#crazy-processed-synth

[chefwarly-blog]

(crazy-processed-synth) Playing his half-burnt clarinet in the woods was a very stress-releasing activity for the 23 year old, hearing a low rustle from the trees nearby, he stopped playing and brought out his axe, in case the passerby was hostile

Warly had heard many an unfamiliar sound in the forests farther from his island, but this one he recognized. It had been a long while since he’d heard proper music of any sort, and while he knew it could have been a trap, he couldn’t help but follow the sound until he saw its source: what appeared to be a robot of some kind. It was similar to the hostile chess pieces he’d seen before, but at the same time markedly different. When it realized he was watching, however, it stopped at once and drew a weapon. Warly froze, unsure of what to do besides raise his hands and show they were empty.

[umbrae-monstrum-blog]

(crazy-processed-synth) The 23 year old sat down by his newly made fire. Feeling it's warmth, Xavier sighed and laid back against the tree he was next to. The nighttime is the only time he was more relaxed than usual, or that's what he thought.

Charlie prowled close along the edge of the stranger’s camp. She hadn’t seen anyone or anything quite like this before. The survivor appeared to be made out of shiny metal, certainly not something that would promise a meal. Nonetheless, she lingered close, thoroughly intrigued.

[webbernest-blog]

♒ (crazy-processed-synth)

♒ = lying to them

“Why would you do that, Mr.Robo? Grandpa said friends don’t lie to friends! Tell us next time!”

[scientificallystarving]

(crazy-processed-synth) "STUPID EVERYTHING! EVEN TREES I CANT CHOP PEACEFULLY!" WX shouted furiously after being chased by multiple birchnutters and a treeguard. On the far distance he saw a camp where he can stay for the night "PERFECT!" he dashed and went into the camp just before dusk arrived. He gasped in awe at what the inside contained, not aware that the owner was coming home

The camp obviously took some time and effort to be way it currently stood. It was outfitted with stone walls to protect the interior. It had a makeshift kitchen complete with crock pot, ice box, and prepping table. There was a larger crock pot in the corner that was big enough for a person to fit into comfortably. Several odd machinery lined the back wall next to the large of two tents. With all this along with the faint line of smoke emanating from the recently lit fire-pit, this camp was by no means abandoned.

Wilson groaned as he waddled his own way back to camp, aching all over. He felt like a damn fool having forgotten to to check his supply of emergency pine-cones before leaving that morning. It wasn’t like he thought he would need them! He was going out to collect bees to live in his own crafted boxes; the prospect of collecting honey with ease was favorable indeed. He only collected a few before he heard the roar of an infuriated treeguard, whom he didn’t recall awakening in the first place. He didn’t eve have a chance to escape before receiving a hard hit that sent him crashing into the near by bee hive, enraging the entire colony. And then to top it all off, he had to run into another enraged tree in the form of a poison berchnut.

He still didn’t even know what had caused the local flora to be so aggro, but at this moment it didn’t fully matter. He had several wounds now that he needed to see to. Glancing down at his furry companion, currently buzzing like mad as he held in several bees, Wilson smiled weakly as they approached their makeshift home, “At least the day wasn’t a complete waste, right boy?”