DatCorn
Shiver me whiskers, Cat Man!
The sun slowly crept over the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape. The air was thick with the sound of shovels striking the earth and the murmurs of excited whispers. Various professions clamored together at the corner of this shadowed lands to excavate lost secrets. Tents dotted the field, each one serving a purpose for excavation or a home for weary but brave souls who had ventured into dangerous lands. Dangers so known and commonplace that knowledgeable scholars, bless their eccentric souls but flabby arms, are to work in pair with skilled warriors who generally stood watch, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger.
Despite the dangers that lurked around every corner, the team was undaunted. They had come here with a purpose, driven by a hunger to uncover the mysteries of the past. They knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but they were determined to succeed. As the days passed, new discoveries were made. Artifacts from a bygone era were unearthed, each one shedding light on a world that had long since passed into myth and legend. The scholars poured over the relics, piecing together a puzzle that had been hidden for centuries. But danger still lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike at any moment. And the ruins were ladened with traps, threatening to burden the scholars with petty issues like bodily harm or sapped souls. Yet the team remained vigilant, working together to protect each other and the knowledge they had uncovered. They knew that the secrets they were uncovering were valuable, but they were also dangerous in the wrong hands.
And no, you don't get to choose your partner.
Enter Gauntzan, or Gaunt as he prefers. Built with a powerful frame towering over most humans and a muscular build accentuated by his fur-covered body, which was a deep shade of golden brown. Fastening the metal on his leather armor in comfort posture, he scritches at his rough and bristled mane flowing over his broad shoulders while strolling with a gait from the medicus tent to the hustling open field. The lumbering Lionkin resigned to spending his night being monitored for adverse complications after triggering a rune contraption that turned him purple and green. He didn't mind the odd discoloration, as was his job and pleasure to endure harm in place of ohers, but to miss an evening of delving into the tavern's deep cups, simply inexcusable. So you would pardon his sour mood and glowered stare as he eyes the parchment with instructions of his reassignment to guard a certain individual. No name given other than "You'll know the human when you see her." The Seven Hells is that suppose to mean! He crumpled the paper in his fist, not sure if he's been made the jest of some prank, and starts touring the excavation sight for any "hers" and "humans" working in solitude and possibly being assaulted by a reanimated construct or something.
(
raisin
)
Despite the dangers that lurked around every corner, the team was undaunted. They had come here with a purpose, driven by a hunger to uncover the mysteries of the past. They knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but they were determined to succeed. As the days passed, new discoveries were made. Artifacts from a bygone era were unearthed, each one shedding light on a world that had long since passed into myth and legend. The scholars poured over the relics, piecing together a puzzle that had been hidden for centuries. But danger still lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike at any moment. And the ruins were ladened with traps, threatening to burden the scholars with petty issues like bodily harm or sapped souls. Yet the team remained vigilant, working together to protect each other and the knowledge they had uncovered. They knew that the secrets they were uncovering were valuable, but they were also dangerous in the wrong hands.
And no, you don't get to choose your partner.
Enter Gauntzan, or Gaunt as he prefers. Built with a powerful frame towering over most humans and a muscular build accentuated by his fur-covered body, which was a deep shade of golden brown. Fastening the metal on his leather armor in comfort posture, he scritches at his rough and bristled mane flowing over his broad shoulders while strolling with a gait from the medicus tent to the hustling open field. The lumbering Lionkin resigned to spending his night being monitored for adverse complications after triggering a rune contraption that turned him purple and green. He didn't mind the odd discoloration, as was his job and pleasure to endure harm in place of ohers, but to miss an evening of delving into the tavern's deep cups, simply inexcusable. So you would pardon his sour mood and glowered stare as he eyes the parchment with instructions of his reassignment to guard a certain individual. No name given other than "You'll know the human when you see her." The Seven Hells is that suppose to mean! He crumpled the paper in his fist, not sure if he's been made the jest of some prank, and starts touring the excavation sight for any "hers" and "humans" working in solitude and possibly being assaulted by a reanimated construct or something.
(
raisin
)
