Whoever makes the first move has the least discipline, and thus shall lose in the most shameful manner possible. The fighters all stand ready and allow the one with the weakest resolve to betray him/her/itself, so that they may collectively chastise such folly.
Of course, 23’s sudden appearance has thrown the usual procedure out the window.
I just discovered this v̶e̶r̶i̶t̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶S̶i̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ ̶C̶h̶a̶p̶e̶l̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶w̶e̶b̶c̶o̶m̶i̶c̶s̶ great webcomic. Will there be more opportunities to submit gods and/or other types of creatures and characters? Or is that submission form permanently open?
Ooohh. I remember. Upon the upper balcony, I did behold a sight. A creature pink and flagrant red did cross before my eyes. Between his fingers did appear a host of spikes and knives, but soon he found that all around a host of death’d arrived.
Oh woe, oh terrible woe. That we did not catch that girl, tis sad but true.
I am amused! The first combatant to appear on this page recoiled so at his oncoming demise the he inverted himself entirely! Droll, is it not? Without cloth or metal or caution to guard him, ill-preparedness incarnate throws himself at an angel. His most perfect moment is that of his death. He is beautiful now, and I shall not think on him again.
So– coming late, and having seen that of others’ cleversome speaks, I contribute this, in a manner accordant with utmost ceremony: I adore 23’s fluffslike wristicuffs. Most ardently.
She is right to be afraid, for desperate men have little to lose.
karicha simhasya balam na mushika
Oh man this guy has the cutest little booty. Yum. Especially panel 3.
And s/he/they has/have just brought the chum directly into the shark tank. Well. This should/will be interesting/horrifying….
Is that…. Is that a little pink tuft of angelic pubic hair?
Angels don’t have hair. Come on now.
Then what is that on his(his?) wrists, neck and crotch? Sure looks like a hair.
Unless it’s a wig. Customly made for this Delicious person.
It’s a fashionable merkin.
Allison doesn’t seem to be enjoying the ride. How peculiar.
I believe it is time to place bets for this fight.
My money’s on Maya Mantra.
I bet on the Noodle Knight.
Verinaut beat me to it xD
Fifty electrum ingots on the golden child!
Oh, hey. Nobody’s gotten past the pre-fight posturing phase here yet.
Whoever makes the first move has the least discipline, and thus shall lose in the most shameful manner possible. The fighters all stand ready and allow the one with the weakest resolve to betray him/her/itself, so that they may collectively chastise such folly.
Of course, 23’s sudden appearance has thrown the usual procedure out the window.
The first to move is the first to die.
That’s right, keep going with the Mexican stand-off, I haven’t finished me noodles yet.
I just discovered this v̶e̶r̶i̶t̶a̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶S̶i̶s̶t̶i̶n̶e̶ ̶C̶h̶a̶p̶e̶l̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶w̶e̶b̶c̶o̶m̶i̶c̶s̶ great webcomic. Will there be more opportunities to submit gods and/or other types of creatures and characters? Or is that submission form permanently open?
Five pounds of Manticore fat and fifty liters of panda semen for the Gun witch!
I bet 12 liters of panda semen that the gun witch will fire the first shot.
23 is pretty good with those needles, but can she/he sow a button back on a shirt?
Ooohh. I remember. Upon the upper balcony, I did behold a sight. A creature pink and flagrant red did cross before my eyes. Between his fingers did appear a host of spikes and knives, but soon he found that all around a host of death’d arrived.
Oh woe, oh terrible woe. That we did not catch that girl, tis sad but true.
Though… at least I am still alive.
I am amused! The first combatant to appear on this page recoiled so at his oncoming demise the he inverted himself entirely! Droll, is it not? Without cloth or metal or caution to guard him, ill-preparedness incarnate throws himself at an angel. His most perfect moment is that of his death. He is beautiful now, and I shall not think on him again.
So– coming late, and having seen that of others’ cleversome speaks, I contribute this, in a manner accordant with utmost ceremony: I adore 23’s fluffslike wristicuffs. Most ardently.