What is your character's story?

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What is your character's story?

Postby Tularen » Wed May 25, 2005 12:18 pm

I have met many people who role play in Belegarth.
I enjoy hearing good background stories they have made for their character. I personally don't role play, and don't have a background story, but this all might change.

So, please post your story, I am interested in reading them.
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Postby Tularen » Wed May 25, 2005 12:19 pm

(Yes I know I could have editted the first post, but I want people to actually read the first post)

Since I don't have a story for all of you to read. I figured I would post my unit Captain's story.
------------------------------------
A?Layl comes from a land of simplicity. Born to a father being of the last lines of leprechauns, and a mother raised a simple farm-girl, A?Layl hid his dubious ancestry and meager inheritence by delving into the learnings and lore of the simple community in which he was raised.

As a boy he spent his days plowing fields and hunting with his neighbors in the nearby woods. He was taught to read at an early age by his father, who wished him to be able to read music and join the local choir. Having no talent of voice whatsoever, A?Layl applied his newfound literary skill elsewhere and was soon accepted to University in the lands of Numenor.

He studied well, and soon would have become a respectable sage of science, where it not for the darkening of the lands and the rise of evil within the world. War was waged upon the mighty Numenorians, and all care for study was given up in desire for life and freedom.

Many of the women and children of the realm fled to whatever safe havens they might find, and indeed, most of the University students used what privileges they had to secure a discreet passage out of the lands. Even though he considered himself below the rank of the common folk of such a great nation, A?Layl still could not bring himself to flee his new home. In the chaos that ensued, he acquired himself a small sword and sturdy shield, and stood by his precious university for fear of ransack by filthy orcs, who have no love for books or knowledge.

After the initial surge of battle, one of the noblemen of the country, one Sir Kegg of Westfield, decided to establish an elite fighting unit dedicated to the protection of the lands. This unit was the Heidoran, or Spears of the West. A?Layl joined this unit after having heard of the glory attained by and the camaraderie shared by the members. He was well accepted by the group, and was soon helping to bring victories to the side of Humanity.

After a short while, Haardgrim, the leader of the Heidoran, offered to teach A?Layl how to use a pole-arm. This was standard practice with the members of the unit, but A?Layl took to a spear like a poet to a pen.

Soon, Haardgrim was called to sail East, across the sea, and the Heidoran was left in the care of Borric ConDoin. A knightly soul, if ever one existed, Borric encouraged A?Layl?s pursuits of pole-arming, and was deft in utilizing this weapon in battle. Delighted with the function and utility of pole-arms, A?Layl became one of the fastest spearmen in the West.

Soon again, Borric was called Eastward, across the sea, and the leadership of the Heidoran needed to be passed to a new generation. Borric saw fit to entrust the safety and security of the lands to A?Layl, who holds the title of captain to this day.

While often called to warfare, A?Layl maintains a calm disposition, and still pursues knowledge when given the leisure to do so. A quick friend, and steady ally, he will always be ready, with the support of the Heidoran, for a call from those in need.
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Postby hea! » Wed May 25, 2005 11:54 pm

Hea! woke up one day and decide to * off a friend named Ambrosse. Hea! decided to fight in the great wars he had herd of growing up in a tomb of an super sexy queen of Blaa, his home land, and when out to kill ambrosse. Sad thing is, Hea! can fight worth ****.
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Postby Kadlin » Sun Jun 05, 2005 11:04 pm

I'm still making my background. Some of it is unraveling in the role-play forum here.
Yea that's right, cross the street so you don't have to deal with me....

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Postby Jerlaine » Fri Jun 10, 2005 12:15 am

My character's story came about in the Old Kingdom of Oasis... He killed off my old character due to a problem in the group and became Captain of Defender's of The Rose... He then disbanded them shortly after the first demon wars... During those wars however he came up missing for a few days then reappeared out of no where... His persona had changed from good to what he is now... After he disbanded Defender's he went on a personal quest where he confronted a demonhe had a grudge with... After an intense battle he finaly won, but was seriously wounded... Something happened during the battle however and now he can't remember anything before that battle... Every now and then he does have flash backs though of a cruel dungeon that he can't seem to find now... We'll have to wait for the portal to open and release the demon horde again t find out the rest...
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Postby Tularen » Tue Jun 21, 2005 1:13 pm

Interesting. Loved it!!

Keep em coming.
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Postby Malark » Tue Jun 21, 2005 4:57 pm

Name: Malark Evenwood
Class: Barbarian Priest of Kali
Race: 1/3 Goblin, 1/3 Viking, 1/3 Giant
Alignment: Chaotic, just Chaotic
Deity: Kali or Odin, depending on the day
Unit: Dread Gate Mercenary

Short History:
Created for the purpose of keeping his master (a genetic engineering sorcerer) company and his masters stables clean, he initially paled in comparison to his older brother, who was half Merovingian and half elven royalty. His brother was killed in a stable accident, leaving him his master?s only heir.

After his creator?s castle was sacked by the resident guard, he was adopted as a member of the Rogue Still-Leaf Band. The Rogue Still-Leaf Band is a community of half-elves who wage terrorist style war on supremist pure elves. The leaders of this Band were an Amazon warrior named Lee Hoyi and a Priest of Odin named Nycovian, both who taught him most of what he knows. Here he developed most of his fighting skill.

After suffering a devastating defeat at the hand of Nero Iscariot, Malark was captured and sold into orcish slavery. He then was taught the ways of Kali by his brutal orcish master. After killing his captor, he fled into Dresden Swamp where he entered a strange realm of magic that sent him to the distant land of Gorathannon. There, he joined up with Ulryn's Band, which reminded him slightly of the Rogue Still-Leaf Band. After that unit disbanded, he spent awhile as a freelance killer, eventually gaining initiation into the Dread Gate Mercenary Alliance. He now is on a tour of duty, seeking blood and glory wherever he can.
It is better to die for something than to live for nothing.
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Postby Domoviyr » Wed Jun 22, 2005 9:28 pm

Name: Finn Domoviyr
Class: Transmutationist Sniper
Race: Faery

Short History:

The Fae named Finn Domoviyr was born under the Harvest Moon in a Magnolia in the central Silvan Burgh of the Seelie Court. He was born during the climax of an electric storm, in which the only instant the lightning stopped was for the few minutes that his flower opened. Then the lightning resumed its fury, all around a small fae boy who sat in his flower with an amused look on his face. He was destined to be a Mage.

He had the luck of getting Cratsocres as his master. Cratsocres was a kindly old fae who had his own idealistic visions of how civilization should be run, and took interest in Finn at a young age because of his skill and eagerness to learn. Finn couldn?t have had a better master, for Cratsocres encouraged his creativity and urged him to take in as much as possible from the world.

