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Who Are the Savages?

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Dragons are meanies and keep lots of loot they don't need I highly encourage knocking them around.
 
They taste different depending on which ones you eat. Like some taste like leather. Some like smoky ashes. And yes you can wear their hides and even their bones.
 
Actually I can change that rule if you'd rather be something else?
 
Okay so they primarily live in big families that stay connected and do each other favors like even criminally they tend to be chaotic and follow their own hearts over laws or follow their families codes they scavenge equipment and what they eat so you might see a pack take down bigger creatures lone ones are not unheard of but are considered strange and both loved and hated by others of their kind. They can look like any kind of dog and live as long as young adult humans
 
SneakyKitten said:
Okay so they primarily live in big families that stay connected and do each other favors like even criminally they tend to be chaotic and follow their own hearts over laws or follow their families codes they scavenge equipment and what they eat so you might see a pack take down bigger creatures lone ones are not unheard of but are considered strange and both loved and hated by others of their kind. They can look like any kind of dog and live as long as young adult humans
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Wait so they only live into their twenties?
 
More like 30s but that's only because of how they are living and doing acts of Bravery that might get them killed if there are crafty they can live longer
 
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Marauding Gnoll
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    • Name: Kruaz Sulfursnuffle
    Age: 19
    Gender: Male
    Class: Marauder
    Appearance: The only patches of bare skin on Kruaz are where blade, arrow and shot have kissed him; black fur is split with tangles of pale scars across his chest, muzzle and flanks. His limbs are long and powerful, wrapped in bloody leather and rusted chainmail while his back is sheathed in a 'cape' of soot-blackened steel scalemail which serves to protect almost his entire body as he routinely fights hunched over. Beneath the armour he usually goes without clothing save a combination of loose leather jerkin and shorts, both of which are festooned with holsters for his many, many pistols. Pouches of shot and powder are to be found on the fringes of the scale-cape and for close quarters combat he packs a pair of matched hookswords. He is seldom without some kind of strong, bitter spirit.
    Backstory: Kruaz chooses not to remember his early life; it's the usual story for a gnoll. Born in a litter, raised as part of the pack. Kruaz' story diverges from the majority at the age of seven, when a group of human soldiers gunned down the pack for foraging in the midden. Kruaz was the sole survivor and from then on he was enamored of guns and gunpowder. Continuing the lifestyle of his former pack he roamed outlying human villages until he ran across a tossed pistol. A bit of work turned up the owner, a former soldier come home to raise a family on the farm. A few blood-drenched days later Kruaz knew exactly how to operate and care for his new favourite weapon. A few more years of skulduggery and banditry he had amassed a collection, each painstakingly cleaned and polished, treated less like a weapon or tool and more like a religious relic. There are quite a few towns where Kruaz is bitterly remembered by one-handed pickpockets-turned-beggars. Falling back into a rather inclusive new pack he gained the name of 'Sulfursnuffle' for the horrible odour that constantly surrounded him - lost on human or elven noses of course. Kruaz provided a terrifying new edge to the pack's raids and soon collected a small following of pups fascinated by the detonations of gunpowder. This is what doomed him to solitude once again, the parents of those wayward pups horrified at the stinking weapons they aspired to wield.
     
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    • munchkinomatic said:
    When do you plan on starting? This looks interesting but my next week is tied up
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    In a week so hopefully you won't be tied up when we start?

    And Gamer Lord your char is accepted. Very interesting backstory. :) Does he choose a side in the war or remain neutral like most gnolls?
     
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    Paladin Half-Human
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    • SneakyKitten said:
    In a week so hopefully you won't be tied up when we start?

    And Gamer Lord your char is accepted. Very interesting backstory. :) Does he choose a side in the war or remain neutral like most gnolls?
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    I hope so. I will be offline for five-six days, but I think I can poke my head in now and then.

    Anyway, on to the sheet:

    (Half-mortal)Dea Vult! We will take back Jerusalem... the trees?

    Name: Victus Macellarius
    Age: 36
    Gender: Male
    Class: Paladin
    -A Paladin walks into battle in heavy armor, with a sword in one hand and shield in the other. While intimately familiar with the rigor of war, their greatest weapon is not their blade, but the array of powerful Enchantments which they wield to bolster their men with giants' strength and lions' hearts.
    Appearance:
    A six foot tall knight decked in thick armor of shining steel with golden inlaid over blue silk, Invictus Macellarius is a figure out of fairy tales. The only thing that marr his heroic image is dozens of elven skulls sewn into the blue cape over his shoulders, though some say it only enhances the look.

    The only part of Victus himself that anyone has ever seen and was his baby blue eyes and a few strands of blonde hair, visible beneath his winged helmet.

    Backstory: Before you know the story that lead me here, it is more important to umderstand my cause.

