Say, folks, I'm really interested in this, but I notice there's no application template. Where do I apply?
Bazmund
Member
Not a Doctor
STATUS: Back at the guild after a long absence. Much changed since I was gone? 7 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 1 yr ago
- Joined: 8 yrs ago
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Back at the guild after a long absence. Much changed since I was gone?
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Bio
Medical student living in Scotland, a lover of beer and steak mostly - but also writing, and politics. Because why not make myself even more divisive.
Most Recent Posts
@VKAllen
True, but that wasn't in the spirit of getting more money out of him - the guy had cheated Geralt first. Moro is, on the other hand, a genuinely fiscally immoral man.
@NecroKnight
Well in that case I hope I did your precedent for them justice. I do think that, given the feels you've given them, they'd be antagonistic of one of their own using the signs to get more money out of their contracts. I actually think it's against the Witcher code anyway, as Geralt never gets an opportunity to do it in the games either, as far as I'm aware.
We could totally have some minor character conflict, if you like. Our characters are close enough in age that they could have known each other, whilst they were both still at the Manticore school.
Well in that case I hope I did your precedent for them justice. I do think that, given the feels you've given them, they'd be antagonistic of one of their own using the signs to get more money out of their contracts. I actually think it's against the Witcher code anyway, as Geralt never gets an opportunity to do it in the games either, as far as I'm aware.
We could totally have some minor character conflict, if you like. Our characters are close enough in age that they could have known each other, whilst they were both still at the Manticore school.
Moro the Muddler had arrived in the village in the early hours of the morning, having taken one of several contracts on monsters in the area around it. He'd heard the rumours about spell slinging Sylvans and overly aggressive Spriggans, but didn't put much stock in them - after all, rumours are as rumours do, and rarely does a rumour meet reality.
However, as it turned out something rather odd was happening.
A creature reminiscent of an Ekkimara, surrounded it seemed by a small score of other Witchers, was demanding its sacrifice. This would not normally have been terribly strange, for a Witcher - but Ekkimara are not capable of speech, and do not make demands. This was, instead, a Fleder.
And not once had the Muddler ever fought a higher vampire.
Briefly, he wondered if Axii might have an effect on them.
The answer was 'probably not, and don't try it.'
"And why does a higher vampire lust after the blood of children? Don't you know that adults have more of the stuff?" He questioned innocently, casually drawing his silver sword as he approached the site of the soon-to-be battle, and surreptitiously cast Quen on himself.
However, as it turned out something rather odd was happening.
A creature reminiscent of an Ekkimara, surrounded it seemed by a small score of other Witchers, was demanding its sacrifice. This would not normally have been terribly strange, for a Witcher - but Ekkimara are not capable of speech, and do not make demands. This was, instead, a Fleder.
And not once had the Muddler ever fought a higher vampire.
Briefly, he wondered if Axii might have an effect on them.
The answer was 'probably not, and don't try it.'
"And why does a higher vampire lust after the blood of children? Don't you know that adults have more of the stuff?" He questioned innocently, casually drawing his silver sword as he approached the site of the soon-to-be battle, and surreptitiously cast Quen on himself.
Alright guys, I'm stuck. How do I get my character introduced to the current plot?
In
SCP: Survive The Night (Currently not accepting any more Applications at this time)
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Well alright - though I don't know about our characters being the same. They're both criminals, and that's where the similarities end.
Name: Moro the Muddler
Age: 140 years, 5 months, and six days as of the last time he saw a calendar.
Appearance:
Race: Human Witcher
School: School of the Manticore - however, he is heavily distanced from that school now.
Bio: Moro the Muddler was - as is easily surmised - not always known as Moro the Muddler. Before he was inducted into the strange, quasi-religious Manticore School as a child, he was known as Tirimet Kadgadursen, and he was the son of a moderately successful caravan owner, trading silk from Zerrikania. He had no head for business, though his mathematics was slightly above average and his reading more than sufficient, and he was easily distracted from the education his parents were trying to provide for him - but ultimately, that doesn't matter. They were killed in a raid on their caravan when he was 5, and staying home from the trip on his father's orders, to study for an exam.
