Out in the woods, a noble aims his rifle at a normal-looking deer. His hands are shaking, slick with sweat. "Just one more time..." he whispers. "Please, just let me do this one more time..."
He closes his eyes for a few seconds, steadying himself. He fires. When he opens his eyes again, they don't believe what they see. The deer is still there, injured, being petted by a fox-like man with a shotgun in his left paw. The fox slowly turns to make eye contact, then raises the gun to his shoulder. The noble gets up and begins to run as his shoulder is peppered with lead. He stumbles a bit, but keeps running as the pain is rapidly replaced with a strange sort of tingling pleasure. Poison. The bullets were poisoned. Why? He sprints, hearing the slow, deliberate steps behind him. The whistling lullaby. Everything seems so soothing, and there's so long to go. It would be so easy to just lay down. But he has to run. He needs to get back home. Warn the others.
Out of the deep shadows of a crooked tree springs the crooked form of the round face ghoul with the cardboard crown. His chubby lips are spread thin by a wide, manic smile and his voice speaks out, "Good afternoon!"
The noble is distracted for a second. But that's all it takes. He trips over a root and falls to his hands and knees before raising his gun one-handed to fire at the ghoul. It clicks empty. He falls to his face, breathing in the moist, decaying air. The plodding footsteps are getting closer. Run, run, run. Wait. He knows this ghoul. A faint memory. An ally he met? A bedtime story he was told? Whatever. It's a chance. "H-help... please..."
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles) Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
”Well, Felicity. You can stay with me until your time comes. I’ll care for you, as I cannot be directly responsible for your demise, though do not expect me to protect you from all danger.”
"thank you" she smiles very slightly
“You’re very welcome.”
she stands motionless, not even blinking
“Hello? Is this a common occurrence?”
"hmm?"
“You not responding.”
"oh, i'm sorry sir."
“Rather you call me Baron.”
"baron..." she stops to think a little. "like a duke?"
“In a sense. Though more like the one who taught me these ways.”
"that's nice" she says.
“Indeed he was.”
"What was he like?" she walks along with him
“A womanizer. A smoker and a drinker. Quite an odd man, but very kind to those he buries and leads to the afterlife.”
He snarls “I owe a fey a favor. This was supposedly where they hail from, and I’m supposed to: ‘help out however I can, until that chain around your neck is gone’. I don’t get paid enough for this.”
A smile flashes across his face, “Really? Well, if you’re looking at ways you can be of service I know of some tasks that need attendance. I’d even be willing to consider a reward upon their completion.”
“So be it then. What do you require?”
“Come,” He turns and begins to walk, “There is a field here that needs tending.” He leads you to a large brown patch of earth. “The seeds have been planted, but I need them to be watered, harvested, and then cut open. Put whatever is inside into that cart over yonder and then bring it up to the castle by sundown.” It is a little after midday.
“I’m assuming plants grow faster.” He slings the object off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. “I advise you don’t let anyone get too close to that.”
"You'll figure it out." Then he disappears in a cloud of autumn leaves that scatter away in the wind.
The field lies brown and barren. A rusty pump protrudes from the ground next to a tin pail.
Quite quick now that he is no longer bogged down by the object, he gets water from the pump into the bucket and waters the patch. Waiting for it to grow
Each drop beckons a green shoot from the ground. Serpentine stalks slither from the dirt and spread wide, flat wings that soak up the sinking sun. Soon yellow blossoms spring out from under the leaves and they soon wilt, giving way to orange ballooning pumpkins. They swell into plump gourds covered in warts, fat and ready for picking.
He takes them off their vines, splitting them open with his skeletal left hand, and taking a look at what’s inside
”Well, Felicity. You can stay with me until your time comes. I’ll care for you, as I cannot be directly responsible for your demise, though do not expect me to protect you from all danger.”
"thank you" she smiles very slightly
“You’re very welcome.”
she stands motionless, not even blinking
“Hello? Is this a common occurrence?”
