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    1. Makrinagon 9 yrs ago

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I'm definitely interested!

Question though: I'd want to be a scientist for sure. Does anyone object to a character who cannot hear? I have an idea for a character that's been floating around in my head for a while and them being deaf is part of that.
Count me in for sure! This could definitely be interesting.
Really, the biggest hurdle you've got for yourself with this guy is that he can't speak mortal languages. It won't do him much good to understand us if all he'll ever be hearing is how monstrous he is and how much everyone wants him dead! I'm fine with the character's existence, but I think he needs to have some means of communication. And what that is is fine by me - he can talk, sign, inject his thoughts directly, what have you, so long as he can communicate with everyone else.

The other thing is, why would a character like this be working for someone as opposed to setting up their own group or, even better, staying out of mortal affairs? It's obvious why the Dark characters would want him on their side, but what can they offer him that would make him join up?

Aside from that though, I think it's a decent character and an interesting concept.

@makrinagon Did you miss the fact that Adria blasted Kaird with her sound magic? Acknowledgement would be nice.


I did miss that, actually! Will go back and change it up now. My apologies, I think I may have misinterpreted who she was blasting.

EDIT: Fixed. I dunno if this shows up in your notifications or not, but acknowledgement has been added! Again, sorry I missed it the first time.
Whump. A massive force impacted Kaird's midsection, causing him to stagger backward. He performed a cursory check - no detached ribs, at least that he could feel through his armor, nothing terribly out of place. Just a lack of air in his lungs, and he knew that would come back. He gulped down huge mouthfuls of air as he straightened himself up, still reeling from the invisible punch to his gut.

He could fret about his trunk later. Right now, there were other, far more pressing matters to concern himself with. Kaird watched in a half-fascinated, half-horrified state as the latecomer slashed her way towards him. Sure, his 'allies' were nothing special - he could've cut through them with much the same speed had it been necessary - but there was something unnerving about the fury with which she strove for him.

He must've hit a nerve with his firebomb. Many had that reaction, seeing their comrades consumed by the primal fury of burning oil.

Good. That would make this all the more satisfying.

Kaird ducked under the first wild swing, whipping his left arm around to catch the second on the thick leather of his gauntlet. He took a split second to admire the blades. He'd never seen anything quite like their broad heads or strange curves, almost like reverse scimitars. That strange shape was probably what had saved his hand from amputation. As it was, the force of its 'neck' impacting his gauntlet and skimming away resonated through his arm. He felt his fingers grow numb, and a hot, biting pain crept up his forearm. He felt a grin split his lips. He hadn't had a fight like this since the last time he met a Paladin.

Sliding the Lucerne down in his grip, he took a heavy overhand swing at the redhead. Her friends had met the fire, now she would meet the steel.

@IcePezz

As much distaste as he held for his company, Kaird couldn't help but feel a thrill as he charged forward with the smelly, disorganized mass of bandits. They lacked direction, lacked purpose, but even motivated by coin as they were, they were still a force to be reckoned with. By the reactions of the Rangers, Kaird could tell this was a point they seemed to have neglected to consider.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Akrelmar loose a heavy overhand swing at a man half his size, only to be promptly countered. Classic mistake. You never underestimated the small ones. Kaird was very personally familiar with this concept. He glanced away as a flurry of blows landed on his leader-in-name. Even had the luxury been his, he wouldn't have spared that oaf another second of his time.

The line of Rangers was nearly within swinging distance. Kaird registered genuine fear in their eyes, save for the newcomers to the line - the horsemen showed very little in the way of any emotion. Almost as an afterthought, Kaird loosed an arrow at one of the horses. In the same motion, he drew his Lucerne and one of the small urns marked "Holy Fire." He struck a small cap on the top, igniting it, and dashed the urn towards the men at his right. A feeling of grim satisfaction crossed his mind. Those urns had scorched alive many knights in full platemail; a little leather would likely prove to be even less effective at keeping the concoction out. Gripping his hammer tightly, he let out a roar and swung at the chest of the nearest Ranger. Whether by his fire or his steel, he intended to end as many of them himself as possible.
The Rangers' arrows sailed in from their firing line. Kaird dove to the side, pushing his back into a pile of rubble. Why had Akrelmar had to...well, be himself? That detestable excuse for a human being had proven to be nothing more than a hindrance masquerading as the most experienced sellsword this side of the White Woods.

