Szeru is in one of the graveyards near the keep, the ones that have grown so big they've begun to merge with the surrounding plots of land. He's making sugar skulls in the image of real ones.
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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.
He smiles, “You’d be surprised by how many people are just as confused as you. I very much like your game.”
"Oh goody thank you! I greatly enjoy being able to provide the rule followers with my apples. I hope it's alright if my fellow Barrels and I stay here, in your land? It fits our wants and needs very nicely. We can even attend any royal parties you have, and things of that manner, since we can provide fun and food."
"Of course you may. You'll fit in perfectly. You may set your barrels up just about anywhere you like. How many of your kind are there?"
He frowns slightly in thought. "Actually, I'm unaware. Anywhere between 5 and 15, I'd say!"
"Well, they are welcome in my domain." He thought seems to occur to him. "...Bobbing... for apples... You say you are in need of a name?"
*Cut for EJODM* Out of the ghoul gate steps the oversized figure of a Son of Amina. Somehow, he is able to squeeze a twelve foot tall frame out of the tombstone door. Two ginormous eyes of cold, yellow light shine out of his face. He is dressed in a loose tunic that used to be white but has been stained with yellow mold. Brown canvas pants clad his bow legged legs and dangling from his huge ears are a fork and a knife, hanging as earrings.
“Amina does not take kindly to attacks on her family.”
"Amina can not take kindly all she likes, scum." Fahkar raises his blade, the dawn light spilling over the Son and the Ghouls, the latter of which are paralyzed. A soft, feminine voice seems to emanate from the blade. "Fight and suffer a terrible fate. Surrender yourself and you will die quickly. I recommend the second option."
"I have nothing to surrender. Nothing at all. A fright must fight!" The fork and knife hanging from his ears swing wildly as he lunges forward. His long, muscular arms swing wide and his grubby fingers ball into stone fists that leave craters in the earth when he slams them to the ground.
*Howdy Baalz, how've you been? I'm hopping back and forth between a bunch of work right now so I can't stay and role-play unfortunately.*
*I've been good in the hood. Well, not really, but I'm feeling alright. It's my mom's birthday and I'm feeling inadequate since she's done just about everything but call me that to my face.*
*It's alright, you're very much my friend for more reasons than your superb writing.*
*Howdy Baalz, how've you been? I'm hopping back and forth between a bunch of work right now so I can't stay and role-play unfortunately.*
*I've been good in the hood. Well, not really, but I'm feeling alright. It's my mom's birthday and I'm feeling inadequate since she's done just about everything but call me that to my face.*
*It's alright, you're very much my friend for more reasons than your superb writing.*
*Dude, I'm sorry. That sounds terrible. I'll be praying for you and your family, it sounds like its been rough.*
*Howdy Baalz, how've you been? I'm hopping back and forth between a bunch of work right now so I can't stay and role-play unfortunately.*
*I've been good in the hood. Well, not really, but I'm feeling alright. It's my mom's birthday and I'm feeling inadequate since she's done just about everything but call me that to my face.*
*It's alright, you're very much my friend for more reasons than your superb writing.*
*Dude, I'm sorry. That sounds terrible. I'll be praying for you and your family, it sounds like its been rough.*
*Thank you for your prayers, friend. They mean a lot to me.*
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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.
Helianth is continuing to absorb sunlight, not letting itself be distracted in its impossible quest. It does seem to have grown slightly in height, though.
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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)
An oversized cleaver made of meat lies half-buried into the dirt. It quivers slightly.
Helianth attempts to ignore it for a while, but curiosity overcomes it. It uproots itself once more, approaching the weapon.
It twitches violently as it approaches, as if desperate to be freed.
The withered sunflower coils its gnarled roots around the weapon's handle, pulling it from the ground.
It senses something. A tiny, awful world of nothing but bloodshed and flesh inside the cleaver. Pain, pain, pain. And something inside wants to get out, get away from the carnage. Pain, pain, pain. It's strong, impossibly strong from millennia of the little world trying to kill it, but it cannot escape the hell it was trapped in who-knows-how-long ago. Pain, pain, pain.
