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Age:412

Gender: Male

Race: Coldblood/Saurian (Lizardman)

Job: Muscle/Laborer, Barbarian, blacksmith(?)

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Personality: Coldbloods have an infamous reputation of being rather, well, coldblooded. They lack the same emphasis of expressions others have and their mannerisms certainly suggest a more primitive or lesser range of emotion. That's not to say they can't be persay, happy or sad, but more advanced relationships and concepts are more or less a foreign concept to them. At best they can understand kinship. Grimloq is no exception, he is a brute with few words and a fierce gaze. As a warrior he does hold some pride in both his strength and lineage, but his lonesome past and isolated nature makes expressing that pride difficult, at least openly. Additionally he carried a sense of honor, typical of his race. There are few things Grimloq enjoys more then the thrill of battle, but he is exceptionally drawn to kinship even for his race, and once he finds trusts in others the loyalty he expresses can surpass his instinctual drive.
There is a misconception of the Saurian, in that they are dumb. This is only partially true, as while they are restricted to a lesser array of emotions and rely much more on natural instinct, they are capable of wisdom and comprehension to some degree on matters beyond their lifestyle. However, even the wisest of their kin are still subject to their primordial rage and instinct.

History



Raised as a savage warrior in a pre-flooded world, Grimloq shed the blood of other Coldbloods in countless duels and wars between the tribes of his raise. Distant from the other races, he only knew how to hunt and how to fight. His tribe's chief one day instructed the then famed warriors to trek to a volcano to salvage metal ore. Accepting the quest, the proud warrior left to the climb the distant volcano, however as he mined out iron from the rocks above boiling lava, an eruption occurred. The blast wiped the Coldblood onto the mountain side, covered in molten lava that oozed from the peak. Though he did not move, the cooling rock made it harder to free himself. Instead of suffocating, the solidified lava allowed him by some miracle to go into a deep dormant state, cracks in the obsidian allowed his dormant body to breathe as he remained in a stasis-like state for centuries.

The next eruption centuries later freed Grimloq of his state, though not without scars from the physical force of the eruption. Breaking free from stone the small volcanic, now island, caused the Coldblood to fall into the ocean. The cold waters was a great discomfort for the lizardman, and so he quickly swam to sure and assessed his predicament.

For months he was stranded on that remote rock, surviving on fish and rain water. The slow metabolism of his race allowed him to survive for some time on such low sustenance until he was picked up by a mercenary ship, where the crew at first thought he was some kind of monster.

Integration into a society of other races was tough for him, even beyond the stigma his race has, he finds adapting to their cultures and mannerisms difficult. Despite this, he found his 'home' in the mercenary trade, taking advantage of his incredible strength and prowess for the payment of nothing short of food and a place to sleep. Though he desired a kinship to relate to with any of the strangers he worked with, he felt no attachments with his lines of work. He moved from crew from crew, staying employed in one crew for anywhere between a few weeks to a few months, before moving onto the next. The Aquarius for him was no different then the others when he signed up.

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Weapons

• Skullcracker: A massive iron ball attached to a chain that is wrapped around his arm. (Coldbloods are known to forget and drop their weapons if they go berserk due to their natural 'instinct' of rage taking over when they go berserk, so they have adopted weapons that tie to their arms to lessen that disadvantage.)
• Feral Guard: A large metal pad is strapped to his left shoulder, which is armed with spikes. Typically used as a shield or to shoulder-bash.