He learned exceptionally quick and achieved the rank of Top Pupil even though he was the youngest in his class. He could do even high level spells at a relatively low stage of development, and learned the journeyman spells long before he went on his pilgrimage. But a prodigy like him couldn?t live without getting into trouble.

Even though he was skilled in all forms of fae magicks, he was a regular expert in Transmutation. He delighted in turning invisible and wreaking playful havoc all over the burgh. He once made the king?s britches disappear?during the Kings? Inauguration Speech. He had a regular habit of stealing into various homes and turning the milk bad, spoiling meat, and putting pianos out of tune. He was a nuisance in his young years, and though most people knew it was him doing these things, they couldn?t prove it. Not even the local detectives could get enough evidence on him to convict him of even minor misdemeanors. This is why, even before he left for his journey, he was employed by the King?s Counter-Intelligence Agency.

Finally, he graduated to the level of Journeyman. For his quest, he was told to go to the Golden Tree of the Phoenix and retrieve an eggshell from the Phoenix?s nest. He left, not knowing that when he said good-bye to Cratsocres, it would be the last time he ever saw him.

He journeyed for thirty days before coming to the Great Tree, encountering perils such as cats, spiders, and very large ponds; things which would have been a problem if he didn?t have so much knowledge of Transmutation. When he got there he didn?t stop a minute to rest, instead proceeding to the top of the tree where the Phoenix resided. To be able to take one of her eggshells, he had to perform three tasks:
1. Rebuild the nest
2. Preen the Phoenix, all three hundred seventy three thousand feathers
3. Protect her youngest chick while she went in search of food

All these he did to the utmost of the Phoenix?s desire, and at last she consented to give him her eggshell. While he was there she taught him more magicks, as did the forest on the way to and from the Great Tree. He returned home, expecting to pass his master test with ease. He found the Silvan Forest far different than the one he left.

He arrived home to find the place under new administration. The old regime, which had been accepting and tolerant, had been toppled for a stricter, far more controlling regime in light of the recent attacks by the Unseelie Court. A draft had been initiated for all the soldiers born to fight had been conscripted and weren?t doing the quick job the Drathist Regime wanted. This new regime also had put the clamps on Freedom of Speech, so much that outspoken fae like Cratsocres had been imprisoned for disorderly conduct. Needless to say, you can?t take your master text if your master is in prison. It?s also rather difficult to take if you were drafted the second you set foot in the city gates.

The Drathist Regime was waging a war on the Unseelie separatists, trench style, and so Finn was plunged straight into boot camp without much prep time. His superiors found him to be an excellent sniper, with arrows guided by his magick, and quickly put him in the sharpshooter?s brigade. His commanding officer was a veteran of two Unseelie Wars, so their unit saw more combat than most others simply because their commander was experienced.

Finn was scarred by the horrors of trench warfare: the famine, corruption, desperation, and death left a deep mark in his psyche. After three trips to the M.A.S.H. mental ward, he was battle-hardened and desensitized enough to endure the hardships presented in the trench. He killed without thinking and gained the respect and fear of his comrades for his sheer brutality and accuracy. Where once was a playful boy pulling annoying pranks for fun was a callous veteran of the most bloody of the Great Fae Wars.

After the war was over, he returned home to attempt to salvage the life he had once led. He found that Cratsocres had died in prison, almost all of his classmates had been killed in the War, and the Drathist Regime hadn?t loosened their grip on the rights of the fae yet. His veterans pay cut, his home seized, and his life ruined, he turned his back on the city he once loved and left forever, becoming a wandering nomad.
Victory favors neither the righteous nor the wicked. It favors the prepared.

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Postby Ebony Mafika » Sat Jun 25, 2005 6:47 pm

Name: Ebony Mafika Bleedinghand
Race: Fae Drow
Thanks to my good friend I am now able to put this down:
Ebony Mafika Bleadinghand was born into a small band of drow and had not lived for more than two years when a fae woman thought that it would be funny to steal a drow child and see what happened, so she did. She never knew what the childs real name was and instead decided to give the child a name she created- Ebony (dark skin) Mafika (why not!) Bleadinghand (the young drow learned at a very young age that arrow tips are not for grabbing!)
During the time Ebony lived with the fae there was a large drow band that had reached into the caves near by. At the end of Ebony's twenty three years with the fae the drow attacked her home and killed the fae. Ebony was taken as a slave.
Back with the drow she was branded on the forehead with a slave brand and put on the front lines in a slave archery division. She never recieved training in swordsmanship. When asked her name she only gave her first and last saving her middle name for when she escaped. After another thirty years had gone by Ebony had done her best to be perfect. Her commander one day was short of scouts and because she had been good decided to let her go if she promiced to return. She promiced and returned a few minutes later with the enemy right at her heals just as she had planned. The commander had no time to replace her slave bracelet and so she shot him down after a few minutes of battle and escaped to the surface with her bow.
When she reached the surface she wandered for a few months eventually finding out that she was wanted for treason and desertion. Right now she's still wandering a bit, but has made more of a base area for herself.

I'm still working out gliches in the story but that's basically it.
Now... Bring me that horizon!
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Postby nashova » Sun Jun 26, 2005 2:19 pm

Jerlaine wrote:My character's story came about in the Old Kingdom of Oasis... He killed off my old character due to a problem in the group and became Captain of Defender's of The Rose... He then disbanded them shortly after the first demon wars...



Jerlaine quit trying to save fase the Defender's of the Rose where all killed by one person Spawn except for you so the only one you could have disbanded is your self
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Postby Jerlaine » Sun Jun 26, 2005 10:38 pm

Hmm. It seems I don't ever remember him killing them off though. And if so no one had told me at the time. So as far as I am concerned I don't care what he say's about it.
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Postby Tularen » Tue Jun 28, 2005 1:38 pm

This is great. Very creative.

