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[OOC] Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi - The Orcish Mercenary Saga Page 2
- Fantasy
- Advanced
- Medieval
- Military
- Small Group
- GM HeySeuss
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Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro
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9 days ago
Dead Cruiser Dishonour Before Death / Better You Than Me
Member
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14 days ago
Name: Morgan, the Black Orc
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Breed: Full-blood
Appearance: Homely even by Orcish standards, Morgan's face is a mess of dark scar tissue, various features pushed out of place by his bones mending crookedly. His golden eyes are beady and deep-set in his face, his black hair is kept cropped closely to his head, and his skin is a pallid grey, rather than the healthy green hue of a common Orc. He can barely breathe through his nose from being broken and scarred-over so many times, and his wide ears are torn and ragged like a feral cat's. Morgan's terrifying appearance is only exaggerated by his size, as he stands a head taller than most of his Orcish comrades, and his build is as thick and sturdy as a cast-iron cannon.
Skills/Abilities:
Equipment:
History:
Personality and Psychological profile:
Relationships and Acquaintances:
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Breed: Full-blood
Appearance: Homely even by Orcish standards, Morgan's face is a mess of dark scar tissue, various features pushed out of place by his bones mending crookedly. His golden eyes are beady and deep-set in his face, his black hair is kept cropped closely to his head, and his skin is a pallid grey, rather than the healthy green hue of a common Orc. He can barely breathe through his nose from being broken and scarred-over so many times, and his wide ears are torn and ragged like a feral cat's. Morgan's terrifying appearance is only exaggerated by his size, as he stands a head taller than most of his Orcish comrades, and his build is as thick and sturdy as a cast-iron cannon.
Skills/Abilities:
- Hideously strong, even for an Orc.
- Wields a greatsword with tremendous skill.
- Expert warg rider.
- Experienced in ambushes, hit and run tactics, and other forms of guerilla warfare.
- An utterly tenacious bastard.
- Wields a greatsword with tremendous skill.
- Expert warg rider.
- Experienced in ambushes, hit and run tactics, and other forms of guerilla warfare.
- An utterly tenacious bastard.
Equipment:
- Dokarish (Dragon's Death): Morgan's "greatsword," which in reality is more like a massive hunk of iron beaten into the general shape of a sword. Gained its name after Morgan heroically saved his company by slaying a dragon in single combat (read: killed an alligator while he was drunk).
- Armor: Morgan is one of the few among his company to wear a full suit of plate armor, patchwork though it may be. The entire suit is painted matte black (save for his right gauntlet, painted the company's signature red) with no further adornment, and is the origin of Morgan's epitet.
- Tomahawks: Somewhere between utility and weapons, Morgan carries about a half-dozen small, light axes balanced for throwing. When the quarters are too close for him to swing his sword, he'll take one in each hand, or they can be chucked at enemies as last-ditch weapons.
- Garikka: Morgan's warg mount, a massive beast with black fur and yellow eyes. Her name means "frequent biter," and is also an Orcish vulgarity meaning "an unpleasant woman."
- Armor: Morgan is one of the few among his company to wear a full suit of plate armor, patchwork though it may be. The entire suit is painted matte black (save for his right gauntlet, painted the company's signature red) with no further adornment, and is the origin of Morgan's epitet.
- Tomahawks: Somewhere between utility and weapons, Morgan carries about a half-dozen small, light axes balanced for throwing. When the quarters are too close for him to swing his sword, he'll take one in each hand, or they can be chucked at enemies as last-ditch weapons.
- Garikka: Morgan's warg mount, a massive beast with black fur and yellow eyes. Her name means "frequent biter," and is also an Orcish vulgarity meaning "an unpleasant woman."
History:
Like many in the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi, Morgan has no rightful claim to any Orcish tribe or clan. Like fewer, though, he was not raised by Orcs, and never knew his true-blooded parents. A human mercenary company, known as the Black Raiders, had come across the aftermath of a forest ambush in their travels. A small band of refugee Orcs had seemingly been tracked down and slaughtered by bandits for what little wealth they had. Mostly women and children, there had been no survivors, and there was practically nothing left by the bandits to pick over. Just as they started to leave the scene, the wailing of an infant could be heard. Nestled under the corpse of a Orc woman that had died protecting him, a baby Orc was found; cold, malnourished, and caked in mud and his mother's blood. The Raiders' leader, Darian Black, thought nothing of it, but his favorite girl took a liking to the small, grey creature, as her own baby had been stillborn a month prior. Darian allowed her to keep the baby for herself, thinking that it would be dead before long and would cause him no further trouble.
Darian was unfortunately proven wrong, as the young Orc repeatedly proved to be utterly unwilling to die. Named Morgan by his adoptive mother, he clung to life voraciously throughout his first few years. His human mother died of dysentery when he was five years old, but Morgan still survived, and his care was left to Darian, who was embittered by the loss of his most treasured woman. Darian Black was not a man of restraint or great emotional temperament, and so frequently took out his frustrations on Morgan, usually in the form of vicious beatings. The Orc boy endured this silently; he knew that Darian thought he was worthless, but refused to prove him right by showing weakness. Even so, Darian refused to be burdened by the little monster that had been left to him. Morgan was given a sword, and Darian trained the boy himself. The training was harsh and brutal, leaving Morgan with many scars and bruises, but he continued to endure. This was his chance to prove his worth to his "father."
For years, Morgan served Black's Raiders as both an attendant to the soldiers, and as their whipping boy, serving Darian foremost in both. On some occasions, a soldier would offer up a few coins to Darian, and Morgan would be "theirs" for the night. When he was much younger, Morgan had a certain idea of what a warrior was like, mostly from stories his mother told him. As he grew up, it was clear to him that the Raiders were far from the shining knights of these childhood tales. A savage pack of criminals and scoundrels, the Raiders were scarcely better than a band of thieves or bandits. There was no job too dirty for them, and only the most desperate or unscrupulous of benefactors hired them. Before long, Morgan had joined his father and the other Raiders on the battlefield, one of Black's Raiders in his own right. A young Orc grows faster than a human, and is stronger as well. At first Morgan was given a short sword to fight with, but this was too light and flimsy for him. He eventually scavenged a claymore as long as he was tall, and swung it around with speed that unnerved the other Raiders.
Strong in body and trained by a veteran mercenary, Morgan was surprisingly mighty in battle, but he was still young and inexperienced. In a moment of laxity in combat, Morgan allowed an enemy soldier to strike from behind him. Darian, watching, leaped forward at took the blade meant for Morgan, perhaps merely out of reflex, perhaps out of a deep-buried protective instinct toward his adopted "son." Morgan carried Darian off the battlefield, alive, but at the cost of his sword arm. Resentment grew toward Morgan in the Raiders, seeing him as a bad omen that had killed his mother and crippled his father. This resentment spread to Darian, who in a drunken rage attacked Morgan in the dead of night. He swung wildly and furiously at Morgan, yelling about his secret desire for Morgan to have died in infancy, or died with his mother, or died on the battlefield, and his deep disappointment that he had lived through all of that. A rage overtook Morgan, who had previously been only defending against his father's blows, and he struck the man down.
Before the commotion could spread further in their camp, Morgan took off in the dead of night with only his sword and armor, and a stolen horse. In the years that followed, Morgan did all he could to survive. His only skill was to swing his greatsword around, and so he took work as a mercenary in the few companies that would hire an Orc. He was frequently cheated out of money, put into suicidal missions, or left for dead, but Morgan still refused to lay down and die. When work was scarce, he stole to live, usually holding up travelers and other bandits. To disguise the color of his skin at a distance, and keep him better hidden at night, Morgan painted his armor black. There may have been another, deeper reason, but Morgan did not like to think about it. Morgan's martial prowess grew as he matured, and he found that even a greatsword was too light a blade to make sufficient use of his strength. He found a smith to forge together several blades into a single, ugly mass, and then carried around this misshapen "sword" as equal parts blade, shield and bludgeon.
In a battle against the defending forces of Castle Loren, Morgan was thrust into single combat against a great warrior, the famous Red Knight of Loren. The living ideal of the shining knights Morgan dreamed of as a child, the Red Knight saw that he was just a boy, and gave him the chance to flee. Morgan was far past the point of fleeing, and drew his sword. Their duel lasted five strokes, as Morgan shattered the Red Knight's blade with his own. The final blow ripped Morgan's helmet off his head, but he caved in the Red Knight's skull. Warriors around this duel stopped fighting for a brief moment in awe, amazed that a young Orc in black armor had killed the great Red Knight. Such began the reputation of the Black Orc.
