A small and clearly damaged wooden rowboat drifts near the shore, barely in shape to stay afloat. An elderly tiefling woman with tightly coiled and braided silvery hair, sky-blue skin, and horns resembling those of an aurochs lies in it, unconscious. She is clad in sweeping and hardy robes fit for a long journey and a green hooded cloak, affixed with an ornate brass clasp. She holds a psaltery in her arms loosely, and seems quite dehydrated.
Jenkin's looks over her body, grumbling about another death from careless sailors. She has her son pick them up and bring them into her office in the factory.
The bard stirs as they approach, barely able to rouse herself but definitely alive.
"Bah, nevermind, she be alive." Jenkin rolls her eyes as her son sets them down.
She lets out a halfhearted groan and slightly opens her eyes, but closes them quickly in the harsh sunlight.
Jenkin's pokes her with her cane "Hello there."
*bro sees someone dying and her first instinct is to say hi*
“please… help…” She croaks feebly.
"I was tryin' to but then you woke up." She huffs and kneels down, her bones cracking
The bard cracks a single eye to watch Jenkins, her breaths shallow.
She mutters some words under her breath, casting greater restoration.
A small and clearly damaged wooden rowboat drifts near the shore, barely in shape to stay afloat. An elderly tiefling woman with tightly coiled and braided silvery hair, sky-blue skin, and horns resembling those of an aurochs lies in it, unconscious. She is clad in sweeping and hardy robes fit for a long journey and a green hooded cloak, affixed with an ornate brass clasp. She holds a psaltery in her arms loosely, and seems quite dehydrated.
Jenkin's looks over her body, grumbling about another death from careless sailors. She has her son pick them up and bring them into her office in the factory.
The bard stirs as they approach, barely able to rouse herself but definitely alive.
"Bah, nevermind, she be alive." Jenkin rolls her eyes as her son sets them down.
She lets out a halfhearted groan and slightly opens her eyes, but closes them quickly in the harsh sunlight.
Jenkin's pokes her with her cane "Hello there."
*bro sees someone dying and her first instinct is to say hi*
“please… help…” She croaks feebly.
"I was tryin' to but then you woke up." She huffs and kneels down, her bones cracking
The bard cracks a single eye to watch Jenkins, her breaths shallow.
She mutters some words under her breath, casting greater restoration.
The healing magic certainly helps, but it’s not enough to put her back in perfect condition. She manages to sit up a bit, coughing violently.
He seems to relax a bit. "I see. Are you the same Grandma Jenkins who owns that big factory just over yonder? It's an impressive conversion." He thinks for a second. "So that's how you knew where the valuable parts were."
"I am dear, and yes I did. If someone ain't gonna claim what they left behind, us vultures will take it as our own." She nods "Ya need any help getting stuff outta here? My son can help ya and his sons."
"That would be very nice of you, Ma'am. I'm afraid I don't have much to offer in barter, but I could help maintain your equipment for a while. I used to repair and invent new factory equipment, and I have some smithing skills as well. Right now I'm working on a special engine right now that should be more efficient than our current ones. The only problem is that it needs specially treated oil, and I need to make a machine to process that oil before I finish the engine itself."
"Don't worry bout that son, I don't need anything." She grins, Her bird watching him. She puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles, two men and a boy running over, seeming to have been in a shop nearby "You three, can you help this young man."
A small and clearly damaged wooden rowboat drifts near the shore, barely in shape to stay afloat. An elderly tiefling woman with tightly coiled and braided silvery hair, sky-blue skin, and horns resembling those of an aurochs lies in it, unconscious. She is clad in sweeping and hardy robes fit for a long journey and a green hooded cloak, affixed with an ornate brass clasp. She holds a psaltery in her arms loosely, and seems quite dehydrated.
Jenkin's looks over her body, grumbling about another death from careless sailors. She has her son pick them up and bring them into her office in the factory.
