Hello! Here is how you play!
- 🎲 Roll a D20
- 🎲 Roll a D6
- Select Edit Post.
- Write what happens to your character according to the dice rolls.
- The best post gets a Rainbow Phoenix!
- Any Length allowed!
- Deadline: Sept 20th, 1 AM EST - You may only post once.
No anonymous character accounts.
- Prize: Rainbow Phoenix
- 🎲 D20 = How well they did the action!
- 🎲 D6 = what situation they're currently in!
Situations:
🎲 1 = Flirting!
🎲 2 = Parenting!
🎲 3 = Baking/Cooking!
🎲 4 = Dancing!
🎲 5 = Lying!
🎲 6 = Cross dressing!
(These will be rotated around to new topics as this goes on to keep things interesting)
I'm hoping to get some whacky answers from this!
- 🎲 Roll a D20
- 🎲 Roll a D6
- Select Edit Post.
- Write what happens to your character according to the dice rolls.
- The best post gets a Rainbow Phoenix!
- Any Length allowed!
- Deadline: Sept 20th, 1 AM EST - You may only post once.
No anonymous character accounts.
- Prize: Rainbow Phoenix
- 🎲 D20 = How well they did the action!
- 🎲 D6 = what situation they're currently in!
Situations:
🎲 1 = Flirting!
🎲 2 = Parenting!
🎲 3 = Baking/Cooking!
🎲 4 = Dancing!
🎲 5 = Lying!
🎲 6 = Cross dressing!
(These will be rotated around to new topics as this goes on to keep things interesting)
I'm hoping to get some whacky answers from this!
For reason only themselves could understand, another hypercosmic entity decided to tear existence apart for their own obscure reasons, many of them for waging war to other equally powerful beings. However, some of those beings, just wanted to see their 'children' suffer as much chaos in the littlest amount of time they could. Their journeys and quests, be them for fortune, justice or merely bloodshed, would immediately stop in its tracks, for whatever their masters wanted.
Or needed, for that time.
Yours truly, the Captain of the Kingsbane, Wanheed Nabil Mustafa of Eaudeios wasn't taking any of that shit, though: Right between the cross between realities, a certain structure floated in the nothingness, right amidst the bubble, donut and tesseract shaped universes stood, nigh crashing on each other. For some reason, its name coincided with a mythical - or not - creature originated from the collective thought of little creatures that called themselves homo sapiens. It was the Winning Phoenix. It was, for the lack of better wording, a restaurant at the end of the universe. And the most sensible thing a spacefaring captain with his, and their crew, bellies growling louder than the roars of a herd of Lucian Desert Behemoths in heat, was to dock his rocket.
A captain with tattered uniform, a senile scientist, a construct with many arms attached to it, an intimidating, towering creature of draconian appearance stained blood red and clad in back, a masked hitman and a brigand girl walk into a bar. Even though the nature of this space-temporal anomaly implied creatures words could not describe also drank and ate at that same bar, the 'gang', which more like they resembled, was skilled in networking. And, soon, after stuffing themselves with sentient aware and satisfied they were going to be chopped and eaten, all of them were getting wasted.
"'Gemme 'da 'strangth'est pin'apple RUM!"
"What's a 'pin' apple, Sir?" - One mouth replied.
"Something light, please."
"Understood, Sir. One Hydrogen Refresher right away." - It's third brain psychically suggested.
"This unit does not need hydration of any form. Coolant is always required."
"Very well." - A block of solid ice materialized around the robot and immediately melted, which prompted a monotome: "Thank you."
"I, um, I think I will have pineapple rum, too!"
"Ah, of course, pineapple." - Two pseudopods descended from the ceiling and delivered the draconian and the captain mugs full of the stuff.
"X1889 Bourbon. Uh, my era."
"Right away, Sir." - The alien creatures around completely overshadowed the abomination the masked assassin was under his mask.
"'Gimme a cold one, chief!"
"Sure." - And the blonde lady was the only one to ask for something boring, when she could ask for the nectar of gods in this place.
No amount of cybernetic implants could keep the Captain from being absolutely wrecked after downing his fifth bottle of rum. But who could blame the old man? It was the best pineapple rum he was thrown at. On his third bottle, his screams were already starting to cause a widespread commotion, at his fourth bottle, a group of space pirates of all sizes, colors, shapes and states of matter joined the bellowing, enamored by this mating call - which sounded the most like - being spout out in deafening roars from the Captain's lips, along with the stench of fermented citrus.
At the fifth bottle, however, it was becoming apparent that he and his crew weren't coming alive from this one. And the solution thought up by the Kingsbane Crew stole the semi-permanent smirk of the girl and transferred it to the senile scientist. Reluctant at first, the masked hitman was paid enough for the risk of touching the Captain and proceeded to restrain him from behind. The draconian, still very, very sober after her fifth bottle, gathered her inner strength and courage to dare to hold the Captain's legs. The girl pulled out her rusty, contaminated scalpel and had her way with the wasted captain.
Amidst the wails of horror of a once proud spacefaring privateer, the battle cries of creatures from all planes of existence joined the cackling - save from the masked man and the dragon. The blue eyes of the captain could only watch in horror as the thick mane around his belly was shaved smooth clean of any hairs by his third most trusted subordinate. Meanwhile, the robot threatening to drill a hole in the head(s) of anyone that even thought of touching his hat.
