*It seems Atticus just made things worse on every conceivable level at the cost of most of his power*
*Yep! Helianth's scheme didn't account for him trapping it in the Scrabble, but in the event it died... well, let's just say there was a reason it chose to ally with the undead queen first. :)*
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)
Something under the soil the freshly-filled grave stirs. The black earth quivers as it writhes beneath the surface. And then, for a few minutes... all is silent.
The undead slowly pulls itself up from the soil, filled with renewed purpose. Renewed hunger. Several decaying blooms of woven flesh and metal sprout forth from the titan's yellowed skull, a crooked stem snaking its way through the giant bones down towards the ribcage, inside of which a tangled briar of writhing roots lies. One crooked wing haphazardly extends from the giant's back, having slotted through the gaps in its ribs. It carries no light in its core, its flames stolen away with the rest of its split soul. The 'flowers' reaching out from its eye sockets and open jaws and the underside of its skull each ignite with a far dimmer light than they once carried, in dying, decaying shades of yellow and orange and red. The lights seethe with a quiet hatred, and a quiet hunger- not quite like the ceaseless starvation it once had, but still rather similar- compounded with another undying compulsion to feed.
The crooked ghoul is silent for a while, looking down towards Amina- its savior and friend. Then, it bows deeply before her, the giant lowering its thorn-riddled skull with utmost respect.
"...I cannot thank you enough." The giant rasps in a familiar voice- though it doesn't carry the previous clarity it had. It sounds hoarse and faint, like an animal struggling to breathe. "I shall fulfill my oath... my queen..."
Amina stares up at the risen horror her ancient eyes unblinking, "You have joined the number of the grave born. Born once more through death. Tell me, what is your name?"
It is silent for a while, as if not knowing the answer to that question. "...My... name... I don't suppose my old one is sufficient?.." It doesn't seem entirely sure how to answer her question.
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)
Amina stares up at the risen horror her ancient eyes unblinking, "You have joined the number of the grave born. Born once more through death. Tell me, what is your name?"
It is silent for a while, as if not knowing the answer to that question. "...My... name... I don't suppose my old one is sufficient?.." It doesn't seem entirely sure how to answer her question.
*It seems Atticus just made things worse on every conceivable level at the cost of most of his power*
*Yep! Helianth's scheme didn't account for him trapping it in the Scrabble, but in the event it died... well, let's just say there was a reason it chose to ally with the undead queen first. :)*
*Scrapple, actually. It's named after a dish that chops up organs into bits and congeals them into a solid shape.*
*Yeah, I need to bring in a new character sometime. Atticus is toast.*
*Maybe I'll bring in the character I was talking about before, with stats inspired by Illriggers...*
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.
*I had not expected that Helianth was going to die- that regeneration is vitally important to their tankiness. But it simply makes Things more interesting… Is Helianth’s new, undead form going to retain their previous power as an elder evil, or will that be kept by the trapped portion of them with Atticus?*
Amina stares up at the risen horror her ancient eyes unblinking, "You have joined the number of the grave born. Born once more through death. Tell me, what is your name?"
It is silent for a while, as if not knowing the answer to that question. "...My... name... I don't suppose my old one is sufficient?.." It doesn't seem entirely sure how to answer her question.
She smiles, "Are you the same thing as before?"
Again, silence for a few seconds. "...I don't think so, no... similar, perhaps..."
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 had not expected that Helianth was going to die- that regeneration is vitally important to their tankiness. But it simply makes Things more interesting… Is Helianth’s new, undead form going to retain their previous power as an elder evil, or will that be kept by the trapped portion of them with Atticus?*
*I think that its power as an Elder Evil is going to stay with that frenzying, smoldering part of itself locked away. Its status as a god- like the power that granted it- was stolen from the essences of those they actually belong to. This undead creation... it only carries a fragment of its former power, in addition to whatever strength this new existence grants it, but it does keep one thing that other part does not... its mind.*
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 had not expected that Helianth was going to die- that regeneration is vitally important to their tankiness. But it simply makes Things more interesting… Is Helianth’s new, undead form going to retain their previous power as an elder evil, or will that be kept by the trapped portion of them with Atticus?*
*I think that its power as an Elder Evil is going to stay with that frenzying, smoldering part of itself locked away. Its status as a god- like the power that granted it- was stolen from the essences of those they actually belong to. This undead creation... it only carries a fragment of its former power, in addition to whatever strength this new existence grants it, but it does keep one thing that other part does not... its mind.*
*how interesting! Wonder if they will ever reunite and become one again.*
Amina stares up at the risen horror her ancient eyes unblinking, "You have joined the number of the grave born. Born once more through death. Tell me, what is your name?"
