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"A͟ww,̧ ́CO̢M̢E ̴ON, ҉M̡i̸st̢ar̕ia̸. I b̷are͏l̷y ̀g͏o̴t̵ ̧s̕t҉a͠rtèd!"  Vilsig complains.  "B̧a͜h͞,͜ ̧ẁh͜ateve̸r.͡ A͟t ͝le͏a͘st̴ I ͏ca͢n sh̸ed͡ ́t̡h͝i̴s͜ ͘i͞d̷i̷ot͟i̢c ̛th̛r͘ee-ye̷a͞r-ol̢d p̷e͏r̡şonal͏i͠t̨y.̴"  His body starts to change again; his legs pull back into his head with a disgusting slurping sound, and a pillar of black goo grows beneath him, lifting him up to be even taller than Mistaria.  The column grows two long, spindly arms, with three joints and five skeletal fingers.  His entire body is covered in that strange, transparent film, which he tears off and casts aside. 

 

"I w̴as͘ ͞g̸ett̷ing ̡sick of ̷be͏in͘g͏ a ̧m̧ưs̛i̢c not̶é.͡ "  He says, looming over two feet above his kidnapper.

"And therein lies the problem, Vilsig! You were getting started! On Lefay. I thought I made it crystal clear to keep your eyes off of her as far as sustenance was concerned. I gave you a warning, now i'm TELLING YOU: Stay away from Lefay. Avoid her. OR ELSE. Is that PERFECTLY CLEAR?"

 

Mistaria looked up into Vilsig's eyes, not even slightly phazed by his size.

Edited by Silentdarkness1

Vilsig laughs.  "Lef͟ay̴ '͢lef̶t͏', ͢r҉em̕e͘mber̢? ͝I͏t̴'̡s not͜ ͠m̨y͜ fau̵lt s̢h҉e d̶e̡ci͡d͘e̸d t͘o̧ ͜c̶o̶m̷e ͜b̡ac̀k̀ r̛i͏ght͏ ͘i̵n͝ ţhe ̢m͘iddlę o̴f my̢ ҉s͘chȩm͝in̨g̢.̀"  He retorts.  He pauses, then sighs.  "I'm s̛orry,͝ I͡.͘..I und́erst͟a͟nd͏ ͝why ͡you̸ ҉n̴eed ̢her i̸n pȩak̨ ҉men̛t̢a̕l co͘n̛d͜it͜i͜o̕n. ̷ I̢t̶'҉s ju̢s͝t...͢be̶ing͡ ̀st͢ra͟nded͢ und͏er͝gr͏oun̕d ͏f̀o͜r͡ ͜s̢o,́ s͟o l̷o̴n͟g ҉wi҉th҉out a͘n̶yth҉ing ͏t͞o҉ok҉ i͟ts͡ ţo̕l͘l͏ on me̢."

"...........Hmph..............perhaps..............perhaps. The world is far bigger than that camp, however. I cannot risk you causing damage to her. You should leave. Eke out your own living. There are more than enough other creatures inhabiting this world to keep your basic needs satiated."

Vilsig thinks for a bit.  "I think...I think I will."  He decides.  "Thanks for the help."

 

He turns away from Mistaria, and walks away, heading in the opposite direction of camp and off into new lands.

 

(Okay, Blew, you're in charge of what he finds.)

 

 

(DARN CRAP BOLLOCKS WANKER DAMMIT SCREW IT FOR GODS SAKE SOUNDPROOFING PROJECTS BAKLAV GERMANY PUMPERNICKEL BLOOMERS IM SORRY MENA AND ALL THAT)

 

She felt her grip loosening on the pages, her burning fingers pleading to let go. Corthias wouldn't hold on for long; she needs to make the most of it.

 

"First off, I'd like to thank you for the hospitality. Second, for the benefit of your health and general living state, I'd ask you to move, quickly."

 

Corthias opened the cover of the pages, fanning the pages towards the hounds. The smell of sulfur filled the air, and Corthias winced as flames flew past the tips of her fingers, exposing raw red underneath. The awesome display (in the Biblical sense of the word, which is terrifying) that followed would be hard to describe, but the best way to describe it would be like so; flames of various colors seemed to seethe from between the pages, bursting and shifting between colors, alien to the orange of our natural flames. If one were to look past the brightness of the flames, they would see the pages writhing in strips, not quite bound to the cover, as if it was alive. Bursts of flames spewed from the cover, aiming for random targets; a reddish-violet tongue of fire snaked towards Woodie before dissipating (thankfully), a bright green fire seemed to be rolling towards one of the Vargs, a blue flame curled around Corthias' finger, searing into his skin. It was chaos, but it was certainly effective. Flames began sticking to the Varg's thick fur, and it was beginning to sear into the creature.

 

(APOLOGIES JUST POSTING WHAT COMES TO MIND)

(DARN CRAP BOLLOCKS WANKER DAMMIT SCREW IT FOR GODS SAKE SOUNDPROOFING PROJECTS BAKLAV GERMANY PUMPERNICKEL BLOOMERS IM SORRY MENA AND ALL THAT)

(Such lnanguage!)

 

"A decoration? A giant black music note with a face would be a pretty odd decoration. I guess it could be used in like a music themed Halloween decorating thingy or something. I don't even know what I'm saying."

  • Like 1

(I mean, how fast is Vilsig traveling? I would think it would take him a while to find something new.)

Vilsig's traveling led him through the forest, and various critters moved in and out of the trees around him.

Alex frowned. "I wonder where he's going..."

As the Varg was lit ablaze, it yelped in surprise, then in agony. It attempted to "stop, drop, and roll" in an effort to put out the flames, but it didn't seem to do much. It let out a blood curling screech as its fur seared and its skin melted. The hounds that didn't get ignited to face the same fate ran off, yipping in terror.

(He's traveling very fast.  And the plot needs a defibrillator.)

 

Vilsig sprints along, his bizarre doglike legs carrying him over every obstacle in his way.  Since he cannot fatigue and has no need for food or rest, he covers a vast distance in a short period of time.

(Oh, come on. I gave you hounds, there's a new character again, what more do you people want from me?)

It was not long until Vilsig could make out a small house-like structure in the horizon. And then another one. And then a few more. Soon enough, he could make out people, as well. Not many, but they were certainly present.

(I DON'T WANT YOUR SAS MENA

 

It really has been 35 pages already, huh? Damn. Time to Throw something together on a whim execute this plan that I have been brewing for a very very long time and I have been thinking it through so much and am not ad libbing right now.)

 

Tiresias moved towards the center of the group. "Okay, folks! Let's get ready to get moving!" 

 

Alex frowned, looking around. He certainly didn't feel the need to go anywhere...

  • Like 2

(*sassy pose activate*)

 

"ROAD TRIP!" Mina proclaimed with her arms in the air. She zoomed around the camp, scooping up what meager supplies they had and shoving them in her pockets. "Man, I am loving these tardis pockets." she observed as she paused for a brief moment on her collecting spree.

Edited by MenaAthena

(Corthias, uh, your fingers are getting kind of dead.)

 

Corthias felt her fingers loosen, and she let go of the book, rubbing her fingers, which was colored a strange shade of reddish-purple; the pages fluttered wildly, spewing and sputtering with flames, before she kicked the cover over, stamping it down on the pages; immediately, the flames shut, but she could feel the heat through her shoes (which was, thankfully, cool enough to bear).

 

"God, I hate this journal! The hobgoblins of the little mind, placed on paper!"

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