Don't stop, if you are reading this, you gotta post.
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Postby Valandil » Sun Jul 03, 2005 12:51 pm

Name: Valandil
Title: Baron of the WestWoods of Alfhiem
Class: Fighter/Ranger/Noble

I lived in a far away village miles for Alfhiem, then one day my Family and loved ones were all killed by Orcs and kin! From that day I would all ways hunt and destroy all Orc and there Kind! Then I wonder for years until I met an Elf, Fasco was his name his family was also destroyed by the same Orc Chieftain. Fasco and I then wondered the woods of the western dale for many years tracking orcs. Fasco and I then began to form a band of Elves the help hunt down all the orcs. We had destroyed all the orcs with the help of the Mithril host an Exiled band of elves for the North lands. There the Gen. of the Mithril host had made me a Cpt. Of the 3rd legion of the Mithril host. Our numbers then grow very quickly as the Elven Army when to war expending the realm of the elves. I was made the Cmn. Of the Home guard when the Armies were afar. Then one day, the Gen. of the Mithril host claimed Lordship over all the elves in the South, he was our king. The Exiled elves were no longer lost! With in this kingdom I was made a Baron over the Westwoods, the same woods I lived and hunted orc. My trusted Knight, Fasco was sent on an errand by the crown to the Northlands to seek out any elves then may still live?. It has been years since we had heard form him but we know he is still doing his job to the Alfar.
We don't ask how many or how strong we just ask where.

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Postby Ryoma » Sun Jul 03, 2005 11:47 pm

Name: Kusaragi Ryoma
Race: Human
Class: Ronin

Ryoma was born of a noble lineage with a fair amount of social standing in the far-eastern Ashikage region of the Hontoshu Empire. Being that he was the ninth in a line of prominent swordsmen, he was trained from a very young age in the art of swordsmanship. He proved to be quite skilled in these arts, and gained a solid reputation throughout the region. Once he reached a suitable age, Ryoma set out on his own to use his martial skills by pursuing a career as a samurai. After pledging himself to the service of the feudal lord Ishihara, who controlled a considerable amount of territory in the Godai region. He climbed the ranks, eventually becoming one of Ishihara's personal bodyguards. Unfortunately, Ryoma's lucrative career came to an end when the Emperor stripped the feudal lords of their power in order to reform the Imperial Government. Sensing that the age of the sword had come to an end in Hontoshu, the unemployed Ronin travelled westward by sea, hoping that he could use his skill as a swordsman to forge a new life as a wandering swordsman in the western kindgoms.
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hmm

Postby slippy » Mon Jul 04, 2005 3:56 am

my name came from one called stinky pete(hawk eye pete) my race is unknown at the moment cause i havn't found one to fit my personality.
my name slippy is from constantly slipping on the feild. i am in utah at the moment 15 learning the trade. ha ha ha.
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Postby TarynPriestofBob » Sat Jul 16, 2005 11:53 pm

Full Name: Taranthryn Moyrlochlon Silverwing.

Born in the Scottish Moors, and trained from a very early age in the art of the greatsword, Taryn came to the lands of Dur-Demarion more than a decade ago, travelling from the Chaos Lands. In his short time here, many things have happened. Three marriages(one recent), one daughter(since disappeared), a very short appointment as head of the Assassin's Guild(given up due to time constraints and personal tastes, and recently, he found his vocational calling. In his spare time, he would personally travel around to the various campsites, spreading his word and good cheer.

Known to some, friendly to all, and unfortunately hated by more than a few, he has known the pain of loss. . .as well as the loss of pain.

Hail Bob.
That which I should, I do not. That which I should not, I do constantly.

All Hail Bob
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Postby TarynPriestofBob » Sat Jul 16, 2005 11:54 pm

Full Name: Taranthryn Moyrlochlon Silverwing.

Born in the Scottish Moors, and trained from a very early age in the art of the greatsword, Taryn came to the lands of Dur-Demarion more than a decade ago, travelling from the Chaos Lands. In his short time here, many things have happened. Three marriages(one recent), one daughter(since disappeared), a very short appointment as head of the Assassin's Guild(given up due to time constraints and personal tastes, and recently, he found his vocational calling. In his spare time, he would personally travel around to the various campsites, spreading his word and good cheer.

Known to some, friendly to all, and unfortunately hated by more than a few, he has known the pain of loss. . .as well as the loss of pain.

Hail Bob.
That which I should, I do not. That which I should not, I do constantly.

All Hail Bob
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Postby Drystan Bladesmith » Wed Jul 20, 2005 12:27 pm

Name: Drystan Anger Bladsmith
Race: Human
Born: 1358
Father: Anger Bladsmith
Mother: Arianell Devonald

Anger Bladsmith was the town of Lincolnshire, England's Bladesmith. In July of 1357, he traveled to Swansea, Wales, on a business trip to buy more steel. While he was there he met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her name was Arianell Devonald. They fell in love with each other right away and were married in August, 1357. Anger took Arianell Back home to Lincolnshire to live. On the twenty-seventh day of June, 1358 they had a son. They decided to name him Drystan after Arianell's Father. Drystan had a happy childhood until 1363 when his mother was killed by a wild horse. This devastated his Father who was never very happy after Arianell's death, but tried his best to bring up Drystan by himself. Since Anger was a bladesmith he tuaght his son the way of the sword. Drystan grew up learning all he could of swordfighting. He was a brave boy growing up, always the one to climb tall trees. In 1370 when Drystan was twelve years old he showed his bravery to everyone in the village when one of his friends, Trewe climbed up into a very tall tree. When Trewe was about twenty feet up the tree, one of the branches he was climbing on started to creak. It was evident to Drystan below that the branch was about to break so he climbed up and just in time he grabbed Trewe's hand as the branch broke and fell. Because of his bravery growing up his father told him he should join the english army. Drystan joined the english army at age eighteen in 1376. He was so brave in the army he was always the one on the front lines.He made many friends in the army, the best of which was another brave man named Giles. He fought many battles in the Hundred Year's War. Once when he and Giles were fighting side by side, Giles was knocked onto the ground and his weapon flew out of his hand. A man was running at Giles from behind and Giles did not see him until it was too late. Just as the man swung his sword at Giles, Drystan steped in and saved Giles life. Drystan's weapon of choice was almost always the Greatsword though he favored longswords and just about any long weapons. He remains one of the most heroic, valiant men of the english army.
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Postby Aidoann Fvctvlike » Tue Aug 09, 2005 12:37 pm

Name: Aidoann Fvctvlike
Race: Native, baby!
Born: 1810

Basically, I'm playing one of my own ancestors, but adapting myself to the fantasy/medieval setting. I'm Mvskoke, of "the five civilized tribes" as the occupation force likes to call them. I'm a traveler, I've spent years trekking across Turtle Island, following the sun. I finally came to the ocean, and decided I would just go and see what I could over there too, so I traveled waaay north and traded with an aleut hunter who could take me across the sea of ice. over on the other side, I met all kinds of different people, many of whom welcomed me into their home for food and companionship in exchange for my story. I have sailed with fishermen and raiders, I have rode with the horsemen of the north, whose small ponies carry them like wind over the steppes, I have fought alongside the great Hwarang warriors of the south, who devote their lives to the protection of the people. So many I've met in my journeys, so many stories, and such a wealth of knowledge acquired. So now I follow the sun again, looking for the next interesting thing to come over the horizon.

