Three Five

HALT! The not so glorius life of the City Guard.

As a heads-up, I am going to be gone until Monday so I won't be able to post until after that.

HALT! The not so glorius life of the City Guard.

Stinky Warlock Grull, whatever a Grull is.

@Hellis

I added info in a hider about grull when I posted his sheet on the character page. I hope that is enough. If not, I can add more!

HALT! The not so glorius life of the City Guard.

Dregg

Name:
Dregg

Race:
Grull

Info about grull

(From the Drakan wiki)
Grulls are short, hunched beings with large heads. They resemble grotesquely mutated humanoid pigs, similar to standard swine. Short in stature, with limited intellect, they make up for lack of various attributes through numbers and sheer brutality. Grull society is relatively unknown, although it has been noted they have some form of religion, Shamans or Dark Wizards of a sort among their numbers, forming a primitive hierarchy.

Many grull clothe themselves in kilts, and very rarely chainmail or other light armor.

Appearance:

Fullbody

Age:
35

Skill:
Being a warlock, Dregg obtains some minor abilities from a powerful demon. Unfortunately, the only demon who gave him the time of day was a lowly demon of little consequence known as Detritus the Unseemly, who was, in fact, a trash demon. Having one’s patron be a trash demon is not entirely without its perks however, and Dregg reaps the benefits of superior trash-picking with a special increase in lucky finds and a knowledge of which discarded items are of value. A less desirable “blessing” from his rank demon patron is a decidedly stenchful bouquet about his person, which can at times be so bad as to clear a room. As a Grull, he personally does not really mind it, but it can make it difficult for him to be seated at the tavern and definitely puts a damper on socialization with beings of the “higher class.”

Former Profession:
Due to his precious gift of trash-picking magic from Detritus, Dregg was a garbage collector. Many would be disappointed with this lifestyle and the “curse” of being a trash warlock, but not Dregg. After all, many a time he has found countless treasures from his dumpster-diving adventures, including but not limited to a shoddy Battleaxe of Tickling, an entire bag of only slightly moldy sweet rolls, and a children’s nursery rhyme book that was possessed by at least three very vulgar ghosts.

Personality:
Unsurprisingly, Dregg is definitely not what one would consider the epitome of class. He is more than a little uncouth, rather blunt, loud, and a bit rude, though often without intending to be.
Having a relatively small brain and coming from a culture of stereotypically ruthless brutes has not fostered much intellectual curiosity or even much in the way of brain activity in Dregg. He does not speak particularly eloquently, and indeed, this is often a point of embarrassment for the grull. While not being the sharpest tool in the shed, Dregg is not without street smarts, which he uses to keep out of a great deal of trouble in a crime-infested city such as Kings Knell.

Dregg is quite easily angered, but is not as violent as his grull brethren. He usually just loses his ability to speak and grunts angrily. Tantrums are not uncommon.

History:

Dregg’s story does not begin in any traditional way, nor is it particularly exciting. No, he wasn’t the piteous bullied runt of the bunch, nor was he the “best and the strongest,” as many of these tales do begin. Dregg was your average everyday Grull kid, slopping about in the mud, kicking bunnies, eating dragonflies, and trying desperately to show off to his friends by doing mind-numbingly stupid things that almost guaranteed he would not live past the age of 12. But live past 12 he did — by some miracle. In fact, it was in his 13th year that his story really began.

Dregg and his motley crew of hoodlum friends were gallivanting around the refuse dump near the grull city of Gargflak. The youngsters had skittered up a tall mountain of rotting food and bones, and at the summit they decided on a test of balancing skill, mixed of course with a little good-natured senseless violence. They wanted to see who could stand on one foot at the summit and manage to keep still while being beaten over the head with very large sticks by the rest of the group (grull were known to have very thick skulls and prided themselves on being able to take large blows to the head).

Not wanting to appear a weakling, Dregg stepped up to be the first volunteer. After about six blows, one caught his clean in the face and sent him tumbling down the mountain of trash. Shrill laughter from his friends filled the air, but soon stopped suddenly and was replaced with frightened grunts and screeches as the trash mountain began to shudder and become unstable. Dreg slowly freed himself out of a barrel of spoiled rat meat and pickles (when fresh, a delicacy among grull), and watched the retreating backs of his so-called friends. He really began to worry when the mountain trembled so much that it seemed it was about to fall in on itself, so he hid his eyes, resigned to his fate.

“Dude, your friends are kind of jerks.” a voice sounded from nowhere.

“EH? WHO DERE?” Dregg managed to utter, still shocked.

