Cookboi

Brimstone nodded gratefully before promptly collapsing into a pile of ferns.

Brimstone stifled a yawn as the sky-blue male crossed her sights. ”Ruta fell asleep just a bit ago. Do you think someone else could take second watch?”

You slip into a uneasy doze, drifting from nightmare to nightmare. One was of a nicheling dying in your paws, another was of your son’s disgusted face. But the worst one of all? Meadow’s terrified expression as she was swallowed over and over again by the killer plant, shrieking for help that couldn’t be delivered.

The scent of blood and rot hit you like a bag of stones the moment you turned around.

(You realize they can’t hear you-) The moment the words leave your mouth, the forest begins to melt around you as you slip into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hiss. “It made us stronger before!” The female hissed “why would it start killing us now?” ”I don’t know, Nutmeg. I don’t know.”

Your eyelids begin to feel heavy.

(I QUOTED THE WRONG THING FFFFCGCNGDFDTJRSTNDSRTRSHTESTJYTKUYUYTU-)

(@Chiyanna Meadow and Terracotta are heading back to camp)

Although it was quite dark, you could see that there was nothing else in the hole.

She thought Prisidon was supposed to be here.. Kirlur scanned the area, searching for her brother. She had just looked away for a minute.. You could hear faint footsteps. Prisidon?

Although you didn’t see any food, you did manage to find a small gap in the roots of a nearby tree.

The male opened his scream something else, before a pale brown nicheling lifted paw to touch his shoulder. ”The war is over, they’ll find a cure.” She soothed. ”If it’s possible,” another voice added. “it’s not like anything else makes sense about this ‘disease’.”

Your paw slipped right through him as he continued to sob and squirm. But, now that you were focusing on him, you realized that he was trying to say something. ”They’re gonna kill me... they’re gonna find me... THEY'RE ALREADY HERE!”

You nearly stepped on a yellow male, who was shrieking and writhing like he was being attacked by an invisible enemy.

(You’re lucky that Terracotta is pretty chill and probably wouldn’t tell. Anyways, we’ll have to wait for Chiyanna to continue.)

(It’s ominously prophetic dream time! Ps: you can see) You were in a clearing, surrounded by wheezing, gasping nichelings. Most of the nichelings had small, grayish, “plants” painfully bursting out of their skin. The smell of death and decay was so strong you could taste it.

Terracotta nodded, but his eyes were doubtful. ”The group should be just past those trees...”

Welcome!

(Background, actual gameplay will have pictures. I plan to do two more of these to cover all the other characters.)

I’m okay with whatever, too.

Day 0 - Flashfoot & Oak The spotted male’s pace had slowed from terrified sprint to a limping trot as the steppingstones scraped his pads raw. Maybe I deserve this... Flashfoot thought dismally, wincing as he stepped on the freezing stones. Flashfoot lifted his paw in preparation to make the next step, but instead of frigid rock it was... Grass... Flowers... Soil... Flashfoot looked up. Frostbitten grasses neatly edged the ports and wind whistled through the evergreens, howling eerily. Flashfoot let out a sigh of relief, and collapsed against the ports with a pant. He spread his fingers, carefully examining the pinkish-red cracks that traced his palms. And then a horrible, ear-piercing shrill hit him. For a paralyzing moment, Flashfoot was frozen with fear. His skin felt hot-yet-cold at the same time, and his heart was was thundering so fast he thought it would burst out of his chest. But, the longer he listened, he realized that it didn’t quite sound like a hungry bearyena readying itself to tear him apart. It sounded like...crying...? A cub crying, to be more exact. Good. Flashfoot thought, relieved. It’s parents will come along and everything will be fine again. Flashfoot lifted his (now trembling) paw and resumed examining it. Still, there was something...off...about the wails. They sounded more like pleas for help then a fussy child. It’s none of your business anyway. Flashfoot thought firmly, ignoring the familiar twist of guilt in his belly. Still, something deep inside of his bones, made him rise to his paws. Whatever attacked it will be nearby! What if it’s a predator trying to lure you in?! What if- Flashfoot’s mind shrilled so loudly that it felt like someone was yelling it right in his ear. But even if his legs felt like they were going to give out beneath him, he still, quivering step by quivering step, made his way into the forest. Every muscle in Flashfoot’s body screamed for him to run away, but the progressively louder shrieks kept him on course. The sharp tang of nicheling blood hit his nose, and Flashfoot recoiled with such terror his bones might as well of jumped out of his skin and hid under the nearest boulder for the next month. Flashfoot reached out a shaking paw to push away the next patch of grass and- Oh. The patch of grass lead into a small, snowcapped clearing. In the center of the clearing, a brown (or at least he seemed to brown, considering all the dry blood caked into his fur.) cub lay, sobbing softly. Vicious talon marks were slashed across his shoulders and one leg was bent at an odd angle. How does one interact with children again? Particularly injured ones? “Uh...what’s your name? Mine’s Flashfoot.” The cub let out a yelp of surprise before returning to his senses and whimpering: “O-oak...” “Do you think I can carry you?” “T-o were?” The question hit like a bag of rocks. To be honest, Flashfoot didn’t exactly have a plan of what to do after he saved the cub. “To the ports,” Flashfoot responded, hoping he sounded more confident then he was. “Do you think I can carry you?” “Maybe...” Oak murmured, attempting to stand. He looked steady at first, but then his twisted leg buckled beneath him and he yelped with pain. ”I guess we don’t have much of a choice.” Flashfoot said, dipping his head down to scoop up Oak. Oak yapped in his jaws for a bit, before settling down for the long trek back to the shore.

At first it was barely noticeable. Colder days, a chill wind. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then came the frost, and with it came famine. Most tribes survived, although it was becoming concerning. And then came the snow. And then came the blizzards. And then came the whiteouts. And soon enough, entire tribes were dropping like flies. But even in the desolate wastelands it left behind, pockets of warmth still existed, just hot enough to cultivate life, even for a short while... Welcome to the Ice Age!

@Polly @Polly @Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly @Polly @Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly@Polly @Polly@Polly

BEHOLD THE BEAN