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(I'M SORRY I WAS WORKING ON MY FIRST ART PLEASE FORGIVE ME)

 

"As of yet, I don't know. So far, I know it involves us to travel in some random direction. There doesn't seem to be any recognizable pattern I can see; the places seem to swap their positions in every cycle. Thank you."

 

Silas grabbed the book out of Shana's hand, and ruffled the pages, looking through the pages. He paused on the page with the two faded symbols, and continued sifting through the pages.

 

". . .Huh. Did you rip out the last page, miss- actually, I never caught your name, but regardless, did you?"

 

He folded the back covers away and showed Shana a rip line of papyrus.

Edited by Percival

(The place you actually arrive at is left all up to chance. Hope Lady Luck smiles upon you.)

 

"Yes, fine, pleasure to meet you alive. Still, it's quite worrying that the end is missing. I read a story about that once, actually; someone ended up getting stabbed with clock hands. Lovely story."

 

Silas looked off towards the distance.

 

"Well, I suppose I should be going if I don't want to die. Again. Believe it or not, knowing how you're going to die doesn't lessen the pain."

 

Silas began walking in a direction, his steps slow and deliberate.

Shana cocked an eyebrow. Everything Silas said was either confusing or somewhat disturbing, but, admididly, both him and the book had her intrigued. She cast a questioning glance at Dorian before following along behind, her footsteps never making a sound.

(Sorry, I was drawing a random doodle of our new merged form.

 

Also, luck as chosen which area we are going to. I have a question right now, though; should we do a time skip and have us at the campfire at night or have character exposition?)
 

 

(Delightful.

 

Of course, let me sneak in one character development trope in here.)

 

Silas looked behind him, and gave a small smirk as Shana began following him. It's nice that he isn't going to see a pile of shattered bones and flesh.

 

"So. How did you end up in this wonderful heaven? A deal with our puppeteer? A trap? Runic blood messages? Poking around in places you're not supposed to be? Enlighten me."

 

 

Dorian nodded, having heard Shana's tale before. "I killed someone." He took his bloody knife out again, to demonstrate. "I let his soul free. Nobody understood, so they sent the police at me... I could've had them beat, but something brought me here."

"Oh dear, he brought the ones with uninteresting pasts. Why can't he have variety?"

 

Silas cupped his hands up to his forehead in a dramatic flair, but quickly brought them back down, looking behind him as he talked.

 

"In normal ethics and seriousness, it's a tragedy, though personally I find those stories normal. So, you freed someone's soul? Assuming how you are holding a knife, it's either through blood thaumaturgy or plain cutting them open and extracting it. Excellent tropes in play."

 

Silas turned around and began walking backwards as he talked.

 

"So, you are one of the disabled he brings? Interesting. I'm assuming he didn't cheat you of your infernal prize, seeing as how you have perfect vision. Your curse is that you are a manipulator of course, but of what? Don't answer that, I want to be surprised."

 

Silas turned back around and began walking normally, his pace speeding up.

 

"As for me, well. . . I was an actor. Granted, I was an amatuer, but still an actor of sorts. Still am, technically, but, as you know, this place does absolute wonders for acting. I'm serious. Reliving the same world over and over is like memorizing your lines. Anyway, suffice it to say that I was forgetful in life, and absentmindedness doesn't mix well with a career that consists entirely of memorization. Now. . ."

 

Silas paused suddenly, lagging slightly behind the others.

 

". . .I actually can't remember much of that night. Must be my forgetfulness. I can only vaugely remember the fedora he wears."

 

He paused, holding onto his chin, but then shook his head an then began walking.

 

(I think you can guess where his dramatic flair comes from.)

"I stabbed him in the throat." Dorian stated. "And there isn't anything ethically wrong with setting free a depressed soul. At least, it shouldn't be." He looked at Silas, interested in what he had just said. "It must be boring to relive the world over and over."

"Aw, my backstory doesn't shed tears. I suppose that it isn't that exciting, however."

 

Silas spun around and looked at Shana, walking backwards again.

 

"To answer your question, dear Shana, I relive slight variations of this world. I will say it saddens me when I remeet people I remember fondly and they know nothing of me. Creates an awkward social wall, if you can comprehend the complications that arrive. That's typically why I pretend to not know the person sometimes. As for you-"

 

He gestured towards Dorian.

 

"-I'm not going to lie when I say that you become desensetized to death and corpses when you see them million of times."

 

He turned back around and began walking again.

I shall join, though I have school so I might miss a turn or two.

Name: Francis Marshall Oberfell (Also known as FMO)

Age: 12

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Backstory: Before the whole island shizafriz, Francis lived in a small, detached, but relatively well-off town in Nunavut, which was home to a quite large chemical laboratory which had a very extensive and controversial relationship with the town's inhabitants. Like all chemical laboratories, it exploded due to a "mysterious" accident and rained down heck upon the entirety of the town, excluding Francis, as he had the thought/very convenient but not at all suspicious placement to put on a gas mask. After a few weeks of looting various stores and corpses, he found another survivor, a shadowy, nervous man. who said he could help bring back the entire town if FMO helped him. Then a load of information filled his brain and he blacked out.

P.s. You've probably figured it out, but there is a sizeable chunk of the story I'm saving for you find out. If you're searching for it in the first place.

Abilities

Advanced Asthmatics

Francis can make anything that burns into a type of chemical warfare, ranging from neurotoxin to tear gas to helium, depending on the item. List below.

Logs, Pinecones, Charcoal - Smoke, good for suffocation

Monster meat, Nightmare Fuel, Living Logs - Neurotoxin, lowers sanity

Jet feather, Most meats - Sleep gas, KOs people for a bit

Redbird feather - An extremely flammable gas

Light Bulb or Tentacle spots - Helium, not good for anything in particular

Rot, Manure, Nitre (The latter being quite dangerous) - Tear gas, obscures vision

Gotta go fyast

FMO is marginally faster than the average person. At least fast enough to eventually outrun someone.

Appearance: Francis is a tall, wiry boy with extremely pale skin, messy yellow hair and a grey sweater. ALSO HE'S COVERED IN SCARS.

Personality: Laid back, though somewhat awkward at the same time

Inventory

  • Gas Mask
  • Metal Water Bottle
Side Notes: Due to the whole "dead town" thing, he is locked in a state of near-infinite immaturity because reasons and can't stop making jokes to save his life. Unless he is in a situation where stopping making jokes would save his life. It'll still factor in to him making bad decisions, though.

Also, if any of his scars get cut open. he'll be thrown into extreme pain.

Edited by KidneyBeanBoy

(*sigh* Why does everyone pick THIS thread to make joke charaters?)

Shana shuddered at the though of seeing so many dead.

"Do you know either of us? I could suppose that you didn't know us previously because you asked of our past, but you yourself said you sometimes act like you don't know someone."

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