It’s been perhaps a week after the war was officially declared over, the last giant slain and the portal in the North sealed forever. You were finally allowed to return to your homes, families, and attempt to adjust to a semblance of a normal life. For those without homes, your squadron leaders and House sponsors have prepared temporary quarters for you until you have the means to support yourself. All those that served received a letter, a cordial invitation to a ceremony crowning the war hero Asarco Azerlius as the new Imperator of Zaidan. All those that served will receive medals for their bravery and recognition, over a month-long series of events held in the new city of Selgos.
Your characters have all been summoned for the first day of ceremony, and after weeks of travel, you’ve finally arrived to the city. In the current midsummer, Selgos’s flat plain is in full bloom with beautiful blue and golden flowers, knee high grass swaying in the constant breeze. The city seems to have been built out of a former military base, a large fortress occupying the main square, banners of House Azerlius hanging from the towers. Several cabins have been repurposed into small inns and other shops, a few barracks refurbished and built into almost apartment-like buildings. A large stable stands nearby, with accommodation for more aquatic mounts and people. In the center is a massive arena with a cage-like top, several people cleaning it out and hanging flowered decorations around the edges. A stand is set up right outside of the arena, with a massive sign that says ‘FESTIVAL GAMES! SIGN UP TO WIN PRIZES!’.
Each of you have been told in the letter that your medal award ceremony will begin tomorrow, and to check into the barracks for your room and assigned roommates. Please introduce your characters below.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
With a smile as bright as one of the suns reflecting off the oceans surface, a woman stretches her arms out above her head. With an exaggerated breath out she lets them fall to her sides. She is wearing a classic pirate's outfit, though seemingly altered to fit with more chain for protection. With a red undershirt covered by a brown coat, a couple of.. seemingly unnecessary belts hold her outfit together. Though it's mostly covered by the grass, it's noticeable that she isn't quite wearing any shoes, and then it clicks all at once. With the faint white glow irradiating from the tattoos covering all of her dark--almost chestnut--skin it becomes clear this woman is a Kipling, likely seafaring based off the color of the glow. She pushes her long black curls that comprise her hair back, though it quickly falls back to covering part of the right half of her face. Strapped to her back is a large Warhammer, a deep blue reminiscent of the ocean, covered in patterns of waves. With a deep breath out she looks around.
With a smile as bright as one of the suns reflecting off the oceans surface, a woman stretches her arms out above her head. With an exaggerated breath out she lets them fall to her sides. She is wearing a classic pirate's outfit, though seemingly altered to fit with more chain for protection. With a red undershirt covered by a brown coat, a couple of.. seemingly unnecessary belts hold her outfit together. Though it's mostly covered by the grass, it's noticeable that she isn't quite wearing any shoes, and then it clicks all at once. With the faint white glow irradiating from the tattoos covering all of her dark--almost chestnut--skin it becomes clear this woman is a Kipling, likely seafaring based off the color of the glow. She pushes her long black curls that comprise her hair back, though it quickly falls back to covering part of the right half of her face. Strapped to her back is a large Warhammer, a deep blue reminiscent of the ocean, covered in patterns of waves. With a deep breath out she looks around.
Make an investigation check.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
A tall, athletically built Clarifel with a long, violent-tinged horn goes to check in, a duffel bag and rifle easily carried over one shoulder. She's dressed in simple travelling breeches and a well-made blue blouse, which she wears with the stiff air of someone uncomfortable out of uniform, and her hair is cut in a blonde mullet tucked under an officer's cap, a nod to her occupation outside of it. Besides the firearm, she's armed with an ornate side sword sheathed at her waist and the suggestion of a smaller armament inside of one of her sleeves. She nods at Orcus and Eunomia, if they're present.
With a smile as bright as one of the suns reflecting off the oceans surface, a woman stretches her arms out above her head. With an exaggerated breath out she lets them fall to her sides. She is wearing a classic pirate's outfit, though seemingly altered to fit with more chain for protection. With a red undershirt covered by a brown coat, a couple of.. seemingly unnecessary belts hold her outfit together. Though it's mostly covered by the grass, it's noticeable that she isn't quite wearing any shoes, and then it clicks all at once. With the faint white glow irradiating from the tattoos covering all of her dark--almost chestnut--skin it becomes clear this woman is a Kipling, likely seafaring based off the color of the glow. She pushes her long black curls that comprise her hair back, though it quickly falls back to covering part of the right half of her face. Strapped to her back is a large Warhammer, a deep blue reminiscent of the ocean, covered in patterns of waves. With a deep breath out she looks around.