My name... is Rend.... help me... I beg of you...
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.
An oversized cleaver made of meat lies half-buried into the dirt. It quivers slightly.
Helianth attempts to ignore it for a while, but curiosity overcomes it. It uproots itself once more, approaching the weapon.
It twitches violently as it approaches, as if desperate to be freed.
The withered sunflower coils its gnarled roots around the weapon's handle, pulling it from the ground.
It senses something. A tiny, awful world of nothing but bloodshed and flesh inside the cleaver. Pain, pain, pain. And something inside wants to get out, get away from the carnage. Pain, pain, pain. It's strong, impossibly strong from millennia of the little world trying to kill it, but it cannot escape the hell it was trapped in who-knows-how-long ago. Pain, pain, pain.
My name... is Rend.... help me... I beg of you...
Helianth only slightly reacts to the horrible sense of agony projected from the blade. "...What... do you have... to repay.... me?"
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)
An oversized cleaver made of meat lies half-buried into the dirt. It quivers slightly.
Helianth attempts to ignore it for a while, but curiosity overcomes it. It uproots itself once more, approaching the weapon.
It twitches violently as it approaches, as if desperate to be freed.
The withered sunflower coils its gnarled roots around the weapon's handle, pulling it from the ground.
It senses something. A tiny, awful world of nothing but bloodshed and flesh inside the cleaver. Pain, pain, pain. And something inside wants to get out, get away from the carnage. Pain, pain, pain. It's strong, impossibly strong from millennia of the little world trying to kill it, but it cannot escape the hell it was trapped in who-knows-how-long ago. Pain, pain, pain.
My name... is Rend.... help me... I beg of you...
Helianth only slightly reacts to the horrible sense of agony projected from the blade. "...What... do you have... to repay.... me?"
Nothing... I have nothing... I cannot lie. I will do my best to repay you if you free me, but I don't even know what you could want.
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.
An oversized cleaver made of meat lies half-buried into the dirt. It quivers slightly.
Helianth attempts to ignore it for a while, but curiosity overcomes it. It uproots itself once more, approaching the weapon.
It twitches violently as it approaches, as if desperate to be freed.
The withered sunflower coils its gnarled roots around the weapon's handle, pulling it from the ground.
It senses something. A tiny, awful world of nothing but bloodshed and flesh inside the cleaver. Pain, pain, pain. And something inside wants to get out, get away from the carnage. Pain, pain, pain. It's strong, impossibly strong from millennia of the little world trying to kill it, but it cannot escape the hell it was trapped in who-knows-how-long ago. Pain, pain, pain.
My name... is Rend.... help me... I beg of you...
Helianth only slightly reacts to the horrible sense of agony projected from the blade. "...What... do you have... to repay.... me?"
Nothing... I have nothing... I cannot lie. I will do my best to repay you if you free me, but I don't even know what you could want.
"...Very well..." The sunflower stares down at the blade. "...How... do I... release 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)
*Good morning! Oh and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!*
A tall, delicate automaton rabbit streaks through a quiet graveyard as a golden blur. "I mustn't be late! I mustn't be late!" He chatters nervously to himself. He arrives at a tall, gravestone overlooking an ancient tomb. Set inside the tombstone, is the face of an ancient clock. The rabbit swings the clock face open and swiftly turns the gears with his thin, metal fingers. He then slams it shut right as the tomb clock lets out an echoing, somber toll. "I mustn't be late!" says the Hare again as its spring loaded heels rocket it away. It darts down an open tomb in the cemetery, disappearing.
Deep in the labyrinthine shelves of the library in the Keep of Painted Leaves, bird song can be heard. This part of the library is not as well lit as the rest of it and candlelight can be seen moving through the towers of books. Muffled foot steps sound in the ancient corridors, along with the shuffling of pages and the flap of bird wings.
A tornado is tearing across a cornfield. The whirling spiral of air carves destruction across the ground like the finger of a heavenly titan. Around the twister is a multitude of night feathered crows, flapping through the turbulent air. If one looks closely, they can see a humanoid figure staggering about in the center of the whirlwind.