At least two from the group passed out from their drinking rampage after the ordeal was done. But everyone benefited from it.
Wong, the brigand girl, had the most fun she had - or will ever have - in the short span of her life.
Revenant, the masked hitman, got a hundred thousand credits for restraining the Captain.
Ilia, the terrifying, towering draconian with the strength of four men, would be able to spit fire for at least a month straight.
Severin, the scientist, could use the recorded footage of such humiliation as blackmail and...
The almighty Wanheed learned the valuable lesson of never singing drunk ever again.
Or needed, for that time.
Yours truly, the Captain of the Kingsbane, Wanheed Nabil Mustafa of Eaudeios wasn't taking any of that shit, though: Right between the cross between realities, a certain structure floated in the nothingness, right amidst the bubble, donut and tesseract shaped universes stood, nigh crashing on each other. For some reason, its name coincided with a mythical - or not - creature originated from the collective thought of little creatures that called themselves homo sapiens. It was the Winning Phoenix. It was, for the lack of better wording, a restaurant at the end of the universe. And the most sensible thing a spacefaring captain with his, and their crew, bellies growling louder than the roars of a herd of Lucian Desert Behemoths in heat, was to dock his rocket.
A captain with tattered uniform, a senile scientist, a construct with many arms attached to it, an intimidating, towering creature of draconian appearance stained blood red and clad in back, a masked hitman and a brigand girl walk into a bar. Even though the nature of this space-temporal anomaly implied creatures words could not describe also drank and ate at that same bar, the 'gang', which more like they resembled, was skilled in networking. And, soon, after stuffing themselves with sentient aware and satisfied they were going to be chopped and eaten, all of them were getting wasted.
"'Gemme 'da 'strangth'est pin'apple RUM!"
"What's a 'pin' apple, Sir?" - One mouth replied.
"Something light, please."
"Understood, Sir. One Hydrogen Refresher right away." - It's third brain psychically suggested.
"This unit does not need hydration of any form. Coolant is always required."
"Very well." - A block of solid ice materialized around the robot and immediately melted, which prompted a monotome: "Thank you."
"I, um, I think I will have pineapple rum, too!"
"Ah, of course, pineapple." - Two pseudopods descended from the ceiling and delivered the draconian and the captain mugs full of the stuff.
"X1889 Bourbon. Uh, my era."
"Right away, Sir." - The alien creatures around completely overshadowed the abomination the masked assassin was under his mask.
"'Gimme a cold one, chief!"
"Sure." - And the blonde lady was the only one to ask for something boring, when she could ask for the nectar of gods in this place.
No amount of cybernetic implants could keep the Captain from being absolutely wrecked after downing his fifth bottle of rum. But who could blame the old man? It was the best pineapple rum he was thrown at. On his third bottle, his screams were already starting to cause a widespread commotion, at his fourth bottle, a group of space pirates of all sizes, colors, shapes and states of matter joined the bellowing, enamored by this mating call - which sounded the most like - being spout out in deafening roars from the Captain's lips, along with the stench of fermented citrus.
At the fifth bottle, however, it was becoming apparent that he and his crew weren't coming alive from this one. And the solution thought up by the Kingsbane Crew stole the semi-permanent smirk of the girl and transferred it to the senile scientist. Reluctant at first, the masked hitman was paid enough for the risk of touching the Captain and proceeded to restrain him from behind. The draconian, still very, very sober after her fifth bottle, gathered her inner strength and courage to dare to hold the Captain's legs. The girl pulled out her rusty, contaminated scalpel and had her way with the wasted captain.
Amidst the wails of horror of a once proud spacefaring privateer, the battle cries of creatures from all planes of existence joined the cackling - save from the masked man and the dragon. The blue eyes of the captain could only watch in horror as the thick mane around his belly was shaved smooth clean of any hairs by his third most trusted subordinate. Meanwhile, the robot threatening to drill a hole in the head(s) of anyone that even thought of touching his hat.
At least two from the group passed out from their drinking rampage after the ordeal was done. But everyone benefited from it.
Wong, the brigand girl, had the most fun she had - or will ever have - in the short span of her life.
Revenant, the masked hitman, got a hundred thousand credits for restraining the Captain.
Ilia, the terrifying, towering draconian with the strength of four men, would be able to spit fire for at least a month straight.
Severin, the scientist, could use the recorded footage of such humiliation as blackmail and...
The almighty Wanheed learned the valuable lesson of never singing drunk ever again.
rolled 1d6 and got 4
rolled 1d20 and got 7
Rivka's Karaoke Debut
Despite its name, The Tin Troll Inn seemed to have no trolls in the gathered crowd. Mostly humans, a few elves, a shadowy tiefling lingering in the back, but not a single troll. The only green skinned thing in the whole place was Rivka.
The goblin looked wide eyed at the human that had a tight grasp on her arm, practically dragging her toward the stage, then back to the band of musicians that were playing.
