Capra

...

Perfect then. I already have an idea for my...thing, can't wait to see the first OOC.

STONES

Said, and done.

STONES

Rurik opens his eyes wide, gasping for air, still feeling an icy shiver running across his flesh. Looking around, the Varangian warrior finds himself lying flat on his back, a ray of light piercing his eyes from above and hindering his sight, noises ringing in his ears. His whole body aching, Rurik struggles to get up, pain radiating from the places where the arrows had pierced his flesh, now cicatrized, and coughs, his throat filled with dust, before finally managing to get on his feet. At this point, Rurik is firmly convinced that he is indeed still in the land of the living, and that the peculiar situation he finds himself in is not the result of an interesting night spent at the Drakkar, Holmgarðr's finest tavern. Probably.

The Varyag warrior looks around, touching his Mjǫllnir pendant, and finds himself indeed at the bottom of a dusty earthen pit, a ray of light coming from above, as well as strange noises. His armor looks worn and threadbare, his axe and shield are lying in the dirt, and as Rurik ties his large round shield to his back and picks up his greataxe, he begins to wonder exactly where in Hel he is, and how did he get there. Perhaps the Komi saved him from the river, and took him as prisoner? Impossible, they don't take prisoners, and if they did, they wouldn't have left him his weapon. Someone else, then, saved him? Once again, impossible: if a good hearted man had rescued him, he would have woken up in a bed, not at the bottom of a pit. Rurik grunts and spits on the floor, the waves of pain still running across his muscles and nerves now more bearable, and slowly begins to climb his way out, the dusty earth crumbling beneath his hands and feet as he conquers inch after inch, using his axe as a pick to drag himself towards the light, muttering profanities in Old Norse, as the noises above him become recognizable as voices, screaming and talking in a confused manner. After almost falling down a couple of times, the Varyag swings upwards his axe, and feels it gripping the flat surface along the boundary of the pit, and, clenching his teeth, pulls himself up, his left arm finally appearing from below, followed by his head; Rurik looks around, and realizes that he ought to stop frequenting the Drakkar.

STONES

NAME: Rurik
Valhall awaits me,
When I die!

ABSTRACT:
A veteran Varangian warrior on a quest to find adventure, women, loot, and access to Valhalla, in that order.

WEAPONS AND EQUIPMENT:
Armor of the Allfather: an old, tattered and torn leather, fur and mail armor, covered in runic inscriptions and prayers to Óðinn: it is quite heavy, built to resist the bite of metal and cold alike. Rurik created it across the years, often patching pieces from the armors worn by enemies and friends.

Varangian Greatshield: this crude but sturdy wooden round shield, reinforced with iron, has been used by Rurik during many of his battles. Given to him when he first entered the Varangian Guard, the shield still bears the guard's insigna, a black raven, although now it is quite faded.

Berserker's Greataxe: gifted to him by the dying, wounded leader of his company when Rurik was serving in the Guard, this greataxe has bitten the flesh of dozens of enemies, and is Rurik's most loyal companion. Very heavy, it requires uncommon strenght to even swing it properly, but when in the hands of a Varangian warrior it can chop down trees, doors, and men alike.

Mjǫllnir Pendant: a small iron pendant, worn by Rurik at all times, shaped like the hammer of the Thunder God, Þórr. It has no practical purpose, but Rurik is firmly convinced that it's an amulet blessed by the gods.

DETAIL:
Raise a stone for all to see, runes carved to my memory!

Born from a Slavic mother and a Norse father, Rurik spent the first years of his life in the Varangian city of Holmgarðr, on the cold shores of the Baltic Sea. Trained to warfare since his childhood, at the young age of nineteen Rurik joined a group of his peers, on a journey to Miklagarðr, to join the famed Varangian guard. While serving the Roman Emperor, Rurik fought on many battlefields across the Mediterranean: from the warm, sun-kissed isles of the Aegean, to the torrid oceans of sand of Serkland, to the rocky mountains of Anatolia, Rurik was there, in the midst of the fray, under a hail of arrows, slaying enemies left and right with his battleaxe. A devout worshipper of the ancient gods of his people, Rurik, screaming the name of Óðinn, led many fearless charges into the enemy lines, eager to find glory, or Valhalla.