Fame alone did not keep Morgan's belly full. He was eventually driven to steal again, this time from what he thought to be a band of Orcish refugees. As he fled into the night after raiding one of their tents, he found that he was being pursued by what sounded like giant dogs. These had been no refugees; they were outriders of the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi. Morgan could not outrun warg riders for long, and was eventually encircled. Determined to go down fighting, Morgan killed four mounted Orcs and took the arm off another one before being felled by a poisoned arrow. Removing his helmet to claim the head of a such a worthy foe, the outriders were shocked to find that he the Black Orc. They took him back to their camp to see if he would survive the poison, watching him curiously. After three days of agony, Morgan proved yet again that he was unwilling to die. Claiming that he owed them a debt in blood and food, Morgan was inducted into the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi by the chief of the Warg Company.
Morgan did not spend long in the pikes, as he had been already trained to fight by humans, and the Warg Chief thought his skills were wasted among the recruits. Morgan earned a great deal of resentment from the other Orcs, partly from this blatant favoritism, partly for killing their comrades, but mostly because he was like a human among their ranks. He had never lived among Orcs, and he did not speak a lick of Orcish. When he joined the Warg Company, he was given the meanest bitch in the pack to be his mount, claiming that she was the only warg big enough to hold him and his heavy armor. Morgan steeled himself to prove his worth to his new comrades the only way he knew how: with blood and sweat. Morgan drilled with his warg for hours on end every day, determined to break the beast if it killed him. Hours not spent training with his warg or his blade were spent among his comrades, trying desperately to learn the language and heritage of his people. In time, his efforts paid off. He could speak Orcish reasonably (though with a hideous human accent), and after giving each other a dozen new scars, he had finally bonded with his warg (though she now answered to the vulgar "Garikka" instead of her normal name).
More used to fighting from horseback, Morgan took some time to adjust to fighting atop a warg, but he was already well-used to the ambush tactics used by the Warg Company. Despite their initial distrust and resentment of him, his fellow riders came to respect Morgan after several battles fought together. Even so, he remained something of a distant and unapproachable figure, his humanlike temperment unsettling to most of the tuskers. Even so, after only two years among the warg riders, Morgan was given leadership of his own warband. Morgan's own determination and mad courage kept them on the front lines, and volunteered them for the most dangerous tasks possible. This warband became known as "Morgan's Raiders," and was seen as a band of doomed riders by the rest of the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi. They painted their armor black to emulate their leader, and took on roles other Orcs saw as being suicidal. It was not uncommon for Morgan to be the last survivor of these Raiders after a successful mission. Rumors continued to swirl around Morgan, thinking that perhaps some curse followed him, killing those around him but leaving him unable to die. Despite these rumors, Morgan's skill was unquestionable, leading to the disbandment of Morgan's Raiders and his induction into the Chosen.
Darian was unfortunately proven wrong, as the young Orc repeatedly proved to be utterly unwilling to die. Named Morgan by his adoptive mother, he clung to life voraciously throughout his first few years. His human mother died of dysentery when he was five years old, but Morgan still survived, and his care was left to Darian, who was embittered by the loss of his most treasured woman. Darian Black was not a man of restraint or great emotional temperament, and so frequently took out his frustrations on Morgan, usually in the form of vicious beatings. The Orc boy endured this silently; he knew that Darian thought he was worthless, but refused to prove him right by showing weakness. Even so, Darian refused to be burdened by the little monster that had been left to him. Morgan was given a sword, and Darian trained the boy himself. The training was harsh and brutal, leaving Morgan with many scars and bruises, but he continued to endure. This was his chance to prove his worth to his "father."
For years, Morgan served Black's Raiders as both an attendant to the soldiers, and as their whipping boy, serving Darian foremost in both. On some occasions, a soldier would offer up a few coins to Darian, and Morgan would be "theirs" for the night. When he was much younger, Morgan had a certain idea of what a warrior was like, mostly from stories his mother told him. As he grew up, it was clear to him that the Raiders were far from the shining knights of these childhood tales. A savage pack of criminals and scoundrels, the Raiders were scarcely better than a band of thieves or bandits. There was no job too dirty for them, and only the most desperate or unscrupulous of benefactors hired them. Before long, Morgan had joined his father and the other Raiders on the battlefield, one of Black's Raiders in his own right. A young Orc grows faster than a human, and is stronger as well. At first Morgan was given a short sword to fight with, but this was too light and flimsy for him. He eventually scavenged a claymore as long as he was tall, and swung it around with speed that unnerved the other Raiders.
Strong in body and trained by a veteran mercenary, Morgan was surprisingly mighty in battle, but he was still young and inexperienced. In a moment of laxity in combat, Morgan allowed an enemy soldier to strike from behind him. Darian, watching, leaped forward at took the blade meant for Morgan, perhaps merely out of reflex, perhaps out of a deep-buried protective instinct toward his adopted "son." Morgan carried Darian off the battlefield, alive, but at the cost of his sword arm. Resentment grew toward Morgan in the Raiders, seeing him as a bad omen that had killed his mother and crippled his father. This resentment spread to Darian, who in a drunken rage attacked Morgan in the dead of night. He swung wildly and furiously at Morgan, yelling about his secret desire for Morgan to have died in infancy, or died with his mother, or died on the battlefield, and his deep disappointment that he had lived through all of that. A rage overtook Morgan, who had previously been only defending against his father's blows, and he struck the man down.
Before the commotion could spread further in their camp, Morgan took off in the dead of night with only his sword and armor, and a stolen horse. In the years that followed, Morgan did all he could to survive. His only skill was to swing his greatsword around, and so he took work as a mercenary in the few companies that would hire an Orc. He was frequently cheated out of money, put into suicidal missions, or left for dead, but Morgan still refused to lay down and die. When work was scarce, he stole to live, usually holding up travelers and other bandits. To disguise the color of his skin at a distance, and keep him better hidden at night, Morgan painted his armor black. There may have been another, deeper reason, but Morgan did not like to think about it. Morgan's martial prowess grew as he matured, and he found that even a greatsword was too light a blade to make sufficient use of his strength. He found a smith to forge together several blades into a single, ugly mass, and then carried around this misshapen "sword" as equal parts blade, shield and bludgeon.
In a battle against the defending forces of Castle Loren, Morgan was thrust into single combat against a great warrior, the famous Red Knight of Loren. The living ideal of the shining knights Morgan dreamed of as a child, the Red Knight saw that he was just a boy, and gave him the chance to flee. Morgan was far past the point of fleeing, and drew his sword. Their duel lasted five strokes, as Morgan shattered the Red Knight's blade with his own. The final blow ripped Morgan's helmet off his head, but he caved in the Red Knight's skull. Warriors around this duel stopped fighting for a brief moment in awe, amazed that a young Orc in black armor had killed the great Red Knight. Such began the reputation of the Black Orc.
Fame alone did not keep Morgan's belly full. He was eventually driven to steal again, this time from what he thought to be a band of Orcish refugees. As he fled into the night after raiding one of their tents, he found that he was being pursued by what sounded like giant dogs. These had been no refugees; they were outriders of the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi. Morgan could not outrun warg riders for long, and was eventually encircled. Determined to go down fighting, Morgan killed four mounted Orcs and took the arm off another one before being felled by a poisoned arrow. Removing his helmet to claim the head of a such a worthy foe, the outriders were shocked to find that he the Black Orc. They took him back to their camp to see if he would survive the poison, watching him curiously. After three days of agony, Morgan proved yet again that he was unwilling to die. Claiming that he owed them a debt in blood and food, Morgan was inducted into the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi by the chief of the Warg Company.
Morgan did not spend long in the pikes, as he had been already trained to fight by humans, and the Warg Chief thought his skills were wasted among the recruits. Morgan earned a great deal of resentment from the other Orcs, partly from this blatant favoritism, partly for killing their comrades, but mostly because he was like a human among their ranks. He had never lived among Orcs, and he did not speak a lick of Orcish. When he joined the Warg Company, he was given the meanest bitch in the pack to be his mount, claiming that she was the only warg big enough to hold him and his heavy armor. Morgan steeled himself to prove his worth to his new comrades the only way he knew how: with blood and sweat. Morgan drilled with his warg for hours on end every day, determined to break the beast if it killed him. Hours not spent training with his warg or his blade were spent among his comrades, trying desperately to learn the language and heritage of his people. In time, his efforts paid off. He could speak Orcish reasonably (though with a hideous human accent), and after giving each other a dozen new scars, he had finally bonded with his warg (though she now answered to the vulgar "Garikka" instead of her normal name).
