Information
Foundry has a minion!
Convoy the Bombtula
Convoy the Bombtula
Foundry
Legacy Name: Foundry
The Steamwork Warador
Owner: Ryan
Age: 13 years, 8 months, 4 weeks
Built: July 19th, 2010
Adopted: 13 years, 8 months, 4 weeks ago
Adopted: July 19th, 2010
Statistics
- Level: 466
- Strength: 1,166
- Defense: 1,163
- Speed: 1,164
- Health: 1,162
- HP: 641/1,162
- Intelligence: 362
- Books Read: 352
- 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