After five years spent serving the emperor of Miklagarðr, Rurik finally returned home, now no longer a boy, but a veteran carrying the scars of many battles. After that day, Rurik started to work as a mercenary for the many Varangian princes and lords of Garðaríki, and, when not fighting, entertaining a number of hobbies such as drunken brawling, drinking contests, and throwing himself between the arms of the nearest wench, all activities in which Rurik displayed an incredible talent, even superior to his martial prowess. One chilly winter day, Rurik was on a ship slowly sliding along the course of the Volga river, when suddendly, a quick hissing sound was heard in the air. Out of nowhere, arrows and spears began to rain from the sky and the snowy banks of the river, and the savage Komi began their attack. Immediately, Rurik grabbed his axe and his shield to attack the indigenous raiders, before feeling a piercing, warm sensation in his abdomen. As he yanked the arrow from his flesh, another bit his chest, and before Rurik could remove it as well, he saw his blood pouring all over the wooden planks of the longship, and he fell down as the Komi were jumping on the Varangian ship, his consciousness fading away.

The only thing he felt next was a cold, gelid, wet shiver across his body, gripping his flesh and bones. The river's icy embrace had taken him, and as he prepared to meet his end with a smile on his face, ready to greet the valkyries, he once again fell unconscious.

When Rurik woke up again, the first thing he understood was that he was far, far away from home, and the second one was that the place didn't really look like Valhalla...

STONES

At the moment, I can't say, since I'm not really informed about what's been happening in the IC. If you want me to, I shall read the last things that have happened and offer my opinion, but anyway the way Rurik enters the scene doesn't especially matter to me.

STONES

Well, I actually think I'm going to prefer playing as Rurik, since Orion was conceived as a magician.

Besides, it's been a long time since I last played as a Viking...

STONES

NAME: Rurik
Valhall awaits me,
When I die!

ABSTRACT:
A veteran Varangian warrior on a quest to find adventure, women, loot, and access to Valhalla, in that order.

WEAPONS AND EQUIPMENT:
Armor of the Allfather: an old, tattered and torn leather, fur and mail armor, covered in runic inscriptions and prayers to Óðinn: it is quite heavy, built to resist the bite of metal and cold alike. Rurik created it across the years, often patching pieces from the armors worn by enemies and friends.

Varangian Greatshield: this crude but sturdy wooden round shield, reinforced with iron, has been used by Rurik during many of his battles. Given to him when he first entered the Varangian Guard, the shield still bears the guard's insigna, a black raven, although now it is quite faded.

Berserker's Greataxe: gifted to him by the dying, wounded leader of his company when Rurik was serving in the Guard, this greataxe has bitten the flesh of dozens of enemies, and is Rurik's most loyal companion. Very heavy, it requires uncommon strenght to even swing it properly, but when in the hands of a Varangian warrior it can chop down trees, doors, and men alike.

Mjölnir Pendant: a small iron pendant, worn by Rurik at all times, shaped like the hammer of the Thunder God, Þórr. It has no practical purpose, but Rurik is firmly convinced that it's an amulet blessed by the gods.

DETAIL:
Raise a stone for all to see, runes carved to my memory!

Born from a Slavic mother and a Norse father, Rurik spent the first years of his life in the Varangian city of Holmgarðr, on the cold shores of the Baltic Sea. Trained to warfare since his childhood, at the young age of nineteen Rurik joined a group of his peers, on a journey to Miklagarðr, to join the famed Varangian guard. While serving the Roman Emperor, Rurik fought on many battlefields across the Mediterranean: from the warm, sun-kissed isles of the Aegean, to the torrid oceans of sand of Serkland, to the rocky mountains of Anatolia, Rurik was there, in the midst of the fray, under a hail of arrows, slaying enemies left and right with his battleaxe. A devout worshipper of the ancient gods of his people, Rurik, screaming the name of Óðinn, led many fearless charges into the enemy lines, eager to find glory, or Valhalla.

After five years spent serving the emperor of Miklagarðr, Rurik finally returned home, now no longer a boy, but a veteran carrying the scars of many battles. After that day, Rurik started to work as a mercenary for the many Varangian princes and lords of Garðaríki, and, when not fighting, entertaining a number of hobbies such as drunken brawling, drinking contests, and throwing himself between the arms of the nearest wench, all activities in which Rurik displayed an incredible talent, even superior to his martial prowess. One chilly winter day, Rurik was on a ship slowly sliding along the course of the Volga river, when suddendly, a quick hissing sound was heard in the air. Out of nowhere, arrows and spears began to rain from the sky and the snowy banks of the river, and the savage Komi began their attack. Immediately, Rurik grabbed his axe and his shield to attack the indigenous raiders, before feeling a piercing, warm sensation in his abdomen. As he yanked the arrow from his flesh, another bit his chest, and before Rurik could remove it as well, he saw his blood pouring all over the wooden planks of the longship, and he fell down as the Komi were jumping on the Varangian ship, his consciousness fading away.