Shortly thereafter, he set about wandering the city to kill his boredom, and it was in this vein of things that he stumbled upon a Witcher, deep in meditation. The Witcher, known then as Josef of Velen, awoke to find the boy sitting in front of him and - beguiled by a charm that Tirimet would quickly lose as he grew up - decided to take him in.
Throughout his training, Tirimet became known for above average but ultimately unremarkable swordsmanship, a complete inability to aim with a crossbow, his tendency to make potions that worked perfectly fine, but somehow all tasted like ghoul piss... and his stunning proficiency with Signs.
In particular, with axii.
After the trial of the grasses, which Tirimet passed adequately, he set out into the world to do business as a Witcher.
Only, as aforementioned... he has a horrible head for business.
In fact, having lost much of his persuasiveness during the grueling training of a witcher, Tirimet's greatest reknown was very rapidly gained for his subtle use of the Axii sign during fee negotiations - and indeed, in general life. The Manticore school saw this as dishonorable and soon became apprehensive of having him connected to their name, considering it edging towards breaching the Witcher's Code. So they cut him loose.
"Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, your use of the abilities granted to you by merit of being a Witcher is nothing short of dishonorable. To prevent the sullying of our noble name, we henceforth consider you an outcast of this school." They told him, having brought him before their elders in cuffs, stripped of his weapons.
"To redeem the dishonor you have dirtied yourself and your brothers with, you shall also drop the name granted to you by this school. From this day until the last you live to see, you will be known no longer as Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, nor as Tirimet Kadgadursen."
"And what am I to be known as in their stead?" He had spat through clenched teeth, and white knuckles.
The Elders had scowled at him.
"The Old Zerrikanian word for 'Trickster' is 'Moro' - and enough of the locals have taken to calling you 'the Muddler' that the rest of it should be obvious to you."
Few alive today - outside of the School of the Manticore - learn to speak Old Zerrikanian. Those that can understand it are usually magical in nature, whether they are witchers or not.
But the purpose was not to have it be known to all, the purpose was to have it be known to whom it concerned, and Moro the Muddler's muddling ways concerned mostly his fellow witchers, should they ever meet him again.
To fast forward from there, Moro the Muddler is now one of the best traveled, and more experienced Witchers in the land. His use of signs is, as ever, world class, and it makes him a valuable asset indeed to those who can afford him. But dishonorable as he may be considered, Moro the Muddler still keeps mostly to the Witcher Code - and does not speak as much as he used to.
Personality: Mostly a straight sort of man, Moro does not usually joke about things - and when he does it is often in poor taste. Instead, he prefers to be more somber than most, and consider what he sees before he acts upon it. He still uses Axii too much, but is coming to realise that the life it will lead him to is an exceptionally lonely one - especially since his reliance on it managed to lose him the woman he loved.
Weapons: One zerrikanian steel sword, gently curved from hilt to tip for additional slashing capability - as the expense of thrusting capability, and balance. It's a weapon almost unrivaled for cleaving and dismemberment, but it relies heavily on the chained style of the Manticore school - or a mount - to be fully effective.
One custom made silver sword - smithed roughly in the style of the Manticore school, but an imperfect copy that would never be identified as based on that design, excepting by a Manticore witcher themself. Though not all manticore witcher swords are curved, this one is, to best complement the chained fighting style he's grown used to.
Family/relationships?: No family - they were all killed in the caravan raid that orphaned him. However, there is still one sorceress in this world that he once loved. There is no guarantee she still feels the same way, however.
Other: Moro's potions really do taste like ghoul piss, but he was taught the recipe for zerrikanian fire - an explosive compound - during his Witcher training, and could theoretically replicate it with local ingredients outside of Zerrikania. However, efficacy is not guaranteed when not following the original formula.
