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tazofthehollow · 6 months ago

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american money

chapter 1: a ghost in the house.

summary: bobby singer was a lot of things, but no one expected him to be a father. after his wife passed he finds himself raising his little girl alone. Y/n Singer. the day the Winchesters show up unexpectedly, is the day things change forever.

warnings: (character death mentioned, Karen bobby’s wife), no smut, yearning, story starts as you & dean are children, alcohol & tobacco use. (i’m sure there’s more just lmk)

the Singer Salvage yard sat on the edge of Sioux falls, a spiraling maze of rusted cars, forgotten engines, & the occasional stray cat. it was the kind of place most locals avoided unless they needed a specific part that they could only come to Bobby Singer for. most knew him as the town drunk, the guy who’s stumble into the sheriffs drunk tank more times than anyone could ever count back in the day.

but for hunters, bobby was something else entirely. his house was a way point, you knew this. you grew up knowing this. his phone was always ringing off the hook with desperate calls for his advice. most people thought he was just a cranky ol’ drunk redneck, but in the hunting world. Bobby Singer was a fuckin legend.

but that definitely didn’t stop any of the whispers in town, especially when they found out he was harboring a daughter.

the screen door slammed shut, jarring the door frame behind the one & only Bobby Singer as he staggered into the kitchen. his arms weighed down by a sack of groceries & a 6 pack of beer. the clink of the bottles echoed through the quiet house. he paused, staring at the faint light coming from under your door.

“you planning on coming out anytime soon or am i raising a damn hermit?” he called out, his voice rough but teasing.

silence.

Bobby sighed & sat the groceries down on the counter, trudging his way up the stairs to your door. “June bug” he said again, softer this time “i know you’re awake”

there was a quite shuffle behind your door, & it slowly creaked open. the hinges prying & withering from how the house aged. your door cracked enough for a wild head of hair to peek out. eleven year old you eyed your father suspiciously “you didn’t forget the peanut butter this time, did you?”

bobby grunted, turning to the kitchen & grabbing the sack of groceries. he slowly returns holding the jar up like a trophy. “one smooth, extra-large jar of peanut butter. happy now kiddo?”

your door opened a bit wider, the hinges creaking a bit more as you shuffled out. you were smaller for your age, but your sharp eyes & the grease stains lining your nail beds made you seem years older. “thanks” you muttered, snatching the jar & turning to retrieve back to your room.

“hey!” bobby barked, & you froze mid step. “you’re not holding up in there all night. suppers in an hour. & you’re helping.”

“helping with what daddio?” you challenged, turning around.

“with cooking kid. you can’t live on peanut butter sandwiches & ramen for forever ya know?”

you wrinkled your nose but decided against arguing. bobby watched you retreat back in your room, the door closing softly this time. he sighed again as he ran a hand down his face. raising a kid alone was never in his cards, karen was supposed to be here. she wasn’t supposed to die. hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was doing this whole “parenting thing” right. but you were his, the only part of Karen he had left & he knew you were her pride & joy. he refused to let either of his girls down, ever again.

an hour later, you stood on a stool beside bobby, stirring a pot of chili with a concentration that made you look like you were defusing a bomb.

“not so fast” bobby said, watching you. “you’re gunna splash it everywhere junebug”

“i know what im doing daddy” you shot back as you slowed your movements

“sure you do” he muttered. “that’s why the last time you tried this, we ended up with chili on the ceiling”

you shot your eyes up, sure enough there was the big red stain above the stove. the aftermaths of the horrific chili incident from last year. a smirked crossed your face, a rare flash of mischief that bobby hasn’t seen in a long time.

“you’re just mad because it was better than yours old man”

bobby snorted “yeah yeah you keep telling yourself that”

you ate at a small kitchen table, one that adorns all your favorite memories. the one that used to be filled with so much love & laughter. your mothers pies would rest peacefully & deliciously in the middle of the table, she’d often swat at both you & your dad when your curious fingers went digging. but now? the only sound was the clinking of spoons against bowls. it was a routine youd both had set in the last year. no matter how hard the day was you always had dinner together. it was quiet, it was comfortable. maybe that’s why you had the courage to ask

“can i come with you next time?” you asked, breaking the fragile silence.

bobby looked up from his bowl, his brow furrowed. “come where?”