The only thing he felt next was a cold, gelid, wet shiver across his body, gripping his flesh and bones. The river's icy embrace had taken him, and as he prepared to meet his end with a smile on his face, ready to greet the valkyries, he once again fell unconscious.

When Rurik woke up again, the first thing he understood was that he was far, far away from home, and the second one was that the place didn't really look like Valhalla...

STONES

Hmm, I see, sorry for that. I'll be making another char soon.

STONES

Wizard Knight Orion

Wizard Knight Orion
It's all in your head.




_{Orion, without his armor}

Name: Orion, the Everwandering.

Age: ?

Height: 1,92 m

Weight: 98 kg

Class: Spellsword

Race: Human

Description: an old man with long, hoary hair, a well-kept beard, and light blue eyes, Orion stands taller than most men, and despite his face has been rugged by the years, his gaze reveals a mind as sharp as few. Pleasant to discuss with, his calm and fatherly behavior is fully expressed by his deep voice, often interrupting to allow him to draw a hit from his long wooden pipe, one of his two most loyal companions. Along with his armor, he is usually cloaked by a blue mantle, and covers his head with a hood or large wizard hat of the same colour. He is always closely followed by his other companion, Vox, his owl, often standing on the pauldron of his armor, which he also rarely leaves. Another prized possession of his are his many bags, backpacks and pouches, containing either seeds, dried leaves, roots, strange powders, and other such items, or strange trinkets and artifacts of varying utility, everything from a chemist's alembics to curious little items of unknown make.

Weapons and Equipment:

Runic Armor: a heavy and bulky plate armor, decorated and carved with numerous magical symbols and seals. One piece at the time, over the years this armor was forged by Orion himself through arcane means, and bears the signs of his many battles.

Seal of the Arcana: an ancient round greatshield, adorned with gleaming runes and seals of power. The shield was found in a forgotten dungeon, between the clenched arms of the skeletal body of a magician of old. Since then, Orion worked steadily to unveil the artifact's power, but some of its secrets yet escape the wizard's comprehension.

Staff of the Magus: given to him by a spirit during his journey to Arcadia, this powerful magical staff, engraved with shimmering runes, always subtly vibrates and resonates, following the rythm and melody of an unknown song: its upper end is often surrounded by an aura of occult energy, like a white flame in the darkness.

The Megatome: this burdensome tome is an ancient grimoire of sorcery, found by Orion in the depths of a forgotten mountain, far from the known world. Inside its glimmering pages, strange symbols and rhymes are written, used to cast spells that alter the flow of the song of the cosmos. They say that once this book was found by another brave adventurer, but what happened next has been lost to the mists of time.

Skills and Abilities:

Wall of Sound: the manipulation of the song of the cosmos is a technique mastered by Orion in decades of constant training. By altering the rythm and melody surrounding him, the wizard may perform sorcerous feats such as conjuring a solid wall of sound capable of deflecting bullets, or concentrate a sound wave to strike a mighty blow upon an enemy.

Hammer of Botany: Orion is an incredibly knowledgeable botanist and herborist. Thanks to his encyclopedic wisdom concerning plants and their uses, he may produce all kinds of poisons, drugs, potions, and the like.

Psychonauta: using psychotropic substances and plants, Orion may enter a trance-like state of communion of the song of the cosmos. In this altered state of consciousness, he may catch glimpses of the future or of things unknown, teleport through astral gates or contact the world of spirits.

Bio: born long ago in the outskirts of a great kingdom in the West, Orion was the last son of a family belonging to the lower nobility of the realm. Few recollections of his childhood remain in Orion's mind: the first clear memories come from his early teenage years, during the times of the civil war. As the noble families of the realm torn each other in bloody battles, each claiming the throne as their own, Orion's family was swept away by the tide of war: as the family mansion burned, Orion's eldest brother attempted to escape, carrying his youngest sibling with him, only to be cut down by an ambush. Orion managed to flee, ran across hills and deep forests, before taking shelter from the harsh weather inside a secluded cave, and there he collapsed, exhausted, his face crossed by streams of tears.

