You have tracked down a small gathering of ghouls to a specific graveyard. Huge, black iron gates stand in the way of your entrance.
Fahkar springs upward, grabbing onto the gate, and near-effortlessly climbs the rest of the way before jumping down the other side. They check their surroundings quickly.
Dry yellow grass threatens to swallow up the ancient gravestones marking forgotten tombs. A cool thin mist slithers through the hollows of this cemetery and bald headed buzzards pin wheel up in the sky. Two shrunken figures dart out from behind a shattered, stone angel. They speed between the stones with an ape-like crawl, heading deep into the death yard.
Fahkar follows them quickly and silently, waiting to see which grave they go to.
You hear scraps of their whispers drift by on the mist.
"But Mister President, sir, what if he followed us?"
"You mustn't worry Archchancellor, he's been left in the dust."
"Will the Lady be mad?"
They zig zag through the graves with seemingly random movements, eventually arriving at a tall headstone that is set apart from the others.
Fahkar doesn't make any sense of what they're saying, but decides to transmit his presence into the ghoul's minds via giving an intense sense of discomfort and unsettledness.
The ghouls begin to scramble about worriedly, making agitated choking sounds in the back of their throats. Then they leap at the tombstone and pound on it with their fists shouting, “Let us in! Let us in!”
Fahkar draws his longsword hilt. A blade made of the light of dawn springs from the handle. WIthout a word, Fahkar advances on the stricken ghouls.
They cower as the light falls on their sickly, shriveled skin. The two shrunken men beat on the stone with desperate fists.
And then it slides open. The tombstone swings forward like a door and behind it stands a deep darkness. Two yellow eyes look out at you. Massive yellow eyes the size of pumpkins. Then a deep, gravelly voice bellows, “You dare strike at one of our kind at the threshold of a ghoul gate?”
"I have not struck yet, though It will not be long." Fahkar is completely unfazed.
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Hi! I'm EJO. I am a silly billy who forgets to play Genshin Impact every day and totally DOESN'T simp for at least three different ninja girls. Some other facts about me:
Milio has been ditched. Now Xerath is my friend.
My average accuracy in Marvel Rivals is about 15%.
Helianth has grown tired of its current perch. Its roots tear themselves from the earth as it creeps forwards in the direction of the sun, hoping to absorb a last few rays of light before night arrives.
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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)
*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.”
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
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Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Helianth has grown tired of its current perch. Its roots tear themselves from the earth as it creeps forwards in the direction of the sun, hoping to absorb a last few rays of light before night arrives.
“There are much more available tables to dine on then the heavenly one you strain at.” Says a voice coming from the shadows of a leaf bare tree. Two triangle eyes flicker with candlelight above a jagged grin.
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Helianth has grown tired of its current perch. Its roots tear themselves from the earth as it creeps forwards in the direction of the sun, hoping to absorb a last few rays of light before night arrives.
“There are much more available tables to dine on then the heavenly one you strain at.” Says a voice coming from the shadows of a leaf bare tree. Two triangle eyes flicker with candlelight above a jagged grin.
One of the sunflower's heads turns to face the voice in the tree, the rest still taking in light. "...Material... feasts... do nothing... to sate... my hunger..."
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)
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
The ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
The ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon raises his hand as the fire is sucked back into his palm, he keeps his spear in one hand as he cautiously approaches the lump
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Helianth has grown tired of its current perch. Its roots tear themselves from the earth as it creeps forwards in the direction of the sun, hoping to absorb a last few rays of light before night arrives.
“There are much more available tables to dine on then the heavenly one you strain at.” Says a voice coming from the shadows of a leaf bare tree. Two triangle eyes flicker with candlelight above a jagged grin.
One of the sunflower's heads turns to face the voice in the tree, the rest still taking in light. "...Material... feasts... do nothing... to sate... my hunger..."
The glowing eyes and mouth are snuffed out in a cold wind. The wind blows a cluster of reddened leaves that flutter closer before coalescing into the shape of a tall, strong man with a bushy beard of leaves. “Then you may hunger like all the rest of us, for the sun is farther away from here than it appears. Here, the sun is eternally saying farewell.”
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
The ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon raises his hand as the fire is sucked back into his palm, he keeps his spear in one hand as he cautiously approaches the lump
The air grows colder as you approach the cocoon shaped pod. It seems to suck all the remaining heat from the dying embers until they are as cool as stone. It throbs softly, hungry for more heat.
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
The ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon raises his hand as the fire is sucked back into his palm, he keeps his spear in one hand as he cautiously approaches the lump
The air grows colder as you approach the cocoon shaped pod. It seems to suck all the remaining heat from the dying embers until they are as cool as stone. It throbs softly, hungry for more heat.
