*Anyone around to role-play? I have a little bit of time.*
*Of course*
*I have a million ideas. My latest character is a Yankii punk. They're a strugel who loves jelly.*
*Fantastic*
*I have two thousand seven hundred and ninety-three ideas. My latest character is a ********** wound ***************** master of *************** King's ***********************relent*********** slaughter******************************** to cease ***************. I hope that doesn't give too much away.*
Something large and silent carries something still and dead through somewhere dark and secluded somewhere far and wild.
*I have a million ideas. My latest character is a Yankii punk. They're a strugel who loves jelly.*
*Fantastic*
*I have two thousand seven hundred and ninety-three ideas. My latest character is a ********** wound ***************** master of *************** King's ***********************relent*********** slaughter******************************** to cease ***************. I hope that doesn't give too much away.*
Something large and silent carries something still and dead through somewhere dark and secluded somewhere far and wild.
Tiny flan-shaped oozes slip around through the underbrush. A voice sings softly nearby.
"Had your final meal? It's time for sweets! You know you want it- 's good for you, I promise!"
*I have a million ideas. My latest character is a Yankii punk. They're a strugel who loves jelly.*
*Fantastic*
*I have two thousand seven hundred and ninety-three ideas. My latest character is a ********** wound ***************** master of *************** King's ***********************relent*********** slaughter******************************** to cease ***************. I hope that doesn't give too much away.*
Something large and silent carries something still and dead through somewhere dark and secluded somewhere far and wild.
Tiny flan-shaped oozes slip around through the underbrush. A voice sings softly nearby.
"Had your final meal? It's time for sweets! You know you want it- 's good for you, I promise!"
A bare chested man heaves a dead elk off his shoulder and onto the ground, brushing a few red petals from the patch of flowers that grow right above his heart. He lifts his head and sniffs the air. A deep growl wells up inside of his throat and rolls out as a voice that seems unused to being a voice, "Who goes there?"
*I have a million ideas. My latest character is a Yankii punk. They're a strugel who loves jelly.*
*Fantastic*
*I have two thousand seven hundred and ninety-three ideas. My latest character is a ********** wound ***************** master of *************** King's ***********************relent*********** slaughter******************************** to cease ***************. I hope that doesn't give too much away.*
Something large and silent carries something still and dead through somewhere dark and secluded somewhere far and wild.
Tiny flan-shaped oozes slip around through the underbrush. A voice sings softly nearby.
"Had your final meal? It's time for sweets! You know you want it- 's good for you, I promise!"
A bare chested man heaves a dead elk off his shoulder and onto the ground, brushing a few red petals from the patch of flowers that grow right above his heart. He lifts his head and sniffs the air. A deep growl wells up inside of his throat and rolls out as a voice that seems unused to being a voice, "Who goes there?"
The singing stops. "Zacharie. What's it to ya?" Any hostility in the high-pitched voice is clearly feigned.
*I have a million ideas. My latest character is a Yankii punk. They're a strugel who loves jelly.*
*Fantastic*
*I have two thousand seven hundred and ninety-three ideas. My latest character is a ********** wound ***************** master of *************** King's ***********************relent*********** slaughter******************************** to cease ***************. I hope that doesn't give too much away.*
Something large and silent carries something still and dead through somewhere dark and secluded somewhere far and wild.
Tiny flan-shaped oozes slip around through the underbrush. A voice sings softly nearby.
"Had your final meal? It's time for sweets! You know you want it- 's good for you, I promise!"
A bare chested man heaves a dead elk off his shoulder and onto the ground, brushing a few red petals from the patch of flowers that grow right above his heart. He lifts his head and sniffs the air. A deep growl wells up inside of his throat and rolls out as a voice that seems unused to being a voice, "Who goes there?"
The singing stops. "Zacharie. What's it to ya?" Any hostility in the high-pitched voice is clearly feigned.
The man brushes his brown, lank hair out of his face and looks to see who is speaking. "You sing a strange song, Zacharie."
The singing stops. "Zacharie. What's it to ya?" Any hostility in the high-pitched voice is clearly feigned.
The man brushes his brown, lank hair out of his face and looks to see who is speaking. "You sing a strange song, Zacharie."
It's a strugel in faded, formerly black clothing. He has a blue Pompadour, but no other markings. He also has a band-aid on the bridge of his little snout. A big Bundt pan filled with fizzy liquid sits in front of him.
"The opposite of strange isn't normal, it's boring. And I'd rather not be boring."
The man brushes his brown, lank hair out of his face and looks to see who is speaking. "You sing a strange song, Zacharie."
It's a strugel in faded, formerly black clothing. He has a blue Pompadour, but no other markings. He also has a band-aid on the bridge of his little snout. A big Bundt pan filled with fizzy liquid sits in front of him.
"The opposite of strange isn't normal, it's boring. And I'd rather not be boring."
