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    1. Rhiven Knight 5 yrs ago

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Auric Sturmsbled





Auric resisted the urge to rub the tattoo and brand on his right shoulder as the paladin introduced himself. The hunter could feel the creep of anxiety as he did every time he encountered a devout member of the church. It was the anxiety of a man for whom the assessment was always guilty regardless of the actions he had taken or the burden he had shouldered. So it was with a suppressed kernel of anxiety that he greeted what was to come. The first note was the keening of metal rings on the metal curtain rod as the crimson curtains slowly parted creating an eerie noise. As his eyes turned to the sound, lurking beyond the window he beheld dreadful darkness, in the form of the supernatural fog now fully encircling the manse.

He watched as the servants with trepidation trod towards the yawning expanse of the window. Beyond shrouded in the thick fog was a sight to set the moral soul to wailing, a sound beyond even the eerie keening of the curtains withdrawing. Blood drained from their faces as the wail tore loose from their throats. One of the two with fingers curled like claws into his own skull collapsed to his knees, the other with strength beyond his ilk had turned to flee, he made it as far as the door. With all the strength of his kin enhanced by fear and the desire to survive he pried at the portal, but despite his enormous strength he too collapsed the door held fast as though by some fell sorcery.

As this was happening the hunter slid from his seat turning to the corner and retrieved his spear. With it gripped tight in his hands the unsettled feeling of the room, and the sheer dread at what they had witnessed began to creep through his tightly controlled emotions like rivers of ice down the back of his neck. He turned the spear and his body towards the window prepared to defend himself even if he could save none of the others. He turned his eyes returning to the window, the soul-rending wail of the two servants reverberating through the room. He took one step toward the window when like a fall into a cold lake the room plunged into darkness, and what warmth the light had offered was snuffed out replaced by cold dread.

His eyes strained in the darkness sudden as it had come, he found the lack of light stifling when from behind them, the door the orc had tried so hard to open let out a sickening creep. He turned and the dim light from beyond the portal revealed the sickening sight of a skeletal hand. The digits curled around the heavy door slowly forcing the portal open. Beyond the door, as his eyes adjusted the cowled form of a grisly evil now stood in their midst. At first, the figure hovered there shrouded in the dim suffocating darkness and a sense of madness given palpable form by the keening of the two servants. That moment could have lasted hours so distorted was the scene beyond the reasoning of man. Then the figure moved to raise one skeletal digit before its shrouded skull in a twisted mockery of the way one might shush an infant. As though bespelled the wailing became silence with all the suddenness of the earlier plunge into darkness, and like the darkness had been blinding this was deafening.

As the silence filled the space like a physical substance the two servants could be seen collapsing to the floor, they seemed to be dead, or unconscious. But that as was about to be evident was to be the least of these would-be champion's problems. A wave of fell evil darkness to seep into the spirit washed into the room as the creature waited beyond the threshold. The first thing to happen was the destruction of the symbols of the maker all around them the metal ones turned to slag, the wooden ones shattered and snapped, and the stone ones crumbled under the onslaught. But the darkness was not meant only for the maker's symbols, nay it was meant for would-be heroes as well.

As the darkness saturated their souls, it brought with it cursed images infecting their minds like a virus as words poured from the damned lips of the black figure. “A hunter whose emotions blind him, death following for each he kills.” The words echoed like some prophetic doom, as in his mind he bore witness to a lone hillock, upon which a single great oak took root, from its branches the hell borne breeze stirred, a figure wrung from the neck by a hang man's noose secured fast to the branch above. That figure bore Auric's face, but more than that the hill below him was littered with corpses, each a man or beast, all had fallen to Auric's sword, or spear, and their dead faces in skeletal grins turned up to bear witness to his fate.

Through all of this dread, anxiety and panic had crept through the young hunters slipping control, and while he was lost in that vision eerie blue light spilled from his irises. But the sight of his form hung from that tree on that hill did not instill the hunter with raw fear, for as a young man he had faced the noose for a curse far more palpable and immediate, fear resolved into cold determination a steely feeling that despite the risk he could do anything he must, and the fell light of his eyes dimmed. As the image in his mind shattered with the fear, he came back to the paladin's righteous fury burning in the room like a source of light and hope.

As his determination manifested he slid into a fighting stance edging up alongside the paladin the spear leveled at the figure for a clean thrust if it seemed appropriate. "Proclaim my doom all you want, you are not the first to try to see me into in an early grave and by my will, you won't be the last. Now I stand by Lord Locheborne, leave or face the bite of cold steel." He lacked the fiery conviction of the paladin, but he offered steel-hard determination in his own and a measure of self-control that would make lesser men question themselves. His eyes matched his tone the blue-gray of his eyes showing all the hardened determination of a man who had for many years scorned humanity and faced the wrath of nature and outlasted it.
But, but, can I get a deduction for each paragraph I wrote at least?
There we go posted. Please excuse this shameless double post.

