Recent Statuses

3 days ago
Current Another scorcher... And I'm melting...
5 days ago
Don't you just LOVE when co-workers don't show up for their shift, without giving any notice at all, on the busiest and most hectic day of thw week?
6 days ago
The beating doesn't stop when you're dead, it stops when I'm not angry anymore
12 days ago
I want snow
16 days ago
What be inside box? Sweets or treats or socks?


I work at a grocery store.
Weekdays I'm usually online from around 3:00 PM, GMT+1/CET.
Weekends I'm usually online from around 10:00 AM GMT+1/CET.
My Steam name is the same as here, so if you want to add me and chat, go right ahead.

I do anime-roleplay, and nothing else.

Most Recent Posts

Brandy pouted as Sofia crushed her dreams with cruel reality when she demonstrated how, in fact, an arrow-head could not be used as a lockpick to open doors. Her ears stood almost straight up, like those on a bunny, when Alice unleashed the wrath of luminence upon the padlock via her new, om-the-spot, alchemical substance of DOOM. And, luckily for the satyr, who was noq squatting down over the melted metal ex-lock, she was stopped by Alice's warning about not touching the damn thing before she could poke the smoldering remains out of curiosity, recoiling in abject fear of the sheer terror of imagening one of her delicate and exquisite fingers being melted off like warmed butter.

"W-well! Anyways, good job, Al!" Brandy finally stated, having now stood back up and brushed the vivid imagery of de-fingering from her mind. "Let's head inside and find the bad guy! Or gal. Or thing. We hafta avenge that boner-guy!" She exclaimed, pumping her fist into the air, having seemingly or conveniently forgotten that said bony man met his demise at her own hand rather than that of some nefarious mastermind.

Pushing the vaulted metal door open, Brandy was the first to enter the mausoleum. Doing so also caused her to start coughing and sneezing and shaking her head like a dog trying to dry its coat after getting wet. The interior of the tiny crypt-hut was... Dusty... To say the least. Layer upon layer of caked, ancient and dry-as-phuck dust lay prevalent all about. On the floor, walls, cracks of the walls, atop the sarcophagi, the statue at the very back and the memorial urns on the concaved and vaulted shelf-indentations on the walls. After having sputtered and frantically brushed her face and head free from the initial onslaught of dust, the satyr turned to her two allies still outside the door.

"This place sucks! Whoever's in charge of keeping things clean is a total slacker. Jeez, it's so dusty and moldy and miserable, who'd ever wanna be dead in an awful place like this!?" She whined, outraged at having been dirtied by the dirty and dank locale.

As she continued to bemoan the crappy conditions of the crypt, Brandy wasn't exactly paying attention to her surroundings. Apart from a pair of large, lying stone sarcophagi at the center of the room inside, there was also a statue off to the very back - probably a statue of some protective god or something of the departed. There were a total of eight urns, four on one wall and four on the other, mirror almost to a T. There were wall-sconces, but they weren't lit, so the only light that came into the place was from the now-open doorway. Other than this, the place was rather dull - tiled stone floor, brickworkk walls, bricked ceiling amd apart form the pots made of - what seemed to be - brass, everything else was just grey.

Obviously, the more important detail of course, was that there didn't seem to be anyone or anything inside the mausoleum. No person or creature of the darkness, no wicked or manically laughing lunatic who praised them for discovering their contrived plot.. Just a dusty, empty room. Surely there had to be something inside though? Othwerwise, Alice's death magic-detection-sludge would have had to be classed as faulty! But that didn't seem like it was very likely. No, more likely was that there was more to this drab place than one could first see.

After having finished the ramblings, the tanned and buxom goat-girl proceeded to, carelessly, march straight into the center of the cryptorium and start touching absolutely everything with zero regard for whoever was laid to rest in either urn or large stone coffin. Poking and smudging and smelling and sneezing-on... Yup... No vvampire-sneezes either. Full-on, non-covering-the-mouth sneezes... Any man of the cloth who saw this would likely have branded her a blasphemous and heretical sacrilege on two legs for the blatant disrespect towards the deceased.

