11-10-2016, 01:12 PM
Breaking from the forest edge with a worn old hammer in one hand and a marred but still slightly burning flask in the other, Turrent appears with almost every inch of him soaked in smoke and soot. Bits of red peek through the visible skin damage as he hobbles enough into town before falling in the middle of town face first with an audibly strained grunt.
Rolling over onto his back, he stares up with a light but somehow jovial giggle to the sky, his laughter releasing smoke from his lungs. His ponytail at a light smolder instead of charred like usual.
"Well shite...This be a roight mess again. Trial numbah three-six-eight ain't the ticket either. 'Ow in their crazed wriggle of a thinker do they up their gear?....Them squeakers got some trick to it and I ain't stopping till it's mine too."
He continues to lie in town center simply mumbling combinations of chemicals and powders without moving from his spot.
Rolling over onto his back, he stares up with a light but somehow jovial giggle to the sky, his laughter releasing smoke from his lungs. His ponytail at a light smolder instead of charred like usual.
"Well shite...This be a roight mess again. Trial numbah three-six-eight ain't the ticket either. 'Ow in their crazed wriggle of a thinker do they up their gear?....Them squeakers got some trick to it and I ain't stopping till it's mine too."
He continues to lie in town center simply mumbling combinations of chemicals and powders without moving from his spot.
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)