Dead, dry leaves flap like banners of surrender, stuck between the cracks of the pavement. The of the ground is parched and thirsty for the blood it once glutted upon. The deafening silence of stands that were once full of murderous screams and raucous laughter fill the arena.
There in the center of the arena you see a bright green and yellow shape. As out of place as a daisy growing in the depths of an open grave. A clown in a baggy green outfit with blooming flowerhead buttons juggles in the silent theater of death. His painted face doesn't seem to notice you and pokes out from the middle of a large, yellow, dandelion bloom. His fast-moving hands and feet protrude from flower petal ruffs and you notice a few silvery shapes floating smoothly about him, but they quickly disappear.
The divine glutton curiously approaches, not expecting anyone else to be in such a dilapidated place, so seemingly forgotten and distant. "What is this place?"
Without dropping the four balls that he keeps hurtling through the air in complicated patterns, the clown responds, "This is dead place is the September Colosseum. Long ago my people fought in this arena for the pleasure of the Autumn Court. Now I perform here for empty stands to honor their memory."
"I see... my deepest condolences." It responds, looking up at the empty rows of stands where a bloodthirsty crowd once stood. "And who are you?"
"I am the Poisson D'avril, the April Fish, the April Fool," He catches all four balls in a flourish. "One of the last of the Spring Court. Perhaps the last."
"Well met, Mr. Fool. I am Helianth." The flower rasps in response. "I take it the seasonal courts don't often get along?"
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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)
Dead, dry leaves flap like banners of surrender, stuck between the cracks of the pavement. The of the ground is parched and thirsty for the blood it once glutted upon. The deafening silence of stands that were once full of murderous screams and raucous laughter fill the arena.
There in the center of the arena you see a bright green and yellow shape. As out of place as a daisy growing in the depths of an open grave. A clown in a baggy green outfit with blooming flowerhead buttons juggles in the silent theater of death. His painted face doesn't seem to notice you and pokes out from the middle of a large, yellow, dandelion bloom. His fast-moving hands and feet protrude from flower petal ruffs and you notice a few silvery shapes floating smoothly about him, but they quickly disappear.
The divine glutton curiously approaches, not expecting anyone else to be in such a dilapidated place, so seemingly forgotten and distant. "What is this place?"
Without dropping the four balls that he keeps hurtling through the air in complicated patterns, the clown responds, "This is dead place is the September Colosseum. Long ago my people fought in this arena for the pleasure of the Autumn Court. Now I perform here for empty stands to honor their memory."
"I see... my deepest condolences." It responds, looking up at the empty rows of stands where a bloodthirsty crowd once stood. "And who are you?"
"I am the Poisson D'avril, the April Fish, the April Fool," He catches all four balls in a flourish. "One of the last of the Spring Court. Perhaps the last."
"Well met, Mr. Fool. I am Helianth." The flower rasps in response. "I take it the seasonal courts don't often get along?"
He bows, "Like four fish in a puddle-filled umbrella fighting for their right to the water. They forget that it has rained all day and all night. Plenty of puddles for everyone." He scratches his head, "I'm... not sure that makes any sense. I'm not sure if anything does." He drops the four balls in a pocket, " But you would know, wouldn't you? You look like something summer to me."
Dead, dry leaves flap like banners of surrender, stuck between the cracks of the pavement. The of the ground is parched and thirsty for the blood it once glutted upon. The deafening silence of stands that were once full of murderous screams and raucous laughter fill the arena.
There in the center of the arena you see a bright green and yellow shape. As out of place as a daisy growing in the depths of an open grave. A clown in a baggy green outfit with blooming flowerhead buttons juggles in the silent theater of death. His painted face doesn't seem to notice you and pokes out from the middle of a large, yellow, dandelion bloom. His fast-moving hands and feet protrude from flower petal ruffs and you notice a few silvery shapes floating smoothly about him, but they quickly disappear.
The divine glutton curiously approaches, not expecting anyone else to be in such a dilapidated place, so seemingly forgotten and distant. "What is this place?"
Without dropping the four balls that he keeps hurtling through the air in complicated patterns, the clown responds, "This is dead place is the September Colosseum. Long ago my people fought in this arena for the pleasure of the Autumn Court. Now I perform here for empty stands to honor their memory."
"I see... my deepest condolences." It responds, looking up at the empty rows of stands where a bloodthirsty crowd once stood. "And who are you?"
"I am the Poisson D'avril, the April Fish, the April Fool," He catches all four balls in a flourish. "One of the last of the Spring Court. Perhaps the last."
"Well met, Mr. Fool. I am Helianth." The flower rasps in response. "I take it the seasonal courts don't often get along?"
He bows, "Like four fish in a puddle-filled umbrella fighting for their right to the water. They forget that it has rained all day and all night. Plenty of puddles for everyone." He scratches his head, "I'm... not sure that makes any sense. I'm not sure if anything does." He drops the four balls in a pocket, " But you would know, wouldn't you? You look like something summer to me."
