Dizzy00

in the land of fortnight where salty tryhards and nooby no skins and tons of raging kids a warrior will rise known only as the red night

Cool that's 2 ppl, then

The mouse smiled. Often, humans worried about animal-types walking around barefoot. What about he splinters? The rocks? et cetera. But the reality of the situation was that the pads on her feet were as strong as rubber soles. The heavily callused feet assured that she never felt the rocks or woods she might step on. Paws made it impossible to keep the floor clean. The folds where skin met skin created crannies that collected mud and pebbles they scratched floors and browned carpets. Wrapping talons in cloth kept this mess from occurring. The children would stop at the place mat at the burrow and remove the rags from their feet before dinner. It was also slightly more socially acceptable than baring the rough, hairy and often scaly hind legs in a human setting. The mouse waved her hand away at the girl's concern. " Its no bother, except for the dirt." She picked up the pastry in a lady-like manner using the tips of her fingers to avoid any stains. She blew the oozing jam. It cooled instantly against her breath forming a layer of skin. She nibbled the edge and smiled. A shy little grin of a smile she covered with the tip of her hand. Even now , in her late age, as specks of white littered her coat, she had preserved that girlish charm that had snagged Howie.

I'm intrested in whatever might happen here. If we are throwing suggestions around, can we maybe do an RP where we are the bad guys? Or something where we have to talk to each other to create the story?

Good to hear!

Meredith was a Small country mouse. She had garnered attention down south for her lively and often profound articles at the local paper. This is how she had come to know Eridias Drew, the big-shot newspaper executive who'd read her article about the Winter-time festivities in Lisa, her hometown. Meredith had never dreamed of writing for anything larger than the local tabloid. Not that she wanted to travel to the city. No. she was content at home, with her babies and Howie. Then Howie got sick. Something about a bug and an immune deficiency causing havoc on his muscle tissue. Nothing Meredith would pretend to comprehend. She mailed Eridias Drew a letter accepting the job offer in the city. Her mother would care for the family for as long as it took. Meredith kissed her husband and children goodbye and took a cabbie west as far as it would go. After the ride had reached its limits, she had trudged through as far as her feet dragged her, amazed by thee sights and homesick simultaneously. Her long trip west wore her down, so on the third day of walking, when she found the Corner Cafe, she hopped in thankful for the well-deserved pit stop. " It's Beautiful..." she whispered pressing the carpet bag with the broken hinge against her pudgy stomach. The luxuries of the cafe, the frilled curtains and the round pillows strewn about casually, were unlike anything Lisa provided. Even if it could, nobody there would have the imagination to decorate like this. Meredith caught whiff of blackberry jam. It made her stomach growl and her whiskers twitch. " I don't usually indulge, but I've been traveling so long!'' she sighed. "So if you don't mind, I would like a cup of coffee with lots of cream and lots of sugar." she smelled the pastries "And a raspberry Danish."

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A few more things 1) The old stuff will probably be deleted after everyone is on board with the new thread 2) I don't think I have a reason to PM anyone as of now 3) Pickled you are up

Hello Guys I created a new Quest of Babdol to comply With The TOL rules. Here You'll find a link to the new site: I also copy and pasted the last bits of the story. So hop on over, this should be fun.

Carol was still a little skeptical about the journey, but was determined to return alive. She gripped her reins with a strength that wasn't based off her muscle, but her will to arrive to the destination. Carol sighed, and followed behind the small group of horses. She drew a small smile, eager to step away from that tavern for once. Vince watched as the party moved about. They mounted their chosen horses and were set on a journey towards Babdol. Vince himself rode a mongolian horse with sleek, brown mane. He clumsily held the reins, showing his inexperience in handling horses. He sometimes steered away from the group while they moved on. But he always came back with a steadier grip over his mount's reins. "I'd never thought that riding a pony would be this hard." He spoke out to the group. Iani rode at the head of the procession, checking his compass periodically. The device pointed him in a crow's flight to his objective, but he didn't much feel like trekking cross-country through hill and dale. That was a surefire way to end up stuck in a box canyon or on the wrong side of a swamp, he'd learned. In spite of the meandering nature of the wide, rutted dirt roads, sticking to the path for as long as possible was usually the fastest way to get somewhere. He chatted constantly as the rode; mostly to his goat, and occasionally to his horse, who he seemed to mistrust. "Nothing personal," he explained to the horse, "I was double-crossed by a horse once. Makes me cautious." No further details were given; instead he started singing a lewd travelling ditty about a road-weary prostitute and her talking donkey. The road wound upwards into a country of grassy, rolling hills, sparesly populated with thin trees. They passed a shepherd with his flock of sheep; Iani waved cheerfully at him as they passed, oblivious to his confused and suspicious stare. The day was bright, the breeze was cool, and the sun was warm. Everything was look perfectly rosy. The trail took a hard curve and cut through a narrow draw between two rows of steep hills. A few hundred yards up ahead the faint outline of a downed tree could be seen laying across the path. Iani reined his horse to a stop and squinted, peering at the obstacle. "Hmm. A roadblock in a place that's easy to ambush from the high ground. Seems legit," he laughed. "I think we've got ourselves some filthy bandits over yonder. We wanna ride up like heroes and give 'em the old what-for, or backtrack the way we came and lose an hour or two tromping over the hills?" He seemed to be addressing the goat. The horse didn't get a say. He didn't trust the horse. Tsidia's body waved from one side to another. If she wasn't holding her horse with whole body, she'd get thrown off like a kite. Tsidia bent her hinds down on the animal's rear. She reached forward with her paws. The dragoness made sure not to claw through the skin. The ness rushed forward in a sudden pull. She settled down like a cat resting on the couch. Her tail unwound and slapped over the animal's rump. As the horse kicked up, she dashed to its front and then... the leap. Tsidia spread her wings. For a few moments, she was swimming through the air. Her body bobbed up and down like an eastern noodle before she stabilized her flight. The dragoness took a deep breath. She rolled over to make a barrel, feeling the wind brush over her scales. The dragoness gained fair altitude fast. Her horse stayed below, the two knowing what each other had in mind. If hard terrain came to pass, she could map it out from above. Then, she'd land on her horse, stir it the optimal way and take flight again. This guidance continued until she found herself in a crack. If she stayed careful, Tsidia could keep up the narrow flight. Instead, she lowered herself. The dragoness folded her wings, crashing down in a dive. About 10m before impact, she opened them slightly. Enough to start cancelling momentum. With the right timing, she would grab onto her horse once their speeds were similar. The Dragoness soared over the aspen trees laced with ice and snow, as Iani slowed down. The Zombie stared ahead and spotted it too. A log lay in the way a few miles away. She felt her gut wrench in terrible instinct as her party approached. Iani, too busy chatting with his goat- was that correct? Yes-talking to his goat, was too distracted too stop them. She dismounted her dapple and barred the path. Then with a gist of her fingers and a warning look she conjured an imploding cloud of smoke to prevent the travelers from continuing.

Overview: In the outskirts of Stormward, a Zombie, accompanied by a band of adventurous travelers, attempts to reconnect the mystery and events surrounding her death and past as an evil foe traces her every step.

Pickled you're up