Auric Sturmsbled





The young warrior felt his age sitting here in this carriage as the miles slipped past. He knew this country well, had been witness to events as for the last few years the country had slowly slipped into a dour mood. He had been to villages suffering under the strain of demands from the capitol. Though so far he had not yet observed the source of those demands. The hours near these strangers had thus far dampened any curiosity that the mercenary had felt towards the journey.

As the carriage approached the city however Auric was beginning to understand the tragedy growing here and to see how it had poured over into the surrounding country. An eerie mist seemed to shroud the walls of the capital city. The gloom seemed to Auric to be overbearing, however, it was more than just the fog, a palpable weight seemed to fall upon them as they entered the gates. Were his spear not packed on the upper luggage racks of the carriage he would have adjusted his grip on it subconsciously. Instead, his fingers drummed on the pommel of the sword sheathed against his right calf, the long handle bringing the pommel several inches above his knee.

It was clear the young man felt uncomfortable with the atmosphere of the city. Though, he bore a thick coat of grime on every surface of his skin you could see. You might be forgiven had you mistaken him for an outcast, a savage living out of the wilds, except, that every single piece of his gear, even his armor was cleaned, polished for metal fittings and fixtures, and otherwise in exquisite shape. As his mood grew heavier a thin shimmer began to gather in his eyes as his magic tried to feed off his mood. It wasn't that the young warrior was trying to cast or had particularly failed in some way at managing his emotions, instead, it illustrated the toll this atmosphere could take on unguarded emotions.

As the power began to gather an audible exhale could have been heard in the carriage, the only severe sound in the otherwise silent ride. It served to mark the warrior centering himself and grounding his mood, a somber look settling on his face. It was well that he had done so during the ride to the lord's manor too, for the death of the peasant to a sword in the back could have caused that power to snap unexpectedly. Instead, however, Auric looked on resigned to the fate of the man as they rolled through the gates.

Departing the carriage last, Auric retrieved the metal spear from the roof of the carriage. He then turned and took one long look back at the threshold of the manse, a sense of instinctive foreboding settling into his bones along with the well-known feeling of being watched. His eyes shifted, but from his vantage, he could find no one watching him. With a sharp turn that caused the armored leather coat to whip around him and his hood to fall away revealing his snow-white locks of hair he pushed off his back heel and hurried after the others entering only a moment behind him.

Entering the mansion did not lighten the mood or the atmosphere. Instead, as Lord Locheborne greeted them it seemed that at least some clarity might finally be within reach. That hope was soon dashed, however, as the lord seemingly frantic hurried off to some new crisis. So the guests were ushered into a dining room outfitted for the conference to come. Auric noted the curtain had been drawn, as had all the other curtains, as though their host felt at all times the uneasy sense of being watched. It gave the hunter in him pause, a moment to worry about the almost caged existence of his oft times employer.

Once they arrived in the dining room, Auric moved to a corner propping up his spear safely out of the way. It was poor manners in his experience to hold in ones hand bared steel at such a gathering. So with the spear set aside, he examined his compatriots as introductions were provided. The first of them to speak was an elder woman, an elf marked first by her size and build, but then as well by her ears, she named herself Aemma. The second to speak appeared to be a dwarf, though he would serve as the first that Auric had ever met. Another who you might call experienced in life, he provided his name as Thadurim. Turning his gaze on the last of their number, another woman, her jet black hair, and heavy tan assured him that she was from further afield. She had called herself Javiyah, and the way she spoke and commented on what might be expected of nobility might yet mark her either as one learned, or perhaps instead experienced in dealing with them.

Auric found a seat close to the corner where he had left his spear. He pulled the chair from the table and settled into it not waiting for the others. Instead, he appeared to sink into it as a lounging predator might, seemingly relaxed, but giving off the impression that he might spring like a trap at any moment. Into the long pause after the others finished speaking he decided to share his name, now that he was settled and more at his ease. "I am called Auric," a simple statement with no elaboration is all that he provided by way of introduction as he leaned back into the chair to await what was to come.
I am starting a post now, hopefully, it will be up this evening or tomorrow depending on how well the mood of writing takes me.
Well now everyone is typing away, but I might be want to see how those posts unfurl, and from them do my own post, after all, we are being corralled together.

Auric Sturmsbled



Gender:Male
Age:25
Race:Human
Profession: Auric is a blacksmith by way of trade, a mercenary by way of necessity, and a wanderer by preference.

Hopefully, my edit left my character in a more positive place by your estimation.
So is this still open to newcomers? I might be dipping my toe into a couple of different ponds to see if something is a good fit.



That is my edit, and I am sticking to it.

Edit: Hopefully I havent overdone it with the details.
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