"And when the earth had been created, she called forth the god of time to breath upon it's surface that it might know the passage of life."
If you wish to pray to willing ears, or call for the favor of a god; seek out the great mother, Cerca. You will not receive such from me.
You have entered the (internet) domain of the god of time. Watch your step lest in a moment of rage he should smite you. Other than that, do your worst.
Oh, and remember that you are talking to two deities in the form of one god. I can't really explain everything. Ask him. Or someone else.
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
The strange young faun stepped forward, holding his hands up to show he’s unarmed.
“They were hurting your home, weren’t they?”
Cinnie tries not to look at the violent scene surrounding him, focusing on the stranger. He’d heard about the spirits of forests. …Surely he could reason with one?
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
A small tilt of her head. Curls swirled around as the siren had watched it all from the stream that ran through the forest. The sight of blood and guts that filled the floor.
Her bare feet touched the forest grounds as she looks around. Her eyes shimmer as she looks up to the cryptid. A simple tilt of her head as she spoke up. "About time you did something...." She comments. Her scales shimmer in the low moon light as she walks around more. Seeing the camp in the distance as she wanted to help. This was her home too like the rest of the nature that claims it as such
He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, then takes one in, his chest rising and falling as he momentarily gathered himself. The skull hid his face, but she could feel the soft relief when he saw that she was on his side.
The remaining men, hope that she is their goddess, come to save them. They cry out, begging her to free them.
Sienna tilts her head as she growls. Her razor sharp teeth flare out as she chomps into one, tearing off their neck as she let them drop.
The bitter silence graced them.
Her head whips back towards the others as she lundged. One by one letting them scramble away, letting them howl in fear as she was determined to make them suffer too. An eye for an eye right?
He watches, keeping up the vines only enough to prevent them from escape. She had suffered long enough at the human's hands. She deserved to take out her anger. Her wrath.
There is a feeling of amusement about him as the pleas turn to cries of terror.
As the shrill cries stopped. She was quiet as she wipes her mouth. Looking back to the cryptid as she walks over and bows her head. "Thank you for that..."
She looks around to the mess she made. She'll have to clean it up and hide the evidence. She blew a few bubbles in frustration. "....I've heard of you..."
They return the bow, pushing the skull back to show a surprisingly gentle face. She could just see the toll of the years beginning to worm its way into the lines around his pale green eyes. Yet, the glow of youth still clung to cheeks, rosy from the sunlight. A being older than the ages, and yet so young compared to the ancients.
"You have heard of me?" They pause to murmur a spell, decomposing the bodies around them, then look up to meet her eyes once more. "What have you heard?"
Sienna tilts her head as the skull was moved and she took a pause. The siren stares for a moment as she looks away, trying to keep her composure. Handsome.
"The animals speak. The fish whisper. It's honestly interesting what they say when no one is supposed to be listening." She blinks a bit. "...you care for the land...you care for this area.. and you're old." She whispers the last part.
He tips his head, listening to her words, watching the wind shift her curls. Hearing what the plants said about her.
"They are kind. Am I old? I have forgotten the meaning of years. Perhaps that is only a sign of my age." They let out a soft breath. "Who are you, siren?"
Sienna smiles a bit to that. "I suppose they say you're old because they're much newer to this land."
She looks around them as she walks on over. Letting her steps touch the grass as she hums. "Sienna. I wander through here from time to time...it's a beautiful land I must say. Well...besides the damage those...things have done."
"From time to time?" They remain still as she approaches, their feet as fixed to the earth as if they had taken root. His eyes follow her movements, dropping to her feet and the sway of her hips, and then back to her eyes.
"Sienna. I am glad to have met you. I hope you will come by more frequently. Perhaps we can get to know each other."
"Fir. It is the closest translation I can give." He shifts his gaze away, focusing on the red glow in the sky, promising the rising of the sun. "I appreciate the help."
