[PF-1e] Giantslayers

[Ziether]

Point the first: those are some damned good recommendations.

Point the second: Jarl is awesome from my prior knowledge.

Point the third: this looks sweet.

Conclusion: I would be a fool not to give you fine folk a run for your money.

NOTE: I DO know how to use all the fancy BBCode effects, but all my posting has been from a smartphone lately, so while length of post is not a problem (I'm tenacious), I try to reduce unnecessary BBCode. If desired, I would use colors, etc. in in-game posts.

Basics Brannar Kendraugh Name: Brannar Kendraugh Race: Dwarf Alignment: Lawful Neutral Class: Brawler Traits: Vexing Defender (Giantslayer Player Guide), Poverty-Stricken (Advanced Player's Guide) Description: Brannar is a rough-looking fellow, stout as most of his kin, with unkempt hair and beard hanging loose. His hair is of indeterminate color, as it is mostly just dirty. Bright blue eyes shine from his otherwise rough face, with a bushy monobrow stretching from just before his chops all the way to the center of his forehead. He wears roughspun clothing in forest green and medium brown, all the better to conceal his shape in the woods. He wears a light shirt under his chain, but then layers a heavy green and brown tunic over the top to hide the shiny metal. His frayed pants are spattered tan and brown and green, covering the tops of his tough boots. He carries a satchel containing some camping tools and some dried meat to sustain him. Beliefs Family: ever since Brannar left Palin's Cove, leaving his sister behind, he has grieved at the loss of part of his family. He hides it most of the time, but on her birthday, he takes some time in solitude to remember her birth, and to cry over the loss of her presence. Brannar believes that family should not be separated, and will work toward reuniting with his long-lost sister. Along the way, he is very sensitive to reports of sundered families and wants to reunite them if at all possible. He will go out of his way to help bring families together. The Ends Justify the Means: Brannar believes that sometimes terrible things must be done to prevent greater tragedies. History will judge a person based on the sum of their deeds' not the individual choices. Working with a necromancer may be called for in times of dire need, while he might apprehend or kill the same person in less severe circumstances. Goals Short-term: make a name for himself. Brannar wants to become famous for championing the innocent and peaceful. He is willing to sully his own life with terrible actions in order to improve the lifes of others, and the non-orcish (oppressors), non-Giant (father's death) humanoid population of the Mindspins is where he has started. Long-term: find Darnie. Brannar wants to reunite with his sister, and provide for her. With both of their parents dead, she is the last blood relative he plot hook? Maybe a cousin, uncle, etc.?knows of. Brannar isn't in a rush to reunite because he wants to do penance for allowing his father to be killed so easily first. He wants to leave the mountains with a scoured-clean conscience, feeling like he has made a positive impact on the region. Fears Mild-Moderate: Ogres. Plain and simple. Brannar's father was brutally killed by an ogre right in front of him, and he has a healthy fear of the brutal creatures. He overcomes it regularly, but fear causes him to be more careful, and often to make more stupid mistakes when dealing with Ogres. He may have some sort of in-game issues while encountering Ogres. Major Fear: ultimate dishonor. Brannar fears that if he doesn't do sufficient penance for his (personally imposed) culpability in his father's death, that he will be an outcast, dishonorable dwarf. His great fear of ultimate dishonor is what drives him to overcome other obstacles and fears in his wanderings. Background: Brannar Kendraugh was [url]Poverty-Stricken traitnever well off, and learned from a young age to work hard in order to make the best of hard circumstances. His family moved about for the first few years until his mother became pregnant again, and they settled in Palin's Cove for a while, and Brannar's father, Bearnt took up work repairing boats at the harbor. Tragedy struck when Brannar's sister, Darnie, was born. Their mother, weakened by months of meager rations, bled horribly during childbirth, dying a mere quarter-hour later. The young dwarf watched mutely as his father took the screaming infant in his arms and released her into the care of the temple of Sarenrae in town. Filled with grief, Bearnt packed up what belongings he had and signed up as a caravan guard, taking young Brannar along to learn a trade as he matured. Over the course of two score years, Brannar became quite the odd fellow. Brannar studied Brawler Classwrestling and street fighting when the caravan stopped for the night, learning from the larger, more experienced guards how to Vexing Defender trait (Giantslayer Player's Guide)deftly avoid their attacks while still getting a chance to get in a few licks of his own. Even before Brannar came of age, he was able to sign on as a guard at half pay, and together, he and his father were able to save up some money. By the time Brannar's fortieth birthday came around, they had enough to purchase a tiny dwelling in the dwarven city of Janderhoff. Janderhoff was a mixed blessing for Brannar and Bearnt. Stability allowed the two to have a wider array of acquaintances, but they missed the steady beat of travel all day. Both dwarves eventually found work hauling ore to the forges, and set themselves into a life of monotony and hard work, but also of safety. One autumn night, the father and son decided (quite foolishly, in hindsight) to go for a stroll beyond the iron walls, enjoying the surrounding country by starlight. The two dwarves had been walking for a couple of hours when they heard a loud crack, and turned to see a lumbering ogre stalking them in the darkness. The creature was being uncharacteristically quiet, but the unseen branch had given it away. The brute bellowed in challenge and charged the pair, Brannar recoiling from the ferocious visage of the ogre. Bearnt took the charge standing, placing his body directly in the path of the ogre, standing his ground as best as could be managed. His years of experience stood him in good stead, as he was able to halt the advance of the giant creature. The ogre roared once more, swinging a huge club at the elder dwarf, missing by bare hairsbreadths. Bearnt drew his short sword, heirloom sword, available plot hookHearthguard from his belt, the only weapon he had brought with him out of the city. With a shout, Bearnt went on the offensive, screaming "Foul abomination! Begone, ye blaggard!" Hs sword struck true, opening a gash in the creature's left hamstring. The ogre howled in pain and anger, swatting in a flat arc with his club, catching Bearnt full in the face with the head of the weapon, pulverizing his skull instantly. Brannar stood in shock, unable to react quickly enough, as the brute casually picked up his father's sword and placed it into a crude sack. The creature then turned its eyes toward Brannar, lurching towards him, the cut in its thigh hampering its progress. Brannar was still standing there, unable to take his eyes off the scene of his father's demise. An owl hooted in a nearby tree, and he suddenly snapped out of it and, terrified by the creature's advance, sprinted for the walls of Janderhoff. Arriving safely at the city's gates, Brannar fell to his knees, wracked with sobbing. His mother was dead, his father was dead, and his sister was an orphan amongst humans. He was alone, in a city that didn't mean duergar dung to him, a giant had killed his father, and he'd just stood there and watched. What a pathetic little creature he was. The city guard dragged the emotional dwarf in to safety, and a few mugs of strong ale later, the young dwarf was huddled over a privy, paying homage to the god of sewage. A few days later, Brannar gathered up what things he owned and sold them. The proceeds were enough to get him some roughspun traveling clothes, some food, a stout walking stick, a few wilderness supplies, and a shirt of linked dwarven chain. With the food and tools packed in a sturdy sack, the lone dwarf made his way to the gates of Janderhoff. Standing at the open gates, Brannar addressed the pair of guards to the left: "Thank you for your service in keeping these people safe. I wish there were more like you out in the wilds, able to protect those not fortunate enough to live here in this bastion. I'm headed out to do just that. I have an Ogre to track down, some vengeance to exact. Stay safe, my brothers." and with that said, he quietly turned and walked out the gates toward the mountains, vengeance on his mind, and hatred in his heart. For ten years, Brannar has walked the wilds of the Mindspin Mountains, sabotaging Orc raiding parties in their nighttime camps, freeing captives from the hands of ogres, laying traps for hill giants, and generally making a nuisance of himself. Brannar rarely visits the towns, only as often as needed to restock on food, or to rest when he has been grievously injured. As such, he has become a rather nasty sight (and smell) to behold. His hair is matted and unkempt, his beard reaching the bottom of his ribcage, unbrushed. The dwarf wears no footwear, trusting the years of walking the wilds to protect his feet from the elements. The trails have led Brannar to Trunau, and something tells him it might be a good idea to stop for a few days, maybe take a warm bath, and get his hair trimmed. Something about this town is speaking to him, and who is he to turn a deaf ear? Brannar sets foot in Trunau for the first time in three years, open to whatever the world has in store for him. Other Trunau: Brannar has passed through Trunau a few times in his wanderings and is passingly familiar with the holdout town. He isn't especially connected to Trunau, but if there are giants somewhere for him to hinder, he wants to be there. He happens to be passing through town at this time. Posting Rate: as often as needed by the rest of the party. I am trying to be comfortable with the slower rates of others, but can also accommodate more rapid paces if needed due to circumstances. About Ziether: Hey there. Yeah, Ziether here. I love player interaction and working out problems. Roleplaying is very important, and I love putting myself in the frame of mind of my characters, who are generally very different in every way from my own personality. While I have a decent grasp of magical effects, I am all about the mundane characters. I greatly enjoy the challenge of getting into the head of a "normal" person in a world populated with "specials."

