Beach Burrito

Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi - an Orcish saga

@Flagg I get the feeling Xozu would have at some point thrown a handful of powder at Half-face to see if it killed him, then muttered something about half an orc counting for more than a whole elf...

Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi - an Orcish saga

Xozu Ten-Braid

Name: Xozu Ten-Braid
Age: 73
Sex: Female
Breed: Full Blooded

Appearance: Xozu is a she-orc withered with power, as gnarled and aged as knotted oak. Slow of foot and weak of arm a weathered pike supports her, shorn down to a more wieldy stature and bindled with occult reagents. Stooped under the weight of bygone years this ancient crone exists in a near mummified state, her wrinkled skin stretched taut across a reedy frame. A sharp, spiteful gaze denies her frailty, the strong will that sustains her spilling from eye like a fire too large for its hearth. True to her namesake ten braids twine together from the base of her skull to the small of her back, each a keepsake of a trophy kill.

Skills/Abilities:

- Ritual Magic: Unlike a mage or a sorcerer--which channel arcane forces or have inborn talent respectively--Xozu is of entirely mundane stock. As an occultist her power stems from finding where the veil between this world and the next is at its weakest and 'reaching through' to imbue a fetish or totem with magic. Unlike a true enchanter her creations are expended with use and purpose made with this in mind.
- Mythkeeper: Few orcs possess such longevity and fewer still preside over as vast a trove of knowledge. In her resides nearly a century of oral history, ancient tradition and mindful superstition; much of it won firsthand.
- Revered and Reviled: Ten-Braid has something of an emboldening presence on the rank and file, most of it due to the rumors and exaggerations that circulate about her. Doubly so among the small cult that's cropped up around her. Unfortunately this same reputation runs before her, with many elves swearing vengeance upon her--and by extension the company as a whole.
- Keen Observer: A life spent peering through the fragile bonds between this world and the next unsurprisingly bestows on one the ability to ken more mundane faults; be they in things or people. In other words she can direct vandalism with all the pedigree of a conductor and his orchestra.
-

Equipment:

-
- A Shadowless Spear - First adopted during the obligatory stint among the pikes all of Radush's band must endure it has been trimmed down to size and seen more use as a walking stick than weapon. While whatever witchcraft she's worked over it remains a mystery a decided lack of shadow silently attests to withheld power.
- Elf Leathers - Simple fine grain leather robes replete with deep pockets and short, fur cuffed sleeves. Of note however these well traveled vestments weren't made by elves, but rather of them--a distinction Xozu is proud to disclose.
- Bag of Tricks - Because each fetish and talisman must be prepared ahead of time much of what she brings to battle has been prepared in bulk: man-killing powder, bone fairies and the like. This usually means Xozu only ever has a handful of specialized items each engagement, fashioned with a particular foe or obstacle in mind.
-

History:

If her claims are to be believed Xozu was once a simple cotter born to a sparsely peopled tribe, their ever thinner fyrd providing little protection from raids or rustlers. Forced to migrate frequently and eke out a meager existence in the shadow of greater powers they inevitably fled further into the wilds, unwittingly trespassing upon elven glades. The retribution meted out to Xozu and her kin was pitiless, scalped and slain down to the last whimpering babe. Assumed for dead she awoke heaped amid the bloody wreckage of her tribe, carted as unceremoniously as refuse beyond the unmarked borders they'd blundered into. With nothing but the sun-ripened flesh of her former kith to feed her convalescence she lay broken and brooding among them, forced with each bitter mouthful to choke back the accompanying shame. It stripped her of herself, the mending orcess reduced to a solemn vow to repay this evil in kind.

Years were spent preparing in the feted swamp where she'd been dumped, honing herself as a hunter and fixating on the vengeance that was to come. This obsession focused her, anchored her against the madness isolation so often invites. In time this drew a 'presence' to her, and Xozu's true aptitudes were revealed. In the end her efforts were crude, clumsy and almost the death of her but she'd walked away with the first of her ten braids, its owner given a death many times more gruesome than that which was handed down to her own. So it was she set out to plague the same isolated settlements to which she'd once belonged, culling elven bloodlines that had existed unchallenged for centuries. As her expertise grew so too did her boldness, deigning to target beloved and respected adversaries, which--when it comes to knife ears--usually meant mages and druids. Unfortunately by her tenth braid she'd fallen victim to an admittedly brilliant countermeasure.

No matter how hard or long she sought Xozu could no longer uncover her elven quarry. It wasn't long before it dawned on her she'd fallen under the sway of a powerful curse and that those responsible were perfectly willing and entirely able to just wait her out--knowing orcs are rarely long for this world. As a matter of principle she devoted herself to staving off the inevitable, reasoning that a longer life meant more opportunities to do them the harm they so richly disserved. Thus she became the hag she is today, the winter of her life uneventful save for the infrequent assassin or lost traveler to cross her path. Were it not for a faithful meeting with a certain warlord and a Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi in its infancy there she'd of remained.

