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|| The School of Death ||

Who is still around?

Terrenum: The Great War (Fantasy/Realistic/Dice - Recruiting Applicants)

E Z L A N
At the guild

---

The coincidences of life n fate.

Ezlan, bare foot and chested casually stroll into the main guild hall, shoving the main doors open wide with a fierce bravado and gusto as he entered. His movements were very aloof and without any urgency at all. He carried with him an air of confident surety often reserved only for those in positions of power, the elite and important, those otherwise considered untouchable.
Having found an apple on a nearby table, ignoring the current bite missing from it or the ownership therefore implied, he threw it into the air a couple of times, bouncing it in his hand before crunching deep into it, the juices running over his swollen lip and down his bearded chin as he carelessly devoured it, core and all.

Meanwhile a few rooms away, with dishevelled burgundy hair and in ruffled twisted leathers, the runner was slouched over herself hurriedly re-lacing her boots. It was considered improper of her not to be present at her wards arrival. As a long standing guild member she prided herself on her service and contributions to the guild that literally saved her life. Failing this frustrated her, a frustration that steadily grew and was aimed at Ezlan.

“Where’s the old salt hiding?” Ezlan called out aloud to some passers by, only swallowing the last of his food after he spoke.
“The guild master.” He quickly added after realising their confusion. He had not been away from the sea for long, and had been at the guild for even less, since then he had been finding language and mannerisms that he needed to adjust, customs that needed to be learnt, but for most parts it was something he cared little for. Fitting in was never really his thing.

Never having received a formal summons to the guild before, Ezlan looked around for someone he might recognise. Although to be fair, due to lifestyle choices, unless there was a big breasted guild member, Ezlan was more likely to find a familiar face at the local brothel or tavern over his own guild hall. This was not a representation of his loyalties (or lack of), but rather an indicator of how he’d rather spend his free time.

Spending as little time at the guild as possible also had helped ensure the longevity of his relationship and membership. It was a sign of value and respect that he had kept away.
Even a dog knows not to defecate where he sleeps. Or as the Caerbean commonly say, ‘Don’t soil your own nest.’

So his time had been spent exploring and getting to know his new city. To him this was truly a wonderful town, it still held that new undiscovered excitement that came with the unknown. Much wonder was hidden down the old and shabby streets, he was still finding many new holes to drink at and fill...
He was a sailor after all, a Caerbean of high ego and low standards.

With an eager excitement in his eyes, he wondered upon what new adventures and challenging dangers may unfurl from this highly mysterious meeting. Only time would tell.

Celestial Bonds

*bump* I’m looking for a keen partner! :)

Terrenum: The Great War (Fantasy/Realistic/Dice - Recruiting Applicants)

I might make a local guild post later today. Just a short one of him loafing about.

Edit: Turned out a bit longer than planned. But I’m at the guildhall if anyone wants to interact.

Terrenum: The Great War (Fantasy/Realistic/Dice - Recruiting Applicants)

Just a quick curiosity, I’ve seen ‘pens’ but assumed we would still be at ‘ink and quill’?

Terrenum: The Great War (Fantasy/Realistic/Dice - Recruiting Applicants)

E Z L A N
On the streets now heading to the guild

With a heavy ‘THUD’ the third consecutive body came out crashing down to the hard dusty bustling road very unceremoniously. Crowds and passerby’s began to pause and gathered to watch the sudden commotion with curiosity and a slight selfish interest.

With a groan, the latest body to be added to the street managed to pull himself back together and regain his knees. In doing so, a shiny copper coin escaped his grasp, slipping from his fingers it rolled out, bouncing its way across the sand and dirt travelling further and further away. Finally its journey came to a end, hitting the toe of a bystanders sturdy worn boot it gently ricocheted back and fell into a spiral before eventually settling down on the spot. Now flat on its side a familiar and well known symbol was exposed to the bright sky above, that of a river winding beneath a shield.

With a sigh, the boots owner, a guild message runner in hooded travel garb, quickly knelt down and picked it up.
”How many this time?” they asked in a quiet harsh whisper, quickly hiding the guild token from anyone else’s view. Frustration and amusement entwined together within their voice.

“Three” The man kneeling on the floor replied roughly with a battered cough. Slowly he brought himself to stand, gradually and steadily stretching out his limbs as he did, giving the odd wince of pain as he tested his mobility and movement. Standing just above average height and of a solid muscular build. His skin kissed from the sun and marred with the faint marks of old scars, was highly exposed under his loose open common dockhand garbs. He had short disheveled dark hair with a beard to match and piecing intense eyes that held capability of a ferocity and playfulness both.
A wicked and dangerously charming smile took his face revealing a full row of white teeth stained with blood, sitting behind his split, bruised lower lip. He dust himself off and rolled his neck from side to side letting out a loud crunching sound.

“Three, is that all? You’re losing your touch.” The messenger replied in a soft quiet voice while cautiously watching the two men still on the floor and the other five tightly packed in and around the taverns exit, trying to look as intimidating as they could while nervously waiting to see what would happen next.

“I thought I did pretty well for myself.” He said proudly.
“Two of ‘em were sisters, ‘en’ I think the other someone’s daughter or wife.” Of course, this guy wasn’t counting the number of men he was fighting but instead was more focused on the woman he was bedding. What a man chose to measure showed where his priorities lay.

