Plants, right? At this very moment now, Barathrumite+ patrons are voting on who'll be this month's pet plant. Come Friday, November 1st, 11:59PM PST, the decision will be made. Let's meet the candidates.
Fracc
🎵 Up on high at harvest dawn,
did fair Rihart, gentle fawn,
scamper down the dune to fetch a spiny fruit.
When she reached out with her sack,
Lo, the spiny fruit bit back!
'For it scampered up the dune with all her loot. 🎵
Frondzie
"Hey bud! Hey, hey meat-bud! Wake up! How’dja sleep? I slept ‘vine’. Geddit? I’m feeling ‘vine’.
I kid! I don’t sleep! I’m a plant!
I did run through all the Canticles Chromaic while you were sleeping, and boy are my fronds tired! Gave me a few new jokes, though! Mind if I test ‘em out? You don’t mind, right? You don’t.
So: what did the three Mechanimists say when they discovered the Six Day Stilt?
‘Well, well, well!’ Geddit?
Okay, so why is Bethesda Susa so noisy? Because the Temple is so ‘rock-us’!
Nothin’? Tough crowd.
This is worse than the time I did a set for a bunch of urshiib. I really ‘bara-threw-em’ for a loop!
We breaking camp already? Nice! Where are we headed? Hey, let’s stock up on water and hit the salt pans. I’ve always wanted to go. The ‘Moghra’yi’ hear about it, the ‘Moghra’yi’ love it! But then I met one of the locals and let me say, Issachari? More like he’s-a scary!
Ha ha, you’re walking a little fast there, bud! Wait for old Frondzie!"
Boreom
"Let every soldier Spray-a-Brain an Oak
and urge it forward. Thereby shall we both
Increase our might and hide it from our foe
Until we reach the gate of Yawningmoon.
Therein awaits the usurper Macoun,
who vies to draw the Gods up from below
but watches from the sky and shall not know
Our army hewed from Boreom, bespoke."
— Willow Shakesprig, Macoun
Chamaniya
"Glorious salt sun, praise be upon you! Let us bask! Let us live! Let us drink!
Uh, you there, curious fellow with whom I am bonded. Cohort of mine. BUDDY. There appears to be a defect with your internal compass. A catastrophic flaw in the mechanism. You appear to be headed underground, *away* from the bright and lovely star.
What's this now? It is your *intention* to crawl into a cave, to entomb yourself in the rotting earth, like a dead thing?
My chum, my sun-sib... may I call you sun-sib? Surely we may discuss this. I... no, wait! Ha, yes! The Cave! I love it, too, but perhaps just a little more time in the sun and we.. wait! Friend! Compatriot of mine... stop... wait there! I've a few more things to say about the glorious sun that you might... STOP!"