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 10, 2021 23:04:45 GMT -5
"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." "That is the truth." Azaran concedes, taking a seat on one of the logs they had rolled here. "I've seen the same in my travels, very often. However I've also seen that hard times bring people together, and I believe that the end of all known civilization may be a large enough hardship to do so for a long time to come." Azaran looks up to the sky...or at least what he can see through the mist. He ponders for a moment as he stares, before an ever-so-slight smile crosses his face. "This place reminds me of an old story." He recalls. "About the land of the gods. The first thing to appear out of the primordial sea, followed by the first three gods themselves. Who knows, maybe this is that island, and if it is, maybe its divine soil could help bond us too." He says, mostly to himself. He didn't expect Hrukka to have the same mythos he and his people did, but it was too interesting a thought for him to keep to himself.
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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 11, 2021 7:37:32 GMT -5
"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." "That is the truth." Azaran concedes, taking a seat on one of the logs they had rolled here. "I've seen the same in my travels, very often. However I've also seen that hard times bring people together, and I believe that the end of all known civilization may be a large enough hardship to do so for a long time to come." Azaran looks up to the sky...or at least what he can see through the mist. He ponders for a moment as he stares, before an ever-so-slight smile crosses his face. "This place reminds me of an old story." He recalls. "About the land of the gods. The first thing to appear out of the primordial sea, followed by the first three gods themselves. Who knows, maybe this is that island, and if it is, maybe its divine soil could help bond us too." He says, mostly to himself. He didn't expect Hrukka to have the same mythos he and his people did, but it was too interesting a thought for him to keep to himself.Hrukka hummed an affirmative as he took out an odd little tool. It seemed to be a reel of string in a metal implement, with a large piece of colored chalk held against the the string by the metal. "Stand there, will ye?" He asked him, pointing to a particular spot.
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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 11, 2021 18:59:49 GMT -5
"That is the truth." Azaran concedes, taking a seat on one of the logs they had rolled here. "I've seen the same in my travels, very often. However I've also seen that hard times bring people together, and I believe that the end of all known civilization may be a large enough hardship to do so for a long time to come." Azaran looks up to the sky...or at least what he can see through the mist. He ponders for a moment as he stares, before an ever-so-slight smile crosses his face. "This place reminds me of an old story." He recalls. "About the land of the gods. The first thing to appear out of the primordial sea, followed by the first three gods themselves. Who knows, maybe this is that island, and if it is, maybe its divine soil could help bond us too." He says, mostly to himself. He didn't expect Hrukka to have the same mythos he and his people did, but it was too interesting a thought for him to keep to himself. Hrukka hummed an affirmative as he took out an odd little tool. It seemed to be a reel of string in a metal implement, with a large piece of colored chalk held against the the string by the metal. "Stand there, will ye?" He asked him, pointing to a particular spot. Azaran brings a hand to his chin to stroke his beard, head tilting slightly in curiosity. "Alright." He says, walking to the designated spot. "What is that tool, by chance?" He asks.
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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 11, 2021 19:23:53 GMT -5
Hrukka hummed an affirmative as he took out an odd little tool. It seemed to be a reel of string in a metal implement, with a large piece of colored chalk held against the the string by the metal. "Stand there, will ye?" He asked him, pointing to a particular spot. Azaran brings a hand to his chin to stroke his beard, head tilting slightly in curiosity. "Alright." He says, walking to the designated spot. "What is that tool, by chance?" He asks. "This," he handed azeran the end of the string. "Is a chalk line." He told him, walking backwards a ways, before stopping. He knelt down, holding the implement to the ground. He motioned for Azaran to hold hus end down.
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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 11, 2021 19:40:21 GMT -5
Azaran brings a hand to his chin to stroke his beard, head tilting slightly in curiosity. "Alright." He says, walking to the designated spot. "What is that tool, by chance?" He asks. "This," he handed azeran the end of the string. "Is a chalk line." He told him, walking backwards a ways, before stopping. He knelt down, holding the implement to the ground. He motioned for Azaran to hold hus end down. "I see." Azaran responds, flipping it over in his fingers a few time to inspect it, before kneeling to the ground, placing his end near to the dirt. "For...measurement, I assume?" He asks, debating with himself whether it was for length measurement or just to get a straight line.
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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 11, 2021 20:00:24 GMT -5
"This," he handed azeran the end of the string. "Is a chalk line." He told him, walking backwards a ways, before stopping. He knelt down, holding the implement to the ground. He motioned for Azaran to hold hus end down. "I see." Azaran responds, flipping it over in his fingers a few time to inspect it, before kneeling to the ground, placing his end near to the dirt. "For...measurement, I assume?" He asks, debating with himself whether it was for length measurement or just to get a straight line. Hrukka let his actions speak for himself. He firmly dug his end of the line in place, so that it was taut, and stood up. He walked about to the middle of string. He pulled it up, similar to the string of an instrument, and then let it snap back. He motioned for Azaran to let go of his end, then began winding the string up. In it's place was a bright blue chalk line on the ground, nice and straight.