Radush, wishing to strengthen his company sought to persuade the swamp witch but was flatly refused. Ten-braid would not subordinate herself, feeling there was nothing to be learned or gained in his service. So it was that the warlord challenged her, stabbing a finger towards the nearby copse. A bargain was struck wherein they would see who could gather the most wood, a task she saw no way to fail. No matter how mighty Radush claimed to be this was her home and a tree was already prepared, it would be felled at a touch and she would win just as easily. Obviously, she was mistaken, for although her own efforts went to plan the warlord bested her without so much as swinging an axe, draining the smugness from her as he took a length of rope and circled the copse oak to oak. "What's this foolishness?" she'd asked, only to be rendered speechless by his reply "“I’m not going to put each and every tree on my shoulder. I’ll just circle the whole forest, pull up all the trees, and have my boys carry them home."

She's been wearing his colors ever since.

Personality and Psychological profile:

Xozu has elevated hating elves to an art form, unrivaled when it comes to the sheer, all consuming intensity with which she plots their painful decimation. All elves must die and all traces of their people be expunged, that is absolutely not up for debate. Any conversation one might strike up with her eventually comes around to this point and it's hard to expect less from an orc that's spent the bulk of her life hunting, torturing, killing, and eating any elves she came across then wearing their remains. Beyond this she's a racial and personal supremacist, vocal supporter of orcish purity and insufferably aware she know a great deal more than most of her kind. She detests small talk and pleasure seeking, is cruel for cruelty's sake and petty to an absolute fault. Xozu will lie, cheat and steal (In fact she prefers to), sees honor as a handicap the weak would have the strong impose upon themselves and constantly underestimates the other chosen.

Relationships and Acquaintances:

WIP

Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi - an Orcish saga

If there's no objections I'm going to add Xozu to the character tab and work out her opinions on the other characters

Character looks good, and I want to avoid a huge amount of sorcery as we start to work out how precisely to blend that in without breaking the RP's themes.

Hey Seuss

No worries on the magic. I purposefully made her so that she wouldn't have anything on hand conventional weapons couldn't do just as well. Any time I prepare something ahead of time I plan to get the okay via PM first.

Swords & Septims: Adventures in Tamriel (The Elder Scrolls)

I'll be throwing out a CS tomorrow night. The basic concept being a Khajiit prostitute/pickpocket that talked her way onto the team thanks to her phenomenal people skills.

Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi - an Orcish saga

Here's a CS to mull over!

Xozu Ten-Braid

Name: Xozu Ten-Braid
Age: 73
Sex: Female
Breed: Full Blooded

Appearance: Xozu is a she-orc withered with power, as gnarled and aged as knotted oak. Slow of foot and weak of arm a weathered pike supports her, shorn down to a more wieldy stature and bindled with occult reagents. Stooped under the weight of bygone years this ancient crone exists in a near mummified state, her wrinkled skin stretched taut across a reedy frame. A sharp, spiteful gaze denies her frailty, the strong will that sustains her spilling from eye like a fire too large for its hearth. True to her namesake ten braids twine together from the base of her skull to the small of her back, each a keepsake of a trophy kill.

Skills/Abilities:

- Ritual Magic: Unlike a mage or a sorcerer--which channel arcane forces or have inborn talent respectively--Xozu is of entirely mundane stock. As an occultist her power stems from finding where the veil between this world and the next is at its weakest and 'reaching through' to imbue a fetish or totem with magic. Unlike a true enchanter her creations are expended with use and purpose made with this in mind.
- Mythkeeper: Few orcs possess such longevity and fewer still preside over as vast a trove of knowledge. In her resides nearly a century of oral history, ancient tradition and mindful superstition; much of it won firsthand.
- Revered and Reviled: Ten-Braid has something of an emboldening presence on the rank and file, most of it due to the rumors and exaggerations that circulate about her. Doubly so among the small cult that's cropped up around her. Unfortunately this same reputation runs before her, with many elves swearing vengeance upon her--and by extension the company as a whole.
- Keen Observer: A life spent peering through the fragile bonds between this world and the next unsurprisingly bestows on one the ability to ken more mundane faults; be they in things or people. In other words she can direct vandalism with all the pedigree of a conductor and his orchestra.
-

Equipment:

