ihinka

Innocence Lost: Space Western Science Fantasy (Temporarily Open Again!)

Still here. I'll have to see if my schedule can handle it. But with the added info the concept is looking even better.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

@Lucius Cypher Is there another merchant other than Barthen, specifically in the Underhaven. One Shem would be more familiar with?

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

Shenanigans posted

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

_{Collab with @Amaranth}

As soon as the Captain's instructions were done with and the crew of the Demeter scattered about their duties the expedition members dispersed as well in groups of twos or threes, until only Lysandra and El remained standing on the deck. A few feet apart, staring awkwardly at each other.

By the Gods you look like Death warmed over! El thought inspecting the Lady Lysandra from head to tow. How many times do I have to tell you that the only thing you will find at the bottom of a bottle or a glass is foul breath. Elle scrutinized her fellow aristocrat for another moment. She could practically smell the hangover on Lysandra. Oh, there was no actual smell, but the signs were all there. El's features relaxed, becoming imperceptible for a fraction of a second, before a huge grin split her countenance. She pounced!

"Well, well, what an auspicious happenstance, my ladyship Lysandra!" Elle attached herself on Lysandra's right arm and began tugging. "It would appear there's only the two of us left. Lucky me!" El knew perfectly well how independent Lysandra was and how she hated being forced to do anything against her will. So this little manhandling of Elle's... Well, womanhandling rather... Was probably the icing on the cake. But it was just how the two of them were. They weren't friends... exactly. Certainly not enemies. There was a healthy dose of rivalry, true. But calling them frienemies would amount to judging their relationship only skin deep.

No! What the two of them were was far more complicated. One thing was clear though. The two of them loved pushing each other's buttons. Too much even. And, boy, did they know which buttons to push.

So Elle made sure to push. Hard! She tugged Lys even closer to her and dragged her bellow deck to Elle's own cabin. Once inside, El shoved Lysandra to sit on the narrow cot and divested herself of her satchel and leather jacket.

"So..." The Countess began, her face splitting grin still present. "What does the lady Brennenburg think of our little adventure so far?!" Elle dragged the single chair in the cabin in front of the bed and straddled it crossing her arms over the back. "Is the cloak and dagger to your liking, milady?" El knew Lysandra was the consummate adventurer and lived for the rush of adrenaline that accompanied each new journey. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and questioningly at the same time.

Lysandra blearily listened to the Captain's briefing, but made no move to vacate the area as the rest of the crew and party dissipated throughout the ship. She would move in her own time. There was a long journey ahead of them, and the ship would keep going if she stood here for a few more minutes, half asleep with the beginnings of a piercing headache. Lys sensed someone else had not moved either, and Lys had a feeling she knew who it was.

Lys turned slowly, "Elle...." she croaked out before being pounced on like a mouse before a tomcat. She shook her arm uselessly as Elle tugged on it over and over while talking her ear off (as she was wont to do.) "Yesss... very auspicious- how do you do Lady Elle, so nice to see you again." Lysandra droned, her voice dripping with sarcasm like a poison, while also remaining surprisingly monotone. She stared at the wall as she spoke, her face a mask of stone, albeit translucent stone that betrayed a nasty hangover. She admired the other woman's, how shall we say, childlike energy. It was a wonder how she managed to remain so upbeat in boring, dull, dreary high society.

Suddenly the tugging turned to pulling and Lys realised Elle was scooting her along down the hall, presumably to a room instead of the hallway. They reached Elle's room and Lys half-fell-half-sat into a cot and looked over at the other woman. This felt like an interrogation. And only a half friendly one.

"I have not made up my mind. I had visitors last night. And I'm not talking about the alcohol either. I trust they visited you as well?" Her response was surprisingly candid. It even slightly surprised Lys. She supposed it was the hangover. in her current state, Lady von Brennenburg did not feel like using flowery language. Thinking too much right now made her temples throb in protest. At least her and Elle were on the same side this time.

Concern cracked El's cheery expression. The hangover was one thing. But hearing that someone visited Lysandra made El's skin crawl. So the bastards are targeting us because of the expedition after all. Elle ran unconsciously the tops of her nails over her lips lost in her thoughts. The Baron is really on to something then! But what?! The Garden of Eden is mostly a myth. And not one that is connected to riches or the likes. Who would be so interested in an expedition to find its location as to put our group under surveillance?! As the nail of El's index finger was running slowly, almost seductively over her lower lip, it suddenly stopped mid-motion. The Countess blinked once and was out of the trance state in an instant.

