[CHAR] Gurr'Kha - The Dead World

CHARACTERS

Bring out the big guns and create a realistic character within this unrealistic setting. Make sure you read up on the S.P.E.C.I.A.L. stat system, and stat your character accordingly. Remember, even though flawed characters are not attractive, they are the most realistic ones!

Template

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Name:
Age:
Race:
Sex:
Description:
Notable Belongings:
Backstory:

[Max the Wolf]

tried to delet but cant...

[Bishop]

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RACE
Human

GENDER
Male

BLOODLINE

Dragonborn

A long dead and erased from history bloodline that was said to have perished along with the Gods. This bloodline of warriors existed for one purpose only: to kill dragons. Their ancestors were said to have slain dragons, which in turn gave them the traits, and some of the abilities, of a dragon. Each and every one of them got enhanced physical abilities and special abilities. They all became distinguished soldiers who quickly rose up the military hierarchy and became generals. With their power to aid the human armies the dragons stood no chance. After the imminent threat of the dragons was dealt with they saw opportunities. Why have a human king when they were superior in every aspect to humans? This is when the Dragon Civil Wars began. On one side - the generals who wanted a Dragonborn for a ruler and on the other side - the ones who fought to protect the king and keep things as they were. Wars were fought, lives were lost but in the end the ones who sided with the current king won, leaving the rebels to rot in the ground and mud. Then it happened..

All the Dragonborn generals who aided the king against their brethren were summoned to join the festivities in the royal palace. They ate, they got drunk and then they were gifted a stab in the back. Each and every one of them died. Their families were hunted down and their children slaughtered in their cribs. However they did not manage to get all of them.
Undead Dragonborn - Said to have killed the skeletal dragons, which were practically immortal. No matter how many times they were struck down they always rebuilt themselves and got back up. There are no records on how the undead dragonborn managed to kill these seemingly immortal creatures. This bloodline turns the dragonborn into an undead creature over time. The flesh of their body starts to decay as days go by, in the end leaving only a rotten walking corpse without a soul and no emotion. They have the power to absorb the vitality of others to prolong their decaying and cannot be killed by normal means. In the end they become fully fledged abominations gaining a whole new set of skills.

AGE
37

EQUIPMENT
Wears light armor with a lightweight golden alloy chest piece, shoulder piece, forearm and leg plating and a cloak
A blade
Multiple throwing knives
Grappling Hook
Bow, Arrows and a quiver
Poison and antidote vials.
Smoke bombs/flash bombs

PERSONALITY
An assassin, a killer, a cold murderer. He is all those things as it is his job to be those things in order to serve humanity. You would think that someone in this line of work would be emotionless, cruel, or even a psychopath..and he might be but even if he is he doesn't show it. Outside the job he is cheerful up to the point of not being annoying, easy going and optimistic. That is a facade that he puts on, not for others more than for himself. Even if things are grim you strap a smile on your face and go on, even if there is no light in the end you shouldn't forget the part of you that was human, that small part that still is. If he loses himself in the darkness, what's to separate him from the monsters and demons that he hunts?

BIOGRAPHY
Not much to say for his upbringing as no one knows anything about him before he took the mantel of a hired knife. Slowly but surely he started gaining a reputation as the best and in just a couple of years of non stop contract killing he got to the top of his profession. That's where he was scouted by the army to fight against the Mad King. He was given coin and a constant stream of missions. He wasn't allowed to free lance anymore as the army could always need him at a moment's notice. Maybe to track and kill a spy that escaped with their battle plans? Hunt down an escaped prisoner? Assassinate high ranking officials of the Mad King's army? He did them all and even if his achievements aren't shared with the public, no one who knew him can say that he didn't help the forces of the living drastically. But in the end that didn't matter. Even if they were winning, no one could stand up to that hell spawned monstrosity that he later learned to be a dragon. But since that thing emerged something awoke in him. He felt...more distant, his emotions slipping away as were the bodily feelings like pain and pleasure. Something happened to him that day and now he isn't only fighting for the allies, he is fighting for himself, to preserve whatever humanity he has left.
To do that he needs to kill the Mad King and the Dragon residing in the Axiom Empire. He will find a way to end this once and for all.

