Turbowraith

Cuccoruler and Turbowraith

Wonderful! Well, first thing to consider is how they'd meet for said mission. Perhaps Feon would meet Kol'Rakul while on said mission, since he is more of a wanderer than a soldier for hire. Perhaps we could write up an interesting in-medias-res scenario and whatnot. Personally, I think it'd be much cooler than a typical "be gathered by a third party, meet there, go into quest" sort of deal.

A Good Old Dungeon Spelunk (Full currently, check back later!)

Before the gnome official could answer, a presence appeared from within the foliage. Black-cloaked and full of greenery, it came to a clumsy halt before the gathering party. At first, the man was weary of such a shady figure, but as it neared, and the face of a joyous young woman became visible, it once again calmed him down. After reporting to the advisor, it seemed that she turned toward him, fiddling with her hood as she did.

"AH, GREETINGS, IVORY ONE. INDEED, I AM THE AXEMAN, KOL'RAKUL, AND I TOO SHALL DELVE WITHIN THE CRYPT!-" A big, goofy grin creeped up on the barbarian's face as he momentarily looked away. Words of kindness could often make him blush. "I- HAH, SHALL DO MY BEST, IF NOTHING ELSE. THOUGH IT SEEMS I AM AMONG EQUALS IN SKILL." The Axeman exclaimed, as he carefully observed the newcomer. The continuous squinting, despite the early hour, and somewhat unnatural color made him vaguely suspect her being more than she appeared, but he quickly ceased such thoughts, as it was a matter not for him to judge. Yet, he could not help but give the hooded one a sly wink as he finished talking.

Not a moment after the barbarian had turned back at the gnome, a wheelbarrow approached the ever-growing group, it's master hailing from afar. As the contraption came closer, Kol'Rakul was surprised to see it drawn not by beasts, but by mechanical dogs! Their owner hopped off and as the Axeman was soon to discover, he was not unlike these wandering entertainers he usually came upon his journeys, though what he displayed far exceeded any of them.

Kol'Rakul marveled at the metallic hounds crackling with arcane energy, smiled at the sight of the small sentient crossbows, and wondered where and how one could find and tame such a chest. Even the minuscule shadowy creature amused him, though he nervously clutched his axe a tad tighter than usual after hearing of its' tendency to steal shiny things. He had only recently cleaned it, after all. Once the display was over, the towering man let loose a roaring laugh and clapped vigorously. "WHAT A WONDROUS SHOW, RINGLEADER!"

And, just as the parade of exotic contraptions was over, more adventurers began to flood the scene. A Vaulter followed. The Axeman had heard tales of them, intrepid explorers emerging from their underground home, intent on gathering stories and knowledge, not unlike Kol'Rakul himself. He gave the man a solemn nod of acknowledgement before his eye caught another most peculiar creature, one that resembled an owl-man, with impressive feathers at that. His eyes quickly widened as he extended his hand in greeting. Indeed, the barbarian had formed friendships with a travelling group of said people, and had even wandered close to a village, once. "HAIL FIERCE KENKU! HOW GOES YOUR TRIBE! AND WHAT GLORIOUS PLUMAGE!"

Yet, just when everyone seemed to have arrived, he heard a familiar voice behind him. It was the fiery monk with an attitude to match. Oh, how could he forget. Truth be told, despite the constant friction between them, the Axeman had grown to like her temperament, as well as respect her fighting spirit. And despite all that, Kol'Rakul knew that this girl was troubled, and something truly vile gnawed at her. Facing her with fists against his waist, he yelled in a cheeky manner. "THEN I DREAD TO IMAGINE HOW SHARP AN AXE MY PERSONALITY MUST HAVE TO SLAY ME IN COMBAT. ALSO, I DON'T SEE ANY CHAINS ON YOU TO 'KEEP ME IN LINE'! HAW-HAW! COME HERE YOU NAGGING RASCAL!" He raised two burly arms for a hug, one still holding onto the axe, though he was unable to come closer, as his thoughts were interrupted by the wizard's speech.

Ah, the party would be split, interesting. Kol'Rakul was fine either way. Glorious combat was always around the corner either way, and cooperating to defend this city's people was, after all a priority. Seeing as there were still more to arrive, the Axeman did not speak up, and chose to rather wait for the entire party to form up and discuss it, and socialize in the meantime. His version of socializing was, of course, to sit upon the grass where he stood on, unscrew his massive mead horn, retrieve a whole bunch of cloth-wrapped meatbread rations and lay them next to him for a crude pic-nick, open for all to join.

A Good Old Dungeon Spelunk (Full currently, check back later!)

The sound of heavy and fast-paced footsteps resounded through the clearing. Through the brush and branches, the silhouette of a massive, impossibly well-built man neared, as he cheerfully sang a strange north-folk's song, nearly at the top of his lungs. His gait revealed his demeanor, and his demeanor was as cheerful as it could get. Yet, something was amiss. And that something was a trail of blood, the trickling originating near an object hanging from the barbarian's belt. As he neared, a wide, honest grin became visible on the northener's squared face, and two glazed over eyes twinkled beneath the shadows cast by the forest.

They were not his, however, but rather belonged to the severed head hanging on his hip. The barbarian's eyes were in fact closed, as he was deeply immersed in his this foreign tune of his. He quickly regained his composure though, after almost tripping on a rather sizable pebble, once again peered at the world around him. Quickly noticing the gnome he was supposed to meet, he quickened his pace, as it is never acceptable to leave one who you've stricken a pact with waiting, though that had the ill side-effect of making the head's tongue exit its' mouth and dangle freely.

Once he had found himself near the gnome, he halted, and respectfully greeted him, as he placed his massive axe head-down, and slightly leaned on it.

"HAIL MIGHTY WIZARD. IT IS I, THE AXEMAN, KOL'RAKUL, AND I HAVE COME TO PLEDGE MY WEAPON TO YOUR CAUSE AS REQUESTED. LONG LIVE YOUR KING AND CITY."

Noticing that due to his posture, blood had began to trickle down his leg, he untangled the trophy's hair from his belt and let it fall to the dirt. It rolled in the grass a few times, inching closer towards the gnome, before stopping, limp as always, with its' tongue still hanging out of a mouth filled with rotten, blackened teeth.

"DO NOT BE TAKEN ABACK, WISE GNOME, FOR THIS ONE WAS FROM A BANDIT, SO EAGER TO TEST HIS GROUP'S METTLE AGAINST UNSUSPECTING TRAVELERS. I HAVE BROUGHT HIM BACK, SO AS TO BE IDENTIFIED BY AUTHORITIES. YOU MAY LAY CLAIM TO THIS TROPHY. YES, THE AXEMAN BRINGS A GIFT OF GOOD WILL, HO-HO!"

Ah, the day was already off to a great start, and that raised Kol'Rakul's spirits. It always warmed his heart to see eager members of the court take up action against the forces that threatened their subjects, and this gnome seemed no exception. Whatever was coming, he was determined to face it.

Hellscapers! [PRETTY MUCH ALWAYS ACCEPTING EXCEPT WHEN WE HAVE TEN PEOPLE (WE DON'T)!]

With the gigantic Mayancatec moving to another room, Grog felt his itch grow. So many prisoners rioting and not a single one of them had buckshot up the ass. Nervously stroking the trigger guards, he was half-tempted to just start spraying at anything remotely hostile. Yet again, however, his thought train came to a halt as he bore witness to Old N, the mushroom crab lying flat on the ground. For something to knock the seafood equivalent of a battering ram, he had to be one tough honkey. Oh, and look at that! A couple of guards were still-

A chunk of table hit him square in the face. Well, it was just swung back by Kali-Ma dude and thrown, and his makeshift protection gear spared him from any serious harm, but a bloody nose and lip were unavoidable. Springing his head back up and shaking off the momentary daze, he had just managed to gurgle a confused "Hey, watch it you fuck!" Before a couple of very interesting (and very unharmed) characters waltzed into the immediate area. One of them seemed like a typical security guard, while the other... The other looked like the big cheese. The head honcho. The stranger dange- Wait that last one made no sense.

Whatever the case, the masked marauder quickly sprang back into action and exclaimed, somewhat taken aback: " Uh... 'Prave. We've got company!"

Not caring whether or not the massive tribesguy was ready to start wrecking shit or not, Grog hung one shotgun from his utility belt, briefly, and began patting his numerous pouches for any leftover tricks. What he found was a triplet of his trusty nailbombs. Ah, a classic, those were. Little golf ball sized instruments of death they were, covered by nails and anything similar, and filled with whatever most explosive Grog had at the time. But, what was that? A tiny little knickknack had eluded him. No bigger than a pinky finger, it was... A Fucksville syringe. The single most potent (and only actually functional) combat drug he'd ever made. He wondered if he should give it to Deprave instead, but seeing bullets had bounced off him, a measly needle wouldn't even penetrate his eyeball. Whatever the case, Grog hastily unzipped his jacket and stuck the syringe through his shirt, and in to his chest.

In a few heartbeats, the effects began to take place. His pupils widened, he could no longer feel the burning sensation on what remained of his pelvis, and his thoughts raced. Sped up. He was faster, more precise, and the world was slower. Also he felt his mouth begin to foam, but that was just a minor side-effect, right? His eyes darted between the seriously pissed off monster and the fleeing guard. The former caught Grog's attention a tad more. He leaned forward, and leering at the half-demon he rasped.

"Hey, hey. Hey you. I burned my dick off. And now I'm comin' for yours."

A Good Old Dungeon Spelunk (Full currently, check back later!)

@Banana The Axeman shall go wherever the noble gnome wizard instructs him.

Because that's the honorable thing to do.

A Good Old Dungeon Spelunk (Full currently, check back later!)

Kol'Rakul

In the days of Dungeons,
Evil feared not the lance and sword,
Nor did it fear the Beasts of fire.
It feared...
THE AXEMAN

Character Name: Kol'Rakul, The Axeman

Race: Tall Dwarf

Gender: (axe)Man

Age: Early to Mid Twenties

Appearance: Coming soon!

Personality and Motivations: The Axeman is a stoic and driven individual, fueled by his desire for glorious combat, and the need to explore the world and taste all the sweetness freedom has to offer. Though quite eloquent for a barbarian, he is most certainly not above a good horn of mead with fine company, and his normally serious exterior can give way to bombastic bursts of behavior, if surrounded by people he enjoys being around with. Furthermore, he despises uncalled acts of evil and will go out of his way to help those in need. Though he may not take it upon himself to single-handedly dismantle a corrupt kingdom, he will most likely decapitate a gang of said king's enforcers.

It would only be natural for a drifter such as himself to find his way to Aleritos, and impossible to decline such a blatant call for aid. After all, there are plenty of monsters to slay, and a whole city to defend. Even if the reward is not to his liking, working towards improving the lives of this city's people will be more than worth it. Not to mention all of the chopped monsters.

Class and Alignment: Chaotic Good Barbarian

History:

Raised by a fierce and highly custom-oriented tribe in the far northern mountains, Kol'Rakul spent his early years as any happy boy his age, namely sparring with his brothers, and hunting for the village alongside its' warriors. Yet, as he grew, something gnawed at him. He yearned for more than the death of game and rival tribal warriors. The world was vast, unexplored and the tribe, even though homely, seemed more and more oppressive to him, and its' constant rivalry with other inhabitants of the north, unnecessary. When he was finally ten springs old, the young boy fled his village in secret, hiding in a barrel belonging to a passing trading caravan.

Ever since that day, Kol'Rakul has lived under the sky. As a thieving child at first, as a lone wanderer later. He has risked death atop the Windswept Tower of the west, helped defend a town against Vashian ragers in the east, witnessed the Siege of Kargamen and the March of a Thousand Brave, and heard the streams rolling through the Forgotten Forest's countless acres. Yet the most curious of his experiences was on a serene night on the swamps near Iridien.

Having camped for the night and readied himself for slumber, otherworldly chanting echoed across the marshland's rotten trees. Following the sound, he reached what seemed to be a hovel built against a small cave's opening, with firelight shining through its' planks and windows. Reluctantly entering, spear in hand, the barbarian was surprised to find the hovel's interiors resembling those of an ancient stone temple. Atop a short altar there rested an axe so perfect to Kol'Rakul's eyes, that he couldn't be helped but be drawn towards it. Yet, around the altar sat three old men, deep in a trance, chanting in unison. It was not until the furthermost sleepily opened his eyes and gazed at the intruder that the old men became aware of his presence. Calmly, they informed the barbarian on how they were expecting him, for years now, to answer their call and take up the Nameless Axe.

From that day on, and with such a perfect weapon, the wanderer developed his skill in combat even further, and even gained some reputation on the world's less civilized corners. It is said, that when the Axeman nears, noble hearts burn a bit brighter.

Equipment:

Clothes: A pair of sturdy leather pants and boots, a belt with a large buckle and a simple cloth shirt with its' sleeves torn off. Not much in the way of armor, but as Kol'Rakul always says while pointing at his chest, "I've got my armor right here."

Essentials: Traveler's gear, especially made to be secured on his belt. A water skin and a mead horn on his left side, a satchel full of basic supplies on the back, and a weather-resistant journal on his right.

The Nameless Axe: A masterwork of a weapon with hints of latent magical power, it never needs sharpening or care, and seems to be made by some unknown metal. It was said that once it spills enough blood, it will "awaken", and the way the last required blow will take place shall give it a name, define it, and by extent, its' wielder.

Skills and Spells:

Physical Powerhouse:
The Axeman is an excellent warrior, being close to the pinnacle of his one's bodily capabilities. Being among the mightiest Tall Dwarves one will come across, he is capable of performing amazing feats of strength and could even prove a match for naturally stronger races. That's not to say he's slow, though. In fact, his speed, both in mind and body, can prove to be a most lethal trait, allowing him to land numerous strikes with his normally heavy weapon in a short time and even dodge projectiles. Lastly, having spent a lifetime fighting and roaming the world, he has gained amazing durability, both against the elements of the great outdoors, and against more direct harm.

Brains and Brawn:
Unlike most barbarians, Kol'Rakul possesses a brain underneath his thick skull. Furthermore, while not academically smart, he is streetwise, and his numerous life experiences have resulted an impressive variety of general knowledge, as well as surprising wisdom. Moreover, his fighting style, although empirical, has been honed for almost a lifetime, and is tailored exactly to the barbarian's needs.

Miscellaneous:

A Good Old Dungeon Spelunk (Full currently, check back later!)

Hider

In the days of Dungeons,
Evil feared not the lance and sword,
Nor did it fear the Beasts of fire.
It feared...
THE AXEMAN

Character Name: Kol'Rakul, The Axeman

Race: Tall Dwarf

Gender: (axe)Man

Age: Early to Mid Twenties

Appearance: Coming soon!

Personality and Motivations: The Axeman is a stoic and driven individual, fueled by his desire for glorious combat, and the need to explore the world and taste all the sweetness freedom has to offer. Though quite eloquent for a barbarian, he is most certainly not above a good horn of mead with fine company, and his normally serious exterior can give way to bombastic bursts of behavior, if surrounded by people he enjoys being around with. Furthermore, he despises uncalled acts of evil and will go out of his way to help those in need. Though he may not take it upon himself to single-handedly dismantle a corrupt kingdom, he will most likely decapitate a gang of said king's enforcers.

It would only be natural for a drifter such as himself to find his way to Aleritos, and impossible to decline such a blatant call for aid. After all, there are plenty of monsters to slay, and a whole city to defend. Even if the reward is not to his liking, working towards improving the lives of this city's people will be more than worth it. Not to mention all of the chopped monsters.

