[hider=Vrikdarok] [b][u]Character Sheet[/u][/b] [u]Essential Information[/u] Name/Aliases: Vrikdarok / Lord Sex: Male Race: Olc Cairn Mountain Orc Age: 30 (In Human years) Appearance: Marred with scars from battle, the iron-hued Orc stands as tall as the mountains he was spat from. Each hand is tipped with jagged nails that are cracked and as jagged as the rocks they crumble to dust. Like most of the Olc Cairn orcs, his body ripples with strength. Pools of crimson rage peer from deep sockets, deepened further by high cheekbones that plunge to a strong, slightly rounded jaw. Bone shattering tusks protrude from an extended lower jaw and come to rounded points at either side of a broad nose with large nostrils. A trio of deep scars, trophies from breaking his steed, stretch from the upper right side of his forehead to the lower part of his left cheek and upper left quadrant of his chest, distinguishing his commitment to having the meanest, most battle ready creature at his side. Coarse black hair, tied back and grappled by a leather thong, hangs low on his back. Personality: Born in the Black Mountains, Vrikdarok is as cold and rough as the land he inhabits. He does not speak kind words. He issues orders to subordinates and laughs at the weaknesses of the other races. Unlike other orcs, the Olc Cairn Mountain Orcs do not have a rich history or intricate hierarchy of power. He speaks and others listen. Arrogance is a trait this orc revels in. Born to battle, Vrikdarok knows death and pestilence. History: His birth shattered his mother's heart, killing her on his exiting. His father, controller and lord of the Black Mountain Orcs, died by his hand when Vrikdarok came of age and was trained well enough to usurp power from his father. The head of the former lord was displayed for a full summer at Vish'Kar's entrance (Black Mountain Orc Keep). At the head of standing army of nearly twenty thousand troops, Vrikdarok has ruled with cruelty and a system of rewards. What one kills, one attains. If a fellow orc kills another in battle, the fallen's possessions, including mate and homestead, become the victor's property. The Black Mountain Orcs exist to bring Dúv's rage to the rest of Enduwin. They raid, rape and pillage with the ferocity of wild animals and cunning of the most educated elves. [u]Optional Information/u] Equipment: The mines of Vish'Kar produce strong iron and steel. Vrikdarok is clad in it from head to toe. His helmet's horns were harvested from the claws of a mammoth Black Mountain wolf. It is closed face and forged to resemble a snarling wolf's visage. The rest of his armor follows suit. Spiked pauldrons, bracers, and jointed gauntlets with one inch spikes at the knuckles. Leg plates and iron greaves coat his lower half. He is well versed with a battle axe, bow, and sword and board. A thick cape, refined from the hide of a mountain wolf, covers his back and falls just short of his heel. The head of the wolf that it was taken from is still attached to the cape. He rides an enormous mountain wolf with fur as dark as the hair that dons Vrikdarok's head. Faction (If any): Black Mountain Orcs Marital Status: None Magic (Mundane or Arcane): Mundane Skills: He forged his own armor. [/hider] [hider=Black Mountain Orcs] [b][u]Faction/Organization Sheet[/u][/b] [u]Essential Information[/u] Name: Black Mountain Orcs Location: Olc Cairn Mountains Purpose: Greed History: The Black Mountain Orcs have existed as long as the men that try to slay them. They were spawned from the wrath of Dúv when he split the earth and tore the landscape asunder. They have spread the chaos of Olc Cairn to the rest of Enduwin ever since. They do not have a divine purpose and do not strive to take over the rest of the land. If they love anything, it is Vish'Kar and Olc Cairn. [u]Optional Information[/u] Advantages: The number of orcs that are solidified under Vrikdarok's rule have forced the rest of Enduwin to realize that they are more than a nuisance. More suitably stated, they are a plague of terrible power that has cut a scar into the otherwise beautiful face of Enduwin's land and refuse to be driven back to Dúv's paradise, Ifreann. Disadvantages: The devout nature of their loyalty provides a single minded approach to any situation. While the individual commanders interpret the meaning of Vrikdarok's words, few have spoken out against his methods and retained their head. Rules/Laws: OBEY THE LORD! [/hider] [hider=Sariloth] [b][u]Character Sheet[/u][/b] [u]Essential Information[/u] Name/Aliases: Sariloth Sex: Female Race: Dragon Age: 9 (Dragon years. 