ITT: Post the ravings of lunatics in your setting. How is your

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>>54636346
I'm telling you boys, all I need you to do is keep the Yakuza off my back, and I can pay you back in gold! an entire acre of my banana plantation, all for you! That shits goes for DOZENS of dollars on the pan-galactic market!

Also... If you wouldn't mind, I could go for a nice message... I'll throw a few more bananas your way for it!

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>>54636346
You've come at a bad time. He [the GM] doesn't want you to find your enemy yet! Turn back, go away. You will be torn limb from limb if you confront your enemy now, he knows. He is talking about it the whole time...

Stop laughing...how can you smile? How can you love, when the beast is watching? STOP. SMILING. H-how...how can you smile? How can happiness exist in the same world as that monster?

The Sun is coming! It will burn our Sins! All will be punished for our misdeed! No one is innocent!
Old Koshey is reborn! He calling his army to doom us all!
Thesunthesunthesunthesunthesun...

millenium hand and shrimp

>>54638174
Buggrit?

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>>54636346

"I used to be a hero! Help me, I can't find my sword! Four days, four days! Four days...a sword...a hero..."
for context, he's an npc adventurer that wandered into a cursed temple that messes with time while your in it. The goal is for the players to keep his "younger" self from going to the temple, thus saving him from rapid aging and eventual madness.

>>54636346
>How is your settings' madness unique?
I'm partial to the "they're not actually crazy" angle myself, but that's not exactly unique. In a fictional setting, the ravings of lunatics are often not only possible, but probable.

Ha ha, a hero boy with a hundred toys! King of the plastic castle! No, no, don't find him. Leave him with the cage snakes.

"I have to warn you, the coins, the coins! Throw away your coins, it has his face, his face, his eyes, he sees with his eyes! He always has.
How long have you been here? No, you have to run, drop your coins and run into the woods and never speak a word until I am gone."

HAHA YES! Yes he comes for me he comes for you he comes for all! Praise him and know nothing! My life is his tool my hands his instrument! Come! Ring the brass bells, summon his children, awaken the entertainment and give him his sacrifices!

>>54636346
Oi, ya gits, tell ye boss' ta stop dat rattlin'! OR I'LL, I'LL, I'LL BLOW UP DIS 'ERE POTATO FING. 'S got one'o'dem "Minatchur black 'ole" fings innit, and iz gonna blow up real big. NO YOU DON'T NEED TA KNOW WOT IT IZ, JUST GO AWAY AND STOP THE RATTLIN'. I CAN 'EAR YA TALKIN' IN DA BACKROUND YA COZMIC GITZ.

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>>54636346

>>54636346
I've never found a reason to post this anywhere outside my friend group, but well... I guess this thread is perfect.

These are transcripts of conversations I've had in which I, as an employee at a hole-in-the-wall one-room (not my) family-owned musical instrument/accessory shop, typed and recited the words, verbatim, of this one man who would come into the store fairly regularly and spend anywhere from seconds to hours at a time. There isn't much to see in a store which has the total floor space probably smaller than your bedroom, I'm sure you can imagine, but he'd find a way to keep occupied and talk throughout the experience.

He was a tallish bald black dude with a constant, unending shake across his whole body, to the point where he sometimes had to stop and cringe like he just remembered asking out his highschool sweetheart for the first time. His lower lip was inflated like a balloon, he drooled when he leaned over, and every day he came in he was carrying stacks and stacks of magazines, papers, notebooks and books in a different shopping bag or backpack in varying degrees of integrity. He had a tendency to draw in his notebooks, and he often spoke of the end of days in a dark and foreboding manner, hence I dubbed him "The Black Prophet."

https://pastebin.com/iwSRzuUz

>>54636346
Make them STOP! MAKE THE INFLAMED INSECTS STOP THEIR PESTERING OF MY SKIN! Bloody stool and acidic fluid eject from my left orifice BECAUSE OF THEIR SINGING! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL SONG IT IS, THE SONG OF THE TOAD WHO SODOMIZES THE LEECH!

All of it, all of it is magic. Well no, I'm not quite sure what it does myself, my wife Marge made them. She would know though, when she gets back. She'll be back soon. The green makes you fly though I think, maybe, or breathe fire? I don't quite have the memory for magic like she does. But yes yes, she'll be back soon. All of its magic, yes. Marge made it. Just upstairs she is, I'll ask her about it.

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The Tillers, the local pagan/nature mystery cult in the setting I'm working on right now, are actually pretty calm, if a bit lacking in social grace. They tend more towards a lack of speech and try to pass themselves off as normal, but are sometimes changed enough that they have slight quirks or tics. They're more likely to try to trick people into inadvertently making offerings to their gods by selling them cursed wood to burn or cursed soil to plant with, that sort of thing. They do get violent if anyone trespasses near their holy sites, but that's rare since they're a very rural thing and tend to be isolated and secretive. They've got a decent success rate with the aforementioned tricks and scams since so few people know about them outside of the backwoods, and are slowly moving towards more populated areas.