P.S. Hail Bob
Keoma stepped outside and found it was too cold. So she bade the sun rise and then cursed, "Sh*t! Now it's too bright!"
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Postby Tularen » Wed Aug 10, 2005 8:55 am

Cool, wish I was creative...
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Postby Aidoann Fvctvlike » Thu Aug 11, 2005 12:04 pm

I'm not that creative. just kind of a Dork.
Keoma stepped outside and found it was too cold. So she bade the sun rise and then cursed, "Sh*t! Now it's too bright!"
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Postby Tularen » Fri Aug 12, 2005 8:32 am

This is definitely the place to be a dork, and not worry about it
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Postby Maciah » Fri Aug 12, 2005 10:25 pm

Name: Makito
Race: Leo'Vem de Griever Sol
Age: Beyond reckoning
Place of Origin: Yauni

My character is a beastial creature whom lived peacefully with the spirits of the wood for countless thousands of years. Then a horde of orcs, following the elves west before they could reach the Undying Lands, landed apon Yauni and slaughtered all the wood spirits and desecrating Makito's temple. In great rage Makito slaughtered all the foul creatures and set their supplies a blaze. After weeping for three days he crafted a raft from fallen trees and sailed east towards the land known as the Shire. From there he has many grand adventures battling the forces of Mordor and Isengard.

Side Note: Makito is a 12ft tall lion-like demonoid, that does not age, has the ability to change his aura, astral travel, form various weaker bodies out of any matter and is immune to the Ring-Wraiths fear aura and their Morgul blades.

Name: Maciah
Race: Leo'Vem de Griever Lune
Age:Beyond Reckoning
Origin: Makito

Maciah is the opposite of Makito. Where Makito values life and honors the beauty of things, Maciah sees only the self and values the pleasures of the more degrading. Sex, death, war, famine, hate, envy, battle. All these things spur Maciah on. In the beginning Makito and Maciah were one being with parts of eachother in one. Then apon the destruction of their homeland Maciah pulled himself away from Makito and flew off into the world; he killed and destroyed. Becoming the dark thing he wanted Maciah returned to challenge Makito, to prove that he was the stronger side. Maciah quickly took Makito down and approached for the kill when Makito lunged forward and forced the essence of Maciah back into his own heart. Maciah respects Makito to some extent and leaves when he wishes and speaks to Makito as a friend. Together they have become the Leo'Vem de Griever.

Side Note: Maciah is a 8ft tall lion-like demonoid, that does not age, has the ability to change his aura, astral travel, form various weaker bodies out of any matter and is immune to the Ring-Wraiths fear aura and their Morgul blades.
Last edited by Maciah on Thu Apr 06, 2006 4:35 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby Shyftir » Sat Sep 24, 2005 3:33 pm

My name is .... unimportant. You may call me Shyftir. I have lived a simple life. I have lived a violent life. I have lived a far flung life. Many places, many people but always my heart yearns for my home. You may think you know who I am, you may think you know where I come from, but you are mistaken. Through each culture I have journeyed through I have adapted. I am called Shyftir for I change.

Now for actual information.
Name: Shyftir
Race: Pending
um actually I've got to put more time into this maybe later.
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Postby Nanashi » Mon Oct 03, 2005 11:37 pm

Nanashi rough translation from japanese= Nameless (in my protest of being denied the name Kiyosuke I proclaimed I'd remain as Nameless until they let me use the name and well Kitrina utter Nanashi and by accident I got named)

Born in japan, as the result of an affair between a german trader and japanesse seamtress. Nanashi's heirtage limted his choice of apprenticeship, since no craftsman would entrust the secerts of thier trade to some one half outsider. At 13 Nanashi caught a break. Fishing and sailing where two of the few less zealously guarded trades, and there was a boat in need of an extra hand.

Having been found faulty for so many other postions Nanashi took in all the knowledge his crewmates shared with him like a sponge. Five years later Nanashi could snag a job where ever their was a ship. Imagine his surprize when the same old crew went pirate and raided the ship he'd been hired on. After the long swim to shore, Nanashi had decide it was time for a slight career change.

By the next week he had tracked down the old crew, stolen their ship, and pocketed their loot for himself. And Nanashi the pirate was born.

Unfortunately, coin tend to be a tad addictive. Raids became a bit too common, and he attracted the wrong sort of attention, got too greedy. Mind you he didn't kill any one bright enough to simply hand over the loot. But still all that coin being lost, sooner or later the lords are goaded into action. In this case a ship load of spear men in full armor. This time Nanashi was faced with two options, attempt to fight off full armed soilders with a dagger, or another long swim. Well the it was a good night for a swim any way.

After words, he snagged what little of his loot he could, and booked passage ont he first ship to europe, after all, now seemed like a good time to explore that side of the family tree. Unfortunately, it things had gone any better for that side of the family... So discontent he took to wondering, posing as a philospher, and dabbler in poetry, Nanashi wondered for a year.

However the loot ran short, Nanashi got lost, and was a * poor hunter. It was by chance that Nanashi colllasped ont he door steped of Kihose, and Coda the huntresses home. Having feeded the half straved, vague reformed rogue, Nanshi Fell in with the Rhineland based Clan of the Kitsune.

Some character quirks

distrusting sandals and boots, Nanashi alls goes bare foot (from his days as a ship hand)

Often spats with Ki. Often over the matter of wheater his fishing or Codas hunting brings home more meat, or whatever matter is at hand.

Often spars with Ki, which often results minor injuries from Kis slightly over zealous attacks.
"oh its tuilo, oh crap he's armored!"
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Postby Kestrel Redwing » Sat Oct 15, 2005 1:26 pm

((Please note that this story was written for use in RPGs, and that there are some factors that are not true. Example, I have neither a pet kestrel nor a pony.))

Name: Kestrel Redwing
Race: Tallfellow Halfling
Class: Nomad warrior

Kestrel started out her life as Daisy Elderwood, a wild, precocious child who often strayed away from her village when she should have been staying at her mother's side. Many of her adventures led her to the forest surrounding her village, and it was from there that the band of orcs followed her home one day druing what she believes to be her ninth summer.

Her village was a peaceful one, and when the orcs saw that they had no knowledge of the ways of war, they bargained with the village elders and finally agreed that one person from each family would be taken and sold as a slave in exchange for the rest of the inhabitants being spared. Though her father was about to go for their family, Daisy volunteered herself, believing it to be the beginning of the adventure she had always dreamed of leading.

