*hey, Yvonne, care to roleplay? I think it’d be fun if the Architect and the Mother of Puppets, both being one of the three or four nightmare lords around Balios, met.*
*Sure, I'd love to!*
The Architect's hunt has brought her to the Old Balios Bar. She contorts back into her humanoid guise before walking inside, scanning her surroundings for her targets.
The Old Balios bar has a rather unstable foundation, and the floorboards are rotting away slowly, revealing small gaps in the floor that lead to a dark abyss below. Furniture is broken, strewn about, and covered in cobwebs. There’s a staircase leading to the upper floor, an old record player on the bar, and behind the bar, a fully stocked shelf of dozens of different alcohols. She hears this… creaking, scuttling sound coming from above- no… below? Her. Like some giant, many-legged creature is stalking within the walls of the bar.
She smiles a bit behind her mask, walking across the rotting floorboards without any sound, as if she wasn't really there. "Who's there?" She asks without a hint of fear, sitting down on one of the cobweb-covered chairs and waiting.
The scuttling stops. Then, the record player starts up.
”who’s Fred Casely? My Ex-Boyfriend! Why’d ya shoot ‘em? I was leavin’! Was he angry? Like a madman!-“ the record player sings, a tune from an old musical.
The Architect sees as, without a bartender, a glass appears at the bar, and a bottle of whiskey lifts itself up and pours its contents into the glass. In an instant, a hand, wrapped in webbing and cloth, reaching from the ceiling, snatches up the glass, retreating to the darkness. The thing… Enormous, stealthy, and impossibly fast, scuttles along the ceiling towards the architect, dropping down behind her, but never hitting the ground, suspended by a thread of silk. Compared to the Architect’s currently humanish size, this thing is the size of a truck.
it sings along with the song. “Then what happened? He came toward me! With a pistol? From my bureau! Did ya fight ‘Em? Like a tiger! He had strength, and she had none! And yet we both reached for the gun!”
the record player quiets down, and the creature sighs in content. “It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors. Want a drink?”
The Architect is searching for her prey under the cover of darkness, crawling across rooftops and slinking through alleyways in a shadowy blur of skittering legs. She moves without sound, cloaking her audible presence rather than her visual appearance, her grim mask occasionally looking out of the darkness before vanishing again.
She will find them, soon enough.
She comes across the form of an unconscious humanoid curled up in one of the alleyways. It looks mostly human, though it is difficult to tell, as its limbs seem unnaturally elongated and its skin is deathly pale. It seems to be badly injured, whatever it is, covered in blood and bruises
There is a few seconds of the sound of snapping bones and shifting flesh, before the Architect walks over to the curled-up figure in her humanoid guise from the darkness of the alleyway. "What happened to you?.." She says to no one in particular, looking to see if they're still alive.
'Ughhh... he ....came for me. Guess I.... knew he would. Didn't think he'd bring a friend. I need help. Healing. Took a beating'
"I see... let me help you." Her arm shudders for a moment, before splitting down the middle with a sickening snap. Drops of black ichor- Dark Energy- fall from the arm onto their wounds. It doesn't quite heal them, but it does strengthen them enough to recover. (She transfers 4 points of her Dark Energy reserves to them)
'Uhh, thanks.' The figure stands up. 'Thank you so much. Don't trust the guy in the hazmat suit. Or the white tuxedo. I've dreamed about him, you see. I know he did this.'
"I won't. I'm actually looking for that same guy- he's got a bounty of sorts." She responds, her arm fitting back together. "If you want, we could track him down, teach him a lesson together."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
The Old Balios bar has a rather unstable foundation, and the floorboards are rotting away slowly, revealing small gaps in the floor that lead to a dark abyss below. Furniture is broken, strewn about, and covered in cobwebs. There’s a staircase leading to the upper floor, an old record player on the bar, and behind the bar, a fully stocked shelf of dozens of different alcohols. She hears this… creaking, scuttling sound coming from above- no… below? Her. Like some giant, many-legged creature is stalking within the walls of the bar.
She smiles a bit behind her mask, walking across the rotting floorboards without any sound, as if she wasn't really there. "Who's there?" She asks without a hint of fear, sitting down on one of the cobweb-covered chairs and waiting.
