"They are more insane than I have ever been, turning me into a machine for their amusement." His joints seem to unnaturally collapse to make getting through the tunnel slightly easier, the spiderwebs stuck on the screen, his eye rapidly blinking as he watches the spiders, very very angry.
You the sound of some objects being shoved out of the way and falling to the floor and dim light pokes into the passageway. Soon the clown is out and then so are you. You find yourself standing in a hall of shelves with books like bricks, forming a dense labyrinth of writings. You have crawled out from the bottom shelf of one of the shelves and the April Fish is quickly putting the books back in place, "The Librarian wouldn't like it if he found his books on the floor."
"They are more insane than I have ever been, turning me into a machine for their amusement." His joints seem to unnaturally collapse to make getting through the tunnel slightly easier, the spiderwebs stuck on the screen, his eye rapidly blinking as he watches the spiders, very very angry.
You the sound of some objects being shoved out of the way and falling to the floor and dim light pokes into the passageway. Soon the clown is out and then so are you. You find yourself standing in a hall of shelves with books like bricks, forming a dense labyrinth of writings. You have crawled out from the bottom shelf of one of the shelves and the April Fish is quickly putting the books back in place, "The Librarian wouldn't like it if he found his books on the floor."
He helps them along, looking at the books along the way, curious to see what this library may have, what section they are in, memorizing everything he sees, for what reasons, no one but him would know.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
*Ah, the Autumn Country. It fills my heart with joy to see it make an at the very least partial return. Now, let's bring back an old friend, shall we?*
There is a quiet humming throughout the land of eternal autumn- one that is more so felt than heard. It grows in volume, in intensity, seemingly coming from above and in every direction at once. The sound grows louder, louder, like a dragon's roar that does not end, only ever getting louder, getting closer. The trees shudder. The swaying fields hiss. The wind screams. Even the very light of the ever-setting sun seems to cower in fear of what it knows is returning. Something wicked this way comes. Just when it seems the sound cannot possibly get any louder, the quaking cannot possibly grow more intense without rending the earth...
There is a crash. A cacophony of shattered space and torn reality as a hole is punched in the sky above, and a dark shape descends from it. The hole in reality quickly patches itself up behind the descending vessel. A modified nautiloid Spelljammer, an amalgam of flesh and metal and bone, innumerable arcane symbols carved along its shell's whorl that glow with the warm light of a rising sun. The monstrous ship descends, landing within an already flattened patch in the middle of a valley of hissing corn. The same place that ship lied before it found it.
It is here. And now, none are safe.
Several goblins and ghosts peek from the shadows but only one lurker has the courage (or lack of self-preservation) to approach. Out of an unfilled grave creeps a bug-eyed ghoul with two yellow teethed mouths on his face. He creeps forward on long spidery limbs and fork hangs around his neck on a loop of twine.
The doors of the ship hiss as they open with the grisly sound of bone grinding against metal. Steam pours forth from the open entrance, and a gleaming golden light can be seen within. Leaving the ship soon after, moving with slow but deliberate motions, is... oh gods... what is that thing? It's even more wretched, more crooked, more monstrous than it was before. The being moves with a slithering motion, its lower half of coiled flesh and metal and desiccated plant matter resembling the skeletal tail of some eel or serpent, and a mass of unraveling roots at its tip. Its lower and upper halves are not connected, the ends of each branching into root like structures enveloping a gleaming, roiling radiance- like a miniature star- cradling it as if they were hands. The monster has its top half coiled up into itself, and various appendages extend from the loosely knotted stem. Four rail-thin, unnaturally long arms with elongated hands and fingers with far too many joints. A pair of great wings, adorned in metal blades resembling feathers. Nine 'sunflower' heads- rings of this twisted matter adorned in jagged spokes and thorns along their outer rims, at the center of each being a sphere of utter oblivion and darkness.
Helianth, the Angel of Emptiness, the Divine Glutton, the Crooked Scourge of the Stars, is here. It looks down at the one courageous (or foolish) ghoul, stopping a few feet away from it. It speaks from no mouth, and yet a voice bellows a question- a voice soft-spoken in tone, yet loud enough to be heard by all around the ship.
"Tell me... is this the land of eternal autumn?"
