I just realized that there is likely going to be some conflict between Talia's character and mine. After all, she must hate dragons and Atrial happens to have one with her at all times...
I just realized that there is likely going to be some conflict between Talia's character and mine. After all, she must hate dragons and Atrial happens to have one with her at all times...
Siggy and Avi set made by me.
Spoiler: If you are sad look here!
Drakin Uprising is looking for awesome peeps to join.
True. Still though, once she pieces together that Ith is a dragon there may be problems.
Siggy and Avi set made by me.
Spoiler: If you are sad look here!
Drakin Uprising is looking for awesome peeps to join.
How large is Ith?
Read his description it tells you.
Siggy and Avi set made by me.
Spoiler: If you are sad look here!
Drakin Uprising is looking for awesome peeps to join.
Is anybody else going to post or should I. I have the next plot move planned I was just trying to give everyone a chance to have their characters get friendly with one another. If everyone feels they have done this enough then I can go ahead and move on.
Siggy and Avi set made by me.
Spoiler: If you are sad look here!
Drakin Uprising is looking for awesome peeps to join.
posting now... eta of <30m
If the gold does not stay in this world,
then I will chase it till I find my home
Name: Mixed-Kin of Kraso'gath, N'raso'gath [kay-raysoh-gahth / en-raysoh-gahth]
Age (at least 17): 50 Years of Age
Gender: Male-aroo
Race: Minotaur
Appearance (pics of an kind are accepted):
N'raso'gath, being a cursed hybrid of the proud Minotaur race and the base animals known as the 'Lions' has unfortunately suffered a growth stunt, being that he's shorter than a usual son of a chieftain would be, not even reaching seven feet at his measly 6'11". However, his short stature is made up for more than double by his wideness. While his height has suffered a blight thanks to the curse, his muscularity has suffered no such recession: as a matter of fact, in an odd, yet pleasant way, his body has grown much more muscular than normal for his species, both of the muscles that move his body, and of the muscles that keep him alive. (In this case, things like the Heart, Tongue, and Diaphragm). The thick fur you see helps to not only insulate him, but keep blades from slashing his skin to shreds thanks to its thickness.
His arms are long and powerful, so much so that, if need be, the Minoton can fight on all fours if need be, with his fangs and horns forming a formidable defense. Though his legs may look thin in comparison to the rest of his body, they are quite stocky and powerful, and one kick from them can dislocate a man's jaw, or even cave in his chest. And of course, those five inch claws aren't for show. The armor you see on his body are the ceremonial war-rags of his people, worn both as as sign of peace between allies, and as a sign of acknowledgement of the seriousness of the situation. His spear/walking cane, Gung'nir, is a stolen dwarven relic of mixed gold and iron, giving it a shade similar to brass, while giving it the strength of your average spear. Its elegant design is clearly not Minotauran in design, what with its head being bladed on both sides, while also having a hardened tip for piercing: it's clear that it's too sophisticated for Minotaur society. It has been lengthened with the black rod you see in the middle to fit the Minotaur race's immense size, and the bottom has been altered to help the hooved race survive walks on paved or waxed floors.
Personality: As you'd expect of a "King"'s son, N'raso'gath (Anglicized Narasogath) is a crudely arrogant fool with a belief that he is completely invincible. Claiming that all he needs in life is his boundless strength and his charm, he believes he's the pinnacle of all life. Who cares that he's a dirty mud-blood beast, whose already dirty blood has been sullied by the cursed hands of magic, and whose life has been spent standing beneath his fellow Minose, constantly overshadowed by their height, by their rippling muscles, and by their own boundless troughs of confidence.
And who cares about the fact that, of all the races, theirs is considered the stupidest? That, no matter how much he studied human, elven, and even orcish scripture, that he still can't write a word of it, and the only language of the 4 main races he can speak is General Common? Who cares that no matter how hard he may put forth the effort to better his inflated ego, his terrible public image, and his very attitude, that one outburst later he'll end up right back where he was? Who cares, right? He doesn't! He's the all powerful, all handsome N'raso'gath! Of course he's not in denial: what are you, mentally deficient?!
There's no way that he can't see his worth, or that he's confused as to his place in this world, or that he's ashamed of his own stupidity, now that he's learned of it! There is no way, none!, that this is the case!
Bio:
SIX DECADES PRIOR
A middleaged Minotaur with proud, curled, ebony horns stands with his chest out and his face flushed with great pride and the drink of hazing minds. On his arm, a beautiful Minotaur woman: his wife. And before him, a great table, full of various meats and grasses, and coloured berries to give the whole selection a gallant feel. The cacophony of roars, laughter, and oddly enough, moos, made for a pleasant kind of discourse that the newly chosen chieftain-- Kraso'gath-- had loved since he was a boy. However, even as he smiled, a pained look echoed in the shadows at the back of his mind. Looking at his wife, however, he felt a sudden urge-- one he'd felt since the day he'd first locked his own deep brown eyes with her amber ones. Grinning devilishly, he swept her up, and they disappeared-- off to make their marriage that day official.
Several months passed, and yet no child could be seen forming within the chieftain's wife's belly, much to his, his wife's, and the rest of the tribe's concern. This stayed on the Kraso'gath's mind for an eternity, and before he knew it, nigh on a decade had passed. After a night of rigorous love-making, fruitless but passion driven, a knock was heard at their bedroom door. Concerned and confused, Kraso'gath (Anglicized Karasogath) answered the door, only to be horrified to see a human witch standing before him. Though he didn't know for sure at the time, it was the only explanation at the time for why she could've made her way into their village.
