Paladins are asleep. Post Undead

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Death cannot deter justice.

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Good evening to you, fellow necros!

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anyone have an undead monk?

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would you, Veeky Forums?

i would.

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Heck Yeah!

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>trusting the skull

I actually got that as a cloth poster back when I was 8 or 9.
Had it up for over 10 years.

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I'm making a campaign with a neutral nation run by a lich who wanted immortality for money, and now uses skeletons to run his nation's economy.

Does anyone have and non-battle related skeletals?

I'll see if I have anyting.

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I envy you

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What about Undead Paladins?

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Undead are for chumps post demons.

Duane is the best zombie.

Better version

Skellingtons hunger for ramen noodles

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SPOOKY
SCARY

oh oscar...

Id let that pugna siphon me if ya know what I mean

dude, 8 year old me would've loved the shit out of that poster.

Until I nether blasted in her mouth

the ride ends here skellington

But what if we share our noodles with you?

did you actually edit the edgiest MTG character into something even worse?

You're just being paranoid, chief.
When have I ever let you down?

That connection joint looks like it would cause some serous back issues. Also, how are they supposed to rest the muscles holding their torso up? No posture for sleeping would be comfortable.

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>skeleton noodles
>or continue fighting the skeletons
Oh lord in heaven protect me, for my faith is met with its greatest test. This ramen does shake my resolve with its texture and scent lord. And I have heard many a tale of the noodles made by the unliving. Please lord give me the strength to resist this temptation.

I want a detective story featuring this skeleton.

She was the kinda' dame that could raddle every bone in the bar with 5 pases, if ya' catch my drift. Her femurs propped her up to a good five feet and kept her there; the bleached curve of her cranium gave her an innocent look that might have fooled a better man, but I'd seen too much in my two hundred years to fall for it. This girl was going to be trouble. I could smell it on her.

She sashayed over to my booth like she had nothing left to lose, but I saw her take a quick look around before she started talking to me. Girls like her wouldn't usually risk trekking over to my shady little corner of the necropolis, let alone being seen talking to me. I recognised her immediately, but I knew she wouldn't have been able to pick me out of a bone pile. Someone must have pointed her in my direction.

"I need a favour," she said. No small talk. Straight to the point. She was growing on me, but 'favour' was a dirty word to a man in my line of work; I was no 'bonehead', but few were. I waited for her to continue. "There's this grave robber..."

Your call goes unheeded paladin.
Join our dark feast!
>Aura of Delicious Temptation

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Horses have a shitton of muscle also I imagine a large pillow bed where they sleep on their side.

I got to do that with one of my high level paladins. It was AWESOME!

Story time?

It takes an awful lot of grit to face down a zombie t-rex with nothing but a six shooter. Doubly so when your shootin' arm's laid up in a hammock. I don't know what kind of life you've lived fella. Maybe you were a spotless sheriff whose badge shone for miles. Maybe you were a desperado of the worst sort. But here and now? You're the truest cowboy there's ever been.

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Anyone else remember this gem?

>my edit is still floating around.
cool

>.gif

/bones/ here.

When I died, I woke back up as:
>bones
>pile-o-meat (formless zombie)
>ghost
>neurowalker (lit. brain telekinetically moving itself around, will full nervous system still emulating shape of living me)

Every one of us has my full memories and believes we're the real me (if it has to just be one of us, my money is on NW or ghost).

What do?

Remember when you were a meatbag kid and couldn't decide what you wanted to be?

Be all of those things. You can do it.

But ever since the whole becoming bones thing, I have a nigh-uncontrollable urge to make terrible puns and I have to keep consciously telling myself I can't play my ribs like a xylophone becaus ethey don't work that way.

Roll with it. Maybe they didn't work like a xylophone before, but now? Who knows. You may have had the best darn rib-xylophone player inside you all along.

In any case, it doesn't matter which one of those four WAS you. What matters is which one IS you. Whether it's a different you than before doesn't matter. Everyone becomes a different person, little by little, with every passing moment. Embrace the you that is you in the here and now, and move on with your life. Er, unlife.

I was just about to do this.

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Seconding

Eat up, meat man.

Skulduggery Pleasant, by Derek Landy.

"Lock in the auxiliary power, Spooky!"