Afro Samurai

Erelith Roleplay (Look at First Post OOC)

The crack of the Balista shot caused Rögdûl to raise an arm up to his face; he had expected as such, and soon his arm lazed back to his side. He figured shouting would only be seen as an act of aggression--and it wasn't like they could hear him over the blare of the alarum bells clanging in unison. Rögdûl rubbed his temples; it was going to be a long day.

"We should have sent the crows first; you know they don't like our kind around here!" Nerakghu shouted as best he could above the screaming chime of the warbells.

A grunt, a sigh. "Did you bring the torches?"

"No."

"Bubhosh!

Since it takes a moment to reload a ballista, Rögdûl moved past the lodged ballista arrow and toward the fortress gates, and that is when Nerhrakgu spoke up again,

"The arrow."
"What?"
"Send your request through the arrow."
"They'll think we want a fight!"
"You do not have another option. In a few seconds, there will be more than some incompetent artillery men descending upon us. Send the arrow."
"Fine! If this doesn't work, you owe me Dushut."

Rögdûl plucked the ballista arrow out of the desert sand. Nehrakghu stripped the pouch from his robes; he kept various diplomacy tools in those wizardly looking robes: pens, parchment, paper, ink. He removed the pen and paper from his robings and wrote: peace. He wrapped the small strip of paper around the ballista arrow. Rögdûl grabbed the ballista arrow around its midsection and drew his arm back to toss the ballista arrow as one would a spear--he launched in an arc; its parabola steep enough to ensure that it went up, up, up. . .

Erelith Roleplay (Look at First Post OOC)

(Rögdûl the Black, Mid-Day, Fortress of Gloria on the Outskirts of Praelium)

Both warhorses stopped; the thick, black Orc armor hugged the Chief's otherworldly muscular body tight. On his back was Shakatrog, the tribal warsword. From head-to-toe, Rögdûl resembled a massive Roman centurion, though his armor left few soft spots and was thick enough that any sword which attempted to get past its defenses would be rebuffed, miserably. In the black armor, the Chief looked as though he stood seven feet instead of the mere 6'9 he actually was.
Next to him was Nehrakghu, clad in little else but some brown robes and a quirky pointed hat that made him look like Gandalf. Both men departed their warhoses, who were also clad in heavy black orcish armor, though the horses themselves looked abnormal--they were twice the size of normal horses and didn't seem to be slowed down by all the armor they wore. Everything about the orcs and the horses was different.
Rögdûl made his approach to the edge of the fortress, where he waited and expected to be met by some liason--or a hail of arrows, whichever came first.

Erelith Roleplay (Look at First Post OOC)

Nehrakghu

(SIDE)

Strengths
Loyalty
Wisdom
Strategist
Dexterity
Persuasive

Age: 55.
Sex: Male

Build: Still somewhat muscular from his years of training as a soldier, but otherwise age and time have thinned his once warrior-like physique.

Biography

Sometimes referred to as The Elder, Nehrakghu served as one of the Crazed's best footmen and generals during the heyday of the Red Claw and was one of the few original Red Claw members to escape the slaughter. He, along with Urim the White, were entrusted with caring for the heir until he came of age, and when he did, they were charged with acting as his primary council and trustees. Nehrakghu is the eldest of the remaining original Red Claw members and as such, holds a level of authority and respect that only Rögdûl himself surpasses.

Personality

While Rögdûl may become aggressive, Nehrakghu is calm. He weighs every possible option before he speaks, and is adept at reading the indirect (body language, nervous ticks) and direct (verbal inflection, tone, pattern) language of any individual he encounters in order to gauge how to approach a conversation. He does not speak with the quick vitality that younger Orcs possess and instead favors truncated speech with seemingly random pauses between endpoints. When he does speak, each word is carefully chosen, and such precision can be felt by anyone who hears him talk. His days of fighting are behind him, and so he typically does not accompany the band on raids or pillages--he watches over the women and children; he is always by the Chief's side during negotiations.

Erelith Roleplay (Look at First Post OOC)

Rögdûl the Black (Main), Outskirts of the Northern Hills near Gloria, Prealium

Fire swells into the chilling air, the flame provides sparse light for the entire encampment. At the crown of the fortess stands Rögdûl who peers into the vast black of the Northern plain; a disparaged place in the daylight--an abandoned catacomb in the night. Behind him are the soft clanks of wooden sticks from orc children feigning battle with one another,

"Undur kurv!" shouted the chubbier of the kids.

"Watch your mouth."

After rubbing his head, the chubby orc child (dubbed "the Fat" by the older orc juveniles) waddled off.