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)
Moonlight white, white like eyes, You have seen too much tonight...
A train has arrived in the Autumn Country in a burst of brimstone. It is black and gold and red all over, and on its side are the words "The Devil Rail, by Ferry Railroad Co." Many tortured souls rush out the door, but one lingers behind for a bit. An uncanny, pitiful-looking young man in fine clothes who smells like brewing coffee and baking cookies. He looks around with his dark, too-large eyes set into his too-white face, his plump lips parted slightly to reveal his perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.
People seem to be trying to help him with every little thing, treating him like royalty despite his faintly inhuman features. His eyes are filled with gratitude and gentleness, his spectacles and dark hair complementing his strangeness. After everyone has cleared out, he sits at the station and opens his briefcase, revealing it to be crammed full of apples and carefully organized measuring equipment. He checks each apple and takes notes on their size, colors, worminess, and innumerable other mostly irrelevant factors.
"They are more insane than I have ever been, turning me into a machine for their amusement." His joints seem to unnaturally collapse to make getting through the tunnel slightly easier, the spiderwebs stuck on the screen, his eye rapidly blinking as he watches the spiders, very very angry.
You the sound of some objects being shoved out of the way and falling to the floor and dim light pokes into the passageway. Soon the clown is out and then so are you. You find yourself standing in a hall of shelves with books like bricks, forming a dense labyrinth of writings. You have crawled out from the bottom shelf of one of the shelves and the April Fish is quickly putting the books back in place, "The Librarian wouldn't like it if he found his books on the floor."
He helps them along, looking at the books along the way, curious to see what this library may have, what section they are in, memorizing everything he sees, for what reasons, no one but him would know.
You see books entitled, Tawny Heron by Hirinimus Stoh, The Hearings of the Ear by Van Gogh, and Last Songs of the Windward Heart by Servile Henderson.
Then you hear a quiet snapping sound, "It is typically customary to enter through the front door." says a terse voice from behind, "You turn to see a tall, thin man in a tweed suit standing behind you. Perched on one shoulder is a small, brown sparrow. His hair is long and unkempt but his balding has exposed his forehead and keeps the hair from getting close to his face. On his beak thin nose are large, round, spectacles.
"They are more insane than I have ever been, turning me into a machine for their amusement." His joints seem to unnaturally collapse to make getting through the tunnel slightly easier, the spiderwebs stuck on the screen, his eye rapidly blinking as he watches the spiders, very very angry.
You the sound of some objects being shoved out of the way and falling to the floor and dim light pokes into the passageway. Soon the clown is out and then so are you. You find yourself standing in a hall of shelves with books like bricks, forming a dense labyrinth of writings. You have crawled out from the bottom shelf of one of the shelves and the April Fish is quickly putting the books back in place, "The Librarian wouldn't like it if he found his books on the floor."
He helps them along, looking at the books along the way, curious to see what this library may have, what section they are in, memorizing everything he sees, for what reasons, no one but him would know.
You see books entitled, Tawny Heron by Hirinimus Stoh, The Hearings of the Ear by Van Gogh, and Last Songs of the Windward Heart by Servile Henderson.
Then you hear a quiet snapping sound, "It is typically customary to enter through the front door." says a terse voice from behind, "You turn to see a tall, thin man in a tweed suit standing behind you. Perched on one shoulder is a small, brown sparrow. His hair is long and unkempt but his balding has exposed his forehead and keeps the hair from getting close to his face. On his beak thin nose are large, round, spectacles.
He keeps in mind to go and take some of those later, turning back to look at the voice of the sparrow, his blinking eye focusing on them, becoming more pixalated at the eye becomes immediately aware of them. He walks over to the person the sparrow is perched on, "That wasn't a choice I made, unfortunately, I would've preferred the front door."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
*Ah, the Autumn Country. It fills my heart with joy to see it make an at the very least partial return. Now, let's bring back an old friend, shall we?*
There is a quiet humming throughout the land of eternal autumn- one that is more so felt than heard. It grows in volume, in intensity, seemingly coming from above and in every direction at once. The sound grows louder, louder, like a dragon's roar that does not end, only ever getting louder, getting closer. The trees shudder. The swaying fields hiss. The wind screams. Even the very light of the ever-setting sun seems to cower in fear of what it knows is returning. Something wicked this way comes. Just when it seems the sound cannot possibly get any louder, the quaking cannot possibly grow more intense without rending the earth...