He pokes it with the tip of his spear, ready to slay it if deemed necessary.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Helianth has grown tired of its current perch. Its roots tear themselves from the earth as it creeps forwards in the direction of the sun, hoping to absorb a last few rays of light before night arrives.
“There are much more available tables to dine on then the heavenly one you strain at.” Says a voice coming from the shadows of a leaf bare tree. Two triangle eyes flicker with candlelight above a jagged grin.
One of the sunflower's heads turns to face the voice in the tree, the rest still taking in light. "...Material... feasts... do nothing... to sate... my hunger..."
The glowing eyes and mouth are snuffed out in a cold wind. The wind blows a cluster of reddened leaves that flutter closer before coalescing into the shape of a tall, strong man with a bushy beard of leaves. “Then you may hunger like all the rest of us, for the sun is farther away from here than it appears. Here, the sun is eternally saying farewell.”
The gargantuan husk of a sunflower fully turns towards the man, only one flower absorbing the light. "...Who... are you?.." For the briefest moment, the man can see the sunlight physically being absorbed into its flowers- snuffed out in an unseen void behind its 'faces'.
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)
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
The ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon raises his hand as the fire is sucked back into his palm, he keeps his spear in one hand as he cautiously approaches the lump
The air grows colder as you approach the cocoon shaped pod. It seems to suck all the remaining heat from the dying embers until they are as cool as stone. It throbs softly, hungry for more heat.
He pokes it with the tip of his spear, ready to slay it if deemed necessary.
The cocoon’s throbs increase when you poke it. The air around it becomes even colder.
The Boogeyman is lounging around in a pumpkin patch.
A small army of surreal golems made of chopped fruits, veggies, cheeses, and meats are marching toward the Keep in single file. Many of them have been partially eaten by wildlife. The one up front is completely intact and carrying a transparent bowl filled with some sort of thick, golden liquid that shimmers like a star.
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.
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
The ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon raises his hand as the fire is sucked back into his palm, he keeps his spear in one hand as he cautiously approaches the lump
The air grows colder as you approach the cocoon shaped pod. It seems to suck all the remaining heat from the dying embers until they are as cool as stone. It throbs softly, hungry for more heat.
He pokes it with the tip of his spear, ready to slay it if deemed necessary.
The cocoon’s throbs increase when you poke it. The air around it becomes even colder.
He shoves the spear through the cocoon
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Helianth has grown tired of its current perch. Its roots tear themselves from the earth as it creeps forwards in the direction of the sun, hoping to absorb a last few rays of light before night arrives.
“There are much more available tables to dine on then the heavenly one you strain at.” Says a voice coming from the shadows of a leaf bare tree. Two triangle eyes flicker with candlelight above a jagged grin.
One of the sunflower's heads turns to face the voice in the tree, the rest still taking in light. "...Material... feasts... do nothing... to sate... my hunger..."
The glowing eyes and mouth are snuffed out in a cold wind. The wind blows a cluster of reddened leaves that flutter closer before coalescing into the shape of a tall, strong man with a bushy beard of leaves. “Then you may hunger like all the rest of us, for the sun is farther away from here than it appears. Here, the sun is eternally saying farewell.”
The gargantuan husk of a sunflower fully turns towards the man, only one flower absorbing the light. "...Who... are you?.." For the briefest moment, the man can see the sunlight physically being absorbed into its flowers- snuffed out in an unseen void behind its 'faces'.
“I am Augustus, King of the Autumn Court,” He says, “and lord of this country. Who are you?”
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
The ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon raises his hand as the fire is sucked back into his palm, he keeps his spear in one hand as he cautiously approaches the lump
The air grows colder as you approach the cocoon shaped pod. It seems to suck all the remaining heat from the dying embers until they are as cool as stone. It throbs softly, hungry for more heat.
He pokes it with the tip of his spear, ready to slay it if deemed necessary.
The cocoon’s throbs increase when you poke it. The air around it becomes even colder.
He shoves the spear through the cocoon
It cracks open dryly and slowly crumbles away. Inside is a strange and terrible shape. A humanoid figure covered in thin, soft, grey hair sits tightly with its legs pulled up to its chest and its arms wrapped around its knees, as if it was freezing to death. Papery, wrinkled moth wings lie broken behind its back. The moth-man-thing has no mouth, no nose, no ears, and no eyes. Where its eyes should be, two feathery antennae curl instead, like fragile, insectile antlers.
Your spear is plunged directly into its heart.
A faint, shivering voice whispers through your mind, “An Omen today, has never spread its wings. It can’t be discerned, the killing of kings.”
