*I have one question about the setting: What's the general level of technology for the world? The idea I have is that my character is a robot or some magical construct from one of the shielded cities that had a defect and wasn't doing their job, so the city threw them to the desert and closed the gates behind them, and I wanted to know how feasible that would be.*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
“Lucky you, ain’t that somethin’. Water is somethin’ scarce ‘round here.” He pours her another before putting the whiskey back.
She takes a big swig. "I heard. Something about the rich and "powerful" hoarding it. Doesn't surprise me all that much, it's the same thing no matter where you go it seems."
“That’s the thing bout the world, those with the money do whatever they want, a those without either start doin’ what they need to, or find themselves dead in a gutter somewhere.”
"Ain't it the truth. Speaking of doing what needs to done, I'm actually here seeking someone by the name of Deadeye. Know where I can look?" the Tabaxi asks as she finishes off her second glass of whiskey.
He adjust his glasses, carefully "Lookin' fer Deadeye huh? He's somewhere 'round here, last I remember he was servin' people in the saloon." He says, downing another whiskey.
"Hm...I see." she says, realization hitting her but deciding to not comment. "I've hear that he offers some pretty exciting jobs for those with special skills. I'm looking for employment"
A tiefling wearing a dusty overcoat on top of a vest, a shirt, some nice pants, and shin-high boots walks into the bar. On his head he wears a wide-brimmed Stetson style hat pulled down low, as well as a bandana covering his mouth and nose. On his hips he has two sheaths, each containing a long, curved knife, and he has dual revolvers stuffed into holsters on his thighs. Everything he is wearing along with whatever can be seen of his crimson-red skin is covered in a thin layer of sand. He breezes through the establishment, then sits down at the bar. He pulls down his bandana just enough for his mouth to not be covered. "One whiskey, please. Strongest ya have." He then allows a small smirk to play across his scarred lips.
A scruffy little harengon in many-pocketed pants and a bandanna sneaks up behind him, his fluffy feet hiding the sound, and tries to nick the bullets out of his revolver (sleight of hand25)
The tiefling seems to sense the presence of the harengon behind him, but dismisses it as nothing. He does, however, throw a quick glance behind him. (Perception: 9)
After clearing out his bullets, the harengon hops away
Deadeye taps his foot twice before turning to the kid "Hey! Get on back here ya yungun!"
The tiefling turns it the direction of Deadeye's voice, then sees where he is looking. As he spots the harengon hopping away with all of his ammo, he surges to his feet and lays a hand on one of his knives' handles. "Hey, get back here ya swine-smoochin' bastard!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
“Lucky you, ain’t that somethin’. Water is somethin’ scarce ‘round here.” He pours her another before putting the whiskey back.
She takes a big swig. "I heard. Something about the rich and "powerful" hoarding it. Doesn't surprise me all that much, it's the same thing no matter where you go it seems."
“That’s the thing bout the world, those with the money do whatever they want, a those without either start doin’ what they need to, or find themselves dead in a gutter somewhere.”
"Ain't it the truth. Speaking of doing what needs to done, I'm actually here seeking someone by the name of Deadeye. Know where I can look?" the Tabaxi asks as she finishes off her second glass of whiskey.
He adjust his glasses, carefully "Lookin' fer Deadeye huh? He's somewhere 'round here, last I remember he was servin' people in the saloon." He says, downing another whiskey.
"Hm...I see." she says, realization hitting her but deciding to not comment. "I've hear that he offers some pretty exciting jobs for those with special skills. I'm looking for employment"
He smiles slightly, tapping the counter rhythmically “What kinda job are ya lookin’ fer? The kind that keeps people from goin’ thirsty I imagine.” He takes off the sunglasses, his blind eyes looking them up and down.
*I have one question about the setting: What's the general level of technology for the world? The idea I have is that my character is a robot or some magical construct from one of the shielded cities that had a defect and wasn't doing their job, so the city threw them to the desert and closed the gates behind them, and I wanted to know how feasible that would be.*
*I terms of technology the Shielded cities are far more advanced than the desert or the inside of Draco, but their are constructs and bizarre entities created by the colliding magic of the Spellstorms.£
A tiefling wearing a dusty overcoat on top of a vest, a shirt, some nice pants, and shin-high boots walks into the bar. On his head he wears a wide-brimmed Stetson style hat pulled down low, as well as a bandana covering his mouth and nose. On his hips he has two sheaths, each containing a long, curved knife, and he has dual revolvers stuffed into holsters on his thighs. Everything he is wearing along with whatever can be seen of his crimson-red skin is covered in a thin layer of sand. He breezes through the establishment, then sits down at the bar. He pulls down his bandana just enough for his mouth to not be covered. "One whiskey, please. Strongest ya have." He then allows a small smirk to play across his scarred lips.
A scruffy little harengon in many-pocketed pants and a bandanna sneaks up behind him, his fluffy feet hiding the sound, and tries to nick the bullets out of his revolver (sleight of hand25)
The tiefling seems to sense the presence of the harengon behind him, but dismisses it as nothing. He does, however, throw a quick glance behind him. (Perception: 9)
After clearing out his bullets, the harengon hops away
Deadeye taps his foot twice before turning to the kid "Hey! Get on back here ya yungun!"
The tiefling turns it the direction of Deadeye's voice, then sees where he is looking. As he spots the harengon hopping away with all of his ammo, he surges to his feet and lays a hand on one of his knives' handles. "Hey, get back here ya swine-smoochin' bastard!"
Deadeye taps his foot a few more times, his spurs spinning before he grabs the tiefling by their duster, his teeth gritted, his voice commanding “Get yer hand off that their knife. I ain’t gonna give you a second chance. I’ll get you yer ammo back, but don’t you dare even think ‘bout pullin’ a weapon ‘round no kids like that.”
He cackles, rough but genuine “How do ya think I’m doin’ it then?” He says, pouring them both another whiskey “If yer right the next drink’s be free.” He says, smiling.
He drains the glass “It’s yer spurs. Or maybe just the act of tapping yer feet. Either way, when I came in, you tapped yer feet before ya looked my way. Then just now you tapped them again. Kinda like how bats echolocate Y’know? That’s my guess, so am I right?”
He cackles again, “Looks like I’m gettin’ old if my tells are that obvious.” He pours them another “It’s somethin’ like that, ain’t just my feet though. Ain’t no one expect me to be blind as a bat, less they expect me to see like one. What ya here for pardner?”
“Like I said.” He drains the cup again “If you really are a criminal mastermind, you need someone with skills like mine on your crew.”
He chuckles, “Really? Do I now? Ain’t that a thought.” He begins cleaning the finished glass with the rag “What’s yer name, I like you an’ knowin’ yer name might just help you earn yerself a spot.”
“Most people just call me Mac. Full name is Macallister Erza.”
He nods, tapping his finger on the counter "An' what are ya tryin' to do in my crew?"
"Blow things to bits. I'm what you'd call an explosives expert, if I do say so myself"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
A tiefling wearing a dusty overcoat on top of a vest, a shirt, some nice pants, and shin-high boots walks into the bar. On his head he wears a wide-brimmed Stetson style hat pulled down low, as well as a bandana covering his mouth and nose. On his hips he has two sheaths, each containing a long, curved knife, and he has dual revolvers stuffed into holsters on his thighs. Everything he is wearing along with whatever can be seen of his crimson-red skin is covered in a thin layer of sand. He breezes through the establishment, then sits down at the bar. He pulls down his bandana just enough for his mouth to not be covered. "One whiskey, please. Strongest ya have." He then allows a small smirk to play across his scarred lips.
A scruffy little harengon in many-pocketed pants and a bandanna sneaks up behind him, his fluffy feet hiding the sound, and tries to nick the bullets out of his revolver (sleight of hand25)
The tiefling seems to sense the presence of the harengon behind him, but dismisses it as nothing. He does, however, throw a quick glance behind him. (Perception: 9)
After clearing out his bullets, the harengon hops away
Deadeye taps his foot twice before turning to the kid "Hey! Get on back here ya yungun!"
The tiefling turns it the direction of Deadeye's voice, then sees where he is looking. As he spots the harengon hopping away with all of his ammo, he surges to his feet and lays a hand on one of his knives' handles. "Hey, get back here ya swine-smoochin' bastard!"
Deadeye taps his foot a few more times, his spurs spinning before he grabs the tiefling by their duster, his teeth gritted, his voice commanding “Get yer hand off that their knife. I ain’t gonna give you a second chance. I’ll get you yer ammo back, but don’t you dare even think ‘bout pullin’ a weapon ‘round no kids like that.”