More used to fighting from horseback, Morgan took some time to adjust to fighting atop a warg, but he was already well-used to the ambush tactics used by the Warg Company. Despite their initial distrust and resentment of him, his fellow riders came to respect Morgan after several battles fought together. Even so, he remained something of a distant and unapproachable figure, his humanlike temperment unsettling to most of the tuskers. Even so, after only two years among the warg riders, Morgan was given leadership of his own warband. Morgan's own determination and mad courage kept them on the front lines, and volunteered them for the most dangerous tasks possible. This warband became known as "Morgan's Raiders," and was seen as a band of doomed riders by the rest of the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi. They painted their armor black to emulate their leader, and took on roles other Orcs saw as being suicidal. It was not uncommon for Morgan to be the last survivor of these Raiders after a successful mission. Rumors continued to swirl around Morgan, thinking that perhaps some curse followed him, killing those around him but leaving him unable to die. Despite these rumors, Morgan's skill was unquestionable, leading to the disbandment of Morgan's Raiders and his induction into the Chosen.
Personality and Psychological profile:
Morgan seems to carry a sort of inferiority complex, which drives many of his feeling and decisions. Having known nothing but the scorn and derision of those around him for most of his life, he feels a constant, pressing need to prove his worth to those around him. This fuels both his rash, aggressive nature, and his unshakable tenacity. If presented with a challenge, he will complete it no matter the difficulty or personal cost. He lives for the acceptance of others, but at the same time is withdrawn and unused to close or affectionate relationships. To an observer he seems stoic and humorless, but he is just clueless as to how to appropriately react to most social scenarios. This difficulty is exacerbated further by having been raised by humans, and now living among Orcs. Most distressing to Morgan is his difficulty in forming bonds; he can recognize others as being his comrades, but still cannot bring himself to open up to them, fearing the same betrayal he suffered from his father.
Relationships and Acquaintances:
I'll work on this when there are more characters if that's okay.
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The Angry Goat (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞
Member
Seen
5 yrs ago
Name: Aedyt Rain Hayne, heiress of Ceril
Age: 18
Sex: Female
Breed: Human (quarter dhampir)
Appearance:
Aedyt Hayne has the look of a woman who, until very recently, was able to (and perhaps had to) take great care in her physical appearance. She is a dainty 5’4” tall, weighing in somewhere around 120 lbs. Her legs are a comparatively small portion of her body, and her arms are also not particularly long. She has what can only be described as good birthing hips, for lack of a more dainty term :V , and is overall incredibly attractive: soft skin, etc.. She is also incredibly pale, and burns faster than you’d think was possible in the sun.
Her face is round and full with a line of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the area underneath her eyes. These eyes are light hazel – actually, as you look longer… maybe they’re orange? Her eyebrows are still mostly controlled, though it is clear she hasn’t run into a mirror in quite a while. Her ears are round and her nose is average sized, suggesting a point at its zenith. Her very pale blond – almost silver – hair is incredibly long, it touches her rear, and reaches most of the way down her lower back when braided, which it always is. Her lips are full, and she’s managed to avoid losing any teeth to cavities thus far (though two on her lower left are developing ones – it’s where she usually chews). Her chin as also soft, and her jawbones aren’t at all defined, her face too wide and soft. Small burn scar on the palm of her left hand, which is also her dominant hand.
Skills/Abilities:
- Stunningly charismatic: between her natural beauty, knowing her way around conversations, and understanding people in general, Aedyt is quite good at talking her way out of a situation. And if her natural charm doesn’t work well enough, she can always call upon her innate magical abilities to make herself seem even more amiable – and usefully, these boons can also be applied to others.
- Quite charming: in addition to innate buffs, Aedyt is also capable of some aggressive mind affecting spells. For the most part these are simple things; touching someone to make them forget, making eye contact to convince someone to do something for her, slowly waving her hand across her body to encourage non-aggression. She can also call upon deeper, more…unseemly… heritage to force upon opponents more powerful hallucinations. These can range widely in theme: imagining her summoning demons or hellhounds, thinking that their bodies are beginning to rot and decay, or see themselves slowly dragged into the ground as if in quicksand. Over-use of these abilities will exhaust her, akin to performing a physical task (with stronger stuff being much harder), and all of them are capable of being resisted, especially by willful individuals. These same individuals are also probably not particularly appreciative of being fucked with if/when they figure out what’s going on :V
- Pick your battles: The royal court is a cutthroat business, especially when you’re a bastard and a girl who somehow ended up being heiress to the throne. Aedyt is extremely cautious and well trained in the twin acts of avoiding iffy areas and running the fuck away from danger. That being said, hanging out with a bunch of Orcs kinda means her “get out” alarm is going off 24/7.
- Untrained: A lady does not fight. Her magical abilities, while relatively well practiced, are not trained, as she was forced to hide them. Additionally; she was neither allowed to fight, nor was she ever had to do much exercise, instead forced into the usual “womanly” tasks. The possibility of latent magical or martial skills is likely, especially if she starts to really train one of these abilities. That being said, in her time in exile, she has started to learn how to fight with her dagger, and has discovered that she is rather decent at sneaking about. Gotta get past the guards every once in a while, you know.
Equipment:
- Court Clothing: Aedyt is technically nobility, and she was able to keep around one of her favorite dresses – purple body with white sleeves. Lacks much poof, but is still long and drags behind her a tad bit. No shoes or any other accoutrements, but she can at least wear it to put on a relatively decent royal appearance. Most of her other dresses are far less flamboyant, and she has quite a few shirt/shirt combinations that are much more down to earth, and have more sturdy footwear. She would often wear these on days when she was only interacting with servants, or training with Jenkin, and has mostly brought them with her. Totally keeping the purple dress around though. Loves that one.
- Dagger: 4 inches in length, plain design.
- Princess’s Neckace: Aedyt still wears a necklace; iron chain around her neck, holding a solid gold, teardrop shaped holder with an inset emerald, also in a teardrop shape. She considers it her symbol.
History:
To understand Aedyt, it is necessary to take a momentary step back to her grandmother. Aalid Hayne was… a character. Rebellious to a fault, she had no desire to end up with the marriage her family had set up with the mayor’s son (though this was the fuckin’ jackpot as far as they were concerned), and ended up running away with a few friends she had made. Thing is, these friends were more “friends,” mostly just interested in indoctrinating them into their apocalypse worshipping death cult, the basic tenant of which was that humanity needed to be ritualistically destroyed by a race of super-powerful human/vampire hybrid children. Naturally, they needed to attract women to their cult, which they did by promising a lot of freedoms. They were also pretty bad at making a convincing act, but Aalid was also kind of an idiot.
Long story short, they somehow convinced her it would be a good idea to fuck a vampire. 2 months into her pregnancy the king of the time had to send in some elite forces to break up this cult since the vampires were becoming an issue. Unable to really reintegrate into society, she ended up in a nunnery, where she raised her daughter, Rain Hayne. Rain was much more intelligent – with a (supernatural?) ability to retain anything she was taught, and even find out about things she shouldn’t have known. She was also quite attractive, if a bit freakishly pale. Also her canines were quite long, and she was born with white hair. I guess the king was into that? Aalid was able to use some contacts with fellow nuns to get Rain a job as a servant in the King’s palace, where she eventually caught The king's eye (and boy was she always in the right place to be caught), and was able to get into his bed. Well, his mistress bed. Not bad for a commoner, regardless.
Aedyt was born 9 months later, in the Fall. Her youth was relatively short, having to quickly learn how to navigate the social strata within the court, know who to avoid, and help her mother with knitting, and whatever else it is that low-rung nobility do in a king’s court. The king did take vague interest in his daughter, and did love Rain to some extent, but generally was wrapped up in being a king. He cared enough to secure her a life far better than her servant life before Aedyt’s birth, so there was that at least. Her mother taught her how to hide her own powers, as she had done with her own, and they generally kept a pretty low profile, something which seemed to make the commoners like them even more for some reason. Rain ended up getting more and more sick as Aedyt progressed past 16 years of age though, and eventually passed of unknown causes (liver cancer). Without his beloved mistress around to entertain him, Stephen more or less forgot about Aedyt, and she was eventually sent off to a manor outside of the city, where she got to be even more bored! Onora and Jenkin (her handmaiden and personal guard, respectively) helped to make life more bearable, and Jenkin helped teacher her some tricks with her dagger.