    I fight for Vengeance. The sins of our Enemies are innumerable. To let these transgressions goes unanswered is to turn my back against justice.

    I fight for Protection. All lives are precious, and this endless wars only bring pain and suffering upon innocents. In an ideal world, there would be eternal peace between all races, but it is not so. It is the nature of beasts to prey upon others, and it is the nature of the Enemies to seek our ruinations. Against them, safety can only be bought with blood.

    I fight for Civilizations. We are the torchbearers. We, who scorned the barbaric and animalistic ways of beasts and trees, understood that Civilization and Nature are anathema, and that one can only exist through the subjugation of the later. One fact made all too clear when the Beast struck down the Goddess. The Enemies would have us slaves to the eternal cycle, another cogs in the grand machine. We wished to be free.

    I was just one of many. Another casualty of Elven aggression. Another orphan with nothing to but rags and rage. Another rafuge in the temple. Unlike the rest, however, I refused to let the rage die. Each night, I would call back that fateful night, when our ancient foes took my life away. I would relive the moment when my father fell, blood pouring from his mouth as arrows pierced his lung while I watched from my bedroom's window. I would relive the momebt when my mother tossed me onto the horse just before the stable caught fire, how she told me to run even as her body mushed under the hooves of stampeding animals. I welcomed the tears.

    But my story were just one drop in an ocean of suffering. So, everyday, I would seek out soldiers and refuge and try to pry a story from them. I would memorize their names, their pains and losses. My memory would fail me, of course, so I commited it all to paper. A book of sins, if you will. Each night, I could consult this tome, so that I will remember the Enemies' crimes against us all.

    Grief and rage were the fire, hatred the water. With them, I tempered my soul and body into a sword that would bleed the Enemies dry.

    Of course, it was a matter of time before I learnt of the first transgression: The death of our Goddess at the hand of the Beast that the elves worshipped. That, too, I committed to memory, along with all that the church had to teach. I was offered a chance to be inducted into the church militia, to give my strength in service of the Goddess and defence her flock against the tide of darkness. I was eager.

    But I was not satisfied with being a mere townguard. I wanted to take the fight to the Enemies, to strike them within their heart of power and cast them from their barbaric throne. So, I strove to join the Paladin Order, holy avengers destinied lead our armies to triumph over the forces of darkness. It was another gruelling four years of constant training.

    On the day of Innitiation, I made two Oaths, one was the Oath of Paladin, swearimg to defence the Goddess' flock and strike dowm the wolces that prowl in the night. The second was a more costly one that I made before the Goddess herself as I donned the armor I had commissioned, one that I had not taken off until this day. The armor, you see, was enchanted, so that the wearer may don it for an indeterminate amount of time. Better yet were the countless blunt spikes beneath the surfaces, digging into my flesh each hours.

    The armor will only come off once the last Enemy draw its last breath. Until then, this would be my penace for allowing their existence.

    It has been ten years since that day. Ten long years of war, one battle afrer the next, yet the Enemies still had us in a stalemate. As enjoyable as the battles are, I still hasn't forgotten the suffering that this war visit on the Goddess' flock. It would seem that even in death, she too weep for us, for she has delivered an opportunity for an end to this war.

    An Elven Princess coming to our King, no doubt to fill his ears with lies and treacheries. I will make a new banner from her skin and for when we march on their capital.
     
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    • Very emotional read. Accepted. He seems like he and Raven would get along quite well LOL. :p
     
    SneakyKitten said:
    Very emotional read. Accepted. He seems like he and Raven would get along quite well LOL. :p
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    I dunno, Raven seems pragmatic while he's more on the side of fanatic. He want to continue fighting because he genuinely believe that Elves, Orcs and "the Enemies" are just this big, singular blob of hive-minded puppy eating evilness.

    Sure, they'll get along on a professional level, just hope they don't sit down and talk too much.
     
    A good discussion about the nature of pragmatic survival versus fanaticism would spice up the RP quite a bit. I hope they do talk at some point. Maybe even argue. And then go kill some more enemies. Anyways, could someone remind me when a week is up? I'll be keeping track as best as I can.
     
    munchkinomatic said:
    I hope so. I will be offline for five-six days, but I think I can poke my head in now and then.

    Anyway, on to the sheet:

    (Half-mortal)Dea Vult! We will take back Jerusalem... the trees?

    Name: Victus Macellarius
    Age: 36
    Gender: Male
    Class: Paladin
    -A Paladin walks into battle in heavy armor, with a sword in one hand and shield in the other. While intimately familiar with the rigor of war, their greatest weapon is not their blade, but the array of powerful Enchantments which they wield to bolster their men with giants' strength and lions' hearts.
    Appearance:
    A six foot tall knight decked in thick armor of shining steel with golden inlaid over blue silk, Invictus Macellarius is a figure out of fairy tales. The only thing that marr his heroic image is dozens of elven skulls sewn into the blue cape over his shoulders, though some say it only enhances the look.

