• Last Seen: 8 yrs ago
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
  • Posts: 86 (0.02 / day)
  • VMs: 0
  • Username history
    1. Rainmaker 11 yrs ago

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts

Sorry, kinda short and unreviewed post. I'll clear it up some later!
"...good grief." Shork had been drinking some of Pucksy's prized ale when the gnoll smashed through the door, but his aching head was not caused by alcohol - the sheer force of the giant gnoll had knocked him off one of the fickle stools and with his vertigo already on the edge, caused him to land skull-first on the unforgiving hardwood floor. As tough as his orcish head was, it wasn't meant to take a fall like that, especially at his age, he thought as he got up groaning and holding said part of his body with one hand, looking around the ruined establishment. It was somewhat weird that the gnoll hadn't eaten him outright... but looking around the room it seemed like most of the customers had been spared, only knocked aside with ease with some having claw marks on their bodies as if the gnoll had casually swiped at them throughout his rampage, but it didn't look like they were wounded all too badly - with the notable exception of somebody who very much seemed to have a good chunk of his torso missing, laying on the floor unconscious and bleeding out quickly. The half-orc let out another groan, he was used to the sight of blood but seeing it drip out of a fellow man, one that belonged to his community, was still a little disconcerting. His head still aching, he got on his hands and knees, crawling over to the injured man and pilfering an aristocrat's purple cloak on the way - he might have to deal with the consequences later, but that'd be something he could deal with more than one of his villagers dying. "Man, you're in bad shape..." he muttered under his breath looking at the frail, pale body under him, before gently pressing the cleaner part of the fabric against the bleeding wound, soaking it with blood quickly. It might not do much, or anything even, but he resigned to the fact that he was neither skilled nor equipped to take better care of it, instead yelling into the night as he tried to stem the bleeding. "Uh, I need a doctor or somethin' around here! Anyone?"
I am not currently interacting with anyone, so i'm fine with moving on to the morning - all i'd likely post is that Shork had gone home before the gnoll ambush hit and went to sleep there. I might do that anyway, but since it wouldn't move any kind of story along, there's no need waiting for it.
Looks like it. Sorry about there being no posts from me, i'm still following the RP and all, but been left with a little lack of time lately. Woe is me, obligations.
Wheeew, you guys are insane. I can't keep up with that speed... i'll read stuff and write a post tomorrow.
Finally caught up on reading all of your posts and making an introduction. Jeez, that took forever~!
Shork trudged through the night with a scowl, his face only shadily illuminated by the fading torch in his hand. Not long now at least until he was safe in Estermere - he didn't fear the dark per se, his heritage giving him the ability to see more of it than an ordinary human might, but walking alone in the deepest night still made him wary especially with the current rumours of brigandage going around. It was fine in the depth of the forest, but now that he was on the road he felt himself sorely reminded why the frail merchant hired him as a guide and guard rather than taking his chances alone... not that he could take on even a shoddily organised group of bandits by himself, but looking as ferocious as he did had it's advantages in making the lone highwaymen and the more half-hearted bandits re-consider their targets.

It was another half hour before he finally reached the gate, his torch having gone out by then, though with the light coming from the nightly market held in Estermere he wouldn't need it anymore. As he approached, one of the two guards took a step forward, shouting out in a voice that had just a slight bit of an uncertain tremor in it. "H...halt! Whoever wants... the newer one of the two yelled out, though Shork silenced him with an annoyed growl and his husky rough voice. "Yeah yeah Marcus, I get it. You're a guard now, i'm mighty proud of you, doesn't mean you have to annoy me. I hunt the meat that's on your table, i'll have ya know!" the half-orc said with a grin on his rugged face. The guard visibly relaxed and let out a sigh, stepping back and leaning against the wall once more, an easy smirk playing on his face as well now. "Ooh... just you, Shork. Could've been any orc, half or full. Back from playing nurse for some spoiled noble's kid?" Shork let out a loud laugh. "It's a livin'. Some people walk the lands and provide food and protection. Others stand around a gate endlessly waving a stick around. Suit yourself I say! Ah, but have a good night. The hunter shook hands with the younger of the two guards, the one he'd been talking to. He had managed to convince Marcus that he was a productive member of their city, with the young guard accepting his place in society and Shork giving him the respect he wanted in return - and so they formed a simple sort of friendship. Others, well... he gave the older guard a glance as he walked past the gate into the city, heading for the inn... others he'd spend a lifetime convincing. But this wasn't the moment to worry about that.

He wouldn't let it bother him, the green-skinned hunter decided, at least not for now. He made a conscious effort getting more involved in the community and even forging friendships here and there, and he wouldn't stop just because a few of them were stubborn... besides, he liked this place. Sure, it had more than it's fair share of problems and a fair share of distrustful people too, but when the mayor accepted him, so did many of the inhabitants - more than you could expect of many places on this continent, and something he would never be able to repay the kindly man for, though he swore to himself, renewing his pledge, it wouldn't be for lack of trying. Walking right past the slave auction - that particular part of Estermere he didn't care much for - the high prices that were called out nonetheless caught his interest as he watched the bare-chested tattooed man on the stands for a few moments, eyeing him from top to bottom with wary eyes. "...they're paying HOW much for this guy?" One-hundred and forty-five gold pieces was ridiculous for any slave, and this one, while looking like a fine worker, didn't seem anywhere special enough to justify a price like that. With a sigh, the half-breed shrugged and moved on, though not being able to help himself at feeling a tinge of jealousy and mild indignation that some people had enough money to throw around like that. More than enough money to feed themselves or anyone for that matter, to dine on rare delicacies while wearing silk and diamonds while still having the coin to buy a hundred kids off the street if they so please. It almost made him miss the life on the streets, being able to relieve them of that gold, steal from the rich and give to the Shork... almost, he reminded himself while rubbing his knuckles. But, the half-orc decided, this wasn't the moment to worry about that either, as he swung open the door to the Jolly Hippogriff, stepping in and shouting out to the landlord with a grin on his scarred, furrowed face. "Hey! Oi, Pucksy, ya got any more of that ale? I worked harder than any of those drunken bums tonight, promise you that!"
I'll make a post soon, a little busy right now!
Name: Shork