"So, uh... Al, Sofers? What're we 'spose to be looking for in here? i don't see anyone evil around..."
Brandy's cute little goat-ears didn't stop being droopy, even after Alice explained the situation with rationality and law-abiding technobabble. Probably because the satyr didn't know what a crusader was to begin with, or why whatever it was gave people the right to undo undead. Still, after the werewolf had made the miniature marker of martyrdom to the departed deadman, Brandy wqas respectful enough to clasp her hands together and offer up a silent little prayer. Or perhaps she was just imitating what she'd seen others do at funerals? Who could really say.

After her alchemist-ally proceeded to mix the group up the little container of negative energy-tracking goop, the trio would meander about the swmap for a bit. Ironically, as they wandered about the boggy wetland, they soon came to the realization that the reaction got stronger whenever they were walking in the direction of the graveyard they'd come from earlier.

"Looks like that sludge gets darker when we like, get back towards the graves and stuff. Let's head back, girls!" Brandy suggested, very gung-ho about finding the culprit who had revived Mr. Chesterwood, probably so she could give them an earful.

On the little satyress' sugggestion, they made their way back to the spot where they'd started - Brandy helping Sofia out of the swamp, which was oddly thoughtful and considerate of her... Or perhaps she just didn't want to risk losing another undead citizen of the world today. Still though, as they entered the gorunds and poked about, they noticed something. Whenever they got close to the big, locked-up maousoleum at the center of the cemetery, the goopy beacon Alice had made went almost completely pitch black. This would insinuate that whatever had brought back the gentleman of bones was somewhere inside.

... But wait...

"Huh? Al, you sure this thingymuhwhatsit's actually workin'? I mean, it's gloomin' up a storm near this big ol' house here, but like... There's a big lock... And chains... On the outside! How the heck're we 'spose to get inside a place that's all locked up tighter than am overprotective father's daughter's virginity!? Oh, wait! I know!" The satyr bemoaned, but then came to haved an idea in that empty head of hers. "Sofers! You got arrows! You can like, stick'em in and twist'em around and jerk'em a lil', right? Kinda like a key, but not a key, yeah?" Brandy bobbed up and down on her hoofy heels, excited about her lockpick-idea... Which was completely ridiculous, since Sofia's arrows would likely not work at all.. Or even fit inside the keyhole for that matter.

They could always ask the charming gravekeeper for the key, but somehow that seemed as an unlikely avenue of approach, given his earlier disposition. They could probably havve Alice blow up the padlock and chains though! ... Albeit that may cause a whole heap of other problems in the future... Likely the only reason Brandy hadn't suggested that was because she still had a bit of a negative outlook on the bombs, given that Alice collapsed the last time she'd used one.
After summarily shattering the skull of the suspiscious skeletal stalker, Brandy felt her chest swell with prid and her eyes twikled with the fire of excitement. Finmally. Finally she had taken her first step to become a true adventurer! Having vanquished an evil, nefarious and possibly lecherous creature of the living dead - forgetting entirely that Sofia was one too - was sure to put her on the right track to reaching the stars and beyond!

... Wait... Bawling? What was going on here!?

After hearing the cries of Alice, and watching her companion dive into the gunky muck to rescue the crumbling bones of the clobbered culprit, Brandy couldn't help but stand still and confused for a bit. The satyress had been so lost in her own thoughts and her own brilliance that she'd sort of zoned out for a bit... Or, for a good while actually...

