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Born: 7 July 1988
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Joined: 5-June 17
Last Seen: Feb 16 2018, 03:23 PM
Local Time: Jun 22 2018, 03:04 AM
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Oct 19 2017, 10:30 AM
Name: Grumni Grumbolsson
Race: Dwarf of Barak Varr
Allegiance: Barak Varr
Occupation: Former Ranger of the Barak Varr military, now a mercenary for hire.
Appearance: Grumni is a stout dwarf who only a few weeks ago had a full blonde beard and a long mane of blonde hair. Recent events have resulted in a great length of his beard being cut off, and his hair being cut half its length. A variety of barely healed scars on his face hint that he didn't approve of either result, though effort was made to at least braid his now much shorter beard.
Athletically he is fit for a dwarf, with the muscles of someone who is both active and well-fed (emphasis on "well fed"). To humans he would appear strong and able to hold his own in a wrestling match; to dwarves, Grumni would be recognized as an average warrior.
Equipment: He's currently wearing a motley of dark, tattered clothing and animal hide. A quiver made from overlapping plant fibers is around his hip, along with a curved dark elven blade. In his quiver are bamboo arrows with stone arrowheads, and a bow recently fashioned from a young branch and a boot string.
Skills: Grumni is trained with the bow and crossbow as well as with an axe and shield. He's got experience at hunting and tracking, fletching, bow-making, and whittling. As a ranger, this dwarf is also used to employing several survival skills, such as fire-making, working with clay and wood, making clean water, and trapping and skinning animals.
Magic: This dwarf has no aptitude for magic.
Personality: While he maintains the sometimes hardened, proud demeanor of his people, Grumni is a dwarf of Barak Varr, which is known to be the most welcoming and friendly of the Dwarf holds. To that end, most would find him a deal more approachable that the mountain dwarves, though his years of fighting greenskins and serving time in the military have created a balanced personality in him.
Still, Grumni is known for his outspoken demeanor and transparent emotions. He's blunt and to the point most times, but rarely means to cause harm. Most would describe him as a dwarf to count on when help is needed, but to be mindful of his temper.
History: The second-born son of five, Grumni found himself as an example for his younger siblings even while growing in the shadow of his older brother. Grumbol, his father, was and remains a successful merchant in Barak Varr, and his mother comes from a fairly well-to-do family there. In all aspects, he had an very easy childhood.
As Grumni grew older, he knew he needed to set himself apart from his brother, who had earned a name for himself and the family. Being fairly gifted athletically, the second-born son decided to enlist as a Ranger for the Barak Varr military. After years of service and training, Grumni stood out as one of the best of the Barak Varr ranger corps. He was skilled with his weapons and took part in many defenses against greenskins as wel as attackers from the sea.
In recent days, a traveling Dwarf merchant came to Barak Var and approached many of those in the military with mercenary work. He wanted to travel to the lost keep of Karak Zorn and made promises of treasure within the abandoned dwarf hold. Grumni, unsatisfied with the level of prestige in the military, and eager to make a name from himself, resigned from his duties and took the merchant up on his wager.
Unfortunately, the trip was doomed. After the crew had been all accounted for and set sail southward, they were intercepted by a black ark on its way back from raiding Bretonnia, and were utterly destroyed. Though the dwarves fought well and slew many of the dark elves, they could not stem the overwhelming tide against them. Grumni and two other dwarves survived the attack, and were held prisoner as the black ark ventured eastward. The two other dwarves met their end along the journey, but Grumni remained. He was tortured in many ways, mostly for amusement, and to test his senses. It wouldn't be until Clar Karond when he was finally freed by an unlikely force.
Player Name: Laegras
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The dwarf awoke as he had many times the past few days, from the splash of cold water onto his face. At first, the pain from the manacles biting into the flesh of his wrists had woken him from the small bits of rest his body willed him into. The chains were purposefully short, and were each fastened to a wooden post to each side of him. He'd grown numb to the pain of leaning against them during his slumber, so the dark elves had resorted to using buckets of water to wake him.
What was left of his beard bristled, and a low growl rumbled from his throat. A sharp pain erupted on his cheek, and the dwarf growled again as he opened his eyes and saw the same black-haired torturer he'd seen for weeks. A thin dark elf in black armor armor, with his hair cut to his shoulders and a malicious grin.
"Come now, dawi," the man sing-songed, as he rounded up a steel-tipped whip. "No one sleeps at this hour. Especially you."
Grumni's cheek felt hot, and pulsed as it stung. He humored the dark elf the shortest gaze, before looking at the ground in front of him. The whip lashed out again, and bit into his bicep. The dwarf's lip curled as he fought to hide his pain.
"You will look at me when I speak," the elf demanded firmly, like a schoolteacher. "Besides, there's hardly anything interesting on the ground. We have plans today, dawi. Not for you, but your friends will have to say goodbye, I'm afraid."
The dwarf tried ever feebly to look over his shoulder, but he could not turn far enough to glimpse the other two dwarves who were chained up similarly not far from him. He hadn't known them before the trip from Barak Varr, but here on the black ark, they were his kin. The three had been the only survivors of the dark elf attack, and though they were punished any time they tried to talk to each other, Grumni felt the smallest comfort in that he was not alone. Yet from the sound of it, now he would be.
