A fat humanoid in heavy protective gear can be seen crouched over a ghoul, dissecting them in the torrential downpour. They're slightly shorter than the average human, about 5' 2", and their gas mask has only one eye. They pull out a hunk of Charnel Gold and stare at it, tilting their hooded head.
Even in the Construct, their clothes are too warm. Clearly designed for sub-zero temperatures.
"Ain't that Jemmy Longshivers dead in the mud with someone's hand round his golden heart? What's ol' Jemmy doing dead like that?" A rippling grin flashes at you from the water not too far away, a glowing reflection.
*Had to do something, back*
The figure with the mask looks at the reflection. "That's what I'm trying to find out. What... is this?" They hold up the hunk of gold.
A fat humanoid in heavy protective gear can be seen crouched over a ghoul, dissecting them in the torrential downpour. They're slightly shorter than the average human, about 5' 2", and their gas mask has only one eye. They pull out a hunk of Charnel Gold and stare at it, tilting their hooded head.
Even in the Construct, their clothes are too warm. Clearly designed for sub-zero temperatures.
"Ain't that Jemmy Longshivers dead in the mud with someone's hand round his golden heart? What's ol' Jemmy doing dead like that?" A rippling grin flashes at you from the water not too far away, a glowing reflection.
*Had to do something, back*
The figure with the mask looks at the reflection. "That's what I'm trying to find out. What... is this?" They hold up the hunk of gold.
"Jemmy Longshivers was a fine dancer and that there is his funny bone. He ain't gonna be doing no dancing now that you've ripped it out of Jemmy's body." Says the reflection in the water, darting closer to you. "Why'd you kill a man for his funny bone?"
The figure with the mask looks at the reflection. "That's what I'm trying to find out. What... is this?" They hold up the hunk of gold.
"Jemmy Longshivers was a fine dancer and that there is his funny bone. He ain't gonna be doing no dancing now that you've ripped it out of Jemmy's body." Says the reflection in the water, darting closer to you. "Why'd you kill a man for his funny bone?"
"I didn't kill him. I'm trying to figure out what did." They reply calmly. They continue their autopsy. "I understand that this is upsetting for you, but I need you to remain calm."
"Jemmy Longshivers was a fine dancer and that there is his funny bone. He ain't gonna be doing no dancing now that you've ripped it out of Jemmy's body." Says the reflection in the water, darting closer to you. "Why'd you kill a man for his funny bone?"
"I didn't kill him. I'm trying to figure out what did." They reply calmly. They continue their autopsy. "I understand that this is upsetting for you, but I need you to remain calm."
"I ain't nothing if I ain't calm and collected." You spot the grin flash closer to you, "I ain't never said that Jemmy didn't have it coming to him. He deserves to be where he is here and now. But why do you care? He ain't nothing but a low down, grave-gulletted, two-timing, fool, ghoul."
"I didn't kill him. I'm trying to figure out what did." They reply calmly. They continue their autopsy. "I understand that this is upsetting for you, but I need you to remain calm."
"I ain't nothing if I ain't calm and collected." You spot the grin flash closer to you, "I ain't never said that Jemmy didn't have it coming to him. He deserves to be where he is here and now. But why do you care? He ain't nothing but a low down, grave-gulletted, two-timing, fool, ghoul."
"..." The Raccoon suddenly notices something fading into being, latching onto the humanoid's back. It looks like a smaller humanoid made of dully glowing purple wire. It bends over backwards to 'look' at the grinning creature with the hole where its face should be.
"I am a healer. One must understand local morbidity and affliction in order to heal." The 'doctor' places the golden lump into a leather bag and stitches it shut before marking it.
"I didn't kill him. I'm trying to figure out what did." They reply calmly. They continue their autopsy. "I understand that this is upsetting for you, but I need you to remain calm."
"I ain't nothing if I ain't calm and collected." You spot the grin flash closer to you, "I ain't never said that Jemmy didn't have it coming to him. He deserves to be where he is here and now. But why do you care? He ain't nothing but a low down, grave-gulletted, two-timing, fool, ghoul."
