.... ooc name: becca
.... current characters: isla
.... how you found us: live in the walls, found you a lifetime ago, etc.
.... your character's initial fight stats: TANK
....a role play sample (200+ words):
Slowly he untangled his limbs from himself as he sought to stretch out his sleepy state. Along with the need to help blood flow. The tingle in his limbs had become so pesky. A failing body would not be his thought for the day. He needed to figure out where he had stumbled into sleep last night.
Out here in the morning light, he could make out the details of it all.
A piss-poor place, if you asked him. A giant monolith applied too much of an ache to his old joints and the lack of water felt to be a sin. He had grown to know it to be a sign of life in all of his years. So would anything live here, in a barren belly of a valley? A few buzzards hinted that he ought to be wrong in his thought of it being a wasteland.
Or.
Perhaps things had just come here to die. Felt more appropriate. Granted he had no plans to die that day — not that he waltzed around with a mental agenda of when to croak, mind you. It'd happen when it'd happen. For now he could appreciate the fact that dense birds had left something behind for him. The world's tiniest selection. Stringy meat that clung to bones cracked by beasts hungrier than him.
and finally a bit about your character... fodder for the big wild world until isla is older
.... current characters: isla
.... how you found us: live in the walls, found you a lifetime ago, etc.
.... your character's initial fight stats: TANK
....a role play sample (200+ words):
Slowly he untangled his limbs from himself as he sought to stretch out his sleepy state. Along with the need to help blood flow. The tingle in his limbs had become so pesky. A failing body would not be his thought for the day. He needed to figure out where he had stumbled into sleep last night.
Out here in the morning light, he could make out the details of it all.
A piss-poor place, if you asked him. A giant monolith applied too much of an ache to his old joints and the lack of water felt to be a sin. He had grown to know it to be a sign of life in all of his years. So would anything live here, in a barren belly of a valley? A few buzzards hinted that he ought to be wrong in his thought of it being a wasteland.
Or.
Perhaps things had just come here to die. Felt more appropriate. Granted he had no plans to die that day — not that he waltzed around with a mental agenda of when to croak, mind you. It'd happen when it'd happen. For now he could appreciate the fact that dense birds had left something behind for him. The world's tiniest selection. Stringy meat that clung to bones cracked by beasts hungrier than him.
and finally a bit about your character... fodder for the big wild world until isla is older
![[Image: xQVbUiw.png]](https://i.imgur.com/xQVbUiw.png)
![[Image: 5BdYuOb.png]](https://i.imgur.com/5BdYuOb.png)