Oh, no problem! It's definitely better to have everyone in on the same conversation. :D And Gar's obsession with the sloth is adorable.
bluejay_gl Member
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Posted. (: For the record, an orc willingly sharing his given name is quite rare. Normally, warrior orcs will have a "battle name" in this situation. (I haven't yet decided what Kamnar's battle name should be, though.) Kamnar/Eltharion BroTP!
So it seemed that, after relating his capture to the Forest Thorn, there was someone willing to share in his indignation without judgment. The elf was clearly not the snooty, delicate character that many of Kamnar’s Orcish brethren would portray in their anecdotes; rather, he had a careful and world-worn air about him that only elves could have, given their lengthy lifespans. Perhaps Kamnar had misjudged him, and the elf’s persuasive words were merely a result of his life experience. He suggested that his outrage might best serve as fuel for their inevitable battles in the Arena. Kamnar found no reason to disagree, nodding respectfully.
Meanwhile, the Skytalon told his own gruesome story to the other passengers, involving the brutal use of bait and choking gas and ending with his wings being hacked off with a saw. He was treated more like a beast than a man; Kamnar listened sympathetically, unable to imagine what it must be like to lose one’s most important power, in the bird-man’s case, flight. He supposed it would be like him losing his ability to Berserk, though from his perspective, that would be more of a relief than a curse. Kamnar never liked his race’s most infamous strength, as it essentially separated the mind and body. For some orcs, such a thing is almost irrelevant, but for Kamnar, it meant losing control over what happened next, over himself – and after being thrown forcibly into his current situation, he no longer wanted to lose control.
Soon after, the elf spoke up once more, this time telling of his own capture. He described how he, as a distinguished commander, gave himself up to become a war prisoner in exchange for his soldiers’ lives, and how he was eventually sold to a lanista. Kamnar found himself oddly envious; the Forest Thorn’s enslavement was a result of an honorable sacrifice that saved the lives of those he cared for, whereas his own came only from wrongful bloodshed. After a few moments, he decided that his initial distrust for the elf was baseless; someone like this would make not only for an exceptional ally in the Arena, but also a genuine comrade outside of it. There was only one thing he could think to do in order to show his newfound trust.
“Kamnar Murug-kah,” he said meaningfully. “That is what I am called, but Kamnar is sufficient.”
Meanwhile, the Skytalon told his own gruesome story to the other passengers, involving the brutal use of bait and choking gas and ending with his wings being hacked off with a saw. He was treated more like a beast than a man; Kamnar listened sympathetically, unable to imagine what it must be like to lose one’s most important power, in the bird-man’s case, flight. He supposed it would be like him losing his ability to Berserk, though from his perspective, that would be more of a relief than a curse. Kamnar never liked his race’s most infamous strength, as it essentially separated the mind and body. For some orcs, such a thing is almost irrelevant, but for Kamnar, it meant losing control over what happened next, over himself – and after being thrown forcibly into his current situation, he no longer wanted to lose control.
Soon after, the elf spoke up once more, this time telling of his own capture. He described how he, as a distinguished commander, gave himself up to become a war prisoner in exchange for his soldiers’ lives, and how he was eventually sold to a lanista. Kamnar found himself oddly envious; the Forest Thorn’s enslavement was a result of an honorable sacrifice that saved the lives of those he cared for, whereas his own came only from wrongful bloodshed. After a few moments, he decided that his initial distrust for the elf was baseless; someone like this would make not only for an exceptional ally in the Arena, but also a genuine comrade outside of it. There was only one thing he could think to do in order to show his newfound trust.
“Kamnar Murug-kah,” he said meaningfully. “That is what I am called, but Kamnar is sufficient.”
@Kho, I'm so glad I'm not the only one that feels that way!
@Harbringer, I like this roleplay because it doesn't feel "railroaded" like a lot of roleplays I've experienced do. I feel like there's a lot of room for crazy side stories and epic exploration. Because eventually we're all gonna get out of this godforsaken Arena and travel Arkreides as a daring adventuring party, AMIRITE?
@Harbringer, I like this roleplay because it doesn't feel "railroaded" like a lot of roleplays I've experienced do. I feel like there's a lot of room for crazy side stories and epic exploration. Because eventually we're all gonna get out of this godforsaken Arena and travel Arkreides as a daring adventuring party, AMIRITE?
Got my post up. Didn't think Kamnar was quite ready to share Durak Bol-gar's name or the Lok'krith's name just yet; he's still got some warming up to do, haha. (:
Kamnar listened to the bizarre duo, the beastman and the human child, speak in Common with mysterious elegance, and he got the impression that they shared a unique bond despite holding different views. He was a bit startled by the bear-man’s appearance, as he had not, in all his travels throughout Arkreides, seen such a being; though as he thought about it, he did remember hearing stories of unusually peaceful, bear-like creatures from the older orc warriors in his clan.
As they finished their brief speeches, all of the slaves began to board the lanista’s embellished wooden carriage one by one. Kamnar followed them, striding past the resentful male elf and ascending the ramp of the cart. The lanista, smirking, went to the front and seated himself by the driver. He and his purchased slaves were finally prepared to make their destined journey to the Arena.
