09-26-2016, 06:33 PM
Turrent jars a moment at the pat of his shoulder before feeling the strength flow through him. With this strength he grasps the side of the barrel and hoists it onto his shoulder, his smile almost too wide to bear.
"Now tha' be a rush. Yer a roight one ya is. Ta Mate, I owe ya grand-like."
Turrent then skips off with a whistle, the smoke trail from his pony-tail seeming to react and smolder up stronger.
"Now tha' be a rush. Yer a roight one ya is. Ta Mate, I owe ya grand-like."
Turrent then skips off with a whistle, the smoke trail from his pony-tail seeming to react and smolder up stronger.
A Soot-coated and oddly thin human wearing a strange tattered cloak, torn pants, and a variety of pouches and containers. His pony-tail appears to be singed and he smells of blast powder and a hint of honey.
(OOG - Christian Kimmerer - Medical Marshal)
(OOG - Christian Kimmerer - Medical Marshal)