Sync

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

I'm here too!

(Tiny) Half could use a new belt :D

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

Towering Giant, Survival of the Fittest

---

---

Scouring the monsters was in it of itself a means of survival. Something had to reveal a weakness, their armaments were in fact ancient and it spoke heavily of their effervescent nature and talent for murder. In the middle of their chest there it laid a marvel of a gem, glistened with a strength Hafrbjǫrn had not peered in almost a lifetime. His hands cradled its form and turned it to sunlight, allowing it to reflect through its limpid surface. Perhaps this could be infused with a weapon. An alchemist or even a rune expert could detail its qualities, if not, it could make a lovely ring for someone else. Regardless, such made its way into the giant's pouch. Standing, it seemed like it was about time to proceed further into the depths of this ruin. It was unwise to continue forwards without much strength in distance combat, this was an opportunity the giant would be foolish to pass up. He pulled the quiver and bow off a snakemen that hasn't tattered it enough during their squabble. Laced still with the poison, he carefully strapped such to his waist, as he couldn't on his back due to size, adjusting the belt as well as he could, he perforated another whole with his carving knife, broke an arrow and strapped the wood upon it well enough to sustain its sturdiness on his hips. Calmly following the now, large crow of people down their desired destination. The walls still held lingering traces of history, some faded into the stone unable to disclose any tales of secrets rites or passages of these places.

Hafrbjǫrn had a looming sense of dread pestering him. Although he had been assigned to protect Garrett something about everything of this screamed dangers. Though their trek seemed endless and they have not met even a single sneakmen, but a myriad of bodies and corpses was enough to bellow that whatever was here was not keen on letting its secrets known. Hafrbjǫrn however wore his silence like a piece of fine tempered armor. It was not his place to speak, but follow. Their feet continued and continued what seemed to be an endless path through this place. Hafrbjǫrn couldn't tell how far or deep their were underground or above ground anymore. The present smell of dust, mold and death surrounded them in an embrace before they made it to the end, with more dead men at their feet, but what Hafrbjǫrn had captured as to be this party's leader spoke about their tardiness of arrival to save these men. Hafrbjǫrn crossed armed heard what he had to say, and one of the younger ones decided to voice his discontent on the idea of leaving. Another young warrior clad in foreign armor. Not a whisker in sight and jet-dark hair which naturally flowed down to his shoulders.

Next was a young woman, hair shorter than the man who spoke, her set of armor strangely resembling that of a rouge, yet there was far too much clad involved to be anything of the sort. These two have been talking quite regularly, but that had to be expected of the seams when traveling with comrades. She too, seemed to have agreed to proceed. Hafrbjǫrn on the other hand felt it wiser to leave before the terms turned for the worst. The greed of men fashioned many forms, one of them in the selfless cloth of aid. To help those that perhaps do not need the help is in itself a form of greed. A need to satiate a hole upon their center, something Hafrbjǫrn couldn't agree with. But then he peered on himself, certainly continuing this journey for a couple Soverns was in itself greedy. Another one spoke however this did not seem as young as the previous one. Her weapon, ah what an intricate craft indeed. It is not something Hafrbjǫrn had the luxury to assemble quite yet. It was a marvel to behold, but his mien did not disclose this. If perhaps he would be a better conversationalist he would've praised such craftsmanship, however all that was handed was a quick glance. Now, what to do?

Hafrbjǫrn wanted to turn, perhaps this was it. This was the end for his journey with these people who seemed banked on their own interests. No, not that, there is some altruism behind this. Something that might herald a benefit for passerby's. However, any who venture this far into the area certainly does not expect to find anything that is not treasure. Bandits were ones who captured them and held them prisoners. This place reeked of unsavory deceit. Yet, the giant merely remained silent.

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

Towering Giant, Survival of the Fittest

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---

And with that, the battle had quelled as swiftly as they arrived. The giant felt relieved, not more bloodshed had to daunt on his blade and he could cast away worry if only but momentarily. Putting his axe away, Hafrbjǫrn eyes trailed to the source of the voice that called upon his attention. Indeed, he needn't speak on the behalf of that he merely ran an errand for a man needing protection. Garrett would secure levity in such conversation, as for this giant he would remain wordless. Scanning however, those whom wore naught protection over their skulls and adorn only trinkets instead of steal caught set giants attention. They were young, much younger than what Hafrbjǫrn was accustomed to travel with. Though perhaps their talent flourished in their respective areas, like the seeds in summer's time, some of these had still hadn't shed the green of their eyes. Among such inexperience there underlay a certainty of prowess. After witnessing what course this battle took he could not question their ability, however, he could question coordination. Some were injured, and another he thought he witnessing in pain. Yet no discernible injury could be demonstrated from where he stood. They gowned a peculiar brand on their arms, Blood Rose Irregulars. That staved away some sense of curiosity, they were warrior of their own caliber, perhaps this ambush was something they themselves could not anticipate. Hafrbjǫrn counted himself lucky, getting captured by bandits was mayhaps the most fortunate event the could've come across to. If anything, he could've been another number in the pile of corpses on the way here.

