PrinceAlexus

Shattered Steel - Armoured Fist. An RP about modern armoured vehicles in an alternate world- ON HIATUS

“Any targets on comms….” Anakin asked as he looked from his seat drinking coffee and looking at the screens. They had brief periods of great activity and long spells of waiting, boredom and delays. Artillery sat waiting quietly for the brief ear ringing comments of combat and action.

“None. Boss. No call outs. No feeds on the drone.” The Gunner replied, checking his screen and tapping into the command channel the arty crews were sharing. Some had fire missions but the Iron hides sector was quiet.. too bloody quiet. “Too quiet, too fucking quiet.” Xena replied as she leant back against the shell store stacked with rounds ready to fire and a growing number of empty shell slots, one special and rest standard HE shots.

“checking drone feeds.” Anakin said as he flicked between channels at the command station, feeds and frequency. He did not have full access but enough to check and get an idea of what was going on the battlefield. “Neg…wait… something. Movement, what ya think. ISR 13.” He said to the main gunner to run to the channel and pull up the footage of shapes distant moving in a half constructed building, concrete, cinder blocks with a large courtyard and what looked like tyre tracks and crates…

“Looks, reckon thats a Anti tank? Auto cannon modified?, but we got friendly on the next … bloody close shot. Could be an armory, not wanna go HE.” he looked over at the channels and what they had inventory, one mistaken loaded dummy shot, AP, HE, LASER, shotgun….

“What's distance on a tungsten… and a circle.” He asked as he also switched the channels about to their group.

“Group.. This is Anakin. Got a suspect house. Danger close. One street west. May have a secondary blast. Will be switching to tungsten shot, button down. Keep low. Frag effect only.”

“Set range. 3570 metres. Burst at 20 metres, 3530 metres detonate, high angle shot, scatter it on top like a pie plate.” The Gunner said with a stressed tone knowing how one digit out and their friends would have a few hundred holes in them. “Angle locked. Gun locked. Range locked. High angle one shot locked. Fuse set.” He repeated as lights came green confirming each stage was ready.

“3 charges. Ready.” Xena said as she sent the rammer home and the breach locked with a final sounding metal clunk.

“10… “ he started the countdown on the crew net radio and began to bounce his fingers on the controls at his station. A nervous moment and a real test of his crew.

….

The round roared over like a thundering truck as it broke the sound barrier, the gun rocked and the tracks creaked as a shell raced across the sky.

In a time that was fractional at best flying through the air, the shell struck not with force but the air burst detonated high, the shells angle and orientation sent a fan of Tungsten balls into the buildings upper story and roof sending hundreds of small balls that flew through materials with great plumes of dust that left a rising dusty haze over the building with light that shined through a structure filled with tiny holes like a star field.

“You guys ok?” Anakin asked as he nervously waited for the feed to update.

Chronicles of Minadra

vashthishtra silent sands. “Vashra”

Vasha nodded his head, he had picked up the gesture off others, he had learned and copied off others. That was how Vashra had adapted and learned from, so many times he learned and adapted. That was the scale folk way. They learned to live in the Morgador, they learned to travel, they learned to widen and slithering deeper and further into the lands that few others wanted or dared to travel. That suited the Scale folk just fine, very few wanted to even travel into the lands. Those who did, were far more interesting and also more dangerous.

“You see my people. When we want you to. If you traveled to Morgador, we saw you, tracked you, but not saw us. They approach when they want, or stray too close.” He said frankly. The scale folk were a reserved group and kept to themselves, it was only those who ignored the warnings, ignored the bones set of past invaders. They could choose, the Morgador was their home, a home few others could make.

He was frank, honest and did not hide his people's nature. The Scale folk were odd,but honest.

“Crop Smith, adventure better, crops important but adventure …. Good.” Vashra said with a drink of his beer, resting more casually and lower on his muscular tail, he curled about and blended in…well as best as one could be able to bend into the place full of two shod on leather and metal covers, winged and few were of genuine beast folk. “I hold my word to the clan.” Vashra met his eyes with slit eyes set in scales and a hint of fangs, the Scale folk said. He could read people, it was an essential skill to survive.