“Well, get on up there,” he said, an amused smirk playing on his face at the obvious discomfort of the little snot-nosed bugger that had somehow weaseled her way into their adventuring party. Just cause she had some skill healing wounds, their fearless (or perhaps idiot) leader seemed to think it worth the risk to allow a freakin’ goblin to tag along with them.
“Rivka not a bard!” The goblin protested again in a harsh whisper
But he lifted her and simply set her upon the stage while the crowd quieted to see a goblin swaying from foot to foot, looking like she might pass out.
Her human “friend” backed away and made a gesture mimicking a knife being slid across his throat, then pointed at her.
"Humies have a little..." Rivka started, her voice cracking terribly as she struggled to remember one of the few songs she knew.
A few snickers came from the drunk crowd. Her companions got into place. She managed a few lines, just loud enough to be heard by those sitting close to the stage and not at all in sync with the melody from the instruments.
Humies have a little town!
We will burn it, burn it down!
Burn it down! Burn it down!
Burn it down into the ground!
Some of the snickers turned into less-than-amused glares.
Kill the people!
Slay their beasts!
Take their things!
Eat their meats!
Her screechy voice grew quieter as a few of the humans set down their mugs of ale, hands going to their weapons.
Feast until you’ve had your fill
Of the corpses goblins killed!
Search the pockets
Steal their stuff!
Goblins never get enough!
The music petered out behind her, her voice growing so quiet and strained as a few men stood up and she took a nervous step backwards.
Have some mercy
Kill them first!
When the humies start to fight
Stick the goodies in a sack!
Disappear into the night
Silly humies, we'll be back!
The last of her courage faltered and she screeched, darting from the stage, followed by several men. But meanwhile, her human companions had at least successfully picked the pockets of enough drunk fools to buy them safe passage to the next town...
rolled 1d6 and got 4
Situation
rolled 1d20 and got 4
Skillz
Oh jeezzzz....Er. give me a bit to think. 
rolled 1d6 and got 6
Oh dear
rolled 1d20 and got 9
Bigger oh dear
hmm
Edit:
Shape shifting, at a 16 success!
Cleone's frustration practically poured from her soul. Tears stinging at her eyes as she looked upon whom had betrayed her. The already feline like ears upon her head twitched in her emotion. Suddenly the curves of her face morphed into something far more beast like than the feline humanoid figure before them. Though pain flitted through her body, she still managed the change.
Her fingers turned to paws, she could feel the ache in her spine and joints as her body changed. A guttural growl and hiss escaped her stomach up her throat, out of what had been lips but was now a mouth with sharp teeth. Gaze locked on her betrayer.
It was time to hunt.
Edit:
Shape shifting, at a 16 success!
Cleone's frustration practically poured from her soul. Tears stinging at her eyes as she looked upon whom had betrayed her. The already feline like ears upon her head twitched in her emotion. Suddenly the curves of her face morphed into something far more beast like than the feline humanoid figure before them. Though pain flitted through her body, she still managed the change.
Her fingers turned to paws, she could feel the ache in her spine and joints as her body changed. A guttural growl and hiss escaped her stomach up her throat, out of what had been lips but was now a mouth with sharp teeth. Gaze locked on her betrayer.
It was time to hunt.
rolled 1d20 and got 16
rolled 1d6 and got 3
(( Well, blue is my favorite color, but more than that this just feels like a fun exercise. I'll roll, then edit this post when I get the opportunity. ))
(( Edit: Dragon Taming 5/20. Heheheh ))
Gaia needs a drink. She needs more than one drink. She needs many drinks. How many drinks does this tavern keep in stock? She's definitely going to need them all.
"C'mon, ye scaley rascal! This way. Tha's it. Jus' a lil' further now." The stocky dwarf warrioress danced around the edges of the magical creature's cave. Her shield was up and her axe was out, but that doesn't mean she was planning on having to use either of them. Yet. This stupid thing is the tiniest, most pathetic looking dragon she's ever seen in her near century in the god's deep earth. In fact, it's just the right size for...
"Scrummy! Ale!" Scrummy the Goblin skitters toward the bar, but before he can get behind the relative safety of the counter the backside of his head is suddenly met by an improvised projectile. The shoe's leather is charred and the sole is literally nonexistant but that doesn't mean it can't still be thrown with enough force to take the little green waiter off his feet. "Don' ye bother with none o' tha puny pint glasses neither, giblets fer brains! Jus' bring me th' bloody casket!"
"Ahahaha! Aye got ye now, Tiny! Ye kinnae shake a Stromgaia that easily!" The floor of the cave was littered with many things. Bones. Coins. Gems. Ash. And now it also provided a craggy resting place for an lovingly polished mithril shield and a much older, battle worn axe. Several feet above the ground, gripping her belt tightly, Gaia whooped as she clung to the back of a vigorously bucking dragon.
Gaia sits with her newly hairless head dunked deep within a casket of Bonzebottom Bitters furiously pondering the life choices that led her to this point. Gambling? Check. Unsubstantiated rumor? Check. Dare? Check. Hubris? Double check.
"Aw, c'mon now! Ye kinnae take a joke! 'M jokin'! 'S a joke!" Fire scorched everything. Rock. Coins. The handle of her axe was toast. The shield survived, but it would need a severe polishing. None of Gaia's clothes beneath her armor were spared though. Her beard? Gone. Mama dragon was not amused...