He stepped away, not a word spoken and began to see if anything of worth could be scavenged from the bodies of these creatures. The men were already at the task, but the spoils would belong to their guild if they caught whiff of their worth, if so, Hafrbjǫrn would be left with only the lingering sense of battle, with is oh so faint and fragile. And would soon leave him the next camp they make. The armor these serpent wore were nothing you'd take privy to during the time, yet craftsmanship was at a league of its own. They facilitated movement without obstructing the bent of the joints, a lather sturdy enough to be worn under the chain mail, tightening muscle enough to not restrict the bends and more over with the quality of steel they could defend efficiently to the sharpest of blade for more a duration than many other armors. Pacing his hand on their pockets, nothing of interest on this one. It held several flasks, he believed that perhaps this was the poison that they doused the tips of their arrows with. Or even the blades.

Hafrbjǫrn couldn't shake off this feeling that these ruins were home to creature of an unknown. The bandits were wholly unaware of their demise upon forming camp on these lands. Meaning, they did not privy the thought of these creature being around. That arises the question, however. Where do they spawn from? Hafrbjǫrn absentmindedly thought as he proceeded to the next body, this one being the one with the knife pierced at its neck. Ah, what accuracy, this was from that odd one that seemed to be troubled by something. Hafrbjǫrn did not proceed the thought, it was not his place and more over not something he had much interest in furthering, yet a lingering worry boiled at the peak of his thought. What would that symbolize? Did these Guild Mate-- Something caught his interest, a blade... Such wonderful craftsmanship! Although the giant's mien would not shift from its deadpan stare, he carefully visualized each individual detail from the sword, at time lifting it above his head and noting the temper from it, was this really some beast's choice? If it was such a waste! Hafrbjǫrn mayhaps should write the details he witnesses here, as to utilize at his forge later.

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

Towering Giant, Survival of the Fittest

---

---

Mayhaps his mind wondered at the stage that had been presented before him, but the giant felt as if surrounded by ants in a closed room. Many squirmed at the intervals and not much space gave the brute an opening to unleash his fullest without causing some damage to structure and ruin. But perhaps that was exactly what he needed for this situation, there was a stranger that beckoned their arrival and invited to deliver the flurry of battle hence forth to these hell spawned serpents. Garrett took first blood, displaying what capability he had as a Serim, and now it was the turn of this brute to unleash his impregnable muscle. That stranger screamed that he needed a distraction and such he would get, Hafrbjǫrn inched forward and thrashed towards the center where he would clutch the serpent warrior by it's torso, tightening grip so potently it's screech adorned silence and replaced it with agony. Lifting it above his head, a slam towards the earth was met to this creature's spine, followed a second and a third, before the attention of its companions were now at the behest of Hafrbjǫrn's might. As they charged, the giant held not quarter before delivering the body of its companion with a massive lunge, colliding with them to the point that there were met without footing, sent to the sort distance away, and fell to the earth beneath their heels as their companion that was met the brunt of Hafrbjǫrn strength struggled to keep a foot. Their blades at the ready, now three would stand at his wake. The hiss of their threats meant nothing to this giant.

As he sought the attention of them all, death was naught something he'd easily abide to. He finally could grip his mighty Axe with the grip of his right hand. Its weight would dismantle a regular knight as soon as he laid hands upon it, but this weight was just perfect for Hafrbjǫrn. He could sense the temper of the steel, the aloofness of the grip, the details of the swing. A savant in weapons in armor, it was time to demonstrate that meager skill could not overpower unrelenting might! A scream from his part, two of the Serpent men retaliated by running back, while the one who was dealt the heaviest hand could not do much other than to force himself to guard. Without a shield the effort was useless, with an overhead slash, the blade bent under his might, and the serpent knee crumbled at the impending force that was unleashed upon him. Once more he was at the ground, pulling a smaller axe, Hafrbjǫrn immediately met the monster with another swing, he was persistent. Although clearly hurt, it still struggled to keep itself alive, another overhead of his larger axe, and this creature was sent to its maker.