Sienna gently nods her head as she smiles. "Anytime..." She winks at him as she slips back into the forest. Her curls flowed behind her as she vanished out of sight. He'll see her again-
His eyes follow her until she is out of sight, his breath catching at the wink. He didn't have time to think about what it meant, but he would anyway. Shaking himself, he focuses on completely removing any sign of the humans
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
The strange young faun stepped forward, holding his hands up to show he’s unarmed.
“They were hurting your home, weren’t they?”
Cinnie tries not to look at the violent scene surrounding him, focusing on the stranger. He’d heard about the spirits of forests. …Surely he could reason with one?
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
The strange young faun stepped forward, holding his hands up to show he’s unarmed.
“They were hurting your home, weren’t they?”
Cinnie tries not to look at the violent scene surrounding him, focusing on the stranger. He’d heard about the spirits of forests. …Surely he could reason with one?
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
A small tilt of her head. Curls swirled around as the siren had watched it all from the stream that ran through the forest. The sight of blood and guts that filled the floor.
Her bare feet touched the forest grounds as she looks around. Her eyes shimmer as she looks up to the cryptid. A simple tilt of her head as she spoke up. "About time you did something...." She comments. Her scales shimmer in the low moon light as she walks around more. Seeing the camp in the distance as she wanted to help. This was her home too like the rest of the nature that claims it as such
He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, then takes one in, his chest rising and falling as he momentarily gathered himself. The skull hid his face, but she could feel the soft relief when he saw that she was on his side.
The remaining men, hope that she is their goddess, come to save them. They cry out, begging her to free them.
Sienna tilts her head as she growls. Her razor sharp teeth flare out as she chomps into one, tearing off their neck as she let them drop.
The bitter silence graced them.
Her head whips back towards the others as she lundged. One by one letting them scramble away, letting them howl in fear as she was determined to make them suffer too. An eye for an eye right?
He watches, keeping up the vines only enough to prevent them from escape. She had suffered long enough at the human's hands. She deserved to take out her anger. Her wrath.
There is a feeling of amusement about him as the pleas turn to cries of terror.
As the shrill cries stopped. She was quiet as she wipes her mouth. Looking back to the cryptid as she walks over and bows her head. "Thank you for that..."
She looks around to the mess she made. She'll have to clean it up and hide the evidence. She blew a few bubbles in frustration. "....I've heard of you..."
They return the bow, pushing the skull back to show a surprisingly gentle face. She could just see the toll of the years beginning to worm its way into the lines around his pale green eyes. Yet, the glow of youth still clung to cheeks, rosy from the sunlight. A being older than the ages, and yet so young compared to the ancients.
"You have heard of me?" They pause to murmur a spell, decomposing the bodies around them, then look up to meet her eyes once more. "What have you heard?"
Sienna tilts her head as the skull was moved and she took a pause. The siren stares for a moment as she looks away, trying to keep her composure. Handsome.
"The animals speak. The fish whisper. It's honestly interesting what they say when no one is supposed to be listening." She blinks a bit. "...you care for the land...you care for this area.. and you're old." She whispers the last part.
He tips his head, listening to her words, watching the wind shift her curls. Hearing what the plants said about her.
"They are kind. Am I old? I have forgotten the meaning of years. Perhaps that is only a sign of my age." They let out a soft breath. "Who are you, siren?"
Sienna smiles a bit to that. "I suppose they say you're old because they're much newer to this land."
She looks around them as she walks on over. Letting her steps touch the grass as she hums. "Sienna. I wander through here from time to time...it's a beautiful land I must say. Well...besides the damage those...things have done."
"From time to time?" They remain still as she approaches, their feet as fixed to the earth as if they had taken root. His eyes follow her movements, dropping to her feet and the sway of her hips, and then back to her eyes.
"Sienna. I am glad to have met you. I hope you will come by more frequently. Perhaps we can get to know each other."
"Fir. It is the closest translation I can give." He shifts his gaze away, focusing on the red glow in the sky, promising the rising of the sun. "I appreciate the help."
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
A small tilt of her head. Curls swirled around as the siren had watched it all from the stream that ran through the forest. The sight of blood and guts that filled the floor.