The bard stirs as they approach, barely able to rouse herself but definitely alive.
"Bah, nevermind, she be alive." Jenkin rolls her eyes as her son sets them down.
She lets out a halfhearted groan and slightly opens her eyes, but closes them quickly in the harsh sunlight.
Jenkin's pokes her with her cane "Hello there."
*bro sees someone dying and her first instinct is to say hi*
“please… help…” She croaks feebly.
"I was tryin' to but then you woke up." She huffs and kneels down, her bones cracking
The bard cracks a single eye to watch Jenkins, her breaths shallow.
She mutters some words under her breath, casting greater restoration.
The healing magic certainly helps, but it’s not enough to put her back in perfect condition. She manages to sit up a bit, coughing violently.
A small and clearly damaged wooden rowboat drifts near the shore, barely in shape to stay afloat. An elderly tiefling woman with tightly coiled and braided silvery hair, sky-blue skin, and horns resembling those of an aurochs lies in it, unconscious. She is clad in sweeping and hardy robes fit for a long journey and a green hooded cloak, affixed with an ornate brass clasp. She holds a psaltery in her arms loosely, and seems quite dehydrated.
Jenkin's looks over her body, grumbling about another death from careless sailors. She has her son pick them up and bring them into her office in the factory.
The bard stirs as they approach, barely able to rouse herself but definitely alive.
"Bah, nevermind, she be alive." Jenkin rolls her eyes as her son sets them down.
She lets out a halfhearted groan and slightly opens her eyes, but closes them quickly in the harsh sunlight.
Jenkin's pokes her with her cane "Hello there."
*bro sees someone dying and her first instinct is to say hi*
“please… help…” She croaks feebly.
"I was tryin' to but then you woke up." She huffs and kneels down, her bones cracking
The bard cracks a single eye to watch Jenkins, her breaths shallow.
She mutters some words under her breath, casting greater restoration.
The healing magic certainly helps, but it’s not enough to put her back in perfect condition. She manages to sit up a bit, coughing violently.
"What happened to you?" jenkins asks.
“Hemmed in by another ship and collided with a sea stack… I don’t know if the others made it…”
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.
"That would be very nice of you, Ma'am. I'm afraid I don't have much to offer in barter, but I could help maintain your equipment for a while. I used to repair and invent new factory equipment, and I have some smithing skills as well. Right now I'm working on a special engine right now that should be more efficient than our current ones. The only problem is that it needs specially treated oil, and I need to make a machine to process that oil before I finish the engine itself."
"Don't worry bout that son, I don't need anything." She grins, Her bird watching him. She puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles, two men and a boy running over, seeming to have been in a shop nearby "You three, can you help this young man."
Max waves gently. "This should be easy enough for you guys. I was just going to be hauling metal out of here to my cart so I can take it to my shack. Grandma said that the best stuff is further in, so I'm going to check in there if you want to join me."
A small and clearly damaged wooden rowboat drifts near the shore, barely in shape to stay afloat. An elderly tiefling woman with tightly coiled and braided silvery hair, sky-blue skin, and horns resembling those of an aurochs lies in it, unconscious. She is clad in sweeping and hardy robes fit for a long journey and a green hooded cloak, affixed with an ornate brass clasp. She holds a psaltery in her arms loosely, and seems quite dehydrated.
Jenkin's looks over her body, grumbling about another death from careless sailors. She has her son pick them up and bring them into her office in the factory.
The bard stirs as they approach, barely able to rouse herself but definitely alive.
"Bah, nevermind, she be alive." Jenkin rolls her eyes as her son sets them down.
She lets out a halfhearted groan and slightly opens her eyes, but closes them quickly in the harsh sunlight.
Jenkin's pokes her with her cane "Hello there."
*bro sees someone dying and her first instinct is to say hi*
“please… help…” She croaks feebly.
"I was tryin' to but then you woke up." She huffs and kneels down, her bones cracking
The bard cracks a single eye to watch Jenkins, her breaths shallow.
