Status

Recent Statuses

13 hrs ago
Current [Self depreciating comment that everyone finds funny]
4 likes
18 hrs ago
why would anyone listen to asmr
2 likes
8 days ago
when you see an RP party in need of an edgelord ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ
6 likes
10 days ago
That horrible feel when you are so smug about having posted but your partner posts before you can even inform them you did
3 likes
11 days ago
that feel when you look like a slightly chubbier brendan fraser
2 likes

Bio

Look at me and marvel at... I'll think of it, give me a moment.

Anyway, adding shit

My 1x1 Search:
roleplayerguild.com/topics/174244-and…

Languages:
Russian (native speaker)
Belarusian, English and French as others
doing my best to learn other interdasting ones



Most Recent Posts

You have my axe sparkly ice
^ same
@Eneui hmm, is there more on the world religion? I want me Knight to be Crusader styled, preferably Teutonic
@Eneui
Is there any more lore of the world, or do we make up our Kingdoms and such ourselves?
Mildly interested
@Jbcool
could we get a discord or something of the sorts for this too?
Name: Rundel Grimdtersson.

Race: Dwarf

Clan/Faction/Country: Formerly of Zhufbar, now a wandering Slayer

Class Descriptor: Daemon Slayer

Physical Description:
Obnoxiously tall for a Dwarf at 4'6, Rundel has a body that although possessing a slightly larger beer-belly than the larger Dwarf hides more muscle than the toughest of Hammerers. His red Slayer's mohawk is starting to fray with age, but it is nevertheless quite massive even by Slayer standards making his height technically go up to seven feet. His beard and whiskers are quite well styled, although short due to being burned off some two years back, his hair being naturally a very dark brown. Beyond a tattered pair of leather pants he wears nothing. His eyes are a brown almost black much like his hair, while upon his face he is generally considered 'average' for a Dwarf, with only notable features being a slightly more pointed nose and larger ears.

Weapons/Armor and Gear:
Klinkazes: His twin pair of Gromril axes, they are weapons of true beauty to behold. Few but Dwarves and Elves have eyesight keen enough to discern the full carvings upon the blades for the Gromril of them was made to be a light-sucking jet black, the names of Rundel's ancestors upon each. They both have particularly long handles for a better reach, and lack an armour-piercing pick on their inverse sides for the Gromril blades already cleave through even Chaos-plate like butter. An important thing to note of the blades is the additional Runic carvings upon them to help the wielder weather magics set upon them.

Zharrikaz: A two-handed hammer, it is a work of ingenuity akin to that in his axes. Also made of meteoric iron, the weapon is rather unorthodox in that it bears Runes of Burning more typically found on artillery pieces than close combat weapons. While for single-combat against more legendary foes Rundell prefers his twin axes, against lesser foes - particularly when in large numbers - he prefers his hammer for the flesh of many targets bursting helps him clear a path to the foes of real note.

Background:
Rundell was born in Zhufbar to a quite prominent family with a martial history as Ironbreakers. So long was their service in the field that they had even managed to accumulate hereditary Drakefire-arms in addition to the mere armour and hand-axe or hand-hammer with shield that most possess.

As was expected of any right minded lad in the family, Rundell joined the moment he fit into the plate. He served honourably, plowing through Skaven and Gobbos trying to invade the glorious hold of Zhufbar. However, the hold was not the only one he had seen. At the behest of his Lord and the High King of Dwarfs he had marched through much of the world, over a century seeing nearly the entirety of the old world. He went to the North-lands of Kislev to protect allied holds from vile Northlanders, he travelled West to deal with pesky Elgi of all three varieties. Yet after these travels, what he truly missed was his home, and thus there he returned.

It would be in Zhufbar not long after a return from one of his travels that his fall from grace happened. Rundell was patrolling the underway with a dozen of his comrades before a hole in the wall collapsed, and hundreds of Grobi and Urki were beyond. Naturally, the enemy was no match for a good shield-wall of Gromril in such a narrow passage, and as hours passed more and more greenskins lay dead at their feet with naught but a few bruises upon each warrior. As the enemy numbered but a few dozens, Rundell bellowed loudly before charging head first in the enemy, breaking ranks.

This folly was not one anyone would forget. As he did so quite suddenly squigs emerged from small holes covered with rocks, a quite simple but easily concealable trap loosed upon the Dawi. In but a minute half the force had died, in one way or another meeting a disgraceful end. By the end only three remained, and the unspoken agreement was quite clear.

Rundell returned not bothering to speak to anyone, simply taking a familial hammer before he went on the long trek to Karak Kadrin. At last he made it to his destination, and took his Slayer oath. From there on his life went as expected. Again he travelled the world, seeing familiar sights. Many enemies were felled by his weapons, starting from black orcs, progressing to Ogres, trolls, lesser daemons, but as he gained experience he found it harder and harder to come near his desired death. Chaos warriors and Champions, a Vampire count, all fell to his axes. Time progressed and even greater foes met their ends at his blades, eventually coming to include (and admittedly young and small) a Dragon and a Greater Daemon of Slaanesh.

Yet death ran from him no matter how hard he chased it. Thus, after much deliberation he decided that if he cannot find death, he best find some true purpose in his fights rather than simply killing in hopes of being killed. So, catching up to a band of Slayers he now heads of Karak Eight peaks in hopes of reclaiming part of the great Dwarven Fatherland.
"Haha, you're a funny one!" Daniel remarked at the halfling's words, for now making sure that what was said by both parties was interpreted as a form of jest. He walked firmly onwards, letting in just a shred of cautious optimism to his stride, expression and mind.

