Templar Knight

Tear the World Down

@Sierra Roger that, I'll wait then.

Tear the World Down

@dragonmancer@BurningCold@Silver Carrot

Whenever you guys wanna collab, I'm pretty sure we're all who've gathered around the campfire at Silverwick.

Tear the World Down

@BurningCold

I have to agree with dragon, just pump the brakes slightly.

I am up for collabs though, though my time is limited mostly to after 5pm EST unless I'm otherwise here.

Tear the World Down

Dorian Vadderung

7 Days out from Silverwick, On the Road

Dorian had been jogging for the past four hours straight, his equipment and provisions clanging against his back in time with his pace. He'd been drenched with sweat at the two hour mark, now he was competing to see whether or not his forehead would become a small waterfall, or his lungs would finally give out from the exertion. Passersby along the road, if they paid him any heed, must have thought he was bearing some news of either great importance or terrible implication, in reality, it wasn't anything so pressing at all.

As the sun began to get low in the sky and the patchy clouds were turning yellow with the setting sun, a deep voice resounded in Dorian's mind.

"That's enough. You can stop for today."

Dorian stumbled to a stop alongside the path onto the grass and practically fell onto it. This elicited a somewhat bemused sigh out of his spectator.

"To think that I once could run for days without stopping or need for rest, hauling gear that would have made you tremble to even guess at its weight, and I get a dwarf of a man as my pupil who can hardly run for a quarter of a day."

Dorian was too exasperated to do anything other than think bitter thoughts, his waterskin was emptying its cool contents down his throat. By the time he caught his breath, he begged a question.

"Any tasks while I make camp?"

There was a pause as the former giant actually gave it some thought.

"No, not today, I'll instead try to teach you the rudiments of how and why one reinforces a piece of equipment, be it weapon or machine with braces of metal, though how I am to do that with no forge, no actual metal samples, and very few actual examples to show you physically and purely through word of mouth so that one as ignorant as you might understand . . . shall be my problem to solve. "

Dorian frowned and took up his axe as he walked towards a small patch of trees to begin cutting smaller ones for firewood and collecting tinder.

"You know, I'm not entirely ignorant of engineering. I worked a bunch of the stuff all my life."

The giant's voice, still calmly resolute, chided the Northman.

"Does the Cow understand the Farmer's ways simply by being in his field and being guided by him every day? Does the Child understand the Parent's ways simply by watching them? No, the cow cannot think, and the Child THINKS they know, but in truth they know no more than the average peasant knows how to rule an empire. Consequently, you don't truly know much about what you use, and until recently my vote was out on whether you were the cow or the child."

Dorian chopped into the small tree with more anger than usual.

"Says the giant who's bound to a fucking ring."

Suddenly, Dorian's left hand felt like it weighed as much as an anvil, the majority of the weight focused around his middle finger, where a large and rune-inscribed iron ring lay. He closed his hand into a fist as he struggled to hold it up under the weight and keep it from breaking his hand.

The giant's spirit within the ring, his tone still mostly unchanged, spoke again.

"You agreed to our deal back in Braldurheim. Power and knowledge in exchange for serving me, and obeying me. You think you're my match to speak as such? Do you understand that even in this state I can shatter your bones with merely a thought? That I can simply leave you and await another? I am timeless, you are nothing . . ."

The veins on Dorian's arm bulged as he struggled to keep up the stress of the giant's will imposed into the ring.

". . . But I can make you into more than any can ever be, as the unrefined ore to the Forgemaster, so shall you be to me, and craft you into a masterpiece, I shall. But you shall not disrespect me by deluding yourself into thinking you're worthy to address me in such manner, understand?"

Dorian simply nodded grimly, and the pressure and weight slowly relented and allowed him to cease clenching his fist and arm.

"Good enough. We'll speak no further until after camp is made."

And so Dorian made camp, mostly keeping his thoughts to himself as he settled into a small meal of dried venison, a biscuit, and some wild onions and carrots he'd found about, he washed the meal down with water. This had been mostly his situation since leaving the underground on foot a couple months ago, Vardun had constantly set to testing Dorian's physical abilities and giving him various training exercises in conjunction with the odd lesson if the Titan felt in the mood to do so. He'd been giving more of them lately as they drew closer towards their destination, which made Dorian curious as to whether or not he was genuinely doing better, or simply because Vardun felt he needed to do so before their arrival.

Vardun himself took spectral form upon a rock across from Dorian, the towering and gigantic figure attempting a relaxed posture in his incorporeal state. Dorian hazarded a question since dinner was mostly finished.

