conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: ribblle: Latest Story Posts
  
   
   Spoiler: Togo 
  You're being shaken awake. A bag of mostly powdered seeds, chisels and Somf skin thudding into your belly welcomes you to another night in the less prestigious scrapyards of Tomeba, the land of the ever-ready, the glimmering hosts and steaming caskets. Your tokens scatter on the counter of a loxoden smith, granting you a scant three hours. His puffy trunk dismissively waves you through. A disapproving moon is overawed by the busy rattle of the furnace and the smoke of hundreds shearing into their ancestors leavings.
  
  A smack, some squawking and rough feathers herald the disappearance of a Eglep bracelet you've been prettying up for the damn smith. Many sharp things follow the bird, men across the camp swearing viciously as their peers mumble sympathetically and inactively. This is the second time for you alone this month, your unimpressive silhouette perhaps having something to do with it. The night wasted, you turn to see other cairn hounds filtering out to the beaches, the groves and the healer. A shrill chirp rings out from above.
  
  What next?
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: ribblle: Togo:
  
  You're being shaken awake. A bag of mostly powdered seeds, chisels and Somf skin thudding into your belly welcomes you to another night in the less prestigious scrapyards of Tomeba, the land of the ever-ready, the glimmering and steaming caskets. Your tokens scatter on the counter of a loxoden smith, granting you a scant three hours. His puffy trunk dismissively waves you through. A disapproving moon is overawed by the busy rattle of the furnace and the smoke of hundreds shearing into their ancestors leavings.
  
  A smack, some squawking and rough feathers herald the disappearance of a Eglep bracelet you've been prettying up for the damn smith. Many sharp things follow the bird, men across the camp swearing viciously as their peers mumble sympathetically and inactively. This is the second time for you alone this month, your unimpressive silhouette perhaps having something to do with it. The night wasted, you can see other cairn hounds filtering out to the beaches, the groves and the healer. A shrill chirp rings out from above.
  
  What next?