“How ‘bout you don’t kill them just yet, bring them to me, and we’ll see then. Does that sounds good?” He says, completely calm. He opens his pouch, Collin coming out as a blob of Liquid Metal, forming the leech colony next to Ratch.
An annoyed expression crosses his face briefly but then he is bolts into a corner crashing into a tool box and sending the constructive contents flying. He thrashes about for a second but his jaws quickly clamp onto something. He plods back over with a something thrashing about inside his mouth. It has long barbed legs that thrash about and remind you of a locust. It's skin is a rust red and it's goblin-like face is contorted in anger. Two screws spiral out of its forehead point first like horns. Ratch drops it and swiftly pins it to the ground with a forepaw. "Nasty little imps. They'll mess up any sort of mechanical creation they can get their rusty little hands on."
Jason walks from behind the counter, squatting down to get a better look at the creature, Collin barely restrained from tearing it apart with its many many rows of sharp metal teeth “Thank you for that, mate. Now, you.” He taps his wrench on the head of the creature “If you mess with any of my things without my permission, Ratch will kill you. Right Ratch?”
“How ‘bout you don’t kill them just yet, bring them to me, and we’ll see then. Does that sounds good?” He says, completely calm. He opens his pouch, Collin coming out as a blob of Liquid Metal, forming the leech colony next to Ratch.
An annoyed expression crosses his face briefly but then he is bolts into a corner crashing into a tool box and sending the constructive contents flying. He thrashes about for a second but his jaws quickly clamp onto something. He plods back over with a something thrashing about inside his mouth. It has long barbed legs that thrash about and remind you of a locust. It's skin is a rust red and it's goblin-like face is contorted in anger. Two screws spiral out of its forehead point first like horns. Ratch drops it and swiftly pins it to the ground with a forepaw. "Nasty little imps. They'll mess up any sort of mechanical creation they can get their rusty little hands on."
Jason walks from behind the counter, squatting down to get a better look at the creature, Collin barely restrained from tearing it apart with its many many rows of sharp metal teeth “Thank you for that, mate. Now, you.” He taps his wrench on the head of the creature “If you mess with any of my things without my permission, Ratch will kill you. Right Ratch?”
"If that serves you best."
The Gremlin squeals and spits, "Iwuzzn'tdooinnuthin!Nuthin!"
Appreciator of all things Weird, Wondrous, and/or Yummy
In the Autumn Country, days end quickly, the gloaming hours linger, and the midnights pile one upon the other till the air is thick and flows like twilight syrup.
A new person has arrived in a Volkswagen Beetle. It's ancient, of course, but well-maintained. It is painted a bright scarlet, and pulls a trailer behind it, which, judging by its appearance, was rented from a moving company. The driver pulls up in front of a long-abandoned house, recently sold. The kind of thing witches of spooky proclivities cultivate over decades, letting the floorboards grow creaky, cobwebs grow thick, and the memories ferment. The furniture, covered in sheets and dust, look like ghosts, and in a way they are. Echoes of an old life, unable to pass on due to their purpose remaining unfulfilled.
The driver steps out of the little car, putting the end of his fancy walking stick first. It is painted with all sorts of bugs, primarily centipedes, spiders, and moths. He wears a sweater, jeans, an open tweed coat, a rust-colored bucket hat, and a bolo tie with amber in the middle, and in the middle of that is a beautifully, perfectly posed and placed fly. Oh, and the man who steps out is also a ferret. He has silver hair atop his head in a simple side-parted style, mostly covered by his dumb hat, but otherwise the only light part of his fur is around his mouth and down his front. He looks around, pulls the paper wrapper off an artisan lollipop, and puts it in his mouth.
He walks back and opens his trunk, revealing the stacks of books held within and held together by cords. They cover a wide variety of topics: science, magic, philosophy, insects, folklore, cooking and etiquette. He looks down at the stacks of tomes, then at his hiking cane. He leans his elbow on the staff as he polishes his big, round glasses with a microfiber cloth, thinking for a good few minutes.