Age: 140 years, 5 months, and six days as of the last time he saw a calendar.
Appearance:
Race: Human Witcher
School: School of the Manticore - however, he is heavily distanced from that school now.
Bio: Moro the Muddler was - as is easily surmised - not always known as Moro the Muddler. Before he was inducted into the strange, quasi-religious Manticore School as a child, he was known as Tirimet Kadgadursen, and he was the son of a moderately successful caravan owner, trading silk from Zerrikania. He had no head for business, though his mathematics was slightly above average and his reading more than sufficient, and he was easily distracted from the education his parents were trying to provide for him - but ultimately, that doesn't matter. They were killed in a raid on their caravan when he was 5, and staying home from the trip on his father's orders, to study for an exam.
Shortly thereafter, he set about wandering the city to kill his boredom, and it was in this vein of things that he stumbled upon a Witcher, deep in meditation. The Witcher, known then as Josef of Velen, awoke to find the boy sitting in front of him and - beguiled by a charm that Tirimet would quickly lose as he grew up - decided to take him in.
Throughout his training, Tirimet became known for above average but ultimately unremarkable swordsmanship, a complete inability to aim with a crossbow, his tendency to make potions that worked perfectly fine, but somehow all tasted like ghoul piss... and his stunning proficiency with Signs.
In particular, with axii.
After the trial of the grasses, which Tirimet passed adequately, he set out into the world to do business as a Witcher.
Only, as aforementioned... he has a horrible head for business.
In fact, having lost much of his persuasiveness during the grueling training of a witcher, Tirimet's greatest reknown was very rapidly gained for his subtle use of the Axii sign during fee negotiations - and indeed, in general life. The Manticore school saw this as dishonorable and soon became apprehensive of having him connected to their name, considering it edging towards breaching the Witcher's Code. So they cut him loose.
"Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, your use of the abilities granted to you by merit of being a Witcher is nothing short of dishonorable. To prevent the sullying of our noble name, we henceforth consider you an outcast of this school." They told him, having brought him before their elders in cuffs, stripped of his weapons.
"To redeem the dishonor you have dirtied yourself and your brothers with, you shall also drop the name granted to you by this school. From this day until the last you live to see, you will be known no longer as Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, nor as Tirimet Kadgadursen."
"And what am I to be known as in their stead?" He had spat through clenched teeth, and white knuckles.
The Elders had scowled at him.
"The Old Zerrikanian word for 'Trickster' is 'Moro' - and enough of the locals have taken to calling you 'the Muddler' that the rest of it should be obvious to you."
Few alive today - outside of the School of the Manticore - learn to speak Old Zerrikanian. Those that can understand it are usually magical in nature, whether they are witchers or not.
But the purpose was not to have it be known to all, the purpose was to have it be known to whom it concerned, and Moro the Muddler's muddling ways concerned mostly his fellow witchers, should they ever meet him again.
To fast forward from there, Moro the Muddler is now one of the best traveled, and more experienced Witchers in the land. His use of signs is, as ever, world class, and it makes him a valuable asset indeed to those who can afford him. But dishonorable as he may be considered, Moro the Muddler still keeps mostly to the Witcher Code - and does not speak as much as he used to.
Personality: Mostly a straight sort of man, Moro does not usually joke about things - and when he does it is often in poor taste. Instead, he prefers to be more somber than most, and consider what he sees before he acts upon it. He still uses Axii too much, but is coming to realise that the life it will lead him to is an exceptionally lonely one - especially since his reliance on it managed to lose him the woman he loved.
Weapons: One zerrikanian steel sword, gently curved from hilt to tip for additional slashing capability - as the expense of thrusting capability, and balance. It's a weapon almost unrivaled for cleaving and dismemberment, but it relies heavily on the chained style of the Manticore school - or a mount - to be fully effective.