Things started to get more worrying when her father died. Two weeks after the news of this came to her, Onora and Jenkin were recalled to the castle, and she has not heard from either of them since. In their place were the same rather impassionate guards of the estate on which she lived, all relatively old, and – as she began to notice – all without wedding rings. She started to spend more time getting to know the servants of the building, building up quite a few budding friendships to help put off the worries about her claim to the throne. Lord Arad visited a few times to talk business about protecting her claim, giving a suspicious amount of platitudes. She didn’t have any better than his word at the time, so she was forced to trust it, despite questioning why she couldn’t come back. The answer was always vague, something about distrusting members of the court, a chance of her throat being slit in her sleep, or poison dropped in her drink – the usual, he said. His guards would keep her safe until he could secure her safety at the throne, he said. Nothing could go wrong, he said.
So when a bunch of orcs, bristling with weapons covered in fresh blood burst into her bedchamber, she was quite a surprised woman. So were they, as she talked them down, and they discovered that they might just have a mutual opponent.
Personality and Psychological profile:
Aedyt has learned the importance of never letting ones outside betray the feelings within. She is at all times stoic, straight-backed, and ladylike, regardless of her exhaustion, regardless of her distaste for others, regardless of her excitement. This makes her incredibly hard to read, and somewhat unnerving, holding a surprisingly strong presence. That being said, she is externally a charmer, and is more than willing to make promises she cannot keep, listen to whatever is told to her, and keep quite when others are talking. But that’s external.
Internally, she is not as limited by the need to appear neutral and avoid conflicts. Internally, she can feel her seething rage at her father's lack of care and her uncle's conniving. Be excited about the little things, like a cute baby, the sunset, or a bee fumbling around in a flower. Internally, she can yell at these idiotic orcs who had to kill all those fucking guards and make her piss the bed – but they are useful, so she will forgive them.
Overall, expect Aedyt to be conniving and self-serving, but to generally give a shit about people who have earned her trust and respect. She doesn’t see herself as wanting power for power’s sake, instead, just to ensure that she can protect herself and the citizens of Ceril.
Relationships and Acquaintances:
First impression of the company was them trying to kill her, which wasn’t a great start, but the whole not killing her deal was a step in the right direction. Definitely still cautious – under usual circumstances, orcs have developed their reputation for a reason. As heiress to the throne, she has well developed opinions about many of the other big players in this game of many lives and a single chair.
Lord Arad
Before this shameful attempt on her life, Aedyt was hopeful that the Lord would follow through on his word. Obviously this was not the case, though truth be told she didn’t particularly trust him before, either.
Druskel family
Prefers Ren to Bant – Bant’s been consistently rude to her, and she thinks Ren tried to flirt with her once.
Madjun family
Her father always wanted more independence – oversight just clutters everything up, and makes it impossible to make decisions. Give the other nobles more say, and they just argue and steal instead of doing anything of value. Aedyt’s mother, of more common stock, never had anything good to say about nobles, and after her years in the court and her current exile, Aedyt has moved into a similar opinion, but is unlikely to ever show it. Like it or not, the rich still have the influence – for now. If she could find a way to deepen the divisions in their alliance, she would.
The Church of Issad
Aedyt has no strong religious feelings, and her mother actually followed the church of Issad (albeit also rather disinterested), and therefore sees the church as a way to gain support, if needed.
The Elves of Torceleblas
No real interest in elves aside from the usual vague hatred the majority of humans feel towards them. hanging around orcs is likely to make her hate them more though :V
The Dwarves of Thorazum
While Aedyt doesn’t particularly like that the dwarves are probably trading with Arad as she sits around, she’s also aware that it’s more out of convenience for them than anything else. That being said, when the time comes for dolling out vengeance, they could end up on her list. That’s too far in the future to be a real worry, though.
Age: 18
Sex: Female
Breed: Human (quarter dhampir)
Appearance:
Aedyt Hayne has the look of a woman who, until very recently, was able to (and perhaps had to) take great care in her physical appearance. She is a dainty 5’4” tall, weighing in somewhere around 120 lbs. Her legs are a comparatively small portion of her body, and her arms are also not particularly long. She has what can only be described as good birthing hips, for lack of a more dainty term :V , and is overall incredibly attractive: soft skin, etc.. She is also incredibly pale, and burns faster than you’d think was possible in the sun.
Her face is round and full with a line of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the area underneath her eyes. These eyes are light hazel – actually, as you look longer… maybe they’re orange? Her eyebrows are still mostly controlled, though it is clear she hasn’t run into a mirror in quite a while. Her ears are round and her nose is average sized, suggesting a point at its zenith. Her very pale blond – almost silver – hair is incredibly long, it touches her rear, and reaches most of the way down her lower back when braided, which it always is. Her lips are full, and she’s managed to avoid losing any teeth to cavities thus far (though two on her lower left are developing ones – it’s where she usually chews). Her chin as also soft, and her jawbones aren’t at all defined, her face too wide and soft. Small burn scar on the palm of her left hand, which is also her dominant hand.
Skills/Abilities:
- Stunningly charismatic: between her natural beauty, knowing her way around conversations, and understanding people in general, Aedyt is quite good at talking her way out of a situation. And if her natural charm doesn’t work well enough, she can always call upon her innate magical abilities to make herself seem even more amiable – and usefully, these boons can also be applied to others.
- Quite charming: in addition to innate buffs, Aedyt is also capable of some aggressive mind affecting spells. For the most part these are simple things; touching someone to make them forget, making eye contact to convince someone to do something for her, slowly waving her hand across her body to encourage non-aggression. She can also call upon deeper, more…unseemly… heritage to force upon opponents more powerful hallucinations. These can range widely in theme: imagining her summoning demons or hellhounds, thinking that their bodies are beginning to rot and decay, or see themselves slowly dragged into the ground as if in quicksand. Over-use of these abilities will exhaust her, akin to performing a physical task (with stronger stuff being much harder), and all of them are capable of being resisted, especially by willful individuals. These same individuals are also probably not particularly appreciative of being fucked with if/when they figure out what’s going on :V
- Pick your battles: The royal court is a cutthroat business, especially when you’re a bastard and a girl who somehow ended up being heiress to the throne. Aedyt is extremely cautious and well trained in the twin acts of avoiding iffy areas and running the fuck away from danger. That being said, hanging out with a bunch of Orcs kinda means her “get out” alarm is going off 24/7.
- Untrained: A lady does not fight. Her magical abilities, while relatively well practiced, are not trained, as she was forced to hide them. Additionally; she was neither allowed to fight, nor was she ever had to do much exercise, instead forced into the usual “womanly” tasks. The possibility of latent magical or martial skills is likely, especially if she starts to really train one of these abilities. That being said, in her time in exile, she has started to learn how to fight with her dagger, and has discovered that she is rather decent at sneaking about. Gotta get past the guards every once in a while, you know.
Equipment:
- Court Clothing: Aedyt is technically nobility, and she was able to keep around one of her favorite dresses – purple body with white sleeves. Lacks much poof, but is still long and drags behind her a tad bit. No shoes or any other accoutrements, but she can at least wear it to put on a relatively decent royal appearance. Most of her other dresses are far less flamboyant, and she has quite a few shirt/shirt combinations that are much more down to earth, and have more sturdy footwear. She would often wear these on days when she was only interacting with servants, or training with Jenkin, and has mostly brought them with her. Totally keeping the purple dress around though. Loves that one.
- Dagger: 4 inches in length, plain design.
- Princess’s Neckace: Aedyt still wears a necklace; iron chain around her neck, holding a solid gold, teardrop shaped holder with an inset emerald, also in a teardrop shape. She considers it her symbol.
History:
To understand Aedyt, it is necessary to take a momentary step back to her grandmother. Aalid Hayne was… a character. Rebellious to a fault, she had no desire to end up with the marriage her family had set up with the mayor’s son (though this was the fuckin’ jackpot as far as they were concerned), and ended up running away with a few friends she had made. Thing is, these friends were more “friends,” mostly just interested in indoctrinating them into their apocalypse worshipping death cult, the basic tenant of which was that humanity needed to be ritualistically destroyed by a race of super-powerful human/vampire hybrid children. Naturally, they needed to attract women to their cult, which they did by promising a lot of freedoms. They were also pretty bad at making a convincing act, but Aalid was also kind of an idiot.
Long story short, they somehow convinced her it would be a good idea to fuck a vampire. 2 months into her pregnancy the king of the time had to send in some elite forces to break up this cult since the vampires were becoming an issue. Unable to really reintegrate into society, she ended up in a nunnery, where she raised her daughter, Rain Hayne. Rain was much more intelligent – with a (supernatural?) ability to retain anything she was taught, and even find out about things she shouldn’t have known. She was also quite attractive, if a bit freakishly pale. Also her canines were quite long, and she was born with white hair. I guess the king was into that? Aalid was able to use some contacts with fellow nuns to get Rain a job as a servant in the King’s palace, where she eventually caught The king's eye (and boy was she always in the right place to be caught), and was able to get into his bed. Well, his mistress bed. Not bad for a commoner, regardless.
Aedyt was born 9 months later, in the Fall. Her youth was relatively short, having to quickly learn how to navigate the social strata within the court, know who to avoid, and help her mother with knitting, and whatever else it is that low-rung nobility do in a king’s court. The king did take vague interest in his daughter, and did love Rain to some extent, but generally was wrapped up in being a king. He cared enough to secure her a life far better than her servant life before Aedyt’s birth, so there was that at least. Her mother taught her how to hide her own powers, as she had done with her own, and they generally kept a pretty low profile, something which seemed to make the commoners like them even more for some reason. Rain ended up getting more and more sick as Aedyt progressed past 16 years of age though, and eventually passed of unknown causes (liver cancer). Without his beloved mistress around to entertain him, Stephen more or less forgot about Aedyt, and she was eventually sent off to a manor outside of the city, where she got to be even more bored! Onora and Jenkin (her handmaiden and personal guard, respectively) helped to make life more bearable, and Jenkin helped teacher her some tricks with her dagger.
Things started to get more worrying when her father died. Two weeks after the news of this came to her, Onora and Jenkin were recalled to the castle, and she has not heard from either of them since. In their place were the same rather impassionate guards of the estate on which she lived, all relatively old, and – as she began to notice – all without wedding rings. She started to spend more time getting to know the servants of the building, building up quite a few budding friendships to help put off the worries about her claim to the throne. Lord Arad visited a few times to talk business about protecting her claim, giving a suspicious amount of platitudes. She didn’t have any better than his word at the time, so she was forced to trust it, despite questioning why she couldn’t come back. The answer was always vague, something about distrusting members of the court, a chance of her throat being slit in her sleep, or poison dropped in her drink – the usual, he said. His guards would keep her safe until he could secure her safety at the throne, he said. Nothing could go wrong, he said.
So when a bunch of orcs, bristling with weapons covered in fresh blood burst into her bedchamber, she was quite a surprised woman. So were they, as she talked them down, and they discovered that they might just have a mutual opponent.
Personality and Psychological profile:
Aedyt has learned the importance of never letting ones outside betray the feelings within. She is at all times stoic, straight-backed, and ladylike, regardless of her exhaustion, regardless of her distaste for others, regardless of her excitement. This makes her incredibly hard to read, and somewhat unnerving, holding a surprisingly strong presence. That being said, she is externally a charmer, and is more than willing to make promises she cannot keep, listen to whatever is told to her, and keep quite when others are talking. But that’s external.
Internally, she is not as limited by the need to appear neutral and avoid conflicts. Internally, she can feel her seething rage at her father's lack of care and her uncle's conniving. Be excited about the little things, like a cute baby, the sunset, or a bee fumbling around in a flower. Internally, she can yell at these idiotic orcs who had to kill all those fucking guards and make her piss the bed – but they are useful, so she will forgive them.
Overall, expect Aedyt to be conniving and self-serving, but to generally give a shit about people who have earned her trust and respect. She doesn’t see herself as wanting power for power’s sake, instead, just to ensure that she can protect herself and the citizens of Ceril.
Relationships and Acquaintances:
First impression of the company was them trying to kill her, which wasn’t a great start, but the whole not killing her deal was a step in the right direction. Definitely still cautious – under usual circumstances, orcs have developed their reputation for a reason. As heiress to the throne, she has well developed opinions about many of the other big players in this game of many lives and a single chair.
Lord Arad
Before this shameful attempt on her life, Aedyt was hopeful that the Lord would follow through on his word. Obviously this was not the case, though truth be told she didn’t particularly trust him before, either.
Druskel family
Prefers Ren to Bant – Bant’s been consistently rude to her, and she thinks Ren tried to flirt with her once.
Madjun family
Her father always wanted more independence – oversight just clutters everything up, and makes it impossible to make decisions. Give the other nobles more say, and they just argue and steal instead of doing anything of value. Aedyt’s mother, of more common stock, never had anything good to say about nobles, and after her years in the court and her current exile, Aedyt has moved into a similar opinion, but is unlikely to ever show it. Like it or not, the rich still have the influence – for now. If she could find a way to deepen the divisions in their alliance, she would.
The Church of Issad
Aedyt has no strong religious feelings, and her mother actually followed the church of Issad (albeit also rather disinterested), and therefore sees the church as a way to gain support, if needed.
The Elves of Torceleblas
No real interest in elves aside from the usual vague hatred the majority of humans feel towards them. hanging around orcs is likely to make her hate them more though :V
The Dwarves of Thorazum
While Aedyt doesn’t particularly like that the dwarves are probably trading with Arad as she sits around, she’s also aware that it’s more out of convenience for them than anything else. That being said, when the time comes for dolling out vengeance, they could end up on her list. That’s too far in the future to be a real worry, though.
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Samdragonx The croo broom wielder
Member
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4 yrs ago
@HeySeuss Done and done.
Lurking Krog Caffeinated Lurker.
Member
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2 hrs ago
Name: Nac’mrah Gromer
Age: 18
Sex: Male
Breed: Pure-blood orc.
Appearance: 7’5” grey-green skin and weighs approximately 350 pounds, muscular build, maintains a shaved head except for a braid that goes from the top of his head down to his lower back, no facial hair, eyes are grey, always wears a leather strap around his neck that runs through twenty-three elf ears and fifteen human ears, both arms are painted red up to the middle of his upper arm.
Wears rough spun breeches and a bear fur cloak when not in armor.
His back and chest are crisscrossed scars from his time as a slave. He also bears a brand on the right side of his face shaped like a sickle and scythe also accompanied by a scar going from the left part of his forehead to the right side of his chin.
Abilities/skills:
Cleave: brings the axe head of the halberd down with such force it renders armor easily and is liable to remove limbs.
Hook ‘n Pull: Using the hook on the back of the halberd Nac’mrah can pull an man off a horse or off his feet to the ground.
Call to arms: Sounds his warhorn to call the other orcs to arms when battle is to be engaged. Can also be quite demoralizing especially when backed by the sounding drums.
Equipment:
Halbred (ten foot long pole, axe head and the point at the tip are kept sharp.)
Heavy plate breastplate with underlying chainmail, chainmail greaves with plate fastened to the thighs and calfs. Fur boots with bits of metal plate secured to it. Visored helm adorned with a skull on top held in place with a spike. Chainmail sleeves are all the protect his arms. The plate armor he wears has red paint stripes over the chest piece and the back.
Elven dagger he stole from his master after killing him and most of his family. Uses it to cut the ears off to add to his collection.
Iron banded warhorn
History:
Nac’mrah was born a slave. His father originally was a free orc captured by a slaver attack on his mountain tribe. His mother was a born a slave as he was. He has a half sister, same mother, who is half elf as well. His father had beaten the mentality of blood is blood, more simply kin is kin, no matter what. With that he took to protecting his sister.
His master was a human who had married an elf. Their children made up most of the overseers for the slaves and the house.
Life as a slave was brutal though not as bad as in tribal life, though the other male orcs slaves had constantly fought to establish dominance. Nac'mrah had been on the bottom until he was around the age of ten when he was final starting to get strong enough to fight back. By the age of twelve he had established himself as dominate over many of the other orcs.
Now outside of the male orcs trying to establish dominance their masters had often had the more defiant ones whipped, which was most of them. Nac’mrah was one of them, have earned many of his lashes from simply defying what he was told to do or running away. The whippings never did take, they simply made him hate whips and half elves/half humans. Around his thirteenth year his father had ran off after hearing of an orc mercenary band forming and sought to join them leaving his son behind though planning to return eventually to take him. He was brought back two days later and whipped in front of the others than hung to make an example. Nac’mrah had been begun to plan and organize an uprising that night.
The next morning he walked up to where his father hung to cut him down. One of his master's sons confronted him and told him to return to the fields. Nac’mrah ignored him and cut the rope with the bill he carried. The half elf unfurled his whip and struck Nac’mrah across the face leaving one final scar. When the man brought the whip down again Nac’mrah grabbed the whip and pulled him down then strangled him with it. He took the horn from the corpse and blew it to signal the others to attack.
In the end only the wife and daughter of the former slave master were left alive. Both were missing their left ear, at the hand of Nac’mrah with the knife he took from his master after impaling him with the bill, bound to the oak tree in the center of the grove the mother maintained, and gagged to prevent them from using their knife ear magic. The grove was put to the torch and the rabble band of ex-slaves headed to the last known direction of the newly formed mercenary band driving cattle, sheep, and pigs they took from the farm as well as grain.
