The Lumberjack has walked out of the forest, dragging a long behind them in one hand, numerous splinters the size of toothpicks embedded into his hand, although he doesn’t seem to mind it. His belt and axe clanging against each other with every step he takes.
The Jester has begun to head towards the Keep, looking for both a place to rest and work to be found, standing atop his horse as it rides in that general direction, making slight turns when they get off track.
*Is there a blacksmith in town? Because I have an idea for another character, also just to mention, The Lumberjack is an elf and the Jester is a tiefling.*
*I will be really slow today. There is not an established blacksmith yet but there can be if you want one.* The Lumberjack spies a tall, strong armed man with a beard of autumn leaves sitting under a tree. A goose feather cloak is pulled right across his broad shoulders to ward against the wind. He holds a crooked stick and is scratching strange symbols in the dirt.
*Might make one later then*
The Lumberjack, being a strong armed man himself walks over to put his log down. Once he reaches them, letting go of the tree, and leans against the tree, beginning to pick the splinters out of his hand, blood steadily dripping to the dirt as he does so, making it into mud.
*Awesome*
”Hello Jack,” says the man with leaves for hair, “October is coming soon. It slinks ever closer with each gust of wind. Soon I’ll be very, very busy.” You notice that he scratches a small circle in the dirt, then draws a line through it. He repeats this simple image, creating a ‘v’ shaped formation. “Watch where you let your blood drop.”
Helianth is skulking about the library, picking up and leafing through multiple books at once as it slithers between the shelves.
You notice a small brown bird seems to flutter by overhead. It seems to be watching you.
The crooked flower looks up at the bird, curious. "How did you get in here, little one?" It sets down the books it was reading and stands to its full height.
The bird watches you shrewdly. Or as shrewd as a bird can look.
Then you hear a sound behind you. The sort of rustle a body makes when it has approached unnoticed and desires to attract your attention.
”Hello,” says the sharp voice of a man, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Helianth turns one of its flower heads to face them, the rest either looking at the bird with interest or taking in ambient light.
"Hello there. My friend and I are looking for information regarding how to acquire a Spelljammer. Do you happen to know anything on that matter?"
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 Lumberjack has walked out of the forest, dragging a long behind them in one hand, numerous splinters the size of toothpicks embedded into his hand, although he doesn’t seem to mind it. His belt and axe clanging against each other with every step he takes.
The Jester has begun to head towards the Keep, looking for both a place to rest and work to be found, standing atop his horse as it rides in that general direction, making slight turns when they get off track.
*Is there a blacksmith in town? Because I have an idea for another character, also just to mention, The Lumberjack is an elf and the Jester is a tiefling.*
*I will be really slow today. There is not an established blacksmith yet but there can be if you want one.* The Lumberjack spies a tall, strong armed man with a beard of autumn leaves sitting under a tree. A goose feather cloak is pulled right across his broad shoulders to ward against the wind. He holds a crooked stick and is scratching strange symbols in the dirt.
*Might make one later then*
The Lumberjack, being a strong armed man himself walks over to put his log down. Once he reaches them, letting go of the tree, and leans against the tree, beginning to pick the splinters out of his hand, blood steadily dripping to the dirt as he does so, making it into mud.
*Awesome*
”Hello Jack,” says the man with leaves for hair, “October is coming soon. It slinks ever closer with each gust of wind. Soon I’ll be very, very busy.” You notice that he scratches a small circle in the dirt, then draws a line through it. He repeats this simple image, creating a ‘v’ shaped formation. “Watch where you let your blood drop.”
The man nods silently, taking out a handkerchief and soaking up the blood. He grumbles in Elvish before saying in his gruff, deep voice "Sooner and sooner it comes. Soon enough I'll be out of a job. I'm getting too old for this." He says scratching his grayed beard with his still bloody hand, his eyes tired with age "Hmm."
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.'
Helianth is skulking about the library, picking up and leafing through multiple books at once as it slithers between the shelves.
You notice a small brown bird seems to flutter by overhead. It seems to be watching you.
The crooked flower looks up at the bird, curious. "How did you get in here, little one?" It sets down the books it was reading and stands to its full height.
The bird watches you shrewdly. Or as shrewd as a bird can look.
Then you hear a sound behind you. The sort of rustle a body makes when it has approached unnoticed and desires to attract your attention.
”Hello,” says the sharp voice of a man, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Helianth turns one of its flower heads to face them, the rest either looking at the bird with interest or taking in ambient light.
