"Always am. I assume it's something to do with my genealogy, as most humanoids would stop feeling the pangs after three days of starvation. I am a bit of a picky eater, you see..." He chuckles, then sighs. "I call myself a traveling gourmand, but that implies that I have a chance to try the food. Funny, isn't it?"
Samaritan huffs and opens the door to the kitchen "Come. No fool deserves to be hungry, I will make you something."
"Well, if you insist..." They step inside, moving especially gracefully as to not disturb any cooks or objects.
The kitchen is massive, everything updated to whatever is considered modern these days. Everything is sleek and seems to bathed in a cold light. Samaritan walks over to a massive industrial fridge and pulls out some items.
He walks back over to a stove, grabbing a pan. He sets the items down besides the stove, some eggs, chives, ham, bacon, broccoli, and cheddar. "I'm going to make you an omelette."
"Well, if you insist..." They step inside, moving especially gracefully as to not disturb any cooks or objects.
The kitchen is massive, everything updated to whatever is considered modern these days. Everything is sleek and seems to bathed in a cold light. Samaritan walks over to a massive industrial fridge and pulls out some items.
He walks back over to a stove, grabbing a pan. He sets the items down besides the stove, some eggs, chives, ham, bacon, broccoli, and cheddar. "I'm going to make you an omelette."
"My, is that broccoli? Oh ho ho, you spoil me, Chef!" They crouch on a nearby footstool, a rather cramped spot for them given their lankiness. "I'm so excited!"
"Well, if you insist..." They step inside, moving especially gracefully as to not disturb any cooks or objects.
The kitchen is massive, everything updated to whatever is considered modern these days. Everything is sleek and seems to bathed in a cold light. Samaritan walks over to a massive industrial fridge and pulls out some items.
He walks back over to a stove, grabbing a pan. He sets the items down besides the stove, some eggs, chives, ham, bacon, broccoli, and cheddar. "I'm going to make you an omelette."
"My, is that broccoli? Oh ho ho, you spoil me, Chef!" They crouch on a nearby footstool, a rather cramped spot for them given their lankiness. "I'm so excited!"
Samaritan begins to work, dicing the vegetables and meats into smaller bits. He pours in the egg mixture into the pan, heating it before adding the vegetables and meat. He flips that over and flip it completely over again.
"My, is that broccoli? Oh ho ho, you spoil me, Chef!" They crouch on a nearby footstool, a rather cramped spot for them given their lankiness. "I'm so excited!"
Samaritan begins to work, dicing the vegetables and meats into smaller bits. He pours in the egg mixture into the pan, heating it before adding the vegetables and meat. He flips that over and flip it completely over again.
The pale being watches intently through the slits in their helmet. After a bit, they take their helmet off, revealing their purple eyes and long, black, greasy hair.
"My, is that broccoli? Oh ho ho, you spoil me, Chef!" They crouch on a nearby footstool, a rather cramped spot for them given their lankiness. "I'm so excited!"
Samaritan begins to work, dicing the vegetables and meats into smaller bits. He pours in the egg mixture into the pan, heating it before adding the vegetables and meat. He flips that over and flip it completely over again.
The pale being watches intently through the slits in their helmet. After a bit, they take their helmet off, revealing their purple eyes and long, black, greasy hair.
Samaritan snorts "You look like one of the blokes I used to fight besides." He explains, plating the omelette.
The pale being watches intently through the slits in their helmet. After a bit, they take their helmet off, revealing their purple eyes and long, black, greasy hair.
Samaritan snorts "You look like one of the blokes I used to fight besides." He explains, plating the omelette.
"Whimsical..." He delicately, or as delicately as he can with his shaking, malnourished hands, cuts off the corner and places it behind his teeth before clamping his jaws on the fork and dragging it out with gliding rattle of metal against enamel. His teeth are silver, with what looks like black plaque on them.
He chews thoughtfully, then learns back, kicking his feet and hugging himself. Then he stops, gesturing at the omelette as though he were introducing a god. "Ah..." He sighs, "A meal worthy of a prince."
The pale being watches intently through the slits in their helmet. After a bit, they take their helmet off, revealing their purple eyes and long, black, greasy hair.
Samaritan snorts "You look like one of the blokes I used to fight besides." He explains, plating the omelette.
