An Outsider

Age of Man: Return of The Ancients

I first started Rping on a David Gemmell fan site years ago. It was set ten years after the Siege of Dros Delnoch, with multiple different plot lines. There was a war between the Nadir tribes, a Vagir Earls niece was kidnapped from Delnoch and a crew of former soldiers were hunting a Waylander-esque assassin. Funnily enough one of the characters on that RP was called Blademaster.

Age of Man: Return of The Ancients

Deamonbane said
I loved Dace. Although I do think that Dark Moon was Gemmell's best non-Tales of the Drenai book, despite my like of his Stones of Power Series. The Troy books needed a little help in my humble opinion.

Troy was alright, but wasn't up to his usual scratch, though I think Odysseus might be one of his best characters. Yeah, Dark Moon was his best stand alone, then Morningstar. The Rigante series was awesome too, cannae beat a bit of Jaim Grymauch.

Age of Man: Return of The Ancients

Corraich wasn't as surprised as some might be to find a woman in the command tent. The North was famous for it's Spear-Wives and Shield-Maidens, lassies as fierce and brutal as their male counterparts, if not more so. Still, this woman didn't seem to be cut from the same cloth as Dreamless or Heigl Knifesinger of the North, for one she wasn't a bruised and scarred harridan that was as like to stab him as look at him.

The Commander Gharskul was a big lad, as big as Corraich himself. Not uncommon for folk to get that big up North, but a damn sight rarer down South. He carried himself well, with the easy grace and confidence of a practised warrior. Malak didn't have that frightened look most Southerners got when they seen Corraich. No, this man was a wolf, not a rabbit. And he knew it. The commander offered his hand in that greeting southerners preferred, the Northman taking and shaking it with some trepidation. He'd never understood the penchant for 'shaking hands', thinking it was too big a risk that a man could shake your hand with his right, but stick a knife in your guts with his left. Just like The King of the North did to me! Still, the Commander of the Iron Wolves hardly struck him as that type of man. But then, Teovin never struck you as the type to betray you either. Didn't stop him doing it though.

He stood in silence as the Commander and the woman, obviously a chief or lord in this band, argued his fate in the company. He smiled as warm as he could muster at the lassie, hoping to blunt some of the ire she felt for him, but his efforts fell on stony grounds again as all it got him was another glare. Good to see that my old magic with the female population still stands.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't bothered to find out he wasn't gonna be in Bonnie Yohn's squad, the ugly soldier was nothing if not good company, but his men also seemed to be well trained and happy with their Captain. Still, no point crying about missed opportunity, his Pa had always told him that you had to dance with the partner you were given, and if that partner was to be Arthur Gharskull then so be it. Corraich took it that the meeting was over, so he followed Yohn out of the tent. That’s it then. I’m an Iron Wolf. Back walking the Warrior’s Path. Some things just don‘t change, no matter how much time passes.

Yohn trudged back towards the cook fire were Corraich had first found him.

“Damn shame that you’re not with me North, never can have too many big barbaric bastards like you in a crew, specially when you‘re going up against Orcs. Still, Arthur isn’t a bad Captain to serve under I reckon. He may be young, but he knows his stuff. Lotta fella’s here think he’s been raised higher than his limited experience should allow, but I know a fighting man when I see one and he’s becoming one hell of a fighting man. Aye you could do worse than young Garskull.” Yohn dropped himself back into his seat, gesturing for Corraich to sit next to him. The Northman was asked if he was hungry, and when he answered yes he was handed a hunk of day old bread and some musty cheese. Not exactly a kings banquet, but Corraich had stomached far worse during his time. Besides, the mould adds to the flavour.

As the Northman finished up his meal he began to realise the flow of conversation around the fire had slowed to a trickle, Yohn’s crew eyeing him warily. Most of them were almost as intimidated by the big barbarian as the young sentry at the gate had been. Corraich sighed wearily, realising once more that some things never change. Back up North his grim reputation had always preceded him, men fearing him for the stories of his ferocity and bloodlust that were told. Here though, no one knew his name, or his dark deeds, of how he burnt families alive or killed men for no more than looking at hum. Here they just feared him for who he could be, rather than who he was.