There is a crash. A cacophony of shattered space and torn reality as a hole is punched in the sky above, and a dark shape descends from it. The hole in reality quickly patches itself up behind the descending vessel. A modified nautiloid Spelljammer, an amalgam of flesh and metal and bone, innumerable arcane symbols carved along its shell's whorl that glow with the warm light of a rising sun. The monstrous ship descends, landing within an already flattened patch in the middle of a valley of hissing corn. The same place that ship lied before it found it.
It is here. And now, none are safe.
Several goblins and ghosts peek from the shadows but only one lurker has the courage (or lack of self-preservation) to approach. Out of an unfilled grave creeps a bug-eyed ghoul with two yellow teethed mouths on his face. He creeps forward on long spidery limbs and fork hangs around his neck on a loop of twine.
The doors of the ship hiss as they open with the grisly sound of bone grinding against metal. Steam pours forth from the open entrance, and a gleaming golden light can be seen within. Leaving the ship soon after, moving with slow but deliberate motions, is... oh gods... what is that thing? It's even more wretched, more crooked, more monstrous than it was before. The being moves with a slithering motion, its lower half of coiled flesh and metal and desiccated plant matter resembling the skeletal tail of some eel or serpent, and a mass of unraveling roots at its tip. Its lower and upper halves are not connected, the ends of each branching into root like structures enveloping a gleaming, roiling radiance- like a miniature star- cradling it as if they were hands. The monster has its top half coiled up into itself, and various appendages extend from the loosely knotted stem. Four rail-thin, unnaturally long arms with elongated hands and fingers with far too many joints. A pair of great wings, adorned in metal blades resembling feathers. Nine 'sunflower' heads- rings of this twisted matter adorned in jagged spokes and thorns along their outer rims, at the center of each being a sphere of utter oblivion and darkness.
Helianth, the Angel of Emptiness, the Divine Glutton, the Crooked Scourge of the Stars, is here. It looks down at the one courageous (or foolish) ghoul, stopping a few feet away from it. It speaks from no mouth, and yet a voice bellows a question- a voice soft-spoken in tone, yet loud enough to be heard by all around the ship.
"Tell me... is this the land of eternal autumn?"
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
"I see... so I remembered accurately, then. It's been so very long since I've been here." The crooked quasi-deity slithers past them, looking up at the sky- at the sun. "I'm mostly here to see what's changed- a journey spurred on by nostalgia. Though, I do have one other thing in mind..." It adds, still looking up at the sun, disdain in its voice for that last sentence. It's been tricked once before- never again.
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)
"They are more insane than I have ever been, turning me into a machine for their amusement." His joints seem to unnaturally collapse to make getting through the tunnel slightly easier, the spiderwebs stuck on the screen, his eye rapidly blinking as he watches the spiders, very very angry.
You the sound of some objects being shoved out of the way and falling to the floor and dim light pokes into the passageway. Soon the clown is out and then so are you. You find yourself standing in a hall of shelves with books like bricks, forming a dense labyrinth of writings. You have crawled out from the bottom shelf of one of the shelves and the April Fish is quickly putting the books back in place, "The Librarian wouldn't like it if he found his books on the floor."
He helps them along, looking at the books along the way, curious to see what this library may have, what section they are in, memorizing everything he sees, for what reasons, no one but him would know.
You see books entitled, Tawny Heron by Hirinimus Stoh, The Hearings of the Ear by Van Gogh, and Last Songs of the Windward Heart by Servile Henderson.
Then you hear a quiet snapping sound, "It is typically customary to enter through the front door." says a terse voice from behind, "You turn to see a tall, thin man in a tweed suit standing behind you. Perched on one shoulder is a small, brown sparrow. His hair is long and unkempt but his balding has exposed his forehead and keeps the hair from getting close to his face. On his beak thin nose are large, round, spectacles.
He keeps in mind to go and take some of those later, turning back to look at the voice of the sparrow, his blinking eye focusing on them, becoming more pixalated at the eye becomes immediately aware of them. He walks over to the person the sparrow is perched on, "That wasn't a choice I made, unfortunately, I would've preferred the front door."
