Information
Tainted Victorian has a minion!
Spoons the Rull
Spoons the Rull
Tainted Victorian
Legacy Name: Tainted Victorian
The Graveyard Wyllop
Owner: Peppergrim
Age: 13 years, 9 months, 6 days
Born: July 28th, 2010
Adopted: 13 years, 9 months, 6 days ago
Adopted: July 28th, 2010
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 16
- Defense: 19
- Speed: 10
- Health: 16
- HP: 16/16
- Intelligence: 8
- Books Read: 8
- Food Eaten: 2
- Job: Unemployed
In this hell known as the third cell.
The darkness was my keeper.
I knew not kindness but only blindness.
And my longing for escape grew deeper.
But whom should the darkness hide?
Always by my side?
Fellow wanderers of victorian disdain.
The curious
The daunting
The mad
The insane.
The darkness was my keeper.
I knew not kindness but only blindness.
And my longing for escape grew deeper.
But whom should the darkness hide?
Always by my side?
Fellow wanderers of victorian disdain.
The curious
The daunting
The mad
The insane.
Sitting whilst I dither my thoughts, angst does not forget my mind.
And wondering through rose littered garden, I find myself restrained. It might be refreshing to be out of my cage, but beseech me not to call such a thing freedom, for not all cages have bars. Not even my own mind knows such a thing let alone this body of outcast. For that is what I am known as, outcast, a madman. Call me as you may, I am simply a man bred of the tainted life you think so highly of.
And what is my crime?
What makes me 'mad'?
Passion.
Dare not call me a liar, though society would beg to agree with you. Dare not call me deluded, for I am full aware of this place where I am treated like a rat and only lead to yet another cage with no roof so that I might look up to the sky and dream of flying away from this wretched place. Think me not crazy for wishing flight was possible. For I know it is not. Rats can not fly. Bats might, but I am not blind as bats are, as I can see my surroundings in a clarity you yourselves do not see. You blood suckers
And what was my crime? Quite honestly...
I don't know.
Filthy victorians...
They made me what I'm made of.
And wondering through rose littered garden, I find myself restrained. It might be refreshing to be out of my cage, but beseech me not to call such a thing freedom, for not all cages have bars. Not even my own mind knows such a thing let alone this body of outcast. For that is what I am known as, outcast, a madman. Call me as you may, I am simply a man bred of the tainted life you think so highly of.
And what is my crime?
What makes me 'mad'?
Passion.
Dare not call me a liar, though society would beg to agree with you. Dare not call me deluded, for I am full aware of this place where I am treated like a rat and only lead to yet another cage with no roof so that I might look up to the sky and dream of flying away from this wretched place. Think me not crazy for wishing flight was possible. For I know it is not. Rats can not fly. Bats might, but I am not blind as bats are, as I can see my surroundings in a clarity you yourselves do not see. You blood suckers
And what was my crime? Quite honestly...
I don't know.
Filthy victorians...
They made me what I'm made of.
Portraits and documents.
Observations of myself.
You get used to being watched after a while...
Pet Treasure
Adriette Doll
Steampunk Pocket Watch
Small Gold Mouse Trinket
Blood Soup
Winsome Rogue Refined Jacket