Elle shook her head as she stood up from her chair. Since she was the first to board the Demeter she'd permitted herself the liberty to ask for a small pitcher of milk to be brought to her cabin. She took a glass from the single shelf and poured the milk in. After rummaging for a second in her satchel she produced a small vile filled with what looked like ash and a packet of crackers. El uncorked the vile and poured some of the ash in the milk, stirred it well, opened the packet of crackers and turned to Lysandra. She pointed a finger at her.

"I've been told by reliable sources that a tussle between the sheets is the best cure for hangover, but unfortunately for you I'm not in that charitable of a mood." Elle winked at Lys and handed her the glass of milk and crackers. "So the next best thing will have to do. Here, drink this first and then have some crackers. I doubt you'll be able to hold anything else down anyways." The Countess shook her head. "I don't know why you keep doing this to yourself when you damn well know you can't hold your liquor."

Elle straddled back her chair, her eyes urging Lysandra to take her hangover medicine. "And, yes, when I got back home I was indeed informed that the estate was under surveillance. Though no one had the courage or the foolhardiness to approach me or my kin." For a moment El's eyes flashed with uncontained anger at the thought of people threatening her father and Preston Senior. "We managed to give the buggers the slip and I arrived here without further trouble." El sighed and looked out of the cabin window with a wistful expression on her face. "Makes you wonder what that old goat, the Baron, stumbled over." Elle shifted her gaze back at Lysandra, the concern from before now again evident on her face. "It doesn't look like you were physically threatened or anything at the very least." The Countess made it a point to run her gaze up and down over Lys' body. And since the woman made it a point to keep well in shape, a rather fine body it was! "Well, I can't be sure of that without a more detailed examination, of course." El cracked a grin. "So tell me. What did this visitor want?"

Lysandra watched El take in what she had said about 'visitors'. Though she said nothing, and whirled around the small room, mixing together many seemingly bizarre ingredients into a glass of milk, Elle's expression told a different story. Finally Elle, handed the glass of milk and some crackers to Lys, who smiled gratefully. "Danke." Lys responded in what almost passed for a cheerful voice. She sipped the strange concoction, hoping that it would indeed cure her hangover, regardless of the strange aftertaste. After nibbling on a cracker, Lysandra shrugged, "I like to drink."

Finally Elle stated what her expression had hinted at; she too had visitors, although apparently they had not been as forthright as they had with the Lady von Brennenburg. "Clearly someone powerful thinks it is important. And no, they did not threaten me physically. Apparently they had expected me to join them with no questions asked. Strange, yes?" Lysandra saw the other woman scanning her body. She never could tell whether Elle was going to attack her or kiss her. They both seemed equally likely given past encounters between the two. "They spoke of some great change and new empires and a united Deutschland." Lys continued, waving her hand around while describing these vague concepts, the haze of the previous night only increased by the hangover.

Elle observed Lysandra as she nibbled on the crackers and sipped, even if a bit suspiciously, at the milk. Of course the impromptu breakfast would not magically cure the hangover, but it would at least maybe settle Lys' stomach and put her in a less foul mood. At lady Brennenburg's assertion that she liked to drink El shook her head and sighed a bit.

"To each their own, I suppose." She stated and didn't comment further on the subject. "And so let me see if I've grasped the gist of your nightly visitation." Again The Countess' nails began caressing her lower lip as she was considering Lysandra's words. "They came to you and tried to appeal to your... what? Nationalistic spirit?! What on Earth could they believe is in the Congo that would allow them to do as they said?!" Elle knew of some societies in Germany that practiced occult beliefs and thought themselves as inheritors of ancient secrets and knowledge that would aid them in realizing their ideals of a pure Arian society. Could it be that we are targets of such misguided individuals?

El fixed Lysandra with a hard stare. "Well, one could assume that since you are here, you told them to sod off." The Countess leaned forward a bit. The chair squeaking plaintively underneath her weight. El knew Lysandra to be a true adventurer who lived for the journey and the thrill of it and hated failing in an endeavor. She also harbored a great respect for her father. Elle didn't think the lady Brennenburg would be swayed by nationalistic notions and promises of a united fatherland. Still... better safe than sorry, the Countess thought. "Make no mistake, though. Should you choose to betray me and this group of explorers and adventurers, I will never stop hunting you!"

