Red Wizard

Interest Check for Blackguards!

Just to be clear: pictures are not mandatory! I just like the visual aspect to add flavor. Your characters are fine just as they are, picture or not.

Ye Olde Laboratory

Holgarth Half-Blood, King o' the Hills and the High Places

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Name

Holgarth Half-Blood, King o' the Hills and the High Places

Race

Half-Giant

Gender

Male

Age

35

Appearance

Hair Shoulder length, coal black
Eyes Dark and challenging
Skin Tanned, weather worn, tattooed, scarred
Length 200cm / 6ft
Weight 120kg / 265lbs
Build Heavily muscular, broad chest, straight back
Clothes Loincloth and boots, all leather

Personality

Say one thing for the King o' the Hills, say he's a hard bastard. Holgarth is focused to the point that he is sometimes percieved as humorless by other people. He's infamous for his fiery temper, judging quickly and harshly. Once Holgarth has set his mind on something it is hard, if not impossible, to sway him from his course. This stubborness of character doubles as bravery in battle, which he persues fearlessly when given the chance. Holgarth is that man that fighting men dread having to face, the kind that smiles and licks the blood of his teeth after you've punched him square in the face.

Holgarths philosophy can be quickly summed up as "Might makes Right". If you can take a thing, it is yours. If you can force an opponent to submit with violence, your position is the superior one. In his mind, violence is the supreme authority from which all other authorities are derived. This belief has bestowed him with a somewhat surprising respect for King Tyronde, whose force conquered Hogarths own. He is not one to submit, however, having vowed revenge and intending to collect Tyrondes head one day. He looks forward to the struggle with all his heart.

Bearing this in mind, one could be led to believe that Holgarth is nothing more than a mindless, bloodthirsty brute. Nothing could be further from the truth. The King o' the Hills and the High Places is a cunning man; perhaps not learned, but in possession of an uncanny guile forged from years and years of wars and battles. Holgarth knows that telling a man you will kill him does not make it so. The true warrior hides his blade in the grass and strikes when least expected. All in all, the Half-Blood is a very dangerous man to count among your enemies.

Background

Holgarth was born to certain stars by uncertain parents under a bloodied moon somewhere in the High Places of the Westerlands. His mother, a human whose name has been lost to history, died giving birth to the giant baby. The abomination was quickly discarded by the tribe she belonged to, put in the wilderness to be eaten by wolves. They had not counted on Holgarths father to care for his offspring, but he did. The stars told of a promising future for the youngling, and the giant took him on to explore what destiny had in store. Not much is known about Holgarths formative years, but the rumor is that his giant father fed him blood instead of the mothers milk he was robbed of.

Many years later, Holgarth returned to his mothers tribe. She had been of noble blood, and the Half-Blood came demanding his position as chieftain of the tribe. They flatly refused, and so it came to be that Holgarth slew the twelve men that dared challenge his claim.

Talents

Skills/Powers/Training/Whatever

Flaws

Fears/Vulnerabilities/Vices/Whatever

Equipment

The Stuff your Character checked in with (Nothing Stupid)

Miscellaneous

Whatever

Interest Check for Blackguards!

@An Outsider Great character! I'd love it if you could find a picture that matches your description, but I understand completely if that's too difficult.

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

@Fuzzybootz I can relate, got a little two-monther at home and a demanding full time job. Just needed to know you were still on board! 🙂

Interest Check for Blackguards!

@Spin The Wheel Sweet! Looks like a solid character to me. If I could request one thing, it'd be to know more of how and why Christoph ended up in the Maw. What did he do to upset the Kingdom enough to get thrown in there? Other than that, you're good as gold.

And with that, I feel we're getting ready to move on to the OOC. You can expect it within a day or so!

There's always room for last minute applications, of course 😉

The Shadow over Old Caledon - Open for Applications

@Fuzzybootz Hey friend, been a while since we've seen you in the thread. You still with us?

Interest Check for Blackguards!

@Kassarock That's a really cool idea!

Welcome to Vradia

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S i m b e l m y n ë

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Simbel looked at what apparently passed for food being sloshed into wooden bowls and offered around to her fellow companions. She could see the individual components swimming around in the slop, see the minced and mashed pieces of the plants and animals sacrificed to make this... this thing. All of it wasted. All of it ruined. Nice, tender rabbits slaughtered, only to be defiled. She couldn't stop her nose from wrinkling at the smell, and as the ignorant woman turned to offer Simbel a bowl of her own, she realized she must be frowning too, because the woman shied back when meeting her gaze. I do not eat... that, she said, holding out her hand to pass up on the stew. I will hunt my own food.