The tiefling lets go of the blade, yanking his duster away from Deadeye's grip. "Weren't gonna pull no blade on a kid, even I know better than that. Ain't ever heard o' intimidation?" He lifts his head high enough for Deadeye to meet his gaze, which allows the him to quickly notice that the tiefling's eyes are literally smoldering at the edges.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
"Blow things to bits. I'm what you'd call an explosives expert, if I do say so myself"
He nods and smiles, tapping the counter once more “Ain’t that somethin’, I was lookin’ fer someone who could help me make some noise on the next heist.”
The tiefling lets go of the blade, yanking his duster away from Deadeye's grip. "Weren't gonna pull no blade on a kid, even I know better than that. Ain't ever heard o' intimidation?" He lifts his head high enough for Deadeye to meet his gaze, which allows the him to quickly notice that the tiefling's eyes are literally smoldering at the edges.
The tiefling would notice that behind the sunglasses, Deadeye is blind “I don’t give two sides of a [gp] whether you were gonna pull er not. I ain’t gonna let no stranger come into town an’ start threatenin’ kids.” He says, beginning to walk back to the saloon with perfect steps, his spurs spinning with every one “Oh, an’ them some interesting eyes ya got.”
"Blow things to bits. I'm what you'd call an explosives expert, if I do say so myself"
He nods and smiles, tapping the counter once more “Ain’t that somethin’, I was lookin’ fer someone who could help me make some noise on the next heist.”
"So am I in?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
"Blow things to bits. I'm what you'd call an explosives expert, if I do say so myself"
He nods and smiles, tapping the counter once more “Ain’t that somethin’, I was lookin’ fer someone who could help me make some noise on the next heist.”
"So am I in?"
“Sounds like it to me pardner, now, some people need help ‘round the town. Someone else is already gatherin’ the yungins, so how ‘bout you find somewhere to help.”
The tiefling lets go of the blade, yanking his duster away from Deadeye's grip. "Weren't gonna pull no blade on a kid, even I know better than that. Ain't ever heard o' intimidation?" He lifts his head high enough for Deadeye to meet his gaze, which allows the him to quickly notice that the tiefling's eyes are literally smoldering at the edges.
The tiefling would notice that behind the sunglasses, Deadeye is blind “I don’t give two sides of a [gp] whether you were gonna pull er not. I ain’t gonna let no stranger come into town an’ start threatenin’ kids.” He says, beginning to walk back to the saloon with perfect steps, his spurs spinning with every one “Oh, an’ them some interesting eyes ya got.”
The tiefling seems to calm down before shooting a confused loo at Deadeye when he mentions his flaming eyes. "I thought you were blind. At least, that's what yer eyes say." The tiefling sighs, his tail wrapping around his left leg. "I should probably go get those bullets back from the rabbit, 'cause if they drop anyone one of them we're gonna have a bit of an explosive problem on our hands." He pulls up the pair of fingerless gloves on his hands and begins to run after the small harengon.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
"Blow things to bits. I'm what you'd call an explosives expert, if I do say so myself"
He nods and smiles, tapping the counter once more “Ain’t that somethin’, I was lookin’ fer someone who could help me make some noise on the next heist.”
"So am I in?"
“Sounds like it to me pardner, now, some people need help ‘round the town. Someone else is already gatherin’ the yungins, so how ‘bout you find somewhere to help.”
"Sure. It's been a pleasure to meetcha' pardner."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
The tiefling lets go of the blade, yanking his duster away from Deadeye's grip. "Weren't gonna pull no blade on a kid, even I know better than that. Ain't ever heard o' intimidation?" He lifts his head high enough for Deadeye to meet his gaze, which allows the him to quickly notice that the tiefling's eyes are literally smoldering at the edges.
The tiefling would notice that behind the sunglasses, Deadeye is blind “I don’t give two sides of a [gp] whether you were gonna pull er not. I ain’t gonna let no stranger come into town an’ start threatenin’ kids.” He says, beginning to walk back to the saloon with perfect steps, his spurs spinning with every one “Oh, an’ them some interesting eyes ya got.”
The tiefling seems to calm down before shooting a confused loo at Deadeye when he mentions his flaming eyes. "I thought you were blind. At least, that's what yer eyes say." The tiefling sighs, his tail wrapping around his left leg. "I should probably go get those bullets back from the rabbit, 'cause if they drop anyone one of them we're gonna have a bit of an explosive problem on our hands." He pulls up the pair of fingerless gloves on his hands and begins to run after the small harengon.