Helianth is continuing to drag itself in the direction of the sun, but with a second purpose as well. Carrying Rend's blade, it seeks blood to free the one trapped inside- The sunflower is naught but cracked and dry plant matter, devoid of blood, but if it can find another traveler on its path...
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)
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Szeru is in one of the graveyards near the keep, the ones that have grown so big they've begun to merge with the surrounding plots of land. He's making sugar skulls in the image of real ones.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Well, they are welcome in my domain." He thought seems to occur to him. "...Bobbing... for apples... You say you are in need of a name?"
"I have nothing to surrender. Nothing at all. A fright must fight!" The fork and knife hanging from his ears swing wildly as he lunges forward. His long, muscular arms swing wide and his grubby fingers ball into stone fists that leave craters in the earth when he slams them to the ground.
*Hey there, Dark!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Howdy Baalz, how've you been? I'm hopping back and forth between a bunch of work right now so I can't stay and role-play unfortunately.*
*I've been good in the hood. Well, not really, but I'm feeling alright. It's my mom's birthday and I'm feeling inadequate since she's done just about everything but call me that to my face.*
*It's alright, you're very much my friend for more reasons than your superb writing.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Dude, I'm sorry. That sounds terrible. I'll be praying for you and your family, it sounds like its been rough.*
*Thank you for your prayers, friend. They mean a lot to me.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Helianth is continuing to absorb sunlight, not letting itself be distracted in its impossible quest. It does seem to have grown slightly in height, though.
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)
An oversized cleaver made of meat lies half-buried into the dirt. It quivers slightly.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Helianth attempts to ignore it for a while, but curiosity overcomes it. It uproots itself once more, approaching the weapon.
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 twitches violently as she approaches, as if desperate to be freed.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The withered sunflower coils its gnarled roots around the weapon's handle, pulling it from the ground.
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 senses something. A tiny, awful world of nothing but bloodshed and flesh inside the cleaver. Pain, pain, pain. And something inside wants to get out, get away from the carnage. Pain, pain, pain. It's strong, impossibly strong from millennia of the little world trying to kill it, but it cannot escape the hell it was trapped in who-knows-how-long ago. Pain, pain, pain.
My name... is Rend.... help me... I beg of you...
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Helianth only slightly reacts to the horrible sense of agony projected from the blade. "...What... do you have... to repay.... me?"
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)
Nothing... I have nothing... I cannot lie. I will do my best to repay you if you free me, but I don't even know what you could want.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"...Very well..." The sunflower stares down at the blade. "...How... do I... release 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)
The blade must meet willing flesh...
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Good morning! Oh and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!*
A tall, delicate automaton rabbit streaks through a quiet graveyard as a golden blur. "I mustn't be late! I mustn't be late!" He chatters nervously to himself. He arrives at a tall, gravestone overlooking an ancient tomb. Set inside the tombstone, is the face of an ancient clock. The rabbit swings the clock face open and swiftly turns the gears with his thin, metal fingers. He then slams it shut right as the tomb clock lets out an echoing, somber toll. "I mustn't be late!" says the Hare again as its spring loaded heels rocket it away. It darts down an open tomb in the cemetery, disappearing.
Deep in the labyrinthine shelves of the library in the Keep of Painted Leaves, bird song can be heard. This part of the library is not as well lit as the rest of it and candlelight can be seen moving through the towers of books. Muffled foot steps sound in the ancient corridors, along with the shuffling of pages and the flap of bird wings.
A tornado is tearing across a cornfield. The whirling spiral of air carves destruction across the ground like the finger of a heavenly titan. Around the twister is a multitude of night feathered crows, flapping through the turbulent air. If one looks closely, they can see a humanoid figure staggering about in the center of the whirlwind.
Helianth is continuing to drag itself in the direction of the sun, but with a second purpose as well. Carrying Rend's blade, it seeks blood to free the one trapped inside- The sunflower is naught but cracked and dry plant matter, devoid of blood, but if it can find another traveler on its path...
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)