The scuttling stops. Then, the record player starts up.
”who’s Fred Casely? My Ex-Boyfriend! Why’d ya shoot ‘em? I was leavin’! Was he angry? Like a madman!-“ the record player sings, a tune from an old musical.
The Architect sees as, without a bartender, a glass appears at the bar, and a bottle of whiskey lifts itself up and pours its contents into the glass. In an instant, a hand, wrapped in webbing and cloth, reaching from the ceiling, snatches up the glass, retreating to the darkness. The thing… Enormous, stealthy, and impossibly fast, scuttles along the ceiling towards the architect, dropping down behind her, but never hitting the ground, suspended by a thread of silk. Compared to the Architect’s currently humanish size, this thing is the size of a truck.
it sings along with the song. “Then what happened? He came toward me! With a pistol? From my bureau! Did ya fight ‘Em? Like a tiger! He had strength, and she had none! And yet we both reached for the gun!”
the record player quiets down, and the creature sighs in content. “It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors. Want a drink?”
She turns around to face the fellow horror, grinning ear to ear, there being a faint sound of seams snapping as the sides of her disguise's tear open. "Just a water, please." She starts, turning her chair to face them. "Lovely place you have here. The decor is immaculate." She adds, wholly genuine in her compliments.
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)
*Quote chain cut* I try to hide the creature, trying to get it out of sight.
'Who's there?'
“Its just me, Chungar.” I say reassuringly.
'I need help. I should be dead, they beat me half to death. I don't know how long I can hold out'
“I can take you to safety, just hold on a little longer” I whisper. I start to carry Slink to a safe house. Once I get to my human home, I lay Slink on a couch and start to gather medical supplies to try to bandage his wounds.
*Medicine: 16*
The bandaging seems to work 'Thanks. You saved my life. Don't trust the hazmat guy. Or the white tuxedo guy. I've seen him in my dreams. He did this'
“I’ll take that to heart my good friend”
'And would you like to take this?' The Slink offers them a grimy rubber duck. 'Sorry, not that. That's Bob, he's my friend. Got the wrong thing'. He then offers them a wooden cross made from bound-together twigs
The Old Balios bar has a rather unstable foundation, and the floorboards are rotting away slowly, revealing small gaps in the floor that lead to a dark abyss below. Furniture is broken, strewn about, and covered in cobwebs. There’s a staircase leading to the upper floor, an old record player on the bar, and behind the bar, a fully stocked shelf of dozens of different alcohols. She hears this… creaking, scuttling sound coming from above- no… below? Her. Like some giant, many-legged creature is stalking within the walls of the bar.
She smiles a bit behind her mask, walking across the rotting floorboards without any sound, as if she wasn't really there. "Who's there?" She asks without a hint of fear, sitting down on one of the cobweb-covered chairs and waiting.
The scuttling stops. Then, the record player starts up.
”who’s Fred Casely? My Ex-Boyfriend! Why’d ya shoot ‘em? I was leavin’! Was he angry? Like a madman!-“ the record player sings, a tune from an old musical.
The Architect sees as, without a bartender, a glass appears at the bar, and a bottle of whiskey lifts itself up and pours its contents into the glass. In an instant, a hand, wrapped in webbing and cloth, reaching from the ceiling, snatches up the glass, retreating to the darkness. The thing… Enormous, stealthy, and impossibly fast, scuttles along the ceiling towards the architect, dropping down behind her, but never hitting the ground, suspended by a thread of silk. Compared to the Architect’s currently humanish size, this thing is the size of a truck.
it sings along with the song. “Then what happened? He came toward me! With a pistol? From my bureau! Did ya fight ‘Em? Like a tiger! He had strength, and she had none! And yet we both reached for the gun!”
the record player quiets down, and the creature sighs in content. “It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors. Want a drink?”
She turns around to face the fellow horror, grinning ear to ear, there being a faint sound of seams snapping as the sides of her disguise's tear open. "Just a water, please." She starts, turning her chair to face them. "Lovely place you have here. The decor is immaculate." She adds, wholly genuine in her compliments.