[JonnyGulliver]

Out of his League... Edward Nortonsworth III, Esq. LG Taldoran, age 18 Treasure Seeker in Training (Utility Wiz-->Arcane Arch) Rich Parents, Voice of Monsters or Armor Expert, Artifact Hunter, Provincial Flav'a? For Sophisticated Tastes (Play while reading) ________________________________ This unassuming youth is actually descended from a long line of competent Treasure Hunters and is currently undergoing his own personal training to follow his forefather's footsteps and become a legendary Hunter in his own respects. Up until this point, his life has been one of pure academics and martial arms practicum. He is Taldoran and as such is used to a certain lifestyle and luxury, meaning he has a lot to learn about the world at large. His University studies that have taught him the fine points in histories, proper social decorum and legends of long lost artifacts yet to be found. At home, he has chosen the bow as his weapon of choice due to his disdain of direct physical altercations. He has received the best training money can buy, and has advanced to the next level of his education. Now he has set out to apply his skills in field. Being left to his own devices, he has set his sights on the region of Belkzen, where the repeated conflicts and turmoil give rise to many opportunities and rumors of many valuable artifacts being exchanged, hidden, or lost to time. He knows there is much wealth and glory to be had, so he sets out on his own story with no regard to whether he is even capable of surviving these purely savage lands. APPEARANCE/PERSONALITY At first glance this child-like manling seems delicate and waifish with his immaculate hygiene and his quality attire, but a second glance would quickly discredit such notion. Though smallish he is built quite taut, and his calm steady stride gives way to knee-jerk reactions soon enough. The boy is quick on his feet and seems to be able to take a hit. Though trained to be as resilient as any adventurer, his has far too many distinctive quirks that will always separate him from the rough-and-tumbles no matter how "native" he tries to go. His hair in long, blonde and beautifully maintained with a slight hint of juniper. He avoids use of cologne, but still has a distinct clean scent out of place in the wilds. His clothing is kept maintained and in good repair, thanks to the endless toil of his loyal manservant. With unmarred youthful skin and vibrant blue eyes that reflect constant thought, he shows little situational awareness and tends to come up with naive, sometimes insensitive well meaning commentary. He is a vast repertiore of information that can come in handy at the cost of little actual experience or pragmatic advice. But few can actually begrudge the lad for his lack of common sense. He has an open honest face that portrays his genuine want of becoming a true adventurer, and he always does his best to aid those he sees in need. BELIEFS "First and Foremost, History must be Preseved" - This has pretty much been the family motto since the Hunter Tradition arose some generations back. Great care and a lot of leg-work has yielded enough salvaged artifacts to make the Nortonsworth's very wealthy, but the real satisfaction lies in being able to look back in our histories and know how far we have come. "It's only a matter of time before I become Legendary" - This one is more of an unspoken belief. Edward can't help but feel a certain sense of entitlement, as if Greatness and Glory are virtually guaranteed for him. This leads him to believe he is simply Lucky, and he can do no wrong. So. No different than any other Teenager, really. GOALS "Holy Grails" - Like every aspiring archeologist, somewhere out there is a long lost treasure with his name on it, waiting to be unearthed. A physical marker, and an easy way to great wealth that will fund further expeditions. "Truth Bringer" - He is out to get a fresh chew on hidden lore. More than just some valuable artefact or physical treasure, he wants to astound the world with new knowledge and discover something that would shock the worldstage, and not just for the fame. Genuine curiosity drives him to discover new knowledge possibly at the cost of his own safety, GREATEST FEARS, Vol. 1 "Spiders" - Because, Ew. "Disappointing the Legacy" - Little guy has a lot to live up to. He doesn't want to be the weak link in a long chain of great Hunters "Broccoli" - Ugh. Just. Don't Even. I would like to point out that this startling lack of real fears is due to a sheltered upbringing. He just hasn't come into contact with anything truly traumatizing or evil. Yet. TRUNAU Edward figures the best place to go hunting for ancient treasures would be the savage and contested lands of Belkzen, where few civilized Archeologist have dared tread. He's in the market to begin his adventures by taking on th Big Boys much to the dismay of his poor and wisened humble servant Jeeves. Invariably the old Footman got shanghi'd into service on this journey, because even in brutal and unforgiving peaks of the Mindspin Mountains, one shouldn't be without the creature comforts. They are passing by Trunau looking for a Guide to teach them more about surviving the harsh wilderness when they begin to pick up on rumors of the settlements local woes. OPTIONALS/OTHER NOTES Post rate: Acording to the averages of my stats, once every 1-2/days, if I keep to my average 5 games on the go. ABOUT EDWARD: There is still some flex in character design, but his real role would be knowledge monkey and ranged support. Utility Generalist Wizard I feel suits the theme and the Arcane role, but Archeologist Bard works just as well if there is need for a Rougish. I don't see this character being a real huge help in combat in the first few levels. But I'm selling the concept after all, not the mechanics. It will be more of a heavy RP char that will come into his own as he grows into a man. His real selling point to the group is that he comes with Jeeves, his trusty servant that is in charge of managing and driving their travlling caravan, and who has a surprising array of skills that can come in handy when the party is in a bind. Expect silliness, cute dialouge, and convinient duex-ex machina thanks to a well stocked wagon. .

[Starspawn]

 

Originally Posted by JonnyGulliver

[JonnyGulliver]

Caught that, didja?

[Cedric]

Juicy!

[ByronBulb]

Vitals Asgeirr Njallson. Race: Human. Alignment: Neutral Good. Class: Cleric of the Travel and Knowledge domains.All-Father.   Travel is poetry for people who lack imagination. - Knowledge is the power to do that which was inconceivable before. Prayer, supplication, devotion. Pretty, petty rituals devised by man to please their chosen patron: or - more truly - the one they are chosen by. The war-crows of Old One Eye seek knowledge for their master wherever it may lie. Travel alone equates to nothing, those who roam for the sake of having done so are disdained more than any other by the followers of Odin. That which matters most is not the physical act of relocation, but the concerted effort toward a transformation of understanding undertaken during. To the Crow Priest, their master is worthy of devotion for his infinite wisdom and knowledge. The most precious of treasure hidden scraps of information beyond even the seeking eyes of black-winged Thought and Memory. This is why the priesthood of the All-Father roam as they do. To be the eyes of their lord closest the ground, to send to Asgard on wings of night what knowledge earned by trial they might. Traits: Steel Skin, Student of Giant Kind, Child of the Temple.

Descriptions Appearance Asgeirr is a solidly built man of middling height, with the powerful arms and barrel chest of a practiced combatant. His eyes are like twin chips of emerald, set into a ruddy face framed by a riot of flame coloured braids and an equally fearsome beard. Outfitted for battle he makes quite a sight - girded in heavy steel with a battered round shield on his left arm, and an oaken shafted short-spear borne proudly in his right. Both the steel rim of his shield and the leaf-like blade of his spear bear etchings of ravens and the All-Father's glaring orb that match the silver and lapiz lazuli pendant always about his neck. Apart from the pendant, his most notable raiment is a cloak tailored to resemble blue-black raven feathers clasped at the neck with a silver talon brooch. Personality Of equal measure are Asgeirr's great mirth and devotion to his patron god. Though perhaps a little over zealous at times both in praise of Odin and consumption of mead - his cheery personality and good nature make the warrior-priest a hard man to dislike. Though it would be easy to mistake Asgeirr for a kindhearted rube, his friendly demeanor hides an intelligence and guile most would never guess at.   There is no such thing as knowledge without sacrifice, and no such thing as merit unearned. - Asgeirr is a devoted worshiper of Odin, who sacrificed half his sight on the trunk of the world tree to gain the knowledge of all. If the greatest of the gods could bear to part with such a portion of his potency, what excuse can man make not to offer more? Anything that Asgeirr has is his at the sufferance of the gods. As such, there is nothing of himself that the young priest will not sacrifice in pursuit of Odin's favour. At the same time, willful loss of that which is not his to give is unthinkable. Asgeirr will defend companions with steadfast loyalty, and every act of might he can muster. There is time for sermons, and time for battle. This is neither. The hearth is warm and our foes far from us. Drink now, there may not be another chance for peace so soon. - When the crash of steel on steel has ended, and the hearthfire is piled high with well-dried logs, none is more ready to cast aside for a moment or an hour the trappings of war in favour of a night of revelry. There will always be another chance to reach Valhalla, best practice now for their legendary mead halls.   Thought and Memory on his shoulders, the slow beat of black-feathered wings bringing secrets to pay the debt an empty socket earned. - Communion with Old One Eye is achieved through his raven messengers, their wing beats signal the coming of the god at his followers prayer. It is Asgeirr's fondest wish that one day he might have a shiny, precious thing to send home with the ravens of Odin that yet has not reached his cyclopic lord's ear. It is a warrior's duty to prove himself worthy of Valhalla. It is mine to ensure they live long enough to earn that glory. - No waste of life is more regrettable than that taken by weakness or foolishness before its time. The death of his mother from sickness, and of his father from grief has instilled in Asgeirr a desire to use the blessings of his patron to ensure as many as possible earn their seat in the mead halls of the glorious dead. As a War-Crow, Asgeirr fights shoulder to shoulder with his companions on the front line - pausing in the midst of the assault only to beg of his patron the ability to heal and empower his allies in their own efforts.   My mother's body was not strong enough for the spirit of the woman, and my father's too strong for the spirit her loss broke. - Sickness and weakness are the terrors that plague Asgeirr in the cold hours before dawn. He is secretly terrified that his parents were never allowed a place in the afterlife because of the nature of their deaths, his devotion is in part an attempt to redeem them if this is so.