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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 14, 2021 20:11:45 GMT -5
"I see." Azaran responds, flipping it over in his fingers a few time to inspect it, before kneeling to the ground, placing his end near to the dirt. "For...measurement, I assume?" He asks, debating with himself whether it was for length measurement or just to get a straight line. Hrukka let his actions speak for himself. He firmly dug his end of the line in place, so that it was taut, and stood up. He walked about to the middle of string. He pulled it up, similar to the string of an instrument, and then let it snap back. He motioned for Azaran to let go of his end, then began winding the string up. In it's place was a bright blue chalk line on the ground, nice and straight. Azaran watches inquisitively. He still wasn't quite sure what the purpose of this line was exactly, but he figured the function would reveal itself soon as Hrukka began to utilize it.
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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 15, 2021 19:50:29 GMT -5
Hrukka let his actions speak for himself. He firmly dug his end of the line in place, so that it was taut, and stood up. He walked about to the middle of string. He pulled it up, similar to the string of an instrument, and then let it snap back. He motioned for Azaran to let go of his end, then began winding the string up. In it's place was a bright blue chalk line on the ground, nice and straight. Azaran watches inquisitively. He still wasn't quite sure what the purpose of this line was exactly, but he figured the function would reveal itself soon as Hrukka began to utilize it. "This, my good man," Hrukka explained, "is meant for making lines easily on the ground. Now, if ye'll help me, i need to make a few more of thede."
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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 17, 2021 20:44:39 GMT -5
Azaran watches inquisitively. He still wasn't quite sure what the purpose of this line was exactly, but he figured the function would reveal itself soon as Hrukka began to utilize it. "This, my good man," Hrukka explained, "is meant for making lines easily on the ground. Now, if ye'll help me, i need to make a few more of thede." "Oh, I see." Azaran says, stroking the scruff growing on his chin as he moves to help Hrukka with the next line. "And what might these lines be for in this case, might I ask?"
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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 18, 2021 20:03:04 GMT -5
"This, my good man," Hrukka explained, "is meant for making lines easily on the ground. Now, if ye'll help me, i need to make a few more of thede." "Oh, I see." Azaran says, stroking the scruff growing on his chin as he moves to help Hrukka with the next line. "And what might these lines be for in this case, might I ask?" "The outline for a pallisade, and if my measurements are right a moat."
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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 18, 2021 21:06:28 GMT -5
"Oh, I see." Azaran says, stroking the scruff growing on his chin as he moves to help Hrukka with the next line. "And what might these lines be for in this case, might I ask?" "The outline for a pallisade, and if my measurements are right a moat." "Oh!" Azaran exclaims, understanding coming across his face when he hears that. "Alright, that makes sense then." He moves to put his end at the one end of the line that they had already drawn. "I am assuming based on the size that a second trip might be necessary." He says, thinking out loud.
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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 19, 2021 9:50:10 GMT -5
"The outline for a pallisade, and if my measurements are right a moat." "Oh!" Azaran exclaims, understanding coming across his face when he hears that. "Alright, that makes sense then." He moves to put his end at the one end of the line that they had already drawn. "I am assuming based on the size that a second trip might be necessary." He says, thinking out loud."Aye. Such is our lot in life eh?" he joked as he move to make the next line.
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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 19, 2021 18:13:23 GMT -5
"Oh!" Azaran exclaims, understanding coming across his face when he hears that. "Alright, that makes sense then." He moves to put his end at the one end of the line that they had already drawn. "I am assuming based on the size that a second trip might be necessary." He says, thinking out loud. "Aye. Such is our lot in life eh?" he joked as he move to make the next line. "That it is." Azaran says in return. "But it happens to be a good lot to have, in my experience. Simple labor like this is much more fulfilling than the conflicts of a battlefield or a royal court. And a much better way to help the people around you."
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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 19, 2021 19:15:05 GMT -5
"Aye. Such is our lot in life eh?" he joked as he move to make the next line. "That it is." Azaran says in return. "But it happens to be a good lot to have, in my experience. Simple labor like this is much more fulfilling than the conflicts of a battlefield or a royal court. And a much better way to help the people around you.""Aye, though I never was on the front lines. I got lucky in that respect."
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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 19, 2021 19:53:15 GMT -5
"That it is." Azaran says in return. "But it happens to be a good lot to have, in my experience. Simple labor like this is much more fulfilling than the conflicts of a battlefield or a royal court. And a much better way to help the people around you." "Aye, though I never was on the front lines. I got lucky in that respect." "Indeed you were. I was never on the battlefield of a war, I refused to out of principle, but I often helped protect villages from bandits. I take no pride in what had to be done in a few of those cases, but there was little choice otherwise." He laments.
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