The creature is, quite frankly, disturbing. (Although, you know, the Architect is the Architect, they are both pretty horrifying.) a lit cigar in its mouth, it has a tangled mess of long, white hair that wraps and stretches around everything around it, like webbing. A chunk of the back of its skull is missing, covered up by cobwebs and occupied by several live spiders. It smiles, revealing fangs sharp as knives. The upper half of its body is that of a diseases human, its porcelain skin ruined by the blemishes and boils of decay and rot, wrapped in webs and cloth. It wears a brown vest and a white, buttoned shirt, torn and ripped and interconnected with the webs surrounding the creature. The bottom half is that of an arachnid creature the size of a large van. With similarly porcelain white chitin, its thin legs are razor sharp and seem so, so delicate. Balancing upon nearly invisible webbing, the creature seems almost weightless, hanging by a thread to the ceiling by its abdomen. It has a spider’s fangs on the lower part of its body, sharp and delicate, almost dripping with venom. Two human silhouettes can be seen behind it, hanging from the ceiling like they were lynched. Human sized Marionette dolls, hung by their necks.
”why thank you, I do take pride in my decorations.” Says the Mother of puppets, producing a glass of water for the architect.
She turns around to face the fellow horror, grinning ear to ear, there being a faint sound of seams snapping as the sides of her disguise's tear open. "Just a water, please." She starts, turning her chair to face them. "Lovely place you have here. The decor is immaculate." She adds, wholly genuine in her compliments.
The creature is, quite frankly, disturbing. (Although, you know, the Architect is the Architect, they are both pretty horrifying.) a lit cigar in its mouth, it has a tangled mess of long, white hair that wraps and stretches around everything around it, like webbing. A chunk of the back of its skull is missing, covered up by cobwebs and occupied by several live spiders. It smiles, revealing fangs sharp as knives. The upper half of its body is that of a diseases human, its porcelain skin ruined by the blemishes and boils of decay and rot, wrapped in webs and cloth. It wears a brown vest and a white, buttoned shirt, torn and ripped and interconnected with the webs surrounding the creature. The bottom half is that of an arachnid creature the size of a large van. With similarly porcelain white chitin, its thin legs are razor sharp and seem so, so delicate. Balancing upon nearly invisible webbing, the creature seems almost weightless, hanging by a thread to the ceiling by its abdomen. It has a spider’s fangs on the lower part of its body, sharp and delicate, almost dripping with venom. Two human silhouettes can be seen behind it, hanging from the ceiling like they were lynched. Human sized Marionette dolls, hung by their necks.
”why thank you, I do take pride in my decorations.” Says the Mother of puppets, producing a glass of water for the architect.
"Thank you." She takes the glass of water, her mask splitting vertically into a serrated maw with nothing but an empty void within before she takes a sip from the glass, her mask fitting back together again afterwards. "Did you make those? They're exquisite." She asks, pointing a clawed finger towards the two marionettes behind them. "They somewhat remind me of my creations."
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)
She turns around to face the fellow horror, grinning ear to ear, there being a faint sound of seams snapping as the sides of her disguise's tear open. "Just a water, please." She starts, turning her chair to face them. "Lovely place you have here. The decor is immaculate." She adds, wholly genuine in her compliments.
The creature is, quite frankly, disturbing. (Although, you know, the Architect is the Architect, they are both pretty horrifying.) a lit cigar in its mouth, it has a tangled mess of long, white hair that wraps and stretches around everything around it, like webbing. A chunk of the back of its skull is missing, covered up by cobwebs and occupied by several live spiders. It smiles, revealing fangs sharp as knives. The upper half of its body is that of a diseases human, its porcelain skin ruined by the blemishes and boils of decay and rot, wrapped in webs and cloth. It wears a brown vest and a white, buttoned shirt, torn and ripped and interconnected with the webs surrounding the creature. The bottom half is that of an arachnid creature the size of a large van. With similarly porcelain white chitin, its thin legs are razor sharp and seem so, so delicate. Balancing upon nearly invisible webbing, the creature seems almost weightless, hanging by a thread to the ceiling by its abdomen. It has a spider’s fangs on the lower part of its body, sharp and delicate, almost dripping with venom. Two human silhouettes can be seen behind it, hanging from the ceiling like they were lynched. Human sized Marionette dolls, hung by their necks.