"..." The Raccoon suddenly notices something fading into being, latching onto the humanoid's back. It looks like a smaller humanoid made of dully glowing purple wire. It bends over backwards to 'look' at the grinning creature with the hole where its face should be.
"I am a healer. One must understand local morbidity and affliction in order to heal." The 'doctor' places the golden lump into a leather bag and stitches it shut before marking it.
"A healer, eh?" The smiling reflection's eyes latch onto the thing on its back, "What brings you round to these parts? It ain't all that common to see your sort round here. Maybe malpractice?" A short harsh laugh fills the air, "That sort of guilt can cling to you."
Standing in the Harvestlands is a scarecrow. There are many like it dotting the fields. It's body is made up of rusting farm tools, the head draped in an old moth-eaten rag, ripped to reveal a dead eye and a mouth filled with jagged metal teeth. It's ribcage is a literal cage, although it holds nothing. It's legs are so spindly that it's a wonder the thing hasn't collapsed yet. It has three arms. One hangs limp at the scarecrow's side, and it seems to twitch whenever you aren't focusing on it. The second extends upwards at an uncomfortable angle, holding a lantern that illuminates the rest of its body. the third arm sticks out to the side, holding a jagged farmer's scythe made up of a bunch of scrap metal and a gnarled tree branch. While the scarecrow doesn't seem like much, it emanates a sort of energy that drives most beings away. Nothing grows around it, not even the weeds that so often plague these forsaken fields. Some people who got near it said they heard the voices of people who've been dead years, screaming in fear. Even the people who live down here are unnerved by them. And yes, there are multiple, all around the fields. Nobody knows who made them. No-one really wants to know. All that's know about them is it's a bad idea to get too close.
"..." The Raccoon suddenly notices something fading into being, latching onto the humanoid's back. It looks like a smaller humanoid made of dully glowing purple wire. It bends over backwards to 'look' at the grinning creature with the hole where its face should be.
"I am a healer. One must understand local morbidity and affliction in order to heal." The 'doctor' places the golden lump into a leather bag and stitches it shut before marking it.
"A healer, eh?" The smiling reflection's eyes latch onto the thing on its back, "What brings you round to these parts? It ain't all that common to see your sort round here. Maybe malpractice?" A short harsh laugh fills the air, "That sort of guilt can cling to you."
"No, no... it's just that I saw that this place needed one." The physician doesn't seem to notice as the wire entity slowly reaches out its barbed hands to grab the Raccoon. It doesn't seem to be able to reach.
"..." The Raccoon suddenly notices something fading into being, latching onto the humanoid's back. It looks like a smaller humanoid made of dully glowing purple wire. It bends over backwards to 'look' at the grinning creature with the hole where its face should be.
"I am a healer. One must understand local morbidity and affliction in order to heal." The 'doctor' places the golden lump into a leather bag and stitches it shut before marking it.
"A healer, eh?" The smiling reflection's eyes latch onto the thing on its back, "What brings you round to these parts? It ain't all that common to see your sort round here. Maybe malpractice?" A short harsh laugh fills the air, "That sort of guilt can cling to you."
"No, no... it's just that I saw that this place needed one." The physician doesn't seem to notice as the wire entity slowly reaches out its barbed hands to grab the Raccoon. It doesn't seem to be able to reach.
The smiling reflection laughs at the wire creature's futile attempts to grab it. "Aw, ain't that sweet. Coming all the way to this hellhole of a holler to provide the miserable miscreants with medical mercy. That's mighty kind of you. Speaking of kind, you might be hag-ridden but it's awful nice to give the booger a piggy back ride so as to keep them skinny purple feet dry. What's your wiry friend's name?"
"No, no... it's just that I saw that this place needed one." The physician doesn't seem to notice as the wire entity slowly reaches out its barbed hands to grab the Raccoon. It doesn't seem to be able to reach.
The smiling reflection laughs at the wire creature's futile attempts to grab it. "Aw, ain't that sweet. Coming all the way to this hellhole of a holler to provide the miserable miscreants with medical mercy. That's mighty kind of you. Speaking of kind, you might be hag-ridden but it's awful nice to give the booger a piggy back ride so as to keep them skinny purple feet dry. What's your wiry friend's name?"