“How ‘bout you don’t kill them just yet, bring them to me, and we’ll see then. Does that sounds good?” He says, completely calm. He opens his pouch, Collin coming out as a blob of Liquid Metal, forming the leech colony next to Ratch.
An annoyed expression crosses his face briefly but then he is bolts into a corner crashing into a tool box and sending the constructive contents flying. He thrashes about for a second but his jaws quickly clamp onto something. He plods back over with a something thrashing about inside his mouth. It has long barbed legs that thrash about and remind you of a locust. It's skin is a rust red and it's goblin-like face is contorted in anger. Two screws spiral out of its forehead point first like horns. Ratch drops it and swiftly pins it to the ground with a forepaw. "Nasty little imps. They'll mess up any sort of mechanical creation they can get their rusty little hands on."
Jason walks from behind the counter, squatting down to get a better look at the creature, Collin barely restrained from tearing it apart with its many many rows of sharp metal teeth “Thank you for that, mate. Now, you.” He taps his wrench on the head of the creature “If you mess with any of my things without my permission, Ratch will kill you. Right Ratch?”
"If that serves you best."
The Gremlin squeals and spits, "Iwuzzn'tdooinnuthin!Nuthin!"
“Thank you Ratch. If Ratch doesn’t kill you, Collin will. What is your name Gremlin? Because you work for me now.” He says, standing back up.
A new person has arrived in a Volkswagen Beetle. It's ancient, of course, but well-maintained. It is painted a bright scarlet, and pulls a trailer behind it, which, judging by its appearance, was rented from a moving company. The driver pulls up in front of a long-abandoned house, recently sold. The kind of thing witches of spooky proclivities cultivate over decades, letting the floorboards grow creaky, cobwebs grow thick, and the memories ferment. The furniture, covered in sheets and dust, look like ghosts, and in a way they are. Echoes of an old life, unable to pass on due to their purpose remaining unfulfilled.
The driver steps out of the little car, putting the end of his fancy walking stick first. It is painted with all sorts of bugs, primarily centipedes, spiders, and moths. He wears a sweater, jeans, an open tweed coat, a rust-colored bucket hat, and a bolo tie with amber in the middle, and in the middle of that is a beautifully, perfectly posed and placed fly. Oh, and the man who steps out is also a ferret. He has silver hair atop his head in a simple side-parted style, mostly covered by his dumb hat, but otherwise the only light part of his fur is around his mouth and down his front. He looks around, pulls the paper wrapper off an artisan lollipop, and puts it in his mouth.
He walks back and opens his trunk, revealing the stacks of books held within and held together by cords. They cover a wide variety of topics: science, magic, philosophy, insects, folklore, cooking and etiquette. He looks down at the stacks of tomes, then at his hiking cane. He leans his elbow on the staff as he polishes his big, round glasses with a microfiber cloth, thinking for a good few minutes.
*I don't know how much longer I can stay.*
Curled up on the front steps of your new house is a shaggy, brown haired dog. The peculiar thing about this dog is that it has no snout or wet black nose. No lolling tongue or muzzle. Rather the snoozing face that rests on its paws is that of a man with a bearded chin.
Appreciator of all things Weird, Wondrous, and/or Yummy
In the Autumn Country, days end quickly, the gloaming hours linger, and the midnights pile one upon the other till the air is thick and flows like twilight syrup.
Nicnevin, now seeming about 45 years older than she was but a few days ago, is at her garden, harvesting mandrakes and aconite. Her now mostly gray hair is a tangled mess, her hands are gnarled claws, and she’s hunched over, which makes her about a foot shorter. (8 ft.) she mumbles something underneath her breath, a poem or a spell. The clouds part in the sky above her garden, revealing a waning crescent moon.
Cassandra approaches with a basket
“Nevin? I brought your stuff”
Nicnevin turns to Cassandra. “Oh, simply wonderful… I must thank you again for your help, Cassandra…” she takes the basket, inspecting its contents.
