##choose Option B

If Sandor wishes to hide in his shell, so be it! But I'm finna take this falchion for a spin! LEMME AT EMMMM!!!

*loosely twirls the blade around his hands*

*squeaks with sadistic delight*

"If we're not protecting the desert too I'm out."

If no one from my group had strong feelings im going to choose option b

Stepping away from the chaos for a moment, Lavina moves over to the window in the corner of the bar. Pulling her banjo from around her back, she strums a single chord on it -- staring out into the distance. Life hadn't always been like this for Lavina and in some ways, she was still adjusting to this new lifestyle of banditry and deception. Growing up, Lavina wasn't even aware you were able to have free will to choose a life of crime.

Strumming a few more chords, Lavina's banjo starts to play a soft melody in the corner of the bar as she reflects on her life. Growing up, Lavina had found community with a small collection of angels. She grew up in a commune of people just like her, and they taught her the ways of being an angel. Everything was peachy and cheery for them, at least on the outside, and Lavina was blinded by the bliss of the lifestyle. This continued all the way up to her 18th birthday when they were set out into the world to fix it for the better. She lived by a strict moral code and one hard and fast rule that her kind had to follow -- never fall in love with someone from the mortal world.

Lavina thought this would be a simple task. Every brief interaction she'd had with anyone outside of her commune had humored her at best, finding the way humans lived their lives so drab. In her first few years on Earth, Lavina had been a devout angel and become a local legend her in town -- helping the townsfolk in any way she could. She found peace in being regarded as a hero and reveled in her new life, never questioning her morals.

But that all changed when she saw him for the first time. That Giggle Dog. He had simply just been passing through town, on another passing acventure.

He was something she'd never seen before and it intrigued her, causing her heart to thump in her chest violently. It had only been a moment but it was enough for Lavina to realize that she had to know more about him. Her heart had been stolen by this freaky little thing, and in that exact moment -- a crash of lighting struck down in the town. Lavina's pure white wings had suddenly been tainted a dark pink color at the tips -- signaling that she had been outcast for her own kind for falling in love with someone from the mortal realm.

Her whole life had been changed in the span of a moment. All over a passing stranger.

Lavina cursed under her breath before committing to following whoever this stranger was to learn more about him. In her mission to find out everything she could about Vandal, she stumbled across a duo of strong southern women like herself. She quickly took them under her wing, literally and physically, and formed an alliance with the both of them. She didn't dare tell them about her love for this stranger she'd been following all these years, out of fear of judgement from them. Over the years, she'd find ways to slip hints of adventures she knew that Vandal would be on to her teammates to lead them to cross paths with him. The two of them taught Lavina about the realities of the world and how cruel people could really be. She picked up quickly and learned that this world was a dog eat Giggle Dog world and in order to survive, she had to always be the first to strike.

And here they found themselves, on yet another adventure with the Hell Belle's. Putting her banjo down, she puts her hand on the window -- looking out the window at the town they had found themselves in. Would this time be any different?

honestly when i started typing that, i didn't expect it to go in the direction it did but i'm pleased

##Sidequest #1: Keepers of the Woods

##Sidequest #2:

Vandal slept. And as he slept, he dreamed. Dreamed of his origin, conveniently enough. Loading tragedy.txt.

Ever since he was but a giggle pup, Vandal loved dearly three things - his parents, tales of adventure and milk. So it was rather fortuitous for him that his parents were world famous adventurers. They never stayed in one place for long, as adventure rarely comes to find you. After a handful of years of this arrangement, Vandal grew restless. It wasn't enough to hear tales of adventure secondhand from his parents when they would return. Not nearly enough anymore. The excitable young giggler was ready to get out there and seize the day himself.

Vandal next dreamed about the day his adventure actually began. It was early evening in some miserably arid hellscape. A sandstorm was kicking up and a frustrated giggle dog was standing outside, staring out into it as it danced through the dunes. His parents had of course forbade him from following them, as adventure was far too dangerous for him at his age. They'd promised him that he could join when he was older, but he was done waiting. Vandal wrapped a scarf around his face and full of piss and vinegar he headed out into the desert after his parents.

Vandal whimpered as his dream switched scene. A young pup wandering the sands, not entirely sure at this point if he was even walking in the right direction anymore. He just assumed that he would crest the first hill and find his parents engaged in battle with a diabolical sandworm or desert dragon. And naturally he would arrive just in time to swoop in and save the day. The beast would fall, his parents would be proud, and hopefully there would be a cool reward. He clung tight as he could to this idea as he continued through the shifting dunes.

It was quite late when he finally found them. A distressed, warbling voice drew him to the scene. The first thing he noticed was the large overturned carriage. There was a whole mess of stuff strewn about the sand. Exotic silks and other materials near literally carpeting the immediate area. Vandal couldn't even begin to imagine their worth, but he knew they were really nice. He retrieved a still burning torch from the overturned carraige and knelt down to dig through some of the fabrics. With the introduction of the torchlight, he could more clearly see the silks. And the blood on the sand, and more importantly, the wealthy, probably important body that the blood had spilled from.

The pup's confidence all but faded upon seeing the carnage, and he was suddenly very aware of the voice that called for help in the first place. Vandal slowly made his way to the front of the overturned transport. There were dead beasts laying there on their side, still harnessed to the carriage. He walked by more merchants and then the bottom fell out of his stomach. His mother was laying sprawled on the sand unmoving. He had a second to mourn before the voice addressed him directly. "YOU! Get this piece of shit off of me, help!" Vandal's eyes were drawn to a severely wounded man struggling to wiggle out from underneath another dead giggle dog.

When Vandal recognized his father, he ripped the scarf from his face to dab at his stinging eyes. Upon seeing his face, the wounded man began to laugh in disbelief. You've gotta be fucking kidding me! Another one? I took care of this trash, I'll take care of you too pipsqueak!" The man began to wildly scramble now, using his last reserves of energy. He was worming towards a rather fancy blade in the sand. Vandal found it first and saw red. "That's not true. They were heroes." And then the pup used everything he had to swing the sword one time and finish what his father had started. The origin dream ended with the man's scream.

The giggle pup emerged a giggle dog that night. He laid his parents to rest as best he could given the circumstance and then draped in reds and whites, and whatever else he wanted to take from the carriage, Vandal exited the dunes. He had found his call to adventure and was ready to face it with the ridiculous sultan scimitar he was dragging in the sand behind him. He was determined. But he had never quite realized or accepted the truth about his parents and their adventuring.

Vandal, raised by bandits. Hunter of bandits. Borrower of stolen goods.

End tragedy.txt	+
I tried to make a kid version of Vandal. I wish there was a way to change the size of the gear and helmets so he looked more "dwarfed" by the stuff. The rubber ducky is there to prove it's young Vandal.

Vandal's story was very tragic indeed. Marnu was quite sad upon reading it. Fortunately the cute picture of him as a young pup with his little rubber ducky cheered Marnu up.

Rara is the lone survivor from her village of fox. She swears vengeance and wishes to discover who hunted the fox.

##Share tragic backstory

Why did people keep getting hurt? Could no one see that I just want to be friends? This shadow has been hanging over me ever since the incident last summer. Everyone sees a satyr and assumes my romantic overtures are violent. The maidens run and scream. Ella ran and screamed right over a cliff. This can't keep happening!

##share backstory ^^^

Above

Shadow @ 7/2/2021 10:25

Rara is the lone survivor from her village of fox. She swears vengeance and wishes to discover who hunted the fox.

A mission which we will help you with once we are done here!

##choose option b

CherryBerry @ 7/2/2021 10:41

##Share tragic backstory Why did people keep getting hurt? Could no one see that I just want to be friends? This shadow has been hanging over me ever since the incident last summer. Everyone sees a satyr and assumes my romantic overtures are violent. The maidens run and scream. Ella ran and screamed right over a cliff. This can't keep happening!

“Why did people keep getting hurt?” questioned the person who did the hurting

Greaseface is not amused and this incident only solidifies his learnings that all creatures and races are cruel and selfish

Sandro was in his small room, curled up in bed with his face in a well-worn book when he heard a knock on the door.

"Your brothers are off training, why haven't you joined them?"

"I don't like it," he replied, "Eldath teaches us that peace is the right path, why should I practice combat?"

The voice on the other side of the door seemed to consider this. "Hmm. She does. But what of Tempus? Malar, or even Helm? What would they say on the matter?"

Sandro furrowed his brow slightly. "That's... true," he admitted to his ratfolk caretaker. "I wouldn't want to offend those who are more... aggressive." He closed the book, sighed, and placed it on the nearby table. "What are they doing?"

"Leo is leading them in some spars, I believe." Sandro could swear he could hear the slight grin on his face.

He sighed. "Great. They're going to destroy me."

This time he definitely heard a laugh. "Well, pray to Ilmater and Helm, and if that doesn't work out, Loviatar at least will be pleased with you."

"Yeah, yeah..." he said as he began wrapping his wrists.