"You know, you've never told me why exactly we're headed to Silverwick. Never been there myself, nor why would anyone want to, its an old husk of a monument to the first war, isn't it?"

Vardun turned his attention to focus on Dorian.

"That may be a more important topic than bracing . . . You see Northman, we're going there to fulfill a destiny that was stolen from me, and many whom I considered brothers and sisters-in-arms long ago. I assume you're not so ignorant as to not know of me, or my legacy? Surely you've pieced it together by now, or have mothers ceased scaring their children with tales of the Worldbreaker, and the rest of the Shadow Legion?"

Dorian threw away the leftovers of his veg and leaned back as the small fire he'd make flickered.

"I know enough . . . So what's it matter to all this then? You and your fellows come back to re-live your old glory-days with fools like me? Finish what you started?"

The Titan shrugged.

"I don't know, all I know is that I feel something there, the place of our defeat, and I intend to get to reach it. And if I feel it, surely the others do as well. What we do shall be decided then and there and is of my concern, not yours."

"Who's to say any of your old Legionnaires are there? For all you know you could be the last."

Vardun, the Titan of the Deep smiled wickedly as he chuckled deeply.

"I doubt that, little one. Call it a Master's intuition, but we're more difficult to kill than you'd think . . . get some rest, we've still a ways to go, and I intend to make it so that you will not embarrass me anymore than you already will."

Dorian chuckled as he moved over to his furs by the fire.

"Yeah, a Northman pupil to a Giant, won't they all laugh?"

The Titan, fading away but still speaking, concluded for the night.

"Let them laugh, you may be small, but I by the time I'm done with you, they'll look upon you as they once did I, a colossus."

Dorian, still left not entirely satisfied with the discussion, drifted himself off to sleep, his exhaustion taking hold.

Present Day, Silverwick

Walking the last hike into Silverwick, the blasted wastes and ruins of the site of the end of the war that closed the First Age of the world were bleak to say the least. Dorian had hardly seen a more desolate landscape. Vardun advised Dorian as they made their approach to a flickering fire in the distance, the only sign of life for miles.

"Some of my former war-kin are more . . . vain than others. They may influence their chosen to be more forceful, but don't give in to them."

"Yes, and you're a paragon of humbleness."

Dorian winced as Vardun's ring tightened on his finger painfully before releasing.

"I am merely naturally right on many things, all come to see my way in the end. If they don't, they usually end up dead, or at least in a contest to see who's more correct in the case of the Legion. So many castles could be spared if only their masters didn't think themselves indestructible, I would always prove otherwise. Much is the same with most arguments I enter into."

"In any case how will I know who to look for?"

"You won't, but then anyone living out here is mad, or dead. More than likely anyone you meet will be chosen like you. Just keep a sharp eye and sharper mind."

To this, Dorian simply advanced in silence, approaching the fire and seeing others already arrived, quite a motley crew. A soldier-looking man looking on the older side had just walked up and was evidently asking the question that had been on Dorian's mind.

"Aye, though I wouldn't tell mine that, lest I risk a broken hand."

Tear the World Down

Dorian Vadderung

Dorian Vadderung

{{ Male || 34 }}

APPEARANCE

A Northman of average height for his kind, which is to say, shorter than compared to normal men, with brown eyes and a sizeable brown beard and hair that reaches to his shoulders. Like his kind he is stocky, but well-toned in his muscles from years of hard labour in the mines. These days, he wears a common linen shirt, cloak and pantaloons, the shirt to better cover the scars from lashings across his back.

BIOGRAPHY

Dorian Vadderung was born the son of a poor Northmen household, a family of miners who'd served the Engineer Households for generations as effectively laborers, toiling away in the mines harvesting ore to smelted and crafted into fine works of martial engineering. It was a vital task to hold to feed the vast appetites of the orders Braldurheim was expected to fill, but not so for one with dreams of ambition for it was often a thankless and far less prestigious role.

For from a young age, Dorian had always dreamed of becoming an Engineer, even though his family could not afford to send him through the Academy to get the necessary education and apprenticeship, before he could swing a swing a pickaxe he was watching the work at the immense forges and the great skill with which the artisans honed their craft, and the subsequent respect they were held in. Envy grew in his heart from a young age.

Envy which only grew as he left his household and traveled throughout the realm following the mining jobs, as his father before him had. For what began as only mild and perfectly reasonable disgruntlement eventually manifested into outright disdain for the state of affairs, which to many of the more traditional among the Northmen was grounds for reprimanding. Dorian found himself several times beneath the Bailiff's lash for disrupting the work shifts and incitement of conflict among the workers. Not that the lashings did anything but temper his resolve like steel.

