Welcome to Gaia! ::

I, Psykgi Mentha, hereby oath myself.

"Oh my gog!" It was the flarp booth! It was back! Psykgi remembered the last Bloodfest, and, before she even thought about it, she signed up. "Yes! Yes! Give me that newsletter! Ah, I'm so excited!"

She was already thinking of a costume...

I, BUFFEL OBILLE, hereby oath myself.

Will fill in later!!!!

I, AZRAEL MORTIS, hereby oath myself.

It took a moment of debate, but Azrael finally signed the form. This would be an interesting experience and might prove educational or damagingly frightening.

Naturally, it looked like she sucked at it.

Well, she had to try at least once didn't she? Her legs were fast, but it looked like she'd have to work on her arms. That was alright, she wasn't really feeling the prizes anyway... what the ******** was this poster?

Winner winner, troll dinner.






no jailtime, so last ticket is raffled between all posters (number=post# afterflarp reserves)





ONE MORE SPOT LEFT FOR FLARP smile

The game is beginning! The game is beginning!

Well, sort of.

Alifax has stepped up to you, thrusting a small envelope unceremoniously over. In it contains your character card for the week's event! He informs you that all of your trolls live in the same town, but nothing more. Head over to Frossa when you're ready to get in costume!

Match ups were assigned on a randomizer b/c it was easy hurhur




After being assigned your character and you make your way over to the costume tent, Frossa piles fabrics, a wig, and fake horns into your arms. She explains that you're expected to be in full costume while you're here, and you can store your stuff in the tent safely. Hippodad grunts from the other side of the thin fabric separating you. You can leave your costume here if you want to change afterward- but the costume is yours now! Free swag! They're really nice quality duds, so you figure the NFL is desperate for recruits. If you so much as hesitate, Frossa will forcibly jam the costume over your clothes. Sorry- you signed your soul over, remember? This is not optional. She's already half on top of you, jabbing the appropriately coloured mascara into your lookstubs. Welcome to the NFL.

The actual game still won't start for a bit- but now it's time to mingle!

Your character card reflects base information about your character's job and relationships. It's all flavour- none of this is relevant to the in-game killer/protector/etc roles. While all the cards are visible to us, whether or not your troll shares their card's details with other trolls is up to you! Special roles will be PMd later tonight.

"Caiden! Dearest~" Frossa cooed, edging closer to the painter. "Just lovely- so kind of you to ask." Leaning back, she let out an honestly genuine gasp, covering her mouth with one gloved hand. "I'm sorry sign ups filled so fast- we're just that popular, I guess!" A flip of her drillhair. "But I do hope you can join us next time. Why don't you sign up for our newsletter instead?" She jammed one of the pamphlets in his face.

Buffel Obille

Buffel looked his card over.
A chef, huh? I've been known to cook a stew or two in my day, this has all the fixin's of a cake-walk. And the matesprit looks to be a gallant sort, maybe I could learn a thing or two.

He meandered about the tent, finding the costume area. The hat almost ripped on his horns, but eventually it rested on his head, a bit bigger than expected. The rest of the outfit he quickly realized was built for someone of another body type. Fussing about, he manages to get the top portion on and have it go down to his feet. He decides the pants would neither fit nor be seen much from under the chef top. Sufficiently dressed to the not-quite-nines, Buffel set about getting into character.