"Whimsical..." He delicately, or as delicately as he can with his shaking, malnourished hands, cuts off the corner and places it behind his teeth before clamping his jaws on the fork and dragging it out with gliding rattle of metal against enamel. His teeth are silver, with what looks like black plaque on them.
He chews thoughtfully, then learns back, kicking his feet and hugging himself. Then he stops, gesturing at the omelette as though he were introducing a god. "Ah..." He sighs, "A meal worthy of a prince."
"Nothing special. A simple omelette, nothing more or less." He shrugs "So. What is it that you do?"
"Whimsical..." He delicately, or as delicately as he can with his shaking, malnourished hands, cuts off the corner and places it behind his teeth before clamping his jaws on the fork and dragging it out with gliding rattle of metal against enamel. His teeth are silver, with what looks like black plaque on them.
He chews thoughtfully, then learns back, kicking his feet and hugging himself. Then he stops, gesturing at the omelette as though he were introducing a god. "Ah..." He sighs, "A meal worthy of a prince."
"Nothing special. A simple omelette, nothing more or less." He shrugs "So. What is it that you do?"
"I'm an adventurer, for as little as that means. A mix between a mercenary, a bandit, and a public servant. I'm not great at fighting, but I can keep my party alive pretty well."
"Whimsical..." He delicately, or as delicately as he can with his shaking, malnourished hands, cuts off the corner and places it behind his teeth before clamping his jaws on the fork and dragging it out with gliding rattle of metal against enamel. His teeth are silver, with what looks like black plaque on them.
He chews thoughtfully, then learns back, kicking his feet and hugging himself. Then he stops, gesturing at the omelette as though he were introducing a god. "Ah..." He sighs, "A meal worthy of a prince."
"Nothing special. A simple omelette, nothing more or less." He shrugs "So. What is it that you do?"
"I'm an adventurer, for as little as that means. A mix between a mercenary, a bandit, and a public servant. I'm not great at fighting, but I can keep my party alive pretty well."
"Very good of you. From what I can smell you seem to be a cook of some kind. You have a certain scent, almost like cumin or an Azer Baazar, the area heavy with coal smoke and burning fires."
"I'm an adventurer, for as little as that means. A mix between a mercenary, a bandit, and a public servant. I'm not great at fighting, but I can keep my party alive pretty well."
"Very good of you. From what I can smell you seem to be a cook of some kind. You have a certain scent, almost like cumin or an Azer Baazar, the area heavy with coal smoke and burning fires."
"Heh, yeah. I cook almost everything. I'm no expert, but I know how to make things taste okay. I grew up in a toxic bog, so I learned to identify toxins by taste and smell... except the ones that can't be tasted or smelled."
"'Kay, cool." He walks over to his terminal. "I'll get you some Mystery Offal. It's fresh and nonhuman. Doesn't look too pretty, but it's all clean and edible. My go-to meal, actually." A disposable metal sheet pan slides out on some rollers, filled with barely identifiable organs and off-cuts that happen to be made of edible material.
"Oh sweet. That's a nice stroke of luck!" You can assume they smile, even though you cant see their mouth. "She asked for mostly organs anyways"
"I'm sure she'll love it. Do you plan on cooking this, or leaving it raw? 'Cause I have recipes for both. Organs are harder to eat raw because of the compounds within them and their general toughness, but some seasonings and acids can really make them delicious. I've experimented with this stuff myself, and I cannot recommend it less. Let someone else do the hard part."
"It's gotta be raw. But trust me, she can handle it." they let out a chuckle, muffled a bit by the mask.
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I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees (and hopefully more)
*Why, this looks simply delicious! I haven't much time at the moment sadly, but I should be able to introduce Baal and I's creation!*
It's been a long and at times confusing shift, but the final few deliveries have been made for the day. The courier is about to head back home, feeling more hungry than tired, but thinks for a moment. There's one place they haven't been to in a long while... why not swing by, grab something to eat, see what's changed? Certainly sounds more appetizing at the moment than the leftover lasagna waiting back at the apartment.