“We stay in our lands, we not always welcomed beyond the sands and rocks. Adventure, treasure to take home, clan wealth mean better for me. Clan rise, so will all.” He said not giving too much away about their culture but explaining the rough context. “We still find things in Morgador, many secrets. You should be careful if you seek us out, let scale come first, people slow welcome into hearth..” He said with a slight hiss, it was true even after generations they still found secrets and places hidden in the land they called home. The place had been home to those of great cunning who hid their secrets well and took those of great cunning to unlock them.

The 6th figure came with a bottle, one who seemed to bring gifts and also seemed more comfortable…a two shod always was on land of stone valleys… Vashra was not, beast folk did not venture deep into such places without reason. Scented, dressed like a smart two shod and clean. He definitely smelt of something.. different than normally he smelt in towns or out in wide lands.

He also had a faint.. very faint sense of dust, travel or something about him. Far to faint to make any use or detail. Vashra ignored it as some random fact or a rock in the path. This group was an odd mix, but no stranger than any other caravans or groups of adventurers who wanted to delve into the lands of Morgador. Not all welcomed their guides but also few were stupid enough to go without. Well the ones that returned.

“I Vashra, I can guide, hunt and … “ he paused seeing the symbols but they made little sense to the scale folk, he was not skilled in this… clan had many skills, but this was not his. He had seen many runes and left overs of structures still in the ruins they called home, but understood … no. “Runes, marks, in mountains ruins, sand and stone not eaten by mountains clear blood. Dead Stone masters carve and build many thjngs. Read no.” He said, if it was of the stone masters' works, they did like to carve and their works lasted a long time. The Scale folk still live in those, reinforced by their more simple stone and earth works used as wood and other materials were harder to get on mass. They were skilled at making the best of a place where there was not much to use and local materials helped them hide their works into the environment.

Empire of the Clouds

Le Mariner woke slowly the following morning, it was not a hang over but they had a rough week, a rough month to months. The war had been brewing, fighting and took a lot out of people and he hardly was the youngest of men.

He poured some leftover brandy into his coffee as he ate breakfast watching them fly over the terrain, the lands were flat and the expense of vast open lands was rising and falling. Light glittered from large rivers and lakes they could see from below and these areas were not ravaged and burning from war and shell fire. He felt … better to know some place was not being burned by the fires of the red military, his own home land would look like this with large warships that sat at anchor and ready to respond to threats. The large battleships had evolved rapidly in technology and size. Fired by boilers, clad in thick armour and guns that made the ones he commanded to be obsolete now.

Turrets had replaced broadsides, fuel had replaced winds and sails, hulls had grown from wood, iron, steel and now new generations of armour plate that was stronger and more resistant per ton than anything made before.

The captain's broadcast came across the ships mc1, he listened, a prince's event would be ideal for him to gain local information and gauge the mood of things going on. Who's let loose so many things if you really listened and paid attention. Even a small aspect of information would be potentially the thing that kept them alive, and maybe leverage an advantage. The second, a military gathering. Naturally, he was one of the officers aboard and had managed to carve out a niche in their unconventional chain of command. They had a structure and that was working for now.

He decided and straightened his battered somewhat uniform uniform, it definitely would need a little maintenance and work when they got into port, perhaps he could rush to make some extra items for day to day and duty use. Dark coats, where dark coats and so.

Meeting first, sorting out the tailors appointment, finding a local information maker to acquire new uniform items and some potentially cold weather gear etc, he doubted it would be nice up on this airship if the weather turned bad or they entered into a harsher climate. The ship should have a treasury he as a member of its crew should be able to draw from. This was essential and he probably would suggest the entire crew if they stayed outfit themselves for future endeavors while they had opportunity and a peaceful port. They had weapons but gear, rations, materials, medical? Did they need new kit, wireless, spares, engineering, repair materals… they needed a ships quarter master to be elected. Another item for the ship's meeting. Air ship….

Bad luck. He might end up with the job, though at least that would keep him busy… if not hunched over a desk with one good eye and a pen trying to sort out the details of running a ship. A reminder of his past times and experience as a junior officer and officer candidate.

…

He downed his cup, that was a good start for the day. Even if day drinking was… who could blame them for keeping and picking up some bad habits. He was hardly as bad as his sister, she was a society wife but she drank wine at breakfast daily.