"hmm?"
“You not responding.”
"oh, i'm sorry sir."
“Rather you call me Baron.”
"baron..." she stops to think a little. "like a duke?"
“In a sense. Though more like the one who taught me these ways.”
"that's nice" she says.
“Indeed he was.”
"What was he like?" she walks along with him
“A womanizer. A smoker and a drinker. Quite an odd man, but very kind to those he buries and leads to the afterlife.”
"The afterlife? Where is that?"
“Everywhere. And nowhere.”
"that doesn't make any sense, mr baron"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles) Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Out in the woods, a noble aims his rifle at a normal-looking deer. His hands are shaking, slick with sweat. "Just one more time..." he whispers. "Please, just let me do this one more time..."
He closes his eyes for a few seconds, steadying himself. He fires. When he opens his eyes again, they don't believe what they see. The deer is still there, injured, being petted by a fox-like man with a shotgun in his left paw. The fox slowly turns to make eye contact, then raises the gun to his shoulder. The noble gets up and begins to run as his shoulder is peppered with lead. He stumbles a bit, but keeps running as the pain is rapidly replaced with a strange sort of tingling pleasure. Poison. The bullets were poisoned. Why? He sprints, hearing the slow, deliberate steps behind him. The whistling lullaby. Everything seems so soothing, and there's so long to go. It would be so easy to just lay down. But he has to run. He needs to get back home. Warn the others.
Out of the deep shadows of a crooked tree springs the crooked form of the round face ghoul with the cardboard crown. His chubby lips are spread thin by a wide, manic smile and his voice speaks out, "Good afternoon!"
The noble is distracted for a second. But that's all it takes. He trips over a root and falls to his hands and knees before raising his gun one-handed to fire at the ghoul. It clicks empty. He falls to his face, breathing in the moist, decaying air. The plodding footsteps are getting closer. Run, run, run. Wait. He knows this ghoul. A faint memory. An ally he met? A bedtime story he was told? Whatever. It's a chance. "H-help... please..."
Fat Face blinks. He lurches forward, his mouth a gaping, hungry cavern... but he stops. The frustration that was building up about not being properly addressed is temporarily replaced with confusion. This isn't how most people he met reacted to his attacks. The 'please' was common. They often begged for their lives. But what was different? His wide mouth opens and shuts in thought as he mulls it over. It's the 'help' that tripped him up. He didn't often hear the word directed toward him. Especially not from a scrumptious looking victim seasoned and spiced with fragrant, mouth watering poison in a fresh wound. The strange begging may have slowed him down, but his mind is starting to be overrun by the dark impulses of his gut. Fat Face croaks, "Help. Help. You think you need help?" His bulging cheeks jiggle has he shakes his head sadly.
He snarls “I owe a fey a favor. This was supposedly where they hail from, and I’m supposed to: ‘help out however I can, until that chain around your neck is gone’. I don’t get paid enough for this.”
A smile flashes across his face, “Really? Well, if you’re looking at ways you can be of service I know of some tasks that need attendance. I’d even be willing to consider a reward upon their completion.”
“So be it then. What do you require?”
“Come,” He turns and begins to walk, “There is a field here that needs tending.” He leads you to a large brown patch of earth. “The seeds have been planted, but I need them to be watered, harvested, and then cut open. Put whatever is inside into that cart over yonder and then bring it up to the castle by sundown.” It is a little after midday.
“I’m assuming plants grow faster.” He slings the object off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. “I advise you don’t let anyone get too close to that.”
"You'll figure it out." Then he disappears in a cloud of autumn leaves that scatter away in the wind.
The field lies brown and barren. A rusty pump protrudes from the ground next to a tin pail.
Quite quick now that he is no longer bogged down by the object, he gets water from the pump into the bucket and waters the patch. Waiting for it to grow
Each drop beckons a green shoot from the ground. Serpentine stalks slither from the dirt and spread wide, flat wings that soak up the sinking sun. Soon yellow blossoms spring out from under the leaves and they soon wilt, giving way to orange ballooning pumpkins. They swell into plump gourds covered in warts, fat and ready for picking.
He takes them off their vines, splitting them open with his skeletal left hand, and taking a look at what’s inside
As you pick them up, you hear something rattle in the hollow of each pumpkin. Upon opening up the gourd, you see a human skull, pasted with slime and dripping with pulp, staring out at you with empty sockets.
He snarls “I owe a fey a favor. This was supposedly where they hail from, and I’m supposed to: ‘help out however I can, until that chain around your neck is gone’. I don’t get paid enough for this.”
A smile flashes across his face, “Really? Well, if you’re looking at ways you can be of service I know of some tasks that need attendance. I’d even be willing to consider a reward upon their completion.”
“So be it then. What do you require?”
“Come,” He turns and begins to walk, “There is a field here that needs tending.” He leads you to a large brown patch of earth. “The seeds have been planted, but I need them to be watered, harvested, and then cut open. Put whatever is inside into that cart over yonder and then bring it up to the castle by sundown.” It is a little after midday.
“I’m assuming plants grow faster.” He slings the object off his shoulder, hitting the ground with a resounding thud. “I advise you don’t let anyone get too close to that.”
"You'll figure it out." Then he disappears in a cloud of autumn leaves that scatter away in the wind.
The field lies brown and barren. A rusty pump protrudes from the ground next to a tin pail.
Quite quick now that he is no longer bogged down by the object, he gets water from the pump into the bucket and waters the patch. Waiting for it to grow
Each drop beckons a green shoot from the ground. Serpentine stalks slither from the dirt and spread wide, flat wings that soak up the sinking sun. Soon yellow blossoms spring out from under the leaves and they soon wilt, giving way to orange ballooning pumpkins. They swell into plump gourds covered in warts, fat and ready for picking.
He takes them off their vines, splitting them open with his skeletal left hand, and taking a look at what’s inside
As you pick them up, you hear something rattle in the hollow of each pumpkin. Upon opening up the gourd, you see a human skull, pasted with slime and dripping with pulp, staring out at you with empty sockets.
He seems unbothered by it. Simply picking them up and placing them into the cart. He then pulls the cart and himself into a shadow, appearing in another shadow closer to the castle
Out in the woods, a noble aims his rifle at a normal-looking deer. His hands are shaking, slick with sweat. "Just one more time..." he whispers. "Please, just let me do this one more time..."
He closes his eyes for a few seconds, steadying himself. He fires. When he opens his eyes again, they don't believe what they see. The deer is still there, injured, being petted by a fox-like man with a shotgun in his left paw. The fox slowly turns to make eye contact, then raises the gun to his shoulder. The noble gets up and begins to run as his shoulder is peppered with lead. He stumbles a bit, but keeps running as the pain is rapidly replaced with a strange sort of tingling pleasure. Poison. The bullets were poisoned. Why? He sprints, hearing the slow, deliberate steps behind him. The whistling lullaby. Everything seems so soothing, and there's so long to go. It would be so easy to just lay down. But he has to run. He needs to get back home. Warn the others.
Out of the deep shadows of a crooked tree springs the crooked form of the round face ghoul with the cardboard crown. His chubby lips are spread thin by a wide, manic smile and his voice speaks out, "Good afternoon!"
The noble is distracted for a second. But that's all it takes. He trips over a root and falls to his hands and knees before raising his gun one-handed to fire at the ghoul. It clicks empty. He falls to his face, breathing in the moist, decaying air. The plodding footsteps are getting closer. Run, run, run. Wait. He knows this ghoul. A faint memory. An ally he met? A bedtime story he was told? Whatever. It's a chance. "H-help... please..."