The faint whir of a small engine and quick tap-tap-tapping on the road grows louder for just a moment, and stops a ways outside Algernon. The Isopod- a smaller vehicle that's awfully handy for courier work- is safely parked near and kept secure for while they're gone via a chain locked to a metal post meant for that very purpose. Finley leaves their helmet safely in its back compartment before heading into Algernon. Moments before they walk through the doors, however, they wince slightly, one hand clutching their chest, halting dead in their tracks. Seems they're not the only one that's hungry right now- and it's getting impatient. The courier shakes off the nausea a few seconds later, readjusts their jacket, and- a little more cautiously this time- walks into the building.
*For all who might recognize Finley here, rest assured- this is an AU version of them. Same character, different canons. Physical description is below.*
Finley appears to be a human of roughly average height and somewhat athletic build, with hazel eyes bearing faint flecks of gold and feathery walnut-brown hair tied back in a bun under their visor cap. There are also slight but noticeable dark circles under their eyes, and a scattering of freckles across the bridge of their nose. They wear a long-sleeved leather jacket over their work shirt- emerald green and bearing a postal service's logo on the front pocket, with matching knee pads over their jeans and flat-pedal shoes. They wear a short grey scarf around their neck despite it not being cold enough to do so without discomfort, and the ends of a pair of biking gloves poke out of their jeans' side pocket. They seem somewhat cheery despite also looking somewhat tired.
Those with arcane or occult senses can notice that there's clearly more to this curious courier than meets the untrained eye. There is a distinct taste of negative energy in the air around them, intertwined with a fierce aberrant hunger, though neither seem to come from Finley directly. Whatever could be the source of this?...
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Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*I wasn't expecting to see you so soon! I have to go soon as well, but I'm so glad to have you play a part! You always take the story to the next level with your characters and roleplay style!*
*I wasn't expecting to see you so soon! I have to go soon as well, but I'm so glad to have you play a part! You always take the story to the next level with your characters and roleplay style!*
*Greetings, Baal! This is an excellent attraction you've concocted- I'm honored to help play a part in this grand tale and weave riveting threads alongside as talented of writers as all of y'all! I know we don't have much time, so before I return to the void, I shall leave with this: Good evening and goodnight, everyone, and I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your night, and a wonderful next morning!*
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)
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees (and hopefully more)
Hello! Call me Gato or Mother (Cat in Spanish) My pronouns are They/them, but they can fluctuate. I am a teenage boy. I have ADHD, Depression, and anxiety. I'm also Genderfluid, Pansexual, and Aromantic, but this community means the world to me; you cannot change that about me ALL HAIL O_MERLIN_O. 4D8 ATTEMPT:[roll]1d8[/roll]+[roll]1d8[/roll]+[roll]1d8[/roll]+[roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll] I have adopted Golden andSalem they are my D&D child.
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The kitchen is massive, everything updated to whatever is considered modern these days. Everything is sleek and seems to bathed in a cold light. Samaritan walks over to a massive industrial fridge and pulls out some items.
He walks back over to a stove, grabbing a pan. He sets the items down besides the stove, some eggs, chives, ham, bacon, broccoli, and cheddar. "I'm going to make you an omelette."
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*I'd love to see you here!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"My, is that broccoli? Oh ho ho, you spoil me, Chef!" They crouch on a nearby footstool, a rather cramped spot for them given their lankiness. "I'm so excited!"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Samaritan begins to work, dicing the vegetables and meats into smaller bits. He pours in the egg mixture into the pan, heating it before adding the vegetables and meat. He flips that over and flip it completely over again.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
The pale being watches intently through the slits in their helmet. After a bit, they take their helmet off, revealing their purple eyes and long, black, greasy hair.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Samaritan snorts "You look like one of the blokes I used to fight besides." He explains, plating the omelette.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Whimsical..." He delicately, or as delicately as he can with his shaking, malnourished hands, cuts off the corner and places it behind his teeth before clamping his jaws on the fork and dragging it out with gliding rattle of metal against enamel. His teeth are silver, with what looks like black plaque on them.
He chews thoughtfully, then learns back, kicking his feet and hugging himself. Then he stops, gesturing at the omelette as though he were introducing a god. "Ah..." He sighs, "A meal worthy of a prince."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*I'm imagining this is just a mundane yet well-made omelette.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Nothing special. A simple omelette, nothing more or less." He shrugs "So. What is it that you do?"