Immediately lifting its corpse, he prompt it in front of him, to met the pierce of the wayward arrow aim at his heart. A meat shield was as good as any steel on if the resources were available to him. The beast were everywhere, and their strength was to be admired. However, to this giant, that was but a stepping stone that he would need to overcome.

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

I'm gonna try and wait for Val to get his post up so that i can follow up. I'll probably will have it up by tonight or tomorrow at latest.

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

@Athol Haha, yeah don't worry about that man, we had to make it long enough to make sense for the narrative.

@Arthanus Yeah, it's like you said XD Had to compile the introduction, the lead up and arrival all together.

@13org Hello! Good to see ya again :D

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

Pleasure is all mines. Considering that ended up being a 17k post, I'd say it well worth our entry lol

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

Yeah Saberiii's art is pretty dope. The twitter isn't as active anymore, but its still a gateway to her work.

EDIT: Found the twitter post

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

Hider

Name: Hafrbjǫrn Ráðvarðr (Haph-BYORN - RAD-vard)
Gender: Male
Age: 42

Appearance: Hafrbjǫrn height towers on 215.3 centimeters (7 feet tall). His burly build is the result of a brute lifestyle honed through the art of melding steel and iron, fingers scrapped through the tending of the fields, arms scathed through the clashing of steel and all adorning the flesh which would provide his comrades with the finest of stories. His weight is about 330 pounds and hair of ginger which is only seen at pigment of his beard. He wears his hair bald, yet in exchange his head and arms are branded with the marking of his people. The iris of his eyes are like that of emerald in their hue that blend together nicely with the tan of his skin.

Bio: The third junior of a family of eight, Hafrbjǫrn was the first son of the town's farmer and fisher Hafþór. With two the first sibling being sisters, he was tasked with most of the work and duty as the first male, which came as a boon later in life. Quickly at his teens his stature began to flourish and his physic grew a respectable size for the expansion of the family business. Soon he took up wood working, and much later in his life he began to meld and learn the craft of the steel from the local blacksmith. As such he inevitably found himself selling and repairing weapons and armor to travelers and members of the guild. His life up until adulthood felt simple, and uninspired. The blade always seem to come naturally to him, he would forge his own axe when it came to chopping the bark he needed to feed the flames which would heat his cauldron. He would sharpen the knife to near perfection, when he decided to skin the deer. His hands were drawn to the chisel and anvil, but more over, as a blacksmith, he took it upon himself to learn the sword, the hammer, the spear and axe. If a man would fall at the hands of an animal, bandit or soldier while the blade he forged was at their hand it was because of incompetence out of his part or the soldier.

Yet he could never be knighted, that blood did not run among him. Steel was his body, and fire was his blood. He later found love and married, he had his first child who began to show interest in the guild. Reluctantly, Hafrbjǫrn forged his son his sword and armor, the finest of which he has ever developed. Such craftsmanship could impress the kings and queens of the nations. However, tragedy struck when he was brought the unfortunate news of his son's death. This tore the man, cause him a fit of rage and anger of which he has never understood. Taking the same sword which was made for his son, he went forth and killed the man responsible in a fit of rage. Hafrbjǫrn was jailed, served a hefty sentence and soon after became a shell of the man he once knew. He had an affinity for battle, his body was his armor, flesh like steel honed under years of welding and toning weapons. Someone took notice of such, and blessed him with freedom in exchange for protection. With his fine paid, Hafrbjǫrn began to work as a bodyguard, and he was splendid at it. His brutality and strength were all enough to withstand the skill of those who weren't potent enough to sustain his swing.

Eventually, he decided to join the guild, regaining a inkling of peace and serenity. This somehow reminds him of his son. He is a serene giant for the most part, yet a man of not many words.

Fighting Style: Brutal, fierce without a pause and relentless. His weapons are large like his stature and he has the potency to swing them with ferocity and speed. He's proficient with a bow and arrow and terrible with anything magic. He's the perfect example of a brute.

Equipment:

• Weapons:
  
  
  
  • Two small axes: One for each hand holstered on his side. They are made of the finest steel he could find.
  • Large Axe: His main weapon of choice. It would take the average man two hands to wield, but Hafrbjǫrn can easily wield it with one.
  • Carving knife: Although not particularly a weapon. He carries it around almost like a bad habit.
• Armor:
  
  
  
  • This one
• Misc:
  
  
  
  • Anything that comes standard while traveling.
  • Forging materials (back at base)
  • Always has a whetstone
  • Throwing Bombs
  • Small bag of soverns (100)

Skills/Abilities:

• Brute Strength
• Forging
• Weapon Savant: Anything he picks up he can use with ease, although not necessarily with a mastery of an art. As a blacksmith, he hold extensive knowledge of weaponry.
• Survivalist
• Cold Resistant: He lived majority of his life in snow, he can withstand cold weathers with much more ease than other. (Not particularly any ice spells though.)

