Thar Shaddin

Saruna wrote:THIS FUCKING POST.

At first I was like man, it's gonna be really hard to play a character who can't move. I wonder if he'll have enough to really work with? In most cases I, myself, try to avoid too much thought process back to back, as it can often get repetitive and dull. Yet, Corey manages to not only keep me engaged as a reader of what he's writing with this character who is essentially locked in his mind, but as the player writing with him it makes me eager to see what nastiness will come out of this rp. And for a rp I thought was going to be a one-off flutter of nothingness, that really makes me happy. Good job, man.

On the afternoon of the second day, Breda woke up with a throbbing ache in her very lowest abdomen, and an irresistible urge to relieve herself that sent her flying to the outhouse behind The Kitten. There she passed dark, foul-smelling water that burned like acid on its way out. That put her instantly out of commission, and on a disgusting, greenish medicine. She shared the following two days and a night between laying in bed hugging a hot water bottle, and whimpering on a chamber pot brought to her room.

The henpecked merc muttered "Well then, it is simple: we shall make you an uncommon thief", then planted a solid punch to the back of Fariq's head, rattling the base of the petty man's sneering skull. As the accomplished complainer crumpled down in the darkness, Ramon added "Sorry, unconscious thief, not uncommon. I don't know how I got those two mixed up. Sertor, can you lug him around? None of us particularly want to touch him at present."

Instead of simply disappearing into the depths, he turned to Hanuel and bade her, “Come along, guard dog. Heel.”

He shook his head, crossing to the strongbox at the foot of his bed, and tried to ignore the way the room spun. It was easier to navigate that way, and after all; a man could go mad if he let a room give him directions.