He sniffs the air to see if he can identify what's in the pan. "But is there any meaning to it?"
It's a strugel in faded, formerly black clothing. He has a blue Pompadour, but no other markings. He also has a band-aid on the bridge of his little snout. A big Bundt pan filled with fizzy liquid sits in front of him.
"The opposite of strange isn't normal, it's boring. And I'd rather not be boring."
He sniffs the air to see if he can identify what's in the pan. "But is there any meaning to it?"
Champagne, fruit, collagen boiled from bones, and sugar. "Yeah, I think so. It might be different from the author's intent, but that's for them to worry about." He looks up. "Are you a... Womp-uh-hoofus?"
He sniffs the air to see if he can identify what's in the pan. "But is there any meaning to it?"
Champagne, fruit, collagen boiled from bones, and sugar. "Yeah, I think so. It might be different from the author's intent, but that's for them to worry about." He looks up. "Are you a... Womp-uh-hoofus?"
He turns his head slightly, taken aback by the strange question. "A wampahoofus? They don't exist."
Champagne, fruit, collagen boiled from bones, and sugar. "Yeah, I think so. It might be different from the author's intent, but that's for them to worry about." He looks up. "Are you a... Womp-uh-hoofus?"
He turns his head slightly, taken aback by the strange question. "A wampahoofus? They don't exist."
He looks back to the mixture in front of him. "I guess. But I can still hope to meet one someday."
Champagne, fruit, collagen boiled from bones, and sugar. "Yeah, I think so. It might be different from the author's intent, but that's for them to worry about." He looks up. "Are you a... Womp-uh-hoofus?"
He turns his head slightly, taken aback by the strange question. "A wampahoofus? They don't exist."
He looks back to the mixture in front of him. "I guess. But I can still hope to meet one someday."
"Don't hold your breath." He remains rooted to the spot he'd been standing at but he leans ever so slightly towards you. "Would you share a meal with me? I've brought some meat. I haven't eaten something cooked in..." His voice trails off and the fire light dances in his deep, black eyes as he waits for an invitation.
He looks back to the mixture in front of him. "I guess. But I can still hope to meet one someday."
"Don't hold your breath." He remains rooted to the spot he'd been standing at but he leans ever so slightly towards you. "Would you share a meal with me? I've brought some meat. I haven't eaten something cooked in..." His voice trails off and the fire light dances in his deep, black eyes as he waits for an invitation.
He looks back to the mixture in front of him. "I guess. But I can still hope to meet one someday."
"Don't hold your breath." He remains rooted to the spot he'd been standing at but he leans ever so slightly towards you. "Would you share a meal with me? I've brought some meat. I haven't eaten something cooked in..." His voice trails off and the fire light dances in his deep, black eyes as he waits for an invitation.
"Sure." He starts setting up a tiny campfire.
"Do you have a blade I can borrow?" He says, looking back at the elk carcass. As he waits he begins to speak, "Do you know what a wampahoofus is? What they are said to be?"
"Do you have a blade I can borrow?" He says, looking back at the elk carcass. As he waits he begins to speak, "Do you know what a wampahoofus is? What they are said to be?"
He pulls out a hunting knife and offers it. "Tree giants, basically."
"Do you have a blade I can borrow?" He says, looking back at the elk carcass. As he waits he begins to speak, "Do you know what a wampahoofus is? What they are said to be?"
He pulls out a hunting knife and offers it. "Tree giants, basically."
He pauses after taking the knife. "We think of different things. Tell me of your wampahoofus and I'll tell you of mine." He turns and begins to butcher the elk.
He pulls out a hunting knife and offers it. "Tree giants, basically."
He pauses after taking the knife. "We think of different things. Tell me of your wampahoofus and I'll tell you of mine." He turns and begins to butcher the elk.
"Well, they could only walk in circles, and they were part pig, part deer, part man. Some people tried to breed them with cows once. It's scary what humans do. I guess it came back to bite them, since anyone who lays eyes on a Wampahoofus is sentenced to death for 90 years. Then you are dug up, and you turn into mosquitoes, each one with a memory of your evil life. All you can do then is to whisper thoughts of rage and malice into the ears of women and children." The strugel's breath begins to fog.
He pulls out a hunting knife and offers it. "Tree giants, basically."
He pauses after taking the knife. "We think of different things. Tell me of your wampahoofus and I'll tell you of mine." He turns and begins to butcher the elk.
"Well, they could only walk in circles, and they were part pig, part deer, part man. Some people tried to breed them with cows once. It's scary what humans do. I guess it came back to bite them, since anyone who lays eyes on a Wampahoofus is sentenced to death for 90 years. Then you are dug up, and you turn into mosquitoes, each one with a memory of your evil life. All you can do then is to whisper thoughts of rage and malice into the ears of women and children." The strugel's breath begins to fog.