    The only part of Victus himself that anyone has ever seen and was his baby blue eyes and a few strands of blonde hair, visible beneath his winged helmet.

    Backstory: Before you know the story that lead me here, it is more important to umderstand my cause.

    I fight for Vengeance. The sins of our Enemies are innumerable. To let these transgressions goes unanswered is to turn my back against justice.

    I fight for Protection. All lives are precious, and this endless wars only bring pain and suffering upon innocents. In an ideal world, there would be eternal peace between all races, but it is not so. It is the nature of beasts to prey upon others, and it is the nature of the Enemies to seek our ruinations. Against them, safety can only be bought with blood.

    I fight for Civilizations. We are the torchbearers. We, who scorned the barbaric and animalistic ways of beasts and trees, understood that Civilization and Nature are anathema, and that one can only exist through the subjugation of the later. One fact made all too clear when the Beast struck down the Goddess. The Enemies would have us slaves to the eternal cycle, another cogs in the grand machine. We wished to be free.

    I was just one of many. Another casualty of Elven aggression. Another orphan with nothing to but rags and rage. Another rafuge in the temple. Unlike the rest, however, I refused to let the rage die. Each night, I would call back that fateful night, when our ancient foes took my life away. I would relive the moment when my father fell, blood pouring from his mouth as arrows pierced his lung while I watched from my bedroom's window. I would relive the momebt when my mother tossed me onto the horse just before the stable caught fire, how she told me to run even as her body mushed under the hooves of stampeding animals. I welcomed the tears.

    But my story were just one drop in an ocean of suffering. So, everyday, I would seek out soldiers and refuge and try to pry a story from them. I would memorize their names, their pains and losses. My memory would fail me, of course, so I commited it all to paper. A book of sins, if you will. Each night, I could consult this tome, so that I will remember the Enemies' crimes against us all.

    Grief and rage were the fire, hatred the water. With them, I tempered my soul and body into a sword that would bleed the Enemies dry.

    Of course, it was a matter of time before I learnt of the first transgression: The death of our Goddess at the hand of the Beast that the elves worshipped. That, too, I committed to memory, along with all that the church had to teach. I was offered a chance to be inducted into the church militia, to give my strength in service of the Goddess and defence her flock against the tide of darkness. I was eager.

    But I was not satisfied with being a mere townguard. I wanted to take the fight to the Enemies, to strike them within their heart of power and cast them from their barbaric throne. So, I strove to join the Paladin Order, holy avengers destinied lead our armies to triumph over the forces of darkness. It was another gruelling four years of constant training.

    On the day of Innitiation, I made two Oaths, one was the Oath of Paladin, swearimg to defence the Goddess' flock and strike dowm the wolces that prowl in the night. The second was a more costly one that I made before the Goddess herself as I donned the armor I had commissioned, one that I had not taken off until this day. The armor, you see, was enchanted, so that the wearer may don it for an indeterminate amount of time. Better yet were the countless blunt spikes beneath the surfaces, digging into my flesh each hours.

    The armor will only come off once the last Enemy draw its last breath. Until then, this would be my penace for allowing their existence.

    It has been ten years since that day. Ten long years of war, one battle afrer the next, yet the Enemies still had us in a stalemate. As enjoyable as the battles are, I still hasn't forgotten the suffering that this war visit on the Goddess' flock. It would seem that even in death, she too weep for us, for she has delivered an opportunity for an end to this war.

    An Elven Princess coming to our King, no doubt to fill his ears with lies and treacheries. I will make a new banner from her skin and for when we march on their capital.
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    I feel like he would be friends with Joe.
     
    Well-Intentioned Lieutenant
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    • Here's the lieutenant's biography:

    Name: Callie Vondra.
    Age: 33.
    Class: Spy Sister Lieutenant (Support based technology, potions mixing, diplomacy).
    Appearance: She has brown skin and brown hair done into a professional bun. Her clothing is a thin cloth top with short sleeves, over which she wears a blue jacket. Her skirt is navy blue and reaches her knees. Callie wears wedge heeled shoes and conservative makeups styles.
    Background: Raised in a happy middle class home she like Raven was conscripted by the King at around the same time, except she happened to be older. Callie always abides by the rules and tries not to upset anyone. She secretly tried her hardest to attain the spy mistress position but Raven showed more aptitude for necessary decisions and she was made her lieutenant instead. Callie has a reputation among the other soldiers for being a bit soft and shy.

    The woman has undergone several missions into elven and orc territories. She is occasionally accompanied by a female dwarf spy sister who helps her disarm traps or use support technology along with tactical advice. Callie specializes in supportive technologies as well such as potions to bolster the person's mind and body, reinforcing armors and fixing weapons. Her dearest wish is to end the war with the least amount of bloodshed.
     
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