The messenger seemed slightly aggravated by this last remark, maybe even a little insulted. With a huff they fell back their hood, purposely revealing a head of long luscious burgundy red hair. She bore a noticeably pretty face, light skin with some gentle freckles across her cheeks, soft plump lips and the most sky blue eyes ever seen. Beneath the protective layered runners outfit she was fit in frame albeit slightly thin from a life time of eating just barely enough. Because of this she still held the body shape of a younger girl. But a girl nonetheless.
With the effects of her display and the point of her theatrics going seemingly unnoticed, she grumbled and growled. “Ezlan! “Your presence is requested back at the guild.” She snapped, delivering her intended message.

“Yup wife.” Ezlan confirmed to himself, ignoring the messenger as he leant over one of the unconscious men, checking his pulse and lifting up his hand.
“Well I guess he won’t be needing this anymore.” He said with a proud self-amused chuckle as he removed the unconscious mans wedding ring. “You gave it a good try, may the Maiden bless your efforts with new opportunities for honour.” Pocketing the ring he nonchalantly let the mans arm fall heavily to the floor as he walked on by.

The messenger noticing the men at the tavern growing increasingly restless with Ezlans presence and antics, while the women at the windows swooning at the glass only making matters worse, she swiftly added to her previous sentence,
“It may have something to do with that Iron Harbour attack.” She blurted out desperately.

Finally this caught Ezlan’s attention, the messenger sighed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank god.’ She whispered to herself under her breath. “I’ll accompany you.” She announce loudly, trying to hurry along the Carebean brawler to the guild before he could get himself into any more trouble. Undoubtedly aware of the carnage and mess most likely left within the tavern from which they were walking away from.

Altera: Of the Destitute and the Destined

@ERode

NP, thanks

Altera: Of the Destitute and the Destined

Still accepting?

Terrenum: The Great War (Fantasy/Realistic/Dice - Recruiting Applicants)

Ezlan

Character Name: Ezlan Hackshaw
Racial/Ethnic Background: Caerbean (faint orc ancestry)
Grapple: Standard
Unarmed: 5
Melee Skill: 3
Ranged Skill: 3
Strength: 4
Toughness: 3
Wounds: 1
Initiative: 3
Will Power: 3
Morale: 6
Combat Sense: 6
Attacks: 2d6

Weapons:
Net (grapple 10ft)
Studded greaves (bashing)
Brass knuckles (bashing)
Punch dagger (piercing)

Armor:
Buckler (light shield 6)
Light chain shirt (B 20% / S 50% / P 30%)
Steel greaves and bracers
Leather wrappings.

Special Rules:

Caerbean Deck Hand - Saltwater runs through your veins. Adrenaline is your drug of choice. The only thing better than a good fight is a good fuck - the only thing better than a good fuck is a good fight after a good fuck. Caerbeans are natural sailors, fighters and are generally at the heart of any bar-room party. They are also quick to fight just for the fun of it and are natural showmen.

Orc Blood Rage - Anybody with a trace of orc in their lineage has a chance to be afflicted by the Blood Rage. When your blood burns hot and your vision turns red, few things can stop you. After preparing for one hour, the character gains a three-hour window in which they can voluntarily go into a Blood Rage. Alternatively, after three active rounds engaged in combat, the character will go into an involuntary Blood Rage. A Blood Rage may be ended with a successful (strength 3) Will test or upon the character taking a debilitating wound. While Blood Rage is active, the character gains +1 Initiative, +1d6 on attacks and Die Hard on a 6 (Die Hard is rolled after all normal saves and, if successful, ignores all wounds that the character might have taken at that point).

Background:

Story so far

One of his Grandparents were high nobles from Hecate, an important person of position and wealth. All was lost when they mingled with a Caerbean woman. Ezlan does not know the full extent of this story but blame of his families poverty and struggles have fallen to the uptight laws and law keepers of the Hecate.
Two generations later Ezlan, a proud follower of the storm maiden, a bringer of chaos and a notorious brawler from the docks, is interested in his family history. But to learn of such he must first make a name for himself.

Currently residing in Caerbea and calling it home, a fair amount of his childhood and past struggles occurred in the Iron Harbour. Growing up there he fought, fought a lot. He still proudly wears the scars to prove it. While he enjoys a good skirmish, his blood often boils intently with rage.
It was there, because of this, lost in a blind rage he accidentally murdered his best friend during a petty brawl.

It was a life changing moment that sent him to the church to study and grow. Eventually he found his way back to the path of the Storm maiden, became a great dock hand, was good at entertaining company and quite a knowledgeable story teller. But his short temper, violent tendencies and highly competitive reckless streaks caused him to be cast out time after time. The same reasons he has held so few friends or lovers long term.

Despite being a keen brawler and always eager for a fight he is also quite intelligent.
He has a wide curiosity and a special interest in history and biology, wanting to expand on what he learnt at the church. As such he enjoys reading and collecting.
It is that curiosity that drew him to the sea and docks where he could meet interesting people and learn their tales.
For this he has many stories to share and a knack for telling them.
His favourite stories are of history, battle or feats of strength and ingenuity. He incorporates these lessons and other gained knowledge into his fighting style to gain every advantage he can.

He is almost as good as aiding the injured as he is at injuring people.
Helping is now in his nature, and while he tries to be content with what he has, deep inside he has always had a yearning for more. To be something more. A feeling or desire to be destined for some sort of greatness. He constantly tries to prove his worthyness to himself and the Storm Maiden who guides his path.

Mortal Kombat Outworld war

Interested