When Orion woke up, he found himself surrounded by the anchorets of the valleys. The old, bearded men welcomed the young orphan, barely eleven years old, into their community, as he had no other places to go. Soon, they discovered he had a talent for magic, and they taught him the ancient knowledge of the flora of the dales surrounding him. In his teenage years, Orion grew and blossomed, displaying a great interest for the natural world: he would spend entire hours walking in the deep woods, observing the magnificence of the flowering mountains. Soon, he started to wander ever farther from his valleys, discovering the beauty of the world surrounding him: the deep green leaves of the parthenoxylon, the vibrant red flowers of the callistemon, the intricate brown roots of the rhizophora. Soon, the time came when Orion asked to be left free to wander the world: the anchorets accepted, and after a long goodbye, Orion packed his things and left for his garden, the world.

Orion usually avoided great cities, preferring to keep to isolated paths and secluded villages. In these times, he gained quite a reputation among the peasants and farmers of his region, as he was known as a kind hearted man, and it was said that when he came, spring soon followed. In one of these peaceful hamlets, Orion met what perhaps was the most beautiful flower he ever saw: her name was love, and with her petals of wisteria she kept him close to her, as he with his leaves and branches of leucadendron kept her close to him, and the two became one. Yet, all flowers wither, and so did she. Disease caused her body to become cold, pale, but her heart remained warm, until death claimed her, and all that was left to Orion was an image, a spectre of felicity lost, the dried petals of a disappeared flower.

A solitary lifetime of journeys followed, after the initial winter of his soul. As seasons passed, warmth returned to Orion's heart, yet the idyll of that spring still accompanies Orion, however no more than a memory. Orion returned to travel, and while he travelled he also studied, becoming an ever more powerful magician. Soon, through song and sorcery, he could walk the realms of spirit, and the dreamlands that lie beyond the veil of sleep, from the desolate wastes of Eiriel to the towering walls of Arcadia. And there, to mysterious Arcadia, the city of a thousand lights, Orion arrived after his most arduous adventure. The gate of the city, surrounded by blossoming flowers with colors so vibrant they produced a synesthetic melody of their own, opened in a ray of blinding light, and a vision of an ancient love brought closure to his travels.

Now, Orion, in his old age, still roams the world, seeking the thrill of adventure, but also seeking someone to pass down his knowledge to, before his bones become the home of pteridophyte and erythronium, and his soul once again meets the flower of its spring.

Vox the Owl

Vox the Owl
Who? Who!

Name: Vox

Age: ?

Height: 52 cm

Weight: 810 g

Class: owl familiar

Race: Tawny Owl, a.k.a. Owl of Sorcerers (Strix Aluco Arcana)

Description: a rather large female owl, cloaked in deep brown feathers, and with two profound dark eyes, Vox can be found perched on the pauldron of Orion's armor, observing the world around her with her penetrating gaze, capable of cutting through the thickest curtains of darkness. Sometimes, her deeply echoing call can be heard resonating in the night: also, the owl often seems to speak in Orion's ear, and some say that Vox is capable of reporting what she saw in his journeys of exploration.

Weapons and Equipment: none, other than her claws and beak: Vox is a rather peaceful owl, but not many would like to see her angry.

Skills and abilities: none in particular, unless you count flying, night vision, and a very cunning spirit of observation.

Bio: the Arcana are a rare and noble branch of the Strix Aluco, one of the greatest families of the race of Owls. They are known for their very long lifespans, and for their talent for magic: thus, they have been called "Owls of Sorcerers", as they are highly sought after by wizards. Orion found Vox when she was still inside her egg, her nest destroyed by one of the fires men had started to clear the woods, in order to make room for more fields. Orion offered the egg warmth and shelter, until it finally hatched, giving birth to Vox.

Since then, Vox has always been at Orion's side, acting as his eyes and ears, scouting the territory ahead and sometimes even attacking enemies with her claws and beak: however, she often leaves him in order to spend time with her kin, the owls of the deep forests, guardians of the ancient knowledge of the woods, and to offer her prayers to the shrines of her ancestors, high on the top of the great trees.

I am going to shamelessly recycle an old character of mine who never managed to be play. Hope it's fine anyway.

...

Interested.

EDIT: are we allowed to play as a planetary corporation located in the Solar System? Specifically, Mars.