The part that stings the most is that she can't even blame it on alcohol. This time. There are many, many things that she can blame on alcohol. It would be so nice if this could be one of them. Oh well. Next time.
(( Edit: Dragon Taming 5/20. Heheheh ))
Gaia needs a drink. She needs more than one drink. She needs many drinks. How many drinks does this tavern keep in stock? She's definitely going to need them all.
"C'mon, ye scaley rascal! This way. Tha's it. Jus' a lil' further now." The stocky dwarf warrioress danced around the edges of the magical creature's cave. Her shield was up and her axe was out, but that doesn't mean she was planning on having to use either of them. Yet. This stupid thing is the tiniest, most pathetic looking dragon she's ever seen in her near century in the god's deep earth. In fact, it's just the right size for...
"Scrummy! Ale!" Scrummy the Goblin skitters toward the bar, but before he can get behind the relative safety of the counter the backside of his head is suddenly met by an improvised projectile. The shoe's leather is charred and the sole is literally nonexistant but that doesn't mean it can't still be thrown with enough force to take the little green waiter off his feet. "Don' ye bother with none o' tha puny pint glasses neither, giblets fer brains! Jus' bring me th' bloody casket!"
"Ahahaha! Aye got ye now, Tiny! Ye kinnae shake a Stromgaia that easily!" The floor of the cave was littered with many things. Bones. Coins. Gems. Ash. And now it also provided a craggy resting place for an lovingly polished mithril shield and a much older, battle worn axe. Several feet above the ground, gripping her belt tightly, Gaia whooped as she clung to the back of a vigorously bucking dragon.
Gaia sits with her newly hairless head dunked deep within a casket of Bonzebottom Bitters furiously pondering the life choices that led her to this point. Gambling? Check. Unsubstantiated rumor? Check. Dare? Check. Hubris? Double check.
"Aw, c'mon now! Ye kinnae take a joke! 'M jokin'! 'S a joke!" Fire scorched everything. Rock. Coins. The handle of her axe was toast. The shield survived, but it would need a severe polishing. None of Gaia's clothes beneath her armor were spared though. Her beard? Gone. Mama dragon was not amused...
The part that stings the most is that she can't even blame it on alcohol. This time. There are many, many things that she can blame on alcohol. It would be so nice if this could be one of them. Oh well. Next time.
rolled 1d6 and got 2
rolled 1d20 and got 5
((I want to brainstorm for just a bit. Let’s see. Confirmed... We’re going to rock out with Brash...))
rolled 1d20 and got 19
rolled 1d6 and got 3
New topics have been added!
Taff was, as usual, prince Merthyr's lowly manservant. The mightiest warlock to roam the earth, humbly doing the most menial chores with his bare hands, ever so dutifully and willingly, following his lord wherever the young man chose to go, tending to his endless whims.
On this occasion, prince Merthyr had decided that he would visit the tavern just after dark, to drink, gamble and waste the night way, completely disregarding the curfew in place around the city and his father's orders that placed him under house arrest.
One only had but to make a rule or give an order for prince Merthyr to go ahead and do entirely the opposite. Concealed beneath the cloak of darkness and a dark cloak of his own, he was sure the possibility of being seen and discovered was rather slim. That was of course, until the pair entered the tavern.
As luck would have it, Dean Morgan's tavern, which was usually quiet in the secluded corner of a darkened alleyway, rather uneventful, with merely a couple of regular drunkards lazying about, was, on this occasion in full swing, buzzing with songs, chatter and laughter, far busier than ever seen before.
It had been a matter of crossing the door and raising the head to gaze at the other patrons there for the manservant Taff to realize the entire order of the knights of the realm was present there, all knights, guards and squires merrymaking away and having a feast at the same tavern to celebrate the start of the Harvest Fair.
"Now... scurry away and do not come near me... you hear me. Rest assured if anyone even finds out I am the prince... you'll spend the whole week at the stocks." warned Merthyr well aware his manservant's presence was a dead giveaway to his own identity.
Taff sighed and parted company going to the bartender to order himself a mug of ale, watchful of the prince, but from a discreet distance.
"Ahhh here you are.... what brings you here tonight? No royal baboon to tend to?" quizzed Dean Morgan watching surprised as the hooded man on the far corner choked on his freshly poured and served mug.
"Not at all... no duties at all..." assured Taff blatantly lying at the man with ease.
"Oh well, in that case.... let's see how well you gamble tonight... you're quite the daily winner lately" admitted Dean Morgan curious as to why the dice and lady luck favoured him, clearly ignoring the touch of magic that Taff used to spell the dice in his favour.
Now, be as it may, Taff did sneak off every night to come to Morgan's tavern and play at cards and dice and unwind from the pressure of serving the royal spoiled brat, but, in front of the prince and the knights, he always maintained his innocence and integrity by dismissing such claims whenever Merthyr questioned the tinge of stench of ale on Taff's breath. Morgan's loud declaration, of course, right in front of the prince himself could not come at a worse timing.
