Maxwell

Deepest Abyss (Conquer the World)

It was a shame that the werewolves insisted on fighting to the last, that much Slarg registered even as he was bashing the last one into the floor. They were savage, and ferocious, and most of all tenacious. They would have fit in fine in his own army, back in the day, harassing enemy flanks and taking out their scouts in the night. Alas, they made a pitiful sight here, with their rusted, pitted blades. Their spears were handily outranged by Slarg's club, and their numbers weren't close to enough to circle him. The other escapees had even taking to toying with the things - Slarg might have too, but he was not in the mood. His limbs still ached from his long imprisonment, and he hadn't had a decent meal in ages. Stringy wolf-meat was the worst, and eating it raw off the ground was no way for a great chief to live. He offhandedly munched on a werewolf torso as he parried a spear-thrust, twisting his club so the rusted old thing snapped between the club's assorted protrusions. Slarg was not a scholar of rare monsters, but he had plenty of time to observe his fellow prisoners, and their behaviour put him at ease; they could certainly not be human. The red one fought with the strength of a beast twice her size or more. She also yelled a lot, which was always a plus.

Finally, the last werewolf got a little too close, and Slarg got it with a backhanded blow that sent it skipping across the surface of the lagoon. Following its bouncing path with amusement, the ogre grinned to himself - the first real humour he'd found in anything since the defeat of his army - until he noticed something floating in the water. A tiny body, bobbing up and down with the gentle disturbances in the lagoon's surface. Slarg narrowed his eyes. His kind were comfortable in dark caves, and he was quite certain of what he was seeing. It looked very much like a human, and very much like it was playing dead. Clever, in a way, but Slarg was much too wise and cunning to fall for a simple trick like that, and his revenge on the wretched humans would not be stopped by a few feet of water. Reaching down, he grabbed the battered remains of one of the werewolves, and flung it toward the girl in the water. That should be enough to see if she were alive.

Deepest Abyss (Conquer the World)

At first he had simply ignored the noise from outside. Screams and cries were nothing new, and through the meters-thick walls of his prison, it all blended together to Slarg. Muttering to himself about noisy thin-skins, he entertained himself by scratching crude drawings into the stone with the sharp bits of his club. He had managed to hold on to it, all that time running through the abyss. He had thought he had found a nice hiding spot, a deep, dark cave that the humans would be wary of entering, but instead he had run right into their prison. Slarg had been forced to go deeper and deeper, running and fighting for his life against an ever-growing horde of pursuers, until finally he could run no longer. Once again, he had thought he had found a hiding place, somewhere he could rest for just a moment. Only, he had woken up to find himself walled in, a smooth slab of stone where the entrance had been, magically reinforced, with only a small hole for the guards to slide in his intermittent meals. At the memory of his imprisonment, Slarg cursed the humans for their treachery and their magic. He had no idea how long he had been stuck in there, but it was enough that he had long since given up on escaping - that is, until the cries of pain were suddenly drowned out by cries of triumph. There was cheering, a lot of it, too much to be coming from the guards.

Curious, Slarg hurried to the door and pressed his enormous ear against the stone. Those weren't guards, no, they were the prisoners. He had heard them now and again, when the feeding hatch was open. He slammed his great fists against the wall and bellowed for someone to tell him what was going on... and found that the wall was nowhere near as impervious to harm as it had been. Eyes alight with glee and newfound hope, he gripped his mighty club in both hands and battered his way through the rock. He burst into the prison hallway in a shower of dust and pebbles, grinning madly as he hefted his club. The inmates in front of him - a rag-tag bunch of rogues, still picking over the dead - raised their weapons by pure reflex. A fatal mistake. The few that didn't immediately turn and run, were crushed underfoot as Slarg simply ran them over in pursuit of the larger group. The smarter runners, who had been able to work out the misunderstanding, desperately shouted apologies over their shoulders as they went, begging the ogre to kill the wardens instead of them.

The pursuit continued for several minutes, through many winding tunnels and past multiple groups of dumbfounded prisoners. Slarg, who enjoyed wanton violence, would most likely have chased them down and killed them regardless of their pleas, were it not for the wall of werewolves that materialized in front of the fleeing inmates, stopping them dead in their tracks. Slarg's sheer momentum carried him through the first three or so ranks of prisoners, many of whom survived, and brought him face to face with the werewolves. The flurry of fangs, fur tufts and blood that followed might have made it into the history books. But unfortunately, Slarg was thoroughly illiterate, and dead werewolves tell no tales. Even a werewolf doesn't heal very well from having its skull smashed clean through its ribcage, and Slarg's club was adorned with the odd bit of silver, from weapon decorations and old jewellery stuck in the wood. The cramped prison tunnel was not ideal for a creature of Slarg's size, but the werewolves' numbers worked against them in a similar fashion. Their fangs and teeth were hard-pressed to make it through his ogrish blubber, and as one of them found out the hard way, his jaws opened wider than theirs.

