Rextopher Stanners

Rex is a tiefling from Greek.

Rextopher woke one day, curled in a ball on a snowy hillside on the summit of a mountain. Snow crept cold up their back and wind found every gap, every open fold

tucked away somewhere hidden in their clothes. Shaking it off, and staring around rex took in, this barren hill they had found themselves perched on no memory of anything: their name, their home or even where they're from. Trecking for nights, searching for some form of respite from this bitter cold, these biting winds of Icewind dale that wracked their soul. But three days in resigned to fail, an old woman in a fair shack offered them a bail.

They lived for weeks reading story after story for this old gnome woman had once written crime books, of good acclaim when her days were full of glory.

But rex's brain had started, to paint pictures of Lovecraftian slugs who ate the brains of folks like them until their minds were all the same.

Thanking the woman for all her help rex set out to find some aid inn after inn he questioned after secrets yet to be found.

A hooded stranger one week in, offered a solution to the creature to whom they were bound. A signature given a wrist flicken, a talon sharply flashed, and just like that rex was free of these ropes so firmly lashed.

But soon after those nightmares re-awoken, but for slug had swapped to this hooded stranger and his talons wrapped firmly around rextophers throat.

### Backstory (no spoilers)

*AN: Special fangz (get it, coz Im goffik) 2 my gf (ew not in that way) raven, bloodytearz666 4 helpin me wif da story and spelling. U rok! Justin ur da luv of my deprzzing life u rok 2! MCR ROX!*

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Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee *(AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!)*. [[I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I’m in the seventh year (I’m seventeen). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Ebony!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Draco Malfoy!

“What’s up Draco?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

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### Lore (IMPORTANT)

Get a light snack in Davy Byrne’s. Stopgap. Keep me going. Had a good breakfast.

—Roast and mashed here.

—Pint of stout.

Every fellow for his own, tooth and nail. Gulp. Grub. Gulp. Gobstuff.

He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street. Eat or be eaten. Kill! Kill!

Suppose that communal kitchen years to come perhaps. All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be filled. Devour contents in the street. John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every mother’s son don’t talk of your provosts and provost of Trinity women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans’ dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a bathchair. My plate’s empty. After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. Like sir Philip Crampton’s fountain. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Next chap rubs on a new batch with his. Father O’Flynn would make hares of them all. Have rows all the same. All for number one. Children fighting for the scrapings of the pot. Want a souppot as big as the Phoenix park. Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of it. Hate people all round you. City Arms hotel *table d’hôte* she called it. Soup, joint and sweet. Never know whose thoughts you’re chewing. Then who’d wash up all the plates and forks? Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Teeth getting worse and worse.