-
- A Shadowless Spear - First adopted during the obligatory stint among the pikes all of Radush's band must endure it has been trimmed down to size and seen more use as a walking stick than weapon. While whatever witchcraft she's worked over it remains a mystery a decided lack of shadow silently attests to withheld power.
- Elf Leathers - Simple fine grain leather robes replete with deep pockets and short, fur cuffed sleeves. Of note however these well traveled vestments weren't made by elves, but rather of them--a distinction Xozu is proud to disclose.
- Bag of Tricks - Because each fetish and talisman must be prepared ahead of time much of what she brings to battle has been prepared in bulk: man-killing powder, bone fairies and the like. This usually means Xozu only ever has a handful of specialized items each engagement, fashioned with a particular foe or obstacle in mind.
-

History:

If her claims are to be believed Xozu was once a simple cotter born to a sparsely peopled tribe, their ever thinner fyrd providing little protection from raids or rustlers. Forced to migrate frequently and eke out a meager existence in the shadow of greater powers they inevitably fled further into the wilds, unwittingly trespassing upon elven glades. The retribution meted out to Xozu and her kin was pitiless, scalped and slain down to the last whimpering babe. Assumed for dead she awoke heaped amid the bloody wreckage of her tribe, carted as unceremoniously as refuse beyond the unmarked borders they'd blundered into. With nothing but the sun-ripened flesh of her former kith to feed her convalescence she lay broken and brooding among them, forced with each bitter mouthful to choke back the accompanying shame. It stripped her of herself, the mending orcess reduced to a solemn vow to repay this evil in kind.

Years were spent preparing in the feted swamp where she'd been dumped, honing herself as a hunter and fixating on the vengeance that was to come. This obsession focused her, anchored her against the madness isolation so often invites. In time this drew a 'presence' to her, and Xozu's true aptitudes were revealed. In the end her efforts were crude, clumsy and almost the death of her but she'd walked away with the first of her ten braids, its owner given a death many times more gruesome than that which was handed down to her own. So it was she set out to plague the same isolated settlements to which she'd once belonged, culling elven bloodlines that had existed unchallenged for centuries. As her expertise grew so too did her boldness, deigning to target beloved and respected adversaries, which--when it comes to knife ears--usually meant mages and druids. Unfortunately by her tenth braid she'd fallen victim to an admittedly brilliant countermeasure.

No matter how hard or long she sought Xozu could no longer uncover her elven quarry. It wasn't long before it dawned on her she'd fallen under the sway of a powerful curse and that those responsible were perfectly willing and entirely able to just wait her out--knowing orcs are rarely long for this world. As a matter of principle she devoted herself to staving off the inevitable, reasoning that a longer life meant more opportunities to do them the harm they so richly disserved. Thus she became the hag she is today, the winter of her life uneventful save for the infrequent assassin or lost traveler to cross her path. Were it not for a faithful meeting with a certain warlord and a Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi in its infancy there she'd of remained.

Radush, wishing to strengthen his company sought to persuade the swamp witch but was flatly refused. Ten-braid would not subordinate herself, feeling there was nothing to be learned or gained in his service. So it was that the warlord challenged her, stabbing a finger towards the nearby copse. A bargain was struck wherein they would see who could gather the most wood, a task she saw no way to fail. No matter how mighty Radush claimed to be this was her home and a tree was already prepared, it would be felled at a touch and she would win just as easily. Obviously, she was mistaken, for although her own efforts went to plan the warlord bested her without so much as swinging an axe, draining the smugness from her as he took a length of rope and circled the copse oak to oak. "What's this foolishness?" she'd asked, only to be rendered speechless by his reply "“I’m not going to put each and every tree on my shoulder. I’ll just circle the whole forest, pull up all the trees, and have my boys carry them home."

She's been wearing his colors ever since.

Personality and Psychological profile:

Xozu has elevated hating elves to an art form, unrivaled when it comes to the sheer, all consuming intensity with which she plots their painful decimation. All elves must die and all traces of their people be expunged, that is absolutely not up for debate. Any conversation one might strike up with her eventually comes around to this point and it's hard to expect less from an orc that's spent the bulk of her life hunting, torturing, killing, and eating any elves she came across then wearing their remains. Beyond this she's a racial and personal supremacist, vocal supporter of orcish purity and insufferably aware she know a great deal more than most of her kind. She detests small talk and pleasure seeking, is cruel for cruelty's sake and petty to an absolute fault. Xozu will lie, cheat and steal (In fact she prefers to), sees honor as a handicap the weak would have the strong impose upon themselves and constantly underestimates the other chosen.

Relationships and Acquaintances:

WIP

Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi - an Orcish saga

Well, if they're "elite warriors, scouts and specialist fighters as well as a reserve for when things get rough in a fight...chosen for their prowess and ability to follow orders." I think that 'Chosen' is a good name for them.

Essentially I think the were elevated from (I.E. chosen) the pikes, spikes, blades, wargs or even camp as exceptional members of the company. During a battle they might not be fighting shoulder to shoulder--but their efforts would be in tandem, if not solely for the fact they're part of the fighting company.