It is silent for a while, as if not knowing the answer to that question. "...My... name... I don't suppose my old one is sufficient?.." It doesn't seem entirely sure how to answer her question.
She smiles, "Are you the same thing as before?"
Again, silence for a few seconds. "...I don't think so, no... similar, perhaps..."
"A shadow." There is a flash of delight in her eyes, "A shadow that has swallowed its master. You'll find your name in due time. Scrawled on some overlooked tombstone, perhaps. There are so many tombstones and my ghouls tell me that graves hold the finest delicacies. You must be hungry. Go and eat your fill. You'll need your strength for the task at hand."
Amina stares up at the risen horror her ancient eyes unblinking, "You have joined the number of the grave born. Born once more through death. Tell me, what is your name?"
It is silent for a while, as if not knowing the answer to that question. "...My... name... I don't suppose my old one is sufficient?.." It doesn't seem entirely sure how to answer her question.
She smiles, "Are you the same thing as before?"
Again, silence for a few seconds. "...I don't think so, no... similar, perhaps..."
"A shadow." There is a flash of delight in her eyes, "A shadow that has swallowed its master. You'll find your name in due time. Scrawled on some overlooked tombstone, perhaps. There are so many tombstones and my ghouls tell me that graves hold the finest delicacies. You must be hungry. Go and eat your fill. You'll need your strength for the task at hand."
"...I am... heh, it's been ages since I felt hunger like this..." It bows again, before starting to leave back to the Autumn Country to whet its appetite- finally, it thinks, it can broaden its palate beyond the spectrums of light. "Thank you, your highness... I shall not fail you..."
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)
*again, I just want to say that I utterly adore every single person on this thread, the story we have woven together, and the writing… the things you guys write are amazing, and inspiring, and deeply disturbing in the best, most beautiful way.*
*is anyone on who cares to roleplay something on a smaller scale? I have a new character I’d like to try out that won’t be directly related to the Hunt (for now) since my only other character is Julius, who’s part of the Autumn court and therefore inherently very involved.*
*again, I just want to say that I utterly adore every single person on this thread, the story we have woven together, and the writing… the things you guys write are amazing, and inspiring, and deeply disturbing in the best, most beautiful way.*
*is anyone on who cares to roleplay something on a smaller scale? I have a new character I’d like to try out that won’t be directly related to the Hunt (for now) since my only other character is Julius, who’s part of the Autumn court and therefore inherently very involved.*
*I agree! Y'all are amazing writers and I'm continually astounded by the story that has been unfolding.*
*again, I just want to say that I utterly adore every single person on this thread, the story we have woven together, and the writing… the things you guys write are amazing, and inspiring, and deeply disturbing in the best, most beautiful way.*
*is anyone on who cares to roleplay something on a smaller scale? I have a new character I’d like to try out that won’t be directly related to the Hunt (for now) since my only other character is Julius, who’s part of the Autumn court and therefore inherently very involved.*
*I agree! Y'all are amazing writers and I'm continually astounded by the story that has been unfolding.*
*I'd be up for it for at least a little while!*
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*It has been so far.*
Wading through the blanket of silk is the slender, brass body of the October Hare. He lifts his legs high in the air with each step with the sound of a spring coiling. He struggles to wipe away the strands of thread with his metallic paw before placing his foot down and repeating the process. He freezes when he spots you, "Ah, company! Would you spare a poor traveller some room at your fire?"
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*It has been so far.*
Wading through the blanket of silk is the slender, brass body of the October Hare. He lifts his legs high in the air with each step with the sound of a spring coiling. He struggles to wipe away the strands of thread with his metallic paw before placing his foot down and repeating the process. He freezes when he spots you, "Ah, company! Would you spare a poor traveller some room at your fire?"
The woman notices the October Hare and seems absolutely overjoyed. She stands up, making her way to the October Hare. “Hello! It’s been quite some time since i’ve had a visitor… of course, you are welcome to warm yourself at my fire…” she produces a walking cane from her robes- though she doesn’t seem to use it to walk, and uses it to clear a way in the silk for him to walk to the fire unimpeded. “I am terribly sorry about the mess-… my children come out every dusk to repair it…”
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*It has been so far.*
Wading through the blanket of silk is the slender, brass body of the October Hare. He lifts his legs high in the air with each step with the sound of a spring coiling. He struggles to wipe away the strands of thread with his metallic paw before placing his foot down and repeating the process. He freezes when he spots you, "Ah, company! Would you spare a poor traveller some room at your fire?"