MAGIC
Hunter's Eye - With a simple incantation he uses magic to enhance his vision thus allowing him to see at great distances, gain night vision and see through fog/smoke or dust.
Time Slow - He casts a spell which slows time for him, letting him better react to the dangers around him, take in the surroundings and have more time to process a plan. This has severe side effects depending on how much it is used within a short time period.

Strength = 5
Perception = 7
Endurance = 6
Charisma = 6
Intelligence = 7
Agility = 8
Luck = 1

[Gordoth]

Use @Bishop's Character sheet as an exemplary character sheet.

[Fetzen]

Vathalyk

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Appearance:

Vathalyk's skin is of a grey-ish complexion very much unlike that of human's. It's safe to say that his body is painted almost all over the place. It's not for war, but merely an abstract decoration in red and black hues. His ears are pointy and thus resembling those of your average elf, but shorter. His hair is long and split up into several massive strands running down almost to his hips. Vathalyk's most notable feature are his massive, spiraling horns and his ever-glowing, almondy eyes.

Vathalyk's a very massive being, standing over seven feet tall with shoulders broad enough to fill out the usual doorframe from left to right with ease. He's a hungry colossus of thick bone and muscle.

Race: Fyr

Gender: Male

Age: 22

Equipment:

• Somewhat worn-out piece of ringmail
• Large morning star
• Thick woolen coat and trousers.
• Food and water for several days.
• Two mechanical traps. Not like bear traps, but still they can deal excruciating pain and injury.

Personality:

It's comparatively easy to set off Vathalyk's rage. A simple insult, a word too ambiguous in an already heated up situation or an unintentional injury are enough to make him give you a rant at least. As long as you don't lose yourself in one of those sandtraps however and think before you speak it is quite possible though to get along with him rather nicely. Become true friends though is a major achievement for his species is essentially one of loners. He has a firm understanding of the concept of 'priorities': As long as he sees benefit for himself he is willing to help and bring sacrifices. What appears to be an extremely selfish attitude is attenuated by the fact that Fyr, due to their very nature-driven lifestyle, are less suspectible to greed, one of those things that usually impair one's providence the most. Vathalyk is somewhat cunning, but also capable of extreme acts of violence. There are times when he essentially goes feral.

Biography:

Fyr do not live in towns or villages, but dwell in the wilderness. Their population is very scarce, so neither is it very likely for anyone to encounter more than one at a time, nor is his kind interested in anything like 'family'. Parents stay together barely long enough to teach their child how to live on its own, then depart and continue living their lonely lives until, some years later, it is time to mate again. So due to natural causes, Vathalyk's childhood can be considered quite boring at least from more human standards: Hunting, eating, sleeping and roaming around for the sake of one's own curiosity.

His species is far from dumb and being purely animalistic, but still he has all reason to regret the day he dared to stroll though a village in the middle of the night: Isn't it that demons often have glowing eyes and massive horns ? Those simple people had never seen his kind before and confused him for one of them. With stakes and pitchforks at the ready they forced him to succumb and locked him away in a damp cellar. It took the damn priest months to come and once he told the confused villagers that there's nothing here requiring any kind of exorcism or divine assistance, Vathalyk had already acquired a grasp of the human language.

There was no compensation from the villagers whatsoever, but at least he had found sort of a friend with the priest. He was 19 and now they both had to be more careful than before -- neither could it be ruled out that Vathalyk would be captured anywhere else again, nor was a priest essentially telling an entire village that it was flat-out wrong prone to be very liked in a region where a word could spread fast. He felt obliged to be grateful and the priest felt there was someone in need of help -- or maybe the man just wanted to try something in his old days. Anyway, they continued to meet on a regular basis where no prying eyes were around. Vathalyk had the opportunity to learn more about human life and culture, improve his language skills and even pick up a minor proficiency in armed fighting.