It’s the ingredients she asked for and the special elixir
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) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire who's always open to chat or share a fun fact or two. I’m ace I'm a sensitive little sad bean. 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, and certified silly goose
“How ‘bout you don’t kill them just yet, bring them to me, and we’ll see then. Does that sounds good?” He says, completely calm. He opens his pouch, Collin coming out as a blob of Liquid Metal, forming the leech colony next to Ratch.
An annoyed expression crosses his face briefly but then he is bolts into a corner crashing into a tool box and sending the constructive contents flying. He thrashes about for a second but his jaws quickly clamp onto something. He plods back over with a something thrashing about inside his mouth. It has long barbed legs that thrash about and remind you of a locust. It's skin is a rust red and it's goblin-like face is contorted in anger. Two screws spiral out of its forehead point first like horns. Ratch drops it and swiftly pins it to the ground with a forepaw. "Nasty little imps. They'll mess up any sort of mechanical creation they can get their rusty little hands on."
Jason walks from behind the counter, squatting down to get a better look at the creature, Collin barely restrained from tearing it apart with its many many rows of sharp metal teeth “Thank you for that, mate. Now, you.” He taps his wrench on the head of the creature “If you mess with any of my things without my permission, Ratch will kill you. Right Ratch?”
"If that serves you best."
The Gremlin squeals and spits, "Iwuzzn'tdooinnuthin!Nuthin!"
“Thank you Ratch. If Ratch doesn’t kill you, Collin will. What is your name Gremlin? Because you work for me now.” He says, standing back up.
Appreciator of all things Weird, Wondrous, and/or Yummy
In the Autumn Country, days end quickly, the gloaming hours linger, and the midnights pile one upon the other till the air is thick and flows like twilight syrup.
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) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire who's always open to chat or share a fun fact or two. I’m ace I'm a sensitive little sad bean. 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, and certified silly goose
“How ‘bout you don’t kill them just yet, bring them to me, and we’ll see then. Does that sounds good?” He says, completely calm. He opens his pouch, Collin coming out as a blob of Liquid Metal, forming the leech colony next to Ratch.
An annoyed expression crosses his face briefly but then he is bolts into a corner crashing into a tool box and sending the constructive contents flying. He thrashes about for a second but his jaws quickly clamp onto something. He plods back over with a something thrashing about inside his mouth. It has long barbed legs that thrash about and remind you of a locust. It's skin is a rust red and it's goblin-like face is contorted in anger. Two screws spiral out of its forehead point first like horns. Ratch drops it and swiftly pins it to the ground with a forepaw. "Nasty little imps. They'll mess up any sort of mechanical creation they can get their rusty little hands on."
Jason walks from behind the counter, squatting down to get a better look at the creature, Collin barely restrained from tearing it apart with its many many rows of sharp metal teeth “Thank you for that, mate. Now, you.” He taps his wrench on the head of the creature “If you mess with any of my things without my permission, Ratch will kill you. Right Ratch?”
"If that serves you best."
The Gremlin squeals and spits, "Iwuzzn'tdooinnuthin!Nuthin!"
“Thank you Ratch. If Ratch doesn’t kill you, Collin will. What is your name Gremlin? Because you work for me now.” He says, standing back up.
“I can’t understand nearly any words you’re saying. Either you work for me, and you get to mess with machines all day, or you die. Simple options really.” He says, walking back behind the counter.
Atlas is pretty sure he doesn’t have to work at the moment, and is currently doing his side job, telling futures of the people who want to know them on a street corner, just having fun giving people a chance to se their fate.
Jason is still working in his shop, though smoke comes out from the slightly cracked more as he can be heard experimenting on making something greater than most of the things he has made.