Rögdûl returns to watching over the Northern Hills, his mind rife with the rumors carried to and fro from the other bandit tribes who had heard of the turmoil happening just over hills where the savage lands end: Praelium had been bested by some random group of starkok. Typically, a bandit raid on Praelium meant nothing for the tribes surrounding its Northern border than that Praelium would bolster Gloria's fortress and make it even harder for the barbarians to poach. . . but this was different. If Praelium had lost to unorganized, distasteful brutes, it is a fright to imagine what may happen if they were to face an enemy who was organized.

Rögdûl shuttered at the thought. If Praelium fell, it meant that whomever it fell to had access to some of the finest weapons in the land--and that meant death for the Red Claw. That couldn't happen, not on his watch. Beside him whisked his tribal flag--his history, his father's legacy, and he'd be damned if some starkok took that away from him. Tomorrow, he and Nehrakghu rode to to Praelium.

Hunters of Remnant: Bleeding Hearts

Monk Winter

Sex: Male
Age: 22
Kingdom: Vacuo

Appearance

Personality
Monk is a scholar, but by no means is he an introvert; he enjoys nature, and interpersonal interaction with other beings (whether celestial or mortal is of no concern to him). He spends his time studying copious amounts of sloppily written notes and gorging himself on deadly quantities of ice cream. Aside from incessant studying, Monk spends what is left of an average day belting charged, soulful melodies rife with lyrics pertaining to the supernatural, and often in praise of it. It's notes are hard and long, meant to be appreciated for their power and not always their technical prowess. Overall he is a good-natured person and a stern believer that all persons are essentially good but that all retain fatal flaws in their nature--Monk can sometimes be hyper judgemental of others while not always maintaining clarity about his own fatal character flaws. He hopes that his time in the field succeeding graduation from the Academy will help him mature into not only a better hunter, but a better person.
He is not one who loves combat, and he prefers to reason with aggressors before drawing sword and shield. If he must come to blows, he favors defensive maneuvers, every step he takes is in reaction to his opponent; no movement wastes energy, and he prefers to keep his strikes concise and tight, never one to give an opening to an opponent. He defers to patience rather than fire; subtlety rather than vigor.

Biography
Monk was never a large child, and small children are typically the brunt of a bully's ire. As a kid, Monk was berated for his lack of size and general athletic ability; shoved in lockers, robbed of lunch money, he was even rejected by the ugliest girl in school. He floundered on the social fringes of most any school he attended, transferring several times before he finally graduated and became somewhat of a recluse in adult society as well. Even though Monk was bullied, he returned no hatred for his oppressors and always sought to forgive; for that, Monk believed, was the way to true peace.

Since he had nothing close to a respectable social life, Monk secluded himself in his studies: mathematics, philosophy, English literature, Latin, history, art, fantasy, ancient weaponry, Greek mythology--a myriad of subjects and disciplines. In the years proceeding the end of his required formal education, Monk sought to learn more; his own repertoire of books failed to satiate his thirst for knowledge. It is then that he stumbled on the Academy, little did he know it was not quite the classical education (Law, Theology, Philosophy, Medicine) that he hoped for. His initial settling into the Academy was turbulent, while he was no longer the target of bullies, his years of relative social isolation prevented him from adjusting to the school's bustling social microcosm.

Alas, he learned. With his proverbial shell broken, Monk flowered. Excelling in the school's training in almost every subject, he quickly grew to love not only the Academy but also his fellow students--his fellow human beings. After completing his studies and graduating, Monk sought to bring joy and happiness to all.

Aura Color: White.

Semblance
As The Wind Does: Monk's Semblance allows him to separate the hydrogen bonds in his own body to allow him to pass through other objects with a hydrogen-carbon base. His physical body maintains its mass and weight, but projectiles, natural energies, and physical weapons pass through him without harm. While in this state, he can also move absolutely on surfaces, regardless of their nature: terrains from a different dimension, surfaces he has never explored before, shifting quarry--all his movements become effortless, fluid, and without hindrance. Any domain without a hydrogen-carbon base (any magical dimension that does not adhere to the laws of a natural universe) makes his Semblance moot. It may also alternate between its own properties at will--that is, sometimes attacks may pass through him but he cannot move absolutely atop surfaces, or he may be granted absolute movement, but attacks will not pass through him and will effect him as normal.

Weapons
Naginata: A two foot long polearm with a fifteen inch curved blade attached to its end; it allows for fluid attack chains and smooth defensive transitions while keeping an opponent at length.

Nodachi: A long Japanese sword from the Edo era of feudal Japan whose blade is 37.5 inches long and whose handle accommodates two handed use only. The sword is tucked into Monk's red waistband and protected by a white sheath.