He turns back around with two generous chunks of meat, having cut and cleaned the pieces surprisingly quickly. "They stand in two places at once, don't they? With one leg higher than the other they exist in two places at once. But where does that get them? You said it yourself. They go round and round in circles, trapped on their little hills. We all got our own ground to stand on... and you're ruined if you got both feet on the wrong ground."
"Well, they could only walk in circles, and they were part pig, part deer, part man. Some people tried to breed them with cows once. It's scary what humans do. I guess it came back to bite them, since anyone who lays eyes on a Wampahoofus is sentenced to death for 90 years. Then you are dug up, and you turn into mosquitoes, each one with a memory of your evil life. All you can do then is to whisper thoughts of rage and malice into the ears of women and children." The strugel's breath begins to fog.
He turns back around with two generous chunks of meat, having cut and cleaned the pieces surprisingly quickly. "They stand in two places at once, don't they? With one leg higher than the other they exist in two places at once. But where does that get them? You said it yourself. They go round and round in circles, trapped on their little hills. We all got our own ground to stand on... and you're ruined if you got both feet on the wrong ground."
He takes out a cast-iron pan, places it over the fire, and makes grabby hands at the meat. "I don't think anyone's ground lies here in the Construct. Except maybe the Prince's, but no one knows what's up with that guy."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
*Anyone around to role-play? I have a little bit of time.*
*Of course*
*I have a million ideas. My latest character is a Yankii punk. They're a strugel who loves jelly.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
*Fantastic*
*I have two thousand seven hundred and ninety-three ideas. My latest character is a ********** wound ***************** master of *************** King's ***********************relent*********** slaughter******************************** to cease ***************. I hope that doesn't give too much away.*
Something large and silent carries something still and dead through somewhere dark and secluded somewhere far and wild.
Tiny flan-shaped oozes slip around through the underbrush. A voice sings softly nearby.
"Had your final meal?
It's time for sweets!
You know you want it-
's good for you, I promise!"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
A bare chested man heaves a dead elk off his shoulder and onto the ground, brushing a few red petals from the patch of flowers that grow right above his heart. He lifts his head and sniffs the air. A deep growl wells up inside of his throat and rolls out as a voice that seems unused to being a voice, "Who goes there?"
The singing stops. "Zacharie. What's it to ya?" Any hostility in the high-pitched voice is clearly feigned.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
The man brushes his brown, lank hair out of his face and looks to see who is speaking. "You sing a strange song, Zacharie."
It's a strugel in faded, formerly black clothing. He has a blue Pompadour, but no other markings. He also has a band-aid on the bridge of his little snout. A big Bundt pan filled with fizzy liquid sits in front of him.
"The opposite of strange isn't normal, it's boring. And I'd rather not be boring."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
He sniffs the air to see if he can identify what's in the pan. "But is there any meaning to it?"
Champagne, fruit, collagen boiled from bones, and sugar. "Yeah, I think so. It might be different from the author's intent, but that's for them to worry about." He looks up. "Are you a... Womp-uh-hoofus?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
He turns his head slightly, taken aback by the strange question. "A wampahoofus? They don't exist."
He looks back to the mixture in front of him. "I guess. But I can still hope to meet one someday."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
"Don't hold your breath." He remains rooted to the spot he'd been standing at but he leans ever so slightly towards you. "Would you share a meal with me? I've brought some meat. I haven't eaten something cooked in..." His voice trails off and the fire light dances in his deep, black eyes as he waits for an invitation.
"Sure." He starts setting up a tiny campfire.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
"Do you have a blade I can borrow?" He says, looking back at the elk carcass. As he waits he begins to speak, "Do you know what a wampahoofus is? What they are said to be?"
He pulls out a hunting knife and offers it. "Tree giants, basically."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
He pauses after taking the knife. "We think of different things. Tell me of your wampahoofus and I'll tell you of mine." He turns and begins to butcher the elk.
"Well, they could only walk in circles, and they were part pig, part deer, part man. Some people tried to breed them with cows once. It's scary what humans do. I guess it came back to bite them, since anyone who lays eyes on a Wampahoofus is sentenced to death for 90 years. Then you are dug up, and you turn into mosquitoes, each one with a memory of your evil life. All you can do then is to whisper thoughts of rage and malice into the ears of women and children." The strugel's breath begins to fog.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
He turns back around with two generous chunks of meat, having cut and cleaned the pieces surprisingly quickly. "They stand in two places at once, don't they? With one leg higher than the other they exist in two places at once. But where does that get them? You said it yourself. They go round and round in circles, trapped on their little hills. We all got our own ground to stand on... and you're ruined if you got both feet on the wrong ground."
He takes out a cast-iron pan, places it over the fire, and makes grabby hands at the meat. "I don't think anyone's ground lies here in the Construct. Except maybe the Prince's, but no one knows what's up with that guy."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine