Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28 
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Feb 10, 2022 16:43:40 GMT -5
 The Fungal ForestLocated along the coast some distance west of Godslost Hollow lies a most unusual forest. No trees grow here, as the landscape is dominated entirely by massive mushrooms of all shapes and colors. Their heavy, spore-filled caps overlap with each other, blocking out the sun entirely and leaving the understory a damp, pitch-black maze of stems and stone. Strange howls can be heard from within the labyrinth of mushrooms, dissuading all but the bravest and most foolish explorers from venturing into its hazy depths. |
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Foxgloves
Established
Roleplay posts: 28
Appearance: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Skills and Abilities: Foxgloves, at his very core, is a salesman. He primarily sells glass eyes and body parts, although can generally find anything the customer could possibly desire for the right price. He tends to be very curious, and loves nothing more than a good story or a secret. In general, he displays a casual disregard for rules of all kinds, whether they be posted signs, regulations of a nation, or the laws of nature itself.
Biography: Foxgloves is quiet and focused, with a calm voice that hides how high-strung he can be. He has the habit of becoming fixated on certain people or things, usually things he finds particularly beautiful. A soft-spoken individual, Foxgloves’ lack of vocal cords prevents him from speaking above a loud whisper. Very few things upset him, except when it comes to things that he cannot have. If Foxgloves wants something, he will bargain incessantly, before resorting to begging or stealing. If deprived of something he wants badly, he falls into a deep melancholy. Usually, he perks up again once he manages to find or create a facsimile of the desired object, even if it’s nothing more than a piece of painted paper-mache.
Allegiances: Himself
Registered: Mar 19, 2021 19:18:12 GMT -5
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Post by Foxgloves on Feb 10, 2022 17:54:37 GMT -5
Foxgloves had grown taller.
Well, perhaps grown wasn't the correct word. Stretched, maybe, or lengthened. Regardless, he was higher off the ground than he'd been before, an experience he found to be quite novel. Looking down at his legs, he shook one and then the other, marveling at how long they were. It really had been quite a simple process, one that he'd never considered trying before. It had only taken a few minutes to cut the legs off a spare pair of pants and stitch them to the cuffs of his current trousers, creating a single pair roughly twice as long as they had been before. He found the extra height quite pleasant, allowing him to reach up high enough to pluck strange, glowing fungal growths from the sides of the giant mushroom trunks. Why hadn't he done this before? Humans grew all the time, from what he'd seen. Of course, once they reached a certain height, they tended to grow out more often than up. Foxgloves had always wondered why they did that. He'd spent quite a bit of time watching people back in the old world, peering at them as they walked down the streets from his hiding places within sewers, bushes, and hollow trees. They were quite a strange bunch, people.
Foxgloves had always considered himself to be quite like people, in that he was about the same size and shape as most of them. Now that he was taller, however, things seemed a little different. His perspective shifted from his new vantage point, and he wondered if he was really like them very much at all. People could grow, but it seemed that they seldom grew as much as he did. People liked to talk, and he much preferred to listen. People ate, but they ate such a tiny assortment of things that he wondered if they even cared about flavor at all. As he mused, he took the glowing lump of mushroom flesh and slipped it under his mask, letting his tongue curl around it and drag it back into the darkness beneath. It tasted interesting enough, rather a combination of dirt and fireflies.
"People are such odd creatures," he said aloud, letting his voice echo off the mushrooms around him. "Perhaps the oddest of them all. I don't think I'm much like them, am I?"
The maggots that crawled out of the mushroom caps at the sound of his voice didn't respond, simply squirming and writhing for a few moments before burrowing back into their homes. Unperturbed, Foxgloves pulled out his scissors and a spare coat and set to work once more, this time lengthening his arms. Half an hour later, he stretched out his newly-extended limbs, enjoying the amount of reach he'd gained. Why, he'd only have to take half as many steps to get places. It was a wonder that more people didn't do it. Packing up his scraps into a large canvas sack, he threw the bag over his shoulder and continued loping through the forest, finding great joy in how easy it was to step over small rocks and mushrooms that laid in his path.
Some time later, he found a person writhing on the ground, face twisted in the agony as it succumbed to the poisoned spores in the air. Stepping carefully over, he loomed over the fallen human to peer at it as it died. It was a woman, he noticed. That was odd, usually he noticed that sort of thing earlier. From his new vantage point, however, he found himself thinking of humans as a little more foreign than they'd been before. It really was quite strange how altering his shape changed his perspective on things, and he found it quite intriguing. Pulling a scrap of paper from his pocket, he jotted down a quick note on the matter. It was an odd phenomenon, and one well worth investigating. He placed the paper away and looked back to the woman, who was now staring at him in absolute horror.
"Don't mind me," said Foxgloves, pulling his scissors from his pocket. "I believe that you'll soon die. Would you mind sharing your clothes with me? I don't think you'll need them soon."
The woman, choked and poisoned as it was, was unable to gasp out a response. Figuring that it would have said yes if it could, Foxgloves bent down and cut the sleeves from its shirt and the legs from its pants. He then sat down beside the thrashing human and spent the next hour carefully stitching them to his own clothes, extending his limbs even more. By the time he was finished, the points of his hood scraped the top of the mushrooms, letting down a shower of spores that glittered in the air like glowing sparks.
"Thank you," he said to the dying human, eyeing its exposed limbs as they slowly lost their strength and fell limp. "Your limbs are quite nice. Would you mind if I kept them? They'll be quite useful for someone, I'm sure."
He waited politely for the human to refuse, but it did not. Satisfied that he'd tried his best, Foxgloves pulled a long, thin knife from his coat and began to cut. First one leg came off, and then the other. The arms were next, followed by a selection of other body parts that came off easily and fit nicely into his pockets. He finished with the tongue, expecting to find it swollen. Thankfully, it seemed to be in perfect shape. Perhaps it had been the throat that swelled up and blocked the voice. Regardless, Foxgloves now found himself in possession of quite a number of new parts for sale, all quite fresh. The clothes he'd taken were quite fetching as well, and seemed to bear some sort of eight-pointed star sigil with an eye in the middle. Foxgloves decided that he quite liked it, and wished that he could whistle as he loped off into the shadowy maze of mushrooms. All in all, it had been his favorite sort of day: a productive one. If only he could be so lucky every day.
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