Fat Face blinks. He lurches forward, his mouth a gaping, hungry cavern... but he stops. The frustration that was building up about not being properly addressed is temporarily replaced with confusion. This isn't how most people he met reacted to his attacks. The 'please' was common. They often begged for their lives. But what was different? His wide mouth opens and shuts in thought as he mulls it over. It's the 'help' that tripped him up. He didn't often hear the word directed toward him. Especially not from a scrumptious looking victim seasoned and spiced with fragrant, mouth watering poison in a fresh wound. The strange begging may have slowed him down, but his mind is starting to be overrun by the dark impulses of his gut. Fat Face croaks, "Help. Help. You think you need help?" His bulging cheeks jiggle has he shakes his head sadly.
*Just had cake for my brother's birthday! Also, I gtg soon.*
The noble looks up. He can't help but smile, giggling. "Y-yeah. My momma always told me that... that... help... um..." his voice gets quieter. "I... uh..." He rests his cheek against the detritus and fallen leaves of the forest floor. "I..." His breathing slows, calming. He closes his eyes, resting. Aeon is close, but his painfully slow stride remains unchanged.
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.
He seems unbothered by it. Simply picking them up and placing them into the cart. He then pulls the cart and himself into a shadow, appearing in another shadow closer to the castle
The Autumn King stands alone near the open door of his Keep. His jack-o'-lantern helmet and scythe have disappeared. Surrounding him is gathered a silent mass of headless skeletons.
His flickering eyes watch you as your laden cart approaches. "I see the harvest was plentiful."
He seems unbothered by it. Simply picking them up and placing them into the cart. He then pulls the cart and himself into a shadow, appearing in another shadow closer to the castle
The Autumn King stands alone near the open door of his Keep. His jack-o'-lantern helmet and scythe have disappeared. Surrounding him is gathered a silent mass of headless skeletons.
His flickering eyes watch you as your laden cart approaches. "I see the harvest was plentiful."
Out in the woods, a noble aims his rifle at a normal-looking deer. His hands are shaking, slick with sweat. "Just one more time..." he whispers. "Please, just let me do this one more time..."
He closes his eyes for a few seconds, steadying himself. He fires. When he opens his eyes again, they don't believe what they see. The deer is still there, injured, being petted by a fox-like man with a shotgun in his left paw. The fox slowly turns to make eye contact, then raises the gun to his shoulder. The noble gets up and begins to run as his shoulder is peppered with lead. He stumbles a bit, but keeps running as the pain is rapidly replaced with a strange sort of tingling pleasure. Poison. The bullets were poisoned. Why? He sprints, hearing the slow, deliberate steps behind him. The whistling lullaby. Everything seems so soothing, and there's so long to go. It would be so easy to just lay down. But he has to run. He needs to get back home. Warn the others.
Out of the deep shadows of a crooked tree springs the crooked form of the round face ghoul with the cardboard crown. His chubby lips are spread thin by a wide, manic smile and his voice speaks out, "Good afternoon!"
The noble is distracted for a second. But that's all it takes. He trips over a root and falls to his hands and knees before raising his gun one-handed to fire at the ghoul. It clicks empty. He falls to his face, breathing in the moist, decaying air. The plodding footsteps are getting closer. Run, run, run. Wait. He knows this ghoul. A faint memory. An ally he met? A bedtime story he was told? Whatever. It's a chance. "H-help... please..."
Fat Face blinks. He lurches forward, his mouth a gaping, hungry cavern... but he stops. The frustration that was building up about not being properly addressed is temporarily replaced with confusion. This isn't how most people he met reacted to his attacks. The 'please' was common. They often begged for their lives. But what was different? His wide mouth opens and shuts in thought as he mulls it over. It's the 'help' that tripped him up. He didn't often hear the word directed toward him. Especially not from a scrumptious looking victim seasoned and spiced with fragrant, mouth watering poison in a fresh wound. The strange begging may have slowed him down, but his mind is starting to be overrun by the dark impulses of his gut. Fat Face croaks, "Help. Help. You think you need help?" His bulging cheeks jiggle has he shakes his head sadly.