"It doesn't have one. I call it The Shadow. I made it out of doomed threads of fate... I think. I took them from the dying, and a wound opened in my side. The Shadow lives in that wound."
The Shadow suddenly twists unnaturally and extends its limbs with terrifying speed, but still only manages to brush its fingers against the Cheshire Raccoon. The beast can feel the creature's near-infinite malevolence from such a small touch, enough that the Ghoul Queen might have shuddered at such contact. This isn't a creature. It is a curse given life and sentience.
Standing in the Harvestlands is a scarecrow. There are many like it dotting the fields. It's body is made up of rusting farm tools, the head draped in an old moth-eaten rag, ripped to reveal a dead eye and a mouth filled with jagged metal teeth. It's ribcage is a literal cage, although it holds nothing. It's legs are so spindly that it's a wonder the thing hasn't collapsed yet. It has three arms. One hangs limp at the scarecrow's side, and it seems to twitch whenever you aren't focusing on it. The second extends upwards at an uncomfortable angle, holding a lantern that illuminates the rest of its body. the third arm sticks out to the side, holding a jagged farmer's scythe made up of a bunch of scrap metal and a gnarled tree branch. While the scarecrow doesn't seem like much, it emanates a sort of energy that drives most beings away. Nothing grows around it, not even the weeds that so often plague these forsaken fields. Some people who got near it said they heard the voices of people who've been dead years, screaming in fear. Even the people who live down here are unnerved by them. And yes, there are multiple, all around the fields. Nobody knows who made them. No-one really wants to know. All that's known about them is it's a bad idea to get too close.
*Boop*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi, I'm hungry! I mean, I'm EJODM18604, but you can call me EJO.
As an avid League of Legends player, I main (And maybe potentially might could simp for) Aurora, the Witch between Worlds.
I'm active most weekends, but keep in mind I live in the BST timezone.
"No, no... it's just that I saw that this place needed one." The physician doesn't seem to notice as the wire entity slowly reaches out its barbed hands to grab the Raccoon. It doesn't seem to be able to reach.
The smiling reflection laughs at the wire creature's futile attempts to grab it. "Aw, ain't that sweet. Coming all the way to this hellhole of a holler to provide the miserable miscreants with medical mercy. That's mighty kind of you. Speaking of kind, you might be hag-ridden but it's awful nice to give the booger a piggy back ride so as to keep them skinny purple feet dry. What's your wiry friend's name?"
"It doesn't have one. I call it The Shadow. I made it out of doomed threads of fate... I think. I took them from the dying, and a wound opened in my side. The Shadow lives in that wound."
The Shadow suddenly twists unnaturally and extends its limbs with terrifying speed, but still only manages to brush its fingers against the Cheshire Raccoon. The beast can feel the creature's near-infinite malevolence from such a small touch, enough that the Ghoul Queen might have shuddered at such contact. This isn't a creature. It is a curse given life and sentience.
*Sorry I left so abruptly yesterday. I got a call I had to take and then the rest of my night was busy.*
As the Shadow's finger tips brush against the reflection of the raccoon's face that dances in the water, his ghostly smile dissipates in a cloud of shimmering, rain-pocked ripples. The wide, grinning face of the Cheshire Coon appears in the hollow of a nearby tree. His hair is standing on end from the touch and there's a strange glow in his eyes. Almost as if he enjoyed the fearful touch. "You need to train that thang to keep its mitts to hisself. Must be a dandy feller to have around, though I wonder 'bout having such a wicked thing in such a vulnerable wound. Almost seems like holding a dagger to yer own heart."
