Avatar of Nron
  • Last Seen: 9 yrs ago
  • Old Guild Username: Nron
  • Joined: 10 yrs ago
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    1. Nron 10 yrs ago

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Partisan said
@Nron, he's a cool guy but he seems to be a master at doing everything. Consider cutting back the skills he has. The idea of some warrior prancing about, jumping left and right cutting people down doesn't seem like something I'd envision in the setting. There's a reason lightly armored warriors were usually the first ones to die in a real battle, right?


I'd argue the opposite about the lightly armored bit given historical happenings but I have edited the sheet accordingly. Redacting the dancing bit into simply being a bit more agile than most while wearing armour and removed smithing and tunneling. Also reduced his leadership skills to simply having commanded others to do the main commanding. Armour has been plated up a bit but retains its distinct lack of plate along the joints to retain some improved movement and flexibility.
Partisan said
@Nron, he's a cool guy but he seems to be a master at doing everything. Consider cutting back the skills he has. The idea of some warrior prancing about, jumping left and right cutting people down doesn't seem like something I'd envision in the setting. There's a reason lightly armored warriors were usually the first ones to die in a real battle, right?


I'd argue the opposite about the lightly armored bit given historical happenings but I have edited the sheet accordingly. Redacting the dancing bit into simply being a bit more agile than most while wearing armour and removed smithing and.tunneling. Also reduced his leadership skills to simply having commanded others to do the main commanding. Armour has been plated up a bit but retains its distinct lack of plate along the joints to retain some improved movement and flexibility.
Sikarthis

"Too hot..."


Full name: Sikarthis Thrachaiss vas Emperat
Titles: Northman, "The Ice Prince"
Rank: Boar
Age: Twenty Six Winters
Gender: Male
Appearance:


Personality: Cold as the land he hails from, Sikarthis is a reserved individual who speaks little even with those he considers companions. To Sikarthis conversation is something that happens to other people, though others often mistake this for a willingness to listen to whatever they have on their minds. He is slow to anger and seemingly devoid of any of the vices that ail his fellow sellswords, a fact that has earned him both respect and disdain (oftentimes both from the same people). Sikarthis speaks little of his past or his home except on rare occasions when queer fancies strike him. While Sikarthis' loyalty can be questioned few can say the same of his combat prowess and it is a rare thing indeed for anyone to find him away from the training yard or his animal pens.

History: Of all those in service to the deposed Queen, Sikarthis is quite possibly the only one who might be able to sympathize with her plight on a personal level. Years before Sikarthis found his way to the Iron Company he resided far in the north, thousands of leagues from Arlon in the Ustynia Ice Plains. A vast, gelid land of black-blue mountains of ice and windswept plains of snow, Ustynia was a hostile place that would kill the unprepared as easily as the most experienced of adventurers. Home to immense wooly beasts, wild cats the size of horses, and all manner of dark terrors beneath the iceflows, it was little wonder that few civilizations had ever bothered to settle there. One however did, and from that small kingdom Sikarthis was born.

Son to the King Atop The 'Berg, Sikarthis was raised from childhood to assume the Throne upon his coming of age, when he would challenge the King to single combat. At the age of six he was assisting the Huntmasters tend to the tamed Snowcats, and repairing their sleds between hunts.Thirteen Winters saw Sikarthis begin his martial training, learning and mastering the javelin first and quickly following suit with the longsword and shield. A rare opportunity even allowed him to study with the reclusive monk sects atop the Ighai mountain, a monolith of ice and rock rising four miles above the barren plains surrounding it. Up in that misty, mysterious place Sikarthis honed his skills further, learning to wear his armour like a second skin, the added weight becoming familiar and comforting. Sikarthis did not return from Ighai until his Twentieth Winter, the time set before him by the King atop the 'Berg for their battle.

Sikarthis had no sooner arrived at what was to be the site of their melee before he was set upon by an ambush, sent by the King his own self. In his absence the King had grown frail and frightened, unwilling to allow himself to be beaten by his son that the stronger may rule as tradition had held for centuries. Escaping with his life and this information, Sikarthis set about raising the people against the King, an easy task once they learned of the betrayal. For two Winters a small civil war raged in that far off frozen edge of the world, the only witnesses to feats of valor and bloodshed the wild beasts that feasted upon the dead once the battles were done. In the end Sikarthis was able to lead his rebellion to the foot of his fathers last bastion, the 'Berg itself.

An immense fortress hewn of the ice atop a mobile iceberg, the 'Berg had stood for centuries as a symbol of power and stability in Ustynia. None had ever breached its walls nor claimed victory over a siege against it, ability to move unbidden a deterrent against any kind of long term encampment. Seers had foreseen that it would continue to stay afloat for centuries more, long after the people of the world had drifted away into the frozen wastes. Unfortunately the Seers were wrong.

Unknown to Sikarthis, the King had enlisted the aid of the Orelords, master tunnelers and miners, to booby trap the 'Berg, digging long tunnels throughout it's interior so that the King might cleave off entire sections and drown the approaching army. During this operation however something went wrong, and on the morning of the final assault against the 'Berg, Sikarthis awoke to bear witness to the collapse of the only true symbol of rulership Ustynia had ever known. The 'Berg gone, Sikarthis was stripped of all status and whatever politcal power he may have held, his entire war fought for nothing in the end. With no choice before him Sikarthis left his ancestral homeland, heading south with nothing but his favored Snowcats and a sled full of his ancestors belongings. Selling his services as a warrior, it wasn't long before he joined up with the Iron Company. At the time of these current events Sikarthis has served with the Company for Two Winters.