”why thank you, I do take pride in my decorations.” Says the Mother of puppets, producing a glass of water for the architect.
"Thank you." She takes the glass of water, her mask splitting vertically into a serrated maw with nothing but an empty void within before she takes a sip from the glass, her mask fitting back together again afterwards. "Did you make those? They're exquisite." She asks, pointing a clawed finger towards the two marionettes behind them. "They somewhat remind me of my creations."
“I did, in fact! They were modeled off of poor, poor, dead men from about fifty years back. So blinded by the idea of revenge, so obsessed with their goals, they lost sight of what they were trying to do.” It chuckles, shifting a bit on its threads. “And then I ate them! My, my, they were delicious… it’s been a while since I’ve caught someone so obsessed… all I’ve gotten recently are a dozen drunkards, three smokers, and a serial arsonist.”
She turns around to face the fellow horror, grinning ear to ear, there being a faint sound of seams snapping as the sides of her disguise's tear open. "Just a water, please." She starts, turning her chair to face them. "Lovely place you have here. The decor is immaculate." She adds, wholly genuine in her compliments.
The creature is, quite frankly, disturbing. (Although, you know, the Architect is the Architect, they are both pretty horrifying.) a lit cigar in its mouth, it has a tangled mess of long, white hair that wraps and stretches around everything around it, like webbing. A chunk of the back of its skull is missing, covered up by cobwebs and occupied by several live spiders. It smiles, revealing fangs sharp as knives. The upper half of its body is that of a diseases human, its porcelain skin ruined by the blemishes and boils of decay and rot, wrapped in webs and cloth. It wears a brown vest and a white, buttoned shirt, torn and ripped and interconnected with the webs surrounding the creature. The bottom half is that of an arachnid creature the size of a large van. With similarly porcelain white chitin, its thin legs are razor sharp and seem so, so delicate. Balancing upon nearly invisible webbing, the creature seems almost weightless, hanging by a thread to the ceiling by its abdomen. It has a spider’s fangs on the lower part of its body, sharp and delicate, almost dripping with venom. Two human silhouettes can be seen behind it, hanging from the ceiling like they were lynched. Human sized Marionette dolls, hung by their necks.
”why thank you, I do take pride in my decorations.” Says the Mother of puppets, producing a glass of water for the architect.
"Thank you." She takes the glass of water, her mask splitting vertically into a serrated maw with nothing but an empty void within before she takes a sip from the glass, her mask fitting back together again afterwards. "Did you make those? They're exquisite." She asks, pointing a clawed finger towards the two marionettes behind them. "They somewhat remind me of my creations."
“I did, in fact! They were modeled off of poor, poor, dead men from about fifty years back. So blinded by the idea of revenge, so obsessed with their goals, they lost sight of what they were trying to do.” It chuckles, shifting a bit on its threads. “And then I ate them! My, my, they were delicious… it’s been a while since I’ve caught someone so obsessed… all I’ve gotten recently are a dozen drunkards, three smokers, and a serial arsonist.”
She somewhat nervously laughs a bit with them- obsession with a goal is something she's familiar with. "They've very well made. Though I may be biased- puppets and the like have always been a favorite of mine." She starts, before taking another sip of water. "How long have you been running this place?"
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)
She turns around to face the fellow horror, grinning ear to ear, there being a faint sound of seams snapping as the sides of her disguise's tear open. "Just a water, please." She starts, turning her chair to face them. "Lovely place you have here. The decor is immaculate." She adds, wholly genuine in her compliments.
The creature is, quite frankly, disturbing. (Although, you know, the Architect is the Architect, they are both pretty horrifying.) a lit cigar in its mouth, it has a tangled mess of long, white hair that wraps and stretches around everything around it, like webbing. A chunk of the back of its skull is missing, covered up by cobwebs and occupied by several live spiders. It smiles, revealing fangs sharp as knives. The upper half of its body is that of a diseases human, its porcelain skin ruined by the blemishes and boils of decay and rot, wrapped in webs and cloth. It wears a brown vest and a white, buttoned shirt, torn and ripped and interconnected with the webs surrounding the creature. The bottom half is that of an arachnid creature the size of a large van. With similarly porcelain white chitin, its thin legs are razor sharp and seem so, so delicate. Balancing upon nearly invisible webbing, the creature seems almost weightless, hanging by a thread to the ceiling by its abdomen. It has a spider’s fangs on the lower part of its body, sharp and delicate, almost dripping with venom. Two human silhouettes can be seen behind it, hanging from the ceiling like they were lynched. Human sized Marionette dolls, hung by their necks.