From there Nac’mrah had spent two years in the pikes having the discipline beaten into him. It was worse than the beatings he received as a slave. After his first year and a half he began to understand that it was to establish dominance as well. From then he started learning to use the halberd and has recently come up to the ranks of the Chosen.
Personality and Psychological profile:
Hates half human half elves, hates whips, likes to collect ears as trophies. Enjoys burning groves elfa made with the elfs tied to the burning trees.
Relationships and Acquaintances:
Sirhna tree talker (his sister), Moloch, fears Moordekrai.
Age: 18
Sex: Male
Breed: Pure-blood orc.
Appearance: 7’5” grey-green skin and weighs approximately 350 pounds, muscular build, maintains a shaved head except for a braid that goes from the top of his head down to his lower back, no facial hair, eyes are grey, always wears a leather strap around his neck that runs through twenty-three elf ears and fifteen human ears, both arms are painted red up to the middle of his upper arm.
Wears rough spun breeches and a bear fur cloak when not in armor.
His back and chest are crisscrossed scars from his time as a slave. He also bears a brand on the right side of his face shaped like a sickle and scythe also accompanied by a scar going from the left part of his forehead to the right side of his chin.
Abilities/skills:
Cleave: brings the axe head of the halberd down with such force it renders armor easily and is liable to remove limbs.
Hook ‘n Pull: Using the hook on the back of the halberd Nac’mrah can pull an man off a horse or off his feet to the ground.
Call to arms: Sounds his warhorn to call the other orcs to arms when battle is to be engaged. Can also be quite demoralizing especially when backed by the sounding drums.
Equipment:
Halbred (ten foot long pole, axe head and the point at the tip are kept sharp.)
Heavy plate breastplate with underlying chainmail, chainmail greaves with plate fastened to the thighs and calfs. Fur boots with bits of metal plate secured to it. Visored helm adorned with a skull on top held in place with a spike. Chainmail sleeves are all the protect his arms. The plate armor he wears has red paint stripes over the chest piece and the back.
Elven dagger he stole from his master after killing him and most of his family. Uses it to cut the ears off to add to his collection.
Iron banded warhorn
History:
Nac’mrah was born a slave. His father originally was a free orc captured by a slaver attack on his mountain tribe. His mother was a born a slave as he was. He has a half sister, same mother, who is half elf as well. His father had beaten the mentality of blood is blood, more simply kin is kin, no matter what. With that he took to protecting his sister.
His master was a human who had married an elf. Their children made up most of the overseers for the slaves and the house.
Life as a slave was brutal though not as bad as in tribal life, though the other male orcs slaves had constantly fought to establish dominance. Nac'mrah had been on the bottom until he was around the age of ten when he was final starting to get strong enough to fight back. By the age of twelve he had established himself as dominate over many of the other orcs.
Now outside of the male orcs trying to establish dominance their masters had often had the more defiant ones whipped, which was most of them. Nac’mrah was one of them, have earned many of his lashes from simply defying what he was told to do or running away. The whippings never did take, they simply made him hate whips and half elves/half humans. Around his thirteenth year his father had ran off after hearing of an orc mercenary band forming and sought to join them leaving his son behind though planning to return eventually to take him. He was brought back two days later and whipped in front of the others than hung to make an example. Nac’mrah had been begun to plan and organize an uprising that night.
The next morning he walked up to where his father hung to cut him down. One of his master's sons confronted him and told him to return to the fields. Nac’mrah ignored him and cut the rope with the bill he carried. The half elf unfurled his whip and struck Nac’mrah across the face leaving one final scar. When the man brought the whip down again Nac’mrah grabbed the whip and pulled him down then strangled him with it. He took the horn from the corpse and blew it to signal the others to attack.
In the end only the wife and daughter of the former slave master were left alive. Both were missing their left ear, at the hand of Nac’mrah with the knife he took from his master after impaling him with the bill, bound to the oak tree in the center of the grove the mother maintained, and gagged to prevent them from using their knife ear magic. The grove was put to the torch and the rabble band of ex-slaves headed to the last known direction of the newly formed mercenary band driving cattle, sheep, and pigs they took from the farm as well as grain.
From there Nac’mrah had spent two years in the pikes having the discipline beaten into him. It was worse than the beatings he received as a slave. After his first year and a half he began to understand that it was to establish dominance as well. From then he started learning to use the halberd and has recently come up to the ranks of the Chosen.
Personality and Psychological profile:
Hates half human half elves, hates whips, likes to collect ears as trophies. Enjoys burning groves elfa made with the elfs tied to the burning trees.
Relationships and Acquaintances:
Sirhna tree talker (his sister), Moloch, fears Moordekrai.
GM
HeySeuss DJ Hot Carl
Member
Seen
2 mos ago
@vietmyke@Hank@DJAtomika@Samdragonx@Tybalt Capulet@Byrd Man@The Angry Goat@Dead Cruiser@Kangaroo
First post up.
They had a fight to get to Aedyt but that was a preliminary. Now they're lining up open field to fight because the castle's a death trap. And yeah, it's an ambush.
Thoughts on where your characters will be? I would pop them in various locations and maybe collaborate on posts based on those roles. Currently I see:
1. People with Radush at the back of the fight.
2. Scouts (with wargs) fighting other scouts, and generally pinning down opponents to give the actual warg cavalry time to attack.
3. Warg cavalry, probably turning flanks against any cavalry or archer types.
4. Blades, Spikes and Pikes on the main line.
5. Anything else someone can devise.
I have not devised terrain for this, but I think an open meadow and some forest and that is all totally flammable. If anyone wants to add terrain or draw a map, I have no problems with this.
We don't have the enemy nailed down, but I figure they have some bunny knights, bunny armsmen and bunny peasants given a spear and told to fight. You can add detail as required.
Also, as a challenge, the bunnies brought some wizards. That's for you @Hank and potentially for anyone else that wants to go a-slaughterin.
First post up.
They had a fight to get to Aedyt but that was a preliminary. Now they're lining up open field to fight because the castle's a death trap. And yeah, it's an ambush.
Thoughts on where your characters will be? I would pop them in various locations and maybe collaborate on posts based on those roles. Currently I see:
1. People with Radush at the back of the fight.
2. Scouts (with wargs) fighting other scouts, and generally pinning down opponents to give the actual warg cavalry time to attack.
3. Warg cavalry, probably turning flanks against any cavalry or archer types.
4. Blades, Spikes and Pikes on the main line.
5. Anything else someone can devise.
I have not devised terrain for this, but I think an open meadow and some forest and that is all totally flammable. If anyone wants to add terrain or draw a map, I have no problems with this.
We don't have the enemy nailed down, but I figure they have some bunny knights, bunny armsmen and bunny peasants given a spear and told to fight. You can add detail as required.
Also, as a challenge, the bunnies brought some wizards. That's for you @Hank and potentially for anyone else that wants to go a-slaughterin.
DJAtomika Second to Most
Member
Seen
4 mos ago
Name: Karrush the Flagbearer
Age: 33
Sex: Female
Breed: Full blooded orc
Appearance: Standing tall at six feet eight inches tall, Karrush is an imposing woman to even stare at. Muscles make up almost every fibre of her body, and her eyes are a rich, dark brown underneath a shock of short, military-style hair cut into a small mohawk. Her skin is a lighter shade of green mixed with a slate gray, with small tusks and a few small scars dotting her face and thin nose. Stripes of red run down her cheeks, and white war paint makes a crude but effective skull underneath that, making her countenance look like a weeping skull.
Where Moordekrai walks with all the grace of a stalking panther, Karrush carries herself like a walking tank, her size and strength more than telling of her role in the Company. Her arms are covered with scars, as well as painted on markings of tiny skulls on each of her knuckles. Her neck carries more war paint, in the form of mock scars and sutures that go around her neck as if to signify decapitation.
Skills/Abilities:
- All-Round Combat: Having been in frontline and back-line combat for years, Karrush has learned much about the ways of fighting, both with a weapon and without one. Her best weapon is her trusty pike, but throw anything into her hands and she'll turn it into a lethal weapon, including if nothing lands in them.
- Resilience: Nothing really fazes Karrush any more. Years of battle against greater foes have taught her the meaning of the words "be a wall". Her strength behind a shield extends to those around her; her own will and drive to succeed and push forward flows through her war cries and battle shouts, pushing the other pikemen forward against all odds.
- Loud: Her lungs are big and her voice is bigger, to better carry across a noisy battlefield.
- Cool Head: Most rookies fall to pieces during their first battle, and that's when Karrush drills them to always have a cool head, even when the fighting's at its worst. Having a calm, decisive mind in the heat of battle makes the difference between life and death that much bigger.
