Avatar of Groompy
  • Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
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    1. Groompy 9 yrs ago

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7 yrs ago
Current Gavlan deal..
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7 yrs ago
Guess whoa back! Its me. Not a hard guess
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Punching people in the face? Sounds Irish to me! If I ever see him, I'll make him an honorary Irish person.
Whatever gets this show on the roooad.

Also, I'm still not on the character's page:

http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3387255
Gee, it sure is boring around here.




Gavlan knew not what to think of his new found companions; most of them being quite outlandish, or highly influential figures, Gavlan felt a little out of place as a Templar who had spent most of his life in complete solitude as a ranger, warding the roadsides and keeping the country safe. For the most part, most of his jobs had been low key, at least from his perspective. He had been a determining factor in the long waged Giant Wars that had struck the Northern regions many cycles ago, but, of course, it was a footnote in the history of Miras, and he hardly remembered the details, himself. He could never admit to his superiors in the Order that he had been, for lack of better words, completely piss drunk during a number of high priority engagements with the giants, as this would have, without a doubt, severed his ties with them immediately. As was such, he kept his involvement with most of his major skirmishes to a minimum. Although, this did not stop him from, occasionally, drunkenly and loudly boasting at taverns about his smaller kills where he preformed daring feats that could be, and probably were, impossible. He knew the Order prided themselves on their image, and he did not want to tarnish it out of pure respect, despite not fully agreeing with their policies: specifically, the alcohol related ones. As little as he knew about the finer details of the Order, he owed them his life, for they had given his life purpose when it had none, and, not only that, they had provided him with a steady stream of income. For this, he was eternally grateful towards them, and he provided them with the loyalty that only a Dwarf could muster, and, with his unquenchable lust for battle, he was sure sign up for any job available no matter the danger. He would see his life to the bitter end for the sake of the Order, but, as far as he was concerned, he was still due in this world a while longer. With a track record to prove it, along with many scars, no beast or man had yet matched his prowess in battle, and he fully intended for it to continue this way. If there was anything out there that could best him, he had yet to meet it.

As this was such, when Theodore called for volunteers to the front for a mission that even he had deemed as foolhardy, Gavlan had already began marching to the front of the room, gleaming battle axe in hand, before Theodore could even finish his statement. Gavlan, looking at Theodore, could tell that his new captain was thankful. Gavlan had met him the day, before, and, as far as he could tell, this Dwarf was certainly unique. He had known many Dwarves in his lifetime, but this black armored one had a strange aura about him that even he could detect. Although, he was unable to fully determine why, he had taken an, almost, instant liking to Theodore. Looking at the rest of the rag tag bunch that were to be his brothers in arms he could only think that they had a lot of work to do to prove to him that they were worth their weight. He felt a hand on his back, as Theodore patted him roughly, thanking him for joining his mission. Looking over at the aged face of his new friend and captain, Gavlan gave him a nod of approval. "I don't care what kind of mess we're going into, I'll make sure we get through it alive." Gavlan made this vow to Theodore, and he was going to do everything in his power to uphold his promise.




The day of their excursion came quickly, and Gavlan was none too disappointed to finally be leaving the city, with its cursed walls making him feel boxed in. As far as he was concerned, if Humans wanted to feel like trapped animals, then they could go right ahead and keep that lifestyle up. He had helped Theodore the night before, and had provided him with everything his memory could recollect about the surrounding areas, along with many maps he had drawn over the years. He had also visited about thirteen different taverns in the city with Theodore, subsequently emptying each out with gusto. Gavlan didn't like the constant bar hopping, but if Humans couldn't keep up with the demand of two Dwarves thirsty out for any liquor they could get their grubby mitts on, then they shouldn't have bothered opening that day at all. He could tell that Theodore thought very little of the porter they were demolishing, but he could also tell that Theodore was, at least, happy enough that there was any booze at all. Gavlan had also imparted Theodore with a little warning and rumor about the mines they were to traverse their way through. "There's a reason those mines were abandoned, Theodore. When more than fifty Dwarves suddenly go missing without so much as a trace, then you know there's something hideous lurking in the darkest pits of that cobwebbed, old path, and if I so much as catch a whiff of it, I'm going to track it down and kill it." The rest of their journey, he was less concerned about. He had maimed and slaughtered countless undead, before, that had wandered far from the master's influence; however, he had never killed a necromancer, before, but, by the earth mother, did he relish the thought of lobbing off their spell slinging hands and shoving his fist down their sourcery weaving throats. Dark magic that could raise the dead was something that he found absolutely repulsive.

Gavlan prepped his brown pony with everything he would need for the journey, which, of course, included a lot of alcohol, and his tried and true battle axe that was shinning fiercely in the Sun's rays, as if to show its excitement, as well. Gavlan then spent all of one second pondering whether he should keep the ropes he was given by Theodore, or to make more room for the whiskey he had bought the previous night. The rope was quickly discarded in favor for the tastier option. "Can't get drunk off rope." Gavlan muttered to himself before taking a long draft from his flask. He then gazed at his burdened, and slightly shabby pony. "Well, you're not much to look at, ya' mule, but ye'll do fine." Hiking himself over the saddle, he made his way towards the gathering outside the city gates. Carefully steadying himself as to not fall off when his pony halted, it had been a long while since he had rode on horseback, he met with Theodore and provided him with the sufficient maps they would need in order to properly make their journey in a quick manner. Gavlan was unsure as to why Theodore had written Foxfox on one of his maps, but he paid it no mind. Slowly, the other recruits started to pile in, their journey about to commence.

Before they set off, Theodore addressed his company, again, giving everyone a sharp reminder of what their cause was, and what their duties were. With that, he was off, everyone following close behind. Gavlan was proud to see that the Dwarf would hold no objections to his own plan, just as any captain should. The city disappearing into the haze, as Gavlan's pony cantered onward, he reminded himself of the pledge he had given Theodore, and he also allowed the excitement he felt towards the mission to ramp up. Gavlan knew that soon he would be in the thick of swathes of undead, fighting for his country and his brethren. He had a hard time concealing the slight smile that crept over his face, and he knew that his comrades wouldn't understand his love for the chaos of the battlefield like he did, but he couldn't help himself. It had been at least a week since his battle axe had tasted anything except the sweat off his back, and he was more than willing to try and satisfy its unending thirst. Letting himself go and leaning back on his pony laughing heartily, Gavlan shouted,

"First undead we see is mine to send rattling back to its whoreson grave, just so we're all clear!"
Time to nut up and shut up and start writing! Also, that post was fine, so don't feel too poorly for it.
Can't wait. The creative side of my brain is getting ansty to kill some weak ass necromancers and their puny undead. :D
I didn't sign up for all this namby-pamby political nonsense. When does Gavlan get to charge in recklessly?
Just a heads up, my character still isn't in the character's page.
Forgot to add my new post to the snipped post. My bad. Little bit on the tired side, right now.




Gavlan awoke early next morning feeling almost refreshed, if not for the soreness of his feet. Yesterday had been a long and arduous day for him, having circled around Loringrad at least a dozen times over trying to locate his client. Today, he figured, would prove to be much easier, now that his map had become exponentially more useful thanks to the merchant he had met the night before. Donning his armor, grabbing his satchel, and picking up his battle axe, which gleamed extravagantly from the light through his room's window, he made his way downstairs to the tavern. Despite how early it was in the morning, the tavern was abuzz with patrons chattering away. Ignoring this, Gavlan made his way to the bar, where the wrinkly, old barman was busy cleaning out his mugs with one ear perked up, and sat on a stool.
"Five pints. Make it quick, I'm almost sober."
"Any friends this time?"
"No. Get my beer."
"Fine. But I suppose you haven't heard the news, then?"
"I have. I think it has to do with you grabbing my beer." At this comment from Gavlan, the barman gave a long, drawn out sigh, and scurried off to grab his beer. After all, he was a well paying customer. Relaxing in his seat, Gavlan could not help but hear the noisy conversation from two High Elves in the table directly behind him. As he had nothing better to do while he awaited his breakfast, he pretended to be gazing out of a window, and began listening intently to their heated conversation. It was obvious from the beginning that the smartly dressed Elf was none too happy with their male counterpart "You shouldn't speak so loudly about rumors, Il'dur." The female elf spoke, tutting. "Well, it's true. If you ask me, the royal family has everything to do with King Gregor's death. It's obvious." The male elf retorted looking quite vexed from being scolded. He spoke in a more hushed tone, regardless, but still loudly enough to be heard. "Our late majesty, may his spirit rest at ease, had been sick for ages, suspiciously sick, if you didn't know. Of course you wouldn't, though, you're never quick to pick up on things." Looking pleased with himself, he leaned back in his seat. "What does his health have to do with anything? He's dead, now, his sickness is hardly a point, anymore. If you ask me, it was cultists from Starguard." Smiling an annoying smile, the male elf muttered. "Yeah, that would be an idiot's conclusion." Frowning, but not rising to his insult, she continued. "Either way, it's the Dawn Covenant's fault for not protecting him. What a useless bunch..." Gavlan sneered at this disingenuous comment. He knew for a fact that he and many other members of the covenant worked tirelessly to keep the land from being overrun by every new type of menace that cropped up almost weekly. The fact that his covenant, and by association, he himself, were being pinned for the murder of the High King was an absolute outrage, and he would not sit idly by. Turning around, facing the two Elves, who were about to pick up and leave, he belted, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Listen, you two blithering oafs! If I hear one more word against The Covenant of the Dawn, which I happen to be a part of, I'm going to start knocking heads!" The two Elves were taken aback by the sudden outburst from Gavlan, but the male Elf was quick to retaliate nonetheless. "Oh, so you're a part of this heralded covenant, eh? Oh, joyous joys, how happy I feel to be blessed with your presence, oh mighty one! How safe I feel knowing that your covenant can hardly watch over their own King, let alone its people. Let's hear what else you have to say on the matter." The sarcasm was biting, but what was more, the entire bar erupted in cheers for the elf. "HEAR, HEAR!" Came the barking cry of thickly bearded human from the corner seat. Growling deeply, Gavlan could easily tell that the mood for the covenant had shifted dementedly overnight; as much as he wanted to break the elf that stood in front of him in two, he knew deep down, that such actions would not help the situation. A mob had already quickly started forming around Gavlan, threatening to close in on him, but he did not fear a single one of them. "Unruly peasants! Out of my FUCKING way!" Shoving three patrons aside, sending a small, fat human bowling over into a table sending several plates smashing to the ground, Gavlan made his way outside.

Gavlan was highly irritated, mostly because of the Elf's words, but partially because he never got to drink his beer. He just couldn't believe it. The nerve of these people to place the blame on his Covenant was astounding. Perhaps, though, there was some truth to their claims, but he would not hear of them until there was proof. He knew deep down, that the only way to quell his nagging doubts about the situation would be to find solid evidence of the covenant's negligence. The castle of Loringrad stood proudly, making it an easy landmark to spot from any point in the city, its towers grazing the skies. Looking up towards it, he decided he should pay the royal family, or anyone else looking into the matter of the King's death, a visit.

"If anyone knows anything about what the hell's going on here, it'll be in that castle."
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