Rewnel77

Faint snores and the internal drumming of a heartbeat filled the still mostly asleep tsurexs ears. Everything around them was soft and warm. The air smelled of cherries, citrus and dirt. With a yawn Trigger nuzzled their face deeper into soft, citrus smelling material, their whiskers and antenna lightly brushing all over the thing. Slowly Triggers mind realized that their old, ramshackle shack did not normally smell of citrus and cherries, the dirt however was a constant smell they couldn't remove. As the tired, white eyes opened, they were assaulted by colors of blue, black and white. It took a little while for Triggers mind to realize that they were using their friend Soot as a pillow, his fur wet where Triggers face once laid on him. The larger fluffy beblune let out a mermer as he tried to curl closer to the tsurex as they moved away from his sleeping form. Trigger watched as his side rose and fell with every tired breath. A different mermer pulled Triggers attention away from the

The crunch of fallen leafs filled the air, the faint whistle of the whispering winds as they blew around the dead leafs and some dust around, the occasional caw of crows who clustered around what appeared to be a dead corpse. High in the sky stood a bright moon whose glow gave this scare attraction such a lovely aura. In the middle of a small clearing lay a body, it was mostly black with markings of a dark purple, golden fur clung to the neck like a mane. Its white bone face seemed to glow in the moonlight. The group slowly approached the body, it looked too realistic to be a prop and it was too obvious to be a scare actor. A melanistic beblune approached the strange mass of fur and bone. The closer they got the worse the smell grew, it smelled like rotting meat and mushrooms. The thing that laid on the floor slowly started to move. A wheeze escaped its mouth alongside a low guttural groan. The suddenly very apparent mowl started to rise from the ground, a golden mist of fungal spores

Wet, why was it always wet? Questioned the mad doctor who sat at the entrance to his cave, high above a cult who at best were silent as a mouse, however tonight they were not. The chanting and rising voices could be heard up in his cave. It rattled in his brain, much like the semblance of sanity he long since left behind. A grumbling voice could be heard from under his broken mask. Doc could barely stand normal beblunes, but this was going too far. At least they didn't question his motives or his ‘studies’. He considered the leader a blessing in disguise. She never really bothered him unless absolutely necessary. So why the chanting, and why in the rain. The mad doctor continued with his vials of pungent smelling liquids and vile smelling fluids that were probably once inside a beblunes body. The clacking of glass made the doctor slowly calm down. That was until the voices outside started to get louder and louder. As if this stormy day wasn't already crummy enough. The doctor started

A deep rumble of thunder, and the loud drumming of rain on the old, worn out roof of a barely stable, ramshackle shack, whose walls were being battered by the storms unrelenting winds filled an already anxious tsurex with more dread. Trigger lay in one of the very few dry areas of the shack, a corner that housed their bedding and a very unhappy gray and white cat. Trigger tried to calm down their feline companion by gently petting them. Near the bedding stood probably the saddest looking candle that has ever seen the light of day, it stood not upright, but sideways so the wax dripped onto the old termite eaten wood floor boards, it's wick seemed to never want to go with the rest of the wax but was somehow coerced into following it. The candle gave just enough light for Trigger to see the ground and shelves around them. The shelves housed old, molding books as well as an occasional dead rat. The ground wasn't any cleaner, Trigger could have sworn they saw a giant spider run past the