He walked through the ship after washing off his plate and cup headed up to the bridge to find out if anything happened overnight and just see the maps.”Good morning, Gentlemen, Captain, graceful Ladies especiallywith last night's dancing. How be the . Sky sailing. Not Hung over Mr Carter.” He said as he checked the map, the distance and did a quick calculation of time, distance and speed drawing a metal bar over the map with a wide circle. It matched what he saw within reason and he looked scanned the future map and destinations beyond on lines stretching out to other important cities and nations.

“Intresting… this is like…. A great sea with no limits…” He said looking at the wider map, there were no limits by channels, seas or land masses… it was total freedom of navigation bar enemy territory and the high mountains.

“This airship thing, is… ? I see why you do it.” He said checking the charts and making notes in a book that listed the air ships navigation. A rather less filled out book but he changed that.

Paradise Lost

Reenneesuash (Ren to humans) daughter of veanamdarr

Ren swore a rather crude insult in her native language that may have been broadcast as she ran a big grapplingly great wrench in her door shield ramming a ichor covered metal beam through its skull with a very crude technique that however did kill the metacar and leave her stomping a heavy metal suit foot to smash its carcass off her weapon as she breathed heavily. The door was solid. Now it had great slashes, she could see through it and they were holding small numbers at choke points and even then they were giving them a fight with only 1 marine, crew and a power loader to hold them back.

If they had made a big push it might have been swarmed. With time, the defense was not great and most of them were just regular people doing their best. “Trying to Unlatch whoever took out the damn power fraked the bloody systems, we are doing it the hard way… Miss corpo and the others doing their best, going to try and detonate the explosive bolts at the station side so the systems will allow us to lock down properly.” Another voice came though the sound of machinery, shouting, weapons fire and a muffled thud and sound of machinery being stressed beyond its material limits.

A small warning alert at the bridge announced the use of emergency measures to try and break the docking link with the station at the cargo tunnel. The heavy outer door began to slowly start to close again, once the system recognised a potential manager but the outage station side had taken a while for everything on the crew's side to be able to take over from the sudden loss of power and computer cores aboard the space station.

Several load crew were preparing a defense in depth at the next secure hatch way, got past the first line they would try to bring it down. For a bunch of strangers and random groups they had out of desperation formed a fairly effective method of working. Desperate but everyone had a task, and long as they did theirs, it would help the others do their own.

“We have back up power back, but its gonna take time to get closed and break the link. Unless anyone's got a better plan” Ren asked across the general circuit audibly breathing hard and a sound of tearing steel as a claw rammed into a makeshift barricade. The sound of weapons fire intensifying and warnings to mind the red zone for the doors powered track.

“And whoever blew up the station with us attached must be crazy.” Ren added between the sounds of a heavy suit being pushed back grinding metal on metal and other noises.

Chronicles of Minadra

vashthishtra silent sands. “Vashra”

The large rabbit fell almost instantly to a large arrow that hit its side in the dusk light, its hunter had been silently moving from the wind of it and sensed its heat against the cooking night. The world was cooling from the sun and made the living creature glow hot against the hunters arrow. A slowly gathering pool of hot blood that turned from a vibrant yellow slowly into blue likes its life force gone. “Excellent” the hunter said turning back to its camp leaving a S shaped marked in the packed dirt of the main path and heads into the scrubby brush and low trees out the way where a carefully concealed fire lay in a rocky dip, lowly smoking, and giving very little signs of the scale folks presence.

The camp was all but invisible and the under had been here for a few days, taking time to rest after an extended journey and also to undertake maintenance, craft new arrows and to think over what to do next. An adventure to a place once thought myth and lost, an adventure deep into the unknown would bring great honour to his name among the tube especially if he returned with valuable metal or materials belonging to the God people of times of creation. Scale folk might not be the civilised city and town folk that gathered in other lands but they were far from barbarians and clans and small tribes were strongly bonded even when many leagues were far from each other. Loyalty to the clan was in soul, not just sight of one's home.

vashthishtra was now far from home, far from the sands and rocks that he had started from and deep into lands where water ran in great rivers rather than small rocky springs. Things were green here and the sun was weaker compared to what he was used to, not the imposing force that burned the landscape dry and forced the strongest even to be tested against the might of the desert and the light. he followed rumour despite many that looked at himnwith a mix of fear, curiosity, hate or just confused. They had never seen one of his kind it seemed.