After a short argument, the Witch admitted to having come to help him and his wife produce a child, much to both of their surprise. Though she was a Witch, the Witch was not wicked: she had no ill intent for the Minotaur couple. She, as a matter of fact, considered herself a Witch of Fertility, and it was her duty to help all whom she came across to bear children, and as such, bestowed upon Karasogath an enchantment of fertility. However, her enchantment came with a warning: all children of magic have a very real chance of being... off. Not just physically, but mentally as well. Of course, they heeded her warning, but with no preventative measures existing for such an outcome, there was nothing they could do but hope and pray that such an incident did not happen, and that very night, Narasogath was conceived.
MODERN DAY
Fifty years later, and the very odd lion-like Narasogath stands off against his rival since birth: N'el'roq (Anglicized Nelroque). They clash horns, locking and glaring into one another's fierce eyes, their hands grappling, and their legs shoving against one another. Though Nelroque is taller and faster, in a contest of brute strength such as this, he stands no chance. Roaring triumphantly, Narasogath wrenches the bull-man into the air, before slamming him back-first into the hard dirt below, a satisfying blast of air escaping the now-unconscious Nelroque.
Heartily, Narasogath accepts his badges of office: a sparse gold and leather kilt and loincloth, along with the ceremonial shoulder pad. Having trained with it for years, his final badge of office: Gung'nir, is bequeathed upon him. However, he spends but a moment out with the rest of his kind, celebrating, before he is called within his home. A grim look is upon his now century-and-a-half year old father, whose once-proud head is bald, and what little remains of the hair on his body is grey and brittle. Nodding for his son to sit down, he recites to him a message he'd heard since birth, practically, about it being the village chieftain's duty to protect their village and their people with their lives: such a thing being worthless to them in times of danger. However, the edge on his father's voice caught Narasogath's attention, and for the first time in his life, he interrupted the old bull, questioning why he sounded so hesitant.
He was quiet for a moment, before telling Narasogath a startling revelation. That theirs was one of only three known civilized Minotaur bastions: almost all of their kind were nomadic or loners for one reason or another, and it was rare to find more than one Minotaur able and willing to help another. As such, theirs (the largest village) had a duty to send a representative south to FernsWorth, and the only Minotaur befitting such an honor as to be acknowledge by the royalty of the Empire would be the chieftain of their small village. (Aptly named 'Crete'.)
It took no fewer than a couple moments for Narasogath to agree to leave. He'd love to stay and finally earn the respect of his fellow Minoses, but he didn't spend all these years proclaiming to be the strongest, the most fit for chieftain to run away from his responsibility. Grimacing, Kraso'gath waved his son off. N'raso'gath stood immediately, and put his hand to his heart in salute of his father, before finally leaving. He left without a word to another one of his Minoses, as to keep them from worrying. Even if he had no friends in this village, it wouldn't due to worry the younger ones. So, the Minotaur Chieftain of Crete, Mixed-Kin of Kraso'gath, N'raso'gath, left for FernsWorth, not knowing what awaited him there, but anticipation and duty driving him.
Skils:
The Strength of a Bull: As you can imagine, Minotaurs are one of the most physically capable of the species, rivaled only by the likes of Drakin and Orcs. As such, though it would be a bit of a stretch, Narasogath could very much be able to lift a horse without harming himself. He could even throw it, though it would not go very far. Along with this strength, however, comes "The Stubbornness of a Bull".
The Heart of a Lion: Though he may have some issues at his core, the heart of lion lives in this bull's chest, and with it come bottomless courage, though some may mistake it for foolhardiness. He fears nothing in this physical world, and all who dare to face down the Mixed-Kin will fall before his might! Along with this courage, however, comes "The Pride of a Lion".
The Hide of a Boar: With fur as thick as his, and skin as thick as his, it's no wonder that Narasogath is a walking tank, able to take most hits other races could not. Though he's no less likely to die from being shot through the head by an arrow, or to be killed by a slip of poison in his drink, he's one of the most likely to survive a direct strike to his abdomen with a spear, even if it did stick him. And, out of all, he's the most likely to be able to block a sword blow with his arm and not lose the appendage. Along with this toughness, however, comes "The Dullness of a Boar".
Ageless Polemanship: Years of training with his spear, Gung'nir, has improved this Minotaur's fighting capabilities greatly: so much so that he considers himself the greatest, and none-- not even his own father-- have bested him yet. Even if he has been confined to his village all his life. (Ignoring hunting trips and the like.)
Base Senses: Due to being one of the few races that are genuinely close to being animals, Minotaurs have the ability to, like other animals, sense various things-- from oncoming disasters to diseases-- though Narasogath's own ability to do so is greatly diminished, due to his species evolution. While he gets some kind of premonition that a storm may be coming, or that one may be deathly ill, he does not know for certain, and cannot know for certain.
Weapons: His entire body is his weapon, but more specifically, you should watch out for his horns, his fangs, his claws, his hooves, and his fists. Along with this, he has his blades spear, Gung'nir.
Magical skill: N/A (You purplecow.)
Other: Lionheart - Main/Overworld Music
Minotion Intent - Drastic Situation Music
Last edited by snekman; 08-09-2016 at 08:35 PM.
This place is feeling obscenely dead, and I haven't even been here for more than a day or so.
That's not good.
The GM's been kinda busy with Life as of late. Other than that I honestly can't say your wrong about the silence. The OOC and IC have been rather quiet as well.
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