One custom made silver sword - smithed roughly in the style of the Manticore school, but an imperfect copy that would never be identified as based on that design, excepting by a Manticore witcher themself. Though not all manticore witcher swords are curved, this one is, to best complement the chained fighting style he's grown used to.
Family/relationships?: No family - they were all killed in the caravan raid that orphaned him. However, there is still one sorceress in this world that he once loved. There is no guarantee she still feels the same way, however.
Other: Moro's potions really do taste like ghoul piss, but he was taught the recipe for zerrikanian fire - an explosive compound - during his Witcher training, and could theoretically replicate it with local ingredients outside of Zerrikania. However, efficacy is not guaranteed when not following the original formula.
In
SCP: Survive The Night (Currently not accepting any more Applications at this time)
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Appearance:
Name: Aaron Bosch
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Personnel Classification: D-class personnel.
Personality: An aggressive, angry, brute of a man, Aaron Bosch has earned his reputation as a violent career criminal - one of the best, at that. He does not care for mercy, he does not care for reprieve, what he cares about is respect and manners. He's not exactly unpredictable, and the man is very clearly sane - instead he thinks about things more in a businesslike manner, the way he did as a gangster in east London. Ultimately, though, his actions have collectively taken their toll on him - and his age has forced him to wonder what else he could have been, and what he might still be. Though he is not a sentimental person, he now leans more towards it than he did before, and is unlikely to seek a violent answer first.
Likes: Beer, meat, and bread. He also likes reading intellectual magazines, and broadsheet newspapers - the Economist, and The Guardian are two of his favourites. Beyond that, he likes to know what's what in the world, and does not see himself on a small scale, but as an individual directly effected by the decisions of the world around him.
Dislikes: Bad beer, rotten meat, and stale bread. Really, food that's gone bad is a pet peeve of his, as it's just more wastage, and he's never been good about wasting food. Also dislikes people who follow blindly - except when he's doing the leading - and anyone who has anything to do with the police.
Skills: A masterful, brutal pugilist, with fantastic physical strength and resilience to back it up. Aside from unarmed combat, Bosch is fully proficient with various police truncheons and batons, and all sorts of knives. He's also more experienced with firearms than any Englishman should be, and he's a pretty good cook.
Biography: Aaron Bosch has never not been a criminal. His father was a london gangster, and his grandfather- actually, his grandfather made clocks for a living, but that's beside the point. From the day he could hold a switchblade, he owned two. From the moment he realised money was good to have, he was figuring out ways to steal it, rob it, and keep ahold of it. The boy was a surefire career criminal, and sod all could change that. He was smart, analytical, and just creative enough to be one step ahead of anyone chasing him.
But until the Heathrow job, he was nothing but a small time knife punk.
Approximately 12 million pounds sterling, in the form of gold bullion, some rare jewellery, and politically sensitive information, all in one big heist. It was a crime that would cement him as one of the greatest in recent British history - and also brand him a murderer.
Six policemen, two members of the spiritual descendants of the notorious Flying Squad, and three civilians, all dead. Not all by his hand - but as the ringleader, he was as good as guilty for them all.
And it was hardly his last job.
As much as thirty years later, he was still one of the biggest names in British crime, even if he was on his way out. In fact, he had his retirement all planned and everything - one last job to make him a legend, and secure the occupation for his boys.
See, the problem was that this last job was a night raid on one of the SCP foundations lower level facilities. He and his men went in expecting to find basic security, and something embarassing about a senator, to use for blackmail.
They... did not find that.
Less than an hour later, half the gang had been eaten, dissolved, or transported somewhere else in spacetime by sentient ostriches. The other half was already being issues amnestics and jumpsuits.
Name: Aaron Bosch
Age: 56
Gender: Male
Personnel Classification: D-class personnel.
