Theren is inside grumbling miserably about the rain.
Phoenix is in his room laying on his bed.
Ban is on the roof enjoying the smell and sound of the rain.
Deep in the forest the Empire lays defeated, except for one trooper. His armor is cracked and caked in mud. A heavy blaster rifle is on his back as he trudges through the debris of the battle.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Theren is inside grumbling miserably about the rain.
Phoenix is in his room laying on his bed.
Ban is on the roof enjoying the smell and sound of the rain.
Deep in the forest the Empire lays defeated, except for one trooper. His armor is cracked and caked in mud. A heavy blaster rifle is on his back as he trudges through the debris of the battle.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Nicholas was clinging tightly to the rope that was attached to the majestic sails on the main mast of the ship, his gloved hands feeling the rough texture of the rope as he braced himself against the icy winds. He felt grateful for the advice of his first mate, Matias, who had urged him to wear a balaclava to protect himself from the freezing weather. The icy conditions were treacherous and could easily penetrate through his thick layers of leather and armor, leaving him and his crew vulnerable to the dangers of the rough ocean waters.
For days and nights, they had been relentlessly pursuing a massive whale, their ship cutting through the icy waters with tenacity and determination. Sleep had been a luxury that was hard to come by, as the daylight hours were scarce in the region. They had to proceed with caution, their eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of sharp icebergs that could easily slice through the stern of the ship and send them all plummeting into the frigid ocean depths.
"Captain, we're approaching a solid mass of ice. It looks like it could sustain us for a bit," Johnson yelled from the crow's nest. The captain looked up and quickly located Johnson thanks to the lantern he was holding. He nodded and replied, "Roger that. Thank you," before turning his attention back to the ship's course.
As the ship named 'Santa Valeria' entered the harbor, it was clear that it had seen better days. The faded white paint on its side revealed the ship's long and arduous journey, with numerous scars and dents that spoke of battles fought and won.
The ship was made of thick planks of dark wood that had weathered many storms, and its fraying sails hinted at the dangers it had faced at sea. Despite its battered appearance, the crew of the ship moved with a precision that spoke of their experience and skill.
As the anchor lowered into the water, the crew sprang into action, each person taking on their designated tasks with ease.
A man, dressed in thick leathers and with a breastplate over his chest, made his way down the plank. Removing his balaclava, he revealed short dirty-blonde hair. The man's fair skin was marred by scars that spoke of battles fought and won. His bright grey eyes shone with determination and a hint of weariness, as if he had just emerged from a long and difficult journey. Despite the rain pouring down, the man's clothing remained dry, as if he was immune to the elements. He wore a single stud earring in his right ear that was made from some sort of bone. He helped his crew secure the ship to the dock, his movements precise and well-coordinated. In his hand, he carried a trident made from dark steel that was intricately carved with motifs of icebergs and whales.
As the ship finally settled into place, a sense of adventure and danger hung in the air. The scene was one of triumph over adversity, with the ship and its crew appearing as if they had just emerged from a fierce battle with the elements.
Nicholas was clinging tightly to the rope that was attached to the majestic sails on the main mast of the ship, his gloved hands feeling the rough texture of the rope as he braced himself against the icy winds. He felt grateful for the advice of his first mate, Matias, who had urged him to wear a balaclava to protect himself from the freezing weather. The icy conditions were treacherous and could easily penetrate through his thick layers of leather and armor, leaving him and his crew vulnerable to the dangers of the rough ocean waters.
For days and nights, they had been relentlessly pursuing a massive whale, their ship cutting through the icy waters with tenacity and determination. Sleep had been a luxury that was hard to come by, as the daylight hours were scarce in the region. They had to proceed with caution, their eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of sharp icebergs that could easily slice through the stern of the ship and send them all plummeting into the frigid ocean depths.
"Captain, we're approaching a solid mass of ice. It looks like it could sustain us for a bit," Johnson yelled from the crow's nest. The captain looked up and quickly located Johnson thanks to the lantern he was holding. He nodded and replied, "Roger that. Thank you," before turning his attention back to the ship's course.
As the ship named 'Santa Valeria' entered the harbor, it was clear that it had seen better days. The faded white paint on its side revealed the ship's long and arduous journey, with numerous scars and dents that spoke of battles fought and won.