A new person has arrived in a Volkswagen Beetle. It's ancient, of course, but well-maintained. It is painted a bright scarlet, and pulls a trailer behind it, which, judging by its appearance, was rented from a moving company. The driver pulls up in front of a long-abandoned house, recently sold. The kind of thing witches of spooky proclivities cultivate over decades, letting the floorboards grow creaky, cobwebs grow thick, and the memories ferment. The furniture, covered in sheets and dust, look like ghosts, and in a way they are. Echoes of an old life, unable to pass on due to their purpose remaining unfulfilled.
The driver steps out of the little car, putting the end of his fancy walking stick first. It is painted with all sorts of bugs, primarily centipedes, spiders, and moths. He wears a sweater, jeans, an open tweed coat, a rust-colored bucket hat, and a bolo tie with amber in the middle, and in the middle of that is a beautifully, perfectly posed and placed fly. Oh, and the man who steps out is also a ferret. He has silver hair atop his head in a simple side-parted style, mostly covered by his dumb hat, but otherwise the only light part of his fur is around his mouth and down his front. He looks around, pulls the paper wrapper off an artisan lollipop, and puts it in his mouth.
He walks back and opens his trunk, revealing the stacks of books held within and held together by cords. They cover a wide variety of topics: science, magic, philosophy, insects, folklore, cooking and etiquette. He looks down at the stacks of tomes, then at his hiking cane. He leans his elbow on the staff as he polishes his big, round glasses with a microfiber cloth, thinking for a good few minutes.
*I don't know how much longer I can stay.*
Curled up on the front steps of your new house is a shaggy, brown haired dog. The peculiar thing about this dog is that it has no snout or wet black nose. No lolling tongue or muzzle. Rather the snoozing face that rests on its paws is that of a man with a bearded chin.
*And that is fine. We can continue on a later date if need be.*
The ferret man puts his glasses back on, looks a bit surprised for a second, then walks over. He crouches down in front of it, not considering the possibility that it could be a threat. He does his best not to wake the beast as he admires it.
*And that is fine. We can continue on a later date if need be.*
The ferret man puts his glasses back on, looks a bit surprised for a second, then walks over. He crouches down in front of it, not considering the possibility that it could be a threat. He does his best not to wake the beast as he admires it.
*Sweet.*
After a few moments the thing's eyes open slowly to stare right at you. They glance at the car behind you and then back at your ferrety face. "Well call me Cerberus." speaks the dog-thing.
Appreciator of all things Weird, Wondrous, and/or Yummy
In the Autumn Country, days end quickly, the gloaming hours linger, and the midnights pile one upon the other till the air is thick and flows like twilight syrup.
“I can’t understand nearly any words you’re saying. Either you work for me, and you get to mess with machines all day, or you die. Simple options really.” He says, walking back behind the counter.
He gives a little cough. "Clempzcrew iz ma name iz whut I zaid and I thank I alzo zaid that I'd be happy to work for yoo."
Appreciator of all things Weird, Wondrous, and/or Yummy
In the Autumn Country, days end quickly, the gloaming hours linger, and the midnights pile one upon the other till the air is thick and flows like twilight syrup.
Atlas is pretty sure he doesn’t have to work at the moment, and is currently doing his side job, telling futures of the people who want to know them on a street corner, just having fun giving people a chance to see their fate.
Jason is still working in his shop, though smoke comes out from the slightly cracked more as he can be heard experimenting on making something greater than most of the things he has made.
The ferret man with the bucket hat and bug-themed cane walks over, taking in the scenery. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded handkerchief with something in it. "Hello. Are you working right now?"
“I can’t understand nearly any words you’re saying. Either you work for me, and you get to mess with machines all day, or you die. Simple options really.” He says, walking back behind the counter.
He gives a little cough. "Clempzcrew iz ma name iz whut I zaid and I thank I alzo zaid that I'd be happy to work for yoo."
He nods slowly “Okay, I’m going to call you Clem. I’m Jason, Jason Asano.” He gestures for them to come behind the counter with them, Collin disappointed they don’t get to tear them apart.
