Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 243769 times)

Toaster · « **Reply #1950 on:** January 15, 2017, 07:40:18 pm »

((Back))

What? "Ah, yes, of course! The worms! They are coming? Where?"

Look down for worms. Be unsure of what to do about it.

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #1951 on:** January 16, 2017, 01:10:30 pm »

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on January 13, 2017, 11:05:42 am

I think I am Leif Erikson, miner, not minder, descendant of great vikings. And clearly you haven't seen real darkness yet, like one in the well. Now that was dark, so don't get so pissy.

Move in direction of the answer, perhaps it is not mushroom induced hallucination. Let's make friends!

[The Darkness Is Your Friend: 3]

You aim forward and dive into the dark, reaching for something to wrap your hands around and anchor yourself to. You tumble forth, the ground getting further and further away until you've completely lost sight of it. And from here any direction begins to feel increasingly similar, and the darkness increasingly abstract. You pass by a nearby cube made of what feels like plush, except when you pat it you get a faceful of moldy spore-dust. Reflexively you kick it away, and as it travels through the dark you notice it pick up speed and rotational velocity until it becomes a blur, then progressively fades out of sight.

You wonder if you're actually going in the same direction as you were previously. You step onto a convenient nearby patch of ground, free-floating in the void and the dark. It lets you stop and think a moment despite spinning very quickly, but you don't have a frame of reference to compare that to so you're surprisingly okay with this. You ponder the darkness, which still appears to be obstinate and responds with only more questions. What do you want? Why are you swimming this way? Which way are you swimming? What's your angle? You scratch your head. You're not really sure you speak its language. Well, you kind of do, you think. There's words there. But you get the feeling they mean something different. Better start simple.

You open up your arms and shout into the dark, hello! Friends! Friends, come here! Come hither! You suddenly feel a little dizzy, but you shake it off! Hello, you say again! Friends! There is a papery flapping noise somewhere behind you. The darkness ahead shivers at your words. To your left, something creaks. And you discern a gentle dripping to your right. Are you still spinning? You don't think you're still spinning. You try to discern what they may be, but only get a vaguely stony sensation in the back of your throat as you reach out.

Quote from: TopHat on January 14, 2017, 04:31:29 pm

No, having survived all that I am not going to drown.
Swim for it! And do not. let. go.

[In The Arms Of An Angel Of Death: 6]

You kick at the bogwater trying to keep you still, and your heel paradoxically finds a face, your foot breaking a nose and dislocating a few teeth. The hold of the water lightens, and you mash the other foot as well, crushing a windpipe and eliciting a gurgling sound. You run your hand over your shoulder and with an animalistic fury tear several snaking, emaciated fingers off yourself, then tear them off the hand they belonged to. You force the mummy's hands around your neck and start using all four limbs. Your eye opens wide and the bog starts to scream as you make the faces of the hungry dead into your staircase, crushing them and collapsing them with your step as you start to shake off their grip, insects flying from each sweep of your arm as you resist with all of your might.

[Breaker of Bones: 2]

You mash at the thick, viscous bogwater and whatever it is that's possessed it, and are accompanied by the most horrific shrieking as you dive out to the surface, gasping for air. You start running for the road, but your feet begin to sink again immediately, the water pulling at them, forcing you to pause to stomp into it to keep away the murderous powers beneath. They recede and flee as you stare and kick them down, and the water grows thinner close to the road. You trip into it quite by accident, and the rest of the way is made by crawling out, coughing up dark fluid from your lungs and shaking insects from your body. You flop out onto the gravely chitin of the road and very nearly roll onto your companion as you spend a few moments to regain your composure. Seems it's not quite quicksand that you need to beware around here.

Quote from: Xantalos on January 14, 2017, 06:25:51 pm

"Huh, you're a lot more scared of me than I remember people being. Then again, I suppose I wasn't exactly associating with normal individuals myself. So, how long do sprained ankles normally take to heal?"

Oh he's not scared good sir he is just very respectful of powers that may or may not have trapped his immortal soul in oblivion to be called upon whenever they feel like it or maybe eat it instead please don't eat his soul he had enough of that with the stoatman occupation have you seen the way their Speakers look at people it's pretty horrifying actually oh and he's probably fine he just needs er something to help him walk around like a cane or some crutches or something if it's not too much of a problem good sir he wouldn't want to be a bother or anything.