Taff winced at such confession which cause the hooded figure to drop the clay mug on the floor causing it shatter loudly.
"I knew it! You scoundrel!" growled prince Merthyr slamming his fist on the counter
everyone in the room pausing still, growing immediately silent and turning the fullest attention to the hooded patrol
"Haven't I heard that voice before?" questioned Sir Lancelot staring down at Taff, recognizing the prince's voice but not relating the man to the voice for he had locked up the prince in his quarters not an hour before
"Nope... never seen that man before... probably a tired or clumsy traveler..." lied Taff with as much ease and easy going mannerism, convincing the rest to disregard the prince.
"Or a drunken one!" pitched in Sir Percival in agreement, after gazing at and gauging prince Merthyr's outfit.
To make the most of the night, and further dismiss the idea of the man being the prince, Taff came over to prince Merthyr and slammed two dice and six silver pieces.
"Oi friend... care to bet a round or two? Double or nothing?" challenged Taff casually treating the prince on equal terms, forcing Merthyr to gamble his pouch away whilst Taff skillfully skinned him out of every gold, silver and copper piece the prince had brought.
As the night went on, the irritated looks on Merthyr were a clear indication that the prince would get his revenge for the ongoing humiliation and losses no sooner they reached the royal chambers.
One way or other, with or without the prince being noticed, Taff now knew for sure and certain that he would most definitely be spending the week at the stocks now.
On this occasion, prince Merthyr had decided that he would visit the tavern just after dark, to drink, gamble and waste the night way, completely disregarding the curfew in place around the city and his father's orders that placed him under house arrest.
One only had but to make a rule or give an order for prince Merthyr to go ahead and do entirely the opposite. Concealed beneath the cloak of darkness and a dark cloak of his own, he was sure the possibility of being seen and discovered was rather slim. That was of course, until the pair entered the tavern.
As luck would have it, Dean Morgan's tavern, which was usually quiet in the secluded corner of a darkened alleyway, rather uneventful, with merely a couple of regular drunkards lazying about, was, on this occasion in full swing, buzzing with songs, chatter and laughter, far busier than ever seen before.
It had been a matter of crossing the door and raising the head to gaze at the other patrons there for the manservant Taff to realize the entire order of the knights of the realm was present there, all knights, guards and squires merrymaking away and having a feast at the same tavern to celebrate the start of the Harvest Fair.
"Now... scurry away and do not come near me... you hear me. Rest assured if anyone even finds out I am the prince... you'll spend the whole week at the stocks." warned Merthyr well aware his manservant's presence was a dead giveaway to his own identity.
Taff sighed and parted company going to the bartender to order himself a mug of ale, watchful of the prince, but from a discreet distance.
"Ahhh here you are.... what brings you here tonight? No royal baboon to tend to?" quizzed Dean Morgan watching surprised as the hooded man on the far corner choked on his freshly poured and served mug.
"Not at all... no duties at all..." assured Taff blatantly lying at the man with ease.
"Oh well, in that case.... let's see how well you gamble tonight... you're quite the daily winner lately" admitted Dean Morgan curious as to why the dice and lady luck favoured him, clearly ignoring the touch of magic that Taff used to spell the dice in his favour.
Now, be as it may, Taff did sneak off every night to come to Morgan's tavern and play at cards and dice and unwind from the pressure of serving the royal spoiled brat, but, in front of the prince and the knights, he always maintained his innocence and integrity by dismissing such claims whenever Merthyr questioned the tinge of stench of ale on Taff's breath. Morgan's loud declaration, of course, right in front of the prince himself could not come at a worse timing.
Taff winced at such confession which cause the hooded figure to drop the clay mug on the floor causing it shatter loudly.
"I knew it! You scoundrel!" growled prince Merthyr slamming his fist on the counter
everyone in the room pausing still, growing immediately silent and turning the fullest attention to the hooded patrol
"Haven't I heard that voice before?" questioned Sir Lancelot staring down at Taff, recognizing the prince's voice but not relating the man to the voice for he had locked up the prince in his quarters not an hour before
"Nope... never seen that man before... probably a tired or clumsy traveler..." lied Taff with as much ease and easy going mannerism, convincing the rest to disregard the prince.
"Or a drunken one!" pitched in Sir Percival in agreement, after gazing at and gauging prince Merthyr's outfit.
To make the most of the night, and further dismiss the idea of the man being the prince, Taff came over to prince Merthyr and slammed two dice and six silver pieces.
"Oi friend... care to bet a round or two? Double or nothing?" challenged Taff casually treating the prince on equal terms, forcing Merthyr to gamble his pouch away whilst Taff skillfully skinned him out of every gold, silver and copper piece the prince had brought.
As the night went on, the irritated looks on Merthyr were a clear indication that the prince would get his revenge for the ongoing humiliation and losses no sooner they reached the royal chambers.
One way or other, with or without the prince being noticed, Taff now knew for sure and certain that he would most definitely be spending the week at the stocks now.
rolled 1d6 and got 5
rolled 1d20 and got 19
The prize has been updated to a RAINBOW Phoenix!!
rolled 1d20 and got 5
rolled 1d6 and got 5
((Gotta do this i love it so much lmao))
Edit: I cant read and have realized im an idiot. Apologies. Heck. Why did i do this when I was tired. Thats was a dumb idea.