The woman notices the October Hare and seems absolutely overjoyed. She stands up, making her way to the October Hare. “Hello! It’s been quite some time since i’ve had a visitor… of course, you are welcome to warm yourself at my fire…” she produces a walking cane from her robes- though she doesn’t seem to use it to walk, and uses it to clear a way in the silk for him to walk to the fire unimpeded. “I am terribly sorry about the mess-… my children come out every dusk to repair it…”
"I cannot thank you enough." He pads through the cleared path on all fours, "Your children?" He looks up at the cocoons in the branches, "Does that have something to do with your unusual ornamentation?"
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*It has been so far.*
Wading through the blanket of silk is the slender, brass body of the October Hare. He lifts his legs high in the air with each step with the sound of a spring coiling. He struggles to wipe away the strands of thread with his metallic paw before placing his foot down and repeating the process. He freezes when he spots you, "Ah, company! Would you spare a poor traveller some room at your fire?"
The woman notices the October Hare and seems absolutely overjoyed. She stands up, making her way to the October Hare. “Hello! It’s been quite some time since i’ve had a visitor… of course, you are welcome to warm yourself at my fire…” she produces a walking cane from her robes- though she doesn’t seem to use it to walk, and uses it to clear a way in the silk for him to walk to the fire unimpeded. “I am terribly sorry about the mess-… my children come out every dusk to repair it…”
"I cannot thank you enough." He pads through the cleared path on all fours, "Your children?" He looks up at the cocoons in the branches, "Does that have something to do with your unusual ornamentation?"
She sits back down on the branch, offering him a seat next to her. “Well… I am their mother, and therefore they are my children. All beasts that spin silk are my children… that makes me Mother Moth.” She smiles sheepishly. The October Hare can roll a history or Arcana check if they wish.
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*It has been so far.*
Wading through the blanket of silk is the slender, brass body of the October Hare. He lifts his legs high in the air with each step with the sound of a spring coiling. He struggles to wipe away the strands of thread with his metallic paw before placing his foot down and repeating the process. He freezes when he spots you, "Ah, company! Would you spare a poor traveller some room at your fire?"
The woman notices the October Hare and seems absolutely overjoyed. She stands up, making her way to the October Hare. “Hello! It’s been quite some time since i’ve had a visitor… of course, you are welcome to warm yourself at my fire…” she produces a walking cane from her robes- though she doesn’t seem to use it to walk, and uses it to clear a way in the silk for him to walk to the fire unimpeded. “I am terribly sorry about the mess-… my children come out every dusk to repair it…”
"I cannot thank you enough." He pads through the cleared path on all fours, "Your children?" He looks up at the cocoons in the branches, "Does that have something to do with your unusual ornamentation?"
She sits back down on the branch, offering him a seat next to her. “Well… I am their mother, and therefore they are my children. All beasts that spin silk are my children… that makes me Mother Moth.” She smiles sheepishly. The October Hare can roll a history or Arcana check if they wish.
20 History
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mother Moth. Yes, a pleasure." He says as he takes his seat. "I myself am the October Hare. You certainly have an impressive family."
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*It has been so far.*
Wading through the blanket of silk is the slender, brass body of the October Hare. He lifts his legs high in the air with each step with the sound of a spring coiling. He struggles to wipe away the strands of thread with his metallic paw before placing his foot down and repeating the process. He freezes when he spots you, "Ah, company! Would you spare a poor traveller some room at your fire?"
The woman notices the October Hare and seems absolutely overjoyed. She stands up, making her way to the October Hare. “Hello! It’s been quite some time since i’ve had a visitor… of course, you are welcome to warm yourself at my fire…” she produces a walking cane from her robes- though she doesn’t seem to use it to walk, and uses it to clear a way in the silk for him to walk to the fire unimpeded. “I am terribly sorry about the mess-… my children come out every dusk to repair it…”
"I cannot thank you enough." He pads through the cleared path on all fours, "Your children?" He looks up at the cocoons in the branches, "Does that have something to do with your unusual ornamentation?"
She sits back down on the branch, offering him a seat next to her. “Well… I am their mother, and therefore they are my children. All beasts that spin silk are my children… that makes me Mother Moth.” She smiles sheepishly. The October Hare can roll a history or Arcana check if they wish.