Deadeye waves him off, saying “My eyes sure ain’t able to see, but that don’t make me blind.” He then walks back into the saloon.
"Blow things to bits. I'm what you'd call an explosives expert, if I do say so myself"
He nods and smiles, tapping the counter once more “Ain’t that somethin’, I was lookin’ fer someone who could help me make some noise on the next heist.”
"So am I in?"
“Sounds like it to me pardner, now, some people need help ‘round the town. Someone else is already gatherin’ the yungins, so how ‘bout you find somewhere to help.”
"Sure. It's been a pleasure to meetcha' pardner."
He tips his hat “A pleasure both ways pardner, good to have ya as part o the crew.”
Deadeye is cleaning the saloon with the help of some of the orphan kids, doing it as chores after everyone has cleared out for the day. The orphans all seem healthy despite the water crisis, and Deadeye seems to be happy. His hat is sitting on the counter, his long dirty black hair swinging with every step, his spurs spinning and jingling with wind chimes.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
A newcomer walks into the Draco, the near-silent sounds of whirring servos and metal joints accompanying their light footfalls. They wear a dark grey three-piece suit and mustard yellow tie that would suggest wealth if it wasn't for the obvious signs of wear and tear, with stitches of varying visibility across the whole of their attire. Clashing with their outfit are accessories that seem strictly functional- leather boots, a bandolier with several small vials, a canvas messenger bag resting at their hip alongside a quiver of bolts, and a large, heavy-looking crossbow slung across their back. They appear to be a construct of sorts, with a mixture of mechanical and magical components composing a head that looks designed to somewhat resemble a humanoid face- complete with two blue lights in their eye sockets and a metallic handlebar mustache. Small flakes of gilding in parts hint that, at some point before, their metallic parts appeared almost entirely golden- but years of desert winds and sand have chipped away at the paint and revealed bare steel.
This is Stanley.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
A newcomer walks into the Draco, the near-silent sounds of whirring servos and metal joints accompanying their light footfalls. They wear a dark grey three-piece suit and mustard yellow tie that would suggest wealth if it wasn't for the obvious signs of wear and tear, with stitches of varying visibility across the whole of their attire. Clashing with their outfit are accessories that seem strictly functional- leather boots, a bandolier with several small vials, a canvas messenger bag resting at their hip alongside a quiver of bolts, and a large, heavy-looking crossbow slung across their back. They appear to be a construct of sorts, with a mixture of mechanical and magical components composing a head that looks designed to somewhat resemble a humanoid face- complete with two blue lights in their eye sockets and a metallic handlebar mustache. Small flakes of gilding in parts hint that, at some point before, their metallic parts appeared almost entirely golden- but years of desert winds and sand have chipped away at the paint and revealed bare steel.
This is Stanley.
*Not the metal handlebar.*
They would see the children running around the town, adults trying to rangle them up and put them to bed, an' Deadeye standing on the pouch of the saloon, having a smoke, an' a glass of the hardest whiskey he could get his hands on. He's not wearing his hat, though his sunglasses are fully up, he taps one foot, his spurs ringing rhythmically with the steps. He turns his head to 'stare' at Stanley.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
*I have one question about the setting: What's the general level of technology for the world? The idea I have is that my character is a robot or some magical construct from one of the shielded cities that had a defect and wasn't doing their job, so the city threw them to the desert and closed the gates behind them, and I wanted to know how feasible that would be.*
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
"Hm...I see." she says, realization hitting her but deciding to not comment. "I've hear that he offers some pretty exciting jobs for those with special skills. I'm looking for employment"
*Introing later today!*
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
A mysterious link of chain... (Extended signature). PRAISE JEFF THE EVIL ROOMBA! REALLY cool video.
One of the Warlock Patrons on the forums. Low, low price of your soul, your firstborn child and your liver!
Titles: The Echoing Story Spewer from Drummer, the Endless Maws from Isis, the Mad Murderer from PJ
The tiefling turns it the direction of Deadeye's voice, then sees where he is looking. As he spots the harengon hopping away with all of his ammo, he surges to his feet and lays a hand on one of his knives' handles. "Hey, get back here ya swine-smoochin' bastard!"
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
He smiles slightly, tapping the counter rhythmically “What kinda job are ya lookin’ fer? The kind that keeps people from goin’ thirsty I imagine.” He takes off the sunglasses, his blind eyes looking them up and down.