She was soon sold into the servitude of Redwing, reigning warlord of the Wingfighters clan, and it was finally decided that she would be put to work in the kitchens under the watch of an old dwarf by the name of Berrac.
Daisy worked in the kitchens for two years, learning to put up with Berrac's constant taunting and extra work that came with standing up to him. Finally, she grew tired of living with his aggravating demeanor, and, in a fit of anger, leapt at the old dwarf with a serrated kitchen knife, only to be stopped by Redwing, who asked to speak with her in the garden.

The elf admitted that he had noticed something different about Daisy the day he had bought her, and had watched her constantly since then. It was not until this day that he realized what an affinity for fighting she had, and offered her a place in his family and clan, as his adopted daughter, to train for battle along with his other adopted children and his two biological children, and son named Jay and a daughter named Starling. Daisy agreed, taking on the name Kestrel after the smallest member of the falcon family, and soon assumed responsibility for a young male kestrel who she named Streak and a speckled war-pony named Dapple.

For years, Kestrel trained under her adopted father with her siblings, and learned elven magic as well as honed her own, race-given abilities. She adopted Redwing's style of fighting: florentine, with two single-edged swords and no shield. It was in her sixteenth year that her life once again took a turn.

That winter, the Wingfighters warred with a neighboring clan, the Blaze, over land at their borders. During the months-long war, only half of Kestrel's clan were lost to an enemy's blade, and it was Redwing's own, final clash with the leader of the Blaze that sealed the Wingfighters as rightful owners of Half-Forged River. But Redwing did not survive.

Lying on his deathbed the day after the war ended, Redwing revealed to Kestrel that he had always known that she did not want to be rooted down to one home, but to travel her entire life as a nomad warrior. He gave her a choice: she could either remain with the Wingfighters and take on the role of clan leader, or leave the clan and take on the nomad way of life, knowing that she would always be welcome within their borders. Kestrel chose the latter, giving the title of leader to her eldest adopted brother, Jay. Before he died, Redwing made Kestrel a gift of his own twin blades, which she accepted, but later gave to Jay to display in their father's mausoleum when he was laid to rest. The following morning, before her comrades and family awoke, Kestrel left the one place she considered a home, leaving a note to her siblings in hopes that their paths would cross again one day.

She has traveled for years since then, and has since lost track of where she has been or how many years she has behind her. With Streak and Dapple her only companions, she offers her help and her blades to those she feels are in need.
Last edited by Kestrel Redwing on Sat Oct 15, 2005 2:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Valhalla » Sat Oct 15, 2005 1:34 pm

wow......... :eek:
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Postby Grease » Sat Oct 15, 2005 3:11 pm

This was a post I did for the Lodeira realm role-play. It's kind of a story/history of my character.


Grease had lived in Mac Anu for as long as he could remember. The city was on the border of the land of Gondor, land of Loderia and the wastelands of Nurn. It wasn't a huge city, in one hours jog you could circle the city. Growing up Grease loved the trebuches. He would study them for hours, fascinated by the counterweight design. That was how he earned his name, Grease Lugnut. Grease never had any parents but the soldiers took him in and raised him. When he would ask them if they ever knew his parents they would always change the subject. The wall guards all knew him and played with him when he was young. As he became older his fighting skills at age 15 matched that of a veteren soldier.

His weapon of chouse was a weapon that took the blacksmith seven days to make and three to forge an edge on. The blade was 10 feet long, double edged with a four foot handle. A few dwarves lived in the city and taught him magical skills that used the earth and the rocks. Grease named the sword Ganryu. They also trained him with strength to weld the great sword. The soldier barracks trained him in the ways of fist fighting and grappling. In a year he could put every soldier on his back in three moves.

At the age of 19 he became Master Seige Engineer, with the responsiblity of training solders in the ways of siege craft and keeping the city gates and siege weapons in top condition.

One fateful day as he finished up with training the wall soldiers on the south side of the city, tradgedy struck the city. On his way home in the early morning he heard the clash of steel break out in the city. "That's odd. The barracks dosn't start training till noon." As he came around the corner of a keep, he stopped agast at the seen before him. Barbarians were pouring into the city from the north gate. "How...how could they have come in with out us seeing them." Snapping out of his daze he jumped from the 20 ft wall into a house through a window. "GREASE! What the hell are you doing?" a woman yelled at him. "Sorry Mistral, but the city is under attack from the inside." He said cooly running out the door.

A few minutes later he burst into his house, "OIL! GET UP! THERE'S A FIGHT ON!" Grease's friend stumbled into the room half asleep. "Whazzup?" Oil said drowsly. "Bararians are in the city. I don't how they got in with out anyone knowing but we are going to clean the streets." Grease said hurriedly putting on his armour. A minute later they both flew out the door heading toward the north gate. "You go on ahead," Grease told Oil "I need to go to the barracks to get Ganryu." With that they split ways never to see each other again.

Upon reaching the barracks Grease slipped on his iron gloves and went in ready to start swinging. Suprisingly the barracks was empty of frien or foe. He went to the wall and unhooked Ganryu. Running out he saw that the barbarians were marching toward the barracks. "I don't stand a chance." he murmmered. e ran to the west gate. Seeing that it was still intact he slipped out and started heading north he looked back at his city, a flame and in ruins he heared the army chanting a praise to a dark-elf lord. Hearing that Grease's anger soared, "From this day forth a promise to return and retake my city until the day I die!" With that he started traveling north into the lands of Loderia, hoping to find the help to recapture his city.

A short ways up he came upon a wounded barbarian laying on the side of the road. "help mee..." the man weezed with two arrows sticking out of his chest. "Why did you attack us, why did you destroy my city!" grease yelled at him lifting the man up by his clothes. "we had orders from the lord of the south to destroy Mac Anu. The lord paid us well to do so, heh heh heh......" with that the man died in Grease's hands. Disgusted Grease threw the corpes away and stomped off into the north.
My sword sings the sad song of the Barbarian.
"There is no fair or unfair, there is only tactics."
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Postby Tatoko » Wed Dec 14, 2005 11:10 pm

Just click the picture in my sig or go to www.tatoko.com/tatokosprofile.htm

I'm not quite finnished but it'll do for now.

And amusingly enough the picture looks ALMOST exactly like me. The only difference is I'm still working on the scarf and the shirt. I have the ears and (you can't see it) tail.
Image 'Cest moi! (It looks exactly like me, drawn by the lovely Mazu.)
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Postby Constantine » Mon Dec 26, 2005 2:08 am

Im bored, and i cant sleep. So, im doing this now, instead of saying oh ill do it later, but never doing it. The goal hes trying to accomplish, is the one i am going to try at Rag..Nothin gainst the romans, but its to get more into the sport, and be my character ^_^

Name: Drago Darkheart
Alignment: Chaotic Nuetral, Chaotic Evil
Race: Werewolf/shapeshifter
Weapons of choice: Tower shield, and his specially crafted Broadsword. If not that, then that broadsword, and a half scimitar, half-gladius. A giant hammer, also.