“So. . . ” he said after the silence had gone on for a while “Any of you lads ever heard the one about the Soolian Mage and the Beduan whore?” a host of blank faces looked back at him, so he tore into one of the dirtiest and raunchiest jokes he had ever heard up North. If there’s one thing that binds soldiers together, it’s racist jokes about whores. By the time Arthur finds him Corraich will have swapped several jokes with Bonnie Yohn’s crew, and will find himself more popular by far.

Age of Man: Return of The Ancients

The big Northman once known as Corraich Fiadhaich approached the base camp of the Iron Wolves with a calm and measured pace. They were out here hunting Orcs after all, and he didn't want some green boy playing soldiers mistaking him for one of those big brutes and accidentally filling him full of crosbow bolts, all because he'd come outta the trees walking too fast. Not that the Iron Wolves had that sorta reputation, but you could never be to careful after all. As it was he was spotted by the sentries on watch pretty quick, who kept a wary eye on him as he crossed towards them.

"Ho there lads," he called out with a wave and a cheery smile. His pa always taught him that whatever you do in life, do it with a smile. Corraich had tried to stick to that as much as possible, coming to find that a smile could sometimes get you that which iron couldn't. Not often mind you, but enough to make it a trick worth trying.

These sentry's weren't looking all that receptive of his sunny demeanour though, in fact one of them, a beardless boy by the state of him, looked down right terrified. Corraich had come to accept that that was an almost constant reaction some southerners had to him, though if that was because he was a Northman, a scarred giant, or because they always shat their trousers at the slightest provocation he wasn't sure, though he had an inkling that it was a combination of the three. The boys companion sentry, a grey bearded vet, was a calmer sort though, hawking and spitting a lump of phlegm before answering.

"State your business or move on." A no nonsense type then. Corraich could appreciate that.

"I'm here looking for an Iron Wolf Captain named Bonnie Yohn. Say's I could find him here. Our business is for us to discuss."

The vet showed all the emotion of a stone as he considered Corraich's reply, while the boy managed to stay in a state of heightened terror that would have been almost impressive if it wasn't so pathetic. He wont last the soldier's life. Most likely be dead by winter solstice if he doesn't get off of the Warrior's Path, Corraich thought to himself. Finally the veteran sentry came to a decision.

"Alright. Follow me." With that the vet turned and stalked through the camp, Corriach's long legs struggling to keep pace with the man's hurried strides. As mercenary bases go the Iron Wolves wasn't the worst. The stink of the latrines wasn't too overpowering, the 'camp wives' who flocked to these sorta places weren't too ugly and the guards were still sober enough to stand. Aye, it was an inspiring sight true enough, nothing like the shambles the Spring Crows had called a camp, but Corraich reckoned the less said about those lads the better. The vet led him to a cook fire attended by a trio of Iron Wolves, amongst them the Captain Bonnie Yohn, so named for his legendary ugliness.

Bonnie Yohn's appearance was enough to take a man's breath away, with the right side of his face burnt horribly, his right eye a weeping mess that was covered by a cloth patch that only served to call more attention to his handicap, straggly greasy hair that stuck out at all angles an shit coloured teeth that looked like a row of broken headstones. He'd never be a maidens wet dream, but tales of Yohns ugliness were only matched by tales of his bravery. The man was a consummate professional when it came to soldiery, and a complete asset to the Wolves, as Corraich had come to find during the ambush. The veteran sentry announced their presence, Yohn turning his attention from a junior officer telling some ribald story to the vet and the Northman, his ugly face breaking into a revolting grin full of good humour.