"McGrath!" hollered one of his comrades. "For the love of the divines, start fir-" The man's words were cut off by the meaty thunk of an arrow slamming into his shoulder. He fell to the ground, wriggling and moaning. Harmed, and probably on his way out, but definitely alive. That was strange. Rangers didn't usually leave survivors. Unless, of course, it suited them.

"Stand your ground!" Kaird hollered. "Stand! They mean to scatter us and pick us off one by one!" He withdrew one of his wickedly-pointed arrows and slid it into place on his bow, aiming for the line of rangers. He didn't need to look over to see Akrelmar's furious gaze. He could feel it burning a hole in the side of his face.

However, a quick glance showed his fellow mercs had, in some capacity, followed his order. A select few had followed his example, taking rudimentary cover behind cobblestone slides and readying for a fight. Most of them hadn't, and were focused on dodging arrows and trying to get a bead on the rangers.

Kaird fired at the left-most Ranger, slid down the pile of stones, withdrew another arrow, and waited. Rangers, bandits, Akrelmar...he had no intention of letting anyone get in the way of his true purpose here.
Hoping to get in on this!

Name: Kaird McGrath

Appearance: Kaird is short and wiry, with pale skin and sunken, bloodshot eyes that betray his near-constant state of sleep deprivation and avoidance of daylight. A greasy, unkempt mop of red hair slides down around his jaw, which is coated in a few days' worth of beard that he can't be bothered to scrape off. He wears a simple set of lightweight leather armor that almost doesn't look like armor, and definitely doesn't look well cared-for. A shortbow is usually slung over his shoulder along with a quiver of arrows and a long, pouch-like sheath for his hammer.

Age: 32

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Side: Dark

Weapons(s): A lucerne hammer with a shortened, reinforced handle, a karambit made from the claw of a bear, and a shortbow, which is used almost exclusively to fire bodkin arrows. Several small urns rest in pouches on his belt; these are filled with a mixture of oil and soap, and are jokingly inscribed with "holy fire." He sets these aflame and dashes them in the faceplates of unsuspecting Paladins.

Abilities/Powers: Nothing discernible at first glance.

Talent(s): Kaird is an excellent shot, especially from close range. As a former assistant to his village's healer, he has little knowledge on how to fix people, but has a great knowledge of peoples' soft spots. Not many in the land know of the possibility of bleeding to death internally from a broken leg, or the exact length down someone's back to strike if you wish to fully immobilize them.

Personality: For a rural hunter, Kaird is oddly distant and callous. He tends to be very straightforward and humorless in his interactions with others. Rationality is not his strongest point, and he tends to hold grudges long after they've ceased to be practical or even understandable.

Biography: Kaird hails from a small town bordering the White Woods. Much of his childhood was entirely unremarkable, especially for his surroundings. Nobody in his village ever did much with their lives beyond the borders of the settlement, which, while undesirable to most, never struck Kaird as particularly loathsome. His parents trained him to be a hunter like them, which he took to for all the wrong reasons. There was something thrilling about tracking down another being and ending its life, even if that being was just a deer. Even with the thrill, he found this troubling. To mitigate what he interpreted as things he shouldn't be feeling, he began studying the arts of medicine with the village's healer. Something bad for something good, in his mind.
When Kaird was 12, a war broke out between two neighboring families of nobles - the Stein family in the south, and the Korsh family in the north. The soldiers sent by Korsh were perhaps a bit overzealous in their duties, and occupied Kaird's village to "protect" against incursions from their enemies. Kaird didn't like them. One Paladin in particular, Atticus Korsh, seemed to go out of his way to make trouble for Kaird and the healer.
After little more than a month, Korsh's forces declared themselves victorious. Kaird and the healer worked days on end to keep the wounded alive, with varying levels of success. Despite failing to keep some of Korsh's men alive, they had the Paladin's grudging respect for their efforts. At least, until one of Stein's soldiers staggered into town and was taken in. Before Kaird had a chance to attempt to fix his injuries, Paladin Atticus demanded the man be brought to justice for his crimes, and dragged him away.
To Kaird, that was wrong. Atticus had crossed a line that would be the death of him.

These thoughts stewed for four years. Upon his sixteenth birthday, Kaird resolved to finally act on his plans that had been brewing since the Paladin left. Unfortunately, this would prove to be the hardest part. His skills he'd used to track game were useless against a fellow human, especially one who'd left years ago. By the time he managed to track Atticus to the town of Crosswatch, more than a year had elapsed. Kaird had waited this long; a few more days would hardly kill him. He stalked the Paladin's movements day in and day out, reigniting his hatred for the man - and his entire order - in the process. Their sense of "justice" struck Kaird as sick and twisted. Those deemed friends were never questioned, those deemed enemies were never heard. It seemed like such an inherently flawed system, and it was one that was defended so absolutely.
On his way out of town, Atticus was confronted by a man he vaguely recognized, but couldn't tell where from. His hails were met with an arrow to the chest, loosed faster than his eye could track. His last sight was of this strange man's smirk as he lit fire to a small urn and dashed it in the Paladin's face.

Since then, Kaird has been on the run, though he feels this life suits him. He was never good enough with people to spend too much time around them, and was never a good enough healer to make anything of that. When he was eventually approached by a strange recruiter who promised him more chances to strike at the Paladins and their twisted sense of right and wrong, he accepted without a second thought. Not only were Paladins the target of this army, but the royalty of the land was slated to fall under their collective ax as well. Kaird intends to put his refined techniques to use under this army's banner, which flies the colors of the defeated Stein family. There are whispers among the ranks that their leader is none other than a Stein returned from the dead, but such seems the realm of ghost stories and drunken nonsense. No man could rise from death to smite those who wronged him. Right?

Name: Albadius Reinhold Faction: Waldgeist Age: 21 Gender: Male Appearance: Albadius has the look of a snobby upper-class merchant, with none of the charm actual merchants tend to have. He keeps his hair buzzed short, which causes his aquiline features to stand out even more than they already would. He stands around 5' 6" and is underweight for his height, and though his build is athletic it compliments his unhealthy appearance. He is almost always seen wearing a baggy coat to better conceal his weapons of choice. Personality: Albadius is a man of action. A vengeful, bloodthirsty man of action. If someone hurts him, he will do his best to hurt them more. The concept of mercy strikes him as weird and pointless - he views sparing his enemies as giving them a free shot at his back, which he refuses to do. Diplomacy is not his strong point, but he recognizes this and does his best to stay away from situations that can't be solved with blunt force. Background: Albadius grew up in a reasonably wealthy town, born to a stable merchant family. He was expected, as were his siblings, to attend school, graduate top of the class, and take their place in the family business. However, the life of a trader held no allure for Albadius. He'd prefer to go out and see the world, rather than merely serve people who did so. The easiest way for him to do that, he figured, would be to join the Imperial military. Though he could handle a sword with the best of them, his wiry build and diminutive stature caused him enough trouble with the fitness tests that he did not qualify. Rather than accept that the army didn't want him and call it a day, he followed the recruiting officer home and killed the man in an alley. Realizing his own fate would be similar if he stayed in town a minute longer than he needed to, Albadius fled to join the rebels, who welcomed him with open arms. Skills: Albadius is well-trained in the use of a shortsword and shield, something of a family tradition. He is fast with his hands and even faster on his feet, and has learned to use his size to his advantage. His real shortcoming is the less violent side of things. He's well versed in socialization due to his upbringing, but tends to think of himself as better than the common rabble and certainly better than Imperial soldiers. He has, however, been able to accurately predict the movements of wealthy targets, for which he is given some small measure of recognition. Teigu: None yet
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