Redo in process...doing it correct this time.
Topic: Dancing (4/6)
How well its done: (1/20)
Character: Val Emerson
Val had decided to stop by a bar after a long days travel. The day had been long and hard, especially in this hot climate. Val needed to cover up so the sun wouldn't give him a terrible rash. Hazzard of being a vampire. Or one of them at least.
So now it was time to stop for some rest and a drink. Perhaps he would seek out someone for some blood. He may be able to surpress the cravings to an extent, but Val knew he still needed the stuff to keep on living. He clicked his tounge softly, using ecolocation to navigate his surroundings with relative ease.
He ended up seated at the bar, and had quickly retreived his drink from the bartender. Red wine. Delightful indeed. Val kept to himself, being quiet as he could. However his attire was drawing some questioning looks. It was just too heavy.
Val was approached suddenly and tapped on the shoulder. The gesture made Val tense, hand flying to the handle of his hidden knife.
"Oh sir...why dont you take off thst jacket and join me for a dance?" A soft voice, clearly feminine asked.
"Oh no." Val gruffly replied,"I dont-"
But the women interrupted and was so insistent, Val gave in if for nothing else then to get her to be quiet. She'd regret this either way.
Val knew how talented he was at dancing. Val set his jacket down and noted one of the women's friends was watching it. She was chattering and reassuring him.
If nothing else, the folks around here were kind and inviting.
Val was guided to the dance floor and he again tried to warn the girl and maybe get out of this surely terrible time they were about to have.
No dice.
Music began to play, rather arabic and they were dancing, or, well, swaying in beat with the music. Val felt his foot fall on a smaller one.
"Im so sorry!" Val cried after he heard a shreik.
"Quite alright, lets keep going mister newbie dancer." The women teased lightly.
But Val went on to step on her foot a second time. Then a third. On the fourth time, Val was done. He pulled away with a bit of force and says rather sharply,"thats enough of that!"
He slowly turned and walked away, ignoring the women as he went and sat back down.
He was left alone for a time, an awkward silence seemed to go on forever. Val chugged his wine, slammed the glass down, gave some money, and left the bar.
What a disaster.
Edit: I cant read and have realized im an idiot. Apologies. Heck. Why did i do this when I was tired. Thats was a dumb idea.
Dumb human stuff I dont wanna delete because I was actually kinda proud of it 😭
Topic: Flirting
Sucess rate: 4/6-slightly better then average.
Zaccheus was bored once again. The god had done all he could to keep his time records safe and had fixed a distortion that had occured. But that was all that had occured in two years. two years! It was never this quiet. Ever. The god had already read every book in his library twice, ate spicy chicken wings until he puked (alas, he was surprised to find he did have a limit for the stuff) and ran his time wish gameshow.
The gameshow had pissed off a certain other goddess, and Zaccheus had the time of his life persuading this angry women not to slaughter him. So he wasn't doing the gameshow and taking any mortals through time until a few centuries passed at least.
"Im so bored. Everything is boring right now." Zaccheus sighed deeply and thought for what seemed like hours. Then, like a sack of bricks, it hit him on the head. Maybe he could flirt his way into a date?
Zaccheus stood and headed over to a mirror. He placed his hand upon it.
"What time period...?" He mused aloud,"lets try London, England, 2007!" He decided thus suddenly and pushed away from the mirror, pulling a stopwatch out of his jacket pocket.
He opened it and then gazed at it as he made the hands turn. A click responded throughout the room, echoing. Zaccheus saw white and felt himself falling. Then, the feeling stopped and at once, he found himself where he wished to be.
London, England in 2007.
The 2000s era was a strange time in human history. Zaccheus reflected,strange indeed. he began to walk, looking for someone to target.
They couldn't be any plane jane. This mortal needed to be special. Eye catching. Gender mattered nothing to Zaccheus, he looked at everyone he walked past.
His gaze set on someone, and Zaccheus was uncertain of their gender. But they looked cute. They had black pants and a blue sweatshirt on, and also wore a knit hat which was a light pink. Their face was plump. Zaccheus thought it made them look adorable. Oh how he wanted to pinch that persons cheeks and hug them and maybe other things, if he was allowed.
But Zaccheus knew not to rush things with mortals. Not ever. It only scared and angered them. This person looked a bit young, but still well into adulthood.
To the gods shock, however, he wasn't the one to make the first move.
"Oh man! Sick steampunk outfit!" The person, now seemingly male (or so Zaccheus thought) had approached.
"Thank you, but I like what your wearing better. It looks great on you." Zaccheus gave a genuine little compliment.
The man blushed,"oh! Ah! Thank you." He would give a chuckle.
"Im Zack. Whats your name?" Zaccheus smiled brightly.
"James."
"James. A fine name for a lovely person such as yourself." Zaccheus layed it on the poor man.
James gave another chuckle, now slightly nervous,"um...thank you?"
Ah heck. He was doing it again. Zaccheus felt mad at himself. He was making the mortal uncomfortable. Zaccheus scanned James and saw a patch on his shirt.
"You're into Black Regional Coffee? I love that place!" Zaccheus grins.