She mutters some words under her breath, casting greater restoration.
The healing magic certainly helps, but it’s not enough to put her back in perfect condition. She manages to sit up a bit, coughing violently.
"What happened to you?" jenkins asks.
“Hemmed in by another ship and collided with a sea stack… I don’t know if the others made it…”
"Most likely not, yer the only one here after all."
A towering figure is standing out on the docks, walking along their walkways with no real objective in mind. The only immediately apparent feature that can be seen in the ocean fog is their eyes- of which there are far more than two. The eyes themselves seem to be mechanical in nature, and they illuminate where the figure looks as if they were floodlights.
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 small and clearly damaged wooden rowboat drifts near the shore, barely in shape to stay afloat. An elderly tiefling woman with tightly coiled and braided silvery hair, sky-blue skin, and horns resembling those of an aurochs lies in it, unconscious. She is clad in sweeping and hardy robes fit for a long journey and a green hooded cloak, affixed with an ornate brass clasp. She holds a psaltery in her arms loosely, and seems quite dehydrated.
Jenkin's looks over her body, grumbling about another death from careless sailors. She has her son pick them up and bring them into her office in the factory.
The bard stirs as they approach, barely able to rouse herself but definitely alive.
"Bah, nevermind, she be alive." Jenkin rolls her eyes as her son sets them down.
She lets out a halfhearted groan and slightly opens her eyes, but closes them quickly in the harsh sunlight.
Jenkin's pokes her with her cane "Hello there."
*bro sees someone dying and her first instinct is to say hi*
“please… help…” She croaks feebly.
"I was tryin' to but then you woke up." She huffs and kneels down, her bones cracking
The bard cracks a single eye to watch Jenkins, her breaths shallow.
She mutters some words under her breath, casting greater restoration.
The healing magic certainly helps, but it’s not enough to put her back in perfect condition. She manages to sit up a bit, coughing violently.
"What happened to you?" jenkins asks.
“Hemmed in by another ship and collided with a sea stack… I don’t know if the others made it…”
"Most likely not, yer the only one here after all."
“We didn’t sink, just…” She suddenly stops speaking, as though she almost let something slip. “…where am I?”
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.
Near one of the larger docks of Rustport, a figure is seen breaching to the surface, a large and grizzled Snapping Tortle. As the figure grabs hold of one of the ladders and begins hosting herself up, one can see the many scars along the muscular frame and chips in the jagged, spiked shell. As the Tortle reaches the top and stands, her frame towers roughly seven and a half feet tall with a thick hide of marbled blacks and gray with dark green speckling. Strapped to her shell is a huge serrated bony sword and a long and jagged harpoon-like glaive. She grabs at the rope securely tied to her waist and with a supernatural strength unfit for her size begins to drag a gargantuan kraken onto the dock.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
She mutters some words under her breath, casting greater restoration.
[ Discord: #houseofash4056 | PlayStation: RoseGardenTea | Instagram: undertonetrash | Youtube: Area 23 | Steam: RoseGardenTea. ]
- Pronouns: [He/Him/They/Them] Sexuality: [Panromantic/Demisexual] -
"So don't worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs." - Ahti.
"Down we go." he says, tying a rope to a metal stake and starting his decent.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The healing magic certainly helps, but it’s not enough to put her back in perfect condition. She manages to sit up a bit, coughing violently.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"As am I overjoyed to be here. I must get to my work unfortunately, goodbye for now." He continues walking.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
"Life is like a roller coaster, and you just took your seatbelt off."
"Nothing is beautiful because it lasts."
"Don't worry bout that son, I don't need anything." She grins, Her bird watching him. She puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles, two men and a boy running over, seeming to have been in a shop nearby "You three, can you help this young man."