“on a hunt.” your tone was casual, or as casual as you could make it seem. the determination flickering in your eyes is what caught bobby off guard. you never asked this before.

bobby sat his spoon down, “absolutely not”

“why not?” you demanded.

“because it’s dangerous, you think i wanna lose you too?” the words came out harsher than he ever intended, & he saw you flinch.

“i’m not a kid anymore dad.” you argued, your voice softer now.

“you’re eleven”

“i can handle it” you insisted.

bobby leaned back in his chair, the legs scrapped the old worn wood floors as he ran a hand through his hair. he said your name, trying to keep his tone even “you don’t know what you’re asking me for kid. hunting ain’t like fixing cars or sneaking into the garage to read my old books. it’s blood, it’s danger. things you can’t ever take back. i don’t want that life for you.”

“but it’s your life daddy.” you said, your voice softer small.

bobby looked up to you, his eyes piercing you. he was looking at you, really looking at you & for a moment he seen your mother in your eyes. stubborn, brave, & too damn smart for your own good. he sighed, the fight leaving him.

“finish your chili” he said gruffly. “& don’t bring this up again”

that night, you laid in your bed wide awake. starting at the ceiling, you could hear the faint clink of bottles as your dad cracked open another beer downstairs. you knew he was trying to protect you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you were meant for more. so much more.

turning on your side, you reached for the flashlight under your pillow & flicked it on. the beam illuminating one of bobby’s old hunting journals. you’d stolen it from his office weeks ago, & every night you pored over the pages. reading about ghosts, wendigos, demons, & the men & women who fought them.

you traced your fingers over a sketch of a salt circle, your mind racing. if your dad wasn’t going to teach you, you’d just teach yourself

“morning bobby” sheriff mills said, tipping her hat as she leaned against her patrol car.

“sheriff” bobby grunted, adjusting the brim of his cap as he hoisted a box of supplies from his truck.

“you hear what folks been saying bout you?” she asked, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“probably nothing i ain’t heard before” bobby replied gruffly, not looking up from the box

she chuckled, a deep belly chuckle “half the town thinks you’ve got a kid locked up in that house of yours. other half thinks she’s a ghost”

bobby froze for a second, tearing his gaze from the box to Jody. he slowly shook his head “them damn people need to mind their own business”

“can’t blame em for wondering, no one’s seen her in years”

“she’s fine” bobby said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “& i ain’t explaining myself to a bunch of busy bodies”

Sheriff mills held up her hands in mock defense “didn’t say you had too Singer, just thought you’d wanna know is all”

bobby watched her go, a sour feeling settling in his stomach. a knot forming in hit throat, he never cared what people thought of him. but you? you never deserved this. on his drive home, he thought a lot about the life he was giving you. was he doing enough? was he a good father? he even found every doubt of worry wash away as he pulled into the driveway & seen you fast at work under the hood of his latest project car, a smile pried at his face when you held up a hand waving at him

later that afternoon, bobby was under the hood of the project car with you. he had just sent you inside for some drinks when he heard the familiar rumble of a car pulling into the yard. he glanced up, wiping his hands on an oil rag, & froze dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the black chevy impala.

“son of a bitch” he muttered, setting the rag down.

the car door opened, & john winchester stepped out, his boys trailing behind him. dean, maybe thirteen, was already wearing his cocky smirk. while nine year old sam looked around the yard with wide eyes.

“bobby!” john called out, spreading his arms wide like they were old friends.

“what the hell are you doing here john?” bobby asked, walking over.

“need a place to leave the boys for a couple days. got a hunt nearby, & i can’t take em with me”

bobby crossed his arms, glaring at him. “i ain’t a damn babysitter”

“they’re not babies” john argued. “dean can handle himself & sam- well, he’s sam. you know how he is”

“i know how you are” bobby shot back.

john sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “look, i wouldn’t ask if i had another option. just a couple days, bobby. that’s all i need”

bobby glanced at the boys. dean was standing protectively in front of sam, his eyes darting between his dad & bobby. sam, meanwhile was clutching a work book to his chest, looking like he’d rather be swallowed up by the world.

“fine” bobby said begrudgingly “but you owe me winchester.”

john grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “knew i could count on you”

as they approached the house, bobby set his hat on the counter & gestured for the boys to sit.