Word brought him down to a place he would not normally venture often, by water, where houses rose like rocks in neat patterns in tight canyons of structures built by people not nature's forces. The Inn he found by its sign more than anything and checked his Seax and the scale folk pushed the door open and slid in deliberately making a noise as he remembered most people got spooked by how silently the scale folk could slither and move outside of their simple senses… Luckily he had learned from others, those he helped, escorted and guided using the coins he possessed to purchase an ale which helped soothe the people's view a little. He knew how to at least act like one of them even if he never would and always be an outsider to these folk.

“I hear, a party seeeeeeks adventure. Deep in mountains, seek treasure yes.” He said palming a coin to the chieftain at the bar, it was a small coin but it was a gesture he had been told to make. People needed a little … lubrication he was told the word was. He did not fully understand but he knew when it worked and when he was directed to a table.

Men, winged, a long lived one. Woman, they made an odd mix and the table looked like the one he sought. His own appearance probably caused some stares, snake like, scales and an armour that was made from a dozen other nations, kinds and technologies combined into a set hand crafted by the scale folk that wore it. He had stashed some gear at his own concealed camp, deciding on a spear and so would be…overtly armed.

“My name is Vashra, you seek clan mates for adventure yes? To visit the man rocks of the past ones? To gain treasure?” He paused before taking a drink, they seemed well armed and the long lived one… they were truly hard to guess. “Two shod, winged ones seek to enter the lands of dead masters and claim gilt prize, I can help, I travel, I see many places, I help you avoid scale clan homes, seek food.” He finished and rested lower on his tail like body, the place did not really have a place to sit for his kin folk, bar perching on it in a facsimile of sitting, a gesture that looked and felt a little unnatural.

The Beast folk tilted his head and drank from his ale, that ale was … Interesting though his sense of flavour and tastes did not quite align with the human kinds and unsure what the difference would be to its makers. He swayed slightly as he waited, slightly hopeful and interested with the idea, this adventure had potentially gathered the scale of folks' sense of adventure and desire to travel beyond the borders.

@Dyelli Beybi

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Daphne

Jail

Jail Jam jamboree with the Spicey Squire.

Daphne was honestly way over being thrown at by a wall of word salad she could hardly make sense of in real time. If she sat down and worked it all out it would make sense but this man threw so many words at her so quickly her brain was melting into soup, no soup would be warm and she was feeling a distinct chill. It was cold soup.

Not a warrior? A lot of words, all the fuss between them, the church, the prophecy and such? Her mind was doing its best to process everything as she concentrated on the main threats and priorities. Daphne knew there was stuff between the two but this was stupid, why did the Prince not just tell the guards to take this guy out, he was a bloody monk not a soldier, he was a talker.

“You, you might win once, twice, but no one can beat multiple enemies. You're a man, unarmoured. Back down, we have you at least 5 to 1, armoured against you. Dying is shit, so let's not have to. Drop the sword, don t be a hero, heroes live short lives." Daphne remained on guard but tried to switch tactics and maybe hope he would be …anything more than a straight up fight. They had enough kinds of enemies outside trying to kill them alongside the weather.

Then she felt the cold dig deeper, the cold was rising and her footing was …oh for the moon goddess sake, why had the morons not pulled the bloody Prince back or the Princess.? Her footing was not moving, her foot was not bloody moving as she felt her movement crack against the ice.

Did Daphne tell them how it was, yes. The bloody idiots were the reason she was now fighting at a disadvantage and backed against a wall with a dangerous threat and they had not done the bloody jobs. “YOU. had one job, get the bloody Royal wards out of the combat zone first, by the goddess, a squire trained by a former queen's guard and know that.” Daphne tried to break the ice that had spread.

“The goddess tests me today. I just wanted to get a cute woman breakfast.” Daphne leaned down very slowly to smash the ice with the pommel of one of her blades, the ice was not strong but her speed was greatly limited by the ice, Lunarian or not, it was like glass. Speed was great but speed on ice would be more dangerous to her and others than Gadez.

Rising slowly from her crouch with a deliberate adjustment to balance and moving with a slow, sure footedness, keeping her eyes and blades on Gadez. Her eyes glittered purple and gave a slight glow in the light as her abilities ran closer to closer, having to dig much deeper and took a step back to get more distance from the accursed runes.

If I get something decent for once, and then get killed because of these sun baked morons, I'm gonna be haunting these bastards. Daphne thought scornfully. “By the blessed Moon Princess, get safe, you're very pretty i admit, but very taken, please go get a hot meal and keep warm, safe while we resolve this mess. Find lord or Lady Coswain if you have to. They have a nice room at the eye.” Daphne tried a softer angle, any Angle really, to even find an exit or sign of an exit from this mess she was dead centre of. Though she never kept her eyes off Gadez.

Really the Princess was pretty, but very much not in Daphne status and B, she liked shorter Blondes it seemed.

“You want words or swords Prince Highness? Orders?" Daphne asked as she padded softly and cracked the ice below her boots moving with a surity only a native Lunarian had.

MENTIONS
@Dezuel
@c3p-0h

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_{Interactions: Dyna, Ranni @Queen Arya, Daphne @PrinceAlexus, Gadez @Dezuel}

Operation Daytrip- A Heavenfall Story

Sir Jonathan Le Mariner - Vilkas.

He listened to the introductions and kept a close eye on the room and the people, they all seemed solid professionals and the real deal, not just the kind that had come from a back office posting looking to be a hero or would get others killed.

South Africa was a tough country and corruption aside, there was a lot of corruption. It bred them tough and tested them harder. This larger woman was definitely made of tough stuff having survived everything as a woman in Africa no less. She might not have been as technically skilled in some areas but she very likely had a skill Base that was very broad and would make a dependable member all round.

“A pleasure Miss Erika Van Statren” he said a little formally matching her use of his name, maybe he was playing with her a bit but he had to make briefings less dry. They never wore anything fun even in the comfort they had. “Thankfully my visit to your beuterful country was in a suit.” He said as he has been a diplomatic courier, somthing he was glad as fighting in Africa sucked regardless… no one was on any side and you always had to watch your own back.

He turned his head to focus on the commanders and his people, an woman and a man who seemed to be at a permanent parade status, unbending and locked, hopefully he not lock his knees and faint half way though. Plenty had made that mistakes.

The others seemed solid and professional, of by nature he guessed the senior man was from Russia, Ukraine, maybe Belarus, late cold war. The woman and a rather fearsome dog, she had her animal under strict control so he doubted she was a soft touch.

Taking the tablet he quickly typed the code in and skimmed the document, they wnated a off tbe books job. Expected. Probbly would want to add a machete or a large kukri to his gear requisitions as the terrain and foliage was likely rugged to the say the least. The history, mixed groups, military strong men, wealth, corruption amd all that was pretty much within the normal expectations.

“Mr Kenedy, sure you not used John before as a alials?” He however turned more serious as he pulled up a map and skimmed over some of the add on data. “These groups reliable, Coalition can be…shakey? Left, right tend to cross purposes.? Anyone particularly high value or off the target lists?“ the rest seemed pretty normal back ops etc, infiltrate and all that, non govement actors and all that stuff. Limited support but that was par for course for the shadow operations and paid very well because of it.

“I might have .. traveled into the unamed Stans and few groups and I… do not see eye to eye, I assume we not got a linked Islamist groups in locality?” He asked as he remembered how things on Pakistan had turned rather less well for them and his team got exposed by a intel leak thanks to a local middle man turning double agent, they had to leave the country ASAP and leave the mission to a later date and another team.

He really did not have many questions, it eas a pretty simple job and he doubted they cared how it was done long as the target was dead.

Shattered Steel - Armoured Fist. An RP about modern armoured vehicles in an alternate world- ON HIATUS

“We're gonna need a new arm set on the auto loader, can you pass mx to have that ready later?” The main gunner bent over and examined the systems that were bent back but had clear stress marks and shining bare metal where the large tool had forced it back into alignment. Command could have it waiting for them or could sit on their ass all day waiting for parts and waste a whole night doing the job.

“Copy, still good to support advance?” The commander asked as he added that to a note pad for when he found the right radio net to report for maintenance teams. The radio crackled a bit. They watched from afar as they saw tanks and vehicles rolling into town with several groups of discounts beginning to break into the outskirts to set up spotters and such matters. Long they got targets, it was fine by them.