"Hello there. My friend and I are looking for information regarding how to acquire a Spelljammer. Do you happen to know anything on that matter?"
The Librarian stands there in his tweed suit and round spectacles, “I know much on the matter.” He says with a nod. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk through the mountainous book shelves.
Helianth is skulking about the library, picking up and leafing through multiple books at once as it slithers between the shelves.
You notice a small brown bird seems to flutter by overhead. It seems to be watching you.
The crooked flower looks up at the bird, curious. "How did you get in here, little one?" It sets down the books it was reading and stands to its full height.
The bird watches you shrewdly. Or as shrewd as a bird can look.
Then you hear a sound behind you. The sort of rustle a body makes when it has approached unnoticed and desires to attract your attention.
”Hello,” says the sharp voice of a man, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Helianth turns one of its flower heads to face them, the rest either looking at the bird with interest or taking in ambient light.
"Hello there. My friend and I are looking for information regarding how to acquire a Spelljammer. Do you happen to know anything on that matter?"
The Librarian stands there in his tweed suit and round spectacles, “I know much on the matter.” He says with a nod. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk through the mountainous book shelves.
The colossal flower follows, contorting its stem and roots around any obstacles in its path in a shambling mass of desiccated plant matter.
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 Lumberjack has walked out of the forest, dragging a long behind them in one hand, numerous splinters the size of toothpicks embedded into his hand, although he doesn’t seem to mind it. His belt and axe clanging against each other with every step he takes.
The Jester has begun to head towards the Keep, looking for both a place to rest and work to be found, standing atop his horse as it rides in that general direction, making slight turns when they get off track.
*Is there a blacksmith in town? Because I have an idea for another character, also just to mention, The Lumberjack is an elf and the Jester is a tiefling.*
*I will be really slow today. There is not an established blacksmith yet but there can be if you want one.* The Lumberjack spies a tall, strong armed man with a beard of autumn leaves sitting under a tree. A goose feather cloak is pulled right across his broad shoulders to ward against the wind. He holds a crooked stick and is scratching strange symbols in the dirt.
*Might make one later then*
The Lumberjack, being a strong armed man himself walks over to put his log down. Once he reaches them, letting go of the tree, and leans against the tree, beginning to pick the splinters out of his hand, blood steadily dripping to the dirt as he does so, making it into mud.
*Awesome*
”Hello Jack,” says the man with leaves for hair, “October is coming soon. It slinks ever closer with each gust of wind. Soon I’ll be very, very busy.” You notice that he scratches a small circle in the dirt, then draws a line through it. He repeats this simple image, creating a ‘v’ shaped formation. “Watch where you let your blood drop.”
The man nods silently, taking out a handkerchief and soaking up the blood. He grumbles in Elvish before saying in his gruff, deep voice "Sooner and sooner it comes. Soon enough I'll be out of a job. I'm getting too old for this." He says scratching his grayed beard with his still bloody hand, his eyes tired with age "Hmm."
As he finishes his “V” shaped symbol, you notice a flock of geese appear on the horizon. He turns his shaggy head up to look directly at the distant migrating water fowl flying in a “V” shaped formation. “I love geese.” He says quietly. Then he turns his head to look at you. His eyes shine as if they were candlelight glowing in a Jack-o’-lantern’s pumpkin skull. “How old exactly?”
Helianth is skulking about the library, picking up and leafing through multiple books at once as it slithers between the shelves.
You notice a small brown bird seems to flutter by overhead. It seems to be watching you.
The crooked flower looks up at the bird, curious. "How did you get in here, little one?" It sets down the books it was reading and stands to its full height.
The bird watches you shrewdly. Or as shrewd as a bird can look.
Then you hear a sound behind you. The sort of rustle a body makes when it has approached unnoticed and desires to attract your attention.
”Hello,” says the sharp voice of a man, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Helianth turns one of its flower heads to face them, the rest either looking at the bird with interest or taking in ambient light.
"Hello there. My friend and I are looking for information regarding how to acquire a Spelljammer. Do you happen to know anything on that matter?"
The Librarian stands there in his tweed suit and round spectacles, “I know much on the matter.” He says with a nod. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk through the mountainous book shelves.
The colossal flower follows, contorting its stem and roots around any obstacles in its path in a shambling mass of desiccated plant matter.