As the years went on, Fate extended Dorian a very odd circumstance that would change his life forever.

At the age of 33, Dorian was on his way to a new mining operation that took his path through Braldurheim's heart, the bustling core of the Northmen's Kingdom under the mountains, and seat of many of the more Engineering Academies. The Academies were hosting a public event, a rare thing and usually one that was reserved for showing off new inventions. In this case, it was a contest of sorts. A stone pedestal had been brought out, and upon it stood a roughly carved iron ring with runes carved upon it. The contest was simple, they claimed, whoever could lift the ring up and onto one of their fingers without it breaking their hand would win it along with having their name publicly declared as the strongest Northman in Braldurheim. The trick being that despite its appearance, the ring was apparently of enormous weight and while not strictly being magically, the Engineers had become dumbfounded as to its properties, and was useless to them for any practical purpose, so they were using it as a means to create a friendly competition to raise money for some renovation of their Academy buildings.

Paying the small fee to try after witnessing numerous individuals struggle to either lift the innocuous looking ring, or breaking the finger that the even fewer managed to lift it onto, Dorian gave it a shot. He had resolved that this was a simple way to set himself apart from the crowd, finally, something that didn't require money or social standing, merely overcoming a challenge through one's strength and will. The ring may as well have weighed as much as a grindstone, but Dorian's strength was prevailing to at least lift the thing up, but before he could attempt to slip the ring onto one of his fingers, a voice as deep and resounding as if the mountains themselves had spoken to him entered his mind.

Had Dorian not been so focused on exerting his strength into lifting the ring, he'd have jumped, none of the others had indicated anything like this, nor the Engineers, and nobody else seemed to have heard it besides him. The voice stated that it had waited a long time for one such as Dorian to find its ring, and that he had scoured Dorian's mind as it had all the others for a worthy pupil. It had seen Dorian's desires to become a great master engineer and to obtain the power and respect he so envied and craved from those in superior positions to him, and expressed a kindred spirit in him, something which the voice said was lacking in so many others in conjunction with the strength to match what its own had once been. The voice made the Northman an offer, pledge itself to be its pupil, and it would grant Dorian what he desired, refusal would result in a broken hand and the loss of any such chance ever coming again, the voice assured in a calm by overwhelmingly absolute manner. Partially delirious from the exertion of strength, but fully realizing the gravity of the situation if the voice was telling the truth, Dorian seized the moment, and gave his mental assent to the voice's conditions.

The ring's weight suddenly shifted in Dorian's grasp, and came to weigh no more than a natural iron one of its kind, and slipping it onto one of his fingers, the voice intoned" I am Vardun, Titan of the Deep, known also as the World-Breaker, and former Siege-Master of the Shadow Legionnaires. And you, Dorian Vadderung, have proven yourself worthy to become my heir. The ring tightened onto his finger as if it physically shrunk, and Dorian would later find that it was impossible to remove. Regardless, there was great commotion at his success, and Dorian was publicly hailed as the strongest Northman in Braldurheim . . . not that this really amounted to much of anything besides the assurance that he'd never be wanting for manual labor jobs, but his name was spread about with both incredulity and praise in equal measure.

But there was little time for Dorian to focus on the matter, no sooner had he been handed the prize money then Vardun began giving him directions, always in his calm but firm demeanor. He commanded the Northman to pay to have a more fitting weapon than a pickaxe forged with the money, and to spend the rest on provisions, they'd be making for the road as soon as the work was done. Dorian, still unsure if Vardun was actually who he claimed to be, was struck by two things, first being a sudden shift in the weight of the ring upon his finger, and second having his head bombarded with knowledge on a blueprint of a pick hammer of precise specifications and directions to the point where he felt confident he could have made it himself, had he merely a forge, tools, and materials and despite never having made anything before. The weight relented, and with it more of Dorian's skepticism.

It took a day for everything to be prepared, and it concluded with Dorian retrieving his newly forged pick hammer. The Titan remarked how while it did not hold a candle to the raw might of the one he once wielded, it would serve for now. Once this was done, the former miner set out on the road, making his way at Vardun's direction and all the while the Titan subjected him to tests and lessons as was their bargain. And while he is at times resentful the harshness of his teacher and questions the Titan's motives, Dorian was pleased with the situation, nowhere else might he have obtained such a chance to wield such power and learn such things from any Academy, and while he didn't at the time know where the path would lead, he knew he'd never go back to slaving away his life in order to eke out his existence. He had tasted power and the chance to make his life the way he would choose to, not by the circumstances of his birth. He wanted to stand as resolute in purpose and powerful in mind and body as the Titan once did, and while the irony was not lost on either of them of the situation of a Northman attempting to emulate a giant of a man, such things did not matter so long as Dorian had the will to seek it.

SKILLS

Worker's Body

Half of lifetime spent working heavy labour in mines has given Dorian a substantial tolerance to physical exertion and strength. The fact that he is a full-blooded Northman also helps in this regard.

Heat-Forged

Another apsect of his Northman physiology, Dorian has a higher resistance to extreme temperatures.

Street-Smarts

While not having much formal education, Dorian has developed more a sense for how to deal with the more down-trodden or less-well-off in society, having lived as one for pretty much all of his life. He knows their desires and wants, and how they think.

WEAPONS

-- https://i.pinimg.com/originals/75/bd/88/75bd88ac6119887ec6e94b7d1921007e.jpg

A newly forged Braldurheim Pick Hammer. While Dorian is unskilled in combat, this would be one of the few weapons he'd be more familiar with after having used similarly heavy mining tools for much of his life.

OTHER

Tool Kit

An assortment of various tools designed for various jobs. A woodcutting axe, small saw, hammer, and flint.

Vardun, The Titan of the Deep

{{ Male }}

TOTEM

A ring of what appears to be solid iron, craved with runes upon its surface. Its actual weight far exceeds its appearance, with the Engineers of Braldurheim suspecting that it must have been made of far heavier metal than iron.

Vardun's Ring

PERSONALITY

Calm and calculating, cold and implacable as a mountain when he sets his mind to a task, Vardun casts a shadow in his un-death as tall as the one he walked in life. Far less prone to anger than some of his fellow Legionnaires, the giant of a man rarely needed to draw upon his rage for strength when his colossal power only grew upon his dark ascension. Instead he's a far more grim and absolute presence then as he is now, bringing to mind images of ironclad will and resolve, and the dark but ever-present calm of the void, saving his thunderous battle-cries to the last as he knew his presence alone inspired fear and trepidation. As the former Siege-Master of the Shadow Legion, he carried this mindset with him there, bearing the calm and terrible assurance that no defense, no matter how mighty, would stand against him forever.

He views that only one worthy of being his equal in all respects should be the heir to his power and knowledge, seeing little room for kindness or mercy in a world which had granted him little unless rightly earned through one's own will and might. Thus is his philosophy, and one which governs his relationship with Dorian as more his drill sergeant as much as his teacher.

SKILLS

Titan's Strength

Simply by wearing Vardun's Ring and being found worthy by the Titan, enormous physical strength far exceeding his appearance is conferred upon Dorian. Giving him superhuman abilities in this regard. Punches can shatter bones and render armour, trees and boulders can become his weapons, and enable him to carry enormous weapons and armor that most would struggle to lift, let alone use. This is controlled at Vardun's discretion, however, and can be removed if the Titan wants to make a point to his pupil.

Siegecraft

The Titan can pass on his extensive knowledge of war engineering to his heir, including but not limited to detailed plans and designs for various war machines, various siege tactics, advanced architectural knowledge, master engineering knowledge, and more esoteric machines, inventions, and weapons that were bestowed upon Vardun by the Gods Below. It was reputed that given enough time, the Titan could devise a way to crack even the more impregnable of material defenses.

Tear the World Down

@MegaOscarPwn On a side note, if we both get strong-men, I could see the two Legionnaires having had "friendly" rivalries in the past to who was the more powerful.

Tear the World Down

Just throwing a potential hat in the ring.

Dorian Vadderung

Dorian Vadderung

{{ Male || 34 }}

APPEARANCE

A Northman of average height for his kind, which is to say, shorter than compared to normal men, with brown eyes and a sizeable brown beard and hair that reaches to his shoulders. Like his kind he is stocky, but well-toned in his muscles from years of hard labour in the mines. These days, he wears a common linen shirt, cloak and pantaloons, the shirt to better cover the scars from lashings across his back.

BIOGRAPHY

Dorian Vadderung was born the son of a poor Northmen household, a family of miners who'd served the Engineer Households for generations as effectively laborers, toiling away in the mines harvesting ore to smelted and crafted into fine works of martial engineering. It was a vital task to hold to feed the vast appetites of the orders Braldurheim was expected to fill, but not so for one with dreams of ambition