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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
yourplayersaidwhat

I curl up inside the egg..?

yourplayersaidwhat

So I was playing a loosely ruled game based on dark souls and we had arrived at the nest of a giant crow. Now, all the others players had played dark souls except me, so they knew what to do & decided to let me have a crack.

Now, I was a pyromaniac so I had pretty much just thrown fire at everything we’d faced up to this point, so:

DM: The crow flies away, what do you do?

Me: I observe the eggs

DM: They look about the same size as a human curled up

Me, (oblivious to the hint): I crack open an egg and curl up inside?

Everyone else starts cracking up and screaming ‘why?’ at this point

DM: an unborn crow falls out - the inside is warm, nothing happens

Me: I get out and try to cook the other egg

Everyone stares at me at this point, unbelieving

DM: You cook the eggs just as the crow comes back. It looks sadly at its murdered children and looks forlorn, letting out a sad cry

The Dwarf Paladin: Jesus I curl up in the nest

I then realise my mistake and attempt to uncool the eggs

The crow eventually took us to the next area, but I feel like I should have been punished more for this

inescapable-thought

@julahshit

The desolate abyss: seeing is believing.

“The entrance to one’s mind seems to be guarded and protected by the endless possibilities of both poverty and royalty, a deep mixture of life and death. While the shadows that dwell within seem to cascade into a sinkhole of souls and agony, a faint voice can be heard. Almost as if a soft echo trying to pierce the veil of secrecy. Though, this may only be my mind, I have yet to find the right transgressions in order to omit the rest of the world.” Soft and subtle words flowing gently from the lips of the beast known only as /The Dictator./ while the ashen creature had found life through many means, the simplicity of death had escaped time after time. A reoccurring obsession to find a cure to the putrid curse of mortality. In the tender and delicate hands of this /self promoted/ GOD, anything seemed possible. From the towering city, glass and stone mixed to form foundations and creation, to the small drones that patrolled the vast roads. Lights flickered just outside the window. The clink of metal against glass softly echoed out as this dictator gazed out, unto the beings and world that it had devised and manifested. “Purify the damned. I had been told I would never hold a title as close to God. But here I stand, miles above heaven and I tower above all creation. Though my mind seems to falter when I try to understand their individually.” A remark to the ever shifting city of technology. A faint glow that could be seen miles outside the dwelling. Almost as if a safe haven or a beacon of despair, it all seemed to depend on perspective. While some called the “Creator” a savoir, a being of true power, an unstoppable sovereign force. Others though had named this figure of Lydian culture a “Monster” or more commonly known as “The Dictator.” Poverty ran through all worlds regardless of power or structure, no one person could fix that. Suddenly the world became dark and the mind went blank…. The last moments of life seemed to drain as the host fell to the ground, the metallic flooring giving an aggressive and forceful stop along with a loud thud. The Dictator lay with a wide smirk, almost as if escaping death was no longer a gift. Scattered across the floor and parts of the white paneling on the walls had been the Dictators blood, along with the side of the androgynous beings skull. Fragments falling across tables, and scattering. “Even death holds no power over a God…” Vibrant and vapid, virtually all victims fell to the vacancy of souls. Curtains fall, the crowd cheers and roars as the scene ends.

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Originally posted by nina-insomnia

personal rant idea illustration novelist