The Librarian speaks, popping a knuckle with his long, knobby fingers, "It's too be expected if you choose a spring fool as your guide."
The April Fool smiles and does a little bow, "Always a pleasure to visit your rotting realm."
The Librarian cracks a finger, "Rotting... bah! What brings you to my halls?"
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
"I see... so I remembered accurately, then. It's been so very long since I've been here." The crooked quasi-deity slithers past them, looking up at the sky- at the sun. "I'm mostly here to see what's changed- a journey spurred on by nostalgia. Though, I do have one other thing in mind..." It adds, still looking up at the sun, disdain in its voice for that last sentence. It's been tricked once before- never again.
"In mind? -hick- mind?" He scuttles sideways a bit, snapping both sets of jaws.
The Librarian speaks, popping a knuckle with his long, knobby fingers, "It's too be expected if you choose a spring fool as your guide."
The April Fool smiles and does a little bow, "Always a pleasure to visit your rotting realm."
The Librarian cracks a finger, "Rotting... bah! What brings you to my halls?"
"I am here for information on where my true form lies, but you appear to be the slightest bit busy with stupid and petty squabbles between yourselves." He says bluntly.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
"I see... so I remembered accurately, then. It's been so very long since I've been here." The crooked quasi-deity slithers past them, looking up at the sky- at the sun. "I'm mostly here to see what's changed- a journey spurred on by nostalgia. Though, I do have one other thing in mind..." It adds, still looking up at the sun, disdain in its voice for that last sentence. It's been tricked once before- never again.
"In mind? -hick- mind?" He scuttles sideways a bit, snapping both sets of jaws.
"Yes... It's been autumn here for far too long, don't you think?" It laughs a bit to itself, not taking its gaze away from the sun above them. "I'm planning to turn back the clock, so to speak. A land of eternal summer sounds far more pleasant, and what better place to use as the foundation?"
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 Librarian speaks, popping a knuckle with his long, knobby fingers, "It's too be expected if you choose a spring fool as your guide."
The April Fool smiles and does a little bow, "Always a pleasure to visit your rotting realm."
The Librarian cracks a finger, "Rotting... bah! What brings you to my halls?"
"I am here for information on where my true form lies, but you appear to be the slightest bit busy with stupid and petty squabbles between yourselves." He says bluntly.
A thin, arched eyebrow rises over the rims of his spectacles. He is the sort that doesn't where glasses, he wears spectacles. "I'm sure you could find that information in these shelves... but I don't know if your metal body would last that long before rusting over." The bird on his shoulder flits up into the air. "Maybe I'll be to busy squabbling to aid your insolent self..."
The Librarian speaks, popping a knuckle with his long, knobby fingers, "It's too be expected if you choose a spring fool as your guide."
The April Fool smiles and does a little bow, "Always a pleasure to visit your rotting realm."
The Librarian cracks a finger, "Rotting... bah! What brings you to my halls?"
"I am here for information on where my true form lies, but you appear to be the slightest bit busy with stupid and petty squabbles between yourselves." He says bluntly.
A thin, arched eyebrow rises over the rims of his spectacles. He is the sort that doesn't where glasses, he wears spectacles. "I'm sure you could find that information in these shelves... but I don't know if your metal body would last that long before rusting over." The bird on his shoulder flits up into the air. "Maybe I'll be to busy squabbling to aid your insolent self..."
The eye becomes visibly more enraged for a moment before calming down "It seems that was my fate before you even spoke to me, Librarian." He speaks to them with the respect of someone who hates them, but in a professional way, "I am the professor, do you have a name?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
"I see... so I remembered accurately, then. It's been so very long since I've been here." The crooked quasi-deity slithers past them, looking up at the sky- at the sun. "I'm mostly here to see what's changed- a journey spurred on by nostalgia. Though, I do have one other thing in mind..." It adds, still looking up at the sun, disdain in its voice for that last sentence. It's been tricked once before- never again.
"In mind? -hick- mind?" He scuttles sideways a bit, snapping both sets of jaws.