It could have continued so well, but even his only real human friend probably couldn't stand the sudden fact that the gods... vanished. At least Vathalyk has not heard a word off him since the event and has solid reason to speculate that the old man has fallen. He just doesn't know if due to the onset of madness like many others or because of the shock itself.

Attributes:

• Strength: 10
• Perception: 5
• Endurance: 9
• Charisma: 2
• Intelligence: 5
• Agility: 4
• Luck: 5

Magic:

It's not a magical thing per se, but a Fyr's blood is known to be toxic. It is an aggressive agent towards a broad variety of body tissues, including those of humanoids and bacteria. Clearly the latter property is responsible for Vathalyk's resistance to many common diseases (though it does not protect against those of magic nature, of course), but self-injury in order to gain access to the large amount of venom carried around by every Fyr is a battle tactic not unheard of. Skin is quite resistive and will only show itching as the primary symptom, but exposing a body's interior to his blood is bound to cause massive trouble.

[Gordoth]

@Fetzen And with this you are ready to go, so jump into the IC section and start working!

[OrkytheOrc]

Hider

Name: Orky
Age: 25
Race: Orc
Sex: Male
Description: He is the typical Orc, large, green but not very mean. He stands aounr 6'7" and wieghing in about 294 pounds.
Has the classic Orc ears and has short hair. Not much else to say than other he is usually wearing his armor and carrying a book with MEMORIES crudly labled on it
Notable Belongings: His Orcish armor and Warhammer.
A small rugsck that he uses to carry his belongings in.
A book with MEMORIES written on it.
Backstory:
Orky was raised by a human woman after being dropped off at her doorstep. The woman having no children nor husband she gladly raised him
She taught him the ways how a proper person to ask and "The Golden Rule." Being an Orc he didnt have much intelligence wise to speak of but he was still capable of understanding feelings. Orky lived happily with his adopted mother back until about the age of 18 when some one started to kill the Gods. Of course this started to make the world go into a frenzy including where him and his mother lived. It was when a mob came outside the house demanding for Orky, because they somehow believed it was the Orcs fault. Orky's Mother told them to leave but they didnt budge. They started banging on the door when Orky's mother knew what to do. She gathered some things in a small rugsack for him then told him to go through the back window and run north. She also said keep running till you see a camp where there are people like you. Then the villagers busted down the door and Orky's yelled at him to go, of course never to disobey his mother he ran out the window and head north. He looked behind him a few minutes after running and saw a pillar of smoke in the distance.

It was about a few hours till Orky reached an Orcish settlement where there was an Orcish shaman waiting for him. When he had reached close enough the Warlock welcomed him and told Orky that his mother came along time ago asking for guidance on raising an Orc. Of course the Warlock gave her the information she needed but before she left the Warlock told her that to send him here when the World collapses and seems all is lost. Orky's mother agreed and went back to the still child Orky. After The Warlock finished informing Orky on the past, the Warlock brought him to his lair. He told Orky how he and some others would have an impact on the world and the course it takes in the future. The Warlock also said that he was going to train Orky on how to become a warrior and conquer his enemies. Orky agreed since he didnt have much else to do. So his training began, it has lasted for about 7 years till Orky was ready.

The Warlock had awarded Orky with Amour and a Warhammer befitting an Orc. He then sent him on his merry way and told him that fate will guide you on your path. So Orky left heading in some direction the wind was heading.