Reaver: Combining his Naginata and his Nodachi together, the two form a shoulder gatlin gun that can fire several hundred rounds a minute. It is not entirely useful in one-on-one combat since it hinders Monk's movement completely; it finds its usefulness in obliterating groups of enemies within seconds.

Affinities: He uses air/wind as his primary element, be it for boosting his acceleration, attacks, defense, pushing the enemy away from him, gliding, etc.

Favors: Knowledge, reading, writing, interacting with people.
Dislikes: Pompous people, arrogance, defeatism.

Faults: Does not always see his own flaws while he is quick to point out the flaws in others.
In combat, he has a hard time taking things serious.

(Sidenote: I am new to this universe, so if my CS doesn't fit something, 'tis a rookie mistake.)

Erelith Roleplay (Look at First Post OOC)

Rögdûl the Black

or Rögdûl the Red Chief

(MAIN)

Strengths

Leadership
Battle Hardened
Abnormal Raw strength
Endurance
Extraordinarily Durable
Intimidation

Physical Appearance

Height: 6'9.
Age: 25.
Build: Dense, compact muscles; bullish legs, extremely powerful shoulders and triceps.

Personal Items
Shakatrog: a one handed blade forged from volcanic rock and reinforced with ancient blackened steel. It is said that this blade burns to the cut--it is passed on to each Red Chief of the Claw tribe.

History

Rogdul hails from the Red Claw tribal band of mountain orcs to the North of the mountains of Praelium. His father, Boruug the Crazed, led the Red Claw into an age of prosperity (well, as prosperous as savage Orc bands can be); the raids were plenty, the feasts were abundant, the women were wild, the small warband quickly grew into a fledgling nation. That is until the Great Scourge happened; for years, smaller Orc warbands had been waiting, gathering manpower and wresting jealous chieftans from all across the North to annihlate Boruug the Crazed and all of his progeny.

Led by Khazak-dun, the twelve Northern Orc tribes amassed a small army of well over 200 and marched upon the unsuspecting Red Claw, who could foot twenty well armed soldiers at most. Men, women, children, desolated. Crazed King Boruug, as Orcish folkore later had him, fought to his last breath before he fell. Khazak and his band of traitors had not found who they had come for, Boruug's progeny: a son and daughter. Trusted guard and the Crazed's most beloved advisor, Urim the White, had gotten both to safety.

That was twenty two years ago. Today, Boruug's only heir seeks to re-establish the scattered warring Orc tribes in Praelium's Northern hills and once more bring peace. But the Northern Hills are not kind to anyone, not even savage Orcs--for the Red Claw to revive, and more importantly, survive they will need allies, and many of them.

The Red Claw

Political Structure

Clawmen and women adhere to a strict totalitarian policy insofar as the the Red Chief's word is law. He is the one who organizes all raids, handles all diplomatic matters and is responsible for the welfare of the band as a whole. He may defer powers endowed upon him to another if he so wishes, though doing so is often seen as a form of weakness amongst his kindred. The hierarchy is purportedly as such:

The Red Chief
↓
Advisor/Warchief
↓
Chief's Hand
↓
Tribe members

The Society of the Red Claw Tribe

While not as exclusive or elitist as some of its near homogenous orc tribe brothers, the Red Claw are selective about whom they allow into their ranks. One must first overcome The Kaushatar (literally translated, "The Ritual.") a series of tests which, if failed, result in death of the participant. The Red Claw, while they do raid and pillage like other Orc tribes, do not conduct raids that are random or unprovoked. Those who deign to make themselves enemies of the Claw may expect no mercy.

Concerning magic and other alien matters--the Claw are not averse to magic, if for no other reason than that the Red Chief (whomever he/she may be at the time) can allow or disallow magic practices within the walls of the Claw's foothill fortress as he or she wishes. As a result, the upper eschelon of the Claw tribe have rudimentary understanding of some elemental magic, but nothing extensive enough that would warrant him or her able to use it with any proficiency, let alone defend against it.

Erelith Roleplay (Look at First Post OOC)

My plan is to make an Orc, is that cool?

COSA NOSTRA

Interested.

Heroes and Villains : The Resistance (HAV : TR)

@Timemaster I believe I've edited everything so it fits the requested requirements.

Heroes and Villains : The Resistance (HAV : TR)

Okay, so what I'm figuring is that since a human bodybuilder (without steroids) is able to lift somewhere around eight hundred pounds, and to lesser extent, NFL athletes (Marshawn Lynch, Clay Matthews, etc) can lift around 300 and squat around 500lbs that somewhere in the 400lbs strength range is passable--but you let me know.