- Tracking: Having spent most of her life trying to hunt down the ruthless orcs that had shattered her life has given Karrush a rather keen eye and a sense of direction, and her tracking abilities are not the best, but amongst her brethren they do suffice.
Equipment:
- The Company Standard: A simple flag on a pole, the Company's standard never leaves her armour. The only time she doesn't carry the sign of their impending attack is when they're not at war. Other standard bearers don't treat the flags with the respect they deserve. She does. Her standard's pole is covered in notches and marks of battles past, though the flag is always clean and new for every battle. The tusks of the fallen adorn both the pole itself and her armour, and a single skull sits atop her flag.
- Medium Armour: A normal set of medium weight plate armour, enough to provide good all-round protection, but light enough for her to maneuver around a battlefield without getting weighed down. The tusks of her fallen tusker brethren adorn her shoulder pauldrons, cleaned of gore and nicks, and her shoulders are painted bright red, with white spikes in the corners.
- Buckler: The shield that goes onto her left arm. Notched and worn, but hardy and as resilient as she is, her shield has seen her through many battles and saved her life countless times.
- Landweaver's Razor: Her main weapon, for when things get too close for comfort. With her shield on her arm, flag in one hand and sword in the other, she makes for a deadly, if short-ranged warrior. The sword hilt is decorated with the tusks of her dead family and friends, wrapped in bandages for grip and is sharpened every other day when she has the time.
- Knife Pouch: A simple leather pouch that holds small, fine blades that are perfect for throwing. Normally she doesn't use much of these, but when an enemy is retreating and she isn't in the mood to take prisoners, a few blades to the back suffice.
History:
Personality and Psychological profile:
Relationships and Acquaintances:
Age: 33
Sex: Female
Breed: Full blooded orc
Appearance: Standing tall at six feet eight inches tall, Karrush is an imposing woman to even stare at. Muscles make up almost every fibre of her body, and her eyes are a rich, dark brown underneath a shock of short, military-style hair cut into a small mohawk. Her skin is a lighter shade of green mixed with a slate gray, with small tusks and a few small scars dotting her face and thin nose. Stripes of red run down her cheeks, and white war paint makes a crude but effective skull underneath that, making her countenance look like a weeping skull.
Where Moordekrai walks with all the grace of a stalking panther, Karrush carries herself like a walking tank, her size and strength more than telling of her role in the Company. Her arms are covered with scars, as well as painted on markings of tiny skulls on each of her knuckles. Her neck carries more war paint, in the form of mock scars and sutures that go around her neck as if to signify decapitation.
Skills/Abilities:
- All-Round Combat: Having been in frontline and back-line combat for years, Karrush has learned much about the ways of fighting, both with a weapon and without one. Her best weapon is her trusty pike, but throw anything into her hands and she'll turn it into a lethal weapon, including if nothing lands in them.
- Resilience: Nothing really fazes Karrush any more. Years of battle against greater foes have taught her the meaning of the words "be a wall". Her strength behind a shield extends to those around her; her own will and drive to succeed and push forward flows through her war cries and battle shouts, pushing the other pikemen forward against all odds.
- Loud: Her lungs are big and her voice is bigger, to better carry across a noisy battlefield.
- Cool Head: Most rookies fall to pieces during their first battle, and that's when Karrush drills them to always have a cool head, even when the fighting's at its worst. Having a calm, decisive mind in the heat of battle makes the difference between life and death that much bigger.
- Tracking: Having spent most of her life trying to hunt down the ruthless orcs that had shattered her life has given Karrush a rather keen eye and a sense of direction, and her tracking abilities are not the best, but amongst her brethren they do suffice.
Equipment:
- The Company Standard: A simple flag on a pole, the Company's standard never leaves her armour. The only time she doesn't carry the sign of their impending attack is when they're not at war. Other standard bearers don't treat the flags with the respect they deserve. She does. Her standard's pole is covered in notches and marks of battles past, though the flag is always clean and new for every battle. The tusks of the fallen adorn both the pole itself and her armour, and a single skull sits atop her flag.
- Medium Armour: A normal set of medium weight plate armour, enough to provide good all-round protection, but light enough for her to maneuver around a battlefield without getting weighed down. The tusks of her fallen tusker brethren adorn her shoulder pauldrons, cleaned of gore and nicks, and her shoulders are painted bright red, with white spikes in the corners.
- Buckler: The shield that goes onto her left arm. Notched and worn, but hardy and as resilient as she is, her shield has seen her through many battles and saved her life countless times.
- Landweaver's Razor: Her main weapon, for when things get too close for comfort. With her shield on her arm, flag in one hand and sword in the other, she makes for a deadly, if short-ranged warrior. The sword hilt is decorated with the tusks of her dead family and friends, wrapped in bandages for grip and is sharpened every other day when she has the time.
- Knife Pouch: A simple leather pouch that holds small, fine blades that are perfect for throwing. Normally she doesn't use much of these, but when an enemy is retreating and she isn't in the mood to take prisoners, a few blades to the back suffice.
History:
Karrush was once a simpler orc, part of the Landweavers, a tribe of farmers who resorted only to violence when their land was in danger. As a result, most of her early upbringing was peaceful, and she honed her innate strength in helping to till land, turning over fields and hauling lumber. Hunting and tending to animals came naturally, as did the messier skill of butchery. Coming out of this life and into one of soldiery was not easy, but the skills she learned and the body she'd honed over her early years helped her immensely.
One year, during a particularly bad famine, her village was raided by a rival band of Orcs. Stronger, possessing more powerful weapons and more men, they burnt the village to the ground, stealing all their food, livestock and killing as many as they could before running away.
Rather distraught, but resolute in her revenge, she took up rudimentary arms and began the slow, slow process of hunting them down. Bloodied, bruised but unflinching, she pursued her foes for months, stopping only to rest and to feed herself off the land. By the time she'd gained ground, however, it'd been a year and the trail had gone cold. The orcs that had destroyed her home had vanished. Upped stakes and moved on to another region. It was the first time she'd given up on something.
It was around this time she ran into a party of training orcs from the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi. Lost and in a daze, she was taken in by the Company and subsequently nursed back to health. She expressed interest in joining up with them since she had no more home to return to.
Karrush was thrown rather unceremoniously into the Pikes, where she flourished. The long, heavy polearms were reminiscent of the hoes and plows she'd used back home, and she took to their use quickly. Training under the Drillmaster, it didn't take long for her to master the use of the Pikes. But when it came time for her to move on to another warband, she refused. The pike was her weapon and under her insistence, she stayed within the Pikes among the newer tuskers.
Her bravery during a campaign was how she became the Company's lead standard bearer; during a contracted skirmish against a hostile force,
the original standard bearer fell in combat. Without hesitating, she took up the standard, planted it in her armour and took charge of the tuskers in her pike line, pushing them forward to repel their attackers. After the battle was won, she held onto the standard and has done so ever since. Her reputation of staying in the Pike line even though she's more than ripe for a promotion elsewhere has spread to other warbands, and others have learned not to ask her why she stays.
One year, during a particularly bad famine, her village was raided by a rival band of Orcs. Stronger, possessing more powerful weapons and more men, they burnt the village to the ground, stealing all their food, livestock and killing as many as they could before running away.
Rather distraught, but resolute in her revenge, she took up rudimentary arms and began the slow, slow process of hunting them down. Bloodied, bruised but unflinching, she pursued her foes for months, stopping only to rest and to feed herself off the land. By the time she'd gained ground, however, it'd been a year and the trail had gone cold. The orcs that had destroyed her home had vanished. Upped stakes and moved on to another region. It was the first time she'd given up on something.
It was around this time she ran into a party of training orcs from the Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi. Lost and in a daze, she was taken in by the Company and subsequently nursed back to health. She expressed interest in joining up with them since she had no more home to return to.
Karrush was thrown rather unceremoniously into the Pikes, where she flourished. The long, heavy polearms were reminiscent of the hoes and plows she'd used back home, and she took to their use quickly. Training under the Drillmaster, it didn't take long for her to master the use of the Pikes. But when it came time for her to move on to another warband, she refused. The pike was her weapon and under her insistence, she stayed within the Pikes among the newer tuskers.
Her bravery during a campaign was how she became the Company's lead standard bearer; during a contracted skirmish against a hostile force,
the original standard bearer fell in combat. Without hesitating, she took up the standard, planted it in her armour and took charge of the tuskers in her pike line, pushing them forward to repel their attackers. After the battle was won, she held onto the standard and has done so ever since. Her reputation of staying in the Pike line even though she's more than ripe for a promotion elsewhere has spread to other warbands, and others have learned not to ask her why she stays.