“Not the most eloquent one, are you? Well, I suppose I did choose to set up here at a grull camp. What did I expect?” A smooth, grey-bodied creature shuffled its way out of the refuse with its scrappy claw-like fingers and blinked its large red eyes in the bright sunlight. It shook its head and pulled a stray fruit peel from its sizable bat-like ears. “I’ll save you the trouble of asking. I’m Detritus the Unseemly, master of this garbage hill, blah, blah blah.” He twirled his hand idly in the air as he spoke, betraying his utter boredom with the situation. “ I am going to cut to the chase here. I am a trash demon and I can bestow upon you great powers and be your patron. You’ve just gotta like, sell your soul to me for all eternity and stuff.” He spoke the last sentence with such speed that it was barely understandable, especially to a slow-witted grull. “Whaddaya say?”

Dregg’s eyes widened. He could obtain great powers from this demon? Now that would guarantee some cool-points from his friends, definitely. And hey, maybe he could set that idiot Olak’s ears on fire for making fun of his kilt. Eager to be blessed with great power, the young grull nodded his head emphatically. That was all Detritus needed, and a blinding light suddenly surrounded him. And from that point on he was a trash warlock.

What did I say? Not particularly exciting, but Dregg always enjoys telling (and enriching) the tale. From then on, he decided to leave his little town of Gargflak and see the garbage dumps of the world, his new-found patron and friend by his side.

This is how he came to Kings Knell. He drifted in and found himself unable to make a living the usual way grull do (murdering, kidnapping, etc), so he took his patron’s suggestion to be a garbage collector for the city. He got fairly decent wages and a spiffy uniform. What more could he want? Years passed, and Dregg was a happy grull, and slightly more educated thanks to his patron and the various books he found in the garbage.

One fateful day, when taking out the trash behind Blagor’s Bakery, Dregg scored a rather large bag of moldy sweetrolls. Not moments later, an angry elf rushed at him and demanded that he return the pastries. Dregg was not about to give up such a tasty prize and reiterated that he found them in the trash and did not steal them. The elf carried on for several minutes about a thief, then fetched a nearby guard.

“Let me guess, someone stole your sweetroll?” the guard asked with annoyance in a rather mocking tone, as if he had dealt with this particular situation in the past about a thousand times. “Look, I am getting tired of you elves thinking every grubby-looking orc has stolen something from you. You pretty boys are really getting on my nerves.”

“Pretty boy?” the elf repeated in utter horror, “I am not going to stand here an let you talk to me like that!” He raised his hand in threat, but did not look as if he knew how to follow through or was still deciding if it was worth it. Sensing danger, and not wanting to get tangled up with the guard, Dregg threw the bag of rolls at the elf, expecting him to catch it. Catch them the elf did — right in the face. The blow, combined with the fact he was not expecting it, caused the elf to stumbled backward and fall into the open refuse bin Dregg had just been working in.

“Well, I’ll be!” the guard exclaimed, quite impressed by the little grull’s spunk. The man felt Dregg threw the bag as an attempt to protect him, and recalled the guard was offering incentives for recruiters. This could be his ticket to a week off to visit the super hot gold elves on one of their beaches. “Hey buddy,” the guard murmured to Dregg, “You ever thought about joining the guard?”

Other:
Grull are not particularly common in Kings Knell, and many residents mistakenly refer to Dregg as an incredibly short orc, or a mutated goblin much to his annoyance. Though it may be hard to believe, with his departure from his people, Dregg is very proud of his heritage and culture and gets annoyed at its erasure in Kings Knell.

HALT! The not so glorius life of the City Guard.

@Hellis Oh, sorry about that. I got so caught up in writing his story that I overlooked that. I'll add it to his sheet.

HALT! The not so glorius life of the City Guard.

Oh man, this sounds like the RP I have been waiting for! Are you still accepting @Hellis?

I have a super sick idea for a grull warlock. Grull are from Drakan, and are kind of pig-like goblins.

EDIT: Here he is! I, uh, kind of went overboard on his history. Sorry about that.

Dregg

Character Sheet
Name: Dregg
Race: Grull

Appearance:


Age: 35

Skill: Being a warlock, Dregg obtains some minor abilities from a powerful demon. Unfortunately, the only demon who gave him the time of day was a lowly demon of little consequence known as Detritus the Unseemly, who was, in fact, a trash demon. Having one’s patron be a trash demon is not entirely without its perks however, and Dregg reaps the benefits of superior trash-picking with a special increase in lucky finds and a knowledge of which discarded items are of value. A less desirable “blessing” from his rank demon patron is a decidedly stenchful bouquet about his person, which can at times be so bad as to clear a room. As a Grull, he personally does not really mind it, but it can make it difficult for him to be seated at the tavern and definitely puts a damper on socialization with beings of the “higher class.”

Former Profession: Due to his precious gift of trash-picking magic from Detritus, Dregg was a garbage collector. Many would be disappointed with this lifestyle and the “curse” of being a trash warlock, but not Dregg. After all, many a time he has found countless treasures from his dumpster-diving adventures, including but not limited to a shoddy Battleaxe of Tickling, an entire bag of only slightly moldy sweet rolls, and a children’s nursery rhyme book that was possessed by at least three very vulgar ghosts.

Personality: Unsurprisingly, Dregg is definitely not what one would consider the epitome of class. He is more than a little uncouth, rather blunt, loud, and a bit rude, though often without intending to be.
Having a relatively small brain and coming from a culture of stereotypically ruthless brutes has not fostered much intellectual curiosity or even much in the way of brain activity in Dregg. He does not speak particularly eloquently, and indeed, this is often a point of embarrassment for the grull. While not being the sharpest tool in the shed, Dregg is not without street smarts, which he uses to keep out of a great deal of trouble in a crime-infested city such as Kings Knell.

Dregg is quite easily angered, but is not as violent as his grull brethren. He usually just loses his ability to speak and grunts angrily. Tantrums are not uncommon.

History:

Dregg’s story does not begin in any traditional way, nor is it particularly exciting. No, he wasn’t the piteous bullied runt of the bunch, nor was he the “best and the strongest,” as many of these tales do begin. Dregg was your average everyday Grull kid, slopping about in the mud, kicking bunnies, eating dragonflies, and trying desperately to show off to his friends by doing mind-numbingly stupid things that almost guaranteed he would not live past the age of 12. But live past 12 he did — by some miracle. In fact, it was in his 13th year that his story really began.

Dregg and his motley crew of hoodlum friends were gallivanting around the refuse dump near the grull city of Gargflak. The youngsters had skittered up a tall mountain of rotting food and bones, and at the summit they decided on a test of balancing skill, mixed of course with a little good-natured senseless violence. They wanted to see who could stand on one foot at the summit and manage to keep still while being beaten over the head with very large sticks by the rest of the group (grull were known to have very thick skulls and prided themselves on being able to take large blows to the head).

Not wanting to appear a weakling, Dregg stepped up to be the first volunteer. After about six blows, one caught his clean in the face and sent him tumbling down the mountain of trash. Shrill laughter from his friends filled the air, but soon stopped suddenly and was replaced with frightened grunts and screeches as the trash mountain began to shudder and become unstable. Dreg slowly freed himself out of a barrel of spoiled rat meat and pickles (when fresh, a delicacy among grull), and watched the retreating backs of his so-called friends. He really began to worry when the mountain trembled so much that it seemed it was about to fall in on itself, so he hid his eyes, resigned to his fate.

“Dude, your friends are kind of jerks.” a voice sounded from nowhere.

“Eh? Who dere?” Dregg managed to utter, still shocked.

“Not the most eloquent one, are you? Well, I suppose I did choose to set up here at a grull camp. What did I expect?” A smooth, grey-bodied creature shuffled its way out of the refuse with its scrappy claw-like fingers and blinked its large red eyes in the bright sunlight. It shook its head and pulled a stray fruit peel from its sizable bat-like ears. “I’ll save you the trouble of asking. I’m Detritus the Unseemly, master of this garbage hill, blah, blah blah.” He twirled his hand idly in the air as he spoke, betraying his utter boredom with the situation. “ I am going to cut to the chase here. I am a trash demon and I can bestow upon you great powers and be your patron. You’ve just gotta like, sell your soul to me for all eternity and stuff.” He spoke the last sentence with such speed that it was barely understandable, especially to a slow-witted grull. “Whaddaya say?”

Dregg’s eyes widened. He could obtain great powers from this demon? Now that would guarantee some cool-points from his friends, definitely. And hey, maybe he could set that idiot Olak’s ears on fire for making fun of his kilt. Eager to be blessed with great power, the young grull nodded his head emphatically. That was all Detritus needed, and a blinding light suddenly surrounded him. And from that point on he was a trash warlock.

What did I say? Not particularly exciting, but Dregg always enjoys telling (and enriching) the tale. From then on, he decided to leave his little town of Gargflak and see the garbage dumps of the world, his new-found patron and friend by his side.

This is how he came to Kings Knell. He drifted in and found himself unable to make a living the usual way grull do (murdering, kidnapping, etc), so he took his patron’s suggestion to be a garbage collector for the city. He got fairly decent wages and a spiffy uniform. What more could he want? Years passed, and Dregg was a happy grull, and slightly more educated thanks to his patron and the various books he found in the garbage.

One fateful day, when taking out the trash behind Blagor’s Bakery, Dregg scored a rather large bag of moldy sweetrolls. Not moments later, an angry elf rushed at him and demanded that he return the pastries. Dregg was not about to give up such a tasty prize and reiterated that he found them in the trash and did not steal them. The elf carried on for several minutes about a thief, then fetched a nearby guard.

