Hops

You would have never thought that such a group could be gathered on a pew at the Church of Sulfur… but fate and its ruminations work in strange ways, and Burrowgatory is naught but subject to the woes and wills of the higher powers of yore. The situation with the hazeblooms, the stakeout, and Damsel Hops’ dignity turned out to be quite the bit more messy than Calcifer had foreseen; the two of them had lurched forward, nets blazing, forgetting the “capture” part of their motive ...

The preparations have been made. Scraps of camouflaging fabric from Velveteen (The Purveyor of the Threads of Fate), an apparatus for catching fiends from Hutch (The Tamer of Wild Beasts), and sustenance to last through a night from Shibani (The Duke of the Dreamworld) … all of these things are essential supplies to catch the boldly feasting fiend that snacks on gardens as such. Especially after the fields had been ravaged another time, so close to the blooming point… th...

With a new week brings new dawns, and soon the fruits of one’s labor shall— “AIEEEEEEEEEE!!!” The cry of a damsel rings true through the hallowed halls of the Casino. Some present did not feel the need to pay heed to yet another cry among the masses, but the good name of Calcifer Ichabod VII, the Sanguineous Scourge Upon the Lands rode upon responding to the beck and call of the Hazebloom Damsel… and that was no ordinary cry. A chill ran through Calci...

Ugh, this really super fucking blowed. And not even the fun kind. Gardening had never really been anything Damian had been particularly interested in. Sure, he appreciated most of the things that gardening, farming, produced, but putting the work into everything that went into such an end...