"Yes... It's been autumn here for far too long, don't you think?" It laughs a bit to itself, not taking its gaze away from the sun above them. "I'm planning to turn back the clock, so to speak. A land of eternal summer sounds far more pleasant, and what better place to use as the foundation?"
The wind shifts and begins to gust about, sending the red leaves skittering across the ground. The ghoul's bulging eyes practically pop out of their sockets and both jaws drop open. "-hick- S-summer! -hick- Can't be done! -hick- Won't be done! -hick- Shan't be done!" He begins to back away from you.
The man with the strange features is sitting by the main road, facing away from it as he cradles an adult vulture in his arms, petting it and keeping it comfortable. People often stop and pet the hideous bird, feeding it scraps of meat despite being obviously afraid of it. The man doesn't force them to or offer the bird to them, doesn't even say a word unless prompted. But people just get it. They feel the warmth coming off him, even though he seems nervous around them.
Carrion feeders are gathering around him despite his smell being extremely pleasant to humanoids. Worms crawl up from the earth, crows fly down from the heavens, vultures circle overhead. People don't seem to be bothered by this increased presence, more focused on the smiling man with the strange friend.
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.
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
"I see... so I remembered accurately, then. It's been so very long since I've been here." The crooked quasi-deity slithers past them, looking up at the sky- at the sun. "I'm mostly here to see what's changed- a journey spurred on by nostalgia. Though, I do have one other thing in mind..." It adds, still looking up at the sun, disdain in its voice for that last sentence. It's been tricked once before- never again.
"In mind? -hick- mind?" He scuttles sideways a bit, snapping both sets of jaws.
"Yes... It's been autumn here for far too long, don't you think?" It laughs a bit to itself, not taking its gaze away from the sun above them. "I'm planning to turn back the clock, so to speak. A land of eternal summer sounds far more pleasant, and what better place to use as the foundation?"
*A real sun for a real sovereign, I see.*
*Also, is it weird that I think of Helianth as female despite it demonstrably not being that? It feels kind of disrespectful, but my brain just doesn't register it for some dumb reason*
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.
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
"I see... so I remembered accurately, then. It's been so very long since I've been here." The crooked quasi-deity slithers past them, looking up at the sky- at the sun. "I'm mostly here to see what's changed- a journey spurred on by nostalgia. Though, I do have one other thing in mind..." It adds, still looking up at the sun, disdain in its voice for that last sentence. It's been tricked once before- never again.
"In mind? -hick- mind?" He scuttles sideways a bit, snapping both sets of jaws.
"Yes... It's been autumn here for far too long, don't you think?" It laughs a bit to itself, not taking its gaze away from the sun above them. "I'm planning to turn back the clock, so to speak. A land of eternal summer sounds far more pleasant, and what better place to use as the foundation?"
The wind shifts and begins to gust about, sending the red leaves skittering across the ground. The ghoul's bulging eyes practically pop out of their sockets and both jaws drop open. "-hick- S-summer! -hick- Can't be done! -hick- Won't be done! -hick- Shan't be done!" He begins to back away from you.
It laughs a bit more. The light around it seems to dim as it does, the air growing colder. "I'll figure out a way- I always do, in the end. This place has been decaying, rotting, dying for ages. It's about time someone changed things up. And I'm going to start with the sun."
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 thin, arched eyebrow rises over the rims of his spectacles. He is the sort that doesn't where glasses, he wears spectacles. "I'm sure you could find that information in these shelves... but I don't know if your metal body would last that long before rusting over." The bird on his shoulder flits up into the air. "Maybe I'll be to busy squabbling to aid your insolent self..."
The eye becomes visibly more enraged for a moment before calming down "It seems that was my fate before you even spoke to me, Librarian." He speaks to them with the respect of someone who hates them, but in a professional way, "I am the professor, do you have a name?"
"Fate is for the foolish." He looks a little taken aback when you ask for his name, "My name... it has been a long while since someone has asked that of me. I have used many names of the long ages, but you may call me Gottfried."
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
"I see... so I remembered accurately, then. It's been so very long since I've been here." The crooked quasi-deity slithers past them, looking up at the sky- at the sun. "I'm mostly here to see what's changed- a journey spurred on by nostalgia. Though, I do have one other thing in mind..." It adds, still looking up at the sun, disdain in its voice for that last sentence. It's been tricked once before- never again.