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Yep*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"I'm an adventurer, for as little as that means. A mix between a mercenary, a bandit, and a public servant. I'm not great at fighting, but I can keep my party alive pretty well."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"Very good of you. From what I can smell you seem to be a cook of some kind. You have a certain scent, almost like cumin or an Azer Baazar, the area heavy with coal smoke and burning fires."
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Heh, yeah. I cook almost everything. I'm no expert, but I know how to make things taste okay. I grew up in a toxic bog, so I learned to identify toxins by taste and smell... except the ones that can't be tasted or smelled."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
"It's gotta be raw. But trust me, she can handle it." they let out a chuckle, muffled a bit by the mask.
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees (and hopefully more)
*Why, this looks simply delicious! I haven't much time at the moment sadly, but I should be able to introduce Baal and I's creation!*
It's been a long and at times confusing shift, but the final few deliveries have been made for the day. The courier is about to head back home, feeling more hungry than tired, but thinks for a moment. There's one place they haven't been to in a long while... why not swing by, grab something to eat, see what's changed? Certainly sounds more appetizing at the moment than the leftover lasagna waiting back at the apartment.
The faint whir of a small engine and quick tap-tap-tapping on the road grows louder for just a moment, and stops a ways outside Algernon. The Isopod- a smaller vehicle that's awfully handy for courier work- is safely parked near and kept secure for while they're gone via a chain locked to a metal post meant for that very purpose. Finley leaves their helmet safely in its back compartment before heading into Algernon. Moments before they walk through the doors, however, they wince slightly, one hand clutching their chest, halting dead in their tracks. Seems they're not the only one that's hungry right now- and it's getting impatient. The courier shakes off the nausea a few seconds later, readjusts their jacket, and- a little more cautiously this time- walks into the building.
*For all who might recognize Finley here, rest assured- this is an AU version of them. Same character, different canons. Physical description is below.*
Finley appears to be a human of roughly average height and somewhat athletic build, with hazel eyes bearing faint flecks of gold and feathery walnut-brown hair tied back in a bun under their visor cap. There are also slight but noticeable dark circles under their eyes, and a scattering of freckles across the bridge of their nose. They wear a long-sleeved leather jacket over their work shirt- emerald green and bearing a postal service's logo on the front pocket, with matching knee pads over their jeans and flat-pedal shoes. They wear a short grey scarf around their neck despite it not being cold enough to do so without discomfort, and the ends of a pair of biking gloves poke out of their jeans' side pocket. They seem somewhat cheery despite also looking somewhat tired.
Those with arcane or occult senses can notice that there's clearly more to this curious courier than meets the untrained eye. There is a distinct taste of negative energy in the air around them, intertwined with a fierce aberrant hunger, though neither seem to come from Finley directly. Whatever could be the source of this?...
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)
*Ah, Yvonne!*
*I wasn't expecting to see you so soon! I have to go soon as well, but I'm so glad to have you play a part! You always take the story to the next level with your characters and roleplay style!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*Greetings, Baal! This is an excellent attraction you've concocted- I'm honored to help play a part in this grand tale and weave riveting threads alongside as talented of writers as all of y'all! I know we don't have much time, so before I return to the void, I shall leave with this: Good evening and goodnight, everyone, and I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your night, and a wonderful next morning!*
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)
*hello*
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees (and hopefully more)
*Can I be a 'earlier' ai? Like the stuff that exists now.*
Sig but long ^w^
Gulpmissle Day, Saturday, Feburay 15th, 2025
💛🤍💜🖤 🩷💛💙
Henlo, I am a pan, NB, chaotic ADHD mess of a furry.
I am also a eepy eeper, who likes WoF, WC, and fire.
*Hi tartar*
Hello! Call me Gato or Mother (Cat in Spanish)
My pronouns are They/them, but they can fluctuate.
I am a teenage boy. I have ADHD, Depression, and anxiety. I'm also Genderfluid, Pansexual, and Aromantic,
but this community means the world to me; you cannot change that about me
ALL HAIL O_MERLIN_O. 4D8 ATTEMPT:[roll]1d8[/roll]+[roll]1d8[/roll]+[roll]1d8[/roll]+[roll]1d8[/roll]=[roll][roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
I have adopted Golden andSalem they are my D&D child.