"Few things make sense in a place like this- I understood that just fine, though." It looks up at the artificial sun with a sense of disdain. "I am partial to summer myself, though I don't belong to any court. Just a connoisseur and a visionary, is all."
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)
"Few things make sense in a place like this- I understood that just fine, though." It looks up at the artificial sun with a sense of disdain. "I am partial to summer myself, though I don't belong to any court. Just a connoisseur and a visionary, is all."
"What is your vision, visionary?" He squints up at the sun after you, "Tell me your mission, missionary."
*Terrifying idea: Eating Disorder Paladin who wants to live vicariously through others to satiate T H E V O I C E S*
*Feeding people is his love language, but he's afraid of eating because once he does he can't stop until he literally can't continue. The Tasting Beast whispers to him, and he regards it with a mix of love and terror, only letting the monstrosity take control when he's out of options or is about to starve to death.*
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Few things make sense in a place like this- I understood that just fine, though." It looks up at the artificial sun with a sense of disdain. "I am partial to summer myself, though I don't belong to any court. Just a connoisseur and a visionary, is all."
"What is your vision, visionary?" He squints up at the sun after you, "Tell me your mission, missionary."
*Sorry I keep disappearing*
"I'm going to give this realm a new sun- a real sun- and crush the Autumn Court to make this place a land of eternal summertime and sunlight." It responds, stating it as if it were an irrefutable fact of what is going to happen. "This land is decaying- an eternally rotting corpse existing only to whet the appetites of vultures like the Autumn King. It's about time someone rid this place of the stench of death and allowed new life to grow and flourish, I think."
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 sunflower seems especially intrigued by the bright presence, a sense of hunger- minuscule in comparison to its previous eternal starvation, but still very much present- gnawing at the core of its being as it waits for the ritual's conclusion. It ventures a bit closer, not caring to be stealthy, but does not say anything or otherwise intervene.
The cultist reading from the book concludes the ritual by producing a silver dagger from her robes, and creating a tiny slash on her palm, splattering the blood on the rock. Helianth can feel the presence get stronger and stronger, they’re almost able to see it- three tiny lights swirling around the cultist, getting brighter and hotter- but it isn’t truly visible, they can simply sense it. It is divine in nature, clearly.
the cultist examines the splattering of blood, and looks to the other cultists. “Three days!” She exclaims, the divinity around her and the ritual fading. “Three days until the hunt.”
the cultists seem overjoyed at the news, and it takes a bit before any of them notice Helianth. The lead cultist, the woman with the rabbit mask, stares at Helianth quizzically.
*Sorry about the delay- I'm back now.*
Helianth resists the urge to consume the divine lights the moment they appear- even without its eternal starvation, its hunger knows no bounds, but indulging in it now would certainly upset the cultists. The towering sunflower of flesh and metal and stolen divine radiance stares back at them, before it speaks. "What is the hunt?" It asks, its voice a croaking baritone, soft spoken yet loud enough to be heard by all of them.
Suspicious, the high cultist grasps her silver dagger in one hand.
”the hunt for the Barley king, our god.”
The crooked god-eater does not seem threatened in the least by this gesture, but it still moves back a tiny bit upon seeing her reach for her blade, trying to make it clear that it has no intention of hostility.
"A hunt for a god? Intriguing. How do you find them once the hunt begins?" It asks with genuine curiosity.
“The Barley king will manifest somewhere within the Autumn country three days from now… we know not where, but our cult is expansive and the Autumn court helps us in our endeavor. We will find them soon after they appear. In addition, we have magic that can help us track down the King… who are you… and what are you?”
"I am Helianth- a nostalgic traveler, a connoisseur of the divine, and little else that is of importance to you." It responds, bowing slightly. Assuming these particular cultists were around in some capacity when Helianth was first here, they likely recognize the name- as well as its former goal. "Forgive me if this is a rather foolish question, but I must ask... why do you hunt down the Barley King?"
She frowns behind her mask. “That happens to be a secret of our Cult and of the Autumn Court… but is of vital importance, both to our cult, the Court, and all of the Country. folks across Autumn Country know that the Barley King- it must be caught.”
The crooked god-eater does not seem threatened in the least by this gesture, but it still moves back a tiny bit upon seeing her reach for her blade, trying to make it clear that it has no intention of hostility.
"A hunt for a god? Intriguing. How do you find them once the hunt begins?" It asks with genuine curiosity.
“The Barley king will manifest somewhere within the Autumn country three days from now… we know not where, but our cult is expansive and the Autumn court helps us in our endeavor. We will find them soon after they appear. In addition, we have magic that can help us track down the King… who are you… and what are you?”
"I am Helianth- a nostalgic traveler, a connoisseur of the divine, and little else that is of importance to you." It responds, bowing slightly. Assuming these particular cultists were around in some capacity when Helianth was first here, they likely recognize the name- as well as its former goal. "Forgive me if this is a rather foolish question, but I must ask... why do you hunt down the Barley King?"