"In mind? -hick- mind?" He scuttles sideways a bit, snapping both sets of jaws.
"Yes... It's been autumn here for far too long, don't you think?" It laughs a bit to itself, not taking its gaze away from the sun above them. "I'm planning to turn back the clock, so to speak. A land of eternal summer sounds far more pleasant, and what better place to use as the foundation?"
The wind shifts and begins to gust about, sending the red leaves skittering across the ground. The ghoul's bulging eyes practically pop out of their sockets and both jaws drop open. "-hick- S-summer! -hick- Can't be done! -hick- Won't be done! -hick- Shan't be done!" He begins to back away from you.
It laughs a bit more. The light around it seems to dim as it does, the air growing colder. "I'll figure out a way- I always do, in the end. This place has been decaying, rotting, dying for ages. It's about time someone changed things up. And I'm going to start with the sun."
"Not the rot -hick- we love the rot -hick- the rot is warm -hick the rot is succulent." He says in a despairing voice. His eyes dart towards the sky, "The -hick- sun? But there is no sun."
You the sound of some objects being shoved out of the way and falling to the floor and dim light pokes into the passageway. Soon the clown is out and then so are you. You find yourself standing in a hall of shelves with books like bricks, forming a dense labyrinth of writings. You have crawled out from the bottom shelf of one of the shelves and the April Fish is quickly putting the books back in place, "The Librarian wouldn't like it if he found his books on the floor."
He helps them along, looking at the books along the way, curious to see what this library may have, what section they are in, memorizing everything he sees, for what reasons, no one but him would know.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
The doors of the ship hiss as they open with the grisly sound of bone grinding against metal. Steam pours forth from the open entrance, and a gleaming golden light can be seen within. Leaving the ship soon after, moving with slow but deliberate motions, is... oh gods... what is that thing?
It's even more wretched, more crooked, more monstrous than it was before. The being moves with a slithering motion, its lower half of coiled flesh and metal and desiccated plant matter resembling the skeletal tail of some eel or serpent, and a mass of unraveling roots at its tip. Its lower and upper halves are not connected, the ends of each branching into root like structures enveloping a gleaming, roiling radiance- like a miniature star- cradling it as if they were hands. The monster has its top half coiled up into itself, and various appendages extend from the loosely knotted stem. Four rail-thin, unnaturally long arms with elongated hands and fingers with far too many joints. A pair of great wings, adorned in metal blades resembling feathers. Nine 'sunflower' heads- rings of this twisted matter adorned in jagged spokes and thorns along their outer rims, at the center of each being a sphere of utter oblivion and darkness.
Helianth, the Angel of Emptiness, the Divine Glutton, the Crooked Scourge of the Stars, is here. It looks down at the one courageous (or foolish) ghoul, stopping a few feet away from it. It speaks from no mouth, and yet a voice bellows a question- a voice soft-spoken in tone, yet loud enough to be heard by all around the ship.
"Tell me... is this the land of eternal autumn?"
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)
Moonlight white, white like eyes,
You have seen too much tonight...
A train has arrived in the Autumn Country in a burst of brimstone. It is black and gold and red all over, and on its side are the words "The Devil Rail, by Ferry Railroad Co." Many tortured souls rush out the door, but one lingers behind for a bit. An uncanny, pitiful-looking young man in fine clothes who smells like brewing coffee and baking cookies. He looks around with his dark, too-large eyes set into his too-white face, his plump lips parted slightly to reveal his perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.
People seem to be trying to help him with every little thing, treating him like royalty despite his faintly inhuman features. His eyes are filled with gratitude and gentleness, his spectacles and dark hair complementing his strangeness. After everyone has cleared out, he sits at the station and opens his briefcase, revealing it to be crammed full of apples and carefully organized measuring equipment. He checks each apple and takes notes on their size, colors, worminess, and innumerable other mostly irrelevant factors.
...World goes 'round, I'm the trypo-puppeteer!
Laugh along, I'm spreading holes!
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
You see books entitled, Tawny Heron by Hirinimus Stoh, The Hearings of the Ear by Van Gogh, and Last Songs of the Windward Heart by Servile Henderson.