As for field tactics devolving--it's important to note that in a large scale battle victory probably depends more on the 760-so soldiers and 450-odd camp orcs supplying them that our handful of heroes. The chosen probably work to keep morale, reinforce the faltering and engage in special operations.

Probably Radush's unofficial retinue of bodyguards too...as well as a rogue's gallery of those most willing and able to supplant him in a moment of weakness.

Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi - Orcish Mercenaries

The only situation that stains a mercenary company's reputation is not obeying the contract. If the contract says to commit genocide, you commit genocide so hard Hitler would be proud. Refraining from committing said atrocity is what will stain your reputation.

Hank

I actually agree completely with this. What separates soldiers from mercenaries most is usually pay, since those with no obligation to take up a cause need more convincing to die for it. If you're footing the bill you want results--especially if you're desperate enough to bet a battle on a bunch of subhumans. And just to remind everyone the intro states that even though they've never been trusted to play a pivotal part of a battle/campaign the company has earned a 'nefarious and unique reputation' just from the fact that they're orcs with enough discipline to form a free company.

And there's been no mention of the whole 'for honor' mindset. Discipline, loyalty, brutality and violence get mentioned plenty though--makes me think orcs might get on more like a pack of wargs than fighting men. A culture of dominance--further illustrated by the "Everyone starts in the pikes" and "Don't care who you were before you were one of us" bits.

Personally I'm going to play my orc like they've got a 'dog brain', meaning that even if they're not at the top of the heap they're happy to 'know there place' and keep those above them on their toes with the occasional feeling out.

Nar Mat Kordh-Ishi - Orcish Mercenaries

What if we combine both suggestions? Siege carried out when an employer stiffs us after we deliver said claimant (The one in need of rescue) When the castle falls the would-be King/Queen makes a plea for their life and freedom by way of a job offer--We've already given one hell of an audition by this point.

Also, glad to see this back from the old boards. Had a bit of a suggestion, if you're fine with us bouncing ideas off of you. What if the older an orc gets the darker green their skin turns? Just a small bit of character I remember reading somewhere else as lore, there could even be associated slang (Dark boys as veterans, 'ripe' being used to say something's matured.) Worth thinking about I think.

Shadowrun - The Sound and the Fury (Snow Crash Inspired)

Posted. Sorry for its brevity, I just wasn't comfortable 'resolving' the shoot-out on my own. Instead I tried to give terminal an opportunity to do something cool (Assuming a troll or two are cybered) as well as playing off Azeth's past post. Also did my level best to deteriorate the situation to the point where Cath can catch a stray round if popular opinion is to write her out at this juncture.

Shadowrun - The Sound and the Fury (Snow Crash Inspired)

Kali surged through the doors into a pelting of blind fire, those that had pursued her making a token effort to keep the runner penned in as they surveyed the skirmish erupting on their flank; the telltale clap of a pressure wave weakening their resolve. It was clear Kyuzo's theatrics had them rattled, he'd turned what should have been a numbers game into something more cerebral: Those slow descending clouds of off white powder played havoc with visibility--meaning indiscriminate fire ran the risk of thinning their numbers further--a problem only exasperated by the second shooter being distinctly of the ork persuasion. Put simply this was an engagement the rent-a-thugs weren't equipped to fight, and that fact was slowly dawning on them. All it would take is a single, well-timed assault where their weakest to break them, force a tidy surrender. Sadly, no one has ever accused Kali of being clever.

If she'd had some prepared remark it wasn't there when her mouth opened, instead letting loose with a damning warcry; it would have been less trouble to just shout "Shoot me" as she rushed the walkway. Not that it had mattered, stimmed as she was Kali had turned the mouth of the corridor into a wood chipper, putting the magic in her hands to good use. Fan. Trade. Load. Fan. It was like watching a human metronome the way she worked her extra arms, or at least it would be were there an opportunity to poke out from behind cover. Fact of the matter was she wasn't just out pacing the handguns pointed her way but was going tit for ratta-tat-tat with what the Trolls were toting, shots coming too close together to count. With a trail of spent casings still cooling behind her Kali overran the choke point, all four revolvers waiting the greet the pair of orks callow enough not to abandon their position. No less than twenty eight muzzle flashes illuminated the now gruesome twosome, being the woman she was those bullets walked their way up from lap level.

Clubbing what could only be described as the ever loving shit out of what was quite clearly a corpse the ex-thrill criminal (And that was a very soft 'ex') edged her way closer to a full on murdergasm; heaving the bodies over rail more in the hopes of making a mess than hitting anyone. At the sight of this the remaining gunman silently reached consensus.

Then they began to fire indiscriminately