Information
Foundry has a minion!

Convoy the Bombtula

Convoy the Bombtula
Foundry
Legacy Name: Foundry
The

Owner:

Age: 11 years, 11 months, 1 week
Built: July 19th, 2010
Adopted: 11 years, 11 months, 1 week ago
Adopted: July 19th, 2010
Statistics
- Level: 455
- Strength: 1,133
- Defense: 1,132
- Speed: 1,132
- Health: 1,132
- HP: 641/1,132
- Intelligence: 348
- Books Read: 340
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Hotel Chain Owner


I can see, see you there, hanging weightless in the air.
Lost forever, lost before your time. Who is to say? Who is to know the truth? Nothing they said can save you. I waited for you at the edge.
My King, my sovereign. Embers were aglow within your still-beating heart; a mold cast to fight those who padded softly through the war of night, those stagnating like waters gone to ashy black. The rigid metal of mortality's earthly resolve, become one with steel. Blood to salt, hilt to ground. I took from you your arms.
They came then, riding like the rippling tide of a stallion's mane, eyes aflame, teeth gleaming and swathed under a blanket of comforting silk, clawed to tatters by fables long told. Throats were dry, and there was no sound, we could not dream; we were drunk with nightmares enfolded by wings.
Paragons of dust, lost in a wasteland running wild, he will rise from the eternal seeds of a great burning oak, leaving a trail of fiery arrows in his wake. And on swift wings he will come, marching armored in that which no one could steal: the power of war.
... I am the architect of my own destruction ...
Lost forever, lost before your time. Who is to say? Who is to know the truth? Nothing they said can save you. I waited for you at the edge.
My King, my sovereign. Embers were aglow within your still-beating heart; a mold cast to fight those who padded softly through the war of night, those stagnating like waters gone to ashy black. The rigid metal of mortality's earthly resolve, become one with steel. Blood to salt, hilt to ground. I took from you your arms.
They came then, riding like the rippling tide of a stallion's mane, eyes aflame, teeth gleaming and swathed under a blanket of comforting silk, clawed to tatters by fables long told. Throats were dry, and there was no sound, we could not dream; we were drunk with nightmares enfolded by wings.
Paragons of dust, lost in a wasteland running wild, he will rise from the eternal seeds of a great burning oak, leaving a trail of fiery arrows in his wake. And on swift wings he will come, marching armored in that which no one could steal: the power of war.
... I am the architect of my own destruction ...
Pet Treasure

Core of the Island

Professor New Heartbreaker Cybernetic Bust

Handmade Fire Stoker

Melting Kettle

Sooty Brick

Yunium Ore

Bronze Alloy

Iron Ore

Silver Ore

Precious Alloy

Austeel Alloy

Gold Ore

Moonsteel Alloy

Core Alloy

Celestium Ore

Blood Alloy