Then you hear a quiet snapping sound, "It is typically customary to enter through the front door." says a terse voice from behind, "You turn to see a tall, thin man in a tweed suit standing behind you. Perched on one shoulder is a small, brown sparrow. His hair is long and unkempt but his balding has exposed his forehead and keeps the hair from getting close to his face. On his beak thin nose are large, round, spectacles.
He keeps in mind to go and take some of those later, turning back to look at the voice of the sparrow, his blinking eye focusing on them, becoming more pixalated at the eye becomes immediately aware of them. He walks over to the person the sparrow is perched on, "That wasn't a choice I made, unfortunately, I would've preferred the front door."
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
The ghoul's bulging eyes slip and slide across your form like soap in a bathtub. One mouth hiccups, the other speaks, "-hick- Autumn, yes... eternal -hick- ...we'll see... Why have -hick- you come here?"
"I see... so I remembered accurately, then. It's been so very long since I've been here." The crooked quasi-deity slithers past them, looking up at the sky- at the sun. "I'm mostly here to see what's changed- a journey spurred on by nostalgia. Though, I do have one other thing in mind..." It adds, still looking up at the sun, disdain in its voice for that last sentence. It's been tricked once before- never again.
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 Librarian speaks, popping a knuckle with his long, knobby fingers, "It's too be expected if you choose a spring fool as your guide."
The April Fool smiles and does a little bow, "Always a pleasure to visit your rotting realm."
The Librarian cracks a finger, "Rotting... bah! What brings you to my halls?"
"In mind? -hick- mind?" He scuttles sideways a bit, snapping both sets of jaws.
"I am here for information on where my true form lies, but you appear to be the slightest bit busy with stupid and petty squabbles between yourselves." He says bluntly.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
"Yes... It's been autumn here for far too long, don't you think?" It laughs a bit to itself, not taking its gaze away from the sun above them. "I'm planning to turn back the clock, so to speak. A land of eternal summer sounds far more pleasant, and what better place to use as the foundation?"
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 thin, arched eyebrow rises over the rims of his spectacles. He is the sort that doesn't where glasses, he wears spectacles. "I'm sure you could find that information in these shelves... but I don't know if your metal body would last that long before rusting over." The bird on his shoulder flits up into the air. "Maybe I'll be to busy squabbling to aid your insolent self..."
The eye becomes visibly more enraged for a moment before calming down "It seems that was my fate before you even spoke to me, Librarian." He speaks to them with the respect of someone who hates them, but in a professional way, "I am the professor, do you have a name?"
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
The wind shifts and begins to gust about, sending the red leaves skittering across the ground. The ghoul's bulging eyes practically pop out of their sockets and both jaws drop open. "-hick- S-summer! -hick- Can't be done! -hick- Won't be done! -hick- Shan't be done!" He begins to back away from you.
The man with the strange features is sitting by the main road, facing away from it as he cradles an adult vulture in his arms, petting it and keeping it comfortable. People often stop and pet the hideous bird, feeding it scraps of meat despite being obviously afraid of it. The man doesn't force them to or offer the bird to them, doesn't even say a word unless prompted. But people just get it. They feel the warmth coming off him, even though he seems nervous around them.
Carrion feeders are gathering around him despite his smell being extremely pleasant to humanoids. Worms crawl up from the earth, crows fly down from the heavens, vultures circle overhead. People don't seem to be bothered by this increased presence, more focused on the smiling man with the strange friend.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*A real sun for a real sovereign, I see.*
*Also, is it weird that I think of Helianth as female despite it demonstrably not being that? It feels kind of disrespectful, but my brain just doesn't register it for some dumb reason*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
It laughs a bit more. The light around it seems to dim as it does, the air growing colder. "I'll figure out a way- I always do, in the end. This place has been decaying, rotting, dying for ages. It's about time someone changed things up. And I'm going to start with the sun."
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)
"Fate is for the foolish." He looks a little taken aback when you ask for his name, "My name... it has been a long while since someone has asked that of me. I have used many names of the long ages, but you may call me Gottfried."
"Not the rot -hick- we love the rot -hick- the rot is warm -hick the rot is succulent." He says in a despairing voice. His eyes dart towards the sky, "The -hick- sun? But there is no sun."