Ancient leatherbound volumes and yellowed scrolls are stacked up like bricks to the fortress walls of shelving. “May I ask what purpose you have in seeking this knowledge?” He asks, looking over his shoulder slightly as he walks with a long legged stride. The bird flutters back and forth, soaring behind you for a moment before flitting ahead until it cannot be seen and then it reappears once more to circle back around you. “It may equip me to find resources more pertinent to your research.”
The Lumberjack has walked out of the forest, dragging a long behind them in one hand, numerous splinters the size of toothpicks embedded into his hand, although he doesn’t seem to mind it. His belt and axe clanging against each other with every step he takes.
The Jester has begun to head towards the Keep, looking for both a place to rest and work to be found, standing atop his horse as it rides in that general direction, making slight turns when they get off track.
*Is there a blacksmith in town? Because I have an idea for another character, also just to mention, The Lumberjack is an elf and the Jester is a tiefling.*
*I will be really slow today. There is not an established blacksmith yet but there can be if you want one.* The Lumberjack spies a tall, strong armed man with a beard of autumn leaves sitting under a tree. A goose feather cloak is pulled right across his broad shoulders to ward against the wind. He holds a crooked stick and is scratching strange symbols in the dirt.
*Might make one later then*
The Lumberjack, being a strong armed man himself walks over to put his log down. Once he reaches them, letting go of the tree, and leans against the tree, beginning to pick the splinters out of his hand, blood steadily dripping to the dirt as he does so, making it into mud.
*Awesome*
”Hello Jack,” says the man with leaves for hair, “October is coming soon. It slinks ever closer with each gust of wind. Soon I’ll be very, very busy.” You notice that he scratches a small circle in the dirt, then draws a line through it. He repeats this simple image, creating a ‘v’ shaped formation. “Watch where you let your blood drop.”
The man nods silently, taking out a handkerchief and soaking up the blood. He grumbles in Elvish before saying in his gruff, deep voice "Sooner and sooner it comes. Soon enough I'll be out of a job. I'm getting too old for this." He says scratching his grayed beard with his still bloody hand, his eyes tired with age "Hmm."
As he finishes his “V” shaped symbol, you notice a flock of geese appear on the horizon. He turns his shaggy head up to look directly at the distant migrating water fowl flying in a “V” shaped formation. “I love geese.” He says quietly. Then he turns his head to look at you. His eyes shine as if they were candlelight glowing in a Jack-o’-lantern’s pumpkin skull. “How old exactly?”
He looks at the geese, his eyes gaining a slight smile within them, but not lasting very long the moment he asks for his age "Three hundred fifty one years, two months, seventeen days, six hours. Anything more wouldn't matter to tell you." He takes his axe and whetstone before beginning to sharpen the blade back from dullness.
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.'
Helianth is skulking about the library, picking up and leafing through multiple books at once as it slithers between the shelves.
You notice a small brown bird seems to flutter by overhead. It seems to be watching you.
The crooked flower looks up at the bird, curious. "How did you get in here, little one?" It sets down the books it was reading and stands to its full height.
The bird watches you shrewdly. Or as shrewd as a bird can look.
Then you hear a sound behind you. The sort of rustle a body makes when it has approached unnoticed and desires to attract your attention.
”Hello,” says the sharp voice of a man, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Helianth turns one of its flower heads to face them, the rest either looking at the bird with interest or taking in ambient light.
"Hello there. My friend and I are looking for information regarding how to acquire a Spelljammer. Do you happen to know anything on that matter?"
The Librarian stands there in his tweed suit and round spectacles, “I know much on the matter.” He says with a nod. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk through the mountainous book shelves.
The colossal flower follows, contorting its stem and roots around any obstacles in its path in a shambling mass of desiccated plant matter.
Ancient leatherbound volumes and yellowed scrolls are stacked up like bricks to the fortress walls of shelving. “May I ask what purpose you have in seeking this knowledge?” He asks, looking over his shoulder slightly as he walks with a long legged stride. The bird flutters back and forth, soaring behind you for a moment before flitting ahead until it cannot be seen and then it reappears once more to circle back around you. “It may equip me to find resources more pertinent to your research.”
"I and a colleague of mine wish to create a vessel that can sail across the very stars for the sake of... culinary exploration. We wanted to modify an existing Spelljammer to suit our needs, in order to save time." One of the flower's heads watches the bird to the best of its ability, the rest focused on various other tasks.