"It seems we'll be fighting our brethren in Ulthuan again," the torturer continued. "They're bound to put up far more of a fight than you and your friends did, even if it was...prolonged. I'm afraid we require the favor of Khaine, for this venture. And Khaine demands blood."
Grumni's full attention settled upon the elf. He felt the veins in his arms pulse, and his skin reddened with fury. They'd taken all of his weapons and thrown them overboard. His clothes were gone, and try as he might, the dwarf was not able to break the manacles fastened around his wrists. He simmered on the edge of boiling as he glared at the dark elf, who smirked amusingly at the dwarf's reaction.
"You're a gutless weasel," the dwarf murmured, loud enough for the torturer to hear.
The lithe man grinned even more, and lazily threw his whip from side to side like a cat's tail.
"I don't remember saying you could speak," the dark elf declared. "Are we feeling a bit roused, today?"
It was all Grumni could do to keep from trying to break his manacles, even though he knew the action would have been feeble. Pride stung him worse than anything the elf could do; he'd failed not only his crew, but now his kin. All he could do was seethe and glare at the cool arrogance that manifested before him.
"By Grimnir I'll send you to your grave before I draw my last breath," the dwarf promised, his voice ragged and low.
"Oh? And how will you do that when you're chained to a post?" the elf inquired. "Even if I released you, you and your friends will still die. Just like your crew. You are weak, and your gods have abandoned you. Your fate is not written yet, dawi. You will remain."
"COWARD!" Grumni shouted as he fought against his chains. "I'LL BREAK THAT BLOODY SMILE AND SPILL THE MARROW FROM YOUR SPINE! RELEASE ME!"
The whip struck him again.
Jun 5 2017, 11:31 PM
Name: Katla Wagner
Age: 18 as of 2503
Race: Human, of Talabecland
Allegiance: Originally the Empire, at present she is loosely allied to a band of outlaws.
Appearance: A lithe, athletic woman just barely over five and a half feet in height and weighing about one-hundred and twenty pounds. She is pale-skinned and has a mess of curly, black hair that nearly reaches the bottom of her neck. Her eyes have a yellow hue, with narrow irises commonly associated with felines. In her human form, one can clearly see that one of the woman's arms is covered in fur and claws extend from that hand. The fur itself spreads to cover her shoulder and part of her chest, though few have actually seen this.
When she takes on her were-form, Katla becomes a dark-furred monster with elongated fangs and claws. Her bones and muscles become larger and stronger, and she grows to over seven feet in height. The back legs of this form break and change to resemble the hindlegs of a feline.
Equipment: She wears mostly dark, leather clothing, often dyed black, olive, or brown to match her forest surroundings. A hooded cotton cloak, dyed dark brown, shrouds her form whenever she ventures outside of her house. Though she only carries a hip-quiver and bow while hunting, the weapon she carries at all times is a sheathed shortsword at her waist. Around her neck is a very loose leather cord with a small crystal arrowhead fastened to it.
Skills: She is adept with the bow and arrow, as well as basic trap-making, which are both self-taught from having to survive on her own. Katla knows how to conceal herself and move silently when she needs to, as well as how to follow trails and heighten her perception. All of these skills come from living in the wild, of course, but for Katla they were gained moreso through living as a werecreature.
Magic: She cannot manipulate the winds of magic outside of changing to her were-form, currently.
Personality: Katla is fairly snarky as is common with pretty girls her age, even in her current situation. She was born with an appetite for adventure and experiencing new things, but ever since she changed into the creature she is now, some of that spark has faded. Due to only communicating with outlaws, she has become a great deal more wary around people, and not as quick to trust others. Most would say that she has a fiery personality, often arguing with other people about various things and not afraid to speak her mind on any matter. Those closer to her know she is also prone to lengthened moments of thoughtfulness and reservation, when she doesn't think people are looking.
History: Born to a fairly normal middle-class family in a small town in Talabecland, Katla was the first child of two by her parents. Her father was a notable knight and member of the Talabec army, and was often gone for lengths of time as he was called away to campaigns. This, combined with her mother's unprepared introduction to raising a child, led to Katla becoming fairly independent.
She was the child who always crossed the line. Climbing the high roofs, agitating farm animals for fun, and stealing from unassuming merchants were things that Katla did on the norm. Every time her mother would say "Don't do," Katla would. Often she would go unpunished for these actions, for her mother was continually distracted by a small number of affairs she had while her husband was away. When she was punished, it was by her father. A sore behind, being locked in her room, and being forced to do thankless chores was enough to teach Katla consequences, but not lessons.
Through her formative years, the young girl had a small number of kids she played with. As the years went by, their number thinned and she was forced to visit taverns and alleys to befriend those who shared her adventurous nature. Unfortunately, this led to her falling in with a bad crowd.
A few days after she turned sixteen, Katla allowed herself to be pressured into stealing from someone outside of her village. She'd been told that it was some hermit who had been seen stealing animals from the village and making odd sounds at night, but none of the talk dissuaded her. The friends of hers arranged that night to creep through the woods and sneak into the hermit's camp, and managed to coerce Katla into taking the lead. She accepted, and relished the promise of danger and excitement.
At night, she led four others through the moonlit trees and came upon the hermit's camp. Upon seeing the symbols etched into the ground, and the dangling bones all around the hermit's tent and elsewhere, Katla knew something was not right. At the moment she stepped upon the symbol on the ground, it came alive with a bright red light, and the hermit, or so she thought he was, erupted from the tent.
When she laid her eyes upon him, she knew he wasn't a hermit. Later she would find out that the five of them had stumbled into the camp of a Chaos Adept, but at the time, all she could think was to run. She found her body unwilling to move, however, and could clearly see a twisted wooden staff in one of the hermit's hands. She was paralyzed. If not for the greed of those she'd traveled with, surely the adept would have slain her there. The four of them rushed forward and after a small struggle, stabbed the man to a point he could not recover from.
In his last moments, the adept uttered a curse upon Katla. As the words left his mouth, she felt the greatest pain she'd ever felt in her life. Bones broke and reshaped. Claws ripped through the tips of her fingers. Skin stretched, and muscles tightened and rippled. Fur sprouted all over her body. It took seconds for her "friends" to abandon her. She chased them for a time, pleading for them to help her, but it was to no avail. Eventually, she relaxed and lost most of her were-form excluding a fur-covered, clawed arm and yellow eyes.
Though she knew it would be pointless, Katla returned to her home the next day, in the dark of night. Upon seeing her form, her father, mother, and little brother had to cover their mouths to keep from screaming. They did not, to her gratefulness, try to kill her, but they also did not welcome her. After an argument that shed many tears and cracked a wooden table, Katla's father told her she would not be able to stay. Mercifully, or so he saw it, her father provided her with clothing, a sword, quiver, bow, and food to last her a few days. The one thing he did not give her, was an embrace. With tear-clouded eyes, he opened the door to their home and saw her off.
Hurt beyond words, lost, and lonely, Katla dove into the forest. She traveled for a couple days, long enough to get a good distance away from the village she had known most of her life. Whether it was her own luck, or the mercy of the gods, the teenage girl eventually happened upon an abandoned wooden shack near a river. She quickly learned that it had been the home of a witch in times past, though they had been long gone by now.
For the next two years, Katla lived in the shack. She learned how to hunt, trap, and survive in the world as a werecreature. The young woman ran into a band of outlaws at one point, who recognized her new talents and made a sort of alliance with her. In return for goods and services they offered, she kept their territory safe from any forces that challenged them, and helped them with raids that required her skills. It wasn't the family she missed, but the outlaws talked to her as normally as most people she'd met before. One of them even took a fancy to her, and was known to, at rare times, pay her visits. Through him, she came to know herself as a woman, though she also found herself sleeping with those of her gender.
At the present, Katla is surviving. She has heard rumors of war abroad, and has herself witnessed beings enter the forest that she'd never seen before. The young woman has an itch telling her to leave her current home, but indecision and the comfort of her known surroundings are currently causing her to fight herself on what to do. She knows she'll have to make a decision soon.
Player Name: Laegras
Feedback Format: PM
RP Sample: With the cover of the dark clouds overhead, the shrouded moon would would do little to reveal the werecreature to anyone. As she hunched among the bushes, Katla knew even the night-sighted eyes of the forest owls would find it difficult to notice her. Covered in black fur, and attuned to the sounds around her, the young woman was at home in the dark forest, and had a clear advantage against the figure she watched make its way through the undergrowth.
It was quite creepy, honestly. She thought at first it was a deer wandering through the trees, until she saw its humanoid arms and legs. The thing's eyes were darting in every direction, and it panted through an open mouth. Was that drool dripping from its tongue?
Gross. Close your stupid mouth, Katla thought.
Still, she made no move to intercept it just yet. If it had been a deer, she had planned on surprising it and killing it for food, but now that she had seen it's true form, there would be nothing of the sort. Even after existing as a werecreature for two years, the young woman feared what mutant flesh would do to her. She didn't need any more mutations, if that's even what had happened to her. No, she wouldn't feed on it. Surely, her traps had caught something.
As a raven took flight twenty yards away, a branch fell and rustled among the bushes below. The sound alerted the mutant, who shot its gaze toward the movement.
"Wh-who is there?" it called out in a half baying, half masculine voice. The sound deeply unsettled Katla, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.
The creature continued to stare in the direction of the bushes, and fingered a wooden cudgel nervously.
"I'll eat you!" it shouted loudly, though fear was evident in its tone.
Katla shuddered silently, but made no movement to betray herself. A few moments lingered before the mutant groaned helplessly and kept moving through the forest. The young woman let it pass, and was honestly quite happy to.
That's the third one this week, she thought. Any more and the band will ask me to start killing them.
The thought made her frown.
Hopefully this is the last one.
Jun 5 2017, 02:07 PM
Galobrak brought me over here from another forum, I'll be digging into the site and hopefully making a character shortly!