She frowns behind her mask. “That happens to be a secret of our Cult and of the Autumn Court… but is of vital importance, both to our cult, the Court, and all of the Country. folks across Autumn Country know that the Barley King- it must be caught.”
"Understood- then I shall not pry on the matter further. I wouldn't want to interfere with such important work." It decides, knowing that it will absolutely be seeking that information out as soon as possible.
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 crooked god-eater does not seem threatened in the least by this gesture, but it still moves back a tiny bit upon seeing her reach for her blade, trying to make it clear that it has no intention of hostility.
"A hunt for a god? Intriguing. How do you find them once the hunt begins?" It asks with genuine curiosity.
“The Barley king will manifest somewhere within the Autumn country three days from now… we know not where, but our cult is expansive and the Autumn court helps us in our endeavor. We will find them soon after they appear. In addition, we have magic that can help us track down the King… who are you… and what are you?”
"I am Helianth- a nostalgic traveler, a connoisseur of the divine, and little else that is of importance to you." It responds, bowing slightly. Assuming these particular cultists were around in some capacity when Helianth was first here, they likely recognize the name- as well as its former goal. "Forgive me if this is a rather foolish question, but I must ask... why do you hunt down the Barley King?"
She frowns behind her mask. “That happens to be a secret of our Cult and of the Autumn Court… but is of vital importance, both to our cult, the Court, and all of the Country. folks across Autumn Country know that the Barley King- it must be caught.”
"Understood- then I shall not pry on the matter further. I wouldn't want to interfere with such important work." It decides, knowing that it will absolutely be seeking that information out as soon as possible.
The high cultist turns back to the ritual circle, using a piece of cloth to bandage the cut in her hand. The other cultists keep an eye on Helianth.
she turns back to look to the crooked flower. “What were you doing in these parts of the country?… this wheat field is a sacred place to the Barley king.”
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*Howdy, kinda.*
*How ya doin', Dark?*
*I'm thinking of making another sugar-themed character*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I’m doing well, how about you?*
*Sweet! There can always be more of those.*
*I have DnD in three hours and I'm excited. It's my first out-of-house game, even if it is a one-shot. I'm going to play a conquest paladin.*
*I'm thinking sugar boi is gonna be based on an old one-on-one campaign character, Gideon Shuemen. Probably going to keep the name too.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Well met, Mr. Fool. I am Helianth." The flower rasps in response. "I take it the seasonal courts don't often get along?"
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)
*That sounds fun. Conquest is an interesting choice.*
*Where or what do you think this character will be for?*
He bows, "Like four fish in a puddle-filled umbrella fighting for their right to the water. They forget that it has rained all day and all night. Plenty of puddles for everyone." He scratches his head, "I'm... not sure that makes any sense. I'm not sure if anything does." He drops the four balls in a pocket, " But you would know, wouldn't you? You look like something summer to me."
*Trust me, this is less evil than my last idea*
*I'm not sure. I might want to save the idea until I join a real campaign and know the rules.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I'm sure of it.*
*That's fair. Usually when I design a character without a campaign for them than I lose interest by the time a campaign opens up.*
"Few things make sense in a place like this- I understood that just fine, though." It looks up at the artificial sun with a sense of disdain. "I am partial to summer myself, though I don't belong to any court. Just a connoisseur and a visionary, is all."
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)
"What is your vision, visionary?" He squints up at the sun after you, "Tell me your mission, missionary."
*Terrifying idea: Eating Disorder Paladin who wants to live vicariously through others to satiate T H E V O I C E S*
*Feeding people is his love language, but he's afraid of eating because once he does he can't stop until he literally can't continue. The Tasting Beast whispers to him, and he regards it with a mix of love and terror, only letting the monstrosity take control when he's out of options or is about to starve to death.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Sorry I keep disappearing*
"I'm going to give this realm a new sun- a real sun- and crush the Autumn Court to make this place a land of eternal summertime and sunlight." It responds, stating it as if it were an irrefutable fact of what is going to happen. "This land is decaying- an eternally rotting corpse existing only to whet the appetites of vultures like the Autumn King. It's about time someone rid this place of the stench of death and allowed new life to grow and flourish, I think."
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)
*hello, everyone!*
*Hello again, mine good friend! How doth thee fare, and would you like to continue where we last left off?*
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 would simply love to! I am simply amazing, how art thou?*
She frowns behind her mask. “That happens to be a secret of our Cult and of the Autumn Court… but is of vital importance, both to our cult, the Court, and all of the Country. folks across Autumn Country know that the Barley King- it must be caught.”
*That's wonderful news! I'm doing great as well.*
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)
"Understood- then I shall not pry on the matter further. I wouldn't want to interfere with such important work." It decides, knowing that it will absolutely be seeking that information out as soon as possible.
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 high cultist turns back to the ritual circle, using a piece of cloth to bandage the cut in her hand. The other cultists keep an eye on Helianth.
she turns back to look to the crooked flower. “What were you doing in these parts of the country?… this wheat field is a sacred place to the Barley king.”