900 in human years) Appearance: Sariloth is a rather typical looking dragon. The majority of her body is covered in pearlescent scales that range from deep crimson to purple, touching on pink and blue hues in between. Though beautiful, the scales have hardened as she has aged, shattering most weapons when they strike her. Sariloth's underbelly is tan with tightly clustered scales. Unlike dragons of lore, this is not a weak spot. Just as strong as the rest, these scales protect against strikes from beneath, provided that the foe is capable of reaching her underbelly. She stands at nearly forty-five feet in height and is over a hundred feet from the tip of her snout to the curl at the end of her tail. About halfway down her back, two massive wings protrude and cloak the majority of her back, ending just below her neck. Formed form a substance with the texture of leather, the flexible matter is drawn taut over jointed bones that allow Sariloth to make sharp turns and collapse them to her back, causing a steep dive. When extended fully, each is the length of her body. Rigid, upright spines travel the length of her spine, culminating in deadly spikes at the tip of her tail. Horns cascade down from just above and behind golden orbs that pierce the darkest of nights. Slits of black constrict and expand, allowing her to see long distances in great detail. Her maw seethes hot breath that laps over teeth that will shred steel and iron with little effort. Each Sariloth is a fire breather. Due to her magical nature, Sariloth is capable of taking a humanoid form. Her eyes, however, remain the same. Strawberry locks flow from her head like a crimson waterfall, reaching her mid back. Her form is formidable, but not oversized. She stands amidst five feet. The illusion she casts causes her wings to form her clothing: tanned leather. She does not carry weapons because the illusion can be reversed nearly instantaneously. As it is but an obfuscation of her true nature, the body retains the hardiness of its counterpart. Swords and pikes break against her skin and arrows cannot pierce her flesh. Personality: The dragon does not abide by the rules of humans and does not prescribe to philosophy of good and evil. Unlike modern lore, Sariloth is rather feral. She speaks the common tongue but will not do so in her dragon form. She is only quick to anger when offended. She does not find value in compassion and does not choose sides based on right and wrong. The toils of the humanoids do not cause her to act. History: Sariloth was hatched when the dragons' numbers were great and humans feared their existence. She matured on the volcanic island of Bolecawn. The waters that separate her from the mainland were easily traversed once flying became second nature. For much of her life she was but a shadow in the sky since she did not lust for golden trinkets or the flesh of humans. Sariloth is one among a few that still exist in Enduwin. Few even believe in her existence, mistaking the flittering shadow that floats above the clouds as a great bird of prey. Her life is a solitary one. She has no mate and does not seek out other dragons for company. The warmth of the volcanoes sooth her and settle her ancient mind. [u]Optional Information[/u] Magic (Mundane or Arcane): Arcane. Besides being able to cast the illusion of her humanoid form, she is capable of manipulating fire in both forms. She is able to communicate telepathically in her reptilian form. [/hider] [hider=Oscar De’Lacroux] [b][u]Character Sheet[/b][/u] [u]Essential Information[/u] Name/Aliases: Oscar De’Lacroux Sex: Male Race: Human Age: 27 Appearance: He is a midsized man of strong stature. He looks as if he has handled a weapon for most of his life, which he has. He moves with determination and does not waste his time with words that have no meaning. He is quick to act and does so with speed that some have trouble keeping up with. With fiery orange hair and a form that reaches nearly six feet, he is easily found in crowds, though at night his dark skin allows him to sink into the shadows undetected. His pupils are ringed with hazel but dive to a much softer, more beautiful green, but harden to grey at the outer ring. The whites of his eyes stand in stark contrast to the depth and beauty of the rest of his eyes. He walks tall, with his head held to future, never looking back at where he has come from. He always has an eye to the horizon, looking to grasp the next opportunity that surely awaits a man of his talent. Personality: Heh. Perhaps it is best to describe Oscar as the counterpart of his author’s self, but that is but a story for another time. He is a good man, strong with principles instill in him by a life led without a guiding hand. He has forged a path that he is willing to walk, nothing more. Having spent most of his life following the command of others that put coins in his purse, Oscar has taken charge of finding his own fortunes. Adventurer, some have called him. He acts on learned instincts that have been drilled into him through rigorous training and experience. He is a kind but stern man. One to give the last of his bread to the weak, but sever the hand of the man that tries to steal from his purse while he is supposedly sleeping, Oscar’s emotions tend to guide his feet and determine the path he walks. History: Hailing from the islands of Ju’ra, Oscar is a story that does not require much explanation. When he came of age he left home with a band of mercenaries and has never gone back. As a sellsword, he has seen much of the land of Enduwin, having crossed the desert and nearly frozen to death in the ice lands. He left the band of mercenaries on good terms, but chose to find his own way . He paid his debt to them tenfold and bid them a good life as he disappeared into the burning horizon of the summer’s setting sun. [u]Optional Information[/u] Equipment: Leather armor and gloves mounted over top closely knit chainmail. A long sword and shield. A horse named Rupert. Magic (Mundane or Arcane): That, my kiddies, we will have to leave to the telling of the story. [/hider]