give Helianth and Bonemason some attention. The Enbois. And of course, I must play the same character for each of them.*
There is a knock at the door.
During its hunt, the Bonemason discovers what looks to be a huge pile of pillows. Cheap, but heavily fluffed, laying in a heap on the ground. The sounds of bubbling oil and a sizzling deep fryer can be heard from the other side.
The god-devouring husk stops its work at the sound, and there is the approaching sound of moving roots and metal towards the inside of the door. With a hiss of hydraulic pistons and the tearing of overgrown membranes, the door pulls itself open and Helianth pokes one of its flower heads through the new gap. "Hello there."
The gargantuan ghoul curiously approaches, its ancient bones clicking and sliding against each other as it nimbly crawls closer to find the sound's source. Stealth is not its specialty, but it's not really trying to be stealthy here.
On the other side is a little Strugel, with pink markings and rubber gloves, as well as cute little glasses and an oil-splattered apron. He's holding a dish of fried and breaded shrimp. "Hello!" He seems completely calm despite the horror before him. "I'm new to the neighborhood," he says as if there were any villages left within about a mile, "and I wanted to give you a little gift!" He holds out the shrimp as if Helianth weren't an enormous flower.
On the other side of the pillows is the Strugel described above, frying something on a portable kerosene stove. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to the ghoul prince, just cooking. After a couple second, he scoops out the unidentifiable parts and sets them out to drain. He sits down on the pillows and leans back before turning to smile at the Bonemason. "Hi!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
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He sighs heavily, glancing at the dog, who he hasn't buried. He strokes the sheepdog's flank, feeling that it isn't fully frozen. Maybe he has a little hope.
He walks over to Feast. "No cry. You have no reason to be sad. They my family, not yours. We have stew to make."
Hi, I'm hungry! I mean, I'm EJODM18604, but you can call me EJO.
As an avid League of Legends player, I main (And maybe potentially might could simp for) Aurora, the Witch between Worlds.
I'm active most weekends, but keep in mind I live in the BST timezone.
My Baalzeboopical title is The New Hunter! I have been proclaimed the Arcane Oryctolagus By the great artificer Salem!
"Everyone deserves... someone to cry for them... Even if they aren't here to see it..." They sniffle. They scoop up a pitcher's worth of water. "But you're right. I'll get back to work."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Gooooood afternoon, everyone!*
The sun-starved wretch, the dreaded Helianth, is continuing its research on the Barley King on the ritual tied to its demise- normally the ritual was meant to keep autumn eternal in this land, but if it were killed in another season... assuming the ritual still works, it's exactly what it needs for the plan. But even then, that's a long ways away... not that that matters. It's used to waiting decades for a chance like this- what's a few months more?
The newly-awakened Bonemason has found its way to one of the sprawling graveyards of the Autumn Country, and is eating more than its fill of cadavers and undead unfortunate enough to run into it. All the bones from its meal, though, are left almost entirely picked clean and are neatly collected and stored in the monster's ribcage. It still needs more before its work can begin, though, so it returns to hunting shortly after.
Adeline has spent a few days weaving together another project of hers, and now has stepped back to admire her handiwork. A large nest suspended ten feet above the forest floor, roughly as big as a camping tent, fashioned entirely from her own silk and connected to several nearby trees for supports. Her nest sits right on the border of the pit made for her future permanent home, which she has also been helping assemble.
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'll give Helianth and Bonemason some attention. The Enbois. And of course, I must play the same character for each of them.*
There is a knock at the door.
During its hunt, the Bonemason discovers what looks to be a huge pile of pillows. Cheap, but heavily fluffed, laying in a heap on the ground. The sounds of bubbling oil and a sizzling deep fryer can be heard from the other side.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
The god-devouring husk stops its work at the sound, and there is the approaching sound of moving roots and metal towards the inside of the door. With a hiss of hydraulic pistons and the tearing of overgrown membranes, the door pulls itself open and Helianth pokes one of its flower heads through the new gap. "Hello there."
The gargantuan ghoul curiously approaches, its ancient bones clicking and sliding against each other as it nimbly crawls closer to find the sound's source. Stealth is not its specialty, but it's not really trying to be stealthy here.
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)
On the other side is a little Strugel, with pink markings and rubber gloves, as well as cute little glasses and an oil-splattered apron. He's holding a dish of fried and breaded shrimp. "Hello!" He seems completely calm despite the horror before him. "I'm new to the neighborhood," he says as if there were any villages left within about a mile, "and I wanted to give you a little gift!" He holds out the shrimp as if Helianth weren't an enormous flower.
On the other side of the pillows is the Strugel described above, frying something on a portable kerosene stove. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to the ghoul prince, just cooking. After a couple second, he scoops out the unidentifiable parts and sets them out to drain. He sits down on the pillows and leans back before turning to smile at the Bonemason. "Hi!"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels