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@the-infectove
TeLL Me WHy We MaDe THiS
WELCOME TO MY HOLLOWKNIGHT OC BLOG! the moths name is: Brashy the taller vessel is: Blkde the Grimm Ghost is: Grimmzr the Crystal Ghost is: Shiey the Radiance Ghost is: Radier the Lifeblood ghost is: Maszer SOME RULES
And Lo, I inflict my vessel creature upon thee! Feel free to interact with any of yours, and welcome again to Pharloomblr!
----
*The mushroom capped caverns of the Fungal Wastes steamed from burbling pools of pale green acid, the woody thrum of sound echoing through the tunnels downward. Amblooms ambled along while funglings and fungoons drifted aimlessly, bouncing off purple round capped shrooms.*
*In a cavern close to the abandoned Queen's Station now rung silent stood a stocky figure in a yellow dandelion down cloak, a pale mask of shell true crowned by twisting rootlike horns was surveying the area. Indeed, surveying seemed the best word for it, given three dark eyes peered from three green tinted goggle lenses peered down at a sheet of vellum parchment over scribbles in what could be a passable map, were someone to squint.*
*For now, the figure remained still, sketching another few lines into parchment, yet not quite a relaxed still. Best to approach with caution after all.*
@mapmaker-vess0l
*Grimmzr approaches, so does the grimmchild that follows it, and a small weaverling the small child seems to be looking for...something. it sees the figure. and approches staff in hand* "...greetings." *the grimmchild stares....and so does the weaverling. the vessel seems....unhollowed. it has a eerie red light in its eyes. same color as most grimmtroupe colors* "what brings you here?"
*The stocky figure turned, voided eyes blinking in a wave of one, two, three. They had not expected to be approached, and to them, well, tis a third not quite mirror, this more twisted than the other two Casseopea had encountered. This doppelganger too, pale shell mask albiet spiderwebbed with cracks, four sharp jutting horns similar to Casseopea's own. Four eyes - two large and true, two smaller above them - aglow from within from unholy crimson light.*
*This, truly, from their bearing, how how they carry themselves, the cloak colouration and hissing creature of sulfur at their neck and call, this has to be truly one of those Grimm Fanatics of the death troupe Cass had heard of, but never seen. And this not quite mirror in front of them too, a little shorter than them, they looked like the other that Cass had seen come through with two spitting sulfur beasts on their shoulders, acting as their caretaker.*
*Casseopea was wary. They had learned to be wary, especially in places of danger, one voided paw hovering. Those grim creatures spoke flame, and small weaverlings - much as their past mentor Eiva - were still a quick and deadly bunch. The bug before them too spoke, rasping static tones, but speaking too.*
*And yet Casseopea was not one for the spoken word. Their hovering paw stilled before making motion, spelling out signs in careful, no nonsense dictation in simple trade hand.*
Mapping survey
Maps sell well.
*the smaller Vessel stares* "maps?. no use for maps when one has memorized their way" *the smaller being approches. it gets as close as possible. the grimmchild sniffs them, the child seems to not be...scared. quite the reverse* "what. are. you?" *it looks for the taller vessels weapon of choice reason is hard to tell* "what do you fight with?" *it keeps looking. the grimmchild seems weary*
*This not-quite-mirror was a lot more plain and talkative, that was for certain, and something Cass made a mental note of. Put it did mean not having to spend more mental energy to figure out how to converse. They blinked again, right, left, center, not quite still, but quite moving, just waiting, listening. The insult to cartography had been noted, but was not given a response.*
*The flame spitting beast was cautious, which meant to remain on edge lest it react. The weaverling - much like adopted kindred Casseopea had known - adopted the poise of nonchalance, and much the same, Casseopea sought to do the same, making another note on vellum pages.*
*The question of weapon from their shorter distorted shadow did catch them slightly. To them, at least, this bug was unarmed save for a staff. But perhaps their could be good for playing along.*
*So, another moment before the yellow cloaked vessel folded the current work in progress, stashing it away in a satchel before slipping the war pick from their back and holding it just out of reach in a show of showing off. It was a deadly, brass coloured thing smelted from a thumbtack and metal rod, built more for function over form. With a paw, Casseopea spelled in trade sign once more.*
Pick. Sharp tip goes in shell. Swings down like mace.
*the smaller ghost looks.....disrespected, he walks closer* "my name is Grimmzr. I expect you best remember that." *the grimmchild opens its mouth, it looks...angery and the weaverling is prepared to pounce* "ahem I need no other weapon. this is all I need." *it hits the taller bug over the head with the flaming part of his staff, the Grimmchild spits a fireball the weaverling pounces*
*Casseopea should have expected, if not braced for the smack to the back of their head. And yet still, they had not expected the smaller bug to strike.*
¡¡ʍʍO
*That was a sound alright, a degraded squawk, simultaneously wet and gargled, yet sharp and staticky made from pain. A voided paw came up to feel around, the other still holding the war pick.*
*Three sharp eyes blinked all at once, once, twice. The Grimmchild hissed, the weaverling chittered. Casseopea took a moment, assessing.*
*And then with a grumble much like a growling roar of void, the taller vessel lunged, locking the smaller in a headlock, a paw snapped open and crackling with electricity close by.*
*No, the paw itself wasn't emitting it. No, this was a carefully built mechanism made for a hand held electrical pulse, now used and held up in warning.*
*With a bit of adjusting, Casseopea tried to maintain the headlocked, while trying to keep a hand free to sign, quick, almost indignant trade sign.*
Rude!
You're rude!
You asked to see
I showed you
You smack me
That's rude!
"forgive me, ahem...also forgive the smaller ones they just won't stop until i am let go." *the grimmchild spits once again, trying to get its caretaker free, the weaverling pounces hoping the same* *the smaller beings keep attacking to....minimal affect* "wait I asked for something? I feel wooooozy" *she smaller vessel falls asleep...or faints hard to tell*
And Lo, I inflict my vessel creature upon thee! Feel free to interact with any of yours, and welcome again to Pharloomblr!
----
*The mushroom capped caverns of the Fungal Wastes steamed from burbling pools of pale green acid, the woody thrum of sound echoing through the tunnels downward. Amblooms ambled along while funglings and fungoons drifted aimlessly, bouncing off purple round capped shrooms.*
*In a cavern close to the abandoned Queen's Station now rung silent stood a stocky figure in a yellow dandelion down cloak, a pale mask of shell true crowned by twisting rootlike horns was surveying the area. Indeed, surveying seemed the best word for it, given three dark eyes peered from three green tinted goggle lenses peered down at a sheet of vellum parchment over scribbles in what could be a passable map, were someone to squint.*
*For now, the figure remained still, sketching another few lines into parchment, yet not quite a relaxed still. Best to approach with caution after all.*
@mapmaker-vess0l
*Grimmzr approaches, so does the grimmchild that follows it, and a small weaverling the small child seems to be looking for...something. it sees the figure. and approches staff in hand* "...greetings." *the grimmchild stares....and so does the weaverling. the vessel seems....unhollowed. it has a eerie red light in its eyes. same color as most grimmtroupe colors* "what brings you here?"
*The stocky figure turned, voided eyes blinking in a wave of one, two, three. They had not expected to be approached, and to them, well, tis a third not quite mirror, this more twisted than the other two Casseopea had encountered. This doppelganger too, pale shell mask albiet spiderwebbed with cracks, four sharp jutting horns similar to Casseopea's own. Four eyes - two large and true, two smaller above them - aglow from within from unholy crimson light.*
*This, truly, from their bearing, how how they carry themselves, the cloak colouration and hissing creature of sulfur at their neck and call, this has to be truly one of those Grimm Fanatics of the death troupe Cass had heard of, but never seen. And this not quite mirror in front of them too, a little shorter than them, they looked like the other that Cass had seen come through with two spitting sulfur beasts on their shoulders, acting as their caretaker.*
*Casseopea was wary. They had learned to be wary, especially in places of danger, one voided paw hovering. Those grim creatures spoke flame, and small weaverlings - much as their past mentor Eiva - were still a quick and deadly bunch. The bug before them too spoke, rasping static tones, but speaking too.*
*And yet Casseopea was not one for the spoken word. Their hovering paw stilled before making motion, spelling out signs in careful, no nonsense dictation in simple trade hand.*
Mapping survey
Maps sell well.
*the smaller Vessel stares* "maps?. no use for maps when one has memorized their way" *the smaller being approches. it gets as close as possible. the grimmchild sniffs them, the child seems to not be...scared. quite the reverse* "what. are. you?" *it looks for the taller vessels weapon of choice reason is hard to tell* "what do you fight with?" *it keeps looking. the grimmchild seems weary*
*This not-quite-mirror was a lot more plain and talkative, that was for certain, and something Cass made a mental note of. Put it did mean not having to spend more mental energy to figure out how to converse. They blinked again, right, left, center, not quite still, but quite moving, just waiting, listening. The insult to cartography had been noted, but was not given a response.*
*The flame spitting beast was cautious, which meant to remain on edge lest it react. The weaverling - much like adopted kindred Casseopea had known - adopted the poise of nonchalance, and much the same, Casseopea sought to do the same, making another note on vellum pages.*
*The question of weapon from their shorter distorted shadow did catch them slightly. To them, at least, this bug was unarmed save for a staff. But perhaps their could be good for playing along.*
*So, another moment before the yellow cloaked vessel folded the current work in progress, stashing it away in a satchel before slipping the war pick from their back and holding it just out of reach in a show of showing off. It was a deadly, brass coloured thing smelted from a thumbtack and metal rod, built more for function over form. With a paw, Casseopea spelled in trade sign once more.*
Pick. Sharp tip goes in shell. Swings down like mace.
*the smaller ghost looks.....disrespected, he walks closer* "my name is Grimmzr. I expect you best remember that." *the grimmchild opens its mouth, it looks...angery and the weaverling is prepared to pounce* "ahem I need no other weapon. this is all I need." *it hits the taller bug over the head with the flaming part of his staff, the Grimmchild spits a fireball the weaverling pounces*
And Lo, I inflict my vessel creature upon thee! Feel free to interact with any of yours, and welcome again to Pharloomblr!
----
*The mushroom capped caverns of the Fungal Wastes steamed from burbling pools of pale green acid, the woody thrum of sound echoing through the tunnels downward. Amblooms ambled along while funglings and fungoons drifted aimlessly, bouncing off purple round capped shrooms.*
*In a cavern close to the abandoned Queen's Station now rung silent stood a stocky figure in a yellow dandelion down cloak, a pale mask of shell true crowned by twisting rootlike horns was surveying the area. Indeed, surveying seemed the best word for it, given three dark eyes peered from three green tinted goggle lenses peered down at a sheet of vellum parchment over scribbles in what could be a passable map, were someone to squint.*
*For now, the figure remained still, sketching another few lines into parchment, yet not quite a relaxed still. Best to approach with caution after all.*
@mapmaker-vess0l
*Grimmzr approaches, so does the grimmchild that follows it, and a small weaverling the small child seems to be looking for...something. it sees the figure. and approches staff in hand* "...greetings." *the grimmchild stares....and so does the weaverling. the vessel seems....unhollowed. it has a eerie red light in its eyes. same color as most grimmtroupe colors* "what brings you here?"
*The stocky figure turned, voided eyes blinking in a wave of one, two, three. They had not expected to be approached, and to them, well, tis a third not quite mirror, this more twisted than the other two Casseopea had encountered. This doppelganger too, pale shell mask albiet spiderwebbed with cracks, four sharp jutting horns similar to Casseopea's own. Four eyes - two large and true, two smaller above them - aglow from within from unholy crimson light.*
*This, truly, from their bearing, how how they carry themselves, the cloak colouration and hissing creature of sulfur at their neck and call, this has to be truly one of those Grimm Fanatics of the death troupe Cass had heard of, but never seen. And this not quite mirror in front of them too, a little shorter than them, they looked like the other that Cass had seen come through with two spitting sulfur beasts on their shoulders, acting as their caretaker.*
*Casseopea was wary. They had learned to be wary, especially in places of danger, one voided paw hovering. Those grim creatures spoke flame, and small weaverlings - much as their past mentor Eiva - were still a quick and deadly bunch. The bug before them too spoke, rasping static tones, but speaking too.*
*And yet Casseopea was not one for the spoken word. Their hovering paw stilled before making motion, spelling out signs in careful, no nonsense dictation in simple trade hand.*
Mapping survey
Maps sell well.
*the smaller Vessel stares* "maps?. no use for maps when one has memorized their way" *the smaller being approches. it gets as close as possible. the grimmchild sniffs them, the child seems to not be...scared. quite the reverse* "what. are. you?" *it looks for the taller vessels weapon of choice reason is hard to tell* "what do you fight with?" *it keeps looking. the grimmchild seems weary*
And Lo, I inflict my vessel creature upon thee! Feel free to interact with any of yours, and welcome again to Pharloomblr!
----
*The mushroom capped caverns of the Fungal Wastes steamed from burbling pools of pale green acid, the woody thrum of sound echoing through the tunnels downward. Amblooms ambled along while funglings and fungoons drifted aimlessly, bouncing off purple round capped shrooms.*
*In a cavern close to the abandoned Queen's Station now rung silent stood a stocky figure in a yellow dandelion down cloak, a pale mask of shell true crowned by twisting rootlike horns was surveying the area. Indeed, surveying seemed the best word for it, given three dark eyes peered from three green tinted goggle lenses peered down at a sheet of vellum parchment over scribbles in what could be a passable map, were someone to squint.*
*For now, the figure remained still, sketching another few lines into parchment, yet not quite a relaxed still. Best to approach with caution after all.*
@mapmaker-vess0l
*Grimmzr approaches, so does the grimmchild that follows it, and a small weaverling the small child seems to be looking for...something. it sees the figure. and approches staff in hand* "...greetings." *the grimmchild stares....and so does the weaverling. the vessel seems....unhollowed. it has a eerie red light in its eyes. same color as most grimmtroupe colors* "what brings you here?"
To all the vessels, what do you think of the Pale King?
Blkde: Father. I don't like Father. Radier: FRAUD FRAUD FRAUD FRAUD FRAUD FRAUD Shiey: Pale....King? who is a 'Pale....King'? Maszer: He outlawed me! hes a fuckin' prick. Grimmzr: *Eerie Silence*
To Brashy, what do you think of the Radiance?
...BaD GOD, BaD CReaTOR. *cough*