Personality and Psychological profile:
Karrush is an orc that often won't take no for an answer. The newbie tuskers under her in the pike line speak often of how they're shouted into submission by the angry flagbearer at the head of their line. Tough love is the name of her game, just like the Drillmaster she trained under. She is the type to grit her teeth and plunge headfirst into danger so that her warband and the rookie tuskers under her come out on top.
Underneath the stern, strong and fierce exterior is a rather broken individual; having lost all semblance of family, the Company is really all she has left, and though she's a tough orc, losing anyone puts a dent in her pride. She hates having to bury one of their own, and wears their tusks on her armour with all the pride she can muster.
Underneath the stern, strong and fierce exterior is a rather broken individual; having lost all semblance of family, the Company is really all she has left, and though she's a tough orc, losing anyone puts a dent in her pride. She hates having to bury one of their own, and wears their tusks on her armour with all the pride she can muster.
Relationships and Acquaintances:
TBA
Tybalt Capulet Honorable Heretic
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Hey, if anyone wants to have a pre-existing connection to my old veteran Shragatch, I'm all for that. He would have been in the military for quite some time, so it's entirely possible that he would have run into at least one of you.
Edit: Also, is anyone playing the princess yet?
Edit: Also, is anyone playing the princess yet?
1x Like
GM
HeySeuss DJ Hot Carl
Member
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2 mos ago
Alright, I would like to get people to tell me where their characters are going to be in the fight. There are options:
1. People with Radush at the back of the fight.
2. Scouts (with wargs) fighting other scouts, and generally pinning down opponents to give the actual warg cavalry time to attack.
3. Warg cavalry, probably turning flanks against any cavalry or archer types.
4. Blades, Spikes and Pikes on the main line.
5. Anything else someone can devise.
1. People with Radush at the back of the fight.
2. Scouts (with wargs) fighting other scouts, and generally pinning down opponents to give the actual warg cavalry time to attack.
3. Warg cavalry, probably turning flanks against any cavalry or archer types.
4. Blades, Spikes and Pikes on the main line.
5. Anything else someone can devise.
Lurking Krog Caffeinated Lurker.
Member
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2 hrs ago
Nac'mrah is with the pikes at the main line.
Tybalt Capulet Honorable Heretic
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Shragatch would be towards the back, with Radush.
Dead Cruiser Dishonour Before Death / Better You Than Me
Member
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14 days ago
Morgan is most likely leading the charge of the Warg Cavalry.
Byrd Man El Hombre Pájaro
Member
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9 days ago
Imagine Boom Boom is somewhere in the back with the catapults and artillery.
The join status still reads 'apply,' so I hope another tusker will be considered for the roster. I've gotten to work on a little WIP:
Name: Omaz, “The White Snake”
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Breed: Half-orc (human blood)
Appearance:
Omaz just barely reaches six feet in stature, his human ancestry weighing him down at the low end of the orc average. He is neither bulky, by orc standards, but respectably built with strands of lean, whipcord muscle. His body has all the hallmarks of a soldier: calloused hands and feet, weatherworn skin, a helping of scars and a back used to stiffening. His facial features are undeniably orcish, affected only subtly by his human blood. Compared to many other orcs in the company, in fact, his visage has a predatory cast. He could be called handsome - if in a savage sort of way. Rather than the common mottled green skin of other orcs, Omaz is pale like white jade, only the faintest touch of green is noticeable.
Skills/Abilities:
Equipment:
History:
(You can invent a tribe, name regions and countries and cities and so forth to pull this one off, but most important is how they came to Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi and where they served in the unit.)
Personality and Psychological profile:
Be sure to relate this to the character's history; the history ought to explain the character's outlook anyway.
Relationships and Acquaintances:
Nearly every newbie hears the legends of the “company ghost” not long after getting broken in. Omaz is content to let seasoned tuskers amuse themselves with these jokes; he relishes the attention it's given him and knows that he’s given even these regulars ‘the spook’ at one time. His semi-official role as company historian has put him in good graces with the upper echelons and anyone curious about the unit’s past.
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Breed: Half-orc (human blood)
Appearance:
Omaz just barely reaches six feet in stature, his human ancestry weighing him down at the low end of the orc average. He is neither bulky, by orc standards, but respectably built with strands of lean, whipcord muscle. His body has all the hallmarks of a soldier: calloused hands and feet, weatherworn skin, a helping of scars and a back used to stiffening. His facial features are undeniably orcish, affected only subtly by his human blood. Compared to many other orcs in the company, in fact, his visage has a predatory cast. He could be called handsome - if in a savage sort of way. Rather than the common mottled green skin of other orcs, Omaz is pale like white jade, only the faintest touch of green is noticeable.
Skills/Abilities:
- “The Boogeyman”: Omaz has a reputation within the company as something of a phantom. His coming is usually unannounced, unexpected and unpredictable. He seems to tread without a sound, no matter the terrain underfoot. It’s a recurring joke to warn new recruits to “beware the ‘company ghost’,” only for Omaz to scare them out of their wits later on. This reputation has utility as well, for Omaz in an unparalleled cutthroat and has served the company in many high-profile missions where stealth is paramount.
- “Kingslayer”: Although nobody can confirm it, it’s rumored that Omaz is responsible for the deaths of the company’s highest-profile targets. Enemy commanders, local lords, company rivals - nobody is safe from the “White Snake.” Whether by intentional assassination, happenstance on the battlefield or in single combat, important people have a habit of meeting their end at his hand.
- “Historian”: While recordkeeping might be lost on some of the company’s more simple-minded individuals, Omaz collects and maintains the company’s history in a series of annals. Every great deed, every tusker, every battle is recorded in these annals. To Omaz, these are the company’s lifeblood - memories that immortalize its legacy.
- “Venom”: It’s a mystery how Omaz accumulated such knowledge, but he can craft dozens of poisons with a variety of effects. Medicine and culinary art is lost on him, but when it comes to debilitating substances, he’s the tusker to see. New concoctions are tested on prisoners too lowly to be ransomed, and any unfortunate enough to have a bounty on their heads. He coats the edges of his weapons in poisons and toxins, ensuring even a slight cut can have lethal effect.
- “Versatile”: Omaz might not be as accurate as a tusker that’s spent most of his life as a spiker, or as fast as a dedicated warg rider, or even as deadly in an upfront combat as a blade; however, he can do just about anything asked of him to a significant degree. Hours of cross-training have given him a broad understanding of different weapon styles and tusker roles - useful information both in the field and the war room.
Equipment:
- When he’s not sneaking around and intends to fight more conventionally, Omaz dons a suit of orcish armor, complete with vicious trimmings and trophy racks. He wears a sweat-stained gambeson underneath the plates to prevent chafing.
- Omaz carries a falcata-like sword typical of those used by other tuskers. This is often accompanied by a jagged shield strapped to the forearm that is just as much a weapon as it is a defensive tool.
- Vials of poison are tucked into Omaz’s belt, should he ever need them.
- The company annals span stacks of books and scrolls that are stored away in Omaz’s quarters. He keeps a pen and parchment handy if he needs to record details that will be added to them later.
- Daggers, miscellaneous gear and situational weapons are carried from time to time.
History:
(You can invent a tribe, name regions and countries and cities and so forth to pull this one off, but most important is how they came to Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi and where they served in the unit.)
Personality and Psychological profile:
Be sure to relate this to the character's history; the history ought to explain the character's outlook anyway.
Relationships and Acquaintances:
Nearly every newbie hears the legends of the “company ghost” not long after getting broken in. Omaz is content to let seasoned tuskers amuse themselves with these jokes; he relishes the attention it's given him and knows that he’s given even these regulars ‘the spook’ at one time. His semi-official role as company historian has put him in good graces with the upper echelons and anyone curious about the unit’s past.
3x Like
Samdragonx The croo broom wielder
Member
Seen
4 yrs ago
Tendun tends to the main line. Closing the distance and hacking away(if available)!
The Angry Goat (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞
Member
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5 yrs ago
The join status still reads 'apply,' so I hope another tusker will be considered for the roster. I've gotten to work on a little WIP:
[snipped hider]
I damn sure hope he's accepted, Ormaz is cool
1x Thank
Hank Dionysian Mystery
Moderator
Seen
6 days ago
Also, as a challenge, the bunnies brought some wizards. That's for you @Hank and potentially for anyone else that wants to go a-slaughterin.
Oh, excellent. I'll have Moordekrai in the front looking for these so-called "wizards". Anyone up there that wants to collab?
Lurking Krog Caffeinated Lurker.
Member
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2 hrs ago
@Hank Sure I'll be up for that.
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