*I terms of technology the Shielded cities are far more advanced than the desert or the inside of Draco, but their are constructs and bizarre entities created by the colliding magic of the Spellstorms.£
Deadeye taps his foot a few more times, his spurs spinning before he grabs the tiefling by their duster, his teeth gritted, his voice commanding “Get yer hand off that their knife. I ain’t gonna give you a second chance. I’ll get you yer ammo back, but don’t you dare even think ‘bout pullin’ a weapon ‘round no kids like that.”
"Blow things to bits. I'm what you'd call an explosives expert, if I do say so myself"
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
The tiefling lets go of the blade, yanking his duster away from Deadeye's grip. "Weren't gonna pull no blade on a kid, even I know better than that. Ain't ever heard o' intimidation?" He lifts his head high enough for Deadeye to meet his gaze, which allows the him to quickly notice that the tiefling's eyes are literally smoldering at the edges.
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
He nods and smiles, tapping the counter once more “Ain’t that somethin’, I was lookin’ fer someone who could help me make some noise on the next heist.”
The tiefling would notice that behind the sunglasses, Deadeye is blind “I don’t give two sides of a [gp] whether you were gonna pull er not. I ain’t gonna let no stranger come into town an’ start threatenin’ kids.” He says, beginning to walk back to the saloon with perfect steps, his spurs spinning with every one “Oh, an’ them some interesting eyes ya got.”
"So am I in?"
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
“Sounds like it to me pardner, now, some people need help ‘round the town. Someone else is already gatherin’ the yungins, so how ‘bout you find somewhere to help.”
The tiefling seems to calm down before shooting a confused loo at Deadeye when he mentions his flaming eyes. "I thought you were blind. At least, that's what yer eyes say." The tiefling sighs, his tail wrapping around his left leg. "I should probably go get those bullets back from the rabbit, 'cause if they drop anyone one of them we're gonna have a bit of an explosive problem on our hands." He pulls up the pair of fingerless gloves on his hands and begins to run after the small harengon.
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
"Sure. It's been a pleasure to meetcha' pardner."
Yo, I'm Himy (He/him) not as active as I use to be, but I'm here from time to time. I don't got much else to say.
"From the stars of the inner sea, from the tower of insight, from the four corners of paradise, let them know; their story is filled with blessings. Only those free of sin may pass... Garden of Avalon!”
”The elements coalesce, amalgamate, and bring forth the star that interweaves all creation. Bow down with death! Enuma Elish!”
Deadeye waves him off, saying “My eyes sure ain’t able to see, but that don’t make me blind.” He then walks back into the saloon.
He tips his hat “A pleasure both ways pardner, good to have ya as part o the crew.”
Deadeye is cleaning the saloon with the help of some of the orphan kids, doing it as chores after everyone has cleared out for the day. The orphans all seem healthy despite the water crisis, and Deadeye seems to be happy. His hat is sitting on the counter, his long dirty black hair swinging with every step, his spurs spinning and jingling with wind chimes.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)
A newcomer walks into the Draco, the near-silent sounds of whirring servos and metal joints accompanying their light footfalls. They wear a dark grey three-piece suit and mustard yellow tie that would suggest wealth if it wasn't for the obvious signs of wear and tear, with stitches of varying visibility across the whole of their attire. Clashing with their outfit are accessories that seem strictly functional- leather boots, a bandolier with several small vials, a canvas messenger bag resting at their hip alongside a quiver of bolts, and a large, heavy-looking crossbow slung across their back. They appear to be a construct of sorts, with a mixture of mechanical and magical components composing a head that looks designed to somewhat resemble a humanoid face- complete with two blue lights in their eye sockets and a metallic handlebar mustache. Small flakes of gilding in parts hint that, at some point before, their metallic parts appeared almost entirely golden- but years of desert winds and sand have chipped away at the paint and revealed bare steel.
This is Stanley.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*Not the metal handlebar.*
They would see the children running around the town, adults trying to rangle them up and put them to bed, an' Deadeye standing on the pouch of the saloon, having a smoke, an' a glass of the hardest whiskey he could get his hands on. He's not wearing his hat, though his sunglasses are fully up, he taps one foot, his spurs ringing rhythmically with the steps. He turns his head to 'stare' at Stanley.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
'Nothing is beautiful because it lasts.'
'War does not decide who was right, but only who is left.'
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12WUcdu6YBH2USIcmf48FCnLwDh_mGHZJZYZWwLLRzhA/edit?tab=t.0 (For when I'm gone.)