The twins decide they wish to explore the rest of the keep for a bit, since they plan on staying for some time at least. Noctis has fun jumping into shadows and appearing from shadows elsewhere in the Keep while Leo walks around like normal.
The Lumberjack has walked out of the forest, dragging a long behind them in one hand, numerous splinters the size of toothpicks embedded into his hand, although he doesn’t seem to mind it. His belt and axe clanging against each other with every step he takes.
The Jester has begun to head towards the Keep, looking for both a place to rest and work to be found, standing atop his horse as it rides in that general direction, making slight turns when they get off track.
*Is there a blacksmith in town? Because I have an idea for another character, also just to mention, The Lumberjack is an elf and the Jester is a tiefling.*
*I will be really slow today. There is not an established blacksmith yet but there can be if you want one.* The Lumberjack spies a tall, strong armed man with a beard of autumn leaves sitting under a tree. A goose feather cloak is pulled right across his broad shoulders to ward against the wind. He holds a crooked stick and is scratching strange symbols in the dirt.
*Might make one later then*
The Lumberjack, being a strong armed man himself walks over to put his log down. Once he reaches them, letting go of the tree, and leans against the tree, beginning to pick the splinters out of his hand, blood steadily dripping to the dirt as he does so, making it into mud.
*Awesome*
”Hello Jack,” says the man with leaves for hair, “October is coming soon. It slinks ever closer with each gust of wind. Soon I’ll be very, very busy.” You notice that he scratches a small circle in the dirt, then draws a line through it. He repeats this simple image, creating a ‘v’ shaped formation. “Watch where you let your blood drop.”
The man nods silently, taking out a handkerchief and soaking up the blood. He grumbles in Elvish before saying in his gruff, deep voice "Sooner and sooner it comes. Soon enough I'll be out of a job. I'm getting too old for this." He says scratching his grayed beard with his still bloody hand, his eyes tired with age "Hmm."
As he finishes his “V” shaped symbol, you notice a flock of geese appear on the horizon. He turns his shaggy head up to look directly at the distant migrating water fowl flying in a “V” shaped formation. “I love geese.” He says quietly. Then he turns his head to look at you. His eyes shine as if they were candlelight glowing in a Jack-o’-lantern’s pumpkin skull. “How old exactly?”
He looks at the geese, his eyes gaining a slight smile within them, but not lasting very long the moment he asks for his age "Three hundred fifty one years, two months, seventeen days, six hours. Anything more wouldn't matter to tell you." He takes his axe and whetstone before beginning to sharpen the blade back from dullness.
“You are aged,” says the King, “even for an elf.” He etches another “V” in the dirt and another flock of geese appear on the horizon. Then he turns his flickering gaze towards the small puddle of blood mud at your feet, “It is strange to meet an elf who fells trees.”
Helianth is skulking about the library, picking up and leafing through multiple books at once as it slithers between the shelves.
You notice a small brown bird seems to flutter by overhead. It seems to be watching you.
The crooked flower looks up at the bird, curious. "How did you get in here, little one?" It sets down the books it was reading and stands to its full height.
The bird watches you shrewdly. Or as shrewd as a bird can look.
Then you hear a sound behind you. The sort of rustle a body makes when it has approached unnoticed and desires to attract your attention.
”Hello,” says the sharp voice of a man, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Helianth turns one of its flower heads to face them, the rest either looking at the bird with interest or taking in ambient light.
"Hello there. My friend and I are looking for information regarding how to acquire a Spelljammer. Do you happen to know anything on that matter?"
The Librarian stands there in his tweed suit and round spectacles, “I know much on the matter.” He says with a nod. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk through the mountainous book shelves.
The colossal flower follows, contorting its stem and roots around any obstacles in its path in a shambling mass of desiccated plant matter.
Ancient leatherbound volumes and yellowed scrolls are stacked up like bricks to the fortress walls of shelving. “May I ask what purpose you have in seeking this knowledge?” He asks, looking over his shoulder slightly as he walks with a long legged stride. The bird flutters back and forth, soaring behind you for a moment before flitting ahead until it cannot be seen and then it reappears once more to circle back around you. “It may equip me to find resources more pertinent to your research.”
"I and a colleague of mine wish to create a vessel that can sail across the very stars for the sake of... culinary exploration. We wanted to modify an existing Spelljammer to suit our needs, in order to save time." One of the flower's heads watches the bird to the best of its ability, the rest focused on various other tasks.