17 History
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mother Moth. Yes, a pleasure." He says as he takes his seat. "I myself am the October Hare. You certainly have an impressive family."
He recognizes the title of Mother Moth-… it’s an old, old name. It’s associated with traditional prayers and rituals regarding the Moonlit court- a rather large court of the Unseelie fey, ruled by the mad Moonlit King. Mother Moth- whether this Mother Moth or another Mother Moth- is rumored to not only be one of the oldest members of the court- but also the mother of the Moonlit king. Her Dappled Majesty, Queen Mother of Moonlight-… until Mother Moth lost favor In the court eight hundred or so years back. She hasn’t had a single ounce of sway in that court since, and faded into irrelevance. Perhaps this is that Mother Moth, or perhaps not.
”Why, you are very kind… I care for all of them, and they care for me… they are in hibernation this very moment- the Moths, at least. My other children thrive in the Autumn Country.”
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*It has been so far.*
Wading through the blanket of silk is the slender, brass body of the October Hare. He lifts his legs high in the air with each step with the sound of a spring coiling. He struggles to wipe away the strands of thread with his metallic paw before placing his foot down and repeating the process. He freezes when he spots you, "Ah, company! Would you spare a poor traveller some room at your fire?"
The woman notices the October Hare and seems absolutely overjoyed. She stands up, making her way to the October Hare. “Hello! It’s been quite some time since i’ve had a visitor… of course, you are welcome to warm yourself at my fire…” she produces a walking cane from her robes- though she doesn’t seem to use it to walk, and uses it to clear a way in the silk for him to walk to the fire unimpeded. “I am terribly sorry about the mess-… my children come out every dusk to repair it…”
"I cannot thank you enough." He pads through the cleared path on all fours, "Your children?" He looks up at the cocoons in the branches, "Does that have something to do with your unusual ornamentation?"
She sits back down on the branch, offering him a seat next to her. “Well… I am their mother, and therefore they are my children. All beasts that spin silk are my children… that makes me Mother Moth.” She smiles sheepishly. The October Hare can roll a history or Arcana check if they wish.
17 History
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mother Moth. Yes, a pleasure." He says as he takes his seat. "I myself am the October Hare. You certainly have an impressive family."
He recognizes the title of Mother Moth-… it’s an old, old name. It’s associated with traditional prayers and rituals regarding the Moonlit court- a rather large court of the Unseelie fey, ruled by the mad Moonlit King. Mother Moth- whether this Mother Moth or another Mother Moth- is rumored to not only be one of the oldest members of the court- but also the mother of the Moonlit king. Her Dappled Majesty, Queen Mother of Moonlight-… until Mother Moth lost favor In the court eight hundred or so years back. She hasn’t had a single ounce of sway in that court since, and faded into irrelevance. Perhaps this is that Mother Moth, or perhaps not.
”Why, you are very kind… I care for all of them, and they care for me… they are in hibernation this very moment- the Moths, at least. My other children thrive in the Autumn Country.”
"Do they now? Who are these thriving ones?" As he speaks he procures a small cloth bundle. In it is a tea kettle, some tea cups, a few spoons and dishes, and tea leaves. "You don't mind if I brew a pot do you? It's almost tea time."
*Yep! Helianth's scheme didn't account for him trapping it in the Scrabble, but in the event it died... well, let's just say there was a reason it chose to ally with the undead queen first. :)*
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)
It is silent for a while, as if not knowing the answer to that question. "...My... name... I don't suppose my old one is sufficient?.." It doesn't seem entirely sure how to answer her question.
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)
She smiles, "Are you the same thing as before?"
*Scrapple, actually. It's named after a dish that chops up organs into bits and congeals them into a solid shape.*
*Yeah, I need to bring in a new character sometime. Atticus is toast.*
*Maybe I'll bring in the character I was talking about before, with stats inspired by Illriggers...*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I had not expected that Helianth was going to die- that regeneration is vitally important to their tankiness. But it simply makes Things more interesting… Is Helianth’s new, undead form going to retain their previous power as an elder evil, or will that be kept by the trapped portion of them with Atticus?*
Again, silence for a few seconds. "...I don't think so, no... similar, perhaps..."
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 think that its power as an Elder Evil is going to stay with that frenzying, smoldering part of itself locked away. Its status as a god- like the power that granted it- was stolen from the essences of those they actually belong to. This undead creation... it only carries a fragment of its former power, in addition to whatever strength this new existence grants it, but it does keep one thing that other part does not... its mind.*
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)
*how interesting! Wonder if they will ever reunite and become one again.*
"A shadow." There is a flash of delight in her eyes, "A shadow that has swallowed its master. You'll find your name in due time. Scrawled on some overlooked tombstone, perhaps. There are so many tombstones and my ghouls tell me that graves hold the finest delicacies. You must be hungry. Go and eat your fill. You'll need your strength for the task at hand."