*Just had cake for my brother's birthday! Also, I gtg soon.*
The noble looks up. He can't help but smile, giggling. "Y-yeah. My momma always told me that... that... help... um..." his voice gets quieter. "I... uh..." He rests his cheek against the detritus and fallen leaves of the forest floor. "I..." His breathing slows, calming. He closes his eyes, resting. Aeon is close, but his painfully slow stride remains unchanged.
*Awesome, I had one of those recently.*
He stares at the man as he sinks to the ground, slobber sliding down his fat lip. He glances back up for a second and then wipes the slobber away with a bony wrist. The sound of Aeon's footsteps causes resentment for his impoliteness to bubble back up to the molding surface of his mind. Not only had Aeon failed to greet him back, he also killed Handsome. Handsome knew where all the best cemeteries were. He could keep track of which graves were regularly refilled. Handsome knew all the best places to eat, but now he was gone and Fat Face had never bothered to memorize the locations. His thickly fleshed forehead wrinkles with anger.
His long, skeletally thin arms shoot out and grab the noble, lifting him with remarkable ease over onto his back. With the dying burden hanging over his shoulders, Fat Face races off into the night.
*I never expected this character to develop or survive this long.*
He seems unbothered by it. Simply picking them up and placing them into the cart. He then pulls the cart and himself into a shadow, appearing in another shadow closer to the castle
The Autumn King stands alone near the open door of his Keep. His jack-o'-lantern helmet and scythe have disappeared. Surrounding him is gathered a silent mass of headless skeletons.
His flickering eyes watch you as your laden cart approaches. "I see the harvest was plentiful."
“Indeed it was. What do you need them for?”
"These poor, executed souls need something to crown their shoulders. Would you mind helping me pass them out?"
He seems unbothered by it. Simply picking them up and placing them into the cart. He then pulls the cart and himself into a shadow, appearing in another shadow closer to the castle
The Autumn King stands alone near the open door of his Keep. His jack-o'-lantern helmet and scythe have disappeared. Surrounding him is gathered a silent mass of headless skeletons.
His flickering eyes watch you as your laden cart approaches. "I see the harvest was plentiful."
“Indeed it was. What do you need them for?”
"These poor, executed souls need something to crown their shoulders. Would you mind helping me pass them out?"
“If you ask me, they shouldn’t still be walking if they’re dead. But I’m not the one in charge of death ‘round here.” He places the skulls on each of the skeleton’s body parts
"These poor, executed souls need something to crown their shoulders. Would you mind helping me pass them out?"
“If you ask me, they shouldn’t still be walking if they’re dead. But I’m not the one in charge of death ‘round here.” He places the skulls on each of the skeleton’s body parts
"I am." Augustus's voice rumbles with muffled, distant thunder. The skeletons grin at you, clack their teeth, rap their craniums with their bony knuckles, and bow dramatically as you provide them with skulls. "This is my country and who I let walk my land is my business. Autumn is a season of death and dying and it's a season of harvest and plenty. Just about everyone is welcome in my halls and my fields." He says as he hands skulls to the dead.
"These poor, executed souls need something to crown their shoulders. Would you mind helping me pass them out?"
“If you ask me, they shouldn’t still be walking if they’re dead. But I’m not the one in charge of death ‘round here.” He places the skulls on each of the skeleton’s body parts
"I am." Augustus's voice rumbles with muffled, distant thunder. The skeletons grin at you, clack their teeth, rap their craniums with their bony knuckles, and bow dramatically as you provide them with skulls. "This is my country and who I let walk my land is my business. Autumn is a season of death and dying and it's a season of harvest and plenty. Just about everyone is welcome in my halls and my fields." He says as he hands skulls to the dead.
“You rule your lands the way you please. I shan’t stop you from doing so.” He places the last skull down “You know, you sound a lot like the Baron. Have you met him before?”
