scrawls

on loxodons:
-big
-real loxodons have extensive control of their trunks
-slon’s trunk seems to have a mind of its own
-all loxodons?
-sex/gender still indeterminate..
-main loxodon male, with trunk being female?
places to mat with blood:
-feet: singed from lava
-butt: singed from lava

why am i writing? i must not have had mead yet

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damn. mead stain

need to do something cool with this hellhound skull
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damnit….poked my finger….

maybe make a garrot with the hellhound teeth? could probably mage hand a shoelace from someone…..Kel needs to trip every now and then….get off his high horse….slon may even get a kick out of it….hehe…kick…shoe…..he seems to be in it for the same reasons….pure shits and giggles….right….lace…..we all know how much i love a lusty bar wench in a lace corset

whelp….vhasa aint doing much with her arm for a while….serves her right for threatening me. i suppose i got juiced….call it even? with all this spare time i should get the broth….bar up and running…..small gambling ring…..lawful prostitution….no pimps cause that makes everything ugly…and a fighting pit…..idk. its gonna be fun. its sad though….now slon actually can’t have a cat because i need the cat that i totally wasn’t carrying through the jungle….and blessing……totally wasn’t holding two cats through there….nope…..they don’t read this thing do they? i should send a bird to my old buddies….they could help me start the bar and form the sneaky bastard legion
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haha…they stood like that for six hours for a portrait

My back story as it all comes back…in third person because i love myself just that much

Wade Forit was originally not Wade Forit. He has assumed many identities over the course of his life, and his past ones are long gone. As an outsider in his former city, he was originally known as the grey horid abomination of a man, as it was not known that he could change shape. One day after a more intense amount of ridicule in a fit of stress he shifted, taking on the appearance of his aggressor. Frightened, the aggressor fled the conflict and dropped the knife he was brandishing. In the blades reflection, wade gazed upon his human face, still that of the aggressor. Having taken too much of the aggression he walked away from his city until his soles were gone and his feet were bloody. A traveling company of soldiers passed him at the edge of the trail. Kel, their captain, wanted haste and attempted to neglect him as there were larger things at stake. His first mate, with eyes fixed on kel, his pupils dilating into hearts, affirmed the necessity of their haste and the company soldiered on. One medic stayed behind to help Wade, tend to his feet, and gave him enough rations to get to the nearest town. Wade forgave Kel for his unkind haste, but never forgot.

Finding another city, Wade assumed a new life, as no one knew his current face. To make ends meet and live rather well, he dealt with the criminal underworld. In passing he came upon a man looking to sell something big, that wasn’t commonly sold. Wade recommended the black market in passing, but Wyrwend knew that no one in that market had a book that could offer him the knowledge to complete his quest. Sometime after, a contract went wrong, and a building was burned down in the altercation (torches…a burning hands…a searing smite missed….no one is quite sure). Many died in the fire, including two parents with a lot of money….it was a Very Fiery Death. It was quite unfortunate. Somehow wade was left alive. A traveling cleric tended to his wounds, the main one being a rafter smashing him in the back of the head. She introduced herself as Vhasa, and did what she could to fix his head.

Wade could not think of a name to give her as he regained consciousness. Another man, his greatest friend, lay dead next to him on the ground next to the rubble and ash. Knights were coming to investigate, so before Vhasa could return to evaluate Wade’s condition further, he assumed the face of his friend in his memory, put on a tattered cloak, and walked away from it all, his second home dead to him. He fled to the jungle and joined the company of sloths, who all lead very simple stress free lives. Eventually getting bored a week later, Wade left their company, but could now don the appearance of a sloth. He did more contract work in a third village, keeping no ties. He always stayed at an inn, or on the outskirts of the city, with only his clothes and sword to his name. His contracts, being people, got messy often (paper trails aren’t ok…but blood trails look fucking cool), but never washed away. Wade became a perpetual crimson color from all the blood caked upon his fur. Eventually becoming morally conflicted with his line of work, he quit. He changed into the face of the fourth to last person he killed (for security’s sake), and then walked away.

Finally reaching an inn, he asked for a bottle of mead to forget his troubles…and then another bottle….and thought very hard (not really) about getting a third bottle but elected not to. Three figures walked in, looking shinier than the rest of the low lives in the tavern….and then one person followed in tow, with a misplaced fondness for one of them. The mines of madness escaped Kel’s mouth, and soon whispers of the cave spread like a quiet wildfire. In a drunken stupor, Wade made a bet with the bartender that he could walk out of the mines of madness alive. The next morning, he walked with the four others to the mines, finding them all too familiar.

scrawls

Avengnerds: Assmeble! Theboy