Personality: An aggressive, angry, brute of a man, Aaron Bosch has earned his reputation as a violent career criminal - one of the best, at that. He does not care for mercy, he does not care for reprieve, what he cares about is respect and manners. He's not exactly unpredictable, and the man is very clearly sane - instead he thinks about things more in a businesslike manner, the way he did as a gangster in east London. Ultimately, though, his actions have collectively taken their toll on him - and his age has forced him to wonder what else he could have been, and what he might still be. Though he is not a sentimental person, he now leans more towards it than he did before, and is unlikely to seek a violent answer first.
Likes: Beer, meat, and bread. He also likes reading intellectual magazines, and broadsheet newspapers - the Economist, and The Guardian are two of his favourites. Beyond that, he likes to know what's what in the world, and does not see himself on a small scale, but as an individual directly effected by the decisions of the world around him.
Dislikes: Bad beer, rotten meat, and stale bread. Really, food that's gone bad is a pet peeve of his, as it's just more wastage, and he's never been good about wasting food. Also dislikes people who follow blindly - except when he's doing the leading - and anyone who has anything to do with the police.
Skills: A masterful, brutal pugilist, with fantastic physical strength and resilience to back it up. Aside from unarmed combat, Bosch is fully proficient with various police truncheons and batons, and all sorts of knives. He's also more experienced with firearms than any Englishman should be, and he's a pretty good cook.
Biography: Aaron Bosch has never not been a criminal. His father was a london gangster, and his grandfather- actually, his grandfather made clocks for a living, but that's beside the point. From the day he could hold a switchblade, he owned two. From the moment he realised money was good to have, he was figuring out ways to steal it, rob it, and keep ahold of it. The boy was a surefire career criminal, and sod all could change that. He was smart, analytical, and just creative enough to be one step ahead of anyone chasing him.
But until the Heathrow job, he was nothing but a small time knife punk.
Approximately 12 million pounds sterling, in the form of gold bullion, some rare jewellery, and politically sensitive information, all in one big heist. It was a crime that would cement him as one of the greatest in recent British history - and also brand him a murderer.
Six policemen, two members of the spiritual descendants of the notorious Flying Squad, and three civilians, all dead. Not all by his hand - but as the ringleader, he was as good as guilty for them all.
And it was hardly his last job.
As much as thirty years later, he was still one of the biggest names in British crime, even if he was on his way out. In fact, he had his retirement all planned and everything - one last job to make him a legend, and secure the occupation for his boys.
See, the problem was that this last job was a night raid on one of the SCP foundations lower level facilities. He and his men went in expecting to find basic security, and something embarassing about a senator, to use for blackmail.
They... did not find that.
Less than an hour later, half the gang had been eaten, dissolved, or transported somewhere else in spacetime by sentient ostriches. The other half was already being issues amnestics and jumpsuits.
You guys still going at it?
Name: Moro the Muddler
Age: 140 years, 5 months, and six days as of the last time he saw a calendar.
Appearance:
Race: Human Witcher
School: School of the Manticore - however, he is heavily distanced from that school now.
Bio: Moro the Muddler was - as is easily surmised - not always known as Moro the Muddler. Before he was inducted into the strange, quasi-religious Manticore School as a child, he was known as Tirimet Kadgadursen, and he was the son of a moderately successful caravan owner, trading silk from Zerrikania. He had no head for business, though his mathematics was slightly above average and his reading more than sufficient, and he was easily distracted from the education his parents were trying to provide for him - but ultimately, that doesn't matter. They were killed in a raid on their caravan when he was 5, and staying home from the trip on his father's orders, to study for an exam.
Shortly thereafter, he set about wandering the city to kill his boredom, and it was in this vein of things that he stumbled upon a Witcher, deep in meditation. The Witcher, known then as Josef of Velen, awoke to find the boy sitting in front of him and - beguiled by a charm that Tirimet would quickly lose as he grew up - decided to take him in.
Throughout his training, Tirimet became known for above average but ultimately unremarkable swordsmanship, a complete inability to aim with a crossbow, his tendency to make potions that worked perfectly fine, but somehow all tasted like ghoul piss... and his stunning proficiency with Signs.