"These poor, executed souls need something to crown their shoulders. Would you mind helping me pass them out?"
“If you ask me, they shouldn’t still be walking if they’re dead. But I’m not the one in charge of death ‘round here.” He places the skulls on each of the skeleton’s body parts
"I am." Augustus's voice rumbles with muffled, distant thunder. The skeletons grin at you, clack their teeth, rap their craniums with their bony knuckles, and bow dramatically as you provide them with skulls. "This is my country and who I let walk my land is my business. Autumn is a season of death and dying and it's a season of harvest and plenty. Just about everyone is welcome in my halls and my fields." He says as he hands skulls to the dead.
“You rule your lands the way you please. I shan’t stop you from doing so.” He places the last skull down “You know, you sound a lot like the Baron. Have you met him before?”
"I've met many Barons. Which one do you speak of?" The last skeleton leaps into the air and clicks his bony heels together before walking off.
On the side of the Keep stands a single wooden barrel, slightly at an angle because of the hill the Keep sits on.
The beating of the dragons wings as it approaches send small debris flying. Including, potentially the barrel.
The barrel, a good size, easily able to hold a grown human, doesn't budge. The thick lid on top sits slightly ajar though, and the dragon-made wind slides it further open, revealing a dark, unidentifiable liquid. That might be why it didn't move.
The dragon lands, the sound of stone and wood slightly cracking from the weight but not fully failing. It smells the liquid and puts the cover back, before grabbing the barrel and bringing it to a lower level.
The liquid smells like plain drinking water, with a slight, slight sweetness.
Once set back down (I'm assuming that's what happens), the lid pops open of its own accord yet again. This time, a few delicious looking red apples bob in the water, glistening in the low light. The wooden lid, upon closer inspection, has a carved inscription in it, reading "DON'T CHEAT."
“If you plan on eating me through deception, know that death goes two ways.” They lower their beak like snout and try to grab one of the apples.
No response. The apple tastes wonderfully refreshing and sweet, you have no trouble obtaining and consuming it.
Normally I'd ask for a Perception check, but this dragon will notice. The otherwise still water in the barrel begins to vibrate periodically, about 2 or 3 times per second.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
⌜╔═════════════The Board══════════════╗⌝
...and started me on my way into my next chapter in life...
Another dark wooden barrel sits somewhere in the woods, definitely out of place.
A large, orange hunting hound with pointed ears and a fox tail sniffs around the barrel.
It smells like wood, water, and sweetness. The lid suddenly slides off the side, landing in a leaning position and conveniently forming a small ramp to the open top for the hound.
It takes a step back before tentatively taking the step up to look down into the barrel.
As it steps, a carved inscription under its paw reads "DON'T CHEAT."
Inside of the barrel floats a few delicious, red apples in dark but clean-looking water.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
⌜╔═════════════The Board══════════════╗⌝
...and started me on my way into my next chapter in life...
The noble is distracted for a second. But that's all it takes. He trips over a root and falls to his hands and knees before raising his gun one-handed to fire at the ghoul. It clicks empty. He falls to his face, breathing in the moist, decaying air. The plodding footsteps are getting closer. Run, run, run. Wait. He knows this ghoul. A faint memory. An ally he met? A bedtime story he was told? Whatever. It's a chance. "H-help... please..."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*boink*
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles)
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
“Everywhere. And nowhere.”
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
He takes them off their vines, splitting them open with his skeletal left hand, and taking a look at what’s inside
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
"that doesn't make any sense, mr baron"
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles)
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
*Cut with fry*
”No. No it does not.” He doesn’t elaborate
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
Fat Face blinks. He lurches forward, his mouth a gaping, hungry cavern... but he stops. The frustration that was building up about not being properly addressed is temporarily replaced with confusion. This isn't how most people he met reacted to his attacks. The 'please' was common. They often begged for their lives. But what was different? His wide mouth opens and shuts in thought as he mulls it over. It's the 'help' that tripped him up. He didn't often hear the word directed toward him. Especially not from a scrumptious looking victim seasoned and spiced with fragrant, mouth watering poison in a fresh wound. The strange begging may have slowed him down, but his mind is starting to be overrun by the dark impulses of his gut. Fat Face croaks, "Help. Help. You think you need help?" His bulging cheeks jiggle has he shakes his head sadly.