“Gunfire ready on your calls, you got priority bar all hands calls.” The commander to the armoured group said as he leant back on his seat and scanned the 30mm sights. Nothing bar cooling fires on the thermal and no real activity they had to worry about. It was however paranoia that kept you alive and he rotated to scan for smaller light drones that the 30mm would be fine to engage at close ranges.

“you need to buy better coffee, drive all good. Ready to go on command.” Nord said as they rested in the driver's seat. Having not needed to be busy, you took breaks where you could. A camo painted Stanley cup full of coffee, acrid bitter coffee that was obviously the cheapest crop found in the landing crafts stores. By all that's … who even purchased this. The engine rumbled on stand by quieter and powering the internal AC that was doing their best to cool, but this was the middle east.

“Noted.” The commander said as they took in the calm before the next storm.

Ban the User Above You

Banned.for thy rest on 7th day.

Chronicles of Minadra

Character App

Character Description

Name: vashthishtra silent sands. “Vashra” cut down.
Species: Scale Kin Beastmen
Race/Nationality: Scale Folk Clans.
Gender: Male.
Age: 26
Languages:

Arventian
Native language is a hybrid of multiple languages and has naturally evolved in the region. Its become a evolving language of many, and somewhat less advanced, it works for the scale folk...
Loan words and small amounts from other languages but far from fluent.

Appearance:

appearance

(Feel

Serpentine typical of the Scale folk and a darkish brown fading into sand tones with stripes and patterns that break up the form instead of one solid colour. Scales are tough yet flexible and protect against natural harm at least.

A number of scars but these mostly show as paler lines of scales more than anything from a lifetime of adventures, fights and scrapes. Has tried snd got better armour since they started.

Personal Effects:

Iron tipped spear.
Seax style war knife.
Bow + arrows.
Leather armour reinforced with scraps of metal like coat of plates, chain mail, and other materials of Bronze, Iron laminar and such. Very much hand made and maintained.
Rough cloak to break up hard lines of silhouette like a gillie cloak

General survival gear.

An old amulet, metal and stone found in ruins. Silvery and unknown if ancient, dropped or just thrown away. On a rough leather cord. Could be cheap or a priceless relic. No one knows.

Background:

My Hider

Born into the beastmen clans of the morgador wastelands, Scale folk life was harsh and not all survived. Those who did often were highly skilled in survival and taught by the clan elders in unconventional warfare tactics that the reclusive Scale folk favour.

Life in the scale folk clans began early as soon as the young could slither and learned to control their bodies, born in small clutches though many broods mortality reduced due to the harsh environment of their home lands. Each male gathered a small number of female scale folk, most only one though powerful leaders had several wives and scale folk tended to mate for long term.

There young are taken with the elder and taught from a young age leaving their settlements in the ruins and valleys passing by the gates and simple defences built to mostly keep out predators. Simple walls of sturdy dammed earth and semi cut rock form the defences that exploit natural choke points in the deep ruins and valleys. The native rock and materials also help hide the settlements until one is far too close to not already have a dozen bows aimed at you from a dozen places. A typical settlement is well hidden and off main areas, they do not look for trouble and though seen are usually engaged with on their own terms. Rare people who have been allowed entry found the Scale folk naturally adapted and had no issue with working with their home instead of against it. Likely they postulated the reason the scale folk had become an entire stable offshoot of beast folk, rather than just isolated one offs.

Education is hands-on, practical and Scale folks lean heavily to this, teaching their young as they travel and adventure as guides, gathering and other tasks to sustain the clan. A clan tends to be fairly small though some larger ones exist in more prosperous areas. A dominant male and his female wives form the clan's leaders backed by the various leaders of each smaller family the clan is composed of. The size of a clan is more limited by the environment and when they exceed areas they naturally split and spread to seek new areas to sustain life in the harsh lands they live in..

Vash was born into a settlement built into the ruins of an settlement carved into ancient cliffs, it was accessed by steep slopes and cross back and a narrow valley below marked with a number of skulls placed further in as warning from an old raid attempt. Warning that trespass would not be tolerated and anyone who stayed outside the valley would be left alone. Travelers passing by would be fine, even traded with and guided, trespassing and failing to heed multiple warnings could become a lot more dangerous.

Born into a family among a clutch, he was one of 3 to survive his brood, his sisters. He joined a guide who taught him the lands from the moment he was ready, guiding a caravan of traders across and learned much in a short time. It was to learn or be taken by the desert and not ever my young scale folk returned. This harsh life and landscape is partly why their population has remained smaller compared to others and much smaller than the larger human and other kingdoms.

Vash was adventurous and always was the one slithering out past further, restless and unwilling to stay still as a snacking. In his test he traveled deep past the ancestral lands into an area of an ancient quarry, seeking out what was a new supply of materials such as high grade glass stone in order to make cutting blades. This land was dangerous and the young scale folk crept forward slowly through the dark, past beasts and even silently slew several before leaving with a sample. Bold, probably too bold but he had done it. He earned his rights as a full member of their clan.

Growing into an adult and experienced adventurer he has sated his wander lust leading people, joining and working with those seeking to explore. Though more tempered he remains confident, bold and unlike some of his kin is more open to work with and actively work in parties he finds himself in. Scale folk secrets remain secret.

Scale folk remains an odd sort even exposed to other cultures, he does not fully understand everything, and once trusted people treat them as an extension of his own small tribe in a sense. Though this also takes a side as those who break the basic rules, theft, betrayal or such are not things that can be forgiven. He sees things through his tribal moral and cultural lense.

On passing the test, to head out into the desert alone, to survive and return having learned or found something new the now adult scale folk struck out on his own, returning a portion of his earnings to his home village and bringing back valuable metal and materials from afar. Bartered in payment from those who hired his aid in navigating the wasteland and finding resources in the spartan and challenging landscape.

Drawn by a lust for adventure, they began small and sold their services to at first guide those away from the Scale folk clans but also began to lead them to more varied places and complex cases.

Soon drawn to larger adventures, they scavenged, gained better gear and began to gain and learn more languages. This led them to eventually end up with the party.

Role: Guide, local expertise and skilled in tracking etc like a ranger.
Backstory:
originally part of a former party on another quest with one of the group and acting as a local guide hired when the group approached the local tribe of Scale folk with extreme wariness. In an agreement they decided to join them and also act to direct them away from holy places and other settlements of the reclusive stable beast men race.

They soon upgraded their gear using Scale folk pragmatism and adaptations to embrace metal, using salvaged armour parts to reinforce their own native design they used to..

Learning and picking up gear over time, languages and skills as they adventure. Though they did not be fully trusted by some they have never led the party wrong or took them into lethal danger without warning of unavoidable need.

Joining this party because they want adventure loot and have no other real thing to do right now.

Character Intro:

My Hider

“Soo. This is real, you want me. This is no trick?” The scale folk leaned back resting a hand on a spear that they had been using to find off an ill timed arrival of a few wild dogs and now the dogs had come off less well. Clad in home made leather armour augmented over time with various materials, a long tail swept out behind them a trusty but worn looking iron spear stained with red slowly that would turn into brown if not cleaned up later. The Scale folk and their appearance was strange, but no stranger than the world they lived in.

“You proved yourself, scales or not, you're reliable. That matters more.” The other said frankly and did not sugar coat things, it had been odd getting used to the serpentine guide, the idea they had a dangerous bite and the sheer silence of their movement compared to a man's footsteps.

“Recover an ancient prize, you say we will be paid well, then I hold you to that.” The Scale folk nodded, bobbing their serpentine body as they did so, always moving that little bit, never perfectly still adjusting for balance. “And you bring back more tales, lands, and information about the world to your kin” The other replied selling the idea, they had worked together and hopefully could continue. Hiring a known factor was better than a fresh face.

“Agreed, I shall slither with you.” He said and nodded, yes he would slither with these into lands unknown and hopefully return to homelands and maybe even claim a clan as his own…or start one and get a few clan wives as a powerful leader. Maybe stay a famed adventurer for a time, gain wealth, maybe just for the fact that right now they had little else to do and plenty to gain on this quest.

“And we shall walk, come on, il show you the map over the ale where we are going.” leading the Scale folk to the rough looking inn they had stood outside and proceeded to be ambushed on this dark and semi maintained back road across the empires that cared little long as you had coins to pay and troubled not the established order. Just walking this road was an adventure, it removed the weak and tempered the survivors.