Other Information:

Hider

1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC

Bloodrose Irregulars - After The Fall (Dark Fantasy Adventure) -=Remake=-

Hider

Name: Hafrbjǫrn Ráðvarðr (Haph-BYORN - RAD-vard)
Gender: Male
Age: 42

Appearance: Hafrbjǫrn height towers on 215.3 centimeters (7 feet tall). His burly build is the result of a brute lifestyle honed through the art of melding steel and iron, fingers scrapped through the tending of the fields, arms scathed through the clashing of steel and all adorning the flesh which would provide his comrades with the finest of stories. His weight is about 330 pounds and hair of ginger which is only seen at pigment of his beard. He wears his hair bald, yet in exchange his head and arms are branded with the marking of his people. The iris of his eyes are like that of emerald in their hue that blend together nicely with the tan of his skin.

Bio: The third junior of a family of eight, Hafrbjǫrn was the first son of the town's farmer and fisher Hafþór. With two the first sibling being sisters, he was tasked with most of the work and duty as the first male, which came as a boon later in life. Quickly at his teens his stature began to flourish and his physic grew a respectable size for the expansion of the family business. Soon he took up wood working, and much later in his life he began to meld and learn the craft of the steel from the local blacksmith. As such he inevitably found himself selling and repairing weapons and armor to travelers and members of the guild. His life up until adulthood felt simple, and uninspired. The blade always seem to come naturally to him, he would forge his own axe when it came to chopping the bark he needed to feed the flames which would heat his cauldron. He would sharpen the knife to near perfection, when he decided to skin the deer. His hands were drawn to the chisel and anvil, but more over, as a blacksmith, he took it upon himself to learn the sword, the hammer, the spear and axe. If a man would fall at the hands of an animal, bandit or soldier while the blade he forged was at their hand it was because of incompetence out of his part or the soldier.

Yet he could never be knighted, that blood did not run among him. Steel was his body, and fire was his blood. He later found love and married, he had his first child who began to show interest in the guild. Reluctantly, Hafrbjǫrn forged his son his sword and armor, the finest of which he has ever developed. Such craftsmanship could impress the kings and queens of the nations. However, tragedy struck when he was brought the unfortunate news of his son's death. This tore the man, cause him a fit of rage and anger of which he has never understood. Taking the same sword which was made for his son, he went forth and killed the man responsible in a fit of rage. Hafrbjǫrn was jailed, served a hefty sentence and soon after became a shell of the man he once knew. He had an affinity for battle, his body was his armor, flesh like steel honed under years of welding and toning weapons. Someone took notice of such, and blessed him with freedom in exchange for protection. With his fine paid, Hafrbjǫrn began to work as a bodyguard, and he was splendid at it. His brutality and strength were all enough to withstand the skill of those who weren't potent enough to sustain his swing.

Eventually, he decided to join the guild, regaining a inkling of peace and serenity. This somehow reminds him of his son. He is a serene giant for the most part, yet a man of not many words.

Fighting Style: Brutal, fierce without a pause and relentless. His weapons are large like his stature and he has the potency to swing them with ferocity and speed. He's proficient with a bow and arrow and terrible with anything magic. He's the perfect example of a brute.

Equipment:

• Weapons:
  
  • Two small axes: One for each hand holstered on his side. They are made of the finest steel he could find.
  • Large Axe: His main weapon of choice. It would take the average man two hands to wield, but Hafrbjǫrn can easily wield it with one.
  • Carving knife: Although not particularly a weapon. He carries it around almost like a bad habit.
• Armor:
  
  • This one
• Misc:
  
  • Anything that comes standard while traveling.
  • Forging materials (back at base)
  • Always has a whetstone
  • Throwing Bombs
  • Small bag of soverns (100)

Skills/Abilities:

• Brute Strength
• Forging
• Weapon Savant: Anything he picks up he can use with ease, although not necessarily with a mastery of an art. As a blacksmith, he hold extensive knowledge of weaponry.
• Survivalist
• Cold Resistant: He lived majority of his life in snow, he can withstand cold weathers with much more ease than other. (Not particularly any ice spells though.)

Other Information:

Hider

1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC