The drunken Welshman Member
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- The drunken Welshman 10 yrs ago
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Dibs on sceptic
If this idea is still up, I will do it.
I'm active again, my wifi is back up so I'm back.
"I see, I'm sorry for the confusion." Its just that I often experience livid nightmares and in them people often speak in different languages." He said to her as he took another and thankfully final piece of steak.
He Picked up the fork and placed it on his place away from the rest of his food. He picked up another fork as he continued to eat his food. He saw someone staring at him. He looked straight at them. Even if it was fake, another torture. He needed to speak to someone. Problem was that he did not know what language she spoke. In his dreams they spoke many. So he said hello, first in English. Then he said Good afternoon in Welsh and Japanese. It was the simplest way to tell what tongue they spoke.
Gradually he awoke, he climbed out of the bed to see a guard stood by his door. He sighed and walked over and allowed the handcuffs to be put on. After that he was brought to the cafeteria. He picked up a steak and placed it on a plate and followed his guard to his seat. Sitting down he realised he had been sat by most of the other patients and not by himself like he preferred. His single white glove was unusual. On the back of his hand was Kanji for death touch. He had especially requested it andsurprisenly they allowed it. Mainly as it meant that he could not touch others.
He silently ate his meal as he looked around. He saw one girl, it looked like she was walking towards him. As she neared, he expected her to attack him, to drive a blade into his neck. He closed his eyes and braced for the pain. But just felt her carry on walking. He cut his steak and lifted a piece to his mouth. He saw the saw them, crawling down his fork. Millions of them crawling up towards him. He heard the stainless steel clatter on the floor. He finally brough himself to look down. To see a piece of steak, nothing but a piece of steak and a fork lodged through it.
He silently ate his meal as he looked around. He saw one girl, it looked like she was walking towards him. As she neared, he expected her to attack him, to drive a blade into his neck. He closed his eyes and braced for the pain. But just felt her carry on walking. He cut his steak and lifted a piece to his mouth. He saw the saw them, crawling down his fork. Millions of them crawling up towards him. He heard the stainless steel clatter on the floor. He finally brough himself to look down. To see a piece of steak, nothing but a piece of steak and a fork lodged through it.
He is already in.
Llywelyn
"Just how I like em, lying on the floor dead."
Full name: Llywelyn the Bastard
Titles: Crimsonblade, Draig (Title given to him by the welsh devision that he is head of.)
Rank: Stag
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Personality: He has what will later be known as bipolar disorder, he will usually be one moment very cheerful and the next very serious. In terms of respect, he believes that skill, not what side they are on is what it should be earned by. And by skill he means skill in battle. He is often called a drunk due to his past but these days his tolerance of the drug usually just means he is more cheerful.
Althrough he has a natural respect for his comrades, if he believes one is dragging down the name of the Iron Company, he will challenge them to a fight.
He does not have much of a opinion of the queen as he only served a week before leaving for wales, In his opinion on the situation is that it provides good pay and a stable headquarters. Also with the prospects of it allowing the Company to expand and become a larger presense often makes him side with the deal.
History: Originally coming from Wales, he lived there for a long time of his life and so learned the language fluently, he was a boy at the age of nine when he moved so never had a job or apprenticeship.
He was a blacksmiths apprentice for much of his life when he moved into the country and learned to forge there, he usually prefers to forge his own equipment as a result. During the bloody revolution. His village was burnt to the ground. He gathered whatever strands remained and went off looking for better circumstances.
He was starving and dying from dehydration when he was found by the iron company. They taught him how to fight and defend himself. He is often grateful to them for his life so believes that ever since that day, the company took his life and so he will fight until his last breath for them. He was trained with a group of nine others until the time came for him to prove himself in combat. He was called into a battle agaisnt a large bandit group. He fought bravely and often found himself in the thick of conflict, during that battle he sustained an arrow in his arm but ignored it for the scale of the battle, luckly the arrow never broke so a clean removal was preformed after the battle.
As he was from Wales originally and fluent in its language, he was sent on a mission to start a garrison there. It was a sucess and futher helped to strengthen the reputation of the guild. He is often called by the title of "Draig" by the welsh group of soildiers that acompanied him back. The reason for his return is due to his promotion to stag after the old stag was killed. As such he is the advisor and subordinate of the Bear. However he has no wish to rise to any higher rank in the future as he would dispise being ladened down by the responsibilities of the running of the guild even more than he already is.
Skills: He is a skilled swordsmen and leader, he oversaw the creation of a outpost in his welsh homelands and would always stand at the very front of his men, He is a skilled armorer and smithy to the point that he is often called upon to inspect the qualities of weapons by many soldiers. He has taught himself to read so that he may rummage through books for information and not have to relie on having his letters read aloud for all to hear.
During his time in the Welsh outpost, he learned to shoot and make a longbow, he has a like for the weapon and has a natural skill for the weapon.