”why thank you, I do take pride in my decorations.” Says the Mother of puppets, producing a glass of water for the architect.
"Thank you." She takes the glass of water, her mask splitting vertically into a serrated maw with nothing but an empty void within before she takes a sip from the glass, her mask fitting back together again afterwards. "Did you make those? They're exquisite." She asks, pointing a clawed finger towards the two marionettes behind them. "They somewhat remind me of my creations."
“I did, in fact! They were modeled off of poor, poor, dead men from about fifty years back. So blinded by the idea of revenge, so obsessed with their goals, they lost sight of what they were trying to do.” It chuckles, shifting a bit on its threads. “And then I ate them! My, my, they were delicious… it’s been a while since I’ve caught someone so obsessed… all I’ve gotten recently are a dozen drunkards, three smokers, and a serial arsonist.”
She somewhat nervously laughs a bit with them- obsession with a goal is something she's familiar with. "They've very well made. Though I may be biased- puppets and the like have always been a favorite of mine." She starts, before taking another sip of water. "How long have you been running this place?"
It takes a sip of their own drink. ”Twenty years, since it’s shut down to the public, my dear! This place has quite the history… seven people died here in one night.”
*The Honkachu thread concept so far is a mix of Frostpunk, Fallout, and Bloodborne*
*how interesting! I’m excited.*
*The strugels have discovered a brand new sensational power source, which glows purple! They use it in everything now, especially since it provides warmth on the frozen island they live on. Of course, it has mutagenic and monstrous side effects, but it's super powerful and really cool! So they have "hunters" (not legal) who come and kill the monsters and burn their bodies, at which point the mineral crystalizes into glowy rocks again and can be sold back to the corporations who repeat the cycle, because this stuff never goes away. Ever. It turns into smog or slop, but then it enters living beings, corrupting them into monsters and driving them mad with addiction. Fun, right?*
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.
*The Honkachu thread concept so far is a mix of Frostpunk, Fallout, and Bloodborne*
*how interesting! I’m excited.*
*The strugels have discovered a brand new sensational power source, which glows purple! They use it in everything now, especially since it provides warmth on the frozen island they live on. Of course, it has mutagenic and monstrous side effects, but it's super powerful and really cool! So they have "hunters" (not legal) who come and kill the monsters and burn their bodies, at which point the mineral crystalizes into glowy rocks again and can be sold back to the corporations who repeat the cycle, because this stuff never goes away. Ever. It turns into smog or slop, but then it enters living beings, corrupting them into monsters and driving them mad with addiction. Fun, right?*
*that is very fun! I shall be brainstorming a character.*
*quote chain cut*
Check these out: My Imgur Page, My Deviant Art
The scuttling stops. Then, the record player starts up.
”who’s Fred Casely? My Ex-Boyfriend! Why’d ya shoot ‘em? I was leavin’! Was he angry? Like a madman!-“ the record player sings, a tune from an old musical.
The Architect sees as, without a bartender, a glass appears at the bar, and a bottle of whiskey lifts itself up and pours its contents into the glass. In an instant, a hand, wrapped in webbing and cloth, reaching from the ceiling, snatches up the glass, retreating to the darkness. The thing… Enormous, stealthy, and impossibly fast, scuttles along the ceiling towards the architect, dropping down behind her, but never hitting the ground, suspended by a thread of silk. Compared to the Architect’s currently humanish size, this thing is the size of a truck.
it sings along with the song. “Then what happened? He came toward me! With a pistol? From my bureau! Did ya fight ‘Em? Like a tiger! He had strength, and she had none! And yet we both reached for the gun!”
the record player quiets down, and the creature sighs in content. “It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors. Want a drink?”
"I won't. I'm actually looking for that same guy- he's got a bounty of sorts." She responds, her arm fitting back together. "If you want, we could track him down, teach him a lesson together."
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)
<Oh! I had an idea!>
<Um, Baalz? Would it be fine if I made a Dark Artes flavored as a nightmare-human hybrid?>
Roll for Initiative: [roll]1d20+7[/roll]
Proud member of the EVIL JEFF CULT! PRAISE JEFF!
Homebrew Races: HERE Homebrew Spells: HERE Homebrew Monsters: HERE
MORE OF ME! (And platypodes/platypi/platypuses) (Extended signature)
She turns around to face the fellow horror, grinning ear to ear, there being a faint sound of seams snapping as the sides of her disguise's tear open. "Just a water, please." She starts, turning her chair to face them. "Lovely place you have here. The decor is immaculate." She adds, wholly genuine in her compliments.
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 demons don't like it.'
*gtg*
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature Musk Sucks, Quit X!
The creature is, quite frankly, disturbing. (Although, you know, the Architect is the Architect, they are both pretty horrifying.) a lit cigar in its mouth, it has a tangled mess of long, white hair that wraps and stretches around everything around it, like webbing. A chunk of the back of its skull is missing, covered up by cobwebs and occupied by several live spiders. It smiles, revealing fangs sharp as knives. The upper half of its body is that of a diseases human, its porcelain skin ruined by the blemishes and boils of decay and rot, wrapped in webs and cloth. It wears a brown vest and a white, buttoned shirt, torn and ripped and interconnected with the webs surrounding the creature. The bottom half is that of an arachnid creature the size of a large van. With similarly porcelain white chitin, its thin legs are razor sharp and seem so, so delicate. Balancing upon nearly invisible webbing, the creature seems almost weightless, hanging by a thread to the ceiling by its abdomen. It has a spider’s fangs on the lower part of its body, sharp and delicate, almost dripping with venom. Two human silhouettes can be seen behind it, hanging from the ceiling like they were lynched. Human sized Marionette dolls, hung by their necks.
”why thank you, I do take pride in my decorations.” Says the Mother of puppets, producing a glass of water for the architect.
"Thank you." She takes the glass of water, her mask splitting vertically into a serrated maw with nothing but an empty void within before she takes a sip from the glass, her mask fitting back together again afterwards. "Did you make those? They're exquisite." She asks, pointing a clawed finger towards the two marionettes behind them. "They somewhat remind me of my creations."
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)
“I did, in fact! They were modeled off of poor, poor, dead men from about fifty years back. So blinded by the idea of revenge, so obsessed with their goals, they lost sight of what they were trying to do.” It chuckles, shifting a bit on its threads. “And then I ate them! My, my, they were delicious… it’s been a while since I’ve caught someone so obsessed… all I’ve gotten recently are a dozen drunkards, three smokers, and a serial arsonist.”
*I don't entirely understand, but go ahead!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
She somewhat nervously laughs a bit with them- obsession with a goal is something she's familiar with. "They've very well made. Though I may be biased- puppets and the like have always been a favorite of mine." She starts, before taking another sip of water. "How long have you been running this place?"
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 takes a sip of their own drink. ”Twenty years, since it’s shut down to the public, my dear! This place has quite the history… seven people died here in one night.”
*The Honkachu thread concept so far is a mix of Frostpunk, Fallout, and Bloodborne*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*how interesting! I’m excited.*
*Im here, is anyone else? I would love to rp if anyone is here.*
*The strugels have discovered a brand new sensational power source, which glows purple! They use it in everything now, especially since it provides warmth on the frozen island they live on. Of course, it has mutagenic and monstrous side effects, but it's super powerful and really cool! So they have "hunters" (not legal) who come and kill the monsters and burn their bodies, at which point the mineral crystalizes into glowy rocks again and can be sold back to the corporations who repeat the cycle, because this stuff never goes away. Ever. It turns into smog or slop, but then it enters living beings, corrupting them into monsters and driving them mad with addiction. Fun, right?*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*that is very fun! I shall be brainstorming a character.*
*hi! I’m here :>*
*Do you wanna rp? Hypothetically?*
*sure! Could you start?*