Standing in the Harvestlands is a scarecrow. There are many like it dotting the fields. It's body is made up of rusting farm tools, the head draped in an old moth-eaten rag, ripped to reveal a dead eye and a mouth filled with jagged metal teeth. It's ribcage is a literal cage, although it holds nothing. It's legs are so spindly that it's a wonder the thing hasn't collapsed yet. It has three arms. One hangs limp at the scarecrow's side, and it seems to twitch whenever you aren't focusing on it. The second extends upwards at an uncomfortable angle, holding a lantern that illuminates the rest of its body. the third arm sticks out to the side, holding a jagged farmer's scythe made up of a bunch of scrap metal and a gnarled tree branch. While the scarecrow doesn't seem like much, it emanates a sort of energy that drives most beings away. Nothing grows around it, not even the weeds that so often plague these forsaken fields. Some people who got near it said they heard the voices of people who've been dead years, screaming in fear. Even the people who live down here are unnerved by them. And yes, there are multiple, all around the fields. Nobody knows who made them. No-one really wants to know. All that's known about them is it's a bad idea to get too close.
*Boop*
*Boop?*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi, I'm hungry! I mean, I'm EJODM18604, but you can call me EJO.
As an avid League of Legends player, I main (And maybe potentially might could simp for) Aurora, the Witch between Worlds.
I'm active most weekends, but keep in mind I live in the BST timezone.
Standing in the Harvestlands is a scarecrow. There are many like it dotting the fields. It's body is made up of rusting farm tools, the head draped in an old moth-eaten rag, ripped to reveal a dead eye and a mouth filled with jagged metal teeth. It's ribcage is a literal cage, although it holds nothing. It's legs are so spindly that it's a wonder the thing hasn't collapsed yet. It has three arms. One hangs limp at the scarecrow's side, and it seems to twitch whenever you aren't focusing on it. The second extends upwards at an uncomfortable angle, holding a lantern that illuminates the rest of its body. the third arm sticks out to the side, holding a jagged farmer's scythe made up of a bunch of scrap metal and a gnarled tree branch. While the scarecrow doesn't seem like much, it emanates a sort of energy that drives most beings away. Nothing grows around it, not even the weeds that so often plague these forsaken fields. Some people who got near it said they heard the voices of people who've been dead years, screaming in fear. Even the people who live down here are unnerved by them. And yes, there are multiple, all around the fields. Nobody knows who made them. No-one really wants to know. All that's know about them is it's a bad idea to get too close.
A man walks through the field. He is tall and strong but long limbed and lithe. Long brown hair and beard hang from his head and he wears only ragged, brown trousers. A dead and bloody badger hangs from his fist and a cluster of red flowers grows from his left shoulder right above his heart. He lopes through the field quickly, his dark eyes latched onto the strange hodmedods.
"It doesn't have one. I call it The Shadow. I made it out of doomed threads of fate... I think. I took them from the dying, and a wound opened in my side. The Shadow lives in that wound."
The Shadow suddenly twists unnaturally and extends its limbs with terrifying speed, but still only manages to brush its fingers against the Cheshire Raccoon. The beast can feel the creature's near-infinite malevolence from such a small touch, enough that the Ghoul Queen might have shuddered at such contact. This isn't a creature. It is a curse given life and sentience.
*Sorry I left so abruptly yesterday. I got a call I had to take and then the rest of my night was busy.*
As the Shadow's finger tips brush against the reflection of the raccoon's face that dances in the water, his ghostly smile dissipates in a cloud of shimmering, rain-pocked ripples. The wide, grinning face of the Cheshire Coon appears in the hollow of a nearby tree. His hair is standing on end from the touch and there's a strange glow in his eyes. Almost as if he enjoyed the fearful touch. "You need to train that thang to keep its mitts to hisself. Must be a dandy feller to have around, though I wonder 'bout having such a wicked thing in such a vulnerable wound. Almost seems like holding a dagger to yer own heart."
*Don't apologize to me for something that you had no control over.*
"I'm afraid it doesn't quite listen to me. Perhaps it senses a kindred spirit. But it could just be hungry. It feeds on affliction and injury." They stand up. "I can't determine the cause of death. The rain and decay is too great. There could be any number of morbidities, especially considering that they were already post-mortem."
"It doesn't have one. I call it The Shadow. I made it out of doomed threads of fate... I think. I took them from the dying, and a wound opened in my side. The Shadow lives in that wound."
The Shadow suddenly twists unnaturally and extends its limbs with terrifying speed, but still only manages to brush its fingers against the Cheshire Raccoon. The beast can feel the creature's near-infinite malevolence from such a small touch, enough that the Ghoul Queen might have shuddered at such contact. This isn't a creature. It is a curse given life and sentience.