Skills: A master of the Longsword and Shield along with the Javelin, a favored weapon of his homeland, Sikarthis is also a skilled beast tamer, catching and training a variety of animals over the course of his service with the Company. His training atop Ighai has left more nimble than most while encased in armour, though he is by no means a lightning bolt on the field of battle. Hailing from a land of ice and snow Sikarthis is also more than able to cope with winters and is almost always the primary hunter for the Company during such times. Along with these skills Sikarthis carries with him what little leadership abilities he employed during his own civil war, small though they were given the fact that much of his forces were comprised of smaller tribes led by their own Icelords. These days he refuses to make use of these skills however, the memory of what occurred the last time he did forever fresh in his mind.

Dreams and Fears: Any dreams Sikarthis may have had died the day the 'Berg fell into the frigid seas of the North. If he has reasons for staying on with the Company and fighting for the Queen then they are unknown to his companions and quite possibly even to himself.

Favored equipment: Ancestral Longsword forged in the way of the Orelords of Ustynia, tested and proven by slicing clean through a block of ice.
A lightweight shield of reinforced oak.
Ancestral armour forged centuries before and reforged countless times since. Primarily made up of scale and chain, Sikarthis has removed much of the plate from the joints, replacing them with more flexible protective pieces to allow for reduced weight and greater range of movement. The remaining pieces of plate protect the chest, thighs, arms and legs. Along with his armour, Sikarthis had a full face helm in the Ustynian design of a death mask fashioned, a crown of the same design crafted onto it as a self mocking reminder to Sikarthis of what he has lost.
Javelins forged by Sikarthis himself in the Ustynia style. These barbed missiles are designed to stick into their targets and cause maximum damage should anyone try to remove them.

Extra: Along with his equipment Sikarthis maintains a number of pens for housing various animals. Two of these pens however are always home to his own personal beasts, Ustynian Snowcats of considerable size. Absolutely loyal to Sikarthis they are his shadow on the battlefield and his willing pillows during the cold nights.
Been awhile since I saw an RP that caught my interest like this. Count me as interested.
As the mechanized abomination slashed down at him Theow threw himself forward and into a roll, managing to narrowly avoid both of the blades but losing most of his momentum with his dodge. Undeterred by this and realizing his advantage at being under the creature, Theow sprang out of his roll the moment his feet were on the ground, aiming his twin blades for the beasts underbelly in a double thrust. As quick as Theow was though the quadrupedal monster was just as quick, scuttling backwards and out of the range of his strike before it could hit home. Not one to let his opponent regain its composure, Theow pressed the attack by charging forward, blades slashing the air in front of him to keep the beast on the defensive. Spying an opening, Theow jumped back from a retaliatory slash from one of the creature's blades, feinting being off balance as the creature rushed forward to finish him off.

As the beast came forward again, blades swinging down from both sides in a clear attempt to cut him in half at the waist, Theow buckled his knees and dropped under the attack. Off balance and unable to withdraw it's arms, the creature could only roar in pain as Theow rose from under it's blades and cleaved through both of it's arms at the elbow with his own scissor like attack. Even as the beast scuttled backwards to put distance between them Theow was on the move, putting away his blades and grabbing the severed 'hands' and hurling them at the retreating monster like javelins. Knocked over by the impact of the makeshift projectiles the creature could do little besides flail it's legs futily as Theow strode forward and caved it's head in with the heel of his foot. Content with his work and pleased with himself, Theow turned his focus to clearing out the rest of the creatures.
I'm down for skype.
Still here. Been away all day so havent had a chance to check the thread till now.
And post is up. Not totally satisfied by the length but the wrist cries out in anguish so it'll do for now.
Theow was the first to take his leave from the city hall, jumping into action before the first cries of the assaulting monsters had faded and the mayor had urged the champions to battle. If there was one thing Theow could still find pleasure in after all it was the exhilaration that came with battle and he wasn't about to let that exhilaration pass him by. His mailed feet threw up rainwater as he ran through the increasingly soaked streets, the clatter he created nearly drowned out by the continued cries of the ever encroaching undead mass. It didn't take much time for him to arrive at the town gate, spying his fellow companion and a woman armed with a blade most would consider out of place on her person. Theow suspected this was the Mother Fran that the mayor had spoken of earlier. He recalled possibly having met her at one point in the past but quickly pushed that line of thought out of his head. He had combat to focus on after all.

There were certainly a large number of monstrous constructs approaching the city, though the majority of them bothered Theow little despite their gruesome appearances and equally gruesome weapons. His focus flew immediately to the largest of their number, the quadrupedal monstrosity that was making much of the noise, and he adjusted his course to bring him on a head on collision course with the beast. He passed the two defenders at the gate in a blur, twin great swords already unsheathed, and quickened his pace into a full sprint as two of the lesser abominations shambled their way into his path, no doubt meaning to cut him off from his intended target. This was a mistake on their part as it turned out.

Digging the heel of his left foot into the ground before him, Theow turned his sprint into a pivot, using the momentum to bring the full force of both great swords across from his right in a horizontal slash a few feet in front of the two monsters. The first abomination lost its left arm at the elbow and it's head followed suit as the highest of Theow's strikes cleaved through it's neck, silencing it's groans and cries. Carried on by the force of the strike and Theow's own momentum the newly re-dead corpse barreled into the second creature, knocking it clean off it's feet and driving it to the ground where the body of it's fallen comrade pinned it to the ground for the time being. Any immediate obstacles cleared from his path, Theow completed his pivot and continued on his course for the four legged construct, flicking his great swords once as he ran to clean them of blood and other foul substances.

It vaguely occurred to him that he should probably wait for his fellow companions but at that point he was already preparing to cleave the creature's legs out from under it so he filed it under a list of things to think about after he won the day.
Ill get to work on a post
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