For a moment Elle's face was harsh and cold mask, and in the next instance the ever-present grin reappeared and the spell was broken. "Wouldn't that be fun?!" She winked at Lysandra and once again entered her pondering mode. "We should probably reconvene with the others. See if they'd had similar experiences with nightly visits. Maybe we can piece together what these people want with us and what they expect us to find that is so important that can help them build a new and improved Deutschland." Elle once again fixed her gaze on her fellow aristocrat. "Feeling any better?" She rested her chin on her arms that she had crossed over the chair's back. "If you want you can take a nap. I promise I won't lay a hand on you." Elle paused, mischief written all over her face. "Maybe just a finger or two." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and chuckled.

Lys took her time in imbibing the strange concoction as she listened to Elle summarise Lys's recollection of the night before. She had to admit, the Countess did get most of the events right, probably more so than Lys had remembered, seeing as the night was basically an alcohol-induced haze at this point. Maybe Elle knew Lysandra better than Lysandra knew Lysandra. At this point in their 'relationship' it would not surprise her. Lysandra gave an ambivalent shrug. "That is more or less what happened, yes. As for the object of their desire? I do not know. One would imagine it would have to be what the Baron showed us last night."

Lys took another cautious sip of the milk and a nibble of the crackers. "Mhm. I chased him out of my apartment promptly. Although what he said on his way out the door troubles me. He said we would see each other again very soon." Lys lowered her voice and sat up slightly as she spoke the last sentence, as if she feared he could be on the ship this very moment. After finishing, she lay back down and gave a coy smile. She found it highly amusing how Elle could switch from being so concerned about her to threatening to hunt her down forever and back again. "I would hope so. I'd show you the same courtesy, you know."

"Hm, that doesn't sound good at all. We should proceed forward with extra caution, knowing that they promised you to show themselves again. And soon at that." Elle stood up from the chair, putting it back in front of the tiny desk that also doubled as a table. She smiled warmly at Lysandra who was stretching her body on the cot. "Take that nap now. I'll keep watch." The Countess pulled a notebook from her satchel. "I have some stuff to do anyways and I don't have a hangover to sleep off." El winked at Lys, sat in the chair and began scribbling her thoughts in the notebook.

Lysandra nodded to her companion and set her drink and crackers down. "Do you think it would be wise to keep this to ourselves or share it with the others? One of them could be a traitor." She asked, almost rhetorically. Lysandra yawned as she stretched out. "Yes, I think a nap would suit me well," she agreed, "I trust you will not strangle me in my sleep?" Lys added with a wink as she folded her arms behind her head. She closed her eyes and let the soft scratching of Elle's pencil lull her into a much-needed rest.

"Strangle, no. And since I already promised not to attack your virtue, sadly I'll just have to settle for watching over your beauty sleep." Elle threw over her shoulder quietly as Lysandra was nodding off. She continued scribbling in her notebook pondering Lys' suggestion. That one of them might be a traitor. Is it really possible? I mean I can vouch for Al with certainty. I somehow would find it hard to swallow if Florence turned out to be a spy. Although who really knew. Spies ware like that. They were good at making people believe whatever they decided. Maybe instead of bringing what had happened to them to the group as a matter of consideration they could simply bait the others to reveal if they had similar visits by commenting on the cloak and dagger switcheroo of their meeting place.

Elle put the notebook away and stood up, taking her satchel and jacket. She laid the jacket on the floor and the satchel on top and lay down. All in all, she'd slept in far worse conditions that this.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

"Ya sold me garbage, Chodok!" The grizzled, dirty looking man rasped at the master crafter. "Ya said it waz dis fancy new c'traption and instead it broke right'way." The man had missing teeth and a matted disgusting looking beard. His eyes were shifty and full of malice. He was leaning over the counter, spitting away his, as far as he was concerned, righteous indignation. "Now yer gonna fix it, and yer gonna fix it right an' not aks a penny of me or oy'll..."