"...I am... heh, it's been ages since I felt hunger like this..." It bows again, before starting to leave back to the Autumn Country to whet its appetite- finally, it thinks, it can broaden its palate beyond the spectrums of light. "Thank you, your highness... I shall not fail you..."
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)
*again, I just want to say that I utterly adore every single person on this thread, the story we have woven together, and the writing… the things you guys write are amazing, and inspiring, and deeply disturbing in the best, most beautiful way.*
*is anyone on who cares to roleplay something on a smaller scale? I have a new character I’d like to try out that won’t be directly related to the Hunt (for now) since my only other character is Julius, who’s part of the Autumn court and therefore inherently very involved.*
*I agree! Y'all are amazing writers and I'm continually astounded by the story that has been unfolding.*
*I'd be up for it for at least a little while!*
*the story of this thread is legendary, and I’m overjoyed I’m able to play such a big part in it with the Barley King, I hope this arc is fun for y’all :>*
far off in the Autumn Country, a ways away from All the madness and bustle of the wild hunt for the King, nestled deep in a cozy part of an old forest, a woman sits on a thick, low hanging branch of an ancient oak, in front of a smoldering fire. She weaves a long white scarf in her hands, out of pure, fine silken thread. She is wrapped in layer after layer of silver robes and flowing fabrics, making her seem larger than she truly is. Her hair is graying, her face is wrinkled with age, and though only her forearms are exposed due to her folded sleeve, it is apparent she is deathly thin. A necklace hangs on her neck, simple silk thread and three rings. Engagement rings.
in the surrounding trees, dozens-… no, hundreds- no, thousands of cocooned moths lie dormant, waiting to hatch. The ground is covered in a thin layer of silk, not adhesive, but it blankets the area for nearly a hundred feet around her- it doesn’t catch fire, however, despite being dangerously close to an exposed flame in the campfire the woman is sitting next to.
*It has been so far.*
Wading through the blanket of silk is the slender, brass body of the October Hare. He lifts his legs high in the air with each step with the sound of a spring coiling. He struggles to wipe away the strands of thread with his metallic paw before placing his foot down and repeating the process. He freezes when he spots you, "Ah, company! Would you spare a poor traveller some room at your fire?"
The woman notices the October Hare and seems absolutely overjoyed. She stands up, making her way to the October Hare. “Hello! It’s been quite some time since i’ve had a visitor… of course, you are welcome to warm yourself at my fire…” she produces a walking cane from her robes- though she doesn’t seem to use it to walk, and uses it to clear a way in the silk for him to walk to the fire unimpeded. “I am terribly sorry about the mess-… my children come out every dusk to repair it…”
"I cannot thank you enough." He pads through the cleared path on all fours, "Your children?" He looks up at the cocoons in the branches, "Does that have something to do with your unusual ornamentation?"
She sits back down on the branch, offering him a seat next to her. “Well… I am their mother, and therefore they are my children. All beasts that spin silk are my children… that makes me Mother Moth.” She smiles sheepishly. The October Hare can roll a history or Arcana check if they wish.
20 History
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mother Moth. Yes, a pleasure." He says as he takes his seat. "I myself am the October Hare. You certainly have an impressive family."
He recognizes the title of Mother Moth-… it’s an old, old name. It’s associated with traditional prayers and rituals regarding the Moonlit court- a rather large court of the Unseelie fey, ruled by the mad Moonlit King. Mother Moth- whether this Mother Moth or another Mother Moth- is rumored to not only be one of the oldest members of the court- but also the mother of the Moonlit king. Her Dappled Majesty, Queen Mother of Moonlight-… until Mother Moth lost favor In the court eight hundred or so years back. She hasn’t had a single ounce of sway in that court since, and faded into irrelevance. Perhaps this is that Mother Moth, or perhaps not.
”Why, you are very kind… I care for all of them, and they care for me… they are in hibernation this very moment- the Moths, at least. My other children thrive in the Autumn Country.”
"Do they now? Who are these thriving ones?" As he speaks he procures a small cloth bundle. In it is a tea kettle, some tea cups, a few spoons and dishes, and tea leaves. "You don't mind if I brew a pot do you? It's almost tea time."