Story- He had a normal life, and grew up in a family of merchants. He learned to be a merchant, at the age of 8, and learned about what he was, and the life ahead. At the age of nine, a Roman dressed vessel, raided their ship, and killed everyone. Including his parents, and they thought they killed him. Floating on a part of a ruined ship, he carried the will to live to get revenge. Anger, and hatred burned in his heart, as he would never forget that face of the order barking leader. He landed on a small island, where he was taken care of until the age of sixteen. Over the years, he learned how to master changing in and out of his werewolf form, only reason is, a werewolf lived in that town as well. Infact, that was the person who helped him. The thing he loved the most, about his new found home, the lore. The stories he heard. Especially, the ones of barbaric warriors, eating their fallen enemies, to gain their power, and soul. This intrueged him...rather too much.

One day, while out on a hunt, something told him to seek further into these stories he had heard. When the rest of the group was setting up camp, he went off. Then, he changed into his werewolf form, raided the camp. He killed, and ate his party members. He felt stronger, faster, and more able to do more superhuman abilities, as well as his sense of smell. There was a price, though...the souls of his dead party members haunted him. He did take their souls, and they wouldnt be put to rest until he was dead...This temporarily drove Drago to insanity. They wouldnt go away, and always made him want to kill himself. When he returned, he made up a phony story that orcs ambushed them, and took him prisoner, until he was able to escape. But now, the more creative, evil side in him, told the elders where the camp was. They sent out another team...as well as him, since he was the only person who knew 'the way'. Again, he went with the same plan...and its not that he wanted to, but he had to. He felt so hungry, but normal food didnt satisfy. This time, he didnt return to the town...he just left.

From then, until he was about 35, he spent his time, waiting when he could get back at the Romans. He hated them, and whenever he killed one, he ate the body. To him, every dead Roman was less of a burden on the world. then one day, a woman grabbed his attention. He didnt know what it was, this odd feeling. All the other women, he didnt care about. Just another way to help the night go by. This silver haired woman, was something he couldnt let go. And over time, he, and the woman, whos name was Kaerth, got closer. He learned her peoples ways, culture, and even language. Those of the Dothraki, an assassin-type people from the Mid East. Unfortunately, he had to leave Kaerth, to complete his long life quest...which he is still currently trying to accomplish. He promised, once that was done, he would return to marry her.
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Favorite Fighting Styles: Sword/Board,Polearm,Red

Postby Constantine » Mon Dec 26, 2005 2:08 am

Im bored, and i cant sleep. So, im doing this now, instead of saying oh ill do it later, but never doing it. The goal hes trying to accomplish, is the one i am going to try at Rag..Nothin gainst the romans, but its to get more into the sport, and be my character ^_^

Name: Drago Darkheart
Alignment: Chaotic Nuetral, Chaotic Evil
Race: Werewolf/shapeshifter
Weapons of choice: Tower shield, and his specially crafted Broadsword. If not that, then that broadsword, and a half scimitar, half-gladius. A giant hammer, also.
Unit-Outsiders

Story- He had a normal life, and grew up in a family of merchants. He learned to be a merchant, at the age of 8, and learned about what he was, and the life ahead. At the age of nine, a Roman dressed vessel, raided their ship, and killed everyone. Including his parents, and they thought they killed him. Floating on a part of a ruined ship, he carried the will to live to get revenge. Anger, and hatred burned in his heart, as he would never forget that face of the order barking leader. He landed on a small island, where he was taken care of until the age of sixteen. Over the years, he learned how to master changing in and out of his werewolf form, only reason is, a werewolf lived in that town as well. Infact, that was the person who helped him. The thing he loved the most, about his new found home, the lore. The stories he heard. Especially, the ones of barbaric warriors, eating their fallen enemies, to gain their power, and soul. This intrueged him...rather too much.

One day, while out on a hunt, something told him to seek further into these stories he had heard. When the rest of the group was setting up camp, he went off. Then, he changed into his werewolf form, raided the camp. He killed, and ate his party members. He felt stronger, faster, and more able to do more superhuman abilities, as well as his sense of smell. There was a price, though...the souls of his dead party members haunted him. He did take their souls, and they wouldnt be put to rest until he was dead...This temporarily drove Drago to insanity. They wouldnt go away, and always made him want to kill himself. When he returned, he made up a phony story that orcs ambushed them, and took him prisoner, until he was able to escape. But now, the more creative, evil side in him, told the elders where the camp was. They sent out another team...as well as him, since he was the only person who knew 'the way'. Again, he went with the same plan...and its not that he wanted to, but he had to. He felt so hungry, but normal food didnt satisfy. This time, he didnt return to the town...he just left.

From then, until he was about 35, he spent his time, waiting when he could get back at the Romans. He met a group of warriors, known as the Outsiders. They helped him tame his savage lust for eating his dead enemies, and for that, he owes them his sanity. He hated them, and whenever he killed one, he ate the body. To him, every dead Roman was less of a burden on the world. then one day, a woman grabbed his attention. He didnt know what it was, this odd feeling. All the other women, he didnt care about. Just another way to help the night go by. This silver haired woman, was something he couldnt let go. And over time, he, and the woman, whos name was Kaerth, got closer. He learned her peoples ways, culture, and even language. Those of the Dothraki, an assassin-type people from the Mid East. She was even the one, who made him both the swords he wields to this day. Unfortunately, he had to leave Kaerth, to complete his long life quest...which he is still currently trying to accomplish. He promised, once that was done, he would return to marry her.
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Favorite Fighting Styles: Sword/Board,Polearm,Red

Postby Djinn aka D » Tue Dec 27, 2005 12:52 pm

Name: Djinn of Fire
Race: Human

Djinn was born to fight. His father was a captain in the mighty armies of Byzantium, his mother a loyal housewife and mother. After the unfortunate death of his father at the hands of the barbarians, Djinn set out west, abandoning his home and land for a simpler place. Upon settling in a little known area far to the west, Djinn's life was filled with simple monotony. He decided to pursue an education, and enrolled in a local academy, where he met the mighty fighter Vek who, like him, traveled from his homeland and settled here. Their lives changed forever after the feast of Eastere.