With a smile as bright as one of the suns reflecting off the oceans surface, a woman stretches her arms out above her head. With an exaggerated breath out she lets them fall to her sides. She is wearing a classic pirate's outfit, though seemingly altered to fit with more chain for protection. With a red undershirt covered by a brown coat, a couple of.. seemingly unnecessary belts hold her outfit together. Though it's mostly covered by the grass, it's noticeable that she isn't quite wearing any shoes, and then it clicks all at once. With the faint white glow irradiating from the tattoos covering all of her dark--almost chestnut--skin it becomes clear this woman is a Kipling, likely seafaring based off the color of the glow. She pushes her long black curls that comprise her hair back, though it quickly falls back to covering part of the right half of her face. Strapped to her back is a large Warhammer, a deep blue reminiscent of the ocean, covered in patterns of waves. With a deep breath out she looks around.
The arena looks almost completely new. Almost. Aripama can see that this is a well hidden repurposed slave fighting arena, often used in larger encampments by soldiers that crave entertainment. Shallow hidden gouge marks and dented metal show the struggle of the previous inhabitants. Many people likely died in here, though now they’re trying to make it into something less.. morbid.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
The arena looks almost completely new. Almost. Aripama can see that this is a well hidden repurposed slave fighting arena, often used in larger encampments by soldiers that crave entertainment. Shallow hidden gouge marks and dented metal show the struggle of the previous inhabitants. Many people likely died in here, though now they’re trying to make it into something less.. morbid.
She sort of whispers to herself. "Well.. I guess I am a fan of recycling..?" She sighs lightly.
With a smile as bright as one of the suns reflecting off the oceans surface, a woman stretches her arms out above her head. With an exaggerated breath out she lets them fall to her sides. She is wearing a classic pirate's outfit, though seemingly altered to fit with more chain for protection. With a red undershirt covered by a brown coat, a couple of.. seemingly unnecessary belts hold her outfit together. Though it's mostly covered by the grass, it's noticeable that she isn't quite wearing any shoes, and then it clicks all at once. With the faint white glow irradiating from the tattoos covering all of her dark--almost chestnut--skin it becomes clear this woman is a Kipling, likely seafaring based off the color of the glow. She pushes her long black curls that comprise her hair back, though it quickly falls back to covering part of the right half of her face. Strapped to her back is a large Warhammer, a deep blue reminiscent of the ocean, covered in patterns of waves. With a deep breath out she looks around.
Make an investigation check.
20
(Ooh, nice. That's an auspicious first roll.)
(this is a sign of whats to come only 20s forever guys)
A human male, wearing the jacket of the uniform so commonly seen on the battlefields, is lighting a cigarette in his hands. After he takes a drag, he places the tin back into one of his pockets. The rest of his outfit is a pair of ragged pants and black leather boots, and the jacket is cinched around a lose red shirt and his waist with a leather belt. The hunting rifle slung over his shoulder is an obvious antique, a remnant from the start of the war, and it has vine designs carved from the butt all the way to the forearm. Revealed in his collar, a burn scar can be seen stretching from his chest all the way down to his right forearm, discoloring his light brown skin. Another scar can be seen, neatly splitting his right eyebrow in half. Laying by his feet are two very small snounds, and they flicks their tail at flies buzzing around their faces.
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
A human male, wearing the jacket of the uniform so commonly seen on the battlefields, is lighting a cigarette in his hands. After he takes a drag, he places the tin back into one of his pockets. The rest of his outfit is a pair of ragged pants and black leather boots, and the jacket is cinched around a lose red shirt and his waist with a leather belt. The hunting rifle slung over his shoulder is an obvious antique, a remnant from the start of the war, and it has vine designs carved from the butt all the way to the forearm. Revealed in his collar, a burn scar can be seen stretching from his chest all the way down to his right forearm, discoloring his light brown skin. Laying by his feet is a small snound, and it flicks its tail at flies buzzing around its face.
The Kipling woman walks over completely unprompted and drops onto her knees in front of him to pet his little friend. She acts as if he's not even there.
A human male, wearing the jacket of the uniform so commonly seen on the battlefields, is lighting a cigarette in his hands. After he takes a drag, he places the tin back into one of his pockets. The rest of his outfit is a pair of ragged pants and black leather boots, and the jacket is cinched around a lose red shirt and his waist with a leather belt. The hunting rifle slung over his shoulder is an obvious antique, a remnant from the start of the war, and it has vine designs carved from the butt all the way to the forearm. Revealed in his collar, a burn scar can be seen stretching from his chest all the way down to his right forearm, discoloring his light brown skin. Laying by his feet is a small snound, and it flicks its tail at flies buzzing around its face.