The battle carried them through another couple of tunnels, and as he was finally prizing the last werewolf remains off his club, Slarg looked up to find himself at the entrance to a large, open chamber, smelling of stale water. What's more, he was not alone. A large group of creatures were standing off to the side, engaged in loud discussion. Having sated his bloodlust, at least momentarily, it suddenly occurred to Slarg that he was still stuck in the humans' prison. These new creatures didn't have the same sense of fear about them that the other ones had - perhaps they could be of some use, even though they did look suspiciously clean and tidy.

"You!" he bellowed, before the tension of his entrance could fade, "mighty Slarg wants out! What way is out?"

Deepest Abyss (Conquer the World)

Slarg the Marauder

• Appearance:

• Title: Slarg the Marauder
• True Name: Slarg
• Age: 43
• Species: Ogre

• Weapons:
Slarg wields a mighty club, roughly axed into shape from the heartwood of a treant, crudely bound and studded with the strongest metals he could loot. Over the years, Slarg has killed many mighty champions, and their magical weapons adorn the business end of Slarg's club - sometimes crudely bolted on, sometimes punched clean through the wood. As a result, its appearance is quite eclectic, but it packs a punch.

• Species Traits:
Monstrous Strength: Ogres are simple creatures, but no less dangerous for that fact. An ordinary ogre can fit a human's entire head in its mouth, or crush it like an egg between thumb and forefinger. The strongest ogres have been known to drag giants to the floor and wrench off their limbs, or wield siege weapons single-handedly. Their large size and powerful legs allow them to outrun most smaller creatures, and even a weaponless ogre can depopulate a small village on its own.

Monstrous Toughness: Ogres are as thick-skinned as they are thick-headed, with dense, heavy bones and leathery skin that feels little pain. Every broken bone heals up harder than before, and every scar and callus is thicker than the skin around it. Raw meat and mouldy food are little danger to an ogre, and their prodigious size allows them to absorb tremendous amounts of poison.

• Special Abilities:
Ogres aren't the most inventive race, the most religious or the most in tune with the flow of magic, and Slarg is even less of all those things than usual.

• Inventory:
Slarg isn't much of a craftsman, and it isn't always easy to find craftsmen in the Abyss who'll take "not having their face caved in" as payment for quality goods. As Slarg rarely has the patience or inclination to work out anything else, he tends to travel light. Slarg's clothing tends to be less resilient to damage than he is, and accordingly, he barely owns anything to even keep his inventory in. His only worldly possessions, beyond his beloved club and some raw animal hides to preserve his modesty, are several prodigious lengths of rope and chain, that he keeps wrapped around various body parts for storage. Neither the rope nor chain is adapted to his size or anywhere near able to hold his weight, but they are useful for strapping on trophies or items of particular interest.

• Background:
Slarg was once a conqueror, an ogre warlord with a host of lesser warriors hanging on to his every bellow. His army rampaged across multiple smaller kingdoms, destroying and devouring everything in their path for many months, and adding countless fearsome monsters to their ranks. Slarg might have gone down in the history books as one of the greatest conquerors of all time, if it hadn't been for his one weakness - basic military strategy.

As Slarg's monstrous army grew, it became more and more difficult to feed all those hungry mouths, and Slarg's enemies were aware of this fact. Once Slarg brought his forces to bear against one of the larger human realms, the peasants in his path simply set fire to their fields and storehouses, took their livestock and ran for the hills long before the monsters could reach them. Soon, the starving monsters grew desperate, morale fell, and the army fell upon itself, destroying itself in mere days. Monster fought against monster, in a greater battle than anything Slarg had ever seen - and when it was all over, only Slarg himself remained.

Alone, tired and wounded, Slarg found himself hunted like an animal by the weakling humans he had been slaughtering for months. They chased him night and day, all across Altfare, and only stubborn pride and rage kept him on his feet as he ran and hid from his pursuers. They chased him all the way to the edge of he Abyss where, faced with a final choice, he leapt into the darkness rather than surrender to his fate.

• Other: Optional. Anything else not mentioned above that you may wish to add goes here.

Deepest Abyss (Conquer the World)

It's been years since I last visited this site, but when I come here on a whim and see a game this inviting, I just have to give it a shot. It's late at night, so this isn't anywhere near finished, but feel free to give me pointers and opinions none the less. The background especially is subject to change and expansion - I don't know what the entrance to the Abyss physically looks like or operates, so I just went with what was convenient for me.