Class and Alignment: Chaotic Good Barbarian

History:

Raised by a fierce and highly custom-oriented tribe in the far northern mountains, Kol'Rakul spent his early years as any happy boy his age, namely sparring with his brothers, and hunting for the village alongside its' warriors. Yet, as he grew, something gnawed at him. He yearned for more than the death of game and rival tribal warriors. The world was vast, unexplored and the tribe, even though homely, seemed more and more oppressive to him, and its' constant rivalry with other inhabitants of the north, unnecessary. When he was finally ten springs old, the young boy fled his village in secret, hiding in a barrel belonging to a passing trading caravan.

Ever since that day, Kol'Rakul has lived under the sky. As a thieving child at first, as a lone wanderer later. He has risked death atop the Windswept Tower of the west, helped defend a town against Vashian ragers in the east, witnessed the Siege of Kargamen and the March of a Thousand Brave, and heard the streams rolling through the Forgotten Forest's countless acres. Yet the most curious of his experiences was on a serene night on the swamps near Iridien.

Having camped for the night and readied himself for slumber, otherworldly chanting echoed across the marshland's rotten trees. Following the sound, he reached what seemed to be a hovel built against a small cave's opening, with firelight shining through its' planks and windows. Reluctantly entering, spear in hand, the barbarian was surprised to find the hovel's interiors resembling those of an ancient stone temple. Atop a short altar there rested an axe so perfect to Kol'Rakul's eyes, that he couldn't be helped but be drawn towards it. Yet, around the altar sat three old men, deep in a trance, chanting in unison. It was not until the furthermost sleepily opened his eyes and gazed at the intruder that the old men became aware of his presence. Calmly, they informed the barbarian on how they were expecting him, for years now, to answer their call and take up the Nameless Axe.

From that day on, and with such a perfect weapon, the wanderer developed his skill in combat even further, and even gained some reputation on the world's less civilized corners. It is said, that when the Axeman nears, noble hearts burn a bit brighter.

Equipment:

Clothes: A pair of sturdy leather pants and boots, a belt with a large buckle and a simple cloth shirt with its' sleeves torn off. Not much in the way of armor, but as Kol'Rakul always says while pointing at his chest, "I've got my armor right here."

Essentials: Traveler's gear, especially made to be secured on his belt. A water skin on his left side, a satchel full of basic supplies on the back, and a weather-resistant journal on his right.

The Nameless Axe: A masterwork of a weapon with hints of latent magical power, it never needs sharpening or care, and seems to be made by some unknown metal. It was said that once it spills enough blood, it will "awaken", and the way the last required blow will take place shall give it a name, define it, and by extent, its' wielder.

Skills and Spells:

Physical Powerhouse:
The Axeman is an excellent warrior, being close to the pinnacle of his one's bodily capabilities. Being among the mightiest Tall Dwarves one will come across, he is capable of performing amazing feats of strength and could even prove a match for naturally stronger races. That's not to say he's slow, though. In fact, his speed, both in mind and body, can prove to be a most lethal trait, allowing him to land numerous strikes with his normally heavy weapon in a short time and even dodge projectiles. Lastly, having spent a lifetime fighting and roaming the world, he has gained amazing durability, both against the elements of the great outdoors, and against more direct harm.

Brains and Brawn:
Unlike most barbarians, Kol'Rakul possesses a brain underneath his thick skull. Furthermore, while not academically smart, he is streetwise, and his numerous life experiences have resulted an impressive variety of general knowledge, as well as surprising wisdom. Moreover, his fighting style, although empirical, has been honed for almost a lifetime, and is tailored exactly to the barbarian's needs.

Miscellaneous:

Vampire the Masquerade

Ah, this is just great. Me and a friend have been looking for a Vampire game for quite a while.

A Good Old Dungeon Spelunk.

Oh wow, look at this interest check for a roleplay I was totally not informed of, GM'd by a person-fruit I've never seen before. Yes, I think I'll join the party as well. This is totally not a bump.

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

As long as the Skeleton can keep on bashing shit in the face you can COUNT ME THE EVER-SHITTING FUCK IN YOU COCKMONGLERS. LET'S DO THIS SHIT.