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6 mos ago
Current And maybe most people don't like getting a single line back in response to a few paragraphs? Like whatever floats your boat, but there's a reason Free exists.
4 likes
2 yrs ago
Hey now, he's becoming self-aware. Don't take that from him.
3 likes
2 yrs ago
If the man's is asking for a ban, might as well give it to him. Good riddance.
3 likes
2 yrs ago
Then you'd just be crying about why it's permanent instead.
2 yrs ago
Oh no, oh no. Someone warn his "roommate" Smarty's about to lose it.
7 likes

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Well edits have been made. Also taking the liberty of underlining actions Jorak takes that other people or characters would likely notice and perhaps react to.
Kay, I'll make the edits later tonight then.
It had taken Jorak longer than he wished to leave home, but ultimately he woke two days later since the dreams had began with preparations to leave the town complete. The hardest part had been to convince his parents that he was not on a fool’s task, which had been difficult when the dreams had clearly said to reveal nothing. The vagueness of his request had hampered his attempts, but his continued convictions had bore fruit the previous night.

As the night’s guards turned in for the morning, he took one last look at the flickering torches atop the wall before he ventured into the fog that shrouded Lorcrove. The heavy fog was enough to muffle the noises from his surroundings and though he headed away from the forest haunted by monsters and creatures, Jorak swept his head back and forth for any sign of danger. It took several hours of quick march for the fog to begin to recede and the mountains he had followed to be revealed. As wisps of mist rolled off him, unable to cling any longer, he sighed in relief at the warmer air around him.

With mountains to both sides of him, a quick check of the map confirmed that if Jorak were to cut through those directly in front then he would end up maybe a day’s march from Jerova. With the sun long out of sight thanks to the large landforms around him though, he decided to simply make camp for the moment and wait until tomorrow for the treacherous climb. With a bundle of firewood he had gathered from the forest since broke away from the treeline he settled down for the night.

The next day saw Jorak navigating in between two mountains through whatever paths he could find. The two landforms met about a quarter of the way up thankfully, meaning that he didn’t have to contend with the sheer cliffs that became present the higher one climbed. It was still a rather long journey, but he reached the other side just shortly after noon. From this high up he could see, far off in the distance, the shimmering waters of the lake Jeorva sat next to. The city was indistinct at this range, but it was easy to tell that Lorcrove didn’t even hold a candle to it in comparison. With a determined huff, he began to make his way back down to the ground.

With the sun beginning its descent to the horizon by the time he stepped onto the plains once more, Jorak decided to nonetheless push onwards. From what the map indicated it would be another few hours if he were to make a beeline towards the city. Not too bad and the chance at an actual bed to sleep in was more than enough for him to tough it up and keep up the pace.

Despite nightfall, Jorak’s eyesight remained almost as keen as ever and his pace slowed as he neared the city. Torches flickered within, moving about with the guards that carried them, and he could see several at the gate. His eyes narrowed further at the greyskins that manned their positions there. So it was true…

He spent more than a few minutes considering his options. The walls didn’t look too easy to scale even if the patrols that manned them seem awfully lacking. The front gate was also a bust given it was unlikely he would get through without some fuss or scene of sort. With a reluctant sigh it seemed that his best choice would be to simply spend the night outside the city walls and enter when there was more traffic during the daylight.
------------------------

So another night was spent just an arm's reach from the comforts of a bed and warmth in general. This close to the city he didn't want to risk a fire that might draw the attention of some guards who found curiosity stronger than laziness. Even after the sun rose, traffic was fairly light and it wasn't until a few hours after first light that there was a steady stream of people from and into the city. Hefting his pack, destroying the traces of his stay, and making sure his weapons weren't easily visible, Jorak finally made to enter Jeorva.

Rather than make his way immediately towards the Academy that sat in the north of the town, he wandered the market at first. It was quite something when that area alone could have matched Lorcrove in size, and there were probably several times the population in market goers. The awe held him momentarily before aromas and tantalizing scents urged Jorak forward to discover something new to eat. It had been a few days since he last had an actual cooked meal, and though rations were fine and dandy, they obviously didn't quite match up.

With a watchful eye, he managed to steer clear of the orc guards roaming the city streets. Just as he might have been easy to see among the crowd, it also made seeing the weapons they carried simple. A subtle turn here against the flow of the crowd and he was down another street. It took a lot longer than it would have to make his way to the Academy, but shortly after noon he stood at the bottom of the steps before the grand building. He watched the people that came in and out for a moment before he shrugged and began to walk up, ignoring the fact that he didn't quite fit in.

He didn't step through the oaken doors but instead took a spot off to the side of the massive Academy beneath the shade. Though he dug into his meal ravenously, and boy was the thick broth filled bread delicious, Jorak also kept an eye out for those who came and went from the Academy. He didn't expect to find answers to the dreams that easily, but it couldn't hurt to watch for those that didn't seem to belong. As he licked his fingers stained with broth, he sighed in contentment and settled in for his first of who knew how many shifts.

He returned to his "post", dinner in hand, just in time to catch someone who very much did not fit in begin the climb up the stairs to the Academy. In no hurry, he watched as she climbed the stairs with an almost vicious posture and disappear behind the heavy oaken doors. With a shrug, he followed upwards but turned to the side once again and took up his position again. Maybe it was usual to have a few odd visitors to the institute in search of the wealth of knowledge its attendees might have to offer. Certainly that was a reasonable belief to have, but his gut told Jorak otherwise.
Uh. Was my impression that only orcs that were outcasts lived in human society mistaken?
Ramone didn’t pay too much attention to his partners to his regret, and whirled around when he heard Willo call something out into the crowd. The crowd didn’t manage to mask her voice, but it did make them impossible for him to make out. Hopefully that applied to the intended recipients of the harpy’s words as well. Given he wasn’t sure what she had said, Ramone simply scrutinized his partner for a moment before he continued on his way to the counter.

“I do,” he remarked dryly at the her praise before he turned to the tender and asked about any food they might have had. Disappointingly enough, but not unexpected, there was none to be found at the moment and Ramone clicked his tongue. He settled for a cup of water like Willo had and sipped at it slowly as his eyes wandered over the crowd just in case any of the contained chaos made its way over towards their direction.

At her prompt he turned to look at their instructor by the doors that led further into the building. It wasn’t easy to miss Lazarus, even with the crowd, but he didn’t deem it too important to poke his head into the senior Hunter’s business. Given he was in her way, it wasn’t too surprising she was unable to see the waitress arguing against their instructor. One-sided as expected given the man’s reaction, or lack thereof. “See for yourself,” he murmured as he stood to get out of her way. “I’m going to see if there’s some place for food around here. It’s a port town… or was. Maybe someone’s still open like in the old days or something.”
@BaklavaJorak would have left within a day or two. Given the terrain and environment it probably would have taken him two days or so to make the journey.
Figured about as much. Made it a slightly lighter shade, or is it still too dark?
Probably a bit too dark, but what the heck it's already on my CS so might as well try the dark blue.

Jorak Tenumbra


Element: Darkness

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Appearance: Built like a great oak, Jorak stands at 6’ even and seems to still have an inch or so left to grow. Though not overly muscular, he’s clearly trained to define his body from a young age. He’s been described as older than he looks thanks to his relatively sharp featured face; his blue-grey eyes have been described as harsh or steely at times. His auburn hair is surprisingly long, shoulder-length, though it’s kept out of his eyes by a purple headband.

His outfit consists of a short sleeved shirt, secured at the waist with a leather sash, long pants, and simple boots. Colors vary from dull green to faded brown, showing the clothes have been well-worn. His forearms are wrapped constantly in cloth, secured at the wrists by a pair of purple armbands. Of note is also the plain purple tabard he wears, its color still vibrant. Though not quite as useful as a cloak, it’s still heavy enough to provide some warmth and comfort. He's donned a thick travel cloak for the journey.

Dagger and hatchet hang from Jorak's belt, while quiver and unstrung bow are on his back.

Theme Song: Virus by Max Legend

Nature: A quiet but confident youth, Jorak isn’t the most individualistic person. Though quick-witted and observant, he still looks to his elders for guidance and orders given how he was raised. He can come up with a plan of action, but waits on those in charge to give the go-ahead first. Admirable and desired qualities for a young guard or soldier, but perhaps a bit crippling in what’s to come.

Tenacious to a fault, he has improved such that it could be called a virtue rather than vice. As long as the task is legitimate, Jorak will strive to see it through to the end. At the same time, he isn’t stubborn, so it’s easy enough to have him direct his efforts elsewhere. Naturally, he’ll express frustration and discontent if his efforts are for naught, but ultimately he follows directions.

He gets along well with most sorts given Jorak doesn’t really give others trouble and isn’t easily bothered. He respects both intelligence and actual deeds, understanding both are important in their own rights. Naturally leans towards those that are more brainy given it’s what he would consider his weakness.

Backstory: Lorcrove. A small town located north of Jeorvo past forests and mountains. It is situated near the edge of a twisted forest covered in heavy mist at all times in the year. Twisted silhouettes stalk the treeline and occasionally venture forth to terrorize the population. Ghastly screeches and wails pierce the night sky every full moon, filling the sleep of many with night terrors. Why for all this do people still stay? During the day, when the sun shines bright and drives back the unsettling fog. The land is bountiful and harvests are rich. Brave men and women man the makeshift walls, built from the wood from the “cursed” forest itself.

Jorak’s father was one of the respected militiamen. A veteran of more than a fair share of battles and expeditions. By the time Jorak had been born he no longer manned the walls or patrolled as often. Age, but mostly old injures, had taken their toll and left him unfit for the strenuous nature of active duty. His father remained involved with the guard though as a trainer for new recruits. Thus, it was only in the evenings that Jorak saw his father. His mother managed to raise him while maintaining her profession as a baker.

From a young age, Jorak remembered the forest was never scary to him. He slept soundly through the nights of a full moon, and seemed to gaze at the shrouded treeline with interest and curiosity rather than fear. It wasn’t much later that he began to accompany his father to the training grounds. At first he simply watched the recruits drill and train, but in short order he had his own drills and training to fulfill. It was quite harsh, but he was a child and impressionable. That his father seemed genuinely happy and impressed that he followed through was enough for Jorak to continue and persevere.

At 14 Jorak finally understood what monsters plagued the town. Manned at the wall when a silhouette loomed at the edges of the treeline, the bell tolled an alarm for Lorcrove. As if set off by the booming noise, the creature swept out of the fog covered forest. Only it brought the fog with it, swirling around its body and hiding its appearance. As arrows were loosed, the projectiles disappeared within the shroud of fog that hid the creature. Only shrieks of pain that sent chills up his spine showed that the creature was harmed. What had to be dozens of arrows and the shrouded monster still put up a fight against the spears that met it at the gate. Yet fall it did and to his surprise, the fog drifted back to the forest and left nothing but clean arrows behind.

“They already see you clearly enough. These are so your comrades will never miss you, even if the fog descends upon the town.” With those words his father gifted him the purple-colored accessories Jorak still keeps to this day. Though he has stood guard on the walls many times, he is still too young to venture forth from the protection of the walls and towards the forest to strike back at the monsters that would prey on the townsfolk. With recent events, it seems unlikely that he will either.

Since his last birthday just a few days ago, his dreams have been unchanging and constant. Visions of a journey far south from home to a grand town where he would meet with others. A task that culminated at the castle where the root of evil had taken hold and spread far and wide. He tried to ignore it, but night after night it returned. It is not the only oddity either. When he jolted awake from the vivid dream… though it felt more than just that, Jorak found a pitch black dagger in his grip. He dropped it like some venomous snake and the weapon splattered against his bedsheets like ink on parchment. Well… if the ink moved like it was alive and disappeared into the shadows cast by the moonlight from his window.

Goal(s): Nothing grand at the moment and simply hopes to live up to his father’s expectations. Curious of the dreams he has had since his birthday and the strange abilities that seem to have come with it.

Inventory

  • Short bow & Quiver (20 Broad heads)
  • Hatchet
  • Dagger
  • Waterskin
  • Belt Pouch (Bow strings, coins)
  • Travel Pack (Extra clothes, fire starters, bundle of rope, rations; wooden bowl, spoon, and plate.)
Sorry. Just added something.
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