“An interstellar culinary exploration? How unique.” He says, walking up a step set of carpeted stairs.You pass a skeleton holding a book in his hands. He slowly tears page after page from the book and then smooths the paper over his bones, covering himself in text. The Librarian pays him no mind. “Well, I have several manuals of construction, analytical tomes of the star ships of the Ithilids, blueprints and histories and scientific journals of spelljamming mechanics,” He says arriving at a particular shelf and gesturing at the books it holds. “Do you already have a ship?”
The Lumberjack has walked out of the forest, dragging a long behind them in one hand, numerous splinters the size of toothpicks embedded into his hand, although he doesn’t seem to mind it. His belt and axe clanging against each other with every step he takes.
The Jester has begun to head towards the Keep, looking for both a place to rest and work to be found, standing atop his horse as it rides in that general direction, making slight turns when they get off track.
*Is there a blacksmith in town? Because I have an idea for another character, also just to mention, The Lumberjack is an elf and the Jester is a tiefling.*
*I will be really slow today. There is not an established blacksmith yet but there can be if you want one.* The Lumberjack spies a tall, strong armed man with a beard of autumn leaves sitting under a tree. A goose feather cloak is pulled right across his broad shoulders to ward against the wind. He holds a crooked stick and is scratching strange symbols in the dirt.
*Might make one later then*
The Lumberjack, being a strong armed man himself walks over to put his log down. Once he reaches them, letting go of the tree, and leans against the tree, beginning to pick the splinters out of his hand, blood steadily dripping to the dirt as he does so, making it into mud.
*Awesome*
”Hello Jack,” says the man with leaves for hair, “October is coming soon. It slinks ever closer with each gust of wind. Soon I’ll be very, very busy.” You notice that he scratches a small circle in the dirt, then draws a line through it. He repeats this simple image, creating a ‘v’ shaped formation. “Watch where you let your blood drop.”
The man nods silently, taking out a handkerchief and soaking up the blood. He grumbles in Elvish before saying in his gruff, deep voice "Sooner and sooner it comes. Soon enough I'll be out of a job. I'm getting too old for this." He says scratching his grayed beard with his still bloody hand, his eyes tired with age "Hmm."
As he finishes his “V” shaped symbol, you notice a flock of geese appear on the horizon. He turns his shaggy head up to look directly at the distant migrating water fowl flying in a “V” shaped formation. “I love geese.” He says quietly. Then he turns his head to look at you. His eyes shine as if they were candlelight glowing in a Jack-o’-lantern’s pumpkin skull. “How old exactly?”
He looks at the geese, his eyes gaining a slight smile within them, but not lasting very long the moment he asks for his age "Three hundred fifty one years, two months, seventeen days, six hours. Anything more wouldn't matter to tell you." He takes his axe and whetstone before beginning to sharpen the blade back from dullness.
“You are aged,” says the King, “even for an elf.” He etches another “V” in the dirt and another flock of geese appear on the horizon. Then he turns his flickering gaze towards the small puddle of blood mud at your feet, “It is strange to meet an elf who fells trees.”
He looks down to the tree himself "I am not like other elves. Most elves seek grace and beauty, but I find those to be petty possessions that do not last. The dead do not seek grace, I should not either." He sits down "I may be aged, but I am equally experienced."
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 twins decide they wish to explore the rest of the keep for a bit, since they plan on staying for some time at least. Noctis has fun jumping into shadows and appearing from shadows elsewhere in the Keep while Leo walks around like normal.
The Keep is large and expansive and the architecture does not always make the most logical sense. You come across a room filled with rug. The floor is a magnificent Persian carpet woven with priceless fabrics and covered in intricate patterns and designs. This carpet is massive and fills most of the floor. It seems almost sacrilegious to walk on such a priceless work of art. The walls are covered in tapestries and paintings and there is some fine furniture around the edges of the room, but these seem more like ornaments carefully placed to draw even more attention to the carpets splendor.
*Baal has convinced me to bring my child in here.*
Donn Adhfhuafaireacht, also known as the Dark Beast in Gaelic, is a chilling tale often recounted by mothers to dissuade misbehaving children. The story warns that "Donn Adhfhuafaireacht will come into your dreams, lure you away from the waking world, and snatch your body while you are inside your mind!" The narrative serves as a cautionary tale, but little do they know, tales can transcend mere words and take on a life of their own.