The ship was made of thick planks of dark wood that had weathered many storms, and its fraying sails hinted at the dangers it had faced at sea. Despite its battered appearance, the crew of the ship moved with a precision that spoke of their experience and skill.
As the anchor lowered into the water, the crew sprang into action, each person taking on their designated tasks with ease.
A man, dressed in thick leathers and with a breastplate over his chest, made his way down the plank. Removing his balaclava, he revealed short dirty-blonde hair. The man's fair skin was marred by scars that spoke of battles fought and won. His bright grey eyes shone with determination and a hint of weariness, as if he had just emerged from a long and difficult journey. Despite the rain pouring down, the man's clothing remained dry, as if he was immune to the elements. He wore a single stud earring in his right ear that was made from some sort of bone. He helped his crew secure the ship to the dock, his movements precise and well-coordinated. In his hand, he carried a trident made from dark steel that was intricately carved with motifs of icebergs and whales.
As the ship finally settled into place, a sense of adventure and danger hung in the air. The scene was one of triumph over adversity, with the ship and its crew appearing as if they had just emerged from a fierce battle with the elements.
Phoenix eyes the boat and the man wearily.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Nicholas was clinging tightly to the rope that was attached to the majestic sails on the main mast of the ship, his gloved hands feeling the rough texture of the rope as he braced himself against the icy winds. He felt grateful for the advice of his first mate, Matias, who had urged him to wear a balaclava to protect himself from the freezing weather. The icy conditions were treacherous and could easily penetrate through his thick layers of leather and armor, leaving him and his crew vulnerable to the dangers of the rough ocean waters.
For days and nights, they had been relentlessly pursuing a massive whale, their ship cutting through the icy waters with tenacity and determination. Sleep had been a luxury that was hard to come by, as the daylight hours were scarce in the region. They had to proceed with caution, their eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of sharp icebergs that could easily slice through the stern of the ship and send them all plummeting into the frigid ocean depths.
"Captain, we're approaching a solid mass of ice. It looks like it could sustain us for a bit," Johnson yelled from the crow's nest. The captain looked up and quickly located Johnson thanks to the lantern he was holding. He nodded and replied, "Roger that. Thank you," before turning his attention back to the ship's course.
As the ship named 'Santa Valeria' entered the harbor, it was clear that it had seen better days. The faded white paint on its side revealed the ship's long and arduous journey, with numerous scars and dents that spoke of battles fought and won.
The ship was made of thick planks of dark wood that had weathered many storms, and its fraying sails hinted at the dangers it had faced at sea. Despite its battered appearance, the crew of the ship moved with a precision that spoke of their experience and skill.
As the anchor lowered into the water, the crew sprang into action, each person taking on their designated tasks with ease.
A man, dressed in thick leathers and with a breastplate over his chest, made his way down the plank. Removing his balaclava, he revealed short dirty-blonde hair. The man's fair skin was marred by scars that spoke of battles fought and won. His bright grey eyes shone with determination and a hint of weariness, as if he had just emerged from a long and difficult journey. Despite the rain pouring down, the man's clothing remained dry, as if he was immune to the elements. He wore a single stud earring in his right ear that was made from some sort of bone. He helped his crew secure the ship to the dock, his movements precise and well-coordinated. In his hand, he carried a trident made from dark steel that was intricately carved with motifs of icebergs and whales.
As the ship finally settled into place, a sense of adventure and danger hung in the air. The scene was one of triumph over adversity, with the ship and its crew appearing as if they had just emerged from a fierce battle with the elements.
Thirteen examines the boat from a distance, marking something down.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Theren is inside grumbling miserably about the rain.
Phoenix is in his room laying on his bed.
Ban is on the roof enjoying the smell and sound of the rain.
Deep in the forest the Empire lays defeated, except for one trooper. His armor is cracked and caked in mud. A heavy blaster rifle is on his back as he trudges through the debris of the battle.
*anyone wanna rp with these guys?*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Theren is inside grumbling miserably about the rain.
Phoenix is in his room laying on his bed.
Ban is on the roof enjoying the smell and sound of the rain.
Deep in the forest the Empire lays defeated, except for one trooper. His armor is cracked and caked in mud. A heavy blaster rifle is on his back as he trudges through the debris of the battle.
*anyone wanna rp with these guys?*
Mauric is reorganizing his potted plants, which he keeps on the roof.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Theren is inside grumbling miserably about the rain.
Phoenix is in his room laying on his bed.