The Kipling woman walks over completely unprompted and drops onto her knees in front of him to pet his little friend. She acts as if he's not even there.
He looks down and frowns, but doesn't intervene. Another snound, just as small as the first, walks over to her from a bush, its iridescent black scales shimmering in the shade.
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
A human male, wearing the jacket of the uniform so commonly seen on the battlefields, is lighting a cigarette in his hands. After he takes a drag, he places the tin back into one of his pockets. The rest of his outfit is a pair of ragged pants and black leather boots, and the jacket is cinched around a lose red shirt and his waist with a leather belt. The hunting rifle slung over his shoulder is an obvious antique, a remnant from the start of the war, and it has vine designs carved from the butt all the way to the forearm. Revealed in his collar, a burn scar can be seen stretching from his chest all the way down to his right forearm, discoloring his light brown skin. Laying by his feet is a small snound, and it flicks its tail at flies buzzing around its face.
The Kipling woman walks over completely unprompted and drops onto her knees in front of him to pet his little friend. She acts as if he's not even there.
He looks down and frowns, but doesn't intervene. Another snound, just as small as the first, walks over to her from a bush, its iridescent black scales shimmering in the shade.
Her eyes light up with a sharp inhale. "Whooa... Hi there!!" She offers a hand to it slowly, still keeping part of her attention on the first snound.
A human male, wearing the jacket of the uniform so commonly seen on the battlefields, is lighting a cigarette in his hands. After he takes a drag, he places the tin back into one of his pockets. The rest of his outfit is a pair of ragged pants and black leather boots, and the jacket is cinched around a lose red shirt and his waist with a leather belt. The hunting rifle slung over his shoulder is an obvious antique, a remnant from the start of the war, and it has vine designs carved from the butt all the way to the forearm. Revealed in his collar, a burn scar can be seen stretching from his chest all the way down to his right forearm, discoloring his light brown skin. Laying by his feet is a small snound, and it flicks its tail at flies buzzing around its face.
The Kipling woman walks over completely unprompted and drops onto her knees in front of him to pet his little friend. She acts as if he's not even there.
He looks down and frowns, but doesn't intervene. Another snound, just as small as the first, walks over to her from a bush, its iridescent black scales shimmering in the shade.
Her eyes light up with a sharp inhale. "Whooa... Hi there!!" She offers a hand to it slowly, still keeping part of her attention on the first snound.
Its forked tongue flicks across her palm, while the other contorts itself to present its belly. The man exhales a puff of smoke away from the kipling. "Hello to you too."
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
Her eyes light up with a sharp inhale. "Whooa... Hi there!!" She offers a hand to it slowly, still keeping part of her attention on the first snound.
Its forked tongue flicks across her palm, while the other contorts itself to present its belly. The man exhales a puff of smoke away from the kipling. "Hello to you too."
She doesn't look up to him as she pets both of them excitedly. "Hello. You've got some lively little friends here." Her tone is a little cold, contrasting the expression on her face.
A helmeted humanoid figure lands a massive warbat in the clearing, both covered head to toe in armor. They bear the insignia of a Vroth noble House, a soldier judging from the colors. The scarred bat lets out a screech, ruffling its fur in irritation. The figure dismounts and takes a blueish apple out of their pocket, feeding it to the massive bat. The bat settles down a little, letting out a content sizzling sound, like a forge.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
A helmeted humanoid figure lands a massive warbat in the clearing, both covered head to toe in armor. They bear the insignia of a Vroth noble House, a soldier judging from the colors. The scarred bat lets out a screech, ruffling its fur in irritation. The figure dismounts and takes a blueish apple out of their pocket, feeding it to the massive bat. The bat settles down a little, letting out a content sizzling sound, like a forge.
Aria braces for a second and positions herself between the warbat and the snounds. She gives a half wave, half salute -- but regardless of what it was, it seems that now that she isn't serving, she seems to care less about the effort she puts in around people like him. "Tsup. Whatcha need?" She stands up with a quiet grunt of displeasure.
A helmeted humanoid figure lands a massive warbat in the clearing, both covered head to toe in armor. They bear the insignia of a Vroth noble House, a soldier judging from the colors. The scarred bat lets out a screech, ruffling its fur in irritation. The figure dismounts and takes a blueish apple out of their pocket, feeding it to the massive bat. The bat settles down a little, letting out a content sizzling sound, like a forge.
Aria braces for a second and positions herself between the warbat and the snounds. She gives a half wave, half salute -- but regardless of what it was, it seems that now that she isn't serving, she seems to care less about the effort she puts in around people like him. "Tsup. Whatcha need?" She stands up with a quiet grunt of displeasure.
They look over, hand holding onto a lead to the bat. “Hey.” They reply, pausing. “She’s not going to eat your snound pups. Ironchasers are herbivores.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
A helmeted humanoid figure lands a massive warbat in the clearing, both covered head to toe in armor. They bear the insignia of a Vroth noble House, a soldier judging from the colors. The scarred bat lets out a screech, ruffling its fur in irritation. The figure dismounts and takes a blueish apple out of their pocket, feeding it to the massive bat. The bat settles down a little, letting out a content sizzling sound, like a forge.
Aria braces for a second and positions herself between the warbat and the snounds. She gives a half wave, half salute -- but regardless of what it was, it seems that now that she isn't serving, she seems to care less about the effort she puts in around people like him. "Tsup. Whatcha need?" She stands up with a quiet grunt of displeasure.
They look over, hand holding onto a lead to the bat. “Hey.” They reply, pausing. “She’s not going to eat your snound pups. Ironchasers are herbivores.”
She tilts her head slightly, then seems to realize something and steps to the side. "Oh, sorry. Not even mine, but I guess old habits die hard." She shrugs slightly. "I like her." Something seems to dawn on her like an epiphany, causing her stripes to flash a little. "Can- .. Can I pet her?"
She tilts her head slightly, then seems to realize something and steps to the side. "Oh, sorry. Not even mine, but I guess old habits die hard." She shrugs slightly. "I like her." Something seems to dawn on her like an epiphany, causing her stripes to flash a little. "Can- .. Can I pet her?"
They laugh a little. “Sure. Watch the mouth though. She’ll bite your hand clean off, thinking it’s a carrot.” The person removes their helmet, revealing an air genasi in her early twenties. She has snow white hair, coiled into dreads, as well as a deep gray colored skin and copper tinted eyes. Her face has a few tattoos, most being vines and flowers.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fanδ — making a smoothie for meta ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
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It’s been perhaps a week after the war was officially declared over, the last giant slain and the portal in the North sealed forever. You were finally allowed to return to your homes, families, and attempt to adjust to a semblance of a normal life. For those without homes, your squadron leaders and House sponsors have prepared temporary quarters for you until you have the means to support yourself. All those that served received a letter, a cordial invitation to a ceremony crowning the war hero Asarco Azerlius as the new Imperator of Zaidan. All those that served will receive medals for their bravery and recognition, over a month-long series of events held in the new city of Selgos.
Your characters have all been summoned for the first day of ceremony, and after weeks of travel, you’ve finally arrived to the city. In the current midsummer, Selgos’s flat plain is in full bloom with beautiful blue and golden flowers, knee high grass swaying in the constant breeze. The city seems to have been built out of a former military base, a large fortress occupying the main square, banners of House Azerlius hanging from the towers. Several cabins have been repurposed into small inns and other shops, a few barracks refurbished and built into almost apartment-like buildings. A large stable stands nearby, with accommodation for more aquatic mounts and people. In the center is a massive arena with a cage-like top, several people cleaning it out and hanging flowered decorations around the edges. A stand is set up right outside of the arena, with a massive sign that says ‘FESTIVAL GAMES! SIGN UP TO WIN PRIZES!’.
Each of you have been told in the letter that your medal award ceremony will begin tomorrow, and to check into the barracks for your room and assigned roommates. Please introduce your characters below.
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
With a smile as bright as one of the suns reflecting off the oceans surface, a woman stretches her arms out above her head. With an exaggerated breath out she lets them fall to her sides. She is wearing a classic pirate's outfit, though seemingly altered to fit with more chain for protection. With a red undershirt covered by a brown coat, a couple of.. seemingly unnecessary belts hold her outfit together. Though it's mostly covered by the grass, it's noticeable that she isn't quite wearing any shoes, and then it clicks all at once. With the faint white glow irradiating from the tattoos covering all of her dark--almost chestnut--skin it becomes clear this woman is a Kipling, likely seafaring based off the color of the glow. She pushes her long black curls that comprise her hair back, though it quickly falls back to covering part of the right half of her face. Strapped to her back is a large Warhammer, a deep blue reminiscent of the ocean, covered in patterns of waves. With a deep breath out she looks around.