Abilities and Traits

• Dragon's Breathe: Coldbloods can naturally produce jets of steel-melting flames from their mouths via emitting a naturally produced flammable gas from a sac in their lungs. Chemicals in their saliva cause the gas to ignite in flames, which creates a thin cone-shaped trail of flames from their mouths that can reach a length of 8 meters. It takes a few minutes for their bodies to regenerate and refill their lungs with that same gas, which restricts their fire breathing ability to a three minute cool down between use.
• Dragon's Rage: Similar to their firebreathing, Coldbloods can ignite their own bodies in a veil of flames via natural means. They can secrete a highly flammable substance, some kind of oil, from between their scales and coat their own bodies with it. By breathing fire on themselves when coated in the substance they can cover themselves in what is essentially 'armor made of fire'. The oil can burn for as long as seven minutes. However this substance takes longer to regenerate to reuse, about half an hour.
• Natural Armor: A Coldblood's plated scales are said to be as durable as stone or bronze(The older the lizard the harder the scales, generally) and their flesh beneath is leathery and tough. Even if one can pierce through their hard scales, the tough muscle and flesh beneath makes it difficult to cut or pierce further. Due to their resilience they can sustain great injuries and can expend more blood loss then most other races. Their natural regeneration is also noticeably faster. Within weeks Large gashes and gaping wounds can be reduced to large scars, and they can even regrow their limbs or tail within a 2 month span. Like the rest of his race Grimloq also has a seemingly indefinite heat-resistance, not even the hottest flame or smouldering lava can scorch his hide.
• Tooth and Claw: Even without his weapon Grimloq his strong enough to lift almost a ton, bend iron with a tight grip, and clash blades with his claws and teeth. Their claws are sharp enough to dig through stone, and Grimloq is no exception in being able to scale rocky walls and mountains with his bare hands.
• Semi-aquatic: The average Coldbloods can hold their breathes for approximately 10 minutes, and are fairly proficient swimmers with strong tails to help propel them.
• Predatory Senses: The eyes of the Coldbloods are shape with great vision, and they give off a haunting crimson light which allows them to see even in pitch darkness. Their forked tongues function to help track scents like a tuning fork just like a snake or some lizards would, and can pick up and pin point specific scents from a mile away, as well as being able to different different smells individually.
• Lizard Artisan: Most Coldbloods learn the art of their traditional way of crating metal armaments. This is done by hand instead of tools. Using their breathe to melt metals, they can mold molten steel and iron like puddy and can make various crude instruments. With this technique, Grimloq can make crude weapons out of metal in his free time or fix broken blades and such by melting and solidifying them back to shape.

Vulnerabilities:

• Ectothermic: Like all cold-blooded creatures Grimloq's species is susceptible to the environment for heat. While utilizing dragon's rage they can keep themselves warm for the short period it lasts, they are otherwise vulnerable to cold weather conditions and chilling waters. They can't even digest food at any degree lower then room temperature.
• Double edged sword: The Coldbloods are known to go berserk when enraged or in intense pain. Their instinct kicks in, only instead of flight or fight they go until a mad violent episode fueled by a massive adrenaline rush. In such a state they completely forgo both reasoning and self preservation, and will proceed to fight until either dead or completely exhausted/crippled beyond movement. In such a state it is nigh impossible to calm them down, be it fear or reason, and will often have great difficult differentiating between friend and foe. In such an situation it is best to keep a distance and avoid letting an enrage cold-blood see you.

Other:
-Grimloq is 8'11 in height and weighs a quarter of a ton.

-Grimloq does not possess any magical ability, his fire production and heat immunity are a natural, biological feature of his physiology.

-Coldbloods adopted english from early encounters of other races and adopted their forms of communications even after they became isolated once more. Their traditional language is difficult to replicate with other races as it mostly consists of what sounds like hisses, growls, and clicks that are more animal-like.

-Male and female Coldbloods are difficult to tell apart, virtually having no sexual dimorphism. They take little pleasure in courting and only do so out of necessity, and considering the incredibly slow growth rate of hatchlings Coldbloods do not reproduce that often, which doesn't help their currently low and unstable numbers.

-Grimloq loves to eat the flesh of other races, elves especially, but since he is aware of the implications he only partakes in such a diet out of the sight of others.

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Age: 34

Gender: Male

Race: Dwarf

Job: Lookout

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Personality: Hanadyl is a relentlessly cheerful soul. Optimistic, playful and curious, he will seize any opportunity for adventure. He doesn't have a malicious bone in his body, but he's not afraid to fight if he feels the need. Like most dwarves, he has a keen interest in the way things work, and in his case its particularly true of guns and rifles, so much so that he even went out his way to build his carbine by hand. That said, he's more than a little naive. Hanadyl will trust a stranger just because he thinks they look dependable on account of his young age, and thats lead to more than one bad situation. He is ferociously loyal, though, and won't do anything that he feels would endanger his friends. Hanadyl also has a relentless hunger.

History:
Hanadyl's childhood was spent in a no-name village in Laxen. An only child to a single mother, Hanadyl was made to work pretty much as soon as he was able to. Carting, farming, fishing, lugging goods back and forth... anything that would earn a couple of pennies or a loaf of bread just so he didn't starve.

Being raised on a coastal village meant they were more subject to raiders than most, which meant lots of repairs... and lots of weapons. Gathering up dropped pirate pistols and rifles was something of a hobby, and he'd practice with them until they ran out of shot, or until they were discovered and confiscated from the poor boy. He swiftly learned how to hide them, and then he learned how to shoot them until he could get a gnat's eye at a hundred paces. On top of that, when they stopped working, he would take them apart to see how they worked, using the skills he'd learned from repairing the village to avoid breaking them. Going into his teens, Hanadyl had a very active knowledge of how guns worked and how to take care of them.

Then, tragedy struck. During a raid like any other, Hanadyl and his mother were caught on the coast. The pirates chased them down, and murdered his mother with a sword. Hanadyl managed to escape and got back to the village in time to warn them. After searching his stash for a weapon, he slipped around the fighting and went straight for the ship. He stashed himself in the storage hold and waited for his revenge.

After the inevitable defeat, the raiders were sent back to their ship, licking their wounds. With the ship out at sea, their fate was sealed. Little by little, the hidden Hanadyl began to mess with them. Guns went missing or were taken apart, food improperly sealed where it didnt vanish altogether, ropes cut that really shouldn't be cut, and as paranoia grew, so did Hanadyl's confidence. The turning point came when he murdered one of the crewmen in cold blood - rammed a bayonet through his spine and battered the rear of his skull in with the butt of a rifle. When the body was discovered, the pirates, already paranoid, went in to a panic. Accusations were launched, the captain's authority supplanted and previously petty gripes evolved into full blown hatred and suspicion.
Understand, dear reader, that this was not a quick nor easy process, but one several months in the execution. Hanadyl was playing the long game. Instilling fear and panic among the Pirates was Hanadyl's prime objective and that's not done by rushing. No, no, no, to truly mix fear into a group, you never make one or two large moves all at once, but lots of little, subtle things over a long period of time. Then, when the niggling little doubts have been planted deep in the psyche of the enemy, perform one grand spectacle that cripples them with fear and paranoia. Then you watch as they do all your work for you.
The murder pretty much sounded a death knell for the pirates. Paranoia erupted into open fighting as different groups of friends accused other groups of being complicit in the last few months of fuckery. Someone killed the captain in an impulsive rush and from there, they werent going back. The deck was stained red with blood, and when the fighting died down, when there only a handful of wounded pirates left, Hanadyl revealed himself to finish off the rest.

A passing merchant ship was eventually flagged down and Hanadyl explained the situation to those onboard. Though initially suspicious of the bloodstained dwarf - why wouldn't you be? - they eventually agreed to take him back to dry land in exchange for him working the ship. It was on this ship he learned how to look after a boat and he worked his ass off. He learned at the school of hard knocks, so he did, and by the time they got to dry land he was as much as sailor as anyone else on the ship.

Rather than seek work on land, Hanadyl looked for another ship that would take on someone of his talents. The Great Aquarius is just the latest of series of ships he's worked on.

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Weapons

• Marksman's Carbine - well suited to long ranges, while also light enough to swing about atop the crow's nest
• Butterfly Swords - Admittedly he bought them for the name, but he's saddled with the bloody things now so he might as well use them

Magic

• It's a subtle type of magic to be sure, but Hanadyl's ability to influence the wind and air around small areas has saved his life innumerable times. It's not a huge degree of control - he won't be whipping up whirlwinds anytime soon - but its enough to, say help him keep balance on a thin surface or keep a bullet on course or make a small air pocket for diving underwater in the rare case that its necessary

Other: For some reason, Hanadyl just can't seem to grow a beard. He's also a lot thinner than most dwarves, so there's some speculation as to whether he's a "full" dwarf or not.