Before he could finish his rant there was a shift in the air and a slender tabaxi form had wrapped itself around the stubby, blubbery creature. "You'll what, Jarkyt?!" Shem'et hissed menacingly at the old fool. She had twisted his left arm behind his back and her right hand had seized the man's throat. Sharp claws extended from her tabaxi fingers, grazing the dirty skin of the neck. Shem scratched the claws across the skin to further make her point. Not hard enough to break the surface, but still enough to raise some nasty looking red welts. Her feline eyes flicked between the interloper and her master and she saw the warning in the old man's eyes. Shem'et fell silent but did not relinquish her prey. Instead she followed with her eyes the movements of Chodok, who calmly stood up from his stool.

"Now, Jarkyt..." He began at length. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten our agreement upon your purchase of the item." The old artisan opened a drawer of his work table and produced a folded parchment. "But just in case you did forget, I have the thing to jog your memory." Master No cleared his throat and started reading the note aloud. 'I, Jarkyt the Leech Collector, agree to purchase this prototype item only under the promise that I will wield it carefully and gently as it is a delicate implement. If I fail to do so I forfeit the right to seek recompense from its inventor. And should I damage the prototype as a result of misuse I must pay for any repairs necessary out of my own pocket.' Chodok raised the paper at Jarkyt's eyelevel. "You sealed it with your own blood." Chodok stated calmly. "And should you try to deny that fact. I'm sure the Lady Lucilia can clear this matter for us."

Jarkyt, still held firmly by Shem'et, paled visibly at the mention of Underhave's vampire leader. He gulped audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down frantically, causing the tabaxi's claws to dig deep enough to draw blood. The man yelped pitifully and his demeanor changed even further. He went from raging mad, to meek and obedient in seconds. "Oy'm sorry, master No. Oy meant no 'fence. Oy'll pay fer da r'pairs miself!" Jarkyt whined and felt himself released from the hold. His right hand immediately went to his throat and when it came back it held a few drops of his blood. Jarkyt gulped once more and made a side step to get further away from Shem'et. He'd hoped to catch the old tinkerer on his own and bully him into fixing the item free of charge. He knew damn well it was his own fault for the bloody thing getting broke. Jarkyt remembered too well the agreement he'd signed and that he wasn't s'posed to handle the implement roughly and knew he'd been public enough in doing just that. So with full knowledge of this violation he'd went to Chodok's shop hoping that damned tabaxi apprentice of his wouldn't be there to protect the old sod. His gamble hadn't paid off and now he was going to be forced to pay for the damned repairs as he needed the tool.

"I'm glad we understand each other." Master No smiled graciously. "That'll be five silver for the repairs and you can come back for your implement in three days."

"Yis, thank'y, Master No." The grubby man replied defeated, throwing a hateful glance at Shem'et.

"I swear, girl, the way you move sometimes!" Chodok exclaimed once the two of them were alone in the shop. "If I had to speculate, I'd have to say you had some military training in the past."

Shem's feline face scrunched into a frown. She didn't like to think about her past much. To this day none of her memories had returned to her and the woman had resigned herself to the fact. Plus, she was happy where she was and with what she was doing. Crafting was honest work and she also got to work on fanciful inventions with her master teacher. She didn't much care for her past or what she'd been back then. And it irritated her slightly when it was brought up. But she respected Master No way too much to ever say it out loud.

"I would think every living being would go for the jugular." The tabaxi smirked. "And with these..." She extended her claws, which had retracted as soon as she'd released Jarkyt. "One could assume that going for the jugular would be even more to my advantage."

The old crafter shook his head. "It's not just now. I've seen you move like that on many of occasion. Fluid and practiced like. Not just something that can be attributed to your innate tabaxi agility. Almost like... Like muscle memory." The man mused. "Like how if I ever lost my memories and was handed crafting tools, my hands would make the movements on their own even if I needed to be shown at first."

Shem shrugged. "Regardless... I'm happy with how my life is now. I don't care enough to know what I was to go trying out fighting moves and stances."

Chodok sighed. "I know you feel comfortable with apprenticing for me, lass. And I've come to love you like a daughter. But the past has a way of haunting us." The artisan put a hand on the slender tabaxi's shoulder. "You're a good, kind lass. Of that I couldn't be more sure. But we all have some skeletons in our closets. I just don't want yours catching you unprepared."

Shem's eyes softened and she hugged the old man. "Thank you, master. I know you say this out of love. I'll try to be prepared if such a day should come." She stepped back and looked Chodok in the eyes.