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
Make an investigation check.
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
A tall, athletically built Clarifel with a long, violent-tinged horn goes to check in, a duffel bag and rifle easily carried over one shoulder. She's dressed in simple travelling breeches and a well-made blue blouse, which she wears with the stiff air of someone uncomfortable out of uniform, and her hair is cut in a blonde mullet tucked under an officer's cap, a nod to her occupation outside of it. Besides the firearm, she's armed with an ornate side sword sheathed at her waist and the suggestion of a smaller armament inside of one of her sleeves. She nods at Orcus and Eunomia, if they're present.
I have a weird sense of humor.
I also make maps.(That's a link)
3
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
(Ooh, nice. That's an auspicious first roll.)
I have a weird sense of humor.
I also make maps.(That's a link)
The arena looks almost completely new. Almost. Aripama can see that this is a well hidden repurposed slave fighting arena, often used in larger encampments by soldiers that crave entertainment. Shallow hidden gouge marks and dented metal show the struggle of the previous inhabitants. Many people likely died in here, though now they’re trying to make it into something less.. morbid.
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
She sort of whispers to herself. "Well.. I guess I am a fan of recycling..?" She sighs lightly.
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
(this is a sign of whats to come only 20s forever guys)
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
A human male, wearing the jacket of the uniform so commonly seen on the battlefields, is lighting a cigarette in his hands. After he takes a drag, he places the tin back into one of his pockets. The rest of his outfit is a pair of ragged pants and black leather boots, and the jacket is cinched around a lose red shirt and his waist with a leather belt. The hunting rifle slung over his shoulder is an obvious antique, a remnant from the start of the war, and it has vine designs carved from the butt all the way to the forearm. Revealed in his collar, a burn scar can be seen stretching from his chest all the way down to his right forearm, discoloring his light brown skin. Another scar can be seen, neatly splitting his right eyebrow in half. Laying by his feet are two very small snounds, and they flicks their tail at flies buzzing around their faces.
Extended Sig (Now updated!)
(He/Him)
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
The Kipling woman walks over completely unprompted and drops onto her knees in front of him to pet his little friend. She acts as if he's not even there.
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
He looks down and frowns, but doesn't intervene. Another snound, just as small as the first, walks over to her from a bush, its iridescent black scales shimmering in the shade.
Extended Sig (Now updated!)
(He/Him)
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
Her eyes light up with a sharp inhale. "Whooa... Hi there!!" She offers a hand to it slowly, still keeping part of her attention on the first snound.
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
Its forked tongue flicks across her palm, while the other contorts itself to present its belly. The man exhales a puff of smoke away from the kipling. "Hello to you too."
Extended Sig (Now updated!)
(He/Him)
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
She doesn't look up to him as she pets both of them excitedly. "Hello. You've got some lively little friends here." Her tone is a little cold, contrasting the expression on her face.
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
A helmeted humanoid figure lands a massive warbat in the clearing, both covered head to toe in armor. They bear the insignia of a Vroth noble House, a soldier judging from the colors. The scarred bat lets out a screech, ruffling its fur in irritation. The figure dismounts and takes a blueish apple out of their pocket, feeding it to the massive bat. The bat settles down a little, letting out a content sizzling sound, like a forge.
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
Aria braces for a second and positions herself between the warbat and the snounds. She gives a half wave, half salute -- but regardless of what it was, it seems that now that she isn't serving, she seems to care less about the effort she puts in around people like him. "Tsup. Whatcha need?" She stands up with a quiet grunt of displeasure.
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
They look over, hand holding onto a lead to the bat. “Hey.” They reply, pausing. “She’s not going to eat your snound pups. Ironchasers are herbivores.”
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ
She tilts her head slightly, then seems to realize something and steps to the side. "Oh, sorry. Not even mine, but I guess old habits die hard." She shrugs slightly. "I like her." Something seems to dawn on her like an epiphany, causing her stripes to flash a little. "Can- .. Can I pet her?"
:3
redpelt is my mother she legally adopted me
They laugh a little. “Sure. Watch the mouth though. She’ll bite your hand clean off, thinking it’s a carrot.” The person removes their helmet, revealing an air genasi in her early twenties. She has snow white hair, coiled into dreads, as well as a deep gray colored skin and copper tinted eyes. Her face has a few tattoos, most being vines and flowers.
— δ cyno • he/him • number one paladin fan δ —
making a smoothie for meta
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • redpelt’s biggest fan :) DM, minmaxer, microbiology student, and lover of anything colored red • Φ