Turning around, her yellow eyes fell on the next affront. The so-called beds. Damp, dirty, lice infested sacks of cloth. And they were supposed to... to share them? It was more than Simbel could bear. As if having to sleep cooped up inside a small, smelly house wasn't enough, they expected her to degrade herself even further? No. She would sleep in the fresh air, under a starlit sky, where she could smell the scents of night and hear its denizens. She looked about the room, searching for some kind of solace, but there was none. A small window up by the rafters caught her attention. It would probably serve.

I will sleep in the wild, she said, I will find you at dawn. Then, without waiting for an answer, she transformed once more. In a matter of moments her hair and skin had been exchanged for a white feather coat, her arms for wings, and her legs for razor sharp talons. The eagle took flight, slipped through the window, and was lost in the night.

Dwarves!

@Eviledd1984@Expendable@tundrafrog1124 And we're off!

Dwarves!

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The mines of Thrillem tremble with the voices of a thousand dwarves...

HEIGH! HO! HEIGH! HO!

HEEEIGH! HOOO! HEEEIGH! HOOO! HEEE-

-igh! Du-ba-du-ba-dum,
Ho! Du-ba-du-ba-dum
Heigh! Du-ba-dum
Ho! Du-ba-dum
Heigh! Du-ba-du-ba-Ho!

This is the night, brethren, the eve of adventure!
Heigh! Of adventure! Ho! This is the night! The eve of adventure!

Heigh! Du-ba-du-ba-dum, Ho! Du-ba-du-ba-dum
Heigh! Du-ba-Ho! Du-ba-Heigh! Du-ba-du-ba-Ho!

Forward you go, brethren, to claim stolen treasure!
Heigh! Stolen treasure! Ho! Forward you go! To claim stolen treasure!

Aye, you feel it in your Bone,
Pride, and longing, for your Home,
Strength and honor, kin of Stone!

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A L B E R I C H

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The Great Hall trembled with the thunder of a thousand voices as the dwarves of Thrillem sang the Song of Farewells for their chosen heroes. The song was ancient, recounting all the previous times that heroes had been sent to the surface on glorious quests of revenge or conquest. It was staggering to Alberich to think that, at the end of that long and epic poem, his name and those of his fellow chosen would be added to it. He felt a stab of grief as he realized that his mate would not be mentioned, even in passing. The Song of Farewells had no room for casualties during minor raids. Alberich sniffed, stifling a sob. This was no time to show weakness. This was their night - the eve of adventure.

And what a night it was. The tables seemed endless, stretching into the distance in the cavernous Hall, bulging with a treasure of food and drink. Tens of thousands of candles burned bright, bathing the Hall in a warm, orange light. As far as Alberich could tell, every dwarf in Thrillem had brought their musical instruments, too. When the music started, its echoes would ring through the Deep Places for weeks to come. He glanced at his horn, placed at his feet, longing for the moment when he would join in the fanfare. What a night to be alive! His wedding had been grand, but it seemed a small and private thing compared to this.

The Greybeards, elders of Thrillem, sat at the dais above, smiling down on the proceedings. Somewhere up there were the old and wise dwarves who had decided on sending him and his companions in search of the Fist. Alberich could not fathom how or why they had noticed him among such excellent dwarves, but they had. Not only that, they had chosen him over scores of others, brave warriors and champions of the mines. It was a tremendous honor, but a heavy burden, too. He vowed to make his ancestors proud. To make his mate proud, in death. No matter the cost.

Alberich looked to his side, at the other chosen ones standing next to him. He had never met any of them before, but they were soon going to be his only friends and allies once they reached the surface world. Who were they, and what were they like? He could only guess, but he hoped he would prove himself to them. He wanted nothing more than to be a good companion. He wanted to be useful. As the song came to a close, he watched as the entire population of Thrillem raised their cups, goblets and mugs in their honor. In his honor. He raised his in return, trying to meet the gazes of the crowd before him but drowning in the sheer number of faces.

The dwarves roared as one. All hail the champions! All hail the heroes of Thrillem! Ancestors guide their path! Hail!

Alberich roared in return, raising his cup to his people. Hail!