One sunny morn, a herald announced the arrival of a group of mercenaries. Intrigued, Vek went forth,his barbarian appetite for bloodnever sated in education. With him he dragged Djinn who, reluctant to fight after his fathers death, was intrigued nontheless by this group. He arrived at the open field where they were, wary of them and with a feeling that they would somehow change his life,whether for good or bad he did not know. Greeted by the leader, who called himself Orion the Hunter, Djinn was immediately drawn to the sword and shield, the same weapons his father weilded. After many hours of fighting (and a strange affliction of the head know as a "minor concussion") Orion was pleased with Djinn'smeager skills and taught him dilligently, eventually boosting his skill and confidence andmaking him a formidable soldier. Djinn still kept up with his studies, though they were not his priority. Now-a-days, the mercgroup that took in and sheltered Djinn, known to people as Andor, grew and spawned great fighters such as Swift, Rube, Hawthorne, and Vash. Vek, the "humble" barbarian currently serves as Field Commander and Djinn has risen to his Sargeant-at-Arms.
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Postby graavish » Tue Feb 28, 2006 8:17 am

Name: Graavish Doomshield
Race: Bugbear
Place of birth: unknown
Parents: unknown
History: I was born in the belly of the earth my mother was a hidewalker of ill-reputed. she was known for her tendency to kill mates after coupling, therefore later in her life she had understandable difficulty find a mate. when passing through the forest one day she took her fancy on a mountain. when she saw it's immense size and the staying power of it's peak she understood the power contain deep within it. with the mountain for a mate she birthed a child (to understand how this is possible see HORDE: BUGBEAR REPRODUCTION).I was that child. I was brought into this world much as i plan to leave it,screaming bloody and in a woman. my mother cut my cord with her teeth and that was the last involvement she had with me. I was brought up as a child away from other sentient creatures and my father the mountain while always providing for me well you know mountains aren't the most talkative. I grew quickly and strong by the age of five i could lift a gnome size boulder over my head at 10 and elf size and at 15 a man sized rock. i would raid caravan and passing armies for thing i need or wanted.One day i heard a great noise coming from the south and low an army of creature wonder in the evil and terrifing in their glory. i charged because they terrified me to anger how dare they be so impressive and wonderous and better than me.as i charged i was filled with arrows by a lumder brute and some lizards using bows (koom and the girls * and mhor' rigan)luckily my hide was tough and my mountains stength was such that i could shrug it off. i got into the thick of battle and while i was holding my own these were the first warriors i had ever seen that were my match!?! be it because of there size strength or skill i knew not, for they all possessed these in avaring degrees and made up for the lack of one with a massive amount of another. for hours we faought before i was felled by the strongest blow i had ever known. as i passed out i was amazed i saw a face while older and war scared was much like the face that i sawa every mornning in my fathers reflecting pool. the came blackness. As i awoke i saw a twitching green....thing in a hat talking with the creature that looked like me and scream about how they should gut me and leave. the one-who-was-like-me said something of bugbears and Gojun-Ashi and responsiblities laid on him by someone known as Marjak. finally the green thing called a goblin by the other sigh in exasperation and lazily tried to stab the bugbearwhich the bugbear then disarmed.i was later informed that the goblin was Captian Izareth Voldranai ak ni Rered Naw High General of Horde and the one who was like me was nanga direspear, the leader of the headhunters. he later told me the I was gojun-ashi or lowest warrior and i was an orphan(?!?) and it was his job as the first bugbear i had met to instruct me in the ways of the great marjak and explained that my compulsion to cover my right arm was given by marjak. and thus i was inducted into the dead river horde a part of the horde of many monsters. i was a true bugbear at last.
Loyal to Izareth
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HoRdE
so my microwave dinged! and before i could stop myself i asked it what level?
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Postby Zanark Morningstar » Tue Mar 07, 2006 12:49 pm

Zanark is a half breed of a god = angel. Unaware of his true mission of why he was born he seaks out other like him only to find he is the only one of his kind. Later his mother a god splits her sword in two one good one evil. Abraxas = evil Karadeak= good. She then tells him that he has been orderd to destroy mankind. So the gods can start life anew. Still very young he comes ton find his real father a leader of the ninja tribe. After years of traning with the ninja's and with his new sword Abraxas he becomes top in his class. Soon his father decides that his sword is too evil and is controlling him and sends the entire clan to kill him. Only one managed to get even close to him Kotojinn which in the end finally killed him. Years later he is reserected by his mother using a stone capable of controling wind, he soon finds that his beloved sword has been stolen and seeks it out. That is when he hears about his sister Sasha who is also a angel and the legend of the stone child the only one who can stop him.
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Postby Whitey » Thu Mar 09, 2006 9:25 am

Whitey is a human who was born in avalon, he is a fighter who mission in life is to kill anyone who is the halfbreed of a god=angel, especially those who have an evil sword named abraxas=evil
"whitey if you flame anyone else, you are getting banned"~winfang
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Postby graavish » Thu Mar 09, 2006 10:14 am

dude that is the most well thought out and clever back story. good job whitey it's very rare that someone comes up with a story that is linked in reality. i mean come on you know you fight in avalon and all that but reall no one would ever say that their mother was an angel=god and that their sword's name is Abraxus=evil. no one would want to get ripped on that one that badly
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so my microwave dinged! and before i could stop myself i asked it what level?
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Postby Elebrim » Thu Mar 09, 2006 11:37 am

I don't know why we got going on the whole D&D-structure profile, but it works for me.

Name: Elebrim Mistblood
Race: High-Elf (Eldar)
Age: 74

Elebrim was found abandoned in an area of woods north of the Shire. Though there were the remains of a fight in the woods nearby, the human family who took him in did not know where he came from or how he was left there. They took him in, nevertheless, knowing his name only from the few items they could salvage from nearby. Elebrim was raised as a man, striving to get along and function as the other men did. Despite his and his parent?s best efforts, the other children in the town ostracized him for his obvious physical differences, mainly his ears and his long, straight hair. Elebrim spent many of his days in solitude, reading or observing the world around him, still not understanding why he was ?different.?