"I can ask you nothing more than that!" He nodded firmly. "Now!" He clapped his hands. "I do have some errands I would ask you to run for me. Would you mind terribly fixing that fool Jarkyt's tool? And then we'll make him way two extra days for being such a rude git!" Chodok chuckled at that. "And once you're done with that, would you run over to Bookie at the mines. Whatever's happening there is delaying our iron supply and we're already running low on ingots." Chodok scratched his stubble pensively. "See if you can help them with whatever is keeping the mines closed. Our business will be ruined if we can't have fresh iron to work with!"

"Of course, master." Shem hesitated. It wasn't rare for old Chodok to relinquish repairs of his own inventions to Shem'et, but he generally liked to do those on his own. 'It’s a matter of crafter's pride!' He often said. So her curiosity was peaked when he delegated the repair of this invention to her. "May I ask what you're working on?"

"It is still too early in development." Chodok shook his head. "I'll tell you when the time is right." He nodded firmly, his eyes becoming distant with thoughts of his new project. "Yes, when it's time!" He confirmed and scurried to the depths of the workshop.

Shem smiled. If her master said he'll tell her when the time is right, she didn't doubt he would. The two of them often worked on inventions in tandem. And even if they both had their own projects, they would always share what the other one was working on. To get opinions and ideas.

---

As soon as Shem'et finished repairs on Jarkyt's tool, the tabaxi ventured outside of Underhaven and headed for the Black Mines. She caught sight of the tall Firbolg and approached in her quiet feline fashion.

"Good day, master Bookie." She greeted with a smile. "I come on behalf of master Chodok to inquire about our shipment of iron ingots. We are running low and with the mines closed off, the master is worried our business will suffer. If there is anything I can do to help resolve the situation? Talk to someone? Offer my skills? I may be a crafter, but I know how to use these quite well." Shem demonstrated her sharp claws. "And I'm very agile and stealthy!" She finished, looking hopeful.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

@Lucius Cypher I'll send it over PM.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

I'll endeavour to catch up with the IC and post as soon as possible.

@Lucius Cypher One question. Would you be adverse to firearms and the gunslinger archetype for fighter?

Gaia Frontier (5e)

Shem'et

Name: Shem'et
Race: Tabaxi
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Level: 0
Proficiency: +1
Health: 3
Stats:
Strength - 10 (+0) /carrying capacity - 50lbs/
Dexterity - 16 (+3)
Constitution - 14 (+2)
Intelligence - 10 (+0)
Wisdom - 14 (+2)
Charisma - 11 (+0)

Proficient Skills: Perception (+3), Stealth (+4), History (+1), Insight (+3)
Proficient Tools: Tinkerer's tools, Smith's tools

Traits:
Speed - Your base walking speed is 30 feet.
Darkvision - You have a cat's keen senses, especially in the dark. You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.
Feline agility - Your reflexes and agility allow you to move with a burst of speed. When you move on your turn in combat, you can double your speed until the end of the turn. Once you use this trait, you can't use it again until you move O feet on one of your turns.
Cat's talent - You have proficiency in the Perception and Stealth skills.
Cat's claws - Because of your claws, you have a climbing speed of 20 feet. In addition, your claws are natural weapons, which you can use to make unarmed strikes. If you hit with them, you deal slashing damage equal to 1d4 + strength (+0), instead of the bludgeoning damage normal for an unarmed strike.
Respect of the Stout Folk - As well respected as clan crafters are among outsiders, no one esteems them quite so highly as dwarves do. You always have free room and board in any place where shield dwarves or gold dwarves dwell, and the individuals in such a settlement might vie among themselves to determine who can offer you (and possibly your compatriots) the finest accommodations and assistance.
Languages - Common, Deep Speech, Dwarvish

Abilities: None
Inventory: A set of artisan's tools /tinkerer's tools/, a maker's mark chisel used to mark your handiwork with the symbol of the clan of crafters you learned your skill from, a set of traveler's clothes, and a pouch containing 5 gp and a gem worth 10 gp.

Background: Shem'et doesn't remember anything from before she was thirty-one years old. She was found beaten within an inch of her life in the workshop of an eccentric old crafter, who got driven to Underhaven by his fellow crafters for his weird proclivities to design and craft all sorts of bizarre contraptions. Chodok Nevus Ro was his name. A right character to be sure, but kind at heart. He took it upon himself to nurse the tabaxi woman back to full health with the help of an old cleric buddy of his. It took some trying and a fair amount of time, but they managed to bring her back from the brink.