Still, when her werewolf friend started crying about how the now re-deceased skeleton was a gentleman, or had been one, and Sofia turned to her and stated that she may have made a mistake... Well, let's just say that the busty babe of a satyr suddenly felt a veritable mix of emtoions. These included confusion, bewilderment, fear, anxiety, hunger, bafflement and an icy chill running down her spine. Her goaty ears drooped down and she looked at the spiky club in her hand, which ironically still had fragments of Phil's skull stuck in it. Then, a realization dawened on Brandy as she watched Alice mourn the bones of the fallen. The satyress dropped the club to the ground, placed both her hanmds against her chin to try and cover her mouth, and began frantically swaying back and forth, side to side, in quick, spastic movements, while all the while going:

"OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!OhMyGods!" Her eyes had shrunk down and she'd gone a bit pale, despite her really nice tan. After a few minutes of these shennanigans, Brandy suddenly snapped to attention, turned to Sofia, grabbed the undead's shoulders with an iron grip, stared into the eyes of her ally, and with a face that screamed: WHAT HAVE I DONE?! she spoke in a horse and wuncharacteristically stammering voice.

"So-So-So-So-Sofers! I mu-mu-mu-mu-murderized him! I c-c-c-clobberkilled Al's b-b-b-boyfriend! Wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-whaaa! What should I do?! I'm a c-c-c-criminal now! A criminal! A bandit! A thug!! A bad guy! I'm gonna end up in jail and get whipped and forced to do all sorts of things for the other prisoners! Waah!"

She was... Very upset... To say the least...

As for Master Philip Jay Matthew Chesterwood Esquire... Well, despite Alice's best intents adn efforts to re-assemble him, it was kinda hard to maintain an existence without a head. And given that most of his skull had been unceremoneously shattered and caved in by a certain zealous satyr savior, there wasn't really any chance of him suddenly getting back up, dusting himself off and making a cheesy one-liner like: "Back from the dead, baby!". No, not at all. He was well and truly dead. For realsies this time.
As previously, the well-mannered man of bone did neither interject nor intercede when Alice spoke. Instead he listened, periodically shifting his weight a bit, causing his calcium-rich frame to creak a bit. As the werewolf concluded her words though, the gentleskeleton gave a cordial and elegant bow in resposnse.

"My sincere gratitude for such a compliment. If your companions are half as charming as yourself, I am certain that it will be an absolute delight to meet with them." He replied in eloquent manner.

... Of course, the poor skeleton was unaware of just who was among Alice's companions...

Speaking of...

As the pair of satyr and undead came sloshing through the mucky bog, Brandy muttered something about how she should've worn her labor leotard instead of her good, white shirt. Luckily, there didn't seem to any gunk or mud had managed to get onto her attire just yet... Probably because she was carrying Sofia in her arms and the undead woman was acting sort of like a stain-shiled...

Still, as soon as the archer in her arms perked up and announced that Alice was in danger, Brandy's focus immediately returned from the realm of self-centered mutterings. Seeing the gunk and mud-covered figure approach her friend from behind, a chill ran down the satyress' back and she gasped, almost dropping Sofia in the process. Luckily she didn't. Instead, as soon as she felt Sofia's cold hand push the spiked club towards her own hand, the satyr nodded and quickly jogged - as quickly as one can move in muck - to a small, isolated patch of grass. There, she quickly plonked her friend down, telling her stay put.

Then, with wooden blunt instrument in hand, she turned towards the infenral creature of the abyss that was sneaking up on her precious ally, narrowed her eyes and let out a lloud, thundering war cry.


Splutter, splutter, splosh, splash, splish, splutter!

Running through a mucky swamp wasn't easy, though it was made slightly less cumbersome due to how goat-hooves were made. Rushing as fast as her legs could carry her, Brandy approached the evil assailant and her ally with surprising speed. The poor skeleton, however, who was completely innocent in all of this, merely turned his head and was able to let out a confused: What-ho? before a cylindric wooden club adorned with many sharp spikes connected with his fragile skull, and promptly smashed it into a hundred thousand itty bitty tiny pieces.