The shipman was just about to speak before Roald pulled him into an alley. He was mildly startled, then confused, and then at last annoyed but as he listened his mollified. It seemed the Ratling really had managed to pin down his words about his soul, or rather lack thereof and latched onto them. Daniel briefly considered dismissal and denial, but thought better of it. The halfling didn't seem too bad a sort, and if he was a ploy to lure him into the hands of someone that desired a blank for their own devices nefarious, then resisting now probably would not get him too far anyway. Thus, with no better alternative he kept on with Roald. "Alright then. Me name's Daniel." The lad raised his eyebrows to indicate that this was a prompt for Roald to reply with his own name. Once he hypothetically received it, he would continue. "Alright then, you seem likes you got more brains than me, what do you suggest we do?"

The lad asked the question with quite sincere anxiety, the Ratling's speech somewhat chilling his hopes for the near future. As if from nowhere he drew his stub-pistol, taking off the safety. "I got me this to fight off any bastards what might come after me. I'm a fast shot and draw, even if not a very good one. I can keep off the worries of this cuttthroat world for a little, but I need to get to the Rogue Trader, and get to him fast. Together we'll have a better chance, right? So what do you say we do, where do we go, which of the flyers do we check?"
@Jbcool

Name: Rundel Grimdtersson.

Race: Dwarf

Clan/Faction/Country: Formerly of Zhufbar, now a wandering Slayer

Class Descriptor: Daemon Slayer

Physical Description:
Obnoxiously tall for a Dwarf at 4'6, Rundel has a body that although possessing a slightly larger beer-belly than the larger Dwarf hides more muscle than the toughest of Hammerers. His red Slayer's mohawk is starting to fray with age, but it is nevertheless quite massive even by Slayer standards making his height technically go up to seven feet. His beard and whiskers are quite well styled, although short due to being burned off some two years back, his hair being naturally a very dark brown. Beyond a tattered pair of leather pants he wears nothing. His eyes are a brown almost black much like his hair, while upon his face he is generally considered 'average' for a Dwarf, with only notable features being a slightly more pointed nose and larger ears.

Weapons/Armor and Gear:
Klinkazes: His twin pair of Gromril axes, they are weapons of true beauty to behold. Few but Dwarves and Elves have eyesight keen enough to discern the full carvings upon the blades for the Gromril of them was made to be a light-sucking jet black, the names of Rundel's ancestors upon each. They both have particularly long handles for a better reach, and lack an armour-piercing pick on their inverse sides for the Gromril blades already cleave through even Chaos-plate like butter. An important thing to note of the blades is the additional Runic carvings upon them to help the wielder weather magics set upon them.

Zharrikaz: A two-handed hammer, it is a work of ingenuity akin to that in his axes. Also made of meteoric iron, the weapon is rather unorthodox in that it bears Runes of Burning more typically found on artillery pieces than close combat weapons. While for single-combat against more legendary foes Rundell prefers his twin axes, against lesser foes - particularly when in large numbers - he prefers his hammer for the flesh of many targets bursting helps him clear a path to the foes of real note.

Background:
Rundell was born in Zhufbar to a quite prominent family with a martial history as Ironbreakers. So long was their service in the field that they had even managed to accumulate hereditary Drakefire-arms in addition to the mere armour and hand-axe or hand-hammer with shield that most possess.

As was expected of any right minded lad in the family, Rundell joined the moment he fit into the plate. He served honourably, plowing through Skaven and Gobbos trying to invade the glorious hold of Zhufbar. However, the hold was not the only one he had seen. At the behest of his Lord and the High King of Dwarfs he had marched through much of the world, over a century seeing nearly the entirety of the old world. He went to the North-lands of Kislev to protect allied holds from vile Northlanders, he travelled West to deal with pesky Elgi of all three varieties. Yet after these travels, what he truly missed was his home, and thus there he returned.

It would be in Zhufbar not long after a return from one of his travels that his fall from grace happened. Rundell was patrolling the underway with a dozen of his comrades before a hole in the wall collapsed, and hundreds of Grobi and Urki were beyond. Naturally, the enemy was no match for a good shield-wall of Gromril in such a narrow passage, and as hours passed more and more greenskins lay dead at their feet with naught but a few bruises upon each warrior. As the enemy numbered but a few dozens, Rundell bellowed loudly before charging head first in the enemy, breaking ranks.

This folly was not one anyone would forget. As he did so quite suddenly squigs emerged from small holes covered with rocks, a quite simple but easily concealable trap loosed upon the Dawi. In but a minute half the force had died, in one way or another meeting a disgraceful end. By the end only three remained, and the unspoken agreement was quite clear.

Rundell returned not bothering to speak to anyone, simply taking a familial hammer before he went on the long trek to Karak Kadrin. At last he made it to his destination, and took his Slayer oath. From there on his life went as expected. Again he travelled the world, seeing familiar sights. Many enemies were felled by his weapons, starting from black orcs, progressing to Ogres, trolls, lesser daemons, but as he gained experience he found it harder and harder to come near his desired death. Chaos warriors and Champions, a Vampire count, all fell to his axes. Time progressed and even greater foes met their ends at his blades, eventually coming to include (and admittedly young and small) a Dragon and a Greater Daemon of Slaanesh.

Yet death ran from him no matter how hard he chased it. Thus, after much deliberation he decided that if he cannot find death, he best find some true purpose in his fights rather than simply killing in hopes of being killed. So, catching up to a band of Slayers he now heads of Karak Eight peaks in hopes of reclaiming part of the great Dwarven Fatherland.

@Andronicus23
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