Originating from the darkness of Feywild, Donn Adhfhuafaireacht lurks within the shadows behind trees and in the depths of the night. It conceals itself under pillows and beneath beds, infiltrating the dreams of unsuspecting individuals to drain them of their life force. Like a deity savoring ambrosia, this malevolent being sustains itself by consuming the fears of its victims.
In its physical form, Donn Adhfhuafaireacht manifests as a towering 6'8" figure, adorned in black fur and possessing matte, pitch-black skin. Its head resembles that of a ram, crowned with large, sharpened golden horns. Its eyes emit a faint, eerie glow in pure darkness. This monstrous entity boasts human-like arms and cloven hooves for feet. Its fingers are adorned with razor-sharp iron claws, sharper than any blade, and a nearly imperceptible substance seeps from beneath its nail beds - a manifestation of pure necrotic energy.
Brandishing a large, black metal pitchfork, its weathered appearance betrays its ancient origins, yet its tines remain sharper than needles. Twine wraps along its wooden handle, adding to the sinister aesthetic of this otherworldly creature.
Walking among the fields quietly, a goat-like creature hums to itself. It wears a black suit, a matching waistcoat with golden buttons, and dangly golden earrings from its ears. It carries a pitchfork in one hand and, in the other, a young child on his hip. She has long black hair, pointy little ears, and bright green eyes. She tries to reach out to the bugs, giggling a bit.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
Helianth is skulking about the library, picking up and leafing through multiple books at once as it slithers between the shelves.
You notice a small brown bird seems to flutter by overhead. It seems to be watching you.
The crooked flower looks up at the bird, curious. "How did you get in here, little one?" It sets down the books it was reading and stands to its full height.
The bird watches you shrewdly. Or as shrewd as a bird can look.
Then you hear a sound behind you. The sort of rustle a body makes when it has approached unnoticed and desires to attract your attention.
”Hello,” says the sharp voice of a man, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Helianth turns one of its flower heads to face them, the rest either looking at the bird with interest or taking in ambient light.
"Hello there. My friend and I are looking for information regarding how to acquire a Spelljammer. Do you happen to know anything on that matter?"
The Librarian stands there in his tweed suit and round spectacles, “I know much on the matter.” He says with a nod. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk through the mountainous book shelves.
The colossal flower follows, contorting its stem and roots around any obstacles in its path in a shambling mass of desiccated plant matter.
Ancient leatherbound volumes and yellowed scrolls are stacked up like bricks to the fortress walls of shelving. “May I ask what purpose you have in seeking this knowledge?” He asks, looking over his shoulder slightly as he walks with a long legged stride. The bird flutters back and forth, soaring behind you for a moment before flitting ahead until it cannot be seen and then it reappears once more to circle back around you. “It may equip me to find resources more pertinent to your research.”
"I and a colleague of mine wish to create a vessel that can sail across the very stars for the sake of... culinary exploration. We wanted to modify an existing Spelljammer to suit our needs, in order to save time." One of the flower's heads watches the bird to the best of its ability, the rest focused on various other tasks.
“An interstellar culinary exploration? How unique.” He says, walking up a step set of carpeted stairs.You pass a skeleton holding a book in his hands. He slowly tears page after page from the book and then smooths the paper over his bones, covering himself in text. The Librarian pays him no mind. “Well, I have several manuals of construction, analytical tomes of the star ships of the Ithilids, blueprints and histories and scientific journals of spelljamming mechanics,” He says arriving at a particular shelf and gesturing at the books it holds. “Do you already have a ship?”
"Thank you very much. As for the ship, we do not have one yet. We were actually wondering how one would go about acquiring such a vessel." Helianth's roots extend to the shelf, taking a few books and opening them while a separate flower head reads each's contents. Their largest flower head remains focused on the Librarian.
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 Lumberjack has walked out of the forest, dragging a long behind them in one hand, numerous splinters the size of toothpicks embedded into his hand, although he doesn’t seem to mind it. His belt and axe clanging against each other with every step he takes.
The Jester has begun to head towards the Keep, looking for both a place to rest and work to be found, standing atop his horse as it rides in that general direction, making slight turns when they get off track.
*Is there a blacksmith in town? Because I have an idea for another character, also just to mention, The Lumberjack is an elf and the Jester is a tiefling.*
*I will be really slow today. There is not an established blacksmith yet but there can be if you want one.* The Lumberjack spies a tall, strong armed man with a beard of autumn leaves sitting under a tree. A goose feather cloak is pulled right across his broad shoulders to ward against the wind. He holds a crooked stick and is scratching strange symbols in the dirt.
*Might make one later then*
The Lumberjack, being a strong armed man himself walks over to put his log down. Once he reaches them, letting go of the tree, and leans against the tree, beginning to pick the splinters out of his hand, blood steadily dripping to the dirt as he does so, making it into mud.
*Awesome*
”Hello Jack,” says the man with leaves for hair, “October is coming soon. It slinks ever closer with each gust of wind. Soon I’ll be very, very busy.” You notice that he scratches a small circle in the dirt, then draws a line through it. He repeats this simple image, creating a ‘v’ shaped formation. “Watch where you let your blood drop.”
The man nods silently, taking out a handkerchief and soaking up the blood. He grumbles in Elvish before saying in his gruff, deep voice "Sooner and sooner it comes. Soon enough I'll be out of a job. I'm getting too old for this." He says scratching his grayed beard with his still bloody hand, his eyes tired with age "Hmm."
As he finishes his “V” shaped symbol, you notice a flock of geese appear on the horizon. He turns his shaggy head up to look directly at the distant migrating water fowl flying in a “V” shaped formation. “I love geese.” He says quietly. Then he turns his head to look at you. His eyes shine as if they were candlelight glowing in a Jack-o’-lantern’s pumpkin skull. “How old exactly?”
He looks at the geese, his eyes gaining a slight smile within them, but not lasting very long the moment he asks for his age "Three hundred fifty one years, two months, seventeen days, six hours. Anything more wouldn't matter to tell you." He takes his axe and whetstone before beginning to sharpen the blade back from dullness.
“You are aged,” says the King, “even for an elf.” He etches another “V” in the dirt and another flock of geese appear on the horizon. Then he turns his flickering gaze towards the small puddle of blood mud at your feet, “It is strange to meet an elf who fells trees.”
He looks down to the tree himself "I am not like other elves. Most elves seek grace and beauty, but I find those to be petty possessions that do not last. The dead do not seek grace, I should not either." He sits down "I may be aged, but I am equally experienced."
“Experience comes with age.” He says and he pinches up the blood mud, rolling it up in his fingers. “I admire your outlook. It is very unique among the elves.”
*Awesome*
”Hello Jack,” says the man with leaves for hair, “October is coming soon. It slinks ever closer with each gust of wind. Soon I’ll be very, very busy.” You notice that he scratches a small circle in the dirt, then draws a line through it. He repeats this simple image, creating a ‘v’ shaped formation. “Watch where you let your blood drop.”
Helianth turns one of its flower heads to face them, the rest either looking at the bird with interest or taking in ambient light.
"Hello there. My friend and I are looking for information regarding how to acquire a Spelljammer. Do you happen to know anything on that matter?"
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 man nods silently, taking out a handkerchief and soaking up the blood. He grumbles in Elvish before saying in his gruff, deep voice "Sooner and sooner it comes. Soon enough I'll be out of a job. I'm getting too old for this." He says scratching his grayed beard with his still bloody hand, his eyes tired with age "Hmm."
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 Librarian stands there in his tweed suit and round spectacles, “I know much on the matter.” He says with a nod. “Follow me.” He turns on his heel and begins to walk through the mountainous book shelves.
The colossal flower follows, contorting its stem and roots around any obstacles in its path in a shambling mass of desiccated plant matter.
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)
As he finishes his “V” shaped symbol, you notice a flock of geese appear on the horizon. He turns his shaggy head up to look directly at the distant migrating water fowl flying in a “V” shaped formation. “I love geese.” He says quietly. Then he turns his head to look at you. His eyes shine as if they were candlelight glowing in a Jack-o’-lantern’s pumpkin skull. “How old exactly?”
Ancient leatherbound volumes and yellowed scrolls are stacked up like bricks to the fortress walls of shelving. “May I ask what purpose you have in seeking this knowledge?” He asks, looking over his shoulder slightly as he walks with a long legged stride. The bird flutters back and forth, soaring behind you for a moment before flitting ahead until it cannot be seen and then it reappears once more to circle back around you. “It may equip me to find resources more pertinent to your research.”
He looks at the geese, his eyes gaining a slight smile within them, but not lasting very long the moment he asks for his age "Three hundred fifty one years, two months, seventeen days, six hours. Anything more wouldn't matter to tell you." He takes his axe and whetstone before beginning to sharpen the blade back from dullness.
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.)
