Usque
Committed
Roleplay posts: 80
Biography: This is the NPC account for the people of the Usque
Allegiances: Tana the Tongue Tied
Place of Residence: Trinity Island and Sindarin
Registered: Mar 24, 2021 9:55:43 GMT -5
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Post by Usque on Jun 14, 2021 9:33:56 GMT -5
This is the construction site (so far) of the new village. One will see plenty of activity with those who are helping with the build. The plans so far are to have the village look like so:
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jun 17, 2021 15:42:07 GMT -5
Azaran heaves, rolling the log they had cut down all the way to the site of the village, laying it next to what they had already brought there. He takes a step back to look at what they'd gathered, satisfied with a job well done. That being said, he was also exhausted from both helping to cut down and transport these trees here, and needed a break. Taking a seat nearby, Azaran takes off his helmet and leans back on his arms, feeling a lazy breeze brush by him as he listens to the lovely sounds of the forest. He stays like that for a moment longer, savoring the moment. After the breeze dies down, putting an end to that split second of simply taking time to do nothing but exist, Azaran leans back forwards and removes the hook from his back, taking out a cloth to wipe the wood remnants off of its edge. "If I might say, I believe we did a pretty good job there." Azaran says to Hrukka. "That should at least be enough to get started."
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Hrukka
Committed
Roleplay posts: 79
Age: 34 years
Appearance: Large, burly and green. Nearly 7 feet tall. Wears ragged underclothes and large plate armor painted yellow. His inner self is only 7 inches tall.
Equipment: Heavy plated armor. Small bag of "snacks". Battle axe and near claymore-length sword he wields one-handed. Pocket knife (or rather, a dagger by a human's point of view) he uses for carving wood. Small wooden charm on a necklace his "Mudda" gave him.
Skills and Abilities: Skilled woodcarver and carpenter. Extremely strong for his size, as well as a high pain tolerance. (After all, his main body is fungi, with limited pain receptors.) The ability to regrow limbs of his large body after eating some of his "snacks".
Biography: A fairly simple git,(His words, not mine) Hrukka spent most of his life in his village in the outskirts of the town of..... "Grrharglakka". At the age of 21, he set out to seek his fortune, working as a combat engineer of a local warlord. He went home years later to see his ailing mother, only to find his village burned down by the very warlord he was working with. After he "krumped" the warlord, he built a rough ship, and sailed off to find his future.
Registered: Apr 8, 2021 12:29:02 GMT -5
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Post by Hrukka on Jun 17, 2021 17:40:13 GMT -5
Azaran heaves, rolling the log they had cut down all the way to the site of the village, laying it next to what they had already brought there. He takes a step back to look at what they'd gathered, satisfied with a job well done. That being said, he was also exhausted from both helping to cut down and transport these trees here, and needed a break. Taking a seat nearby, Azaran takes off his helmet and leans back on his arms, feeling a lazy breeze brush by him as he listens to the lovely sounds of the forest. He stays like that for a moment longer, savoring the moment. After the breeze dies down, putting an end to that split second of simply taking time to do nothing but exist, Azaran leans back forwards and removes the hook from his back, taking out a cloth to wipe the wood remnants off of its edge. "If I might say, I believe we did a pretty good job there." Azaran says to Hrukka. "That should at least be enough to get started." "Aye lad, hopefully this should be a good start. Poor lass, hopefully she won't be afraid of coming back here." He said, taking a look around the settlement.
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jun 17, 2021 18:19:47 GMT -5
Azaran heaves, rolling the log they had cut down all the way to the site of the village, laying it next to what they had already brought there. He takes a step back to look at what they'd gathered, satisfied with a job well done. That being said, he was also exhausted from both helping to cut down and transport these trees here, and needed a break. Taking a seat nearby, Azaran takes off his helmet and leans back on his arms, feeling a lazy breeze brush by him as he listens to the lovely sounds of the forest. He stays like that for a moment longer, savoring the moment. After the breeze dies down, putting an end to that split second of simply taking time to do nothing but exist, Azaran leans back forwards and removes the hook from his back, taking out a cloth to wipe the wood remnants off of its edge. "If I might say, I believe we did a pretty good job there." Azaran says to Hrukka. "That should at least be enough to get started." "Aye lad, hopefully this should be a good start. Poor lass, hopefully she won't be afraid of coming back here." He said, taking a look around the settlement. Azaran looks over to him. "Is this where the attack happened?" Azaran asks Hrukka.
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Hrukka
Committed
Roleplay posts: 79
Age: 34 years
Appearance: Large, burly and green. Nearly 7 feet tall. Wears ragged underclothes and large plate armor painted yellow. His inner self is only 7 inches tall.
Equipment: Heavy plated armor. Small bag of "snacks". Battle axe and near claymore-length sword he wields one-handed. Pocket knife (or rather, a dagger by a human's point of view) he uses for carving wood. Small wooden charm on a necklace his "Mudda" gave him.
Skills and Abilities: Skilled woodcarver and carpenter. Extremely strong for his size, as well as a high pain tolerance. (After all, his main body is fungi, with limited pain receptors.) The ability to regrow limbs of his large body after eating some of his "snacks".
Biography: A fairly simple git,(His words, not mine) Hrukka spent most of his life in his village in the outskirts of the town of..... "Grrharglakka". At the age of 21, he set out to seek his fortune, working as a combat engineer of a local warlord. He went home years later to see his ailing mother, only to find his village burned down by the very warlord he was working with. After he "krumped" the warlord, he built a rough ship, and sailed off to find his future.
Registered: Apr 8, 2021 12:29:02 GMT -5
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Post by Hrukka on Jun 17, 2021 19:58:59 GMT -5
"Aye lad, hopefully this should be a good start. Poor lass, hopefully she won't be afraid of coming back here." He said, taking a look around the settlement. Azaran looks over to him. "Is this where the attack happened?" Azaran asks Hrukka. "A little ways that way," he pointed to his left, "but aye. Now, where is my plane...." Hrukka wondered, looking around for it. The tool had dropped off a little ways back.
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jun 17, 2021 21:57:33 GMT -5
Azaran looks over to him. "Is this where the attack happened?" Azaran asks Hrukka. "A little ways that way," he pointed to his left, "but aye. Now, where is my plane...." Hrukka wondered, looking around for it. The tool had dropped off a little ways back. Azaran frowns slightly, considering this. "And the creature itself is dead?" He asks, setting down his hook and going to help look for the plane.
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Hrukka
Committed
Roleplay posts: 79
Age: 34 years
Appearance: Large, burly and green. Nearly 7 feet tall. Wears ragged underclothes and large plate armor painted yellow. His inner self is only 7 inches tall.
Equipment: Heavy plated armor. Small bag of "snacks". Battle axe and near claymore-length sword he wields one-handed. Pocket knife (or rather, a dagger by a human's point of view) he uses for carving wood. Small wooden charm on a necklace his "Mudda" gave him.
Skills and Abilities: Skilled woodcarver and carpenter. Extremely strong for his size, as well as a high pain tolerance. (After all, his main body is fungi, with limited pain receptors.) The ability to regrow limbs of his large body after eating some of his "snacks".
Biography: A fairly simple git,(His words, not mine) Hrukka spent most of his life in his village in the outskirts of the town of..... "Grrharglakka". At the age of 21, he set out to seek his fortune, working as a combat engineer of a local warlord. He went home years later to see his ailing mother, only to find his village burned down by the very warlord he was working with. After he "krumped" the warlord, he built a rough ship, and sailed off to find his future.
Registered: Apr 8, 2021 12:29:02 GMT -5
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Post by Hrukka on Jun 18, 2021 14:58:01 GMT -5
"A little ways that way," he pointed to his left, "but aye. Now, where is my plane...." Hrukka wondered, looking around for it. The tool had dropped off a little ways back. Azaran frowns slightly, considering this. "And the creature itself is dead?" He asks, setting down his hook and going to help look for the plane. "Aye. The beast died right quickly, not before it had poisoned the poor lass though."
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jun 18, 2021 20:48:46 GMT -5
Azaran frowns slightly, considering this. "And the creature itself is dead?" He asks, setting down his hook and going to help look for the plane. "Aye. The beast died right quickly, not before it had poisoned the poor lass though." "Hm..." Azaran thinks deeply, troubled by something. He spots what be believes to be the tool on their path in and picks it up, showing it to Hrukka. "I think I found it. Back to my questions though...do you believe it was the only one?"
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Hrukka
Committed
Roleplay posts: 79
Age: 34 years
Appearance: Large, burly and green. Nearly 7 feet tall. Wears ragged underclothes and large plate armor painted yellow. His inner self is only 7 inches tall.
Equipment: Heavy plated armor. Small bag of "snacks". Battle axe and near claymore-length sword he wields one-handed. Pocket knife (or rather, a dagger by a human's point of view) he uses for carving wood. Small wooden charm on a necklace his "Mudda" gave him.
Skills and Abilities: Skilled woodcarver and carpenter. Extremely strong for his size, as well as a high pain tolerance. (After all, his main body is fungi, with limited pain receptors.) The ability to regrow limbs of his large body after eating some of his "snacks".
Biography: A fairly simple git,(His words, not mine) Hrukka spent most of his life in his village in the outskirts of the town of..... "Grrharglakka". At the age of 21, he set out to seek his fortune, working as a combat engineer of a local warlord. He went home years later to see his ailing mother, only to find his village burned down by the very warlord he was working with. After he "krumped" the warlord, he built a rough ship, and sailed off to find his future.
Registered: Apr 8, 2021 12:29:02 GMT -5
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Post by Hrukka on Jun 18, 2021 21:07:33 GMT -5
"Aye. The beast died right quickly, not before it had poisoned the poor lass though." "Hm..." Azaran thinks deeply, troubled by something. He spots what be believes to be the tool on their path in and picks it up, showing it to Hrukka. "I think I found it. Back to my questions though...do you believe it was the only one?" "No way to know lad, thank ye" he added, taking the plane. "But I'd reckon there'd be a few more about."
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jun 21, 2021 21:02:34 GMT -5
"Hm..." Azaran thinks deeply, troubled by something. He spots what be believes to be the tool on their path in and picks it up, showing it to Hrukka. "I think I found it. Back to my questions though...do you believe it was the only one?" "No way to know lad, thank ye" he added, taking the plane. "But I'd reckon there'd be a few more about." Azaran walks back over to the hook he laid on the ground, picking it up and securing it on his back. "In that case, perhaps we should try to keep them at bay as well, be that with a wall or some defenses, or even a party to search for more if need be." He ponders aloud, looking around the village-to-be.
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Hrukka
Committed
Roleplay posts: 79
Age: 34 years
Appearance: Large, burly and green. Nearly 7 feet tall. Wears ragged underclothes and large plate armor painted yellow. His inner self is only 7 inches tall.
Equipment: Heavy plated armor. Small bag of "snacks". Battle axe and near claymore-length sword he wields one-handed. Pocket knife (or rather, a dagger by a human's point of view) he uses for carving wood. Small wooden charm on a necklace his "Mudda" gave him.
Skills and Abilities: Skilled woodcarver and carpenter. Extremely strong for his size, as well as a high pain tolerance. (After all, his main body is fungi, with limited pain receptors.) The ability to regrow limbs of his large body after eating some of his "snacks".
Biography: A fairly simple git,(His words, not mine) Hrukka spent most of his life in his village in the outskirts of the town of..... "Grrharglakka". At the age of 21, he set out to seek his fortune, working as a combat engineer of a local warlord. He went home years later to see his ailing mother, only to find his village burned down by the very warlord he was working with. After he "krumped" the warlord, he built a rough ship, and sailed off to find his future.
Registered: Apr 8, 2021 12:29:02 GMT -5
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Post by Hrukka on Jun 28, 2021 14:47:43 GMT -5
"No way to know lad, thank ye" he added, taking the plane. "But I'd reckon there'd be a few more about." Azaran walks back over to the hook he laid on the ground, picking it up and securing it on his back. "In that case, perhaps we should try to keep them at bay as well, be that with a wall or some defenses, or even a party to search for more if need be." He ponders aloud, looking around the village-to-be. "Aye, perhaps we should. Being in the trees should be an excellent defense itself. However, a palisade and gate aught to do the trick, eh?"
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jun 29, 2021 12:15:57 GMT -5
Azaran walks back over to the hook he laid on the ground, picking it up and securing it on his back. "In that case, perhaps we should try to keep them at bay as well, be that with a wall or some defenses, or even a party to search for more if need be." He ponders aloud, looking around the village-to-be. "Aye, perhaps we should. Being in the trees should be an excellent defense itself. However, a palisade and gate aught to do the trick, eh?" "I should think so." Azaran replies, eyeing out the perimeter in particular. "Perhaps an added moat, or at the least a trench, around the palisade. And if so inclined perhaps just leave the ground in front of the gate, to prevent the need for a bridge."
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Hrukka
Committed
Roleplay posts: 79
Age: 34 years
Appearance: Large, burly and green. Nearly 7 feet tall. Wears ragged underclothes and large plate armor painted yellow. His inner self is only 7 inches tall.
Equipment: Heavy plated armor. Small bag of "snacks". Battle axe and near claymore-length sword he wields one-handed. Pocket knife (or rather, a dagger by a human's point of view) he uses for carving wood. Small wooden charm on a necklace his "Mudda" gave him.
Skills and Abilities: Skilled woodcarver and carpenter. Extremely strong for his size, as well as a high pain tolerance. (After all, his main body is fungi, with limited pain receptors.) The ability to regrow limbs of his large body after eating some of his "snacks".
Biography: A fairly simple git,(His words, not mine) Hrukka spent most of his life in his village in the outskirts of the town of..... "Grrharglakka". At the age of 21, he set out to seek his fortune, working as a combat engineer of a local warlord. He went home years later to see his ailing mother, only to find his village burned down by the very warlord he was working with. After he "krumped" the warlord, he built a rough ship, and sailed off to find his future.
Registered: Apr 8, 2021 12:29:02 GMT -5
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Post by Hrukka on Jul 6, 2021 13:59:27 GMT -5
"Aye, perhaps we should. Being in the trees should be an excellent defense itself. However, a palisade and gate aught to do the trick, eh?" "I should think so." Azaran replies, eyeing out the perimeter in particular. "Perhaps an added moat, or at the least a trench, around the palisade. And if so inclined perhaps just leave the ground in front of the gate, to prevent the need for a bridge." "Ye know? I never thought I'd be back building forts again. Thought after I retired that'd be the last of that." Hrukka mused.
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Azaran the Wanderer
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 100
Age: Early 30s
Appearance: (Drawing commissioned, done by Griffith)
Azaran is roughly 5'7", with a muscular, athletic build. He has black hair, cut short to his head, along with a pair of purple eyes. His hair is usually hidden by his armored helmet, however, one with a star-esque face opening and black markings along the top of the head. He wears a purple sleeved shirt underneath a steel cuirass, with pauldrons going out over the shoulders. He wears tanned pants, as well as a pair of armored greaves.
Equipment: As well as his armor, Azaran carries with him few supplies, mainly a waterskin and a small pouch for some food and general supplies as he travels. To protect himself, however, he carries a basic heater shield and what seems to be a hook made out of black metal, sharpened to a short blade at the far end with sharp points on both ends, and a rounded point design on the back. Although it seems unassuming, it can also materialize what seems to be a translucent purple rope-like structure wrapping around the uppermost part of the hook, and extending out any length up to 20ft or so, with a barbed hook at the end. The rope seems extremely hard to break, and the hook seems to be sharp as a blade.
Skills and Abilities: Despite his hesitance to use it, Azaran is very skilled at fighting, and due to the copious amount of time he spends out in the wilderness he is an excellent survivalist, knowing how to spend weeks at a time on his own on travels between civilizations.
Biography: Growing up, Azaran Ðyáhmo lived in the lap of luxury, sheltered from the harsh realities of the rest of his people in the archipelago. His parents, Duke and Duchess of the region, kept him away from seeing that. However, as time went on, his curiosity got the better of him. One night, while his family was sleeping, he snuck out of the palace, to see the world outside. To his dismay, the people were struggling. His parents focused more on their party lives that the lives of the people they were supposed to serve. Disease ran rampant, people were starving in the streets, and bandits robbed in broad daylight. When he returned to his home in the early hours in the morning, he vowed to make his world a better place, one person at a time. He forsook his parents' name, and stole their most precious heirloom, the God Hook Déshimoh, whisking it away in the dead of night to wander the countryside, never staying in one place long, passing along the good fortunes of comradery to his people. Even after the flood destroyed everything, though, he didn't give up, and he plans to spread the same word around this world as well.
Registered: Apr 13, 2021 17:52:55 GMT -5
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Post by Azaran the Wanderer on Jul 6, 2021 16:03:10 GMT -5
"I should think so." Azaran replies, eyeing out the perimeter in particular. "Perhaps an added moat, or at the least a trench, around the palisade. And if so inclined perhaps just leave the ground in front of the gate, to prevent the need for a bridge." "Ye know? I never thought I'd be back building forts again. Thought after I retired that'd be the last of that." Hrukka mused. "I cannot say I've ever helped build one, to be honest. I have helped to repair them before, but never built one proper." Azaran replies. "Though, at least this time it is to protect from beasts, and not bandits or other malicious people." He looks around. "Here is to hoping that, if the floodwaters did anything good, it was bringing us together. I have seen enough human conflict for too many lifetimes, and perhaps this shared disaster will let us stand as one, instead of fracturing us further." Azaran gives a somber chuckle. "Though, that optimism most likely is in vain, is it not? If such a thing were possible, it is only fair to assume that is how we would have started out in the first place."
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Hrukka
Committed
Roleplay posts: 79
Age: 34 years
Appearance: Large, burly and green. Nearly 7 feet tall. Wears ragged underclothes and large plate armor painted yellow. His inner self is only 7 inches tall.
Equipment: Heavy plated armor. Small bag of "snacks". Battle axe and near claymore-length sword he wields one-handed. Pocket knife (or rather, a dagger by a human's point of view) he uses for carving wood. Small wooden charm on a necklace his "Mudda" gave him.
Skills and Abilities: Skilled woodcarver and carpenter. Extremely strong for his size, as well as a high pain tolerance. (After all, his main body is fungi, with limited pain receptors.) The ability to regrow limbs of his large body after eating some of his "snacks".
Biography: A fairly simple git,(His words, not mine) Hrukka spent most of his life in his village in the outskirts of the town of..... "Grrharglakka". At the age of 21, he set out to seek his fortune, working as a combat engineer of a local warlord. He went home years later to see his ailing mother, only to find his village burned down by the very warlord he was working with. After he "krumped" the warlord, he built a rough ship, and sailed off to find his future.
Registered: Apr 8, 2021 12:29:02 GMT -5
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Post by Hrukka on Jul 9, 2021 15:52:09 GMT -5
"Ye know? I never thought I'd be back building forts again. Thought after I retired that'd be the last of that." Hrukka mused. "I cannot say I've ever helped build one, to be honest. I have helped to repair them before, but never built one proper." Azaran replies. "Though, at least this time it is to protect from beasts, and not bandits or other malicious people." He looks around. "Here is to hoping that, if the floodwaters did anything good, it was bringing us together. I have seen enough human conflict for too many lifetimes, and perhaps this shared disaster will let us stand as one, instead of fracturing us further." Azaran gives a somber chuckle. "Though, that optimism most likely is in vain, is it not? If such a thing were possible, it is only fair to assume that is how we would have started out in the first place." "As much as I'd like to say that it will, I doubt it." Hrruka told him, "Mortals have a way of finding things to bicker over. Saw many in my time in the army."
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