"Ah? You do? Thats awesome! I enjoy the flavors of coffee there. Its nice." James figited with a string on his sweatshirt.
"Maybe I could take you on a date there sometime?" Zaccheus boldly asked.
James paused, freezing, and then he laughed nervously,"whoa...uh..." He hesitated.
Zaccheus quickly backtracked,"or...or not! Sorry. I dont mean to pressure you at all. Uh...I just...think you are cute and handsome."
James would think a moment,"well, thats sweet of you to say." He smiled awkwardly.
"Listen uh...can I give you my number? Id like to get to know you if possible. Maybe be friends?" Zaccheus reflected on himself. He was so trash at flirting. Why did he think this was a good idea?
James paused again for a tense few moments and then gave a hefty sigh,"@*€£× it. Sure. I'll take your number."
Zaccheus was amazed he'd pulled this off. He exchanged numbers with James and smiled at him. The two said some goodbyes and Zaccheus grinned as he walked away.
There was hope after all.
Topic: Flirting
Sucess rate: 4/6-slightly better then average.
Zaccheus was bored once again. The god had done all he could to keep his time records safe and had fixed a distortion that had occured. But that was all that had occured in two years. two years! It was never this quiet. Ever. The god had already read every book in his library twice, ate spicy chicken wings until he puked (alas, he was surprised to find he did have a limit for the stuff) and ran his time wish gameshow.
The gameshow had pissed off a certain other goddess, and Zaccheus had the time of his life persuading this angry women not to slaughter him. So he wasn't doing the gameshow and taking any mortals through time until a few centuries passed at least.
"Im so bored. Everything is boring right now." Zaccheus sighed deeply and thought for what seemed like hours. Then, like a sack of bricks, it hit him on the head. Maybe he could flirt his way into a date?
Zaccheus stood and headed over to a mirror. He placed his hand upon it.
"What time period...?" He mused aloud,"lets try London, England, 2007!" He decided thus suddenly and pushed away from the mirror, pulling a stopwatch out of his jacket pocket.
He opened it and then gazed at it as he made the hands turn. A click responded throughout the room, echoing. Zaccheus saw white and felt himself falling. Then, the feeling stopped and at once, he found himself where he wished to be.
London, England in 2007.
The 2000s era was a strange time in human history. Zaccheus reflected,strange indeed. he began to walk, looking for someone to target.
They couldn't be any plane jane. This mortal needed to be special. Eye catching. Gender mattered nothing to Zaccheus, he looked at everyone he walked past.
His gaze set on someone, and Zaccheus was uncertain of their gender. But they looked cute. They had black pants and a blue sweatshirt on, and also wore a knit hat which was a light pink. Their face was plump. Zaccheus thought it made them look adorable. Oh how he wanted to pinch that persons cheeks and hug them and maybe other things, if he was allowed.
But Zaccheus knew not to rush things with mortals. Not ever. It only scared and angered them. This person looked a bit young, but still well into adulthood.
To the gods shock, however, he wasn't the one to make the first move.
"Oh man! Sick steampunk outfit!" The person, now seemingly male (or so Zaccheus thought) had approached.
"Thank you, but I like what your wearing better. It looks great on you." Zaccheus gave a genuine little compliment.
The man blushed,"oh! Ah! Thank you." He would give a chuckle.
"Im Zack. Whats your name?" Zaccheus smiled brightly.
"James."
"James. A fine name for a lovely person such as yourself." Zaccheus layed it on the poor man.
James gave another chuckle, now slightly nervous,"um...thank you?"
Ah heck. He was doing it again. Zaccheus felt mad at himself. He was making the mortal uncomfortable. Zaccheus scanned James and saw a patch on his shirt.
"You're into Black Regional Coffee? I love that place!" Zaccheus grins.
"Ah? You do? Thats awesome! I enjoy the flavors of coffee there. Its nice." James figited with a string on his sweatshirt.
"Maybe I could take you on a date there sometime?" Zaccheus boldly asked.
James paused, freezing, and then he laughed nervously,"whoa...uh..." He hesitated.
Zaccheus quickly backtracked,"or...or not! Sorry. I dont mean to pressure you at all. Uh...I just...think you are cute and handsome."
James would think a moment,"well, thats sweet of you to say." He smiled awkwardly.
"Listen uh...can I give you my number? Id like to get to know you if possible. Maybe be friends?" Zaccheus reflected on himself. He was so trash at flirting. Why did he think this was a good idea?
James paused again for a tense few moments and then gave a hefty sigh,"@*€£× it. Sure. I'll take your number."
Zaccheus was amazed he'd pulled this off. He exchanged numbers with James and smiled at him. The two said some goodbyes and Zaccheus grinned as he walked away.
There was hope after all.
Redo in process...doing it correct this time.
Topic: Dancing (4/6)
How well its done: (1/20)
Character: Val Emerson
Val had decided to stop by a bar after a long days travel. The day had been long and hard, especially in this hot climate. Val needed to cover up so the sun wouldn't give him a terrible rash. Hazzard of being a vampire. Or one of them at least.
