The Advent of Night

[___ He/Him]

11 hours ago, SpiritOfWrath said:

End nodded. “I agree.”

A shadowy blade formed in his hand.

@mippo

@Argenti

Vens stands, white daggers in hand, ready

[Through the Living Wrath he/him]

On 2/14/2026 at 1:30 PM, Argenti said:

Hope isn’t much of a fighter. This one, at least.

End spares a glance for Hope, and hands her a shadowy dagger. “It should make fighting them… a little easier. Be careful with the edge, it can sever… most anything.”

On 2/14/2026 at 2:58 PM, edgyswordname said:

A man on a horse approaches in the distance, riding slowly while he experiments with a small brass instrument. The combination of the instruments quite random and unskilled attempts at a song with the horses occasional unsuccessful attempt to throw the rider on a particularly flatulent note would cause even the most polite person to describe him as “comical”. However, the ridiculous olive green and sunflower yellow plaid cloak that hid most of the riders body from view really tipped his appearance from humorous to deliberately self deprecating. He reaches the camp and looks down at the group. “Hullo. Would any of you know where to find an inn? Or a village? Really any place looking for an exiled Fool,” he said in an incongruously terrifying hissing attempt at a voice. The juxtaposition was unsettling.

Quote

Sorry I didn’t see this earlier! I’m not the GM, but Wit gave us creative freedom (er enough of that) until he returns, and I seem to be the ONLY ONE THAT CARES

The party was considering a menacing group of misshaped, dying people that ambled their way along the road.

”Welcome,” End said. “We’ll need your help dealing with those zombies.”

 

 

On 2/14/2026 at 10:51 PM, mippo said:

Vens stands, white daggers in hand, ready

End nods, and strides forward with the shadow dagger.

[Verdance he/him]

Fool turns his horse to the zombies. “Hm. Nasty little buggers, aren’t they?” He stows the horn in a pouch on his saddle and pulls out a dagger. Inexplicably, it crumbles away into blood and mist in his fingers. “That’s odd.” He instead dismounts and joins the line to face them on foot, unarmed.