Howdy, I'm Trilogy, but y'all can call me "3" if y'all want.
A little about me, I'm a bit of an emotional trainwreck, but I'm workin' on gettin' better. My favorite things in life are TTRPGs, Deathcore, and doin' sensational pinch harmonics until my cab blows out (I've done this like twice, but it was all in good fun). Favorite band is Lorna Shore, y'all should check out their newest studio album, IFTEFWM, it's a banger, trust me.
That's all from me, for now, take it easy ladies and gents, Trilogy
He slides the dish across to where the book formerly was. "You're very welcome." There is... a faint glimmer of orange light, deep in his eye. He steps back and goes to care for other customers as to avoid making her uncomfortable.
She notices this right away, not seeming uncomfortable so much as curious. Still, now doesn't seem the time to bring this up- she'll have time to gather answers in a moment. For now, she carefully lifts the sugar-glass seal on the bowl and starts to eat, realizing how hungry she actually is after a few bites.
It cracks when she moves it, revealing the black stew beneath the fragile shell, a pinkish oil around the top to prevent the sugar from melting completely before it was disturbed. She hears Viande putting more wood on the fire. She smells the ashes and embers he scrapes out to be put to use later.
The spoon she now has in her hand looks like it was hand-forged, based on a hazily remembered knife. A knife she remembers so clearly that she can recognize the inaccuracies.
The meat is tender, almost gelatinous, having been bathed in acid before being cooked, and browned with enough heat that the fat wasn't completely destroyed before it was boiled. It tastes similar to pork, with a notably nutty taste separating it. The soup itself is rich and a bit spicy, and was clearly made with blood.
She smiles at the sight of the spoon, her suspicions confirmed as she recognizes its design- it's almost ironic how much she remembers about it, considering it was named Afterthought. Maybe she'll give the creation of that knife a second try someday- at the very least just as a replica to keep for nostalgic purposes.
Atla finishes the stew a while later, recognizing every deliberately added note and element, feeling an overall pleasant mixture of catharsis, nostalgia, and satisfaction. She saves the sugar glass dishes for last as a palette cleanser, being careful and slightly hasty about it as to not have it melt in her hands. Wiping her mouth with a cloth procured from her satchel, she grabs her book once more, and looks for Viande to ask some questions.
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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)
Deacon finishes his tea and looks around the tavern. He walks to the blackjack table.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out! Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thou foe, who being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.'"
At the blackjack table deacon wins a few rounds before speaking to the others. “I’m going to call it a night.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
“And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out! Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thou foe, who being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.'"
Howdy, I'm Trilogy, but y'all can call me "3" if y'all want.
A little about me, I'm a bit of an emotional trainwreck, but I'm workin' on gettin' better. My favorite things in life are TTRPGs, Deathcore, and doin' sensational pinch harmonics until my cab blows out (I've done this like twice, but it was all in good fun). Favorite band is Lorna Shore, y'all should check out their newest studio album, IFTEFWM, it's a banger, trust me.
That's all from me, for now, take it easy ladies and gents, Trilogy
It cracks when she moves it, revealing the black stew beneath the fragile shell, a pinkish oil around the top to prevent the sugar from melting completely before it was disturbed. She hears Viande putting more wood on the fire. She smells the ashes and embers he scrapes out to be put to use later.
The spoon she now has in her hand looks like it was hand-forged, based on a hazily remembered knife. A knife she remembers so clearly that she can recognize the inaccuracies.
The meat is tender, almost gelatinous, having been bathed in acid before being cooked, and browned with enough heat that the fat wasn't completely destroyed before it was boiled. It tastes similar to pork, with a notably nutty taste separating it. The soup itself is rich and a bit spicy, and was clearly made with blood.
She smiles at the sight of the spoon, her suspicions confirmed as she recognizes its design- it's almost ironic how much she remembers about it, considering it was named Afterthought. Maybe she'll give the creation of that knife a second try someday- at the very least just as a replica to keep for nostalgic purposes.
Atla finishes the stew a while later, recognizing every deliberately added note and element, feeling an overall pleasant mixture of catharsis, nostalgia, and satisfaction. She saves the sugar glass dishes for last as a palette cleanser, being careful and slightly hasty about it as to not have it melt in her hands. Wiping her mouth with a cloth procured from her satchel, she grabs her book once more, and looks for Viande to ask some questions.
She doesn't have to look for long at all. Even with his quiet movements and the dim light, he's too big to miss. He smiles warmly at her when she gets close. "Did you like it?"
*same here, actually*
Howdy, I'm Trilogy, but y'all can call me "3" if y'all want.
A little about me, I'm a bit of an emotional trainwreck, but I'm workin' on gettin' better. My favorite things in life are TTRPGs, Deathcore, and doin' sensational pinch harmonics until my cab blows out (I've done this like twice, but it was all in good fun). Favorite band is Lorna Shore, y'all should check out their newest studio album, IFTEFWM, it's a banger, trust me.
That's all from me, for now, take it easy ladies and gents,
Trilogy
She smiles at the sight of the spoon, her suspicions confirmed as she recognizes its design- it's almost ironic how much she remembers about it, considering it was named Afterthought. Maybe she'll give the creation of that knife a second try someday- at the very least just as a replica to keep for nostalgic purposes.
Atla finishes the stew a while later, recognizing every deliberately added note and element, feeling an overall pleasant mixture of catharsis, nostalgia, and satisfaction. She saves the sugar glass dishes for last as a palette cleanser, being careful and slightly hasty about it as to not have it melt in her hands. Wiping her mouth with a cloth procured from her satchel, she grabs her book once more, and looks for Viande to ask some questions.
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)
Deacon finishes his tea and looks around the tavern. He walks to the blackjack table.
“And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out! Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thou foe, who being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.'"
Victor: "THERES A BLACKJACK TABLE?!?!"
Inferniak's followers
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/off-topic/adohands-kitchen/237064-cult-of-inferniak
Enter Stormdriven:
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/dungeons-dragons-discussion/story-lore/236865-stormdriven-homebrew-world
(self styled) Greatest twist a wish player.
At the blackjack table deacon wins a few rounds before speaking to the others. “I’m going to call it a night.”
“And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out! Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thou foe, who being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.'"
*Am bak*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*same*
Howdy, I'm Trilogy, but y'all can call me "3" if y'all want.
A little about me, I'm a bit of an emotional trainwreck, but I'm workin' on gettin' better. My favorite things in life are TTRPGs, Deathcore, and doin' sensational pinch harmonics until my cab blows out (I've done this like twice, but it was all in good fun). Favorite band is Lorna Shore, y'all should check out their newest studio album, IFTEFWM, it's a banger, trust me.
That's all from me, for now, take it easy ladies and gents,
Trilogy
She doesn't have to look for long at all. Even with his quiet movements and the dim light, he's too big to miss. He smiles warmly at her when she gets close. "Did you like it?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*am heere*
Build us a door
And rest here with me
Lights are on
But nobody's home...
extended sig