When Shem'et came to, confused and without any memory of her past life Chodok once again took pity on the young woman and let her stay with him as his apprentice. He began showing her the ropes and teaching her to become a fine crafter. Since he, himself, was a mighty fine craftsman who lived and worked in Underhaven only because his craft was not acknowledged by the official craft guilds in Frontier Town. So Shem'et had a mighty fine teacher who quickly discovered her natural tabaxi dexterity and sought to fine-tune it. Shem'et was a fast learner and loved the craft. Be it from crafting the most mundane objects they were commissioned to create. To her master teacher's more bizarre projects and inventions. Especially those even!

At thirty-three, two years after waking up in Chodok's humble abode, Shem'et is happy working side by side with him on commissions to put food on the table and tinker with various inventions to satisfy the crafter's urge.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

@Lucius Cypher Yeah... sorry about the cat's claws... I copied the text of the ability from my dicecloud sheet, which has the +1 from the skill score I was using for the character when I originally created it >.< I forgot I allotted the scores differently this time around.

I added the proficiency bonus to my proficient skills as well as tinkerer's tools to the inventory. And I changed the years to fit the timeline for the Frontier town.

It's all edited into the original CS post.

I hope it's all okay now.

Gaia Frontier (5e)

@Lucius Cypher She be done!

Shem'et

Name: Shem'et
Race: Tabaxi
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Level: 0
Proficiency: +1
Health: 3
Stats:
Strength - 10 (+0)
Dexterity - 16 (+3)
Constitution - 14 (+2)
Intelligence - 10 (+0)
Wisdom - 14 (+2)
Charisma - 11 (+0)

Proficient Skills: Perception (+3), Stealth (+4), History (+1), Insight (+4)
Proficient Tools: Tinkerer's tools, Smith's tools

Traits:
Darkvision - You have a cat's keen senses, especially in the dark. You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.
Feline agility - Your reflexes and agility allow you to move with a burst of speed. When you move on your turn in combat, you can double your speed until the end of the turn. Once you use this trait, you can't use it again until you move O feet on one of your turns.
Cat's talent - You have proficiency in the Perception and Stealth skills.
Cat's claws - Because of your claws, you have a climbing speed of 20 feet. In addition, your claws are natural weapons, which you can use to make unarmed strikes. If you hit with them, you deal slashing damage equal to 1d4 + strength (+0), instead of the bludgeoning damage normal for an unarmed strike.
Respect of the Stout Folk - As well respected as clan crafters are among outsiders, no one esteems them quite so highly as dwarves do. You always have free room and board in any place where shield dwarves or gold dwarves dwell, and the individuals in such a settlement might vie among themselves to determine who can offer you (and possibly your compatriots) the finest accommodations and assistance.
Languages - Common, Deep Speech, Dwarvis

Abilities: None
Inventory: A set of artisan's tools /tinkerer's tools/, a maker's mark chisel used to mark your handiwork with the symbol of the clan of crafters you learned your skill from, a set of traveler's clothes, and a pouch containing 5 gp and a gem worth 10 gp.

Background: Shem'et doesn't remember anything from before she was thirty-one years old. She was found beaten within an inch of her life in the workshop of an eccentric old crafter, who got driven to Underhaven by his fellow crafters for his weird proclivities to design and craft all sorts of bizarre contraptions. Chodok Nevus Ro was his name. A right character to be sure, but kind at heart. He took it upon himself to nurse the tabaxi woman back to full health with the help of an old cleric buddy of his. It took some trying and a fair amount of time, but they managed to bring her back from the brink.

When Shem'et came to, confused and without any memory of her past life Chodok once again took pity on the young woman and let her stay with him as his apprentice. He began showing her the ropes and teaching her to become a fine crafter. Since he, himself, was a mighty fine craftsman who lived and worked in Underhaven only because his craft was not acknowledged by the official craft guilds in Frontier Town. So Shem'et had a mighty fine teacher who quickly discovered her natural tabaxi dexterity and sought to fine-tune it. Shem'et was a fast learner and loved the craft. Be it from crafting the most mundane objects they were commissioned to create. To her master teacher's more bizarre projects and inventions. Especially those even!

At thirty-three, two years after waking up in Chodok's humble abode, Shem'et is happy working side by side with him on commissions to put food on the table and tinker with various inventions to satisfy the crafter's urge.