So now it was time to stop for some rest and a drink. Perhaps he would seek out someone for some blood. He may be able to surpress the cravings to an extent, but Val knew he still needed the stuff to keep on living. He clicked his tounge softly, using ecolocation to navigate his surroundings with relative ease.
He ended up seated at the bar, and had quickly retreived his drink from the bartender. Red wine. Delightful indeed. Val kept to himself, being quiet as he could. However his attire was drawing some questioning looks. It was just too heavy.
Val was approached suddenly and tapped on the shoulder. The gesture made Val tense, hand flying to the handle of his hidden knife.
"Oh sir...why dont you take off thst jacket and join me for a dance?" A soft voice, clearly feminine asked.
"Oh no." Val gruffly replied,"I dont-"
But the women interrupted and was so insistent, Val gave in if for nothing else then to get her to be quiet. She'd regret this either way.
Val knew how talented he was at dancing. Val set his jacket down and noted one of the women's friends was watching it. She was chattering and reassuring him.
If nothing else, the folks around here were kind and inviting.
Val was guided to the dance floor and he again tried to warn the girl and maybe get out of this surely terrible time they were about to have.
No dice.
Music began to play, rather arabic and they were dancing, or, well, swaying in beat with the music. Val felt his foot fall on a smaller one.
"Im so sorry!" Val cried after he heard a shreik.
"Quite alright, lets keep going mister newbie dancer." The women teased lightly.
But Val went on to step on her foot a second time. Then a third. On the fourth time, Val was done. He pulled away with a bit of force and says rather sharply,"thats enough of that!"
He slowly turned and walked away, ignoring the women as he went and sat back down.
He was left alone for a time, an awkward silence seemed to go on forever. Val chugged his wine, slammed the glass down, gave some money, and left the bar.
What a disaster.
rolled 1d20 and got 1
rolled 1d6 and got 4
This has been extended!
((Edit: Something has come up, so I'll have to pull out of this one. Good luck to everyone else!))
rolled 1d6 and got 4
rolled 1d20 and got 3
((What a fun idea! I’ll write something as soon as I know what’s happening 👀))
rolled 1d6 and got 5
rolled 1d20 and got 10
(( PLACEHOLDING cos I have an idea! 
))
))
rolled 1d6 and got 2
rolled 1d20 and got 18
Editing soon
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13 and 3
=====
Baking/Cooking!
=====
Apparently mistakes happen, but not to bad
=====
Ray Bella is working at a cafe when a gentleman came in. "Hello sir." Ray said having a light smile, her long hair blowing back from a nearby fan. She is wearing a mini sky blue dress uniform. "Hello, my dear can you bake me a chocolate muffin that is as cute as you?" He said with a sweet tone and took her hand lightly kissing it. "Sure.... I will be back just have a seat there." She said blushing, as she then switches with another staff member so she can go bake. She places the mixtures on the table, then places a bowl. "Let see where is that cook book?" She said to herself as she searches around and finds it placing on the table. "There we go and muffins there." She begins to read and try her best to do as it says. "Let see I need a measuring cup hmm, seems I will have to guess it since I cant find it." She sighs and smashes things together muffin mix just goes into the air and coughs could be heard from the other workers who soon look glares at her. "Uuhhh sorry!!!" She said and then gets nervous, but she was determine. She then places into the oven to cook, after a few minutes fire alarm goes off and she quickly turns off oven and saves them in time, they only a little burnt, but no one can notice it to much. She pretty much gets a D or C for effort maybe, she finishes up and brings it to him she made the chocolates that are on top into a kitten shape. "This is lovely." He said and then takes a few bites, notices a little burn part. He just smiled and kept eating and as he finished up, he stood up and gave her a kiss.
=====
13 and 3
=====
Baking/Cooking!
=====
Apparently mistakes happen, but not to bad
=====
Yandere Cooking
Ray Bella is working at a cafe when a gentleman came in. "Hello sir." Ray said having a light smile, her long hair blowing back from a nearby fan. She is wearing a mini sky blue dress uniform. "Hello, my dear can you bake me a chocolate muffin that is as cute as you?" He said with a sweet tone and took her hand lightly kissing it. "Sure.... I will be back just have a seat there." She said blushing, as she then switches with another staff member so she can go bake. She places the mixtures on the table, then places a bowl. "Let see where is that cook book?" She said to herself as she searches around and finds it placing on the table. "There we go and muffins there." She begins to read and try her best to do as it says. "Let see I need a measuring cup hmm, seems I will have to guess it since I cant find it." She sighs and smashes things together muffin mix just goes into the air and coughs could be heard from the other workers who soon look glares at her. "Uuhhh sorry!!!" She said and then gets nervous, but she was determine. She then places into the oven to cook, after a few minutes fire alarm goes off and she quickly turns off oven and saves them in time, they only a little burnt, but no one can notice it to much. She pretty much gets a D or C for effort maybe, she finishes up and brings it to him she made the chocolates that are on top into a kitten shape. "This is lovely." He said and then takes a few bites, notices a little burn part. He just smiled and kept eating and as he finished up, he stood up and gave her a kiss.
rolled 1d20 and got 13
rolled 1d6 and got 3
Last chance to enter this!
I will be announcing the winner soon!
yay
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