Stats-
Strength: 9
Perception: 5
Eendurance: 7
Charisma: 2
Intelligence: 3
Agility:2
Luck: 10

[Rockerman403]

Name: Aredis
Age: 27
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Description: A very dirty, sickly green looking man wth tattered clothing covered in brush and other vinery seeming to grow about his body. Tall and gaunt, with amber eyes. Long, unkempt black hair spilled down to his mid back. Fingernails overgrown and yellowed, chipped into crude looking claws. Always barefoot, feet practically blackened from having almost never worn any protection on his feet. Cuts covered the entirety of them, with the souls being defined calluses from years of walking among rough terrain. When walking, greenery sprouted among the footprints, yet seemed to last no longer than a moment before withering and dying. Features appear to be animalistic, yet of no specific animal. Eyes sometimes may appear different, or face may seem to resemble an elongated snout of a wolf. Yet when focusing it never appears to last. Almost as if through worship of primal gods of nature, he had taken on various shapes granted by those he worshipped. However with a loss of the God's power it only seemed he had power to retain forms for the briefest of instants, and that he was used to shifting forms fluidly as walking. However with the loss of his faith and his many deities, he has gone half mad it seems, and his behavior reflects it. Incoherent rambling, constant prophetic claims that seem no more likely than any other event. These claims are to taken very lightly.
Notable Belongings: Very few. A gnarled walking staff with the carving of a badger's snarling mouth atop it; a small rabbit skinned satchel poorly stitched together holding various herbs and plant life, a short knife at his hip made from Knapped obsidian with a deer antler handle and deer skin leather strap attached to it.
Backstory: (To be discussed with DM)
S-4
P-5
E-4
C-6
I-6
A-5
L-10

[FalloutJack]

Endrokin

Name: Endrokin
Alias: None
Age: Yes
Gender: Male
Species: Dragon
Occupation: That much varies, but some have humorously referred to him as a 'dragon dragoon'.
Residence: A mountain with its own hot spring inside of a cave.

S - 6
P - 6
E - 6
C - 4
I - 5
A - 8
L - 5

Physical Description: Use this as a basic reference.

You see this dragon man walking by and the first thing you notice - apart from the fact that he's a dragon - is that he is RIPPED. Under his attire, those gray scales of his are formed into the shape of an Olympian athlete. It's a taut form on this tall motherfucker, and it looks like he favors agility over strength, but he ain't lacking in either. Nothing particularly stand-out-ish about his body apart from that, though. Seems he looks after himself, even manages to keep relatively clean while living in the wild. His head has a rough-scale crest flanked by two thick-short horns that point back, and he has emerald-green eyes with rough, jagged iris slits. What you get the impression of - from the way he carries himself to the way he looks at you - that he is not simply man-sized dragon. He is a dragon walking as a man. More on this stuff later.

Personality: Ah yes...the mind of the dragon.

Endrokin is a fairly-straightforward sort of creature. He is generally blunt and vicious, and believes fully in the prowess and dignity of dragons to a fault. That fault is that he is Jingoistic. He finds other beings who are not of his kind to be...lesser. He doesn't automatically hate everything you are about, but you are not up to his standards, in general. You don't have the strength and endurance he has, you're not the warrior he is, and you don't have enough scales. Seriously, he is more concerned over a Kobold than a Human. It's just the way he sees things. And speaking of which, a number of his ways of thinking and modes of speech can be comparable to the popular Beast Wars character, Dinobot. He's a fighter, he's forceful, he can quip well and quip harshly, and of course...he has a temper. So, if you make a mistake when he's around, he will make you pay for it.

However, on top of all this, something else has been weighed upon his mind, and that is the splinters of history. The world is not known to him anymore. Things have changed, gone wrong. Those magic anomalies? They've caused him to have mental anomalies, thinking things are that aren't or never were, forgetting or just not knowing things that ARE and have always been. This world gone mad has done more than tear up the so-called tree of life, but uprooted it, and for him that has changed...much. He is not the dragon he was or necessarily will be, or at least he believes as much. What's in a belief now? He never prayed to any gods, but they were real enough. And now that they're gone...how much will remain real now?

Equipment/Cabilities: Things have changed in Endrokin, as things have changed in the world. He is a magic being, by nature, so...

Mythril Meld Armor - This full set of armor (no helmet) was once several items of notable quality. The abrupt tear from where he was to this place has caused a change, though. In place of many, there is one. The Mythril Meld is a sturdy piece of armor that has taken to pull free aether from the air to increase the return of spiritual energy after its use. The legs assist in jumping and other acrobatic maneuvers. The bracers accompany clawing and beating by hand with fire damage. Most of all, the draconic look of this armor has made it seem like second skin to Endrokin, meaning it does not inhibit him in action. It IS, however, sometimes susceptible to unstable magical fields.

Fang of All Ages - This is a special Adamantine Pole-Arm that was cast in a large and powerful forge with his own help to get it just right. Because the material it's composed of is more about being dense and armor-breaking than particularly magical, the energy fields did not alter it as it had his armor on the return trip. What trip? The trip that will be explained in History, of course. Still, this is just a well-balanced and highly-dangerous double-glaive weapon.

Runic Magic - As opposed to incantation, ki-manipulation, psyonics, or calling to your gods...Endrokin is practiced in certain types of rune inscription magic. That is, create the proper rune, charge it with energy, and make use of it as needed. His rune-based spells included Boosting/Lowering Traits, Detecting/Concealing Magic Auras, Environment Protection, and a Damage Field for people who touch him. The unstable magical fields will likely have some sort of effect on this, but it's difficult to predict. Like...someone might roll a die or something...

Dragon Form - We may have mentioned, but...Endrokin is a dragon. He's been walking around as a dragon MAN, but he is an actual DRAGON. It's all a long story about wars and god-level curses and so on, but the basic gist of it is that he can transform into a large flame-spewing winged dragon. Now, when he DOES, all of his items vanish and he cannot make use of them. This is a shame because his weapon is stronger than his teeth (in terms of density) and his armor is stronger than his scales. In certain ways, he's safer while in humanoid form. THIS form is for destruction and flying and overwhelming strength. Unstable magic fields can have strange effects on him, though, maybe unpredictable ones. Maybe they'll be good or maybe they'll be bad. It all depends. This was already brought about by the death of the gods, as is, so things might get weird...

History: A troubling time...

Things were different for him from the start. Endrokin's life was not as you'd expect, and here is why. He lived in a world that did not have big gigantic scaley dragons. They were people. And he did not live in a world of elves. They were dead, all of them. And the world? It had been at war for a thousand years. Endrokin was sometimes bounty hunter and sometimes mercenary. He'd seen his share of this war. He was raised for battle. He was made for conflict! However, he did not desire this war. His mentor - another dragon calling himself Rattigan Von Krauser - taught him to revel in victory, not mere chaotic bloodshed. All war must come to a purpose, to win! This war, however, was without end. At least, it had been...

That time was lost, though. You see, he and two others - Who were they? Who were they? - were put through a powerful act of Chronomancy, the alteration of time through the forces of magic. Sent back two years before the war began, Endrokin and the others embarked on a journey to change the course of history and prevent the war. However...here is where things get strange. Now, it IS possible for Chronomancy to exist, and a significantly powerful object may be used to conduit its effects onto others to send them back in time. At the point in which they went back, though, time split apart to many possibilities, allowing the world to be forever changed in so many ways.

Now, whatever your time theory is, the fact is that the world of the war became alterable or traversable to other worlds or futures, however you happen to look at it. As a result, the past Endrokin was in became connected to THIS future, or present. And because the death of the gods occurred - with dragons having been affected by a CURSE from the gods - when all magic went haywire, it reached back and SNAPPED him forwards, his curse shattering and affected all things magical that were on him at the time. The curse had been a punishment to all his kind for past acts of incredible brutality, but that had all changed now.

He emerged into the world, an unfamiliar world, changed. He was no longer limited to the humanoid form, but there was a drawback. The sudden travel forwards in time had caused his memory to fail him as he absorbed details from THIS world. It was like someone was writing all over the book of his life, splintering what he recognized and did not as surely as the curse itself was broken. Now, he half-knows this world and half does not. The only things he is sure of is that he will fight and survive and be the glorious creature of the ages that he has always been.

[Lady Selune]

Galdari Thornmyre

Name: Galdari Thornmyre
Age: 23
Race: Human
Sex: Female
Description: Once, not so long ago even, Galdari was a warm and smiling face. Homely, even, if one could ignore the muscles that were required of a warrior of the faith. Twinkling eyes and a slight ruddiness to her cheeks not brought about by alcohol, but by mirth. That was a week ago. Not to mention the fact that she was definitely eating well- plenty of muscle and fat alike on her bones. A lot has changed in a week however. Where once there was mass, already it is now horrifyingly skinny. Her long brown hair, once shiny and lustrous, is now half-shaved and sickly. The half of her head that wasn't shaved has been left long, leaving it to tumble down the bare side in a strange style.

Ideally, a paladin's armour should never be stained. Hers, even before the apocalypse arrived, was slightly dinged up and dirty, but now is truly showing wear. The plate is gouged and some of the chain links are busted, but much of it is still relatively shiny and clean. The nicest of her equipment still is her weapons- a one-handed axe and her circular shield. She clings to these like a drowning man does a piece of wood, the holy symbol once proudly displayed around her neck now hastily stuffed and concealed away.

Those same eyes that once twinkled so brightly have been turned into sunken messes. Her mind is fragmented- held together by the barest string of sanity, but still she perseveres. For what reason she does not know, but as long as she can hold her tools, she perseveres.

Notable Belongings:

• Dustbringer, a plough reforged into a once-holy axeblade. Now reflects Galdari’s mind, in that it’s jagged and not quite right. Still holds some magic.
• A shield made from the wood of a cart. Circular, bossed and sturdy. Nothing magical about it.
• Full plate. A simple, steel set of armour.
• Symbol of the Goddess of Farming.

Backstory: Every child born into a farming community knows that they live and die on the harvest. The goddess of the farm then, is one of the most important to almost every peasant evet to live. Galdari was the daughter of a miller- growing up on a diet that allowed her to pack on some weight, and with enough physicality that she could hold her own in an arm wrestle. Pious and relatively pure, she was signed on to her local temple when she was twelve, and served there faithfully.

At first, her duties were mundane and boring. Scrubbing the temple floors. Replacing the rushes. Then they got more complicated. She sharpened blades for the paladins, mended the tapestries on the walls and ferried meals to and fro about the temple. When she was sixteen, she took up the mantle of a paladin-in-training, a role that mostly required her to walk about a lot around fields and occasionally kill the odd wolf or bear that poached from the flocks.

Now however, the warrior is anything but holy. Without her goddess, she wanders lost, no faith to cling to or temple to fall back on. Anything, however, is better than staying home. She must press on.

SPECIAL
Strength: 8
Perception: 6
Endurance: 7
Charisma: 4
Intelligence: 5
Agility: 4
Luck: 6

[A Lowly Wretch]

Gangraena

Name: Gangraena.
Age: 12002.
Race: Undead(Human).
Sex: Female.
Description:

Truly a figure which most would dread to see coming at them. She stands at an even six foot tall and weighs a solid one hundred and ninety pounds though most wouldn't be able to tell since she looks like she weighs half that. Most would assume a warrior such as herself would have sizeable muscles but her body looks soft and feminine, at least the parts that remain. Given the fact she's animated with dark magic muscles are hardly necessary since biologically speaking she has no right to be moving at all, let alone with such strength.

Her skin is a blue tinged grey like that of a drowned corpse. Her body might be a bit less bloated than the average floater but she looks no less drowned. Her hair is a murky dark green, not unlike kelp. Her hair is straight albeit messy more often than not and cut just above her neckline. Her face while bearing some slender femininity is a bit rounder, a softer jawline with cheeks that are more full with a lower cheekbone that accentuates the eyes which... Well, require some explanation.