As you pick them up, you hear something rattle in the hollow of each pumpkin. Upon opening up the gourd, you see a human skull, pasted with slime and dripping with pulp, staring out at you with empty sockets.
He seems unbothered by it. Simply picking them up and placing them into the cart. He then pulls the cart and himself into a shadow, appearing in another shadow closer to the castle
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
*Just had cake for my brother's birthday! Also, I gtg soon.*
The noble looks up. He can't help but smile, giggling. "Y-yeah. My momma always told me that... that... help... um..." his voice gets quieter. "I... uh..." He rests his cheek against the detritus and fallen leaves of the forest floor. "I..." His breathing slows, calming. He closes his eyes, resting. Aeon is close, but his painfully slow stride remains unchanged.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The Autumn King stands alone near the open door of his Keep. His jack-o'-lantern helmet and scythe have disappeared. Surrounding him is gathered a silent mass of headless skeletons.
His flickering eyes watch you as your laden cart approaches. "I see the harvest was plentiful."
“Indeed it was. What do you need them for?”
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
*Awesome, I had one of those recently.*
He stares at the man as he sinks to the ground, slobber sliding down his fat lip. He glances back up for a second and then wipes the slobber away with a bony wrist. The sound of Aeon's footsteps causes resentment for his impoliteness to bubble back up to the molding surface of his mind. Not only had Aeon failed to greet him back, he also killed Handsome. Handsome knew where all the best cemeteries were. He could keep track of which graves were regularly refilled. Handsome knew all the best places to eat, but now he was gone and Fat Face had never bothered to memorize the locations. His thickly fleshed forehead wrinkles with anger.
His long, skeletally thin arms shoot out and grab the noble, lifting him with remarkable ease over onto his back. With the dying burden hanging over his shoulders, Fat Face races off into the night.
*I never expected this character to develop or survive this long.*
"These poor, executed souls need something to crown their shoulders. Would you mind helping me pass them out?"
“If you ask me, they shouldn’t still be walking if they’re dead. But I’m not the one in charge of death ‘round here.” He places the skulls on each of the skeleton’s body parts
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
"I am." Augustus's voice rumbles with muffled, distant thunder. The skeletons grin at you, clack their teeth, rap their craniums with their bony knuckles, and bow dramatically as you provide them with skulls. "This is my country and who I let walk my land is my business. Autumn is a season of death and dying and it's a season of harvest and plenty. Just about everyone is welcome in my halls and my fields." He says as he hands skulls to the dead.
“You rule your lands the way you please. I shan’t stop you from doing so.” He places the last skull down “You know, you sound a lot like the Baron. Have you met him before?”
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
"I've met many Barons. Which one do you speak of?" The last skeleton leaps into the air and clicks his bony heels together before walking off.
No response. The apple tastes wonderfully refreshing and sweet, you have no trouble obtaining and consuming it.
Normally I'd ask for a Perception check, but this dragon will notice. The otherwise still water in the barrel begins to vibrate periodically, about 2 or 3 times per second.
⌜╔═════════════ The Board ══════════════╗⌝
...and started me on my way into my next chapter in life...
⌞╚════════════ Extended Signature ════════════╝⌟
As it steps, a carved inscription under its paw reads "DON'T CHEAT."
Inside of the barrel floats a few delicious, red apples in dark but clean-looking water.
⌜╔═════════════ The Board ══════════════╗⌝
...and started me on my way into my next chapter in life...
⌞╚════════════ Extended Signature ════════════╝⌟