Ban is on the roof enjoying the smell and sound of the rain.
Deep in the forest the Empire lays defeated, except for one trooper. His armor is cracked and caked in mud. A heavy blaster rifle is on his back as he trudges through the debris of the battle.
*anyone wanna rp with these guys?*
Mauric is reorganizing his potted plants, which he keeps on the roof.
Ban looks over, smoking a cigarette.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Theren is inside grumbling miserably about the rain.
Phoenix is in his room laying on his bed.
Ban is on the roof enjoying the smell and sound of the rain.
Deep in the forest the Empire lays defeated, except for one trooper. His armor is cracked and caked in mud. A heavy blaster rifle is on his back as he trudges through the debris of the battle.
*anyone wanna rp with these guys?*
Mauric is reorganizing his potted plants, which he keeps on the roof.
Ban looks over, smoking a cigarette.
He looks back. “Hey pal, whatcha doing up here?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
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*YOU FOOL I WAS WEARING BODY ARMOR*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*[HISSES]*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*takes out flamethrower*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*[Scuttles under a rug]*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*implodes*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*brrrrr*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*how are you doing?*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*morning y'all*
Theren is inside grumbling miserably about the rain.
Phoenix is in his room laying on his bed.
Ban is on the roof enjoying the smell and sound of the rain.
Deep in the forest the Empire lays defeated, except for one trooper. His armor is cracked and caked in mud. A heavy blaster rifle is on his back as he trudges through the debris of the battle.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*Making a Former Marine turned Ice Whaler: https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/124446229/thndAH*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*that’s so cool, when do you plan to intro?*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
*I was actually planning on introing him now :]*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*awesome*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"Our Flag stands for us alone."
Nicholas was clinging tightly to the rope that was attached to the majestic sails on the main mast of the ship, his gloved hands feeling the rough texture of the rope as he braced himself against the icy winds. He felt grateful for the advice of his first mate, Matias, who had urged him to wear a balaclava to protect himself from the freezing weather. The icy conditions were treacherous and could easily penetrate through his thick layers of leather and armor, leaving him and his crew vulnerable to the dangers of the rough ocean waters.
For days and nights, they had been relentlessly pursuing a massive whale, their ship cutting through the icy waters with tenacity and determination. Sleep had been a luxury that was hard to come by, as the daylight hours were scarce in the region. They had to proceed with caution, their eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of sharp icebergs that could easily slice through the stern of the ship and send them all plummeting into the frigid ocean depths.
"Captain, we're approaching a solid mass of ice. It looks like it could sustain us for a bit," Johnson yelled from the crow's nest. The captain looked up and quickly located Johnson thanks to the lantern he was holding. He nodded and replied, "Roger that. Thank you," before turning his attention back to the ship's course.
As the ship named 'Santa Valeria' entered the harbor, it was clear that it had seen better days. The faded white paint on its side revealed the ship's long and arduous journey, with numerous scars and dents that spoke of battles fought and won.
The ship was made of thick planks of dark wood that had weathered many storms, and its fraying sails hinted at the dangers it had faced at sea. Despite its battered appearance, the crew of the ship moved with a precision that spoke of their experience and skill.
As the anchor lowered into the water, the crew sprang into action, each person taking on their designated tasks with ease.
A man, dressed in thick leathers and with a breastplate over his chest, made his way down the plank. Removing his balaclava, he revealed short dirty-blonde hair. The man's fair skin was marred by scars that spoke of battles fought and won. His bright grey eyes shone with determination and a hint of weariness, as if he had just emerged from a long and difficult journey. Despite the rain pouring down, the man's clothing remained dry, as if he was immune to the elements. He wore a single stud earring in his right ear that was made from some sort of bone. He helped his crew secure the ship to the dock, his movements precise and well-coordinated. In his hand, he carried a trident made from dark steel that was intricately carved with motifs of icebergs and whales.
As the ship finally settled into place, a sense of adventure and danger hung in the air. The scene was one of triumph over adversity, with the ship and its crew appearing as if they had just emerged from a fierce battle with the elements.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
Phoenix eyes the boat and the man wearily.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Thirteen examines the boat from a distance, marking something down.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*anyone wanna rp with these guys?*
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Mauric is reorganizing his potted plants, which he keeps on the roof.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Ban looks over, smoking a cigarette.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
He looks back. “Hey pal, whatcha doing up here?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.