*****
At first, it was a fairly quiet cart ride, despite its unusual array of passengers, the only noises being the squeaking wooden wheels and the benches’ chains clanging from movement. The rising sun shone intermittently through the barred windows, one particularly bright ray hitting Kamnar directly in his eyes. No matter; he didn’t think he’d be able to get any rest regardless. No sooner than that thought had passed through his mind did he notice the same platinum-haired elf as before nodding off onto the bear-man’s furred arm. He watched, amused, as the beast allowed him to nap in silence. Kamnar then saw the sickly Skytalon seated nearby, the one that had greeted him aboard the Ludus-bound barge; he gave him a soft smile, which the bird-man returned enthusiastically. Suddenly, he lurched forward with a nasty cough, which woke the drowsy Elven slave with a start. Kamnar observed the argument between the Thunderhoof and the elf with some interest; what caught his eye specifically was the way the Forest Thorn instigated the bull beastman with ease. Though the beastman seemed the short-tempered type in the first place, it seemed that the elf had some practice in manipulation, and he promised himself to be wary of him in the future.
The elven male, looking around at all of them with a genial smile, proceeded to ask aloud how they had come to be here. He used an elven word, Serons – though Kamnar did not remember its exact meaning, he recognized it as a respectful one from his past dealings with elves. Despite the nagging distrust in the back of his mind, he thought it would be best to get to know these people and perhaps make allies; after all, it would be much easier to lay low in the Arena if they all had some mutual understanding. He also appreciated the fact that the elf was the one to bring up the subject; if it had been himself, there might have been much fewer fighters interested in sharing their stories with an orc. Kamnar leaned forward and indulged his tale to those who listened, his fingers interlocking to prevent his hands from shaking with anger; this was the first time he ever said these truths out loud, and it was like reliving his hell all over again.
“I was a high-ranking paladin of Hel-brok’thar, serving my god, Pra’Flakor. On a mission to convert a small black orc tribe, I was accused of the murder of a local tribesman by my own fellow knight. The tribesman’s family attacked me and I –“ Kamnar paused furiously, biting his lip – “I killed them all to defend myself. As it turned out, that paladin had hired a lanista to frame me, and I was arrested and sold into slavery. He got to keep his knighthood while I ended up… here.”
A bitter smile worked its way onto his face as he spoke. Four innocent orcs dead, and one guilty orc still alive and serving in his esteemed position… Surely Pra’Flakor did not will this? And if he had, for what purpose? These questions ran through his mind for the thousandth time since his capture; Kamnar was forced to consider the possibility that there was no god to protect him from what awaited him in the Arena…
As they finished their brief speeches, all of the slaves began to board the lanista’s embellished wooden carriage one by one. Kamnar followed them, striding past the resentful male elf and ascending the ramp of the cart. The lanista, smirking, went to the front and seated himself by the driver. He and his purchased slaves were finally prepared to make their destined journey to the Arena.
*****
At first, it was a fairly quiet cart ride, despite its unusual array of passengers, the only noises being the squeaking wooden wheels and the benches’ chains clanging from movement. The rising sun shone intermittently through the barred windows, one particularly bright ray hitting Kamnar directly in his eyes. No matter; he didn’t think he’d be able to get any rest regardless. No sooner than that thought had passed through his mind did he notice the same platinum-haired elf as before nodding off onto the bear-man’s furred arm. He watched, amused, as the beast allowed him to nap in silence. Kamnar then saw the sickly Skytalon seated nearby, the one that had greeted him aboard the Ludus-bound barge; he gave him a soft smile, which the bird-man returned enthusiastically. Suddenly, he lurched forward with a nasty cough, which woke the drowsy Elven slave with a start. Kamnar observed the argument between the Thunderhoof and the elf with some interest; what caught his eye specifically was the way the Forest Thorn instigated the bull beastman with ease. Though the beastman seemed the short-tempered type in the first place, it seemed that the elf had some practice in manipulation, and he promised himself to be wary of him in the future.
The elven male, looking around at all of them with a genial smile, proceeded to ask aloud how they had come to be here. He used an elven word, Serons – though Kamnar did not remember its exact meaning, he recognized it as a respectful one from his past dealings with elves. Despite the nagging distrust in the back of his mind, he thought it would be best to get to know these people and perhaps make allies; after all, it would be much easier to lay low in the Arena if they all had some mutual understanding. He also appreciated the fact that the elf was the one to bring up the subject; if it had been himself, there might have been much fewer fighters interested in sharing their stories with an orc. Kamnar leaned forward and indulged his tale to those who listened, his fingers interlocking to prevent his hands from shaking with anger; this was the first time he ever said these truths out loud, and it was like reliving his hell all over again.
“I was a high-ranking paladin of Hel-brok’thar, serving my god, Pra’Flakor. On a mission to convert a small black orc tribe, I was accused of the murder of a local tribesman by my own fellow knight. The tribesman’s family attacked me and I –“ Kamnar paused furiously, biting his lip – “I killed them all to defend myself. As it turned out, that paladin had hired a lanista to frame me, and I was arrested and sold into slavery. He got to keep his knighthood while I ended up… here.”
A bitter smile worked its way onto his face as he spoke. Four innocent orcs dead, and one guilty orc still alive and serving in his esteemed position… Surely Pra’Flakor did not will this? And if he had, for what purpose? These questions ran through his mind for the thousandth time since his capture; Kamnar was forced to consider the possibility that there was no god to protect him from what awaited him in the Arena…
Really excited by your new IC post, @Harbringer. I'll start writing mine stat! (:
Haha, the imagery is hilarious! And gives me some serious PTSD from a game I couldn't beat called 1001 Spikes. shudder
Snapping up with a speed that would have put a spike wall trap to shame
Haha, the imagery is hilarious! And gives me some serious PTSD from a game I couldn't beat called 1001 Spikes. shudder
@Kho, Gar is awesome! I can't wait to have Kamnar interact with him! (:
You could make a new Interest Check. I can help advertise too, if you want. (: I'm pretty invested in this RP, so if I can do anything to get more people, let me know.
@Harbringer Oh yes, he's absolutely screwed. xD
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