Quote from: penguinofhonor on January 15, 2017, 07:14:06 pm

I grab a few maps: a map focusing on Bemzerwald, the map of the far South, and a couple depicting other foreign areas.

Then I head to the last room in the house.

The doctor wanders over while shaking her head. That history section is really quite horrif- oh hello, she stops by the romance section. Now this certainly hasn't been expunged, she notes as her eyes run across the titles. She goes up to one printed volume in particular, oh! They didn't have this one in the capital! Burning Desire In The House of Meats! She checks the publishing date - this is a month old! Don't mind if she does, she says as she slips the volume in her dress. Oh, and there's one from the month before that, she says and grabs another, very similar-looking book. Wait, do they have the whole series? They do!

You hold up two roughly similar maps of Benzerwald as you shop around the cartography section. The doctor looks at them - take the left one, she advises. Less recent, but the other one's from 10 years ago and there was a lot of questionable surveying going on there. As in, parts of that might have literally been dreamed up. Possibly minding, perhaps infiltration from El, but probably just a lot of hearsay and mass hysteria involved. She then turns back to her perusal as you pocket the older map, and take a few printed maps of El, an artisanal and fairly incomplete rendering of the Kingdom of the Dead (lot of skulls on that, you notice), a map of the northern borderlands in particular, including lands up to as far as Elizabeth. And then for fun you pick up a vague map of the Grand Republic of Alfalfa, the improbably named state apparently found south beyond the Corner Sea that unlike the rest of these clownshoes maps is actually attested twice, and in shapes close enough to each other that you might believe something is there after all.

You look up to see the doctor wrapping a fair dozen books up in a gown she seems to have quickly run off to steal from the bedroom. It makes for a rather lacy parcel, which she supposes is in keeping with the contents. You both then head out to see the final room.

[The Country House Expedition: 5]

It's a considerably smaller room than the others, and doesn't really look like much to begin with and frankly smells a little odd. Would have been a bit of trouble to get into, since the door that appears to have been snapped in half by the earthquake was clearly locked at some previous time. As it is, the two pieces of door are fairly easily pulled apart. Within there are three tables, one against each wall, with tall cabinets standing in the corners. All of it, even the small stools next to the tables, is covered in at least one tarp. You and the doctor pull one tarp off and reveal a sturdy-looking work table beneath it, and very narrowly avoid upsetting a row of bottles standing freely at one end of the table as the doctor nimbly steps over to catch one that's about to fall.

Oh, she says, something else must have fallen down here as well. Broken flask full of, she lifts it up to check the label, ah. Unidentified neurotoxin K-1. She blanches, then exchanges a look with you. Well, she says after a few moments, it's definitely dried out completely. So it's probably safe. Must be months old by now. She picks up one of the still-intact bottles. Unidentified neurotoxin K-2. And unidentified neurotoxin L! That's... not very encouraging.

You very carefully check under the other tarps - pins and ether, an elegant set of taxidermy tools, a miniature and fairly primitive, but no doubt somewhat effective set of alchemical odds and ends, and an unfinished collection of what look to be jellyfish, perfectly fixed and preserved in a shape almost exactly like you'd imagine they would appear in nature - an amazing feat, given they're all pinned inside delicate glass flasks. The cabinets loom over the rest of the lab, chock full of fixatives kept in varyingly sealed containers, from a single carafe of distilled alcohol to a wealth of "unidentified toxins" to creatively named discoveries to even a triple-sealed, generously wrapped flask of "dragon's doom". Do the Treefrogs even sell that, the doctor wonders aloud.

A dusty, exotic paper notebook sits on one of the tables, untouched in quite a long time, the room fixed much like many of the things in it. A cursory look reveals it to be full of cryptic notes, the name in the front identifying the owner as one Augusta the White. Ah, must be the mayor's wife. She did like to style herself as something of a sorceress. Though really this is more of a... well, to be frank it's nothing like any alchemy lab she's seen. A bit too neat and well-organized. And the arthropods here are very much deliberate, she says as she pulls out one of the drawers of a cabinet to reveal a stupendously large collection of preserved scorpions petrified for posterity.

Quote from: Toaster on January 15, 2017, 07:40:18 pm

((Back))

What? "Ah, yes, of course! The worms! They are coming? Where?"

Look down for worms. Be unsure of what to do about it.

[Yeah The Worms Are Coming: 2]

You look down. No worms that you can see, unfortunately. Oh wait, there is one you suppose. You bend down to pick it up as Claire manages to run up as well, stopping to get fully dressed on the way. What, she says, what's going on?

The worms are coming, the ranger says with a great deal of excitement! The worms are coming, you shrug and lift up your earthworm. The worms are coming, she repeats doubtfully. The worms are coming, the worms are coming! The ranger seems quite resolute in this, though completely ignores your worm in the process. As does Claire herself.

The ground rumbles gently. You notice a patch of earth rising a little ways off, much like a molehill if molehills tended to be ten feet tall. Another pops up a little ways closer. The worms are coming, the ranger repeats, pulling out a sizable knife from his pocket, his head lolling a little and displaying a very much open hole in his neck you recall from last night. Still not bleeding, which you suppose is a good sign? Bit dark though.

Oh dear, says Claire as the large wormhills continue to approach, the worms really are coming, aren't they? Yes, the ranger shouts! This is what he's saying! The worms are coming! Well, maybe just one worm. The others might turn up later! Or they're deeper down! To know for sure you'd need the wormsong. Quick, he motions to you, you all need to go after it! Before it gets away!

Spoiler: Status (click to show/hide)

Toaster · « **Reply #1952 on:** January 16, 2017, 04:40:49 pm »

"Right!"

Throw the earthworm at it.

Also should probably get the sword out.

Xantalos · « **Reply #1953 on:** January 16, 2017, 05:39:15 pm »

"Ah, I see. Don't worry on that account, I'm not going to eat your soul. I have a stoatman kept in me for that, I just brought you along for company. Going to El by myself isn't a horribly inviting prospect, after all. Anyhow, good to hear that'll heal with time, I'll find you a crutch or cane or what have you. Stay here."

Crutch/cane hunting I go! Mayhaps get a suitable tree branch and just kinda trim it into shape or something?

AoshimaMichio · « **Reply #1954 on:** January 17, 2017, 02:37:40 am »

"Friends?"

I think a shining revelation is in order. Or two.

TopHat · « **Reply #1955 on:** January 17, 2017, 01:44:48 pm »

"That is not at all what I was expecting. Are you okay?"
See how the mummy's doing, then back along the road it is.

penguinofhonor · « **Reply #1956 on:** January 17, 2017, 03:18:07 pm »

"Wow, and I thought this place couldn't get much stranger. Do you think the lab has what we need to restore my sword? I already see one thing." I grab the container of alcohol and begin carefully looking for the other things the doctor mentioned. Soap, oil, and acid, I believe.

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #1957 on:** January 18, 2017, 01:51:15 pm »

Quote from: Toaster on January 16, 2017, 04:40:49 pm

"Right!"

Throw the earthworm at it.

Also should probably get the sword out.

The earthworm sails through the air gracefully. You have your sword in hand nearly instantly. One can't help but express anticipation. Claire looks at you, then at the approaching wormhills. The ranger grins madly.

[The Hunt Is On: 1]

The wormhills draw closer and closer, and suddenly multiply into two, three, then four - the earth rumbles as they wind along the craters and even below them, the earth trembling at their approach. One passes under a tree, handily sucking it below the earth, a few dancing leaves remaining in its wake above a gaping pit. They come to you readily and rapidly, your tent nearly collapsing from being suddenly upset... and then appear to continue, having no interest in surfacing for the time being.

Bugger, the ranger shouts! Plan B, then! Deploy the wormsong! He looks at you. Wait, you don't know the wormsong, do you! Would that you only had some time! Say, have you experience in throat singing? What about your girl there? Claire does fancy herself a bit of a singer, as it happens - yes, yes, the ranger says hurriedly, but can she sing from the throat? The wormsong is a very particular musical hunting tradition! Watch, he says as he inhales and then lets off a warbling monotone.

Wooooooorm, he starts to sing! Wooorm! Wooorm! Come on, he says, harmonize with him! Quickly, before they're gone!

Quote from: Xantalos on January 16, 2017, 05:39:15 pm

"Ah, I see. Don't worry on that account, I'm not going to eat your soul. I have a stoatman kept in me for that, I just brought you along for company. Going to El by myself isn't a horribly inviting prospect, after all. Anyhow, good to hear that'll heal with time, I'll find you a crutch or cane or what have you. Stay here."

Crutch/cane hunting I go! Mayhaps get a suitable tree branch and just kinda trim it into shape or something?

Yes that is very good to know thank you!

You leave the man to his suffering and healing, hopefully more of one than the other, and look outside.

[When In Hornsweir: 2]

You look outside for a tree, and luckily one readily presents itself - and next to said tree you see a dark-skinned fellow dressed a lot like you would expect from a pirate, although considerably better-groomed, his curled and braided black hair and beard glistening from extreme care as he looks in your direction. His features are sharp, and while he's adopted the perfect posture of a layabout as he slouches against the tree, the look he gives you is nothing short of authoritative.

Welcome to Hornsweir, wanderer! The man appears to be affecting a certain degree of good humor. Here to stay, perhaps?

[In The Hedges: 1]

He claps his hands together. Guess it doesn't really matter, does it? You look like a formidable man to be wandering almost unaccompanied through the wilderness. Running from the occupation, or maybe a traveling brigand of some description?

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on January 17, 2017, 02:37:40 am

"Friends?"

I think a shining revelation is in order. Or two.

You have a drink for courage, and it goes straight to your head and the darkness twinkles and sings to you in plinking tones. You turn three times around as you close your mind's eye for a second, and listen - there's that flapping noise, closer now. Close enough to-

Aha, you shout as you leap toward the noise, speeding forward and barreling straight into it - there is a terrible flapping and you feel almost as if a chicken was attempting to escape from under you - with practiced grace you maneuver into place and sit down on it, fixing your quarry in place.

You look down at its face with its faceted eyes and quivering antennae. Friend, you say! Let's be friends together!

[A Kind Word And A Slam: 5]

Yes, it quickly says in a surprisingly deep voice! Friends! Just don't hit him! He'll tell you anything you want!

Quote from: TopHat on January 17, 2017, 01:44:48 pm

"That is not at all what I was expecting. Are you okay?"
See how the mummy's doing, then back along the road it is.

The mummy does seem fairly insect-bitten and drenched in ice cold water, but the same applies to you so you think you're doing about as good as it is. It doesn't seem terribly satisfied with its lot in life by any means as well as looking shaken by its experience in the deep. You leave it to sort itself out as it holds on to your shoulders and move along, heading down the road to find a truer destination.

[The Sunken Lands: 4]

You walk for a day and a night, the day only dimly illuminating the surface of the bog, the night almost the same save for the haze rising from the bog - you see little sign of the sun, merely a lightening and darkening to inform you of the time. The road winds on, but does not branch. The shells of thousands of insects crackle and snap beneath your feet as you trudge on, the bog taking on an increasingly unnatural darkness as you go on, looking more like a tar pit in its darkest places than an actual bog, its long-dead life decomposed into a slurry that emits a deeply repulsive smell that soaks you even as the coldness of the water dries off over the course of the day. You nearly get used to it several times before suddenly gets worse as you pass a sunken house or an upturned temple. A row of statue heads, sunken down to eye level, observe you like stone crocodiles with dark eyes from which nesting carrion birds occasionally poke out their heads.

The occasional cry of birds grows quieter and quieter as you head on, losing yourself as you trudge forward, the hours blending into one another as the road ahead goes on and on. The moon disappears and the surroundings brighten, and you pause for a moment, wondering how long you've still got to go. You look back.

Some distance behind you, off to one side of the road, you observe an island - a man-made one from the looks of it, a half-crumbled mass of stonework floating on the bog by uncertain means, going what looks to be your way. It is covered in structures of a wide variety of styles and forms, from ancient-looking structures rising from what must have been its original design with many an elaborate spire to driftwood shanties attached to their sides like wooden barnacles to small neighborhoods of foreign brickwork standing on piles of rubble from older generations. It is an impressive smorgasbord of mismatched architecture, lopsided and unstable on every level.

And yet it seems to be keeping pace with you, following slowly a good hundred feet from the road. Emaciated, boneless figures hang on the walls, obviously watching you with yellow, shining eyes.

Quote from: penguinofhonor on January 17, 2017, 03:18:07 pm

"Wow, and I thought this place couldn't get much stranger. Do you think the lab has what we need to restore my sword? I already see one thing." I grab the container of alcohol and begin carefully looking for the other things the doctor mentioned. Soap, oil, and acid, I believe.

It definitely is among the most curious manors she has had the opportunity to explore, the doctor says. Not that she's been in many, but northern nobility are in her experience far stranger than most. And since there are alchemical supplies, acid would certainly not be a stretch, she thinks.

[We Can Fix This For You: 5]

And indeed there are quite a few things - distilled alcohol is on hand, and the doctor roots through one cabinet to come up with spirits of salt to assist as well. There's a whole bucket of potash at the bottom of one of the cupboards and, sure enough, you find one drawer filled with soaps set to dry over a long period of time - there's elk soap, bear soap, bat soap and even snake soap - you aren't quite sure how most of those work exactly, but you pocket much of the collection. Oil is similarly easy to find - there are several vials of essential oils, which aren't quite what you're looking for, but in several neat flasks in a separate shelf behind several cases of snail shells you find a generous supply of lamp oil, which the doctor supposes would do well enough for the purpose.

All in all, she says, this worked out far more efficiently than expected!

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Xantalos · « **Reply #1958 on:** January 18, 2017, 02:38:20 pm »

Break off a branch from the tree and start trimming it down while I reply.

"Oh, just heading to El with a friend. Why do you ask? And why the Johnny Depp getup?"

TopHat · « **Reply #1959 on:** January 19, 2017, 01:55:59 pm »

Wait for the town to catch up, then call out to the inhabitants.
"Ahoy there! Is this the town the watchman spoke of?"

Toaster · « **Reply #1960 on:** January 19, 2017, 02:50:10 pm »

"Uh... never been a singer, but I can try!"

This is a more likely part of the show- the audience sing-along!

Attempt to harmonize. Can't be that hard, right?

AoshimaMichio · « **Reply #1961 on:** January 19, 2017, 11:49:26 pm »

"Good morning, my friend! I'm Leif! What's up? What's the way up? Would you like to show me the way?"

Friendly questioning.

Harry Baldman · « **Reply #1962 on:** January 21, 2017, 12:15:34 pm »

Quote from: Xantalos on January 18, 2017, 02:38:20 pm

Break off a branch from the tree and start trimming it down while I reply.

"Oh, just heading to El with a friend. Why do you ask? And why the Johnny Depp getup?"

Traveling brigand it is then, the man says as you walk up next to him and break off a branch from the beech tree, letting your murder-thought start shaping it into a viable cane. But where are his manners? They call him Big Dipper, third mate of the Vault of Heavens. And he was here to ask your business in Hornsweir. And now that that's established well enough, also to invite you to the Captain's table for dinner - they're passing through themselves, mind you, but the village itself is a lot more accommodating for a wanderer than these deserted farmlands.

[Whittle Down: 4]

You consider this as you look at the whittled-down branch. Certainly it'd make a serviceable walking stick. Perhaps also a quarterstaff if the wielder felt like striking someone in the face with it.

Quote from: TopHat on January 19, 2017, 01:55:59 pm

Wait for the town to catch up, then call out to the inhabitants.
"Ahoy there! Is this the town the watchman spoke of?"

It catches up rather easily, at which point it slows its pace a little bit. You see dark figures gather on the walls, some out for a peek and leaving shortly, but most of them lingering. A few retain skin and eyes to see. Many stare with empty sockets. Some are decayed to nearly skeletal forms, and a few appear to have gone beyond that, looking like piles of mismatched old bones strung together by ancient leather, paper and desiccated flesh - the latter, you find, stare most intently of all, their eyes glinting in the clammy darkness of the bog.

[Gangway: 1]

And this seems to be what they are content to do - watch you, consider you. They certainly don't appear to be making an effort to speak with you, or communicate in some other way. They just continue to watch and progressively gather and chatter to each other in tongues even you scarcely can recognize, for there is little to even begin to make sense of.

Quote from: Toaster on January 19, 2017, 02:50:10 pm

"Uh... never been a singer, but I can try!"

This is a more likely part of the show- the audience sing-along!

Attempt to harmonize. Can't be that hard, right?

[Very Free And Easy: 5]

Wooorm, you harmonize and sing with the ranger. Claire joins in awkwardly, raising her arms to the air. Wooorm! Wooorm! The two of you begin a little dissonantly, but you manage to work out a balance. Wooorm! Woorm! Worm! All three of you follow the worms as they make their way toward the canyon, waving your arms in the air as you sing your song of attraction. You dare say it's the dumbest-looking ritual you've ever taken part with.

You need to dial it up, says the ranger! Put your heart into it! More importantly, put your throat into it! The vibration matters! You have to hit the right resonance for this to work! He demonstrates - wooooorm, he sings in a way that makes your bones tremble a little. Woooooooorm!

You look at Claire. She clears her throat a little. She's never done this before, does the ranger have any advice? Well, he says, first you need to arrange your lips like this, and conduct the air just like that - it'll be one note, but if you hit it right it'll be the only one you need. Wooorm!

[Sing From The Throat: 5]

It does seem weird to her, but she tries a few times to get herself into just the right state of song, and then lets loose with the sound - it synchronizes beautifully with the ranger's own wheeze, and the sound of wormsong fills the air. He motions for you to go for it, quick! You're nearly there!

Okay, so if you get this right, you need to lay your tongue out like this, inhale deeply, settle your neck exactly like this, and then you need to exhale, flex those vocal cords and then you have it! Woooooooorm, you sing in threefold harmony together, woooooooooorm! You feel yourself against all odds nearing some higher state of natural attunement as you see the wormhills in the distance pause, and begin to turn. You tingle inside as you synchronously take a deep breath, now confident of your abilities, and make one great call of

WORM

The wormhills veer suddenly as the earth shakes and the few remaining trees tremble, and split into four separate trails as they circle round in perfect symmetry to your collective song. The earth rumbles and you see a great three-jawed head easily the size of a double-decker bus emerge from the ground and sinuously twist into the sky as its oligochaete form weaves in a dance of successful seduction. Another emerges behind you, and to your right and left, one for each of the cardinal directions. Their mouths open in delight to reveal nightmarish dark cavernous maws.

Most bizarrely of all, however, you notice little pockets opening on their sides, shaved heads of men and women poking out from underneath folds of flesh and whole groups of people standing up out of the mouths, halfway between panic and utter confusion as some nearly fall out of their hiding places, their hands narrowly managing to catch on to the oversized slimy hairs on the sides of the great worms, hanging precariously and not a little comically from their incredible mounts as they shout for you to please stop.

Quote from: AoshimaMichio on January 19, 2017, 11:49:26 pm

"Good morning, my friend! I'm Leif! What's up? What's the way up? Would you like to show me the way?"

Friendly questioning.

Up is the sky, and the way up you've already found, he responds. You just need to follow it!

You look around at the mass of abstract images rising in great plumes and clouds as your mind's eye taps at crevices briefly before they skip out of view. Huh. You don't really see a way here. Just a bunch of cubes and orange-smelling things, little jack-in-the-boxes of perception that explode into strange confetti when you touch them. Today has been a lot like an octopus - you need only try and seize it to get a faceful of blackness and confusion.

[A Helping Hand: 5]

Oh right, he responds in three separate voices. You can't actually see that anymore. His mind is like a fountain of sensible chuckles as you close your jaws around it, grains of wisdom slipping through your teeth or grinding on them, and his curious curled snout dances like a kaleidoscope as he eludes simple meaning. You're not sure if you're still sitting on him, to be terribly honest, as he could just as easily now be behind you or someplace else entirely. You feel momentarily frustrated, and your bubbling does not pass unnoticed.

Okay, okay, he can show you the way but you, uh, will need to hold onto him somehow. You seem to have... misplaced your arms somehow.

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Xantalos · « **Reply #1963 on:** January 21, 2017, 05:30:13 pm »

"Vault of Heavens? You guys a merc group or something? 'Cause honestly that sounds like the name of a bandit group from this one game I used to play. Anyway, sure, I'll just go get my friend, he'd probably appreciate the food. Wait here."

Go get Alphonse and see if he can walk/limp with his new walking stick. If not, I'll just carry him back to ... Mustachio or whatever his nickname was. Then presumably it's go to meet the Captain or whoever!

Toaster · « **Reply #1964 on:** January 21, 2017, 09:20:28 pm »

((And again Thomas stumbles into power he doesn't believe in. This game is great.))

While one part of him wanted to stop and see what in the world these people thought they were doing, another part was rather enjoying this newfound singing ability. As a compromise, he turned to the ranger and attempted to signal a question as to if they should stop.

Ask the ranger non-verbally if we should stop. Stop he does. If stopping, greet the newcomers.

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Author Topic: Our Salvation: It Is Written (Read 243769 times)

Toaster

Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol

Harry Baldman

Re: Our Salvation: Halfway To Sheol

Toaster

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Xantalos

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AoshimaMichio

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TopHat

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penguinofhonor

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Harry Baldman

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Xantalos

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TopHat

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Toaster

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AoshimaMichio

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Harry Baldman

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Xantalos

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Toaster

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