The sockets which once housed eyes are empty now. More than that the eyelids themselves are missing as well, leaving the eye sockets open up to the edges of the skull, leaving only the eyebrows. Inside the hollow apertures her eyes once occupied is a deep darkness, an abyss so black staring deeply into them can leave one's grip on sanity loosened. As though swimming in the shores of the fathomless darkness which appears to stretch on for eternity are two spheres of winding light in an unearthly yellow hue, one mote for each socket.

Her armor is no less imposing than herself despite it's piecemeal collection of parts. Her helmet is a large dark iron greathelm, concealing all but the intangible clots of yellow light that serve as her eyes which shine through the narrow eye slots. Her body armor was actually taken from a famed "Turtle Knight", a massive breastplate far too heavy for any average knight to use. It's plates are half an inch thick and curved in the shape of a turtle's shell, something most knights would find unmanageable but she doesn't seem to mind it's motion restrictive design and excessive mass. For shoulder protection she wears a large set of dark iron pauldrons. On her arms she wears dark iron gauntlets and vambraces. Her legs are protected with a set of gilded but scratched iron greaves complete with once elaborate cuisses that look like whatever designs they were embossed with has been smashed into a spangle of loose metal atop the plates. Her weapon is a large ship anchor which has been covered with more than few centuries worth of rust, wielded by the loop it's tied by. It's attached to a chain which is wrapped several times around her left arm which is her dominant arm.

Notable Belongings:

- Her anchor. Despite the endless years of rust the old makeshift weapon's thickness had ensured it's survival so far. It may be pocked and riddled with old barnacle shells but it still holds up to both the rigors of travel and the trials of combat. The chain attached to it's ring is a recent addition, the original one having broken apart deep below the waves quite a while ago.

- Her armor. A collection of borrowed pieces from foes she has slain. Some parts are even segments of armor that have been strapped or crudely nailed onto preexisting articles. She tends to show preference towards heavier, more protective gear.

Backstory:

In the beginning Gangraena was the daughter in the lineage of famous knights. Practically every single member of her family had gone on to serve in knighthood, most becoming the stuff of legends once they shuffle off their mortal coil. Man and women alike, there wasn't a single member of her family that didn't fight. She was strong yes but to call her slow witted would be an understatement. Even the wooden training dummies took quicker to learning the arts of combat than she did. Still, she eventually did learn a thing or two though her basic technique still basically boiled down to "Hit target real hard". When the time came she was knighted and sent forth on her very first mission. She was to sail across the Ondorss sea alongside a detachment of her fellow knights as well as a crew to man the ship. It was there they would reinforce a fort bordering barbarian lands.

Of course right in the middle of their voyage a terrible storm struck, overturning their ship and sending all aboard it off into the roiling waters.

Most of the sailors aboard the ship drowned that night but Gangraena's fate was chosen by a different force. As she drowned shadowy forces dragged her below, pulling her body well into the depths. Her form drifted in between the great oceanic crags and into the great tear in the earth's face below the waves.

So deep below she was pulled. She was dragged into depths which in ordinary circumstances would hold pressures too great for the soft bodies of most surface dwellers. This was no ordinary circumstance however, dark magic protecting her from the dangers of the deep until she was brought into a long forgotten temple which had sunk into the ocean ages ago. This mysterious entity took her into it's flooded halls and set her upon it's unearthly altar.

When she awoke everything was grey. Strange symbols littered the walls and statues of some olden ichthyoid deity were scattered about, some mostly intact and others not so much. Without any instruction or purpose she started to float about without direction. As she swam from the temple she was starting to float away so she grasped for something to hold onto. She managed to grab hold of the anchor which had fallen off her ship which was destroyed in the storm. With the anchor weighing her down she was able to set her feet on the ground and begin upon her long trek, dragging the anchor along behind her like it was some old oar.