The skeleton's body shuddered from the impact of the blow, before comedically collapsing where it stood, like a house of card crashing down under its own weight and instability. The bones and clothes of the reanimated gentleman fell into the muddy waters with soft sploshes and splashes, before allw as silent except for the noise of bog-bugs and distant birds. Breathing heavily, Brandy let out a relieved sigh, wiping her forehead and then wading her way over to Alicve.

"Whew! That was close, Al. You needa be more careful, yeah? That creepty ghoul-guy was sneaking up on ya, probably to get a grope at yer tush! Lucky me and Sofers got here just in time." Brandy explained, triumphantly puffing out her chest while pointing with her fre thumb at herself, then at Sofia abandoned on the little grass-patch a ways back.

"So, uh..." Brandy looked around in the swampy swamp. "... Found anything? Doesn't look like theere's much here, huh? Well, whatever. We should head back. This place got some stank to it, yeech! And Sofers ain't exactly waterproof, maa-haa-haa~!"

It appeared the satyr was fully convinced that she'd just rescued her friend from a potential molester, and was feeling no shame or remorse over her actions just now. At all.
The skeletal gentleman listened intently and cordially to what the werewolf had to say. He neither interrupted nor interjected and waited patiently for her to finish speaking. Once it was clear why she was here, what she was doing and what she wanted, the dapper skeleton placed a throughtful, boney hand against his shiny, blank chin and tapped it ponderously with a dainty boney finger.

[color=silver]"If herbs and plants for the creation of concoctions are what you seek, may I suggest looking over there, Miss Alice?"[/colro] The undead man made a sweeping motion with his free arm towards a particular area of the swampy swamp. A small patch of elevated ground, surrounded by the boggy bog, with a water-logged willow tree and a fallen log, sat alone like an island in the ocean. "A lot of the rarer plants and fungus grow there, as that place is a bit out of reach and thus, nobody ever bothers to forage there." He politely informed, before going on. "But as to strange goings-on, I'm afraid I cannot say. The last thing I recall before being awakened just now was a .. Hmm... I suppose you could call it a shiver? Or perhaps a unpleasat twinge? I do recall that the sky was dark when it happened, and it cannot have eben too too long ago. It felt like someone was trying to... Hm... Grip my mind, if that makes any sense? Apologies, I'm not much help at all it seems." The skeletal sir explained, told and apologized.

Apparently, it seemd that he didn't have any specific details or information. but he did give at least one tid-bit of information. Someone had been up to something at night, or so it would seem at least. And whatever that someone had been doing, it was strong, or specific, enough to have had an impact and reaction to this poor, submerged gentleman of the quiet wetlands.


"Jeez, Sofers! I told yoooouuuuu! Ghosts don't live in swampy bogs or marshes. They hang out in haunted houses, or old crypts. Or under your bed. Or in your closet. Gah! Enough 'bout that, now you've got me worried about, Al!" Brandy bemoaned, chiding her comapnion.

Then a proverbial candle lit up above Brandy's head. It seemed the tiny satyr had had an epiphany ! Though in the case of this specific individual, that likely wasn't a good thing.

And it wasn't.

"Well, if you're gonna sink and fall apart if ya step in the muck, the answer's obvious, yeah? Upsy-daisy! Wow, you're lighter than I thought. Maa-haa-haa~!"

In one swift movement, without asking permission, Brandy had scooped the undead archer up into her arms, and was now holding her cold-blooded corpse-companion in her arms, princess-carry style. Good things Brandy was a farm-girl and some strength in those supple arms of hers! Or, not so good, if you were Sofia, who was now being carried around like a newly-wed bride being carried over the threshold...

"Well, let's go find Al, 'kay?" Brandy said, tilting her head and with a huge smile on her face...

Then she leapt over the graveyard fence, and started sprinting at full speed - with the carried Sofia in her arms - towarsd the south and the bog, all the while calling out in an elongated fashion: "We're coming Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal!' As the sound of hooved hoofs clapped on grass, the sound eventually changed to more wet and spluttery noises, as the terrtain changed from grassy field to mucky, watery and wet mud and goopy dirt.