“house rules” he said, crossing his arms. “you touch my books, you ask first. you mess with my tools, you clean up after yourselves. & you stay outta trouble. got it?”

dean nodded, his smirk returning “got it”

sam, still clutching his book, shrunk under bobby’s gaze but offered a small nod.

“& don’t bother june” bobby added, glancing up the stairs.

“june?” dean asked, raising his eyebrow.

bobby said your name softly, “my daughter” his tone daring them to make a comment.

deans smirked widened. “didn’t know you had a daughter”

“don’t make me regret letting you stay here, boy” bobby growled.

inside, you were grabbing a glass of juice & a beer for your dad when you heard loud gruff voices. you recognized one as your dad, the other you were certain you’d never heard before. that’s how you found yourself in your bedroom, peeking out from your bedroom window, watching the scene unfold. you’d heard stories about john winchester— mostly from the times her dad was cursing him out on the phone— but you never could put a face to the name.

you watched as john drove off, leaving the two boys behind. the taller one said something to bobby, & the old man barked a laugh before leading them inside. you ducked away from the window & scrambled to make yourself presentable. wiping your hands on your oil stained jeans & shoving a huge pile of books under your bed.

there was a knock on your door not long after.

“june bug” bobby said, his voice muffled “got some company. get out here”

taking a deep breath, you opened the door & stepped out into the hallway.

“woah” dean said the second he saw you. “you’re real?”

you blinked at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

dean grinned. “dad told us bobby had a kid but we thought you were just an urban legend or something”

“i’m not a kid” you said, crossing your arms.

“you’re younger than me” dean countered.

“doesn’t mean i’m a kid”

“alright knock it off” bobby interrupted, his tone gruff. he introduced you, saying your name “this is Dean & Sam. they’ll be staying with us for a few days. now that introductions are over with, show them where they’re sleeping june. also you two” he said as he pointed to sam & dean- “stay outta her room”

dean held his hands up “no problem, bobby”

“smart ass” bobby murmured under his breath as he walked down the stairs

your eyes flicked to sams, who was staring at the floor. “hi” he mumbled

“hi” you said back, softening a little.

“you kids get along” bobby said already heading for the kitchen, “& stay outta trouble”

you led the boys down the hall to a small guest room with two twin beds adorning it, a small dresser with a smaller tv sat infront of the two beds, one side table rested between them. there was a pink rug that used to be in your room, now pushed in the middle of the floor.

“this is it” you said, gesturing inside.

dean dropped his bag on one of the beds as he flopped down. “not bad”

sam stood awkwardly near the door, holding his bag like he wasn’t sure where exactly to put it, or himself.

“you can take that one” you said, pointing to the open bed on the far side of the room.

“thanks” he mumbled, setting his bag down carefully.

dean looked around the room, then back to you “so, what do you do around here for fun?”

you raised an eyebrow “fun?”

“yeah ya know, like normal people stuff”

you snorted, “this is the Singer household. ain’t no such thing as normal”

sam smiled a bit, dean chuckled “fair enough”

“dinners at six” you said leading yourself back down the hall to your bedroom, “try not to break anything before then”

that night, after a supper filled with awkward silences & a lot of side eyes from dean, you were sitting on the front porch steps leaning against the railing, staring out at the stars. they were sprinkled across the sky like salt spilled on dark velvet. the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of oil & rust from the yard. you heard the creak of the door behind you & glanced back to see sam stepping out, his worn book tucked under his arm.

“couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

sam shook his head, hesitating but deciding to sit down on the step beside you. “deans snoring”

you smirked, turning to face sam. “yeah my dad snores like a freight train. you get used to it”

sam nodded, his grip on the book tightening “your dad… he’s, uh, kinda scary.”

that made you laugh— a short, sharp sound. “yeah he’s good at that. but he’s not so bad once you get to know him. just don’t touch his books or his tools without asking”

sam looked down at his book, tracing the edge of the cover with his thumb “he seems.. i don’t know. different from my dad”

your gaze softened, “yeah? how’s your dad?”

sam shrugged, his shoulders hunching slightly. “strict. always busy with hunts. he doesn’t talk much about—“ he paused, like he wasn’t really sure if he should say anything more. “about anything, really”

you pulled your arms up to rest on your knees “my dads the same. i mean, he talks, but mostly it’s just grumbling bout how im not doing something right.”

sam smiled faintly. “at least you get to stay here. you know, one place. we’re always moving. dean says it’s fine.. but i don’t know”

you tilted your head, watching him “you don’t like it do you?”.

sam shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “it’s hard to make friends, & just when you start to like the place you leave. dean says it’s better this way but…”

“but it sucks” you finish for him

“yeah” he admitted.

you sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the salvage yard humming around you. you could hear the faint croak of crickets & the occasional rustle of a cat weaving through cars.