Her bare feet touched the forest grounds as she looks around. Her eyes shimmer as she looks up to the cryptid. A simple tilt of her head as she spoke up. "About time you did something...." She comments. Her scales shimmer in the low moon light as she walks around more. Seeing the camp in the distance as she wanted to help. This was her home too like the rest of the nature that claims it as such
He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, then takes one in, his chest rising and falling as he momentarily gathered himself. The skull hid his face, but she could feel the soft relief when he saw that she was on his side.
The remaining men, hope that she is their goddess, come to save them. They cry out, begging her to free them.
Sienna tilts her head as she growls. Her razor sharp teeth flare out as she chomps into one, tearing off their neck as she let them drop.
The bitter silence graced them.
Her head whips back towards the others as she lundged. One by one letting them scramble away, letting them howl in fear as she was determined to make them suffer too. An eye for an eye right?
He watches, keeping up the vines only enough to prevent them from escape. She had suffered long enough at the human's hands. She deserved to take out her anger. Her wrath.
There is a feeling of amusement about him as the pleas turn to cries of terror.
As the shrill cries stopped. She was quiet as she wipes her mouth. Looking back to the cryptid as she walks over and bows her head. "Thank you for that..."
She looks around to the mess she made. She'll have to clean it up and hide the evidence. She blew a few bubbles in frustration. "....I've heard of you..."
They return the bow, pushing the skull back to show a surprisingly gentle face. She could just see the toll of the years beginning to worm its way into the lines around his pale green eyes. Yet, the glow of youth still clung to cheeks, rosy from the sunlight. A being older than the ages, and yet so young compared to the ancients.
"You have heard of me?" They pause to murmur a spell, decomposing the bodies around them, then look up to meet her eyes once more. "What have you heard?"
Sienna tilts her head as the skull was moved and she took a pause. The siren stares for a moment as she looks away, trying to keep her composure. Handsome.
"The animals speak. The fish whisper. It's honestly interesting what they say when no one is supposed to be listening." She blinks a bit. "...you care for the land...you care for this area.. and you're old." She whispers the last part.
He tips his head, listening to her words, watching the wind shift her curls. Hearing what the plants said about her.
"They are kind. Am I old? I have forgotten the meaning of years. Perhaps that is only a sign of my age." They let out a soft breath. "Who are you, siren?"
Sienna smiles a bit to that. "I suppose they say you're old because they're much newer to this land."
She looks around them as she walks on over. Letting her steps touch the grass as she hums. "Sienna. I wander through here from time to time...it's a beautiful land I must say. Well...besides the damage those...things have done."
"From time to time?" They remain still as she approaches, their feet as fixed to the earth as if they had taken root. His eyes follow her movements, dropping to her feet and the sway of her hips, and then back to her eyes.
"Sienna. I am glad to have met you. I hope you will come by more frequently. Perhaps we can get to know each other."
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
A small tilt of her head. Curls swirled around as the siren had watched it all from the stream that ran through the forest. The sight of blood and guts that filled the floor.
Her bare feet touched the forest grounds as she looks around. Her eyes shimmer as she looks up to the cryptid. A simple tilt of her head as she spoke up. "About time you did something...." She comments. Her scales shimmer in the low moon light as she walks around more. Seeing the camp in the distance as she wanted to help. This was her home too like the rest of the nature that claims it as such
He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, then takes one in, his chest rising and falling as he momentarily gathered himself. The skull hid his face, but she could feel the soft relief when he saw that she was on his side.
The remaining men, hope that she is their goddess, come to save them. They cry out, begging her to free them.
Sienna tilts her head as she growls. Her razor sharp teeth flare out as she chomps into one, tearing off their neck as she let them drop.
The bitter silence graced them.
Her head whips back towards the others as she lundged. One by one letting them scramble away, letting them howl in fear as she was determined to make them suffer too. An eye for an eye right?
He watches, keeping up the vines only enough to prevent them from escape. She had suffered long enough at the human's hands. She deserved to take out her anger. Her wrath.
There is a feeling of amusement about him as the pleas turn to cries of terror.
As the shrill cries stopped. She was quiet as she wipes her mouth. Looking back to the cryptid as she walks over and bows her head. "Thank you for that..."
She looks around to the mess she made. She'll have to clean it up and hide the evidence. She blew a few bubbles in frustration. "....I've heard of you..."
They return the bow, pushing the skull back to show a surprisingly gentle face. She could just see the toll of the years beginning to worm its way into the lines around his pale green eyes. Yet, the glow of youth still clung to cheeks, rosy from the sunlight. A being older than the ages, and yet so young compared to the ancients.
"You have heard of me?" They pause to murmur a spell, decomposing the bodies around them, then look up to meet her eyes once more. "What have you heard?"
Sienna tilts her head as the skull was moved and she took a pause. The siren stares for a moment as she looks away, trying to keep her composure. Handsome.
"The animals speak. The fish whisper. It's honestly interesting what they say when no one is supposed to be listening." She blinks a bit. "...you care for the land...you care for this area.. and you're old." She whispers the last part.
He tips his head, listening to her words, watching the wind shift her curls. Hearing what the plants said about her.
"They are kind. Am I old? I have forgotten the meaning of years. Perhaps that is only a sign of my age." They let out a soft breath. "Who are you, siren?"
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
A small tilt of her head. Curls swirled around as the siren had watched it all from the stream that ran through the forest. The sight of blood and guts that filled the floor.
Her bare feet touched the forest grounds as she looks around. Her eyes shimmer as she looks up to the cryptid. A simple tilt of her head as she spoke up. "About time you did something...." She comments. Her scales shimmer in the low moon light as she walks around more. Seeing the camp in the distance as she wanted to help. This was her home too like the rest of the nature that claims it as such
He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, then takes one in, his chest rising and falling as he momentarily gathered himself. The skull hid his face, but she could feel the soft relief when he saw that she was on his side.
The remaining men, hope that she is their goddess, come to save them. They cry out, begging her to free them.
Sienna tilts her head as she growls. Her razor sharp teeth flare out as she chomps into one, tearing off their neck as she let them drop.
The bitter silence graced them.
Her head whips back towards the others as she lundged. One by one letting them scramble away, letting them howl in fear as she was determined to make them suffer too. An eye for an eye right?
He watches, keeping up the vines only enough to prevent them from escape. She had suffered long enough at the human's hands. She deserved to take out her anger. Her wrath.
There is a feeling of amusement about him as the pleas turn to cries of terror.
As the shrill cries stopped. She was quiet as she wipes her mouth. Looking back to the cryptid as she walks over and bows her head. "Thank you for that..."
She looks around to the mess she made. She'll have to clean it up and hide the evidence. She blew a few bubbles in frustration. "....I've heard of you..."
They return the bow, pushing the skull back to show a surprisingly gentle face. She could just see the toll of the years beginning to worm its way into the lines around his pale green eyes. Yet, the glow of youth still clung to cheeks, rosy from the sunlight. A being older than the ages, and yet so young compared to the ancients.
"You have heard of me?" They pause to murmur a spell, decomposing the bodies around them, then look up to meet her eyes once more. "What have you heard?"
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
A small tilt of her head. Curls swirled around as the siren had watched it all from the stream that ran through the forest. The sight of blood and guts that filled the floor.
Her bare feet touched the forest grounds as she looks around. Her eyes shimmer as she looks up to the cryptid. A simple tilt of her head as she spoke up. "About time you did something...." She comments. Her scales shimmer in the low moon light as she walks around more. Seeing the camp in the distance as she wanted to help. This was her home too like the rest of the nature that claims it as such
He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, then takes one in, his chest rising and falling as he momentarily gathered himself. The skull hid his face, but she could feel the soft relief when he saw that she was on his side.
The remaining men, hope that she is their goddess, come to save them. They cry out, begging her to free them.
Sienna tilts her head as she growls. Her razor sharp teeth flare out as she chomps into one, tearing off their neck as she let them drop.
The bitter silence graced them.
Her head whips back towards the others as she lundged. One by one letting them scramble away, letting them howl in fear as she was determined to make them suffer too. An eye for an eye right?
He watches, keeping up the vines only enough to prevent them from escape. She had suffered long enough at the human's hands. She deserved to take out her anger. Her wrath.
There is a feeling of amusement about him as the pleas turn to cries of terror.
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
A small tilt of her head. Curls swirled around as the siren had watched it all from the stream that ran through the forest. The sight of blood and guts that filled the floor.
Her bare feet touched the forest grounds as she looks around. Her eyes shimmer as she looks up to the cryptid. A simple tilt of her head as she spoke up. "About time you did something...." She comments. Her scales shimmer in the low moon light as she walks around more. Seeing the camp in the distance as she wanted to help. This was her home too like the rest of the nature that claims it as such
He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, then takes one in, his chest rising and falling as he momentarily gathered himself. The skull hid his face, but she could feel the soft relief when he saw that she was on his side.
The remaining men, hope that she is their goddess, come to save them. They cry out, begging her to free them.
IMPORTANT: I found the middle image on Pinterest and could not find the original artist. If you know, please tell me so I can either give them proper credit or take it down if they don't want it to be used.
CW: Possible gore, Violence, Threats, implied brutality, strong language.
Don't mess with the local criptid. That goes unsaid in most places, yet the larger the city, the more over confident they get in their selves. In their ownership of the land. When the governer had suggested clearing some of the woods to make room for new buildings, a few of the older citizens had warned against it. They said the forest was soaked in ancient magic, powers beyond human knowledge. They were, of course, ignored and dismissed.
The loggers were sent out, and returned with ghost tales about the forest coming alive at night. About the darkness and the cold, and the whispers of angery spirits. Yet, this did not diswade them. The governer told the loggers not to scare the townfolk and to camp farther from the woods.
There is a limit, it turns out, to how much damage you can do before the local criptid comes out to deal with the problem theirself. The skull mask said the being was a sorceror, but they used far different powers. With a whisper and a clap of thunder, they caused vines to sprout from the ground, wripping apart both man and tool mercilessly.
They are stopped by the one that approached them directly. Taking the risk, or perhaps unafraid. They lower their hands, letting the vines fall to the ground, waiting for the stranger to speak.
As Thojin walked the street, something rolled beneath his foot, almost tripping him.
In a small wooden cage, a pixie squeaks indignantly, holding onto her prison for dear life as she yells insults at the passerby!
Rude! Clumsy! Horrible! Can’t even notice the person beneath their feet, can they?
She sneezes loudly, a rude gesture amongst pixies, letting her feelings be quite known! Even though she could tell no one was listening.
~🧵🦋
Thojin comes to a stop, crouching down to find the wooden cage, for, despite the appearance of blindness, he could see her. After all, she was within the time stream; a gleaming, changing light.
"Are you alright little one?"
He wished to ask more, like what a pixie was doing in the mountains, and how she ended up in a cage, but those were not polite questions.
“No! I’ve been kicked and stepped on and I am quite honestly without patience!”
She clears her throat politely, attempting to regain her composure. The pixie pulls her hair back, folding her scaled wings behind her.
“I would appreciate it if you could give me a lift up from the path, sir.”
Blackberry was quite miffed by her ride around the passerby’s feet. She’d only been outside her cocoon one day, and this had happened to her already! The indignity! The horror!
“…not at all, but the top won’t open! I tried and tried to do it, it just won’t work.”
She crosses her arms, pouting slightly.
“It’s impossible!”
On closer look, the only thing holding the cage lid closed, was a carved wooden hinge. It made the pixie’s miniscule size seem the reason why it wouldn’t open.
“I don’t suppose you have anything you can use to break the bars? You might be a strong man, I can’t tell..”
“Yes, well- I was someplace warmer. But then I woke up here! You see, I was finally able to bundle myself up for these beautiful wings I have now… but apparently my cocoon got snatched off my balcony!”
She sneezes, a soft twinkling sound of disbelief.
“I’m in such a situation, sir!”
The pixie sits down on his shoulder, resting her head in her hands.
That simply wasn't a very helpful description at all. She had discribed every pixie village he'd ever heard of. Not that there was much point in saying so; clearly she was doing her best.
"For now, perhaps I can find you a place to stay and offer you a meal? '
Null, the small town that Thojin happens to be visiting, is still recovering from a long winter. It is wet and grey and icy, and everyone seems to be hurrying to get inside. During the summer, it had some gorgeous trees that would have provided shade, but right now they were but barreb shadows of themselves.
Thojin carries Blackberry to the inn he is staying at.
"Its not the season for fruit, but I'll do my best."
He orders a couple slices of bread slathered in an apple jam, and a large bowl of stew. Searching through his pockets, he finds a thimble for her to use as a mug and fills it with broth.
As Thojin walked the street, something rolled beneath his foot, almost tripping him.
In a small wooden cage, a pixie squeaks indignantly, holding onto her prison for dear life as she yells insults at the passerby!
Rude! Clumsy! Horrible! Can’t even notice the person beneath their feet, can they?
She sneezes loudly, a rude gesture amongst pixies, letting her feelings be quite known! Even though she could tell no one was listening.
~🧵🦋
Thojin comes to a stop, crouching down to find the wooden cage, for, despite the appearance of blindness, he could see her. After all, she was within the time stream; a gleaming, changing light.
"Are you alright little one?"
He wished to ask more, like what a pixie was doing in the mountains, and how she ended up in a cage, but those were not polite questions.
“No! I’ve been kicked and stepped on and I am quite honestly without patience!”
She clears her throat politely, attempting to regain her composure. The pixie pulls her hair back, folding her scaled wings behind her.
“I would appreciate it if you could give me a lift up from the path, sir.”
Blackberry was quite miffed by her ride around the passerby’s feet. She’d only been outside her cocoon one day, and this had happened to her already! The indignity! The horror!
“…not at all, but the top won’t open! I tried and tried to do it, it just won’t work.”
She crosses her arms, pouting slightly.
“It’s impossible!”
On closer look, the only thing holding the cage lid closed, was a carved wooden hinge. It made the pixie’s miniscule size seem the reason why it wouldn’t open.
“I don’t suppose you have anything you can use to break the bars? You might be a strong man, I can’t tell..”
“Yes, well- I was someplace warmer. But then I woke up here! You see, I was finally able to bundle myself up for these beautiful wings I have now… but apparently my cocoon got snatched off my balcony!”
She sneezes, a soft twinkling sound of disbelief.
“I’m in such a situation, sir!”
The pixie sits down on his shoulder, resting her head in her hands.
That simply wasn't a very helpful description at all. She had discribed every pixie village he'd ever heard of. Not that there was much point in saying so; clearly she was doing her best.
"For now, perhaps I can find you a place to stay and offer you a meal? '
Null, the small town that Thojin happens to be visiting, is still recovering from a long winter. It is wet and grey and icy, and everyone seems to be hurrying to get inside. During the summer, it had some gorgeous trees that would have provided shade, but right now they were but barreb shadows of themselves.
Thojin carries Blackberry to the inn he is staying at.
"Its not the season for fruit, but I'll do my best."
He orders a couple slices of bread slathered in an apple jam, and a large bowl of stew. Searching through his pockets, he finds a thimble for her to use as a mug and fills it with broth.
As Thojin walked the street, something rolled beneath his foot, almost tripping him.
In a small wooden cage, a pixie squeaks indignantly, holding onto her prison for dear life as she yells insults at the passerby!
Rude! Clumsy! Horrible! Can’t even notice the person beneath their feet, can they?
She sneezes loudly, a rude gesture amongst pixies, letting her feelings be quite known! Even though she could tell no one was listening.
~🧵🦋
Thojin comes to a stop, crouching down to find the wooden cage, for, despite the appearance of blindness, he could see her. After all, she was within the time stream; a gleaming, changing light.
"Are you alright little one?"
He wished to ask more, like what a pixie was doing in the mountains, and how she ended up in a cage, but those were not polite questions.
“No! I’ve been kicked and stepped on and I am quite honestly without patience!”
She clears her throat politely, attempting to regain her composure. The pixie pulls her hair back, folding her scaled wings behind her.
“I would appreciate it if you could give me a lift up from the path, sir.”
Blackberry was quite miffed by her ride around the passerby’s feet. She’d only been outside her cocoon one day, and this had happened to her already! The indignity! The horror!
“…not at all, but the top won’t open! I tried and tried to do it, it just won’t work.”
She crosses her arms, pouting slightly.
“It’s impossible!”
On closer look, the only thing holding the cage lid closed, was a carved wooden hinge. It made the pixie’s miniscule size seem the reason why it wouldn’t open.
“I don’t suppose you have anything you can use to break the bars? You might be a strong man, I can’t tell..”
“Yes, well- I was someplace warmer. But then I woke up here! You see, I was finally able to bundle myself up for these beautiful wings I have now… but apparently my cocoon got snatched off my balcony!”
She sneezes, a soft twinkling sound of disbelief.
“I’m in such a situation, sir!”
The pixie sits down on his shoulder, resting her head in her hands.
That simply wasn't a very helpful description at all. She had discribed every pixie village he'd ever heard of. Not that there was much point in saying so; clearly she was doing her best.
"For now, perhaps I can find you a place to stay and offer you a meal? '
Null, the small town that Thojin happens to be visiting, is still recovering from a long winter. It is wet and grey and icy, and everyone seems to be hurrying to get inside. During the summer, it had some gorgeous trees that would have provided shade, but right now they were but barreb shadows of themselves.
Thojin carries Blackberry to the inn he is staying at.
As Thojin walked the street, something rolled beneath his foot, almost tripping him.
In a small wooden cage, a pixie squeaks indignantly, holding onto her prison for dear life as she yells insults at the passerby!
Rude! Clumsy! Horrible! Can’t even notice the person beneath their feet, can they?
She sneezes loudly, a rude gesture amongst pixies, letting her feelings be quite known! Even though she could tell no one was listening.
~🧵🦋
Thojin comes to a stop, crouching down to find the wooden cage, for, despite the appearance of blindness, he could see her. After all, she was within the time stream; a gleaming, changing light.
"Are you alright little one?"
He wished to ask more, like what a pixie was doing in the mountains, and how she ended up in a cage, but those were not polite questions.
“No! I’ve been kicked and stepped on and I am quite honestly without patience!”
She clears her throat politely, attempting to regain her composure. The pixie pulls her hair back, folding her scaled wings behind her.
“I would appreciate it if you could give me a lift up from the path, sir.”
Blackberry was quite miffed by her ride around the passerby’s feet. She’d only been outside her cocoon one day, and this had happened to her already! The indignity! The horror!
“…not at all, but the top won’t open! I tried and tried to do it, it just won’t work.”
She crosses her arms, pouting slightly.
“It’s impossible!”
On closer look, the only thing holding the cage lid closed, was a carved wooden hinge. It made the pixie’s miniscule size seem the reason why it wouldn’t open.
“I don’t suppose you have anything you can use to break the bars? You might be a strong man, I can’t tell..”
“Yes, well- I was someplace warmer. But then I woke up here! You see, I was finally able to bundle myself up for these beautiful wings I have now… but apparently my cocoon got snatched off my balcony!”
She sneezes, a soft twinkling sound of disbelief.
“I’m in such a situation, sir!”
The pixie sits down on his shoulder, resting her head in her hands.
That simply wasn't a very helpful description at all. She had discribed every pixie village he'd ever heard of. Not that there was much point in saying so; clearly she was doing her best.
"For now, perhaps I can find you a place to stay and offer you a meal? '
Without time, humanity is doomed. @tempkarios - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