_
From then on she simply walked. She had no direction to follow so she'd simply walk until she ran into something and then try to walk around that. This continued for thousands upon thousands of years. Though long as such a trek might be it could of been shorter but she had a terrible sense of direction and often wound up walking in circles for many years at a time. Sometimes she would fall into pits that could swallow mountains and occasionally she'd run into mountains that make those of the surface world seem pitifully small by comparison. Being a realm vastly larger than the surface land it's features often dwarfed those that appeared above

After such an unfathomably long time spent wandering the vast sea floor she eventually came upon a shore. Trudging up this deep sea creature of undeath continued along the sandy coast until she found a quaint little fishing village. At first they were terrified but after a while they came to accept that she meant no harm. She spent a fair amount of time among them, slowly learning their language and how to fish. Over the course of many generations she eventually got the hang of both.

Such was life until a humble mercenary company came through one day. They were a respectable bunch of warriors who needed a place to stay and restock their supplies. When they saw how strong Gangraena was they were thoroughly impressed. They offered her a place in their company if she wanted to fight alongside them. She accepted the offer and went along with them the day after. Since then she's fought many battles, now wielding her anchor as a tool of death rather than just an old keepsake. Over the years they'd lose men both to battle and to sickness. Eventually after a few bad bouts of combat the company was all but wiped out. It was just her and the captain who had suffered severe wounds in the end. He decided if he did survive his injuries he was just going to retire on what funds they had left. Thus Gangraena was the only remaining member of their company.

Since fighting was what she knew best she decided to just keep up what she'd been doing so far. She traveled the land now a lone mercenary, killing for coin to afford repairs on her armor. Then the cataclysm happened. Since the power she was bestowed rested within her it was almost as if nothing had changed. She felt no weaker and now there was more demand for mercenaries than ever before.

This is where her story begins.

Magic:

She's been reanimated by a dark, ancient power that calls her physical form home. As such there's a number of changes to her, some simply being facets of being undead and others brought upon her by the forgotten one's power.

Firstly as a member of the undead she no longer holds the needs of the living. She does not need to eat, sleep, drink or even breath. Diseases and poisons sit idle in her flesh for her blood had ran still long ago. She no longer experiences fatigue and can exert herself endlessly without fail. While she no longer feels pain nor the comforts of warmth she still holds a dim sense of touch.

She has no eyes of the tangible variety but she can see perfectly fine, not only in the light but also in the darkness no matter how tenebrous it may be. This comes at the cost of being able to see in color, leaving her only able to see in shades of grey. She no longer holds any sense of taste or smell either.

In addition to the traits of her undead are the dark gifts bestowed upon her. She holds a strength far greater than any mundane man or beast. The entirety of her body is connected by this strange power so that even if an arm, a leg or even her head is removed she can control them no less than when they were still attached to her. Not only does this long forgotten essence keep her flesh from rotting like some mere cadaver but it also protects her from the harsh tolls of the water. While the beasts of the sea once respected the pact that was made between the waters and her sunken benefactor that may have changed since the cataclysm. Where once no beast of the waters would prey upon her now only fate knows which water dwelling creature still respects their ancient oath.

Though sometimes a boon undeath carries a number of drawbacks as well. The most notable drawback is that as she is no longer alive her flesh does not knit together over time like the living do. While she may not decay every wound she receives never leaves her. Her only means of maintaining structural stability is to patch together the skin with thread and, in more severe cases, to nail metal braces to the bone.

Due to the nature of the power animating her any remaining magic derived from the gods of light and life will naturally react negatively when exposed to her dark essence. Necromancy however is especially effective on her given her undead state. This can be either a boon or a curse depending on the whims of the necromancer.

Strength = 10.
Perception = 3.
Endurance = 10.
Charisma = 5.
Intelligence = 2.
Agility = 2.
Luck = 8.