His combat tactic is to use his axe to pull away a shield to leave them open and then slice with his sword.
Dreams and fears: He has a obsession with dragons and so before the company became the queens guard, he would often tail up rumors of the beasts.
Favored equipment: He usually has a sword which has the queens emblem sketched into the blade, a simple leather scabbard is wheee it hangs at his waist. On his gauntlets are sharp little spikes to increase the impact of when he decides to punch a enemy. Most often he will also carry an steel axe that he uses for a very simple strategy. You hook shield with axe, you pull on axe, he stab with sword. Opponent dies.
He has a set of plate armour which many joke that he sleeps in, he tryed to before but he woke up the next morn with sore muscles so had to stop. It consists of a steel breastplate with two designed paldrons, One is in the shape of a dragon head, he has a matching one but it has been replaced by a stag head. He wears steel gauntlets and boots which are always polished, he does not see the point in it as they get covered in blood but he receives unhappy complaints from the queen the time when he preformed guard duty in bloodstained armour. Reguardless he wears a cloth cloak with the queens banner stiched onto it. Also his breastplate and weapons also have the emblem etched into them.
Extra: When I say Outpost, I do not mean a castle. I mean like mainly a camp with woodern fortifications. If you need help visualizing look up orcish strongholds from Skyrim for reference.
"Just how I like em, lying on the floor dead."
Full name: Llywelyn the Bastard
Titles: Crimsonblade, Draig (Title given to him by the welsh devision that he is head of.)
Rank: Stag
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Personality: He has what will later be known as bipolar disorder, he will usually be one moment very cheerful and the next very serious. In terms of respect, he believes that skill, not what side they are on is what it should be earned by. And by skill he means skill in battle. He is often called a drunk due to his past but these days his tolerance of the drug usually just means he is more cheerful.
Althrough he has a natural respect for his comrades, if he believes one is dragging down the name of the Iron Company, he will challenge them to a fight.
He does not have much of a opinion of the queen as he only served a week before leaving for wales, In his opinion on the situation is that it provides good pay and a stable headquarters. Also with the prospects of it allowing the Company to expand and become a larger presense often makes him side with the deal.
History: Originally coming from Wales, he lived there for a long time of his life and so learned the language fluently, he was a boy at the age of nine when he moved so never had a job or apprenticeship.
He was a blacksmiths apprentice for much of his life when he moved into the country and learned to forge there, he usually prefers to forge his own equipment as a result. During the bloody revolution. His village was burnt to the ground. He gathered whatever strands remained and went off looking for better circumstances.
He was starving and dying from dehydration when he was found by the iron company. They taught him how to fight and defend himself. He is often grateful to them for his life so believes that ever since that day, the company took his life and so he will fight until his last breath for them. He was trained with a group of nine others until the time came for him to prove himself in combat. He was called into a battle agaisnt a large bandit group. He fought bravely and often found himself in the thick of conflict, during that battle he sustained an arrow in his arm but ignored it for the scale of the battle, luckly the arrow never broke so a clean removal was preformed after the battle.
As he was from Wales originally and fluent in its language, he was sent on a mission to start a garrison there. It was a sucess and futher helped to strengthen the reputation of the guild. He is often called by the title of "Draig" by the welsh group of soildiers that acompanied him back. The reason for his return is due to his promotion to stag after the old stag was killed. As such he is the advisor and subordinate of the Bear. However he has no wish to rise to any higher rank in the future as he would dispise being ladened down by the responsibilities of the running of the guild even more than he already is.
Skills: He is a skilled swordsmen and leader, he oversaw the creation of a outpost in his welsh homelands and would always stand at the very front of his men, He is a skilled armorer and smithy to the point that he is often called upon to inspect the qualities of weapons by many soldiers. He has taught himself to read so that he may rummage through books for information and not have to relie on having his letters read aloud for all to hear.
During his time in the Welsh outpost, he learned to shoot and make a longbow, he has a like for the weapon and has a natural skill for the weapon.
His combat tactic is to use his axe to pull away a shield to leave them open and then slice with his sword.
Dreams and fears: He has a obsession with dragons and so before the company became the queens guard, he would often tail up rumors of the beasts.
Favored equipment: He usually has a sword which has the queens emblem sketched into the blade, a simple leather scabbard is wheee it hangs at his waist. On his gauntlets are sharp little spikes to increase the impact of when he decides to punch a enemy. Most often he will also carry an steel axe that he uses for a very simple strategy. You hook shield with axe, you pull on axe, he stab with sword. Opponent dies.
He has a set of plate armour which many joke that he sleeps in, he tryed to before but he woke up the next morn with sore muscles so had to stop. It consists of a steel breastplate with two designed paldrons, One is in the shape of a dragon head, he has a matching one but it has been replaced by a stag head. He wears steel gauntlets and boots which are always polished, he does not see the point in it as they get covered in blood but he receives unhappy complaints from the queen the time when he preformed guard duty in bloodstained armour. Reguardless he wears a cloth cloak with the queens banner stiched onto it. Also his breastplate and weapons also have the emblem etched into them.
Extra: When I say Outpost, I do not mean a castle. I mean like mainly a camp with woodern fortifications. If you need help visualizing look up orcish strongholds from Skyrim for reference.
Appearance: 
Name: Lewis Morte
Age: 17
Unique Quality: He can with touch of his left hand on someone elses flesh, take part of someones lifeforce, this has the result of making him more energetic and alert but also the person becomes more tired.
Weakness: He suffers from post trumatic event disorder where fragments of a past he has forgotten had brought down guilt and sorrow on him from a very young age. Which affects him today. This means that he distrusts himself so often will wear a white glove on his left hand.
Also in his sleeps he increasingly often experiences horrific livid nightmares that only help to break his bond with sanity as he can not tell the difference between the real world and his nightmares.
Along when he sleeps, he will basically die, his pulse will flatline and he will be almost oblivious to outside stimuli. This has risks as people will asume him dead and could preform burial rights on him, like Cremation or simple burying him, leading to him suffocating when he awakes. He is not aware of this feature unless someone tells him however.
Extras(Backstory from his PoV)
I can remember the nights, the nights when I was left alone. Alone, shaking in my cot as the doctors walked past us all, they would choose one and that person would be taken, the nurses would smile and say they were being brought home. I had asked why I could not go back.
I remember nothing of home, nothing but tears, smoke and death. Prehaps it had been a dream, no that was before.
I remember my turn, I remember screaning and grabbing the bedpost. I remember the cool fiery needle being injected and my body going slack. The rest was just haze, I was tired, so very tired. So I slept.
I remember feeling feeling a hand touch my wrist, I remember the gruff voice comment "No pulse." and walk away.
I remember smoke, fire and noise, noise of lives being cut short.
I remember coughing, sitting up and looking around, the man saw me get up and spoke to no one around him, I remember it confusing me. People all crowded me, I remember how they offered me water and told me not to move. Then once I was seen as okay, I remember the black gloved hand grip my arm.
Now I am locked in here, I find company with all the things around me, They say if It never happened. I would be normal, I would be home.
All I have to keep me company is mere pieces of card with sketchs of designs on them. The doctor said that they would help me focus, so he taugh me to play with them. He won, he always won but it was for the time it lasted, enjoyable. Then he deemed me as a lost cause. Deviant. A freak.
But I'm perfectly normal, there is nothing wrong with me.
I want to go home.
Name: Lewis Morte
Age: 17
Unique Quality: He can with touch of his left hand on someone elses flesh, take part of someones lifeforce, this has the result of making him more energetic and alert but also the person becomes more tired.
Weakness: He suffers from post trumatic event disorder where fragments of a past he has forgotten had brought down guilt and sorrow on him from a very young age. Which affects him today. This means that he distrusts himself so often will wear a white glove on his left hand.
Also in his sleeps he increasingly often experiences horrific livid nightmares that only help to break his bond with sanity as he can not tell the difference between the real world and his nightmares.
Along when he sleeps, he will basically die, his pulse will flatline and he will be almost oblivious to outside stimuli. This has risks as people will asume him dead and could preform burial rights on him, like Cremation or simple burying him, leading to him suffocating when he awakes. He is not aware of this feature unless someone tells him however.
Extras(Backstory from his PoV)
I can remember the nights, the nights when I was left alone. Alone, shaking in my cot as the doctors walked past us all, they would choose one and that person would be taken, the nurses would smile and say they were being brought home. I had asked why I could not go back.
I remember nothing of home, nothing but tears, smoke and death. Prehaps it had been a dream, no that was before.
I remember my turn, I remember screaning and grabbing the bedpost. I remember the cool fiery needle being injected and my body going slack. The rest was just haze, I was tired, so very tired. So I slept.
I remember feeling feeling a hand touch my wrist, I remember the gruff voice comment "No pulse." and walk away.
I remember smoke, fire and noise, noise of lives being cut short.
I remember coughing, sitting up and looking around, the man saw me get up and spoke to no one around him, I remember it confusing me. People all crowded me, I remember how they offered me water and told me not to move. Then once I was seen as okay, I remember the black gloved hand grip my arm.
Now I am locked in here, I find company with all the things around me, They say if It never happened. I would be normal, I would be home.
All I have to keep me company is mere pieces of card with sketchs of designs on them. The doctor said that they would help me focus, so he taugh me to play with them. He won, he always won but it was for the time it lasted, enjoyable. Then he deemed me as a lost cause. Deviant. A freak.
But I'm perfectly normal, there is nothing wrong with me.
I want to go home.
Sure, I will change him so that he has a positive ability, Also the death sleep will be mutated and the small errors I noticed will be fixed.
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