"Aw jeez, I dun wanna get any of this muck on my shirt... Hey, Sofers! Could you like, fold the lower part of my shirt up a bit? I dun wanna stain it, thanks.." Brandy requested, not stopping at all to make the task any easier or more do-able... And was she really asking Sofia to partially strip her right there and then? Clearly, no shame at all.
"Huh? Wasn't she with you, Sofers? Jeez, I tell you. Take your eyes off that girl for a second and she just goes ahead and runs off to who-knows-where." Brandy said and sighed, putting her hands on her hips and looking mock-exhausted as she answered Sofia. Either she was just teasing Alice for her penchant to run around, or she was trying to deflect her own proclivity to the do the exact same thing. "But uh... Yeah, so the grassy grass ain't got nothing, huh? Guess we'd better get our booties over to that swampy area and make sure Al hasn't sunk into the muck or something." Brandy continued, jumping off the tombstone she had been previosuly balancing ontop of while speaking with her undead friend.


As Alice happily rummaged around the small bog and picked her fungi and flora, she was not privvy to certain events unfolding in the murky, mucky waters behind her. At first, a couple of ripples, as if someone had thrown a pebble and disturbed the water, was all that could be seen. Soon though, the water began to move, and eventually out of the relative shallow depths, a figure emerged! It was covered in vines and weeds and gunk and was just not aesthetically pleasing to look at. But it made no sound, no noise, and because it moved so slow and didn't make any sudden or large, excessive moments, it didn't disturb the water in the bog all that much as it advanced. Stepping out of the stagnant pond, the creature was ... Well, honestly it was human-sized... And as it walked towards Alice's back, more and more of the wet weeds and vegetation fell off of it.

As it stood behind Alice while she now kneeling down and happily picking mushrooms from a patch growing on a rotting log, the creature opened its mouth and...

"Greetings, young lady..." An unexpectedly calm, collected and gentlemanly voice escaped from the being. As Alice would turn around, in whatever way she chose to do so, she would come face to face with the mysterious being at last!

... Disappointingly, the swamp-monster turned out to be nothing more than your run-of-the-mill skeleton. True, he wore a fancy suit, complete with red bow tie, but otherwise... He wasn't the great or mysterious Monster of the Boggy Lagoon one would've perhaps wished for. Though, fortunately for Alice, or perhaps more for his own sake - seeing as he was made out of bone and she was a werewolf - he didn't seem to have any hostile intent at all. His eyeless sockets just kept looking at the young woman before him. His face was very hard to read. Probably becausse, y'know, he didn't actually have a face.

"What might a lovely young lady such as yourself being doing in a place like this...?" He asked, again with that suave, gentlemanly voice that seemed to belong to a middle-aged dandy.
"Maa-haa-haaAAAAAHHH!!" Brandy's happy laughing at having scared Sofia was decidedly interrupted when the undead woman turned on his heel and fired an artrow. An arrow that, with only the power of plot armor, managed toa void Brandy's face with not but a scant distance that was uncomfortably close. "H-hey! it was just a lil' prank, Sofers! Jeez! Way to nearly face-blast me." The satyress complained, puffing her cheeks up and looking indignant, as if she'd done absolutely nothing wrong and was in no way, shape or form guilty or at fault for anything. She did scratch her lower forearm a bit when she saw Sofia harumph off in a huff though, perhaps feeling just a twingey smidegeon of guilt? Or perhaps her arm was just itchy.


After this exchange, Brandy joined Sofia in the spectator-seats as the two watched Alice deal with Mr. Handsome. At the sight of the man plucking a small bug from his own person, then shoving it into his mouth and eating with a crunch, the satyr made a gagging noise and nearly reeled backwards.

"Gah! What's with this creept, gross, uggly, nasty guy!? He's just yucky all over!" She, not too discreetly, blurted out in response to the vule act of buyg-munching she'd just born witness too. At Sofia's comment about Alice though, Brandy merely chuckled - once she'd recovered from being grossed out - and patted her archer-friend on the shoulder. "Didn't ya know, Sofers? Alice's the greatest ball-buster in the lands! If she got serious, that thing wouldn't stand a chance! She did manage to keep her head though, yeah? We should praise her when she comes over. Maybe rub her tum-tum?" The tanned buxom wench commented and suggested, tapping her chin with an index-finger as if she was debating or deciding on something of grand importance.

Once the troglodyte was well and good enough out of the way, and amany feet away, Brandy rejoined Alice's side. By glomping onto the werewolf's back and nuzzling the latter's neck with her face.

"Good job, Al! You're always so dependable! So, so? What'd he say? What're we looking for and doing and stuff? Nothing to or with him, I hope? I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, reeeeaaaaaally don't wanna touch him..." She asked and assured, before being informed by her friend about the absolute nothing that had been relayed in terms of information. "Ah... So, he's not only gross and ugly and rude, but useless to? Gotcha. ... Hmm... Guess I'll just snoop around and see what I can see! Hollar if ya find somethin' girlfriends!" Brandy sage-nodded and skipped off in a bouncy fashion, which made certain torso-mounted objects also bounce... Luckily nobody except the girls were really around to see it this time.

Brandy's snooping could best be described as her going from one gravemarker to the next, and standing on top of it. She even tried to scale onto the maousoleum's roof at one point, but the brickwork proved an unsuitable surface to try and scale vertically without proper gear... And so she failed. Which led to her falling onto her rump. Which subsequently led to her giving the wall of the building a kick. Which led to her jumping around on one leg, holding her hoof and swearing as apparently stone was tougher than satyr hoof.

Leaving aside the antics of certain brainless bimbos for the time being though...

Apart from the small markings on some of the gravestones and the disturbed soil ontop of some, there really wasn't much else around of note. North of the cemetary was the small road they'd used to get here from Gnarlton to the west. Though further north there seemed to be a shrubland of sorts, filled with.. Shrubs... And bushes... ANd knee-high grass that was likely riddled with ticks. To the east of the burial site, the terrain shifted slightly to a mix of sparse woodlands and low hills. And to the south, there seemed to be, eventually, some kind of bog or wetland of sorts, complete with ctatails and frogs and... wetness... That was a ways off though, so the graveyard was in no danger of being waterlogged or sinking.

"FIND ANYTHING YET!"" A random yell from Brandy broke the otherwise silent and solemn silence that hung over the cemetary. She yelled this while balancing on the eastern-most stone fence - on one leg - of the graveyard, waving her hand energetically at the other two girls.
The graveyard, as it were, was a dull sight. Apart form the fenced-in area where the numerous tombstones and gravemarkers were, there wasn't really much to the place. The old, weatherworn stone fence was cracked and crumbling in several places, as well as having vines and moss vying to conquer it for their own. The graves ranged from modest or minimalistic headstones, to elaborate statues or busts. The only really notewrothy things were two locations on the premises.

The first was an old mausoleum. At the very cneter of the graveyard, this lone little stone structure stood out like a sore thumb. It's red-tiled roof and stone brickwork looked to be of decent qualality and sturdy make, but not enough so to make it the resting-place for any noteworthy nobility. Most likely, it was the resting place of a well-to-do merchant family or other influential high-profile commoners. But regardless of who it belonged to, the fact stood taht there was a large, heavy and imposing-looking dark iron door sealing the place shut. Complete with criss-crossed chains and a padlock that was the size of bulldog. Needless to say, unless there was another way in, the girls would have more luck getting inside by blowing up one of the walls with the help of Alice's concoctions, rather than trying to get that slab of steel to yield.