In particular, with axii.
After the trial of the grasses, which Tirimet passed adequately, he set out into the world to do business as a Witcher.
Only, as aforementioned... he has a horrible head for business.
In fact, having lost much of his persuasiveness during the grueling training of a witcher, Tirimet's greatest reknown was very rapidly gained for his subtle use of the Axii sign during fee negotiations - and indeed, in general life. The Manticore school saw this as dishonorable and soon became apprehensive of having him connected to their name, considering it edging towards breaching the Witcher's Code. So they cut him loose.
"Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, your use of the abilities granted to you by merit of being a Witcher is nothing short of dishonorable. To prevent the sullying of our noble name, we henceforth consider you an outcast of this school." They told him, having brought him before their elders in cuffs, stripped of his weapons.
"To redeem the dishonor you have dirtied yourself and your brothers with, you shall also drop the name granted to you by this school. From this day until the last you live to see, you will be known no longer as Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, nor as Tirimet Kadgadursen."
"And what am I to be known as in their stead?" He had spat through clenched teeth, and white knuckles.
The Elders had scowled at him.
"The Old Zerrikanian word for 'Trickster' is 'Moro' - and enough of the locals have taken to calling you 'the Muddler' that the rest of it should be obvious to you."
Few alive today - outside of the School of the Manticore - learn to speak Old Zerrikanian. Those that can understand it are usually magical in nature, whether they are witchers or not.
But the purpose was not to have it be known to all, the purpose was to have it be known to whom it concerned, and Moro the Muddler's muddling ways concerned mostly his fellow witchers, should they ever meet him again.
To fast forward from there, Moro the Muddler is now one of the best traveled, and more experienced Witchers in the land. His use of signs is, as ever, world class, and it makes him a valuable asset indeed to those who can afford him. But dishonorable as he may be considered, Moro the Muddler still keeps mostly to the Witcher Code - and does not speak as much as he used to.
Personality: Mostly a straight sort of man, Moro does not usually joke about things - and when he does it is often in poor taste. Instead, he prefers to be more somber than most, and consider what he sees before he acts upon it. He still uses Axii too much, but is coming to realise that the life it will lead him to is an exceptionally lonely one - especially since his reliance on it managed to lose him the woman he loved.
Weapons: One zerrikanian steel sword, gently curved from hilt to tip for additional slashing capability - as the expense of thrusting capability, and balance. It's a weapon almost unrivaled for cleaving and dismemberment, but it relies heavily on the chained style of the Manticore school - or a mount - to be fully effective.
One custom made silver sword - smithed roughly in the style of the Manticore school, but an imperfect copy that would never be identified as based on that design, excepting by a Manticore witcher themself. Though not all manticore witcher swords are curved, this one is, to best complement the chained fighting style he's grown used to.
Family/relationships?: No family - they were all killed in the caravan raid that orphaned him. However, there is still one sorceress in this world that he once loved. There is no guarantee she still feels the same way, however.
Other: Moro's potions really do taste like ghoul piss, but he was taught the recipe for zerrikanian fire - an explosive compound - during his Witcher training, and could theoretically replicate it with local ingredients outside of Zerrikania. However, efficacy is not guaranteed when not following the original formula.
Name: Moro the Muddler
Age: 140 years, 5 months, and six days as of the last time he saw a calendar.
Appearance:
Race: Human Witcher
School: School of the Manticore - however, he is heavily distanced from that school now.
Bio: Moro the Muddler was - as is easily surmised - not always known as Moro the Muddler. Before he was inducted into the strange, quasi-religious Manticore School as a child, he was known as Tirimet Kadgadursen, and he was the son of a moderately successful caravan owner, trading silk from Zerrikania. He had no head for business, though his mathematics was slightly above average and his reading more than sufficient, and he was easily distracted from the education his parents were trying to provide for him - but ultimately, that doesn't matter. They were killed in a raid on their caravan when he was 5, and staying home from the trip on his father's orders, to study for an exam.