“what’s that your reading?” you asked, nodding towards the book in his lap.

sam perked up slightly, he held it out “it’s about mythology. greek gods & stuff. i’ve read it a bunch of times but i always find something new”

you grinned “you’re a nerd”

sam’s face turned red, as he ducked his head. “i guess”

“relax, i didn’t mean it as an insult” you said, nudging him with your shoulder. “i like books too. not the mythology ones though, im more into the hunting ones. lore & spells & stuff”

“like your dads books?”

“yeah” you said, your voice dropping a bit. “he doesn’t know i read them, but i’ve learned a lot. salt circles, sigils, how to banish spirits. that kind of thing”

sam’s eyes lit up, “really? that’s so cool”

“don’t tell my dad” you warned

“i won’t” sam promised

you share a small smile before you turned your gaze back to the stars.

“you’ll be okay, you know” you said after awhile.

“what do you mean?” sam asked

“your dad. hunting. all of it. you’re tough, i can tell sammy”

sam looked at you, surprised “thanks junie.”

you shrugged, smiling at the nickname as you stood & brushed the dirt off your jeans. “don’t mention it, now come on. if dean wakes up & finds out we’re our here bonding, he’ll never let us hear the end of it”

sam laughed, the sound so soft but so genuine. god don’t let your daddy hear it but maybe it isn’t so bad, hanging around the winchesters.

the next morning, the smell of bacon & eggs filled the house. you stood at the stove, flipping strips of bacon with a practiced hand. you loved cooking breakfast, one of the only memories you’ve held onto all these years of your mother is how you used to cook breakfast with her every morning for your father, you even continued or (tried to continue) after she was gone.

dean wandered into the kitchen, still half-asleep his hair sticking in all different directions.

“is that bacon?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“yeah” you said smirking, “& no you’re not getting any until sam gets up”

dean groaned, slumping into his chair at the table “he’s probably just reading again. kid never stops”

“maybe you should try it” you teased.

dean rolled his eyes “why read when you can just be awesome?”

“awesome at what? snoring”

dean smirked “funny”

sam appeared, a moment later. his book under his arm as usual, you handed him a plate & he smiled shyly

“thanks”

dean looked at his plate, then back to you. “you’re alright, you know?”

“don’t get used too it” you shot back, sitting down with your own plate.

after breakfast, bobby led dean to the garage & handed him a wrench. he nodded toward an old chevy. “if you’re staying here, you’re working. get under that hood & make yourself useful”

dean grinned “yes, sir”

you watched as dean dove into the task, his confidence clear. “he thinks he’s hot stuff, doesn’t he?” you muttered to sam

“always” sam replied, rolling his eyes.

you laughed & grabbed a rag, “cmon let’s see if he knows what he’s doing.”

the morning passed with the three of you working in the yard, the occasional sound of you & dean bickering breaking the peaceful quiet. sam stayed silent mostly, but every now & then you’d catch him wearing a smile

as the sun blazed overhead you stood under the hood of a car later that afternoon, wiping sweat from your brow. you were working on one of bobby’s personal vehicles, muttering to yourself as you tightened a particularly stubborn bolt.

“need a hand?”

you glanced up to see dean, leaning casually against the side of the truck. his trademark smirk firmly in place.

“i’ve got it” you replied, going back to your work

“are you sure?” dean teased, leaning a little closer “looks like you’re struggling”

you rolled your eyes. “i’m not struggling. i just don’t need some wannabe mechanic messing up my work”

dean chuckled, unfazed. “wannabe? sweetheart, i’ve been fixing cars since i could walk”

“good for you” you shot bavk, refusing to look at him.

deans grin widened as he walked around to your side of the truck. “alrighty then. i’ll just stand here & admire the view”

you froze for a split second before glaring at him “the view?”

he nodded, clearly enjoying himself & the reaction he was getting from you. “yep. the salvage yard is real scenic from this angle”

you snorted, shaking your head “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah but you like it” dean quipped, his eyes glinting.

“keep dreaming winchester.” you replied, though you couldn’t help the faintest twitch of a smile

that evening, you found sam sitting on the front porch steps again, his book open on his lap. this time though, he wasn’t reading; he was staring out at the darkening yard, lost in thought.

“hey” you said gently, stepping outside & finding a spot beside him

“hey” sam replied; his voice quiet.

“what’s up?” you asked, pulling your knees to your chest

sam hesitated, then closed his book & set it aside. the old wooden porch boards cradling the worn leather. “do you ever feel like… maybe.. you don’t belong?”

you blinked, completely caught off guard. “sometimes.” you admitted, “why?”

sam sighed, running his small hands over his face. “i just… i don’t want this life. the hunting. the moving around. dean loves it, dad expects it, but me? i just want something different.”

you tilted your head, watching him carefully. afraid if you even let out a breath to heavy sam will start pushing his protective layer back over himself.

“like what sammy?”

“i don’t know” sam said, his voice tinged with frustration. “a normal life i guess. stability. college. friends. ya know?”

“sounds nice” you offered softly

sam looked at you like you had 4 heads & 3 of them were on fire as he spoke “you think so?”

“yeah” you said with a small shrug, “but normals not really an option for people like us, is it?”

sam frowned, his shoulders sagging “i wish it was”

you placed a hand on his arm, giving him a gentle supportive squeeze. “but hey, if anyone can find a way out it’s you. you’re real smart. you’ll figure it out”

sam’s lips twitched into a faint smile “thanks junie”

“anytime” is all you offered, your eyes finding their way back to the familiar stars you’ve come to know so well.

by the third day, bobby had warmed up to the boys- though he’d never outright admit it. dean was under the hood of the same chevy, hands covered in grease, while bobby stood nearby, arms crossed as he watched carefully.

“not bad, kid” bobby grunted as dean tightened the last bolt.

dean grinned, wiping his hands on the rag bobby threw him. “coming from you, i’ll take that as a compliment”

“don’t let it go to your head” bobby muttered, though there was hint of a smile beneath his gruff tone.

meanwhile, you were helping sam in the library, sorting through some of bobby’s older books.

“your dads not as scary as he looks” sam said as he shelved a worn book.

you chuckled “he definitely grows on you”

sam nodded, his expression thoughtful as he continued shuffling through the books. “dean likes him, he doesn’t say it. but i can tell”

you raised any eyebrow, a bit caught off guard.“really?” you think so?”

“yeah” sam said, smiling faintly. “dean does respect a lot of people, but your dad? he respects him”

you felt warmth in your chest as you heard dean & your dads laughs “good to know”

the sound of the impala pulling into the yard came unexpected & unwarranted, john never called & let anyone know when he was coming nor what day. john stepped out of the impala, looking as worn & serious as ever.

“boys” he called out, dean & sam appeared almost instantly with their bags slung over their shoulders.

“thanks for lettin em stay” john said to bobby, his tone gruff but sincere.

“don’t make it a habit” bobby replied, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

john nodded, then turned to his sons. “get in the car.”

dean glanced back to you before climbing into the passenger seat. “see you around june”

“yeah” you said, leaning against the porch railing “see you”

sam gave you a small wave from the backseat, & you returned it. your smiled tinged with sadness

as the impala to life & disappeared down the road, you felt an ache in your chest you couldn’t quite understand.

comment to be on my tag list 🫶🏼🫶🏼

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gottacaptcha-em-all · 6 months ago

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Say hello to my feral bog child, she is my first ever dnd character 😁 (lv.3)

The crocodile’s main prey in this bog are deer. Juni wears the skull of a stag.

Appearance-

Junebug, or Juni for short, is 14 years old and is no taller than 5ft. She has clammy tanned skin with a slightly green hue and always seems to have condensation on her exposed skin. She has big black eyes that match the color of her hair. Her hair is long and puddles around her when she’s in water. Her teeth are crooked (in a cute way), and her incisors are sharp… almost unnaturally sharp. Her primary weapon is two karambits.

Species - Water Genasi

+1 wisdom

+2 constitution

Acid resistance

Dark vision

Amphibious

Swim = to Walking speed (30ft)

Constitution based spell casting (or wisdom??? (Acid Splash cantrip, shape water cantrip, create or destroy water) 5ewiki and dnd beyond say conflicting things.