Race: Half-Orc

Age: 41

Gender: Male

Appearance: Standing at 6'5", Shork looks rather brutish like most half-orcs do - though he seems to take a little more after his human mother, it doesn't take anything away from the broad, powerful build and muscle mass of his orcish blood. His skin has an evident greenish hue and tusks protrude from his mouth, that along with red eyes making his heritage obvious to anyone who gets as much as a glance of him. Decades of being outside and hunting have left quite a mark on him, leaving his face furrowed and small scars all over his face and arms. Combined with short black hair that has grey streaks already in it and a stubbly beard, he looks exactly like the grizzled middle-aged hunter he is.

Clothing/Armor: Shork has used the same set of hide armor along with leather breeches and boots for years, and it shows in the many uneven patches where he mended it himself or paid somebody else to do so - his armor was originally of a dark brown colour, but now it has speckles of different shades of brown, grey and black all over it, and the many repairs made it bulge and be baggy in spots, yet still he outright refuses to get it replaced, being so adamant about it that some of the children in Estermere giggle behind his back that he'd die if he were to take it off.
It serves him well enough for his endeavors though, and it provides him with more mobility that something made of metal might - If the winter gets particularly harsh, he wears a cloak and a hood made of thick furs over his usual attire.

Weapons: He carries a longbow that he stubbornly keeps in pristine condition, regularly letting it get treated by a bowyer. Though he's usually careful with letting other people touch any of his belongings, he makes an exception for this bow, being implacable about it having to be just perfect. Strapped to his back is a leather quiver where he keeps around twenty arrows (though occasionally packing more, up to fifty, when he goes on longer hunting trips) with goose fletchings, replenished after each hunt. Other than that, the only weapon he has with him is a knife with a handle made of horn and a slightly curved blade on his belt that he uses in emergencies if an animal ever gets too close to him, though he mainly uses it to skin the animals he hunts and to cut up the meat he sells.

Skills/Abilities: His main skill is hunting, and as such he makes his living mainly by selling carcasses, furs and hides to those who finish processing them, though occasionally he sells them to the general populace as well. As somebody who lives alone and has worked many jobs over the years, he is also somewhat competent in various skills such as basic repair work in regards to his hut, clothing and tools, fishing as well as cooking the meat he keeps for himself. As a hunter, he's also proficient at making traps (although he prefers hunting with a bow) and in the rare cases somebody needs it, serves as a guide and guard for the outskirts of Estermere, all the way up to the Everwinter Mountains if the pay is right, though he refuses to go to Fullforge Keep itself. (this would depend on how far away the Everwinter Mountains really are, it sounded like they are at least somewhat close!) From his youth, he's also adept in fist fights, although he hasn't been in a real one for years.

Magic: Nope!

Inventory (not counting what he has in his hut):

  • A backpack filled with things to survive days in the wilderness - a bed roll, a waterskin, a fire striker, rations made of dried meat, and a strong rope.

  • A few torches

  • A cooking kit - a small iron pot and skillet, a wooden bowl, plate and ladle, and small packets of seasonings to provide for himself, stored in the backpack

  • Enough gold coins to live a comfortable life, if not a luxurious one (not sure about how much a gold coin can really buy you)



Backstory:
Having been born to a human mother and an orc father and abandoned rather quickly, Shork fended for himself ever since he was old enough to walk. Growing up in the streets of Fayport, he got through his early years by begging and stealing, and when he was old enough, putting his orcish traits and brutish strength to good work operating as a bouncer or enforcer for shadier types and soon participating in 'harder' crimes such as mugging and extortion occasionally, and soon joining a Thieves' Guild in the city. He rose in the ranks rather quickly, though before he could really become a higher-up in it, he got too eager and tried to mug the wrong target - one of the dwarven merchants of Fullforge Keep trying to sell the ore his brothers mined. Easily overwhelmed, he was left to the guard and, not being important enough for the guild to bail him out, he ended up spending years in jail, the experience severely changing his outlook in life and leading to him cutting his ties with any criminal activities.
After he was released, he still worked odd jobs here and there though trying hard to stay on a more honorable path than before his imprisonment, leading to him working jobs that required little training such as being a deckhand and a bodyguard and soon completing basic military training as well, before settling down helping out an old ranger, learning about the art of hunting, trapping and surviving while hauling the carcasses the old man caught. Happy about being given the opportunity to redeem himself from his earlier deeds, he was equally devastated when the man inevitably died of old age - he spent the rest of his meager earnings to give him a proper funeral before setting out to live in the woods with his mentor's equipment, sharpening his skills and only going to cities, particular Estermere, every now and then to sell his wares, until he had a long heart-to-heart talk with the mayor and allowed himself to settle down there in an old hut. Ever since, he's lived a simple life there, being content with being part of the community even though he's not the most social person. Recently he warmed up and made friends with an Elven woman, going on somewhat regular hunts with her, though she is one of the few he trusts enough to do longer hunting trips with him.

My backstory is kinda all over the place right now, i'll clean it up later, it's pretty late right now - I might also add some more mundane items to his inventory, but i'll warn people before I do.
Sure! You can also just have Isaac elope with Xris on his own, since i'll be gone and busy for a week or two. Or you can wait a little longer for my posts, your call!
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet