Member
-- GOOD ME.
Nerdinn makes his supererogatory mutterings to himself in a tongue indistinct while rolling a ring between two fingers; it is indeterminable how he manages a survey of the scene of waltzing chaos, the black hood obscuring his face. That is until factoring in omnipresence, though this deity in-particular is resigned to myopia -- content with it. These are all very ordinary organisms, considering, but they are absolutely losing their minds -- subtle in the surrounding bustle and din of the tavern, unmistakable to the many-eyed god whose satisfaction in the matter was immense.
"Good tidingshh fellow individualshh," goes the cloaked and legless Nerdinn in his closest imitation of speech. He is approximate to the head of the table, but addresses the group as a whole, incapable of singling out a sorry specimen: "Might I join your company tempowawily? Thishh tavern ishh quite cwoded."
He gestures to a chair, recently made empty.
154 words - ft. Nerdinn, Malevolent God of Nosiness.