Class- Barbarian (path of the wild beast)

When in rage, the bestial power within Juni is revealed. Until the rage ends she takes on the attributes of a crocodile.

Build for Hermit/Outlander Barb-

Learned

Diagnose an Illness, or determine what killed the recently slain (Medicine) Recall lore about gods, religious rituals, and holy symbols.(religion)

Proficiency in Herbalism Kit.

Innate

Notice something that’s easy to miss (perception)

can follow tracks, forage, find a trail, or avoid natural hazards. (Survival)

Custom/Edited Equipment-

Background items

a hunting trap, a trophy from an animal you killed, a herbalism kit, cooking utensils, and a pouch containing 5gp (gold pieces)

Class items

A karambit, another karambit if the dm allows, a rapier, and an explorer’s pack.

*the dm said yes!*

🆒 - Boots of false tracks, Fishing tackle

Eventual Feat- Fighting initiative so that she can pick duel weapon fighting style, then gift of the chromatic dragon 4 acid damage

Questions For The DM:

1. Can we make it a rule that I can only enter barbarian rage after I am hit first. Or that I enter rage when I am dealt a certain amount of damage? Like after I lose a quarter of my health or something? I think that would be fun and add a bit more of a challenge to my combat style bc I would have to rely on my base stats until I could get rage bonuses. Which one of those do you find more interesting 😁?

2. Cån my constitution make it so my character has a really high alcohol tolerance because that would be hilarious if a 14yro could out drink an adult man w/lower constitution.

3. What if Junebug was introduced to the party(specifically the paladin or any lawful adventurers) by fighting them./ they can confuse me with the monster in the swamp terrorizing the town (or like a thief). But like there are things pointing to me not actually being the monster. I think that would be such a cool introduction bc it would impact our character dynamic/relationships but it’s probably something up to the dm

Lore/character details-

1. She was born a human but mutated into a water genasi due to prolonged exposure to the bog.

2. She makes tasty meals as treats for herself after a good hunt/forage and spices up her medicine and remedies. Small comforts y’know. cooking is she picked up out of necessity but became something she enjoys.

3. Juni fights like an animal. She acts like one too, she basically has zero social skills.

4. Juni has spent her entire life in the wilderness of the bog. It has taught her patience and it has taught her to listen, she hears and see things most aren’t still enough to notice. (Perception)

5. More feral than most Juni has learned to rely on her senses, she can expertly navigate the wilderness. (Survival)

6. One of Juni’s parents is a lycanthrope, and she’s inherited some of their curse. (This origin is cool bc it adds some religious flavor to why she was abandoned in a bog, Juni’s animal characteristics could’ve exposed her father’s lycanthropy to the rest of a very religious town, ruining his reputation.)

7. When she’s older she is going to become a priest.

8. Can preform impromptu but more than slightly unorthodox autopsies (medicine is wisdom based not intelligence based 😌😊)

Stats, Weapons, & Damage-

Can lift 128 at current age. 255 as adult

Can drag 255 at current age. 510 as adult

48 Hit Points

Primary

She primarily Duel wields karambits that she made out of crocodile claws.

(2d4 + 2d4)+ 4= 20

*bonus action* (2d4+2d4)= 16

20+16=36 Damage Point Max from Karambits +2 when in rage.

Secondary weapon

Is Rapier that she stole off of dumb noble who ventured into the bog and underestimated its danger. This is her shiniest possession. She doesn’t really find it practical to hunt with, so she mostly uses it to spear fish and roast small things over fires (would use it to toast marshmallows.)

(1d8 +4)= 12+ 2 = 16 when in rage

Natural weapons

1. Claws: 2d6 +4(2) +2 =22 Alt. 1d6 +4 + 2= 12

2. Bite: 1d8 +4 +2=14 If at half hit points when used, you gain health equal to your proficiency bonus.

3. Tail: You grow a lashing, spiny tail, which deals 1d8 piercing damage on a hit and has the reach property. If a creature you can see within 10 feet of you hits you with an attack roll, you can use your reaction to swipe your tail and roll a d8, applying a bonus to your AC equal to the number rolled, potentially causing the attack to miss you.

#dnd oc #dnd character #I like bogs #I really like bogs #crocodile #barbarian #input welcome #i need input #wip #art on the way #it’ll come when I remember how to draw

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