Shortly thereafter, he set about wandering the city to kill his boredom, and it was in this vein of things that he stumbled upon a Witcher, deep in meditation. The Witcher, known then as Josef of Velen, awoke to find the boy sitting in front of him and - beguiled by a charm that Tirimet would quickly lose as he grew up - decided to take him in.
Throughout his training, Tirimet became known for above average but ultimately unremarkable swordsmanship, a complete inability to aim with a crossbow, his tendency to make potions that worked perfectly fine, but somehow all tasted like ghoul piss... and his stunning proficiency with Signs.
In particular, with axii.
After the trial of the grasses, which Tirimet passed adequately, he set out into the world to do business as a Witcher.
Only, as aforementioned... he has a horrible head for business.
In fact, having lost much of his persuasiveness during the grueling training of a witcher, Tirimet's greatest reknown was very rapidly gained for his subtle use of the Axii sign during fee negotiations - and indeed, in general life. The Manticore school saw this as dishonorable and soon became apprehensive of having him connected to their name, considering it edging towards breaching the Witcher's Code. So they cut him loose.
"Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, your use of the abilities granted to you by merit of being a Witcher is nothing short of dishonorable. To prevent the sullying of our noble name, we henceforth consider you an outcast of this school." They told him, having brought him before their elders in cuffs, stripped of his weapons.
"To redeem the dishonor you have dirtied yourself and your brothers with, you shall also drop the name granted to you by this school. From this day until the last you live to see, you will be known no longer as Tirimet of the Dragon's Pass, nor as Tirimet Kadgadursen."
"And what am I to be known as in their stead?" He had spat through clenched teeth, and white knuckles.
The Elders had scowled at him.
"The Old Zerrikanian word for 'Trickster' is 'Moro' - and enough of the locals have taken to calling you 'the Muddler' that the rest of it should be obvious to you."
Few alive today - outside of the School of the Manticore - learn to speak Old Zerrikanian. Those that can understand it are usually magical in nature, whether they are witchers or not.
But the purpose was not to have it be known to all, the purpose was to have it be known to whom it concerned, and Moro the Muddler's muddling ways concerned mostly his fellow witchers, should they ever meet him again.
To fast forward from there, Moro the Muddler is now one of the best traveled, and more experienced Witchers in the land. His use of signs is, as ever, world class, and it makes him a valuable asset indeed to those who can afford him. But dishonorable as he may be considered, Moro the Muddler still keeps mostly to the Witcher Code - and does not speak as much as he used to.
Personality: Mostly a straight sort of man, Moro does not usually joke about things - and when he does it is often in poor taste. Instead, he prefers to be more somber than most, and consider what he sees before he acts upon it. He still uses Axii too much, but is coming to realise that the life it will lead him to is an exceptionally lonely one - especially since his reliance on it managed to lose him the woman he loved.
Weapons: One zerrikanian steel sword, gently curved from hilt to tip for additional slashing capability - as the expense of thrusting capability, and balance. It's a weapon almost unrivaled for cleaving and dismemberment, but it relies heavily on the chained style of the Manticore school - or a mount - to be fully effective.
One custom made silver sword - smithed roughly in the style of the Manticore school, but an imperfect copy that would never be identified as based on that design, excepting by a Manticore witcher themself. Though not all manticore witcher swords are curved, this one is, to best complement the chained fighting style he's grown used to.
Family/relationships?: No family - they were all killed in the caravan raid that orphaned him. However, there is still one sorceress in this world that he once loved. There is no guarantee she still feels the same way, however.
Other: Moro's potions really do taste like ghoul piss, but he was taught the recipe for zerrikanian fire - an explosive compound - during his Witcher training, and could theoretically replicate it with local ingredients outside of Zerrikania. However, efficacy is not guaranteed when not following the original formula.
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