On a child?s eighteenth birthday, the town honored an ancient tradition that marked the child?s passage to manhood. The elders would discuss the youth?s character, and would choose a task or challenge that they felt appropriate to making that girl or boy a woman or a man, respectively. When the days of Elebrim?s eighteenth birthday were fast approaching, the elders of the village met as they did for all others. The deliberations lasted several days, the elders not leaving the house until the night of Elebrim?s birthday. The patriarch, wearied and hungry, announced that they could not pass Elebrim into manhood unless he was made into a man. When that announcement was made, a great cry went up to do just that. Elebrim?s peers quickly subdued him, binding his wrists and feet and dragging him into a small shed. There, they used a pair of wool shears to brutally cut off his hair by torchlight, making sure that every lost strand was passed onto a pile in front of Elebrim?s now fearful eyes. By the time his hair had been hacked and mangled beyond recognition, the men locked Elebrim into the shed and left to heat the knife they planned to use on his ears. Elebrim panicked, looking to discover a means of escape. Frantically searching the room, he looked into the corner and noticed that the other men had dropped a smaller dagger in the corner. Elebrim hastily cut himself free and laid back down in wait. When the men returned several hours later, the large carving knife burning a brilliant orange against their stained teeth and lifeless eyes, Elebrim took his chance. Using the knowledge he had gained from living with them all of his life, Elebrim took advantage of the drunkenness of each of the men, mindlessly maiming and slaughtering them all in his frantic plot for escape. At the last, Elebrim took the flaming orange dagger and stabbed it into the wall, burning some of the weaker planks and setting the small shed on fire. Battered and beaten, he stumbled into the night, with nothing but clothes on his back, the knife in his pocket, and blood on his hands.

Elebrim spent the next half century wandering. He took what he needed and by whatever means he could. He cared little for men, and even less for what they thought of him. He was truly, in every sense of the word, an outcast. There was no hope, no light left in him.

On Elebrim?s 70th birthday, he was still wandering. He had run out of supplies, and was considering which town to steal from next when he heard the piercing cry of a trumpet break the silence of the mountainside. A blinding light rose up in front of him, and Elebrim fell back to the ground. Out of the brilliance emerged Orome, Valar of the hunt and of the wilderness. Orome proceeded to verbally berate Elebrim of his offenses against the Eldar, the Valar, and against the will of Eru Illuvatar (God). He then informed Elebrim that he had betrayed his kind. He was no longer able to return to the Undying Lands. Very shaken, Elebrim quietly explained to Orome about his childhood, and that he didn?t understand anything of what he had been talking about.

At this, Orome smiled. He had already known that Elebrim had no idea of Elves or of the Undying Lands or even how to speak his own tongue. He had needed to be sure that Elebrim had not been completely lost to the darkness he had been forced through, and his innocent reply revealed that there was light left within his torment. Comfortingly, Orome explained to Elebrim that he was indeed an Eldar, one of the Firstborn of Middle-Earth. He explained to Elebrim all about the Elves journey across the sea, the Kinslaying, the great wars with Morgoth and Saruon, and Manwe?s invitation to return to Valinor. This fourth age, he said, had left almost no light from Eru or from Valinor in the land, and the Valar needed to act as a pure servant in this changing world. Elebrim had been chosen as that servant. So long as Elebrim served the will of Eru Illuvatar and the light, he would be restored in the sight of his kin and be given a chance to return to the Undying Lands when his task was at an end. Orome promised Elebrim that he would not be sent into this task alone, but he would soon be given aid and taught many important skills he would need to be of service to this world. In that moment, Elebrim took the surname Mistblood, for he knew that the life in his veins was clouded by his past.

After Orome had ridden off in another blaze of glory, Elebrim realized that they had spoken all through the night and into the morning of the next day. Staring up at the freshly risen sun, he began walking down the cliffs of the tall and lonely mountain, determined to start anew and breathe his first breaths of a fresh life and identity. He soon came to be in the lands of Moria, and began his new life and new identity when he found a small group of Dwarves, Men, and a few Elves trying to rebuild the lost kingdom of Khazad-D?m and reclaim it from the Orcs and surviving Uruk-Hai who had claimed it. While he remained here, Elebrim began to learn from those around him, tapping back into his skills at observing that he had learned so many years ago. He learned everything that he could in weapons, strategy, smithing, and even some healing. Eventually, he became a member of a noble and ancient order of Templar, who valued honor and kindness above all else. Elebrim has continued on until this day, battling on against orcs, demons, and all others from the darkness, knowing that only by increasing his skill, honor, and knowledge of his kin will he be truly able to complete his appointed task and be filled with the light of his kin.
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Postby Zanark Morningstar » Thu Mar 09, 2006 11:52 am

graavish wrote:dude that is the most well thought out and clever back story. good job whitey it's very rare that someone comes up with a story that is linked in reality. i mean come on you know you fight in avalon and all that but reall no one would ever say that their mother was an angel=god and that their sword's name is Abraxus=evil. no one would want to get ripped on that one that badly


His mother was not a angel she was a god and his father was human. And if your going to quote my sword I only put down Abraxas=evil to tell you that it was the evil one.
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Postby Whitey » Thu Mar 09, 2006 11:53 am

no she was an god=angel whatever that is suppose to mean, and zanark, have you ever heard of an appostive.like graavish, the bugbear,will kill you, "the bug bear" would be an appositive
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Postby graavish » Thu Mar 09, 2006 12:20 pm

zanark you are the most entertaining gentleman i've met in a long time.
thank you.

by the way, where do you get those wonderful drugs your on?
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Postby Whitey » Thu Mar 09, 2006 12:21 pm

my guess, he drinks green ooze he find in the sewars of ney york, probably thinks it will work for him like it did for the turtles and the rat
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Postby Zanark Morningstar » Thu Mar 09, 2006 12:22 pm

OMG why are there people like you in this world
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Postby Whitey » Thu Mar 09, 2006 12:23 pm

to make stupid people like you ask dumb questions like that
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Postby Zanark Morningstar » Fri Mar 10, 2006 2:01 pm

GOOSE FRABA
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Postby Elebrim » Thu Mar 16, 2006 11:07 pm

Come on, guys, there are some of us who like to actually read the stories and not end up getting wrapped up in the flaming and potential crud that people spew out.

Behold, the power of PM's. Use them wisely. :roll:

Back on topic, anyone? A few of these last stories were really cool.
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Postby Sleeper » Sat Mar 18, 2006 11:41 pm

Its true name shall remain unknown. It comes from the new world, its body garnered of pure darkness, it wandered the lands for eons as a phantom. But one day, as it floated in the midst of a battle, it gazed upon the most powerful warrior it had every witnessed, and it decided it wanted to be like him, to fight like him, to kill like him. The warrior's name was Nightmare, General of a vast legion of lizardmen and clay golems, his weapon SoulEdge. It has pulled a physical body together from energies found all around and now it strives to imitate Nightmare, though it is defeated many times, it can never be truely vanquished and it rises again and again, each time it is defeated, it learns more and more, none shall stop Sleeper, Phantom of the Red Sword!
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Postby Maciah » Sun Mar 19, 2006 8:34 am

updated a former post on my character up above. Already had Makito. Now I have Maciah also.
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Postby Zanark Morningstar » Fri Mar 31, 2006 12:38 pm

lol
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