“Let me guess, someone stole your sweetroll?” the guard asked with annoyance in a rather mocking tone, as if he had dealt with this particular situation in the past about a thousand times. “Look, I am getting tired of you elves thinking every grubby-looking orc has stolen something from you. You pretty boys are really getting on my nerves.”

“Pretty boy?” the elf repeated in utter horror, “I am not going to stand here an let you talk to me like that!” He raised his hand in threat, but did not look as if he knew how to follow through or was still deciding if it was worth it. Sensing danger, and not wanting to get tangled up with the guard, Dregg threw the bag of rolls at the elf, expecting him to catch it. Catch them the elf did — right in the face. The blow, combined with the fact he was not expecting it, caused the elf to stumbled backward and fall into the open refuse bin Dregg had just been working in.

“Well, I’ll be!” the guard exclaimed, quite impressed by the little grull’s spunk. The man felt Dregg threw the bag as an attempt to protect him, and recalled the guard was offering incentives for recruiters. This could be his ticket to a week off to visit the super hot gold elves on one of their beaches. “Hey buddy,” the guard murmured to Dregg, “You ever thought about joining the guard?”

Other:
Grull are not particularly common in Kings Knell, and many residents mistakenly refer to Dregg as an incredibly short orc, or a mutated goblin much to his annoyance. Though it may be hard to believe, with his departure from his people, Dregg is very proud of his heritage and culture and gets annoyed at its erasure in Kings Knell.

Star Wars: A Stormtrooper's Tale.

I have to admit that with work and everything, I really have't felt up to writing recently and I fear I may have to drop out of this rp. I was all excited about playing as my old man clone, but I've just felt such a lack of motivation for everything recently and don't want to bog others down with my slow replies.

I apologize to everyone and hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience.

Star Wars: A Stormtrooper's Tale.

As a heads-up, I will be without Internet today until Tuesday, so there will be radio silence from me until then.

VR Doomed! - A Comedy Roleplay

The scientists who have so generously offered the general public a once-in-a-lifetime offer sadly must recind their offer due to a lack of interest. We can't keep our business afloat without warm bodies interest from lovely people like you!

So, unless more than two people are foolish enough to accept are interested, the scientists will have to close up shop and take their lovely prizes elsewhere.

Star Wars: A Stormtrooper's Tale.

A bite to eat is all he wanted. He didn’t think it was asking too much, but apparently it was. He was used to non-clones muttering something under their breath or calling him “copy” or other such things, but every now and then you got a cocky asshole like this one who, possibly in an attempt to show off to his comrades, feels the need to demonstrate his incredible bravery by abusing a man probably twice his own age.

Despite his incredible urge to punch this cocky trooper clean in the face, he decided not to get involved in the conflict the heavy trooper was so desperately trying to coax out of him. Further, having learned from experience during his many years of training on Kamino that insubordination and breaking rules was wholly frowned upon (he swore that “behavioral readjustment” droid left a scar or two), he decided against sitting at the offending trooper’s table just to irk him and seated himself at the table on the far side of the hall that he frequented.

During the Clone Wars, troopers generally shuffled into their own little groups in the mess hall, squads and those of similar rank usually choosing to sit together. Now instead of a natural separation, it felt downright segregated, with clones and non-humans sitting far from the human enlisted. The Empire being the way it was, that is to say not the most loving and accepting of governments, this separation was almost enforced. Though all species could enlist in the Imperial Army, the xenophobia among its human-dominated permeated all aspects of life like a sour smell.

It seemed to be getting harder and harder to get about on a daily basis without hearing a bitter remark under someone’s breath, being called out in training, or otherwise being belittled in some way. This was especially true in the mess hall when alcohol loosened everyone’s proverbial ties and coaxed the tongue to express the things the sober mind often restrained.

Velker recalled when the mess hall was filled with his brothers. Sure, back then it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine either. Harsh words were exchanged and fights broke out every now and then. Hell, “every now and then” was a huge understatement whenever ARCS were around. Those guys were known to have a superiority complex and the lower-ranked troopers often had no trouble expressing their distaste at their behavior, especially since it was just random chance that they were bred to be elite. Despite all these disagreements, in those days he never felt such an immense rift between comrades that rumbled below the surface of nearly every interaction nowadays. Sure, there was acidity tinging the words and anger behind every punch, but never such unbridled, biting hatred. After all, they were all brothers then. Those days were definitely gone. Here were the days of dodging more cigarette butts than bullets. He never thought he’d see the day.

Star Wars: A Stormtrooper's Tale.

Sounds good. Maybe I'll just pick it up there and use that opportunity. I'll see what other ideas I get after work today. :)

EDIT: Wrote up part of a post, but I'm really not feeling it. I'll try again tomorrow.