Atlas is pretty sure he doesn’t have to work at the moment, and is currently doing his side job, telling futures of the people who want to know them on a street corner, just having fun giving people a chance to see their fate.
Jason is still working in his shop, though smoke comes out from the slightly cracked more as he can be heard experimenting on making something greater than most of the things he has made.
The ferret man with the bucket hat and bug-themed cane walks over, taking in the scenery. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded handkerchief with something in it. "Hello. Are you working right now?"
He looks down at them, fluffing his mane and smiling at them “I do happen to be working right now, would you like your future read my friend?” He asks, shuffling the cards with a charismatic grin.
*And that is fine. We can continue on a later date if need be.*
The ferret man puts his glasses back on, looks a bit surprised for a second, then walks over. He crouches down in front of it, not considering the possibility that it could be a threat. He does his best not to wake the beast as he admires it.
*Sweet.*
After a few moments the thing's eyes open slowly to stare right at you. They glance at the car behind you and then back at your ferrety face. "Well call me Cerberus." speaks the dog-thing.
He stands up to give them some personal space and takes the lollipop out of his mouth. He grunts a bit as he pulls himself up on his cane. "Cerberus... are you a guardian of sorts?"
“I can’t understand nearly any words you’re saying. Either you work for me, and you get to mess with machines all day, or you die. Simple options really.” He says, walking back behind the counter.
He gives a little cough. "Clempzcrew iz ma name iz whut I zaid and I thank I alzo zaid that I'd be happy to work for yoo."
He nods slowly “Okay, I’m going to call you Clem. I’m Jason, Jason Asano.” He gestures for them to come behind the counter with them, Collin disappointed they don’t get to tear them apart.
He leaps from the floor, through the air and over the counter with one great motion. "Call me Clem all yoo like, Jazon Azano!"
Appreciator of all things Weird, Wondrous, and/or Yummy
In the Autumn Country, days end quickly, the gloaming hours linger, and the midnights pile one upon the other till the air is thick and flows like twilight syrup.
The ferret man with the bucket hat and bug-themed cane walks over, taking in the scenery. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded handkerchief with something in it. "Hello. Are you working right now?"
He looks down at them, fluffing his mane and smiling at them “I do happen to be working right now, would you like your future read my friend?” He asks, shuffling the cards with a charismatic grin.
He shakes his head, his glasses becoming crooked. "No thank you. Learning about my future usually just stresses me out, even if it does turn out to be a good thing." He holds out the folded piece of cloth. "Do you like beetles? I found a really nice one."
buff has found a little bluejay. "say" he says, drawing on his hand as he speaks "you wouldn't happen to have seen a big animal hurt something like me, would you?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Race: Not Human. that's for sure
Class: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes/general of the goose horde
Alignment: Lawful Evil
fun fact: i gain more power the more you post on my forum threads. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
The Archmage of I CAST...!Run From The Big Bad Wolf Here
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Jason walks from behind the counter, squatting down to get a better look at the creature, Collin barely restrained from tearing it apart with its many many rows of sharp metal teeth “Thank you for that, mate. Now, you.” He taps his wrench on the head of the creature “If you mess with any of my things without my permission, Ratch will kill you. Right Ratch?”
"If that serves you best."
The Gremlin squeals and spits, "Iwuzzn'tdooinnuthin!Nuthin!"
A new person has arrived in a Volkswagen Beetle. It's ancient, of course, but well-maintained. It is painted a bright scarlet, and pulls a trailer behind it, which, judging by its appearance, was rented from a moving company. The driver pulls up in front of a long-abandoned house, recently sold. The kind of thing witches of spooky proclivities cultivate over decades, letting the floorboards grow creaky, cobwebs grow thick, and the memories ferment. The furniture, covered in sheets and dust, look like ghosts, and in a way they are. Echoes of an old life, unable to pass on due to their purpose remaining unfulfilled.
