Mother- -FUCKER -Cabin flying over the reader-

//Imma make a character soon using FU from NMH3 as a template but I membered someone had that too. just saying we aint copying.

//Imma make a character soon using FU from NMH3 as a template but I membered someone had that too. just saying we aint copying.

//Isn't this the nikki cat?

Do a flip

Algo habrá hecho

Napping on a turtle.

What the hell//

'Sup.

"... ... ... Ya wanna?"

//WHO THE HELL IS THE ARTIST

Windy is *not* a normal Hare. Are you, [reader], fast enough to touch her?

A whistle. Runes sing through the air as fireflies of magic matter burst around the Knight. Soon. He is at the height of the Dwarf's camp. His chubbier body, is only more clearly strong at this distance. Not so much like a warrior, but a craftsman, used to having ~>

Sure. Gotta cast a resize. Do I shrink ya or grow it?

No, it's vegagnese. Yes it is.

Mpreg? In front of my Bolognese?

//Hey. You do not know me but I just wanna help. Grief is naught but love, persevering. He lives in you. In every memory you've made. In every bond you built.

"Would the *un*dead serve?"

Not really... The Gnome listens. Humming softly. "Any dead?"

"No judgement mate." He bites a pipe. A match lighting a blue flame beneath it, as he puffs off purple smoke rings from his nose. "What's with the curse? You a Vindiigo?"

"So a cannibal." He doesn't even blink. The man's assumption seems, at first. Just an absent-mindedly delivered insult at the man's coyness. But it is moreso a deduction. Their pale appearance, poor posture. All can be consequences of a lack of proper nutrition that could come from cannibalism.

"So you can't eat at all?" He sips the mug, quirking a brow.

//AAAAA THE NORSE MYTHOLOGY CALLS

Calmly munching a sandwich, he's still falling. "I fifn't dew shidd do himb."

It's a fairly fast effect. Perks of magic and Alchemy, as the man shrinks the bottle with a whistle, pouring it into his own tiny mug. "Whatever ya' ate. Stop it man. Can't be worth it."

Calmly munching a sandwich, he's still falling. "I fifn't dew shidd do himb."

He's safe... he's fine... he has landed in a secure place... and now he rests. "Holy shit... he almost got me."

And the tiny man wielding it like a lantern. Before setting it on his head to hand over a green bottle of blue fluid. "Half of it for stomach issues. The other half for fun."

@faeotheisles.bsky.social There's a minuscule set of steps rushing through, the grass split by the raw speed- Of a teeny tiny man who hops out of the grass, landing on a stump. "Oi."

"... Ya gonna shit yer' guts out? I got something for that 'round here." He plops down the giant backpack, rattling a squeaking firefly to shove half of his body into it to explore it.

Damn. He's sort of- given up. Closing the cloak to fall like a rock. He'll be fine! Will have to find a different, highly reactive organic matter.

"Aight. I won't hex ya. Gnome's word. Hell, ya can be present for what I'm doing. " He offers. Impassibly calm. Seemingly entertained by the exercise.

Op. He's stood on the burning rope. Removing his little cloak to use the hot air to float over, bastard is using it like a flying squirrel. "Why though."

There's a little dude the size of a blade of grass standing in front of his face. "Oi."

Wait this is fun- He's lassoed the ankle of the demon, sort of- calmly climbing up the rope. "It's like- just hair my dude-"

He knows. He's sort of doven out of it once overhead. "JUST A HAIR"

Aight. Just- Chopping a log down. Angling it up and- He's punched it into the sky. He's riding it like a surfboard.

... The little shit isn't losing him. Tiny dickbag down below saw him fizzle out and put on a pair of comically large purple goggles. Waving with the ax

That's fine- Just a little cloud of dust keeping up below-

//Feliks legitimately just loves crafting new shit-

There's a tiny blur fucking sprinting beneath. He's- Not really slower. Just the ax poking over the grass-

// someone gave him this idea

A esa casa pa' bichos le falta mezcla

"To replicate your horns. They're both Keratine, so an organic transmutation such as wood can produce one of 'em." He's not a liar. Got no reason to be.

That's probably fair. "Aight. Aight. What about a lock of yer' hair?" He rubs his chin. It's like talking to a damn fairy.

Is he sure? "C'mooooooon~ I can regrow 'em. Or just replicate one if ya lemme draw a rune."

"Gnomes are fucky, man. We ain't weak, it's more all our strength is focused in one tiny spot." Explains how speedy the assholes are. "Come ooooon- something! You'll grow cooler ones ya?"