The second location was a small, rutty and squalid-looking shack, off some feet to the southwest of the grabeyard-proper. This eyesxore was run-down, dirty and in real bad shape, complete with most likely a leaky roof, grime-covered windows, paint so faded you couldnä't tell what color it once was, and an overgrown 'yard' surrounding the place... Though it was more looking like a thicket or mini-weald at this point. Other than these two structures though, the place had pretty much nothing that stood out at all. Maybe a tree or two that cast a bit of shade, and a few crows perched atop the stone markers and cawing ominously, but that was about it.

Brandy, having placed her arms behind her head as if she was lying down in a bed while standing up, was busying herself with a leisurely stroll through the rows and columns of tombstones. Her eyes lazily swept across the dull, empty and quiet scenery and whistled in a low and carefree manner. Then she spotted Sofia. Then she spotted Sofia clutching her bow like it was a stuffed toy. Then she heard Sofia repeatedly repeat the same phrase over and over. Then she noticed the mischievous smirk spreading across her own face.

Now, normally, Brandy herself was a bit spooked by them ghosties. However, unlike Sofia, Brandy's fears only extended to the point of being afraid of these ethereal freaks when they were actually present. So, as long as she couldn't see any ghosts, in her simple-minded head, there wasn't any reason to be be scared. You would be forgiven for thinking that, sharing the same fear and anjxiety where these haunting spirits were concenred, Brandy would act in a manner to calm and bond with Sofia over their mutual fear, offer sympathy and grow closer as friends.

... Unfortunately, this is Brandy we're talking about here...

Silencing her whistling and carefully maneuvering herself in such a way as to begin approaching from behind the undead archer, Brandy smirked. Tip-toeing on her soft hooves, she slowly but sureoly approached the on-edge Sofia from behind. Step by step, breath by breath, Brandy's cheeks were flushed with the tinge of red from her excitement at pranking her poor partner. And then, as she was mere feet away...

"OoOoOOOooOooooOooh~!!Give us your bloooOOoOOoOOOoOOoOod~!"

Brandy's voice was altered to sound like some kind of mix between an elderly woman and the Count from Sesame Street... Apparently her knowledge of ghosts, despite her fear of them, was a bit lacking...

Meanwhile, as Alice was sniffing around the graveyard, she'd find a few things. For once, some of the graves seemed to have been either recently filled, or otherwise disturbed, as they were covered in soil, and not grown-over with grass like many of the others. Furthemore, there were marks and signs of dragging or pushing something along the ground at various spots, most notably at the parts of the fence where there were gaps of parts large enough for a person to pass through. Finally, on some of the tombstones there were a strange mark, like an' x' carved into the lower corner. You wouldn't notice it was there if you just casucally looked at the gravestone, but if you examined it closely, you'd notice that the mark was clearly made intentionally, and not a naturally result of time or weather.

The werewolf could then hear a soft clanging and banging coming from the small shack off to the side of the graveyard. Followed by muffled shouting and an agitated voice. Followed by the door swinging open and... Someone... emerging from within the sad excuse of a home. It was a man! ... or... Was it? Maybe it was a dwarf? It was hard to tell, as he was quite short... But he lacked the trademark beard of the short-folk... In fact, he looked very odd.

"Woah! That's one ugly fella!" Brandy exclaimed as she caught a glimpse of the approaching... Person...

And while her comment may have lacked tact and common courtesy, the fact of the matter was, there really wasn't any other word to describe this poor bloke. He was a short thing, about four and half foot tall, he suffered from a case of really bad hunchback, with a large hump and his head almost looking like it was situated on his chest rather than a proper neck. His skin was pasty and pale, his hair was a mess of black, greasy and unwashed lumps of black, matte tangles. One of his eyes was bulging and nearly popping out of its socket, the size ofa golf ball, while the other was sunken in and small, like an average green pea. His nose looked like it'd been broken several times, his legs were skinny but his arms were stocky, and his attire consisted of grey. Just grey. Grey pants. Grey tunic. Grey cloak. Grey, dirt-covered shoes. He had a bit of an overbite, and his teeth didn't seem to be able to agree on what direction to point, choosing instead to each take a unique oritentation... It kinda looked like he'd tried to bit a brick at some point thanks to that. But, as you can tell, this poor man...thing... wasn't exactly photogenic.

"Whass'is?! Whass'is!? Who're you'suns? You's no 'ere to be buried! Wha'choos doinä with muh graves!?" ... His voice was as unpleasant as his appearance, sounding like the guy was trying to gargle gravel or marbles while speaking in a coarse but agitated way. He was holding a shovle... Was he the culprit!? ... Or maybe the gravekeeper? OR BOTH!?

Brandy let out a surprisingly cute-sounding noise when Sofia tugged at her horns. Apparently she hadn't been expecting that, and once the two girls had seperated from their friendly, behind-the-store hug, the satyress gently rubbed her own head-protusions and gave Sofia a questioning glance.

"Sofers, these're attached, y'know? I know they're 'totes rockin' and stylin', but you can't have 'em." The little tanned satyress said, pouting and folding her arms over her plump chest, before snickering. Obviously she was just making a silly a joke.

After complimenting Sofia's sewing skills to the point that it was almost getting umcomfortable, she spent a few minutes helping the undead girl figure out the 'best' way to improve and make alterations to their outfits. Although to be fair, the one that got the most attention and revisions belonged to Alice... For some reason the duo was very keen on having the werewolf apothecary dress in a similar fashion to themselves... Perhaps it was so they'd all 'match'? Who could say. They both might just be pervs and wanting to see a certain alchemist covered by less fabric.

At the southern gate, Brandy bobbed up and down on her hooves as she listened to the exchange between her compatriots. When the issue of health and regulations for her outfit were brought up, Brandy laughed, bounced over to the werewolf's side and gave her a shy friend a few pats on the back.

"Maa-haa-haa~! Don't worry, Al. We can always make you a really cute aptorn to wear when you're doing that mix-y wix-y stuff of yours! Oh, I was the one who decided on what type of lingerie that'd go along with the new threads!" There was no way that Brandy would've picked something non-scandalous, so Alice would probably do best in ushering the party to leave for their quest, less she wish to see more sketches and illustrations of herself in various moments of undress.

Some shennaningans later...

Back on the road, though this time heading east. Just like with the southern path to Litroot though, this 'road' was more of a wide dirt path, rather than a proper one. Still, it worked well enough for walking. On their journey, the girls would meet a few stray travellers who either greeted them briefly, or who hurried past them. At one point a wagon pulled by a horse lazily rolled by, and the elderly farmer - wearing a straw hat - offered the girls a ride... Though his toothy grin and caw-ing chuckle was dead-give aways that his motives were less than pure.... So, naturally, Brandy got onto his wagon and proceeded to skull him.

After the pervert had been dealt with, they were bakc on track!

"So, Al. Like, give us the detes on this quest, yeah? We're going to some old grave-thingy? What're we 'spose to do there though? We gonna hunt another one of those bunny-things? I bet Sofers would be awesome at hunting, right? You could just Ptching! Ptching! and the rabbit would be all: 'Aagh, I'm done for!'." Brandy asked, praised and acted, all at once... Making a remarkably deep voice for the supposed rabbit who had been taken down by fictional Sofia.

The day was slowlyu turning into afternoon. More clouds had started to appear in the sky and the temperature seemed to have dropped a little. A slight breeze had picked and as the girls walked along the mostly grassland-y scenery they could hear the chirping of cicadas or grasshaoppers or something in the tall grass. There was the occasional tree, b ush, boulder or other natural landmark, but nothing exciting or out of place. And no slobbering feral trolls either, thank goodness. At this pace, the trio would likely reach their destination in another hour or so.
Brandy Vanillarin's items and equipment-list has been updated.
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