Slarg the Marauder

• Appearance:

• Title: Slarg the Marauder
• True Name: Slarg
• Age: 43
• Species: Ogre

• Weapons:
Slarg wields a mighty club, roughly axed into shape from the heartwood of a treant, crudely bound and studded with the strongest metals he could loot. Over the years, Slarg has killed many mighty champions, and their magical weapons adorn the business end of Slarg's club - sometimes crudely bolted on, sometimes punched clean through the wood. As a result, its appearance is quite eclectic, but it packs a punch.

• Species Traits:
Monstrous Strength: Ogres are simple creatures, but no less dangerous for that fact. An ordinary ogre can fit a human's entire head in its mouth, or crush it like an egg between thumb and forefinger. The strongest ogres have been known to drag giants to the floor and wrench off their limbs, or wield siege weapons single-handedly. Their large size and powerful legs allow them to outrun most smaller creatures, and even a weaponless ogre can depopulate a small village on its own.

Monstrous Toughness: Ogres are as thick-skinned as they are thick-headed, with dense, heavy bones and leathery skin that feels little pain. Every broken bone heals up harder than before, and every scar and callus is thicker than the skin around it. Raw meat and mouldy food are little danger to an ogre, and their prodigious size allows them to absorb tremendous amounts of poison.

• Special Abilities:
Ogres aren't the most inventive race, the most religious or the most in tune with the flow of magic, and Slarg is even less of all those things than usual.

• Inventory:
Slarg isn't much of a craftsman, and it isn't always easy to find craftsmen in the Abyss who'll take "not having their face caved in" as payment for quality goods. As Slarg rarely has the patience or inclination to work out anything else, he tends to travel light. Slarg's clothing tends to be less resilient to damage than he is, and accordingly, he barely owns anything to even keep his inventory in. His only worldly possessions, beyond his beloved club and some raw animal hides to preserve his modesty, are several prodigious lengths of rope and chain, that he keeps wrapped around various body parts for storage. Neither the rope nor chain is adapted to his size or anywhere near able to hold his weight, but they are useful for strapping on trophies or items of particular interest.

• Background:
Slarg was once a conqueror, an ogre warlord with a host of lesser warriors hanging on to his every bellow. His army rampaged across multiple smaller kingdoms, destroying and devouring everything in their path for many months, and adding countless fearsome monsters to their ranks. Slarg might have gone down in the history books as one of the greatest conquerors of all time, if it hadn't been for his one weakness - basic military strategy.

As Slarg's monstrous army grew, it became more and more difficult to feed all those hungry mouths, and Slarg's enemies were aware of this fact. Once Slarg brought his forces to bear against one of the larger human realms, the peasants in his path simply set fire to their fields and storehouses, took their livestock and ran for the hills long before the monsters could reach them. Soon, the starving monsters grew desperate, morale fell, and the army fell upon itself, destroying itself in mere days. Monster fought against monster, in a greater battle than anything Slarg had ever seen - and when it was all over, only Slarg himself remained.

Alone, tired and wounded, Slarg found himself hunted like an animal by the weakling humans he had been slaughtering for months. They chased him night and day, all across Altfare, and only stubborn pride and rage kept him on his feet as he ran and hid from his pursuers. They chased him all the way to the edge of he Abyss where, faced with a final choice, he leapt into the darkness rather than surrender to his fate.

• Other: Optional. Anything else not mentioned above that you may wish to add goes here.

Soul Eater: Dance Of Devils

At long last, I added a few sentences about Kiora. I feel like you were expecting more, but I'm not entirely sure what you want. It's not like we're going to have a long history together, and I would assume figuring out our chemistry would be a large part of the game.

Soul Eater: Dance Of Devils

I just wanna say I'm still here. Me and Kaithas have discussed our background, and we're keeping it pretty simple and straightforward. For multiple reasons, it hasn't been practical for me to add the last details to my sheet just yet - sorry about that. I'll see to it as soon as possible, but I don't think you need to hold off on starting the IC on my behalf.

Soul Eater: Dance Of Devils

Nice. For once, I wasn't entirely confident. :P

@Kaithas Likewise.

Soul Eater: Dance Of Devils

@Maxwell I actually have a song for Dorian, I think. When we get everyone figured out I'll probably eventually make a playlist for all the characters lmao. I'm terrible for that.

Dorian's Song Yo

@DearTrickster

I wouldn't have guessed it from the name, but it's actually pretty fitting. Also made me think of another song for Dorian, on a more humorous note. Sadly, YT doesn't have the full version in good quality.

Hider

Soul Eater: Dance Of Devils

Hah hah, well, I'm holding my thumbs. And in the spirit of success, I'm gonna post the only acceptable theme song for my character: you get one guess.

Soul Eater: Dance Of Devils

Really looking forward to it. Browsing some other games (of the realtime tabletop variety) in the meantime has really made me appreciate how pleasant and emotionally mature everyone in this game has been. :D

Let's eat some souls.