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
The ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon raises his hand as the fire is sucked back into his palm, he keeps his spear in one hand as he cautiously approaches the lump
The air grows colder as you approach the cocoon shaped pod. It seems to suck all the remaining heat from the dying embers until they are as cool as stone. It throbs softly, hungry for more heat.
He pokes it with the tip of his spear, ready to slay it if deemed necessary.
The cocoon’s throbs increase when you poke it. The air around it becomes even colder.
He shoves the spear through the cocoon
It cracks open dryly and slowly crumbles away. Inside is a strange and terrible shape. A humanoid figure covered in thin, soft, grey hair sits tightly with its legs pulled up to its chest and its arms wrapped around its knees, as if it was freezing to death. Papery, wrinkled moth wings lie broken behind its back. The moth-man-thing has no mouth, no nose, no ears, and no eyes. Where its eyes should be, two feathery antennae curl instead, like fragile, insectile antlers.
Your spear is plunged directly into its heart.
A faint, shivering voice whispers through your mind, “An Omen today, has never spread its wings. It can’t be discerned, the killing of kings.”
"Dont speak in riddles." he says, pushing the spear further in its chest.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
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"I have not struck yet, though It will not be long." Fahkar is completely unfazed.
Hi! I'm EJO. I am a silly billy who forgets to play Genshin Impact every day and totally DOESN'T simp for at least three different ninja girls. Some other facts about me:
Milio has been ditched. Now Xerath is my friend.
My average accuracy in Marvel Rivals is about 15%.
I like cheese.
Helianth has grown tired of its current perch. Its roots tear themselves from the earth as it creeps forwards in the direction of the sun, hoping to absorb a last few rays of light before night arrives.
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)
*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.”
Apollon is standing amongst a bunch of dead corpses. Carnage of those who defend the Autumn King. Blood stains the ground and his spear as fire burns bright in his palm. He slowly and methodically torches the bodies.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“There are much more available tables to dine on then the heavenly one you strain at.” Says a voice coming from the shadows of a leaf bare tree. Two triangle eyes flicker with candlelight above a jagged grin.
You notice that the many moths begin to fill the air as you light your gruesome bonfire. They flutter about in silent circles before plunging into the flames and burning to ash.
Apollon smiles a bit stepping back once the bodies are ash, leaving the fire raging as a message.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
One of the sunflower's heads turns to face the voice in the tree, the rest still taking in light. "...Material... feasts... do nothing... to sate... my hunger..."
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 ashes of the fire begin to stir. As you strain to look through the intensity of the heat you see that the ashes are clumping together to form tiny bodies. They crawl up the pyre before joining together in a round lump blanketed in flames.
Apollon raises his hand as the fire is sucked back into his palm, he keeps his spear in one hand as he cautiously approaches the lump
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The glowing eyes and mouth are snuffed out in a cold wind. The wind blows a cluster of reddened leaves that flutter closer before coalescing into the shape of a tall, strong man with a bushy beard of leaves. “Then you may hunger like all the rest of us, for the sun is farther away from here than it appears. Here, the sun is eternally saying farewell.”
The air grows colder as you approach the cocoon shaped pod. It seems to suck all the remaining heat from the dying embers until they are as cool as stone. It throbs softly, hungry for more heat.
He pokes it with the tip of his spear, ready to slay it if deemed necessary.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The gargantuan husk of a sunflower fully turns towards the man, only one flower absorbing the light. "...Who... are you?.." For the briefest moment, the man can see the sunlight physically being absorbed into its flowers- snuffed out in an unseen void behind its 'faces'.
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 cocoon’s throbs increase when you poke it. The air around it becomes even colder.
The Boogeyman is lounging around in a pumpkin patch.
A small army of surreal golems made of chopped fruits, veggies, cheeses, and meats are marching toward the Keep in single file. Many of them have been partially eaten by wildlife. The one up front is completely intact and carrying a transparent bowl filled with some sort of thick, golden liquid that shimmers like a star.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He shoves the spear through the cocoon
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“I am Augustus, King of the Autumn Court,” He says, “and lord of this country. Who are you?”
It cracks open dryly and slowly crumbles away. Inside is a strange and terrible shape. A humanoid figure covered in thin, soft, grey hair sits tightly with its legs pulled up to its chest and its arms wrapped around its knees, as if it was freezing to death. Papery, wrinkled moth wings lie broken behind its back. The moth-man-thing has no mouth, no nose, no ears, and no eyes. Where its eyes should be, two feathery antennae curl instead, like fragile, insectile antlers.
Your spear is plunged directly into its heart.
A faint, shivering voice whispers through your mind, “An Omen today, has never spread its wings. It can’t be discerned, the killing of kings.”
"Dont speak in riddles." he says, pushing the spear further in its chest.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.