"North, you came! Glad you didn't make a liar outta me, I told the commander you were the find of the century, but then started to worry you wouldn't show. Shoulda known that orc ambush wouldn't scare a big lad like you off! Good work Talky, now return to your post." Corraich, now going by North, returned the smile as Talky the sentry returned to the perimeter, though talk of that ambush brought back painful memories. He and Yohn had only met two days hence when Corraich had been signed on with a rival crew of mercenaries called the Spring Crows. The Crows, eager to fatten themselves on the coffers of the Sadan Empires like several other merc companies, had answered the call to arms at Fort Heinsworth. Unfortunately the Crows had been poorly led, badly organised and almost exclusively manned by idiots. On one of their few paltry scouting efforts they had been ambushed by a unit of Orcs. Corraich, who had only recently stepped back onto the Warriors Path when he had signed up with the Crows, was still rusty from inaction, failing to spot the ambush before it was almost too late. He woulda been killed if it hadn't been for Bonnie Yohn leading his Iron Wolves in a counter attack. As it stood Corraich was one of only three Crows that had survived the farce, the other two quickly deciding they had had their fill of mercenary work. Corraich had managed to kill four of the Orcs himself, through a combination of brute strength, one-time skill and incredible dumb luck, and Yohn had taken a liking to him, inviting him to join the Iron Wolves.

"Well come on then North, lets go introduce you to the Commander and make it official." Yohn rose and led them to the command tent, the guards letting him pass after confiscating Corriach's weapons. Or most of them at least, as Corraich still had one little knife hidden behind his belt buckle. Never can be to careful, after all. I've learnt that the hard way lads. Yohn coughed theatrically before speaking to his leader.

"Commander Gharskull, here's that Northman I mentioned to ya. Told ya he was a big one!"

Corraich waited patiently for the Commander to speak.

Age of Man: Return of The Ancients

Yeah, that Snaga is badass!

I was always more a Waylander man myself, though I also liked Tarantio/Dace from Dark Moon. (Thought you were going with Dace thing with you're first couple of posts when Decado had that voice in his head.)

Age of Man: Return of The Ancients

Ok, I'll get a intro post up some time today.

@Deamonbane have you ever seen the Swords of Night and Day that the Raven Armoury made?

The League - Superhero Sci Fi and Urban Fantasy RP

That's me finished Obsidian's bio in the Rogues.

Age of Man: Return of The Ancients

Cheers pal, that's me put in an age now. Can't wait to cause some mayhem!

Age of Man: Return of The Ancients

Character name:

Corraich Fiadhaich though going by North for now.

Gender:

Male

Age

29

Appearance



Corraich looks every inch the barbarian warlord. He strikes an imposing figure, standing over six foot four with a breadth of shoulder that would make a bull jealous. He is well muscled, with battleworn hands that look liked they could batter down a fortress wall if he put his mind to it. His body is a tapestry of scars, old and new alike.

Though once considered handsome fifeteen years of swordwork has conspired to give him a menacing look, his once flawless skin a patchwork of scars, his nose a broken mess. His hair is a dark brown, and usually hangs to his shoulders. He tries to keep his beard well trimmed, but its growth can ocassionally be too quick for him to razor. His eyes are a piercing blue, and are a constant window into his emotions.

Affinity

Dark

Bio:

Hard places breed hard men, and the Northern wilds is about as hard a place as they come. This saying has never been more apt than when discussing the infamous raider, warrior, barbarian and battlelord; Corraich Fiadhaich. Born in an unremarkable and unnamed Northern village somewhere in the Highland wilds, his early life was much like his peers. His father was once a warrior and raider of some renown, and as it became apparent that Corraich had inherited his fathers size and strength it was decided he should be trained in the way of the sword in anticipation of him one day joining a raiding group. Corraich took to his training with gusto, and on the day of his thirteenth birthday headed out on his first raid, nothing more than a scavenging run against the north of Talos.

From then on he joined every raid he could as soon as they would take him, desperate to earn a name for himself. The older men were sure he was destined for a early grave and jokingly called him the Undying. Corraich proved them wrong though, and he soon made his skills as a warrior and a raider apparent. Corraich’s luck improved, his village becoming strong and rich through a combination of good fortune, good leadership and Corraichs raiding. The other clans grew jealous though, and soon he found himself fighting other Northern Clansmen as well as Talos soldiers.