Background   Only son of a carpenter, Asgeirr spent his youthful days growing strong carrying and fetching hammers, chisels, lathes and other tools for his father. His mother was a sickly woman, giving birth to him having taken the greatest portion of her strength. Her malaise confined her to bed, too weak even to raise a book with which to occupy her mind. So it was that after a day of running errands for his father Asgeirr would sit by his cot-bound mother and read aloud for hours to her by the light of a candle. The small family were always close, until the lad's thirteenth year. When a powerful frost fell upon the land during winter, his mother took sick and her already weakened constitution was no match for the ravages of nature. She passed soon after. Asgeirr's father retreated into himself, became more and more absorbed in his work. He forewent food and rest in favour of the meticulous labour that took his mind from the loss of his wife. This left the boy to his own devices most of the time, barring the occasional major project with which he was expected to assist. With nothing else to remember his mother by than her books, he began to devour them wholesale. Tome after tome, again and again until he had committed the small library to memory. When his father, grown prematurely old with the loss of his wife followed her into the afterlife Asgeirr wasted no time in joining the ranks of the All-Father's priesthood in order to expand his knowledge - what better patron for a curious orphan than the all seeing Odin?   Less than a step inside the heavy, steel-bound oak portal Asgeirr was struck by the roar of carousing men. The wall of sound like a physical barrier, pressing upon him in waves of mirth, fury, and companionship. He strode the dim length of the hall, timidly at first but with growing confidence as his presence was accepted into the general chaos of it all without comment. Though inexperienced in such matters, the lad could not but help to note the security of this place - the thick grey-stone walls of seamlessly joined blocks - the small high windows, when there were any at all. The place was practically a fortress. Taking his seat at one of the long tables lining the hall he very nearly buckled under the clap of an enormous hand upon his shoulder. Looking up he beheld a grinning behemoth proffering a tankard of foaming brew. His own grin came as a natural response - this place was alright by him.   Again the hammer fell upon his upraised shield. Radiating shock waves from the fierce blow numbing his arm from wrist to shoulder. Stumbling, barely able to raise his arm to ward off the cacophonous follow-up he had no way of seeing the foot sweep that laid him low. Prone and panting in the dirt, he winced up at the instructor. The shield can be a great boon, and at the same time terrible hindrance to the inexperienced. Never raise your shield so high as to block line of sight to your opponent. Should you do so on the field of battle, you will find your foes far less merciful than I. The lesson concluded, Aesgirr picked himself up from the dirt. Making his way to the bathing area to wash the courtyard dust and sweat from his person. Mulling this latest lesson over quietly...

Trunau   Aching, exhausted, near-beaten, Aesgirr dropped to one knee beside the corpse of a felled orc. This last one was strong. Perhaps the strongest of all. Or perhaps he had given too much too early. There were bodies about aplenty as testament to the possibility. In a flash of last ditch desperation he raised high the unblinking amulet, seeking Old One Eye's gaze. Sending forth a prayer to Asgard for the strength to fell the last of his enemies upon the field of battle. For a moment, cold silence seemed a denial. Then came the surge of supernatural energy with the sound of beating raven wings. Charging every fibre of his being with a power heretofore unknown to the young initiate. From his kneeling position he surged. Renewed of vigour and filled with righteous wrath. His spear punched through the black-iron breastplate of the foe as though it were paper. With the last of the orc-kin felled he took a minute to rest upon the snow. To catch his breath and cool the battle heat in his blood. Afterward, once his pulse had calmed he undertook the task of searching the pockets of the greenskins. For the most part: nothing of note... though there was one document... a name in the brutal scrawl of the giantkin, immediately recognisable from his studies... Volstus... a place... Trunau... Re-rolling the scrappy parchments, he secured them within the depths of his travelling pack and cleaned the head of his spear in an un-stained patch of snow. Already the sun had begun to hang low in the sky, and he was only barely familiar with this Trunau's location. It would be a hard trek to make shelter by sun down. Nothing to be done about that though. Resolved as to his destination, Asgeirr re-shouldered his pack and began to walk in the growing gloom.

Optional Posting Rate: 1-2 times a week is fine. I can and will post more often if Asgeirr is conversing with other PC's. Probably more once university starts back, because procrastination. Music / Character Entrance Song: The Sermon - Graveyard Train. Other: I am looking to become active on the site again after an extended hiatus. If the fact that I have been away so long weighs against me, well, there's not a lot I can do about that. All I can do is promise that I do not intend to disappear any time soon, and that the circumstances surrounding my absence are no longer an issue IRL.

Phase II   Name Asgeirr's Impressions Felix You're too free with your coin Felix, let me buy the next. If I don't, you'll not have funds to pay for mine in future. - Here's a hard man for certain. Built for battle if ever anyone was. Fortunately for all it seems he's not got a temper to match. Could be though that I've just yet to see him crossed. Let's hope that no-one's fool enough. He's far too fine company in a good mood. Valerius Why do you sit so far apart Valerius? There's a place here at the bench for you, it won't harm your posture to relax just once. - Fine looking man, no one could argue that. From the state of his dress he maybe used to be finer still. At least it shows he's not so delicate as you might think. Still, a bit standoffish if you ask me. Might be that he's got something to hide. Might just be that he's slow to trust. Orrin Mountain-man, are your bones made of stone? Come here by the fire and warm yourself. Tell me, what brings you out from your ranges? - Earth-born. I'd never thought to meet one in the... flesh... I'd wager, even for the colour of it. Fascinating, truly. I must learn more about his folk while the chance remains. He seems dependable, solid, not once have I heard him complain. To be expected I suppose, given kinship with the bedrock. All fine qualities nonetheless. Barnabus Hah! You've missed your calling Barnabus. I've known Tellers who would give their back teeth to run their mouths half as well as you. - Here's one with spirit enough to fill his frame three times over. It can only be hoped that all the talking has left him enough time to practice those skills he makes so much of. Even so, best to keep a hand on my purse for now. Sky The runes on your shroud, gold-one. What story do they tell? - Berserker... I can smell battle-madness on this one. So much anger so close to the surface, and something else besides... Sorrow perhaps? What was done to you, sun-rager, and where are your blood? A blind man could tell the dwarf is no true uncle of yours. I hear the screams in the dark hours, you would have to be deaf not to. Best watch that the demons in this one do not grow to consume her. Hrotha Stop scowling at me girl, you'll end up wrinkling your brow permanently. Besides, I meant nothing more than was said: your tusks are rather pretty. - A quick temper on this one to be sure. Though she is far better adjusted than some of the half-stock I have encountered. I'd wager the attitude is mostly to blame on youth. I am not so far past it myself that I do not remember. With time she will make a fine woman, it is already obvious to a stranger that she cares deeply for this community. Surely they too can see that. Eghan It is a grief to hear your father's unfinished tale my friend. There is joy though, he faced death and wounded it. Old gods and new can look upon such deeds and smile. Let us drink to that, and to the end of his battle some day soon. - Here is one I could not hate if I wished to. No matter how far we travel from the old ones, they go deep enough to follow. This man is evidence enough of that. They will sing songs of our battles together. Makkari You are fine enough company for one of the Alfar. Few indeed are those I've met that would bother to speak with me at all, let alone as an equal. - This one seems so young, despite no doubt being many times my age. Most commendable is his attitude toward the younger races. I do not believe I've ever encountered a more outgoing member of the Alfar, I would be surprised to do so after. Sophitia What need have you to adventure, pale lady? You look to be wearing the better part of a wyrm's hoard already. - Freyja was certainly generous enough to this one. Those impressive gifts aside, I find myself wary of her, she's not to be trusted. Faithless and superior it would seem. No doubt she'd be a magnificent tumble, I wouldn't put money on any who slept in her bed waking up the next morning though. Anders The Old-Crow flies where he will go / Through hail and snow, what winds may blow / When One-Eye sees the mind will know / We priests will fly with faith in tow... Hah! It is a good song little man, sing with me again. Do your best not to shame me with that voice of yours now. - The old ones have many names and faces. What care have I for the one he gives his god? What matters is his spirit, and by the All-Father it is a strong one. Fine company, and a voice like honeyed mead on the coldest day of winter. Kyra Show me that move again will you? But slower this time, I didn't even see what you did to disarm me. - Kyra moves like nothing I have seen. There is an element of the serpent to it, of shifting branches, or a feather on the wind. This is an old thing, and one that I know little of. I feel there is much I could learn here. It is a shame she seems so serious. Sittania You sit so far from the flame Sittania. Are you not cold? Or is it that you are icy enough it matters not? - You can feel the eyes of this one the moment she enters a room. Even Heimdallr could not watch so closely as she. It is a shame that focus comes at the price of her good humour. Truly, this is the most serious of the wee-folk I've encountered. Still, the woman seems eminently trustworthy. There's no one else I'd rather have watch my back... after all, they might miss something.