"I and a colleague of mine wish to create a vessel that can sail across the very stars for the sake of... culinary exploration. We wanted to modify an existing Spelljammer to suit our needs, in order to save time." One of the flower's heads watches the bird to the best of its ability, the rest focused on various other tasks.
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 twins decide they wish to explore the rest of the keep for a bit, since they plan on staying for some time at least. Noctis has fun jumping into shadows and appearing from shadows elsewhere in the Keep while Leo walks around like normal.
“You are aged,” says the King, “even for an elf.” He etches another “V” in the dirt and another flock of geese appear on the horizon. Then he turns his flickering gaze towards the small puddle of blood mud at your feet, “It is strange to meet an elf who fells trees.”
“An interstellar culinary exploration? How unique.” He says, walking up a step set of carpeted stairs.You pass a skeleton holding a book in his hands. He slowly tears page after page from the book and then smooths the paper over his bones, covering himself in text. The Librarian pays him no mind. “Well, I have several manuals of construction, analytical tomes of the star ships of the Ithilids, blueprints and histories and scientific journals of spelljamming mechanics,” He says arriving at a particular shelf and gesturing at the books it holds. “Do you already have a ship?”
He looks down to the tree himself "I am not like other elves. Most elves seek grace and beauty, but I find those to be petty possessions that do not last. The dead do not seek grace, I should not either." He sits down "I may be aged, but I am equally experienced."
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 Keep is large and expansive and the architecture does not always make the most logical sense. You come across a room filled with rug. The floor is a magnificent Persian carpet woven with priceless fabrics and covered in intricate patterns and designs. This carpet is massive and fills most of the floor. It seems almost sacrilegious to walk on such a priceless work of art. The walls are covered in tapestries and paintings and there is some fine furniture around the edges of the room, but these seem more like ornaments carefully placed to draw even more attention to the carpets splendor.
*Baal has convinced me to bring my child in here.*
Donn Adhfhuafaireacht, also known as the Dark Beast in Gaelic, is a chilling tale often recounted by mothers to dissuade misbehaving children. The story warns that "Donn Adhfhuafaireacht will come into your dreams, lure you away from the waking world, and snatch your body while you are inside your mind!" The narrative serves as a cautionary tale, but little do they know, tales can transcend mere words and take on a life of their own.
Originating from the darkness of Feywild, Donn Adhfhuafaireacht lurks within the shadows behind trees and in the depths of the night. It conceals itself under pillows and beneath beds, infiltrating the dreams of unsuspecting individuals to drain them of their life force. Like a deity savoring ambrosia, this malevolent being sustains itself by consuming the fears of its victims.
In its physical form, Donn Adhfhuafaireacht manifests as a towering 6'8" figure, adorned in black fur and possessing matte, pitch-black skin. Its head resembles that of a ram, crowned with large, sharpened golden horns. Its eyes emit a faint, eerie glow in pure darkness. This monstrous entity boasts human-like arms and cloven hooves for feet. Its fingers are adorned with razor-sharp iron claws, sharper than any blade, and a nearly imperceptible substance seeps from beneath its nail beds - a manifestation of pure necrotic energy.
Brandishing a large, black metal pitchfork, its weathered appearance betrays its ancient origins, yet its tines remain sharper than needles. Twine wraps along its wooden handle, adding to the sinister aesthetic of this otherworldly creature.
Walking among the fields quietly, a goat-like creature hums to itself. It wears a black suit, a matching waistcoat with golden buttons, and dangly golden earrings from its ears. It carries a pitchfork in one hand and, in the other, a young child on his hip. She has long black hair, pointy little ears, and bright green eyes. She tries to reach out to the bugs, giggling a bit.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
"Thank you very much. As for the ship, we do not have one yet. We were actually wondering how one would go about acquiring such a vessel." Helianth's roots extend to the shelf, taking a few books and opening them while a separate flower head reads each's contents. Their largest flower head remains focused on the Librarian.
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)
*This looks pretty fun, oh and i like november. I have no clue what sorta character i wanna make but i like how this looks :>*
*Awesome! If you can come up with something feel free to join.*
“Experience comes with age.” He says and he pinches up the blood mud, rolling it up in his fingers. “I admire your outlook. It is very unique among the elves.”
Egregore is lighting fresh black candles around the Keep, bathing it in dim light.
Felix is experimenting with a sunlight-catching apparatus so he can experiment with the flavors and textures.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.