The short clan war was fierce and brutal, Corraich's outnumbered forces only managing to score a stalemate against their foes. In his desperation Corraich allied himself with a neutral tribe led by a young man named Teovin. Teovin was a strategic genius with aspirations of becoming the 'First King of the North'. He agreed to help Corraich if the Undying would agree to bind himself to his cause after that. Out of options Corraich agreed, and together the two young clansmen won the war.

The following years were bloody indeed. Teovin marched his forces up and down the North, enforcing his will upon the clans. Teovin wanted to bring civilisation to the tribes, desperate for his people to stop being the laughing stock of the modern world. Corraich became his right hand, crushing all those that stood against the would be king. It was during this time that Corraichs legends began to grow. Stories such as his battle against Tursa, the Great Bear Spirit of the Wilds, and his duel with Oleg Hammerborn, the invincible champion of the western tribes, thrilled the Northmen but tales of his burning the town of Eastmarch and slaughtering Chief Rast's family terrified them. It was also now when he met his wife and fathered two strong sons. Eventually Teovins cunning and Corraichs ferocity cowed most of their would be enemies. Though the tribes were still far from united it could only be a matter of time before they all bent the knee to the King of the North.

It was then that events took a strange turn. Some say Corraich tried to take leadership for himself, others that Teovin wanted to steal the Undying's wife, but for whatever reason the King of the North tried to have his Battlelord killed. A group of Teovin's most loyal men led a secret night time raid against Corraichs home. As luck would have it Corraich was out that night. His foes, disgusted at this turn of events, decided to not let the night become a total waste. They had their way with his wife, killed his servants, then set his home ablaze with his family still inside. When Corraich found out he did the only option left to him; he fled, only sparing the time it took to bury the charred remains of his family. He was a man alone, and even he couldn't defeat all the might of King Teovin alone.

Since then he has travelled the world, selling himself out as a labourer, a fisherman, a Shepard and one memorable stint as an actor. Always he has too move, as Teovin's men still hunt for him, a kings ransom in gold placed as his bounty. Recently he met a small group of Iron Wolves' who invited him to join their brotherhood. Though he isn't eager to return to the fighters path he has come to realise that war is the only skill he really has, and familly or no he still has to eat. Taking a chance he has come to join, using a fake name of course.

The Northern wilds is a hard place, and he just wasn’t hard enough to survive it.

Skills and talents:

Corraich is an extremely capable warrior, having fought in some form or an other across several kingdoms for almost 15 years now. He can wield the axe, sword, spear, knife or mace with equal skill, is an excellent fist fighter and has earned his stripes in shield walls across the land. Though he is nothing special with a bow he can still shoot an arrow when it is called for.

He has learnt several languages from his time travelling the world, understands strategy and tactics, as well as how to hunt, track, cook, ride, make basic potions from herbs and steal. If it can help him stay alive he can do it.

He was once a famous battlelord, and as such has a keen understanding of tactics, strategy and morale. Though he prefers to think of himself as a warrior rather than a leader he has still led men to victory's in the past.

When pressed in battle he can be swamped by a berserker like rage. When possessed by the rage he is stronger, quicker and feels no pain. However he is then unable to distinguish friend from foe, making him a danger to all around him. He tries to refrain from entering this state.

Items:

He wears a tattered old leather great coat apparently made from the skin of Tursa, the Great Bear. Corraich has several hunting and throwing knifes secreted around his person, ascribing to the belief that one can never have too many blades. His wife made him a small pendant which he wears at all times. Apparently the clan shaman blessed it, and it will protect him from hostile magic’s. Whether this is true or not he doesn’t know. He wears a knapsack full of provisions for long journeys such as food, water and camping supplies. At the start of the Rp he has gotten his hands on a single handed axe, and a long steel dirk.

Teovin once gave him a bastard sword which was said to be a relic from the age of Gods. Were he got it from he never said, but it's craftmanship was superb. Since his fall from grace Corraich has never wielded it, but the story goes that he still owns it, and will only use it on those that have wronged him.

The League - Superhero Sci Fi and Urban Fantasy RP

Arty Fox said
I'm just wondering if I should play on the good ol' "I imagined you to be taller"

Or that she's never heard of him, see what that does for his ego!