[Sassafrass]

Johonaa'ei Lichii'ya "Sun of the Red Sky" "A Giant may be tall, but there are things which even a Giant cannot reach. And even Giants may be cut down to size." Race/Ethnicity Class Alignment Campaign Trait Additional Trait Human-Shoanti, of the Sklar-Quah Tribe Barbarian Neutral Good Orphaned by Giants Adopted-Dwarf Description: Sky is a giant of herself. Her skin is sun-kissed, typical Shoanti, with showings of her birthright here or there: brandings, ritualized scars, and the occasional tattoo. All of these motifs are in the shape or image of the sun, or creatures of the sky; on in particular on her back is a flaming dragon, devouring its own tail: she is told this has grand philosophical significance, but she bears it no mind. Made of muscle, Sky's black hair and dark eyes seem endless, almost Kellid in variety, but she is as she is seen: a pure-blooded Shoanti of the Sklar-Quah tribe. Or at least, her ancestors say as much. Sky keeps herself covered, her clothes baggy and earthy, with her entirety perpetually cloaked in a red blanket-looking cloth, with similar symbols to those branded on her. It is an ancient quilt, going back generations in her tribe, that bears the stories of her mother's line, and their fight against a colossal red dragon, whom they call The Flames That Rend. Her father told her stories that, in the end of days, The Flames That Rend will rise again and devour the sun, before beginning the final battle with the last remaining member of their tribe. Despite her hiding her appearance, and in spite of her muscles, Sky is quite seemly. She wears no make-up, and has no need to. Her hair is thick and naturally keeps itself; she requires little maintenance. She is clean without having to clean herself, something she has never truly understood but never questioned, either. Standing tall, Sky has a strong stance and walks briskly and quietly, but with power. Beliefs: Trust people to surprise you, and give them good faith-A lesson ingrained into her by her father, and the last remnant of Revenge is not something Sky asked for, but it is something that must be fulfilled. She will see vengeance brought down upon the Giants. And it is for those who stand in my way that I reserve my rage Goals: Sky wishes to find the Giants who slew her father and free herself of her need for vengeance, in any way she can Sky also wishes to reestablish her Shoanti heritage, and understand better why her father was exiled from their tribe. Fears: Sky fears dragons, blindly; she fears rejection, openly; she fears abandonment, completely; and she fears not being able to let go of her rage. She is kind and good of heart, but she will not give up her rage. Can she truly let it go? Background: Sky is born of the Sklar-Quah, fearful of outsiders, followers of the sun, battle-born and war-like. At least, that is the blood that flows through her veins. Sky has met only one member of her tribe, and that is her father. What she knows is only what he has told her. The tale was such: their xenophobic tribe took in a young girl, once upon a pity's sake, after a harsh battle with the Orcs of Belkzen. Raised alongside their own children, she took a shining to the Shoanti boy named Hard Sun That Tans. Despite the warnings of the elders, they soon became pregnant, and so the elders warned them to destroy that which had quickened, or face death. They chose their own fate and fled into the wilds of the Storval Plateau, avoiding their captors. Ten moons passed, and so came the child into the world, but at a price. Roaring with the ferocity of a dragon, Sky killed her mother. And so, Sky was raised by her father, Hard Sun. Her mother, now dead, remains nameless. They were wanderers, and he taught her everything a youth in the wilds of the world should know: how to hunt, how to survive, how to treat a wound, and who to avoid. Hard Sun, eschewing the teachings of his tribe, taught Sky to trust in others to be better than their flaws: anyone can surprise you. There were others, friends of Hard Sky, and none more devout than a Dwarf, called by Sky Uncle Braidbeard. On rare occasions, they lived with Uncle Braidbeard in Trunau. And she was taught to fear magic and dragons above all. And until she was seven years old, she was content to live life this way. Until the day the giants came. Her father was part of a hunting trip, then, a pair of rich aristocrats from Korvosa and their servants, and they were hunting game of their own. They came with their clubs and their stones and an appetite for the flesh of Mortals, tose stone giants. Hard Sun thought they could fight them off, and armed everyone. The giants made quick work of the servants, while the aristocrats fled. Now fighting only for their own survival, Hard Sun and Braidbeard held off the giants, with Sky hiding with the remaining mounts, until they were at last cornered in a ravine. When it became clear they must fight and flee, Sky joined the fight, attempting to help. While they showed great valor, Braidbeard's arm eventually became crushed by a boulder. As Hard Sun fought the giants to keep them distracted, Sky helped the Dwarf remove the arm at the bone. Now freed, he did what he knew Hard Sun wanted for him, a private promise made once upon a midnight moon. Throwing Sky over his bleeding shoulder, Braidbeard turned and fled as Hard Sun distracted the giants. But, turned backwards, Sky watched the entire time. She saw what they did to her father. How they dismembered him. She did not stop screaming for some time. She still screams, sometimes, in her sleep. All they found of her father was his blades, shattered. Braidbeard took them, and Sky, back to his home in Trunau. His arm removed, he took up as a hunting manager and blacksmith, working under an associate named Sara Morninghawk; encouraged by Sara, Sky used the blacksmithy as a way to overcome her sorrow, and to temper her rage. Braidbeard and Morninghawk were her only family now. And so, raised by them, the young woman worked as a tracker, guide, and hunter in the wilds of the world around Trunau, her home. But lately she has begun to feel something stir within her, a kind of wildfire, a madness, an anger from within. The dreams are returning. She can see the giants, but now they are engulfed in flame. She knows the stories of her people, and she knows the rage in her heart. Sky knows what it is she must do. But to do so would break an old Dwarf's heart. Trunau: Trunau, before the age of seven, was merely the world's biggest city to a young Sky, representing what she was not. But after her father's death at the hands of those stone giants, she has since taken to living here full-time, with her adopted Uncle Braidbeard (real name Tordec Livingstone, though most call him Braidbeard on account of his immaculate and braided beard). While she barely knew her before, Sara Morninghawk was close to Uncle Braidbeard, and Sky looks to her like a beloved aunt. While at first she was shy, since she has lived in Trunau she is more or less a native now. She carries with her a hopeknife, just like the rest; but she is better suited for the wilderlands around Trunau, and acts as a guide, with her Uncle handling the business side of things. When she is not in the wilds, she helps him with his personal forge. She is very social, and very well-known and universally well-liked, for reasons she is largely ignorant to.

Optional:
Posting Rate: You know how I roll, Brosephus. 1-2 won't be a problem.
Music / Character Entrance Song: Two songs are posted above, with her Shoanti and Taldane translated names. Native American, with a touch of Celtic/Conan, as per Shoanti flavor. The Shoshone Sun Dance music from Civ V is pretty spot-on.
Other: I love you

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Player	Character	Sky's Opinion
Mcderth	Felix	He is a big man. I remember the first time I saw him, heading into the Killin' Grounds. A mercenary, by the look and feel of him, but I hear good things; and word is true in Trunau. I see him as a man of this-or-that. He sees things one way, or another, with no chance of change. Or, perhaps, impressions are that important where he comes from. And I have heard he is a denizen of Lastwall. I would like to see that place, one day; but why is he here, if he is not so dedicated to that place? There is much I do not know of him. But he is a big man. I think one day I will know more. Outsiders are much that way. If they stay for long, you grow to know the back of their hand almost as well as they do; and you might show them yours, if they are worth the wear.
Blackfyre	Valerius	Since he has arrived, I am of two minds with this Valerius. On the one hand, I have a sense of unworldly taint in him. His eyes, they say much about him. His homeland, Utsalav.... I have heard such tales as to make nights restless and hearts turn to ice in fear. Such a Mortal of that realm is either abomination or insane, and I am distrustful; perhaps I am too Shoanti for my own good. But on the other hand... I sense something kindred about him. Of his blood, and perhaps a hint of tragedy, as if it is not he who is tainted, but perhaps... perhaps the word is "haunted." He is haunted by what was, or what was to be, and did not come to pass. Something about him seems as such... but he is an outsider, new here, and ever looking over his shoulder for something behind him. I cannot say what he is. I cannot know who he is. Can anyone know another? I think, sometimes, empathy is the only connection between us; but I do not deny that, despite what he may be, there is one. Or, perhaps, I should look more closely into what I am?
Neqq	Orrin	I call him the Mountain Man, because it is as if the spirits came into a boulder, shaped it like a man, and made it one. For truly, he is in tune with the spirits of nature and the world about us all. And in Trunau, that comes in handy. He is a loner, solitary, like a peak. I have heard he is not an outsider, though in my lifetime I have not laid eyes upon him until now. I have heard from others he lives on the outskirts, though I have not encountered him save in Trunau. But I sense much from him. You study a rock enough, you know its nature, its pores, its tale. And Orrin is much the same. Solitary, purposeful, quiet: his nature and his purpose are seemingly the same. And, at times, I feel ours are. Sometimes I like rock betters than people, anyway.
Rolzup	Barnabus	The childe-like nature of Halflings perplexes me, and that is no less true in Barnabas. He acts like a noble, speaks like a noble.... is he a noble? I have never heard of Halflings being nobles. Certainly I have never heard of a Halfling kingdom. This is not a distrust of Halflings, I have never met a Halfling I did not at least admit amusement by, but instead a question of experience. And that tongue... long have I heard his tales, of nobility and tragedy. And I have wanted to believe it. But his uppity nature.... Trunau is not Magnimar, or Korvosa. This is not the way to act in Trunau. We have traditions, but they pay no mind to lords or ladies. I have no love of them, at least. And since his arrival in Trunau, I have enjoyed his tales, but.... he means well. Barnabus means well, and meaning is all that matters to some. I want more than meaning. A snuff box does not bode well, and appearances matter little. If he hunts for the tomb of a supposed ancestor, why not hunt? I am a hunter: I can hunt. I can help. But why does he not hunt?
ByronBulb	Asgeirr	Asgeirr's god sounds noble and powerful; but he is the only one I have heard who worships it. I once asked Uncle Braidbeard about the All-Father; he laughed and said it was an attempt by a wayward Man to worship Torag, the Forgefather. They sound similar, I suppose. Ravens make me nervous, and he speaks so highly of them, as if they are messengers. "As in the creature variety from the Bestiary IVPsychopomps," he said once. One-eyed All-Father, yet I see his eyes regard me with such... trepidation. I know whence my anger comes. Where does his god come from? What purpose to Thought and Memory serve if not a goal? And what is that, exactly?
PopCultureBard	Hrotha	I made an enemy in my first day as a resident of Trunau, and her name was Hrotha. She was angry. I was angry. Uncle Braidbeard had me speak to a boy named Caulder, and... the encounter did not end well. Ever since, we have had nothing but bad blood between us. She, so righteous and angry all at once, like a storm. I do not understand her. She is so athletic, so strong; but why? She is a healer, too; how can you swing the sword and heal at once? I know what I am, but she.... she is caught between two worlds! Not that I am saying anything about her.... it does not matter. She does not like me and she never will like me and she judges me. And I admit, I have no interest in Caulder but sometimes speak to him in such ways in front of her as to enrage her. We can be civil, at times, but.... sometimes I wonder if our banter is just banter, or if she hates me as much as I think she hates me. Sometimes I think I don't hate her. I admire her in some regards, yes, but.... she can be just.... so irritating! If I were one for punching, she would deserve it.
Cedric	Eghan	I have seen many Northlanders in my time, but none as impressive as he. I am, admittedly, not impressed by his face. It is pretty, but when it moves—speaks, sings, you understand—in that tongue I do not know.... skalds are legendary, and I love the songs of battle and epics he speaks of when he speaks of his homeland. He has a fire, a flare, like he knows how to skip a rock on a still lake with no effort, but with his words. And I appreciate his prowess in battle. And his love of tradition! I envy him. He says he has come to Trunau with purpose, and speaks of wyrm-hunting. I doubt he knows what it is to hunt a dragon, wyrm-sign, or any of that. I would like to lead him to the fate he so desires. Dragons are no laughing matter, but he deserves to sing the song that will make his ancestors proud. It's what we all want, isn't it? It's what he wants of me; he says so, and who could not believe the words he speaks? His tongue is silver; or at least, perfect.
Xian	Makkari	I have heard of the beauty of Elves, but Makkari is utterly foreign. I have seen Elves, and there is more to him than that. Stories of the spirits of the wild, the Fair Folk I have heard them called—he has that look. I like him, I want to trust those wild eyes, but I am uneasy at them. He is calm, confident, everything I wish to be and more. He comes as an adviser, for martial purpose, and his words ring true; yet he is not a martially-minded man. He is a spell-worker, one who deals with magic and its like. A man of many meanings and mixtures. Will they work together, or are they altogether more violently opposed to one another? Oh, and his companion.... I could kidnap it and keep it to myself for my lifetime. Such a wonderful creature!
Hydra-X	Sophitia	I distrust outlanders from the coast. I do not believe there can be so much water in the world; the earth and sky are endless, but water? I also distrust squirrels; they horde what the earth requires, and we are already sparse of land. She is a lady of looks, I grant her that, and she knows how to use them. "Enchanting," I think is the word she uses. Everything about her is complimentary, and her sense of style... I envy it. I am simple, in my way, and she? I am no enchantress. But there is more to this world than looks, and that is especially true in Trunau. This is not Cheliax. We are not civilized as she speaks, or acts, or is. She would do well to do that, and it would be well for her to stop her lying. One is not so enchanting when the entire town knows what you reek of. And lies are, well... everyone knows what they smell of. She will be left behind if she becomes a burden for us.
Vex	Anders	A stout heart, this Halfling. He is zealous, a proud creature of Iomedae. I believe that his valor in battle outweighs his stature, but makes him no less impressive. I am tall; he is not. But we both are ferocious when brought to the heat of battle. He is impressive to me. Anders will make a fine defender of Trunau, and perhaps might become the most stalwart of them all. I see him as a leader. I would follow him, truthfully, but sometimes even leaders need guides; I am one such who could guide. But I wish only to be of assistance to one such as him. I do not see as clearly as he. And his songs are so pretty. I wonder if he and Eghan have shared their tales of valor before?
ItsaVerb	Kyra	She follows her own path. Kyra is many things, and all of them at once the same and different. I think we are very similar, in our ways. But she is more beautiful, more otherworldly. I love speaking with her: so much to listen to, so much wisdom in those words. And her movements are so fluid, while mine... I do not think I could walk like a dance, as she does. I have known her for a short time, but I count her among the most positive of additions to our small town. But I would like to see her out of it, to make more of her. She speaks of enlightenment: what does enlightenment look like outside of pristine situations? Not that Trunau is pristine; but behind walls and against the hordes of Hell, I cannot imagine her serenity would be so breath-taking. Perhaps we are more alike than I should think.
Pads	Sittania	Sitty is too hard on herself. One should always strive to be better, I will never argue with her there. But she could afford to be more complimentary of herself. She is clever, cunning without an equal that I know, and that is saying something; Trunau stands on the minds of its most cunning and its most stalwart. She being a new addition (and we've had so many this year!), she would make a fine strategist, or scout, or... why, she could be anything! But I see the way she looks near a fire, and I wonder why she is so skillful; what drives her? What makes her so valiant, so observant? Why does she want to be so much better?

[ScorchedOne]

Application Name: Kazuki "Kaz" Race: Kitsune Alignment: Lawful Neutral - Kazuki has a code and sticks to it. He keeps his word at all times, which does not mean he speaks the truth. Class: Sorcerer Traits: Giantslayer Scion, Charming Description: Kitsune form: Depending on the season, Kazuki is either a blue-white or light gray furred fox with a short muzzle and a long, flowing tail. His eyes tend towards a stormy gray, and look kind in most situations. His dress is impeccable, and styling vaguely Minkaian. He has not yet adapted to the styling of his new home, but the style fits. He displays no adornment or weaponry that is evident. Human Form: "Kaz" is a human on the shorter end of the spectrum, with graying hair which was once likely auburn. His eyes are similarly speckled, though the uncharitable could merely think it a sign of age. He dresses moderately, though in a more flowing style than perhaps fits the region of Trunau. Beliefs: Kazuki believes more strongly than anything that dharma will see him through, so long as he puts mainly positive vibes into the universe, and that those who do ill will find their reward. He also believes himself bound for greatness, based on ancestry and auspicious birth. Goals: Goals for the character are to make a name for himself and see a legend come of his life; immortality via story. Goals for the player are experiencing a new AP and playing a new variety of character. Fears: Kazuki fears dying alone and forgotten. His greatest fear is to have been no one, to not have impacted the world whatsoever. Background: Kazuki is the youngest in a long line of people who have died spectacularly. His ancestors' stories make for rich tales, and growing up hearing them Kazuki could not help but think of two things: One, in his veins runs the blood of champions, and two, he does not want to die like they did. To these ends, he left the safety of his Minkaian homelands, to seek not only his fortune but a taste of immortality. Rumors abound about the various methods of it, including the test of the starstone, but that is more of a last resort than a first plan. He plans further to equal the exploits of all his ancestors, in chronological order. First among these is the slaying of a tribe of giants, but as the tribe itself had already been slain in his homelands, he had to seek out somewhere else to prove his worth. After the giants, he has to free a land from tyranny, and then sire half-dragons, but those aren't exactly time sensitive. Giantslaying seems a young man's game. Passing for human has been easy enough so far, he is uncertain how they would react to someone of his sort in town. They seem slightly xenophobic, so he is fortunately able to assimilate rather easily. There is not a lot to be done while he waits either for an attack or for boredom to overtake him, so he busies himself with dalliances and research. Trunau: In his time in Trunau, which has been little, Kazuki has taken residence at the Ramblehouse. Not rich enough to buy a place of his own, especially from the rather taciturn folk of Trunau, he has no great need of one either. Soon he will set out on his adventure, to make a name for himself. He takes work entertaining the folk in the evening to help pay for his room and board, otherwise finding solace in books to study, and occasionally aiding the town's defense as all must who reside therein. Optional additions! Posting Rate: I can generally manage twice a week easily, tending towards Tuesday and Friday/Saturday as those are my off days. Other: Have a nice day.

[PopCultureBard]

Half-Breed Hrotha Name: (RA-tha)Hrotha Nortjan Race: Half-Orc Alignment: Lawful Good Class: Paladin of Kurgess (Redeemer) Traits: Trunau Native, Blade of Mercy, Seasoned Climber; Unlearned Description: As a half-breed, Hrotha is a contradiction in terms. She is tall for her age but short for her heritage. Her frame is toned muscle but lacks the bulk of someone who trains as often as she does. She bears the ritual tattooing of her birth clan but appoints herself in the manner of her human kin, both in clothing and hairstyle. Her tusks are deeply underdeveloped but sharp enough to hurt when she chews her lip, a nervous habit. With skin pale enough to be albino on a full orc but tinged too green to pass for human, she bears both races in delicate balance. Her eyes, however, are distinctly orcish. Deep, sickly yellow spheres in pools of white that are just a bit too large to seem proportional. All her efforts to keep her feelings in check never seem to reach her eyes which frequently leaves them a tempest of emotion that people who know her often have little trouble reading. The right is framed by a dark tattoo, shapes in position that declare lineage and tribe. They've become a source of embarrassment to her as she's grown older and come to understand exactly what orcs have been responsible for. Silver and brass line her ears and she frequently highlights her lips and cheeks with dyes and powders, an attempt to mimic the human concept of beauty. When she speaks, she tends to do so at a measured pace in a voice that is often described as throaty or husky, depending on the listener's attitude towards her at the time. She dresses simply, both out of financial need and her father's insistence on modesty. Light linen and heavy fur depending on the weather, with a tendency toward neutral earth tones and soft blues. Beliefs: Her father has handed down a laundry list of one-line lessons in his day, but she holds a few close. "First impressions are the worst impressions." Never judge someone based on an initial reaction, as fear and anger are often the driving force behind people's actions and their true nature cannot be seen until those emotions are put to rest. Her early experiences in town have shown this to be true, and she has had to make great effort to gain the trust of people she mistreated when they first met. As such, she makes every effort to present herself well in initial meetings in hopes of preventing further misunderstandings. "The loudest bark says the least." One learns from listening, not from speaking, and one should speak only when they're certain they have something useful to say. Hrotha has learned that a willing ear is often the best way to make friends and she frequently serves as a sounding board for others in the community. "Wounds on the body leave scars on the mind." Along with his natural approach to medicine, her father has always stressed that people who see combat injury are often haunted by their experience. Her childhood trauma with wolves makes this reality very apparent to her, and she seeks to tend to people's emotional hurt as well as their physical pain. Goals: Hrotha's wants to seek out her mother and turn her away from her destructive path, a goal that is driven as much by her desire to meet the woman as it is by the tenets of her faith. Her time among the people of Trunau has inspired a comfort with community and she wants to give back to those who have been so accepting. As such, she is considering devoting her efforts towards earning a position on the Council of Defenders as she gets older. Word of competitions such as Oppara's Raptor Run and the Carnival of Kurgess in the Shackles tempts her to set off and prove herself in athletic competition. I would like to see Hrotha overcome an obstacle through competition rather than violence, much as her father did in his day. Fears: Having grown up on horror stories of orc atrocities, and her father's own frank description of her former tribe's behavior, Hrotha is terrified that she might be like them at heart. Savage, brutal, self-serving...all the traits she works so hard to avoid showing seem intrinsic to her orcish lineage. She is deeply concerned with the opinions that others have of her and uses humor to put people at ease. Overcompensation for this fear led her to embrace religion so heavily, and pursue the path of redemption in her personal philosophy. Also, wolves. Background: Hrotha was born among the Shattered Skull tribe in Belzken, but her story begins further back and has been related openly and honestly to her over dinner many times by her father. Theron Nortjan was a Kurgan priest of Ulfen stock, his grandfather having moved their family south to Vigil to battle the orc menace there after some undisclosed shame made him an exile. The Nortjan's were respected in Lastwall, and her father was loved for his selflessness and adherence to fairness. He tended the wounded as they returned from expeditions into the Hold, favoring mundane methods over magical when possible. In late summer his assistance was requested on a rescue operation that went south when the group was ambushed four days out. The orcs demanded his blood but his faith in Kurgess inspired a different option. He was no match for them in battle but years of athletic competition left him far more capable in that regard. He made an open challenge to the warriors; should he best all comers in a foot race, feat of strength or wrestling match he would have the right to speak with their leader. His ability was up to the task and he soon found himself in their camp. Respecting his competitive nature and healing skill, the warchief gave him over to Yurtha, his second, as a slave. The woman was intrigued and their relationship developed as he spent months tending their wounded. A year later Hrotha was born and tattooed with the images denoting her lineage. Her father claims these early years were happy ones where the tribe almost treated him as an equal. Then the warchief died and Yurtha took his place, the demands of the position souring her disposition and straining her relationship with her human family. When Hrotha was three her father spirited her away in the night, avoiding patrols sent to find them with wilderness skill he picked up from his time in the tribe. One of her earliest clear memories is being harried by wolves while her father was stalking a deer. She still has a scar on her leg and lingering discomfort around the beasts. They found themselves in Trunau, weak from hunger, and he offered his skills in exchange for protection. So began Hrotha's life among humans, the only life she really recalls. She was an angry child and had trouble adapting to the culture of the town. She fought with the other children often, earning reprimands well into her seventh year for actions that would have earned her severe punishment in places with less sympathy to half-breeds. Her father, exhausted by his experiences and unable to rein her in, called upon the priests of the Sanctuary to take up her education. In time she began to calm, devoting large chunks of her time toward studying the histories of the faiths. While not the sharpest hopeknife in the drawer, she found religious study came easier to her than most formal learning. She found Iomedae's beliefs inspiring but it was her father's faith in Kurgess that called to her most deeply, and she focused the energy that used to fuel her anger towards healthy physical pursuits and friendly competition. The people of Trunau began to treat her differently as her attitude improved. As she aged she began to split her time between the Sanctuary, where she assisted with healing injuries, and the stables, where she would help train and tend the local animals. She smiled more (and scowled less), trained with the militia (finding skill with the shield and defensive tactics), participated in local ceremonies (sometimes officiating small athletic competitions), and even spent more time with her human counterparts than the half orcs she used to rely on for company. She became close friends with a local apprentice blacksmith named Caulder, a boy with a competitive nature equal to her own. When she turned 12 and received her hopeknife she truly felt like a member of the town. Athleticism was an important part of her life from early childhood and she'd formed a ritual involving scaling the cliffs and running around the city in the pre-dawn hours that led to a critical interaction when she was 14. During that day's run she stumbled across an orc who was badly wounded and sick with fever. Her first thought was the hopeknife under her tunic but that held for but a moment. She recognized the man's tattoos, the same symbols on her own body that marked her a member of the Shattered Skull tribe. Turning instead to the natural world and the skills she picked up from her father, she bound the orc's wounds and treated his sickness. Knowing the town would never see sympathy for an orc, Hrotha hid the man away in a small cave she'd found. She brought food and herbs during her sprints and in a few days her patient was well enough to speak. They spent those first few conversations avoiding painful subjects, as Hrotha hoped it would allow the orc time to process any associated trauma. In time the talk gravitated naturally toward his past and the source of his injures. He claimed that her tribe had undergone a struggle for power, that the current warchief crushed the uprising without mercy, that she had the ringleaders flayed and their families disfigured so that they could wear their shame. Hrotha wanted to know more, to ask about her mother, but she was afraid that if the orc pieced together who she was, he might try to bring her back as a hostage to reclaim his place in the tribe. One day, after weeks of recovery and conversation, she arrived at the cave to find him gone along with his meager belongings. She can only hope that he found some measure of peace wherever his travels took him. Trunau: While not born there, Trunau is the only home Hrotha can remember. She has spent the vast majority of her life there and the sense of community, that 'we live together or we die together' mentality, is deeply ingrained in her. She trains with the militia, aids in healing the wounded and assists with religious ceremony at the Sanctuary. Some of her peers still whisper the 'Half-Breed Hrotha' nickname that used to earn them beatings when they were children, though never within her earshot. Despite her faith and her cautious attitude toward judging people, Hrotha is still a teenager and prone to the emotional turbulence of her age. She struggles often with jealousy toward the more popular or attractive and her desire for acceptance has driven her to make poor romantic decisions, leading to ugly rumors among her age group. This has soured her mood recently and damaged her relationship with Caulder, which was already becoming complicated due to the strange feelings she's been experiencing around him in recent years. Optional additions! Posting Rate: I can manage 2-3 posts in a week most of the time, but 1-2 is a more comfortable standard. Music / Character Entrance Song: 'Out of Touch' - Hall and Oates, to reflect her desire to be part of a whole. 'It's All About Forgiveness' - Isy Martin Jr, to reflect the forgiving nature of redemption. '300 Violin Orchestra' - John Quintero, to reflect the adrenaline boost of competition or battle. Other: So, some background here. I've wanted to play a Paladin of Kurgess for the longest time. A somewhat dim, overly friendly fratboy to the God of Jocks who would respond to getting angry by challenging someone to an arm wrestling contest instead of busting out the steel. That just sounds like great fodder for amusing roleplay. My first instinct when reading the player's guide for Giantslayer was along the lines of "Man, I bet this could present some decent opportunities for a Redeemer paladin to ply their trade". Taking the two concepts together, I came up with more of a ditsy sorority girl than a idiot fratboy and I really like how it feels. Someone who is half-orc but tries their damnedest to not acknowledge it, who wants to fit in with humans no matter the cost, who truly believes that there is good in everyone and is willing to go to great lengths to prove it. Jarl11: Why a paladin and not a cleric? Not trying to get you to change your PC, but thought I'd bring up the options because of your god choice. Ugh, you would have to ask me that. I've been back and forth on whether cleric or paladin better reflects the idea since I came up with it because each provides distinct benefits and drawbacks to the concept. Paladins are more formidable from a physical point of view, which helps represent the athleticism I'm going for. Clerics have domains, and the Kurgess domains are amazing for the theme (burst of strength, anyone?). Ultimately, in this scenario, I settled on paladin because of the strict code of conduct, which I feel Hrotha would gravitate towards, and the Redeemer archetype, specifically how I hope to see it impact Hrotha's story. And now that I've said that, I realize I could likely do a very similar thing with a cleric if I researched how to build it that way a bit. The character would work well in either scenario so long as I keep her personality and motivations the same, which aren't reliant on mechanics. Is it crass to say I wouldn't be opposed to approaching it from that angle if that is more in line with the needs of the group once selections are made? Too bad, I said it.

 

Name	Hrotha's Impressions
Felix	I met a man named Felix at the Ramblehouse a few days ago. He was wearing a Lastwall insignia like dad has packed away so I had to see what he was about. This guy is really into dragons. Like, really really. He's nice, though. Has this kind of easy smile that says everything is ok. I don't expect him to stick around long...he seems intent on this scouting mission he's been given. It's strange, when I mentioned him to dad he got real interested in the man's past all of a sudden. I think our fathers knew each other back in Lastwall but dad keeps clamming up when I ask.
Valerius	Oh, that accent. It tickles my ears and I swear just hearing him speak makes me blush. Tall, dark and handsome is totally not my type, sure, but the way he clips vowels is just gorgeous. I heard someone call him a spellsword the other day. He's not quite a warrior and not quite a wizard. I've never seen anyone blend the two so seamlessly. Ok, I've never actually seen anyone blend the two at all but I have to imagine what he does is really as amazing as it seems to me. There's something off about him, though. He seems on edge when he thinks nobody is looking. I feel like there is some kind of danger involved with him and I can't trust that being around him isn't some kind of risk. Maybe I can get him to open up more if I can get him into the practice circle.
Orrin	I saw the rock man again. A man, made of rock! Can you believe it? I guess he isn't made of rock exactly, just seems that way. We spoke about orcs and how their aggressive tendencies don't define who they are as individuals. Orrin seems like a very sensitive person and I believe we have a similar outlook on the threats of Belzken. I think he is eager to move on from Trunau and that makes me sad. I feel like there is a lot I could learn from him. I don't really understand the fascination with nature but I respect the faiths that seek to balance the old ways and the modern times. I think I'll ask him to arm wrestle before he goes, just to see what it's like to fight a mountain.
Barnabus	A halfling approached me today and asked for directions to the Ramblehouse. It was instantly obvious to me that he didn't fit in. I remember that feeling well and it made me nostalgic so I walked with him. I have to admit that I had difficulty understanding him half the time but he spoke enough that I was able to get a full story from the half I could grasp. He says he is searching for something his ancestor lost, some great hunter of giants named Anatrus or Anasas or something. I've got to remember to ask around the Sanctuary and see if they know anything about an ancient halfling hero. Now I can't stop picturing it. Teeny, tiny slayer of giants. It's exciting to see new people come through Trunau, even if they're all full up on themselves. Almost like bringing a slice of the world to your doorstep.
Asgeirr	I've been around religion all my life and despite my extensive study of the world's deities I find myself struggling with the concept of this one-eyed All Father. He seems to be a god of understanding and suffering, a protector and a stern instructor. I respect Asgeirr's understanding that sacrifice is often necessary, and the man can brandish a spear with expert skill, but I fear he is too quick to drink and I wonder if he's hiding something behind his faith's traditions. He speaks plainly and that's a rare enough thing these days but he seems keen to push when my face says to step back. Maybe a lesson on reading social cues wasn't available in the All-Father's library.
Sky	I got into it with Sky again. Or rather, I think I did. I'm pretty sure we were fighting. She had that fire in her eyes the whole time and I swear she wanted to hit me. I kind of wanted her to do it, too. 'Oh, I'm so broody and dark and all the boys fawn over me but I'm too wounded to notice.' It drives me crazy! I remember when she came to Trunau. She was as angry as me and now everyone just falls over themselves to talk to her. She's not even that pretty. Sure, I feel bad about her dad and everything...I just don't see what's so special. Caulder says I'm just jealous. I'm not jealous!
Eghan	I heard the most amazing story today. Ok, first there is a bard around who claims to come from Freedom Town. What a nightmare place that must have been to grown up. Eghan is handsome in a 'rough and tumble' kind of way and I'd bet he can swing a mean axe if the situation calls for it. Enough background...the story he told was about a linnorm, which is a special kind of dragon from up north, I guess. He said the hero of the story was some kind of ancestor of his and the way he described the battle took my breath away. It was like he painted a picture inside my mind. I was replaying the scene in my mind and I didn't realize I'd been staring at him for too long. How embarrassing!
Makkari	Ok, I don't really understand what is going on here. Kyonin sent some sort of military adviser to Trunau to help with tactical planning and organization against orcs. Everyone was watching the gates when he arrived and I know I can't be the only one who was shocked at how young he looks. Elves live like...I don't know...forever or something, but this Makkari doesn't look much older than me. The only thing that snapped me out of my stupor of confusion was realizing that he isn't alone. He has a giant cat with him, the most ferociously beautiful animal I've ever seen. As he passed by I saw these scars on his neck, deep and long and purposeful. Whatever he's been through, it left a mark on him and I'd bet my armor that the marks aren't only physical. I haven't stopped thinking about him since this morning and I can't figure out why. I need to know more.
Sophitia	Magic has always confused me. The blessings of the gods are plain enough but this 'cloud the minds of men' or 'blow up a house' kind of stuff just feels wrong. I'm writing this because Sophitia holds a distinctly different opinion and I don't really know how to approach it. She's got a hard edge but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like being around her. She's from Riddleport, which I understand to be further away than I can even imagine, and I can't figure out for the life of me why she'd want to come to Trunau. If she's running from something, she isn't doing a great job. I've never seen anyone act more like a beacon for attention, and I'm not even sure she's trying. Even animals seem drawn to her, like that squirrel that's always hanging around. So cute! Must be nice to have that kind of effect on people, to be liked without effort. If I hang around with her more, maybe I'll pick up on a few tricks. Plus, she seems to get under Sky's skin and that makes her aces by me.
Anders	I have to tell you what Anders did today. I was feeling kind of down because tomorrow is my birthday and that always makes me think about mom. So we were assigned to spar during training and I guess my heart wasn't really in it cause he kept getting inside my guard. He's always been fast but today he was just on top of things and he kept whistling this tune that I can't get out of my head now. Anyways, I'm trying to keep my shield between us, which is tough with him being so short, and he gets his sword up under my crossguard and sends my blade halfway across the circle. I've never been disarmed in practice before and I never saw it coming. That guy is going to be something special, I can feel it. And he's not as uptight as I'd expect for such an avid follower of Iomedae.
Kyra	Irori and Kurgess seem like two sides of a coin to me. Sure, Irori is all order and enlightenment while Kurgess is focused on fair play and fun, but both faiths prize physical achievement and hard work. Kyra feels like that to me, another side of the same coin. She understands what it means to have to work at being better than you are, to focus on what you want to be. I respect her, but at the same time I wonder if she is capable of cutting loose and living in the moment. I'd like to think we'd be friends given time but I'm worried that our similarities will just end up shining a light on our differences. Maybe I should get her to show me how to throw a proper punch before that happens.
Sittania	You know that old chest dad keeps secured in his room? He brought in some kind of security expert today to try and make it even more secure. That thing has like four locks already, I don't get it. Sittania, that's the girl's name, is pretty amazing. She really seems to know her stuff. Kind of no-nonsense, though. And that hair...so beautiful. I'd kill for hair like that. We didn't talk about it but I think she's lost people, too. I'm getting better at picking up on those kinds of things. I wonder if that means I'm overcoming my own losses or reveling in the grief of it. Hey, I wonder if she's met Anders yet? They might get along nicely.

[Cedric]

Mostly Finished! Cattle die and kinsmen die, thyself too soon must die, but one thing never, I ween, will die, -- fair fame of one who has earned. ~Hávamál Name: Eghan the Pale Race: Human Alignment: CG Class: Skald Traits: Dragonfoe // Courageous Description: Eyes the color of silvered moonlight watch the people passing by from underneath pale blonde locks framing his chiseled face. A small braid hangs inches lower than the rest of his hair down onto his right shoulder, it's end decorated with a small rodent's skull.* Leaning against the wall of the tavern with arms crossed over his chest, showing wide shoulders on a lean and wiry frame, he smiles at a passing gang of boys chasing a terrified cat, revealing large teeth that are perfectly white. It's an infectious smile, the kind that brightens up a room. He appears tall even as he leans against the wall, long legs crossed while one foot taps a slow rhythm and there is no masking the Ulfen blood flowing through his veins. Northern blood, yet his clothing speak of a more southern living; Supple leather, padded and fringed with wolfskin and cut in a military fashion more akin to that of the rangers of Fangwood in Lastwall. At his side lies a backpack with a wooden shield strapped to it, decorated with white colored northern symbols of protection upon it. An axe rests against the wall, made for battle even though it probably hasn't seen much of one. In his belt two smaller axes, made for throwing hang from loops for easy reach. ---------------------------- Far from being shy and composed of equal parts curiosity and charm Eghan has always had an easy time of befriending people. Still he has few that he would call true friends, but a large group of acquaintances. He is passionate in his beliefs, yet is of the opinion that everyone is entitled to have their own set of beliefs and ideas, even though he doesn't always agree to them. The freedom of living your life as you choose, as long as you don't bring harm to others. He rarely backs down from a fight and has been put down by larger men than himself many times as he inherited the same “Heroic Idiocy” (as his mother calls it) that got his father killed. But he always gets back to his feet, often with a bloody smile on his face as he finally realizes he's been bested. He's not a sore looser and doesn't hold a grudge, but that won't stop him from throwing punches with the same man again at a later date.   - History shapes our future: Our heritage and history, be it as a race, a nation, community or even as a family is our most precious possession. We must treasure it in song, story and written word to pass on to future generations. - Those who fear death cannot enjoy life: When my time has come, it has come. Until then I will make the most of what time I've been granted by the Gods.   - To live and die as a free man having learned from failure, inspired through victory and been a part of a tale that echoes through time. - I will learn the story of each dragon slain within these lands, of each victory against the giants and orcs and of each triumph of good against evil as I journey across Belkzen. Then -if the gods please- I will bring back the tale of the death of the wyrm who slew my father so all may know that he has been avenged.   - I fear that one day the orc hordes will overrun Freedom Town and Trunau, eliminating what little resistance is left in these lands, in fact I believe it to be only a matter of time. - I've heard tales where the dead rise to walk again, just the mere though ofsuch an abomination appalls me and sends shivers down my bones. - The wrath of my mother is the most frightening thing I've encountered. I treat her with respect out of equal parts love and terror. Background: Freedom Town. A hollow name if there ever was one. Founded by outlaws and criminals, surrounded by orcs and ruled by the idea that might makes right. Still, it's home. I loved my father, I believed him to be the strongest man alive when I was young and the memory I have of him, seen through the eyes of a young boy will always paint him that way. His towering height, dark hair and fierce tattoos of a Mammoth tribal warrior, I have his eyes you know, only resemblance between the two of us really. He led a group of men who protected the nearby farms from orc raiders, ogres and even the odd giant. In turn Freedom Town got fresh crops flowing into their markets. He was a good man, or so I'd like to believe. At least he was always good to me and mother, he always had time for stories and games. I miss him still. They say he died a hero, but no tale has been told, no song written. A dragon came from the mountains and attacked the livestock of a village not a days journey from Freedom Town, my father's gang was nearby and they rode against the wyrm. Four of the ten riders came back that day, saying how my father was able to wound the dragon so the terrible beast fled. But not before engulfing my father with it's killing breath. One day I will tell the death story of the wyrm who killed my father. This I swear. My mother, my best and closest friend, she is the one who told me all the stories about the heroes of her homeland; the Linnorm Lands that lie Northwest of Belkzen. There, like in the homeland of my father, they praise the cunning and the strong, those who best the strongest of enemies and those who return with a heroic tale to tell. She taught me the stories and the songs, so that they would be remembered. She told me of Gunnar Ormsbane, Hildur Scalebreaker and White Estrid – my mother's niece. She told me of Olaf and his battle with Gremlir the Wyrm at the end of the world and about Sigurd, Bane of Fáfnir. All great people. All legends, Kings and Queens - Wyrmslayers. Belkzen needs heroes like this if it is ever to be more than refuges in a hostile land. Most of my youth was spent on the streets, roughing it with the other kids and getting myself into all kinds of trouble. My mother allowed me that freedom, but early on she taught me to read and write and she had a simple rule; that I would read a chapter from a book each night, saying “I can't help if my boy is a fool, but I'll be damned if I deliver an ignorant man into this world. Irori knows we have enough of those around!” She still lives in Freedom Town, working as a midwife and offering free tutelage to any woman wanting to learn how to read and write. This has angered some of the more backwater men in town, yet there are few who dare go head to head with The Widow Signy, after all who in their right mind would want to anger a witch? Take it from me; you're only that foolish once in your lifetime! But now Freedom Town is behind me and ahead lies the world. I'll start my journey with Trunau to the south as I've heard nothing good of that town from the people of Freedom Town. That should mean it has good people living there, right? Trunau: Trunau is but the first stop on my journey, I found it to be as good a place as any to look for stories and songs to add to my work as it lies not far from Freedom Town. Posting Rate: Usually I'm good for 2-3 times a week, sometimes more, sometimes a bit less. Music / Character Entrance Song: Týr: Ormurin Langi (The Great Wyrm)   Name Eghan's Opinion Felix Felix! My brother from another mother! Now there is a man worthy of a tale or two, should he stay alive long enough to prove his mettle. A good man, a damn good man indeed. Valerius You walk in shadows my friend, where no man should tread alone. Life is too short for you not to enjoy it, come have a drink on me and relax. And for the love of the Gods stop fidgeting with that knife, people might think you're about to murder someone! Orrin Tell me about the mountains Orrin, and the dangers they hold. Surely you know this land better than most. Sit and share a drink with us and tell us about the giants and the orcs, but first tell me where the wyrms live. Barnabus Here is the largest person I know packed within a body that surely can't hold all this hot air in, one day you will explode my friend, and I'll be there to witness the glory! Hah, if all the orcs in Belkzen were to be exchanged for the likes of Barnabas Clutterbuck I'd be terrified....hey now, no need to take offense! Asgeirr We'll fight and drink together in this life and so shall we in the next! We are much alike, you and I, and who knows; had I been raised in the land of my mother I might have taken up the mantle of a priest of the Old Faith. Please, sit and tell me more of Óðinn. Sky Some people believe a woman should not swing a sword, that her place is with the children and the hearth. To them I always tell the tale of White Estrid, slayer of Boiltongue. One day I will also tell these people the tale of Sun of the Red Sky. Hrotha Oh you have heart and spirit and honor lurks somewhere within, those are all good traits and will lead you to greatness. However, they won't help you to finish these four pints ahead of me. Ready? Go! Makkari Military adviser eh? What do the elves of Kyonin want with Trunau? It's not that I don't trust elves as such, but history has shown that your people are like that big brother who doesn't want anything to do with you until someone messes with you or they need you for something, so which one is it? Either someone back home doesn't like you or you're a brave man. Brave and stupid, actually. Which means you'll fit right in, welcome! First round is on you. Sophitia I've got my eyes on you.... *wink* Anders Anders? A damn fine fellow, voice that makes you forget the women on your lap for a moment! Hah, but how easy it is to make the little guy uncomfortable. I know I shouldn't, he's a good, hardworking soul but he needs to start getting back into people's faces or they will run him into the ground. Kyra So out of place, yet somehow so at home in this world. Funny story; I once -accidentally I might add- walked into her, well I was walking backwards with both hands full of ale, due to a bet between me and this girl name Hrotha. Well as I snaked my way through the crowd I walked into her, she had her back turned to me.... she didn't budge! I tell you it was like walking into a redwood tree, knocked me flat on the back, ale spilling all over me. I tell you, that girl is more than meets the eye. Sittania It was a good joke Sittania! Really, you need to lighten up a little. Fine then, can you do better? Not interested? ...why...wha.... speechless, gutted! This town is crawling with halflings and not one of them acts like one! Oh don't give me that look, I'm just having fun is all.

[Ghostwheel]

Made a few changes to my application.

[Jarl11]

Another day and more pleasant surprises on here! Keep up the good work everyone! Will update the table of apps in a few.

Big welcome to the most recent folk to show their shiny faces! DarkNetwerk, PopCultureBard, JonnyGulliver, ByronBulb, and ScorchedOne Thank you for showing interest and I look forward to seeing what you put together.
@Ziether - Thanks for the kind word and welcome back to RPGX! It's always great to see a familiar name.
@Rolzup - Glad to see you tossing your halfing sized hat in the ring!
@Cedric - Another familiar name! Good to see you.
I'm truly humbled by the amount of interest. It's awesome guys. This is going to be a tough job for me from the initial looks of things.

Please be aware that I am currently moving to another city with the wife, new job and all, next week. So I will be around in the evenings and with my phone but may not have time for lengthy reviews until next weekend. This is part of the reason for my choice of deadline in 3 weeks.

I'll try to answer the questions some of you have sent me soon. Please be patient if I don't respond right away. I will get to it though!!

On another note - with the number of apps coming through right now - my intention by the end of next week is to do a proper review of all the apps currently submitted and see where we stand. I will provide some feedback on your submission at that time. No worries if it's not ready by then, I just don't want to wait until the last minute to give those of you feedback that want it and then be overwhelmed with questions and apps. There will be more opportunities for review later as well.

[Jarl11]

Originally Posted by Ghostwheel

Made a few changes to my application.

Thanks for letting me know!

[Ghostwheel]

Originally Posted by Jarl11

Thanks for letting me know!

Yep, no probs

[Jarl11]

Any complaints if I were to move the deadlines closer by a week?

This would mean phase 1 deadline 17 July (your app would need to be ready by then). I'll make initial selections and we move onto phase 2, which would be complete one week later, around 24 July weekend. Final selections made at that point. That would give us the next week to sort out character sheets and get set up in the forum so we can start squishing PCs the game off by the end of the month.

Let me know your thoughts - good/bad!

EDIT - application list updated. B/G/F = beliefs/goals/fears. If you missed any of those I marked a "N" for no.