*Sorry I left so abruptly yesterday. I got a call I had to take and then the rest of my night was busy.*
As the Shadow's finger tips brush against the reflection of the raccoon's face that dances in the water, his ghostly smile dissipates in a cloud of shimmering, rain-pocked ripples. The wide, grinning face of the Cheshire Coon appears in the hollow of a nearby tree. His hair is standing on end from the touch and there's a strange glow in his eyes. Almost as if he enjoyed the fearful touch. "You need to train that thang to keep its mitts to hisself. Must be a dandy feller to have around, though I wonder 'bout having such a wicked thing in such a vulnerable wound. Almost seems like holding a dagger to yer own heart."
*Don't apologize to me for something that you had no control over.*
"I'm afraid it doesn't quite listen to me. Perhaps it senses a kindred spirit. But it could just be hungry. It feeds on affliction and injury." They stand up. "I can't determine the cause of death. The rain and decay is too great. There could be any number of morbidities, especially considering that they were already post-mortem."
“Already post-mortem is one way to say it. Can you tell who done did the deed?”
*Don't apologize to me for something that you had no control over.*
"I'm afraid it doesn't quite listen to me. Perhaps it senses a kindred spirit. But it could just be hungry. It feeds on affliction and injury." They stand up. "I can't determine the cause of death. The rain and decay is too great. There could be any number of morbidities, especially considering that they were already post-mortem."
“Already post-mortem is one way to say it. Can you tell who done did the deed?”
"Unfortunately not. It seems that he had suffered a great many potentially-fatal injuries, the majority of which were inflicted with a large, dull blade. My guess is a scythe, judging by the hook-and-rip type of lacerations. But I'm also under the impression that most of the wounds were inflicted either before reanimation or after final casualty. A scythe is a miserable, unwieldy weapon, and this level of precision would require an immobile target." They scratch the side of their head. "Other fatal wounds are caused by knives or bullets, but their placement means that only a severely weakened ghoul would even be bothered by. It doesn't match any generic killer profiles I know of either. Ritual sacrifice is my best bet."
The Shadow slithers back under the protective gear and out of the rain, unraveling into ribbons as it does.
*Don't apologize to me for something that you had no control over.*
"I'm afraid it doesn't quite listen to me. Perhaps it senses a kindred spirit. But it could just be hungry. It feeds on affliction and injury." They stand up. "I can't determine the cause of death. The rain and decay is too great. There could be any number of morbidities, especially considering that they were already post-mortem."
“Already post-mortem is one way to say it. Can you tell who done did the deed?”
"Unfortunately not. It seems that he had suffered a great many potentially-fatal injuries, the majority of which were inflicted with a large, dull blade. My guess is a scythe, judging by the hook-and-rip type of lacerations. But I'm also under the impression that most of the wounds were inflicted either before reanimation or after final casualty. A scythe is a miserable, unwieldy weapon, and this level of precision would require an immobile target." They scratch the side of their head. "Other fatal wounds are caused by knives or bullets, but their placement means that only a severely weakened ghoul would even be bothered by. It doesn't match any generic killer profiles I know of either. Ritual sacrifice is my best bet."
The Shadow slithers back under the protective gear and out of the rain, unraveling into ribbons as it does.
“Sounds like some feller had a mighty strong grudge against ol’ Jemmy. What sort of god or demon wants you to sacrifice a ghoul to them? That’s a bit like giving a chewed up crust to a king.”
"Unfortunately not. It seems that he had suffered a great many potentially-fatal injuries, the majority of which were inflicted with a large, dull blade. My guess is a scythe, judging by the hook-and-rip type of lacerations. But I'm also under the impression that most of the wounds were inflicted either before reanimation or after final casualty. A scythe is a miserable, unwieldy weapon, and this level of precision would require an immobile target." They scratch the side of their head. "Other fatal wounds are caused by knives or bullets, but their placement means that only a severely weakened ghoul would even be bothered by. It doesn't match any generic killer profiles I know of either. Ritual sacrifice is my best bet."
The Shadow slithers back under the protective gear and out of the rain, unraveling into ribbons as it does.
“Sounds like some feller had a mighty strong grudge against ol’ Jemmy. What sort of god or demon wants you to sacrifice a ghoul to them? That’s a bit like giving a chewed up crust to a king.”
"A grave god, perhaps. It's the only thing that I can think of that fits. Most groups wouldn't have left the body out like this, a serial killer would either do the same or leave it where it could be found more easily. Leaving it here of all places either has significance or proves that the perpetrator was inexperienced. The choice of weapon could also factor in, but that assumes I'm correct." They look over at the critter. "How well did you know Jemmy?"
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
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*Had to do something, back*
The figure with the mask looks at the reflection. "That's what I'm trying to find out. What... is this?" They hold up the hunk of gold.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
"Jemmy Longshivers was a fine dancer and that there is his funny bone. He ain't gonna be doing no dancing now that you've ripped it out of Jemmy's body." Says the reflection in the water, darting closer to you. "Why'd you kill a man for his funny bone?"
*Haven't had a chance to play a certain fear demon in a thread yet. Uhh, what were the numbers? 13 and 4? Hang on lemme cook up a character sheet*
Hi, I'm hungry! I mean, I'm EJODM18604, but you can call me EJO.
As an avid League of Legends player, I main (And maybe potentially might could simp for) Aurora, the Witch between Worlds.
I'm active most weekends, but keep in mind I live in the BST timezone.
My other account is EJODM29715.
"I didn't kill him. I'm trying to figure out what did." They reply calmly. They continue their autopsy. "I understand that this is upsetting for you, but I need you to remain calm."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
"I ain't nothing if I ain't calm and collected." You spot the grin flash closer to you, "I ain't never said that Jemmy didn't have it coming to him. He deserves to be where he is here and now. But why do you care? He ain't nothing but a low down, grave-gulletted, two-timing, fool, ghoul."
"..." The Raccoon suddenly notices something fading into being, latching onto the humanoid's back. It looks like a smaller humanoid made of dully glowing purple wire. It bends over backwards to 'look' at the grinning creature with the hole where its face should be.
"I am a healer. One must understand local morbidity and affliction in order to heal." The 'doctor' places the golden lump into a leather bag and stitches it shut before marking it.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
"A healer, eh?" The smiling reflection's eyes latch onto the thing on its back, "What brings you round to these parts? It ain't all that common to see your sort round here. Maybe malpractice?" A short harsh laugh fills the air, "That sort of guilt can cling to you."
Standing in the Harvestlands is a scarecrow. There are many like it dotting the fields. It's body is made up of rusting farm tools, the head draped in an old moth-eaten rag, ripped to reveal a dead eye and a mouth filled with jagged metal teeth. It's ribcage is a literal cage, although it holds nothing. It's legs are so spindly that it's a wonder the thing hasn't collapsed yet.
It has three arms. One hangs limp at the scarecrow's side, and it seems to twitch whenever you aren't focusing on it. The second extends upwards at an uncomfortable angle, holding a lantern that illuminates the rest of its body. the third arm sticks out to the side, holding a jagged farmer's scythe made up of a bunch of scrap metal and a gnarled tree branch.
While the scarecrow doesn't seem like much, it emanates a sort of energy that drives most beings away. Nothing grows around it, not even the weeds that so often plague these forsaken fields. Some people who got near it said they heard the voices of people who've been dead years, screaming in fear. Even the people who live down here are unnerved by them. And yes, there are multiple, all around the fields. Nobody knows who made them. No-one really wants to know. All that's know about them is it's a bad idea to get too close.
Hi, I'm hungry! I mean, I'm EJODM18604, but you can call me EJO.
As an avid League of Legends player, I main (And maybe potentially might could simp for) Aurora, the Witch between Worlds.
I'm active most weekends, but keep in mind I live in the BST timezone.
My other account is EJODM29715.
"No, no... it's just that I saw that this place needed one." The physician doesn't seem to notice as the wire entity slowly reaches out its barbed hands to grab the Raccoon. It doesn't seem to be able to reach.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
The smiling reflection laughs at the wire creature's futile attempts to grab it. "Aw, ain't that sweet. Coming all the way to this hellhole of a holler to provide the miserable miscreants with medical mercy. That's mighty kind of you. Speaking of kind, you might be hag-ridden but it's awful nice to give the booger a piggy back ride so as to keep them skinny purple feet dry. What's your wiry friend's name?"
"It doesn't have one. I call it The Shadow. I made it out of doomed threads of fate... I think. I took them from the dying, and a wound opened in my side. The Shadow lives in that wound."
The Shadow suddenly twists unnaturally and extends its limbs with terrifying speed, but still only manages to brush its fingers against the Cheshire Raccoon. The beast can feel the creature's near-infinite malevolence from such a small touch, enough that the Ghoul Queen might have shuddered at such contact. This isn't a creature. It is a curse given life and sentience.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
*Boop*
Hi, I'm hungry! I mean, I'm EJODM18604, but you can call me EJO.
As an avid League of Legends player, I main (And maybe potentially might could simp for) Aurora, the Witch between Worlds.
I'm active most weekends, but keep in mind I live in the BST timezone.
My other account is EJODM29715.
*Sorry I left so abruptly yesterday. I got a call I had to take and then the rest of my night was busy.*
As the Shadow's finger tips brush against the reflection of the raccoon's face that dances in the water, his ghostly smile dissipates in a cloud of shimmering, rain-pocked ripples. The wide, grinning face of the Cheshire Coon appears in the hollow of a nearby tree. His hair is standing on end from the touch and there's a strange glow in his eyes. Almost as if he enjoyed the fearful touch. "You need to train that thang to keep its mitts to hisself. Must be a dandy feller to have around, though I wonder 'bout having such a wicked thing in such a vulnerable wound. Almost seems like holding a dagger to yer own heart."
*Boop?*
Hi, I'm hungry! I mean, I'm EJODM18604, but you can call me EJO.
As an avid League of Legends player, I main (And maybe potentially might could simp for) Aurora, the Witch between Worlds.
I'm active most weekends, but keep in mind I live in the BST timezone.
My other account is EJODM29715.
A man walks through the field. He is tall and strong but long limbed and lithe. Long brown hair and beard hang from his head and he wears only ragged, brown trousers. A dead and bloody badger hangs from his fist and a cluster of red flowers grows from his left shoulder right above his heart. He lopes through the field quickly, his dark eyes latched onto the strange hodmedods.
*Don't apologize to me for something that you had no control over.*
"I'm afraid it doesn't quite listen to me. Perhaps it senses a kindred spirit. But it could just be hungry. It feeds on affliction and injury." They stand up. "I can't determine the cause of death. The rain and decay is too great. There could be any number of morbidities, especially considering that they were already post-mortem."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
“Already post-mortem is one way to say it. Can you tell who done did the deed?”
"Unfortunately not. It seems that he had suffered a great many potentially-fatal injuries, the majority of which were inflicted with a large, dull blade. My guess is a scythe, judging by the hook-and-rip type of lacerations. But I'm also under the impression that most of the wounds were inflicted either before reanimation or after final casualty. A scythe is a miserable, unwieldy weapon, and this level of precision would require an immobile target." They scratch the side of their head. "Other fatal wounds are caused by knives or bullets, but their placement means that only a severely weakened ghoul would even be bothered by. It doesn't match any generic killer profiles I know of either. Ritual sacrifice is my best bet."
The Shadow slithers back under the protective gear and out of the rain, unraveling into ribbons as it does.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
“Sounds like some feller had a mighty strong grudge against ol’ Jemmy. What sort of god or demon wants you to sacrifice a ghoul to them? That’s a bit like giving a chewed up crust to a king.”
"A grave god, perhaps. It's the only thing that I can think of that fits. Most groups wouldn't have left the body out like this, a serial killer would either do the same or leave it where it could be found more easily. Leaving it here of all places either has significance or proves that the perpetrator was inexperienced. The choice of weapon could also factor in, but that assumes I'm correct." They look over at the critter. "How well did you know Jemmy?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!