>>6069316Her fully visible shape jitters as she tears at her face, her hair, disappearing with a <span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-r">SHRIIEEEK</span></span></span> that goes right through you. The <span class="mu-i">jitters</span> of that; so muggerfuggen <span class="mu-g"><span class="mu-i">weird</span></span>. hr-rr-rr-rr. <span class="mu-i">nnyrh</span>. Ugly. Ugly Bad.
You wait, as does your Seafood (he's never seen anyone dare this before), but nothing happens.
You puff your chest a bit and dare a swagger.
"I did alright, en Boss?" You almost flinch, catching yourself. Seafood wants to be called Seafood. Not Boss. Shit.
But he's... smiling? One side of his mouth is fully up; the other is indifferent, his usual dedder face.
"Perhaps your unworthy old Shifu should be the one to call you Boss. Go to sleep. And turn your filthy asshole away from me when you fart, disgusting demon midget."
You're...surprised! Pleased! Your awful and terrible Seafood thinks you're BOSS! He called you a muhhfuggn DEMON!
You are on the muhhfuggn <span class="mu-b">YESNESS EXPRESS</span>!!!
>YEEEEAAAASSS!>DANK YEW YOUNG SEAFOOD!>GOOD NIGHTY! GOOOOD NIGHTY!>YEEEAAAAAAHHH!!!"FOOL! GO ABED AND QUIET OR I WILL ENSURE YOU NEVER WAKE UP!"
>ssss>Yas Seafood>(fuggn bugghole)******
youve gone and done it now, you based and monstrous bastards [UNWORLDLY MATRIMONY]
[ <span class="mu-r">YOU HAVE REALLY FUGGEN DONE IT] </span> ]
>basedanons roll 1d1000 vs YOUr dysfunctional marriage DC700, average of 3.******
>distance to Derreschston 7 days>rolled 8 days to next encounter>Yang Wuhan still requires 77 LM to secure his Pall Body>Yang Wuhan freekills 1LM worth of living things per 3 days>two days since the last freekill have passed>7 days = 3 more freekills>77 - 3 = 74 LM>38days - 7days = 31 days leftYou make on towards Plague Town meeting no other persons. Market Day doesn't seem to get good traffic any more, looks like.
Seafood makes you pull the cart in Carrionpede stances and movements. It's hard and slow going, and Seafood is always lounging on the driver's seat, pointing out your faults in posture, niggling little things, and whacking you on the back with a little whip he made for the purpose.
wht-tsh
"Hips! Lower! Palms close cheeks! Elbow narrow!"
...wht-tsh!
"Lower still! Rape the ground! Ah-ah! Knees OFF!" s-tsh!
This goes on through the dark hours as you trundle that fuggen wagon through gaps between the trees.
And you still have to scrounge your own food, and you still have to do the Ceremony, even when your hands and toes are bloody and numb. At one point you were so exhausted you just collapsed in a faint.
Seafood lifts your crotchflaps and crams some (<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-g">nyaaak</span></span>) medicine in your bugghole, and that wakes you up to continue suffering.
You have the worst life ever, you and you alone and no one else ever. Nothing can convince you otherwise.
Ever.