The driver steps out of the little car, putting the end of his fancy walking stick first. It is painted with all sorts of bugs, primarily centipedes, spiders, and moths. He wears a sweater, jeans, an open tweed coat, a rust-colored bucket hat, and a bolo tie with amber in the middle, and in the middle of that is a beautifully, perfectly posed and placed fly. Oh, and the man who steps out is also a ferret. He has silver hair atop his head in a simple side-parted style, mostly covered by his dumb hat, but otherwise the only light part of his fur is around his mouth and down his front. He looks around, pulls the paper wrapper off an artisan lollipop, and puts it in his mouth.
He walks back and opens his trunk, revealing the stacks of books held within and held together by cords. They cover a wide variety of topics: science, magic, philosophy, insects, folklore, cooking and etiquette. He looks down at the stacks of tomes, then at his hiking cane. He leans his elbow on the staff as he polishes his big, round glasses with a microfiber cloth, thinking for a good few minutes.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
“Thank you Ratch. If Ratch doesn’t kill you, Collin will. What is your name Gremlin? Because you work for me now.” He says, standing back up.
*I don't know how much longer I can stay.*
Curled up on the front steps of your new house is a shaggy, brown haired dog. The peculiar thing about this dog is that it has no snout or wet black nose. No lolling tongue or muzzle. Rather the snoozing face that rests on its paws is that of a man with a bearded chin.
It’s the ingredients she asked for and the special elixir
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)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire who's always open to chat or share a fun fact or two. I’m ace
I'm a sensitive little sad bean. 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, and certified silly goose
"Clempzcrew. Thatizmaname. HooztoozayIeevenwuntztoworkforyoo?"
Ratch gives Collin a strange look.
*you were trying to investigate, right*
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)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire who's always open to chat or share a fun fact or two. I’m ace
I'm a sensitive little sad bean. 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, and certified silly goose
All of the leeches look back at Ratch.
“I can’t understand nearly any words you’re saying. Either you work for me, and you get to mess with machines all day, or you die. Simple options really.” He says, walking back behind the counter.
*Anybody else?*
*And that is fine. We can continue on a later date if need be.*
The ferret man puts his glasses back on, looks a bit surprised for a second, then walks over. He crouches down in front of it, not considering the possibility that it could be a threat. He does his best not to wake the beast as he admires it.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
*Sweet.*
After a few moments the thing's eyes open slowly to stare right at you. They glance at the car behind you and then back at your ferrety face. "Well call me Cerberus." speaks the dog-thing.
He gives a little cough. "Clempzcrew iz ma name iz whut I zaid and I thank I alzo zaid that I'd be happy to work for yoo."
The ferret man with the bucket hat and bug-themed cane walks over, taking in the scenery. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded handkerchief with something in it. "Hello. Are you working right now?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
He nods slowly “Okay, I’m going to call you Clem. I’m Jason, Jason Asano.” He gestures for them to come behind the counter with them, Collin disappointed they don’t get to tear them apart.
He looks down at them, fluffing his mane and smiling at them “I do happen to be working right now, would you like your future read my friend?” He asks, shuffling the cards with a charismatic grin.
He stands up to give them some personal space and takes the lollipop out of his mouth. He grunts a bit as he pulls himself up on his cane. "Cerberus... are you a guardian of sorts?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
He leaps from the floor, through the air and over the counter with one great motion. "Call me Clem all yoo like, Jazon Azano!"
He shakes his head, his glasses becoming crooked. "No thank you. Learning about my future usually just stresses me out, even if it does turn out to be a good thing." He holds out the folded piece of cloth. "Do you like beetles? I found a really nice one."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
buff has found a little bluejay. "say" he says, drawing on his hand as he speaks "you wouldn't happen to have seen a big animal hurt something like me, would you?"
Race: Not Human. that's for sure
Class: Godless monster in human form bent on extending their natural life to unnatural extremes/general of the goose horde
Alignment: Lawful Evil
fun fact: i gain more power the more you post on my forum threads. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
The Archmage of I CAST...! Run From The Big Bad Wolf Here