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<blockquote data-quote="Corinthi" data-source="post: 1208741" data-attributes="member: 8272"><p><strong>Roach - Human Cancer Mage</strong></p><p></p><p>*A harsh wet hacking cough echoes off the walls of a dank, narrow alley. A slender figure, clad in rags, kneels on the ground, his head pressed against the slimy cobbles as his back contorts and spasms with the force of his coughs. With a gurgling hack, he brings up a garish orange globule, which he spits against a wall.*</p><p></p><p>*His simple absolutions attended to, Roach shakily rises to his feet, loose rags swaying about his slim form like cloth serpents. He dries his forehead with the back of his arm, then stumbles from the alley into the darkness of the city. A busy evening awaits the feverish wretch. He reaches into a concealed pocket in his rags and fingers the shiny baubles within.*</p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: red">They were generous with thier alms last night. Yes... The money poured from them like ooze from a wound.</span></em> *Roach thought to himself in a self satisfied manner.*</p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: lightgreen">You mean you were good with your fingers. Those wealthy curs wouldn't know generosity if it were a boil on thier arses.</span></em> *The mental voice that answered Roach was... different. It burned in his mind like a wetstone scratched across a sheet of slate. The voice was unwholesome, alien, yet undeniably his.</p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: red">I'll have none of your naysaying tonight. Tonight we must distribute these alms to appease the hungers.</span></em></p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: lightgreen">Our hungers will not be satiated by your feeble attempts at charity, human. We crave flesh. Something supple and fresh. A child perhaps.</span></em></p><p></p><p>*A thin trail of saliva begins to slide down Roach's chin even as he shakes his head, mumbing to noone.* "No, the little ones have enough problems without us feeding on them." *His stomach begins to growl angrily.*</p><p></p><p><em><span style="color: lightgreen">We don't need to kill the little kipper. We just need a taste. Something tender, something they don't need. A nose. Give us a nose and we'll be happy. And the little one will find more mercy with a minor disfigurement.</span></em></p><p></p><p>*As always, Roach nods his head to the twisted wisdom of his own private demons. He heads out to make his donations. He tries to evenly split his 'alms' between the charity houses of Pelor, the churches of Talona and Wee Jas, and the Shattered Sister. Even if it's not a chirch of Loviatar, it does the goddess' good work. Also, should he find a tasty morsel along the way, one mother will never need to wipe her child's nose again.*</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Corinthi, post: 1208741, member: 8272"] [b]Roach - Human Cancer Mage[/b] *A harsh wet hacking cough echoes off the walls of a dank, narrow alley. A slender figure, clad in rags, kneels on the ground, his head pressed against the slimy cobbles as his back contorts and spasms with the force of his coughs. With a gurgling hack, he brings up a garish orange globule, which he spits against a wall.* *His simple absolutions attended to, Roach shakily rises to his feet, loose rags swaying about his slim form like cloth serpents. He dries his forehead with the back of his arm, then stumbles from the alley into the darkness of the city. A busy evening awaits the feverish wretch. He reaches into a concealed pocket in his rags and fingers the shiny baubles within.* [i][color=red]They were generous with thier alms last night. Yes... The money poured from them like ooze from a wound.[/color][/i] *Roach thought to himself in a self satisfied manner.* [i][color=lightgreen]You mean you were good with your fingers. Those wealthy curs wouldn't know generosity if it were a boil on thier arses.[/color][/i] *The mental voice that answered Roach was... different. It burned in his mind like a wetstone scratched across a sheet of slate. The voice was unwholesome, alien, yet undeniably his. [i][color=red]I'll have none of your naysaying tonight. Tonight we must distribute these alms to appease the hungers.[/color][/i][color=red][/color] [i][color=lightgreen]Our hungers will not be satiated by your feeble attempts at charity, human. We crave flesh. Something supple and fresh. A child perhaps.[/color][/i][color=lightgreen][/color] *A thin trail of saliva begins to slide down Roach's chin even as he shakes his head, mumbing to noone.* "No, the little ones have enough problems without us feeding on them." *His stomach begins to growl angrily.* [i][color=lightgreen]We don't need to kill the little kipper. We just need a taste. Something tender, something they don't need. A nose. Give us a nose and we'll be happy. And the little one will find more mercy with a minor disfigurement.[/color][/i][color=lightgreen][/color] *As always, Roach nods his head to the twisted wisdom of his own private demons. He heads out to make his donations. He tries to evenly split his 'alms' between the charity houses of Pelor, the churches of Talona and Wee Jas, and the Shattered Sister. Even if it's not a chirch of Loviatar, it does the goddess' good work. Also, should he find a tasty morsel along the way, one mother will never need to wipe her child's nose again.* [/QUOTE]
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