[ Discord: #houseofash4056 | PlayStation: RoseGardenTea | Instagram: undertonetrash | Youtube: Area 23 | Steam: RoseGardenTea. ]
- Pronouns: [He/Him/They/Them] Sexuality: [Panromantic/Demisexual] -
"So don't worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs." - Ahti.
Inside, it is cold, extremely cold. The wall are made out of black rock.
[ Discord: #houseofash4056 | PlayStation: RoseGardenTea | Instagram: undertonetrash | Youtube: Area 23 | Steam: RoseGardenTea. ]
- Pronouns: [He/Him/They/Them] Sexuality: [Panromantic/Demisexual] -
"So don't worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs." - Ahti.
"What happened to you?" jenkins asks.
[ Discord: #houseofash4056 | PlayStation: RoseGardenTea | Instagram: undertonetrash | Youtube: Area 23 | Steam: RoseGardenTea. ]
- Pronouns: [He/Him/They/Them] Sexuality: [Panromantic/Demisexual] -
"So don't worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs." - Ahti.
He sighs "Very well."
[ Discord: #houseofash4056 | PlayStation: RoseGardenTea | Instagram: undertonetrash | Youtube: Area 23 | Steam: RoseGardenTea. ]
- Pronouns: [He/Him/They/Them] Sexuality: [Panromantic/Demisexual] -
"So don't worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs." - Ahti.
The sound of whistling death can be heard as he leaves, silently fading into the distance.
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
"Life is like a roller coaster, and you just took your seatbelt off."
"Nothing is beautiful because it lasts."
“Hemmed in by another ship and collided with a sea stack… I don’t know if the others made it…”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Max waves gently. "This should be easy enough for you guys. I was just going to be hauling metal out of here to my cart so I can take it to my shack. Grandma said that the best stuff is further in, so I'm going to check in there if you want to join me."
*Lethal Company: Commence*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
"Most likely not, yer the only one here after all."
[ Discord: #houseofash4056 | PlayStation: RoseGardenTea | Instagram: undertonetrash | Youtube: Area 23 | Steam: RoseGardenTea. ]
- Pronouns: [He/Him/They/Them] Sexuality: [Panromantic/Demisexual] -
"So don't worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs." - Ahti.
He pulls his coat tighter around himself.
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
A towering figure is standing out on the docks, walking along their walkways with no real objective in mind. The only immediately apparent feature that can be seen in the ocean fog is their eyes- of which there are far more than two. The eyes themselves seem to be mechanical in nature, and they illuminate where the figure looks as if they were floodlights.
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)
*Hey guys, I need to go get lunch. Have fun! :D*
[ Discord: #houseofash4056 | PlayStation: RoseGardenTea | Instagram: undertonetrash | Youtube: Area 23 | Steam: RoseGardenTea. ]
- Pronouns: [He/Him/They/Them] Sexuality: [Panromantic/Demisexual] -
"So don't worry Tom, the sun will shine even into a heap of twigs." - Ahti.
“We didn’t sink, just…” She suddenly stops speaking, as though she almost let something slip. “…where am I?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Hope your lunch is good.*
Local Jokester, Viber, Doctor, and Therapist, I do my best to make your day better, and if I fail I'll try again tomorrow.
"Life is like a roller coaster, and you just took your seatbelt off."
"Nothing is beautiful because it lasts."
*Eat well, gentlelad!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
*see you around! :)*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*Ocean*
Near one of the larger docks of Rustport, a figure is seen breaching to the surface, a large and grizzled Snapping Tortle. As the figure grabs hold of one of the ladders and begins hosting herself up, one can see the many scars along the muscular frame and chips in the jagged, spiked shell. As the Tortle reaches the top and stands, her frame towers roughly seven and a half feet tall with a thick hide of marbled blacks and gray with dark green speckling. Strapped to her shell is a huge serrated bony sword and a long and jagged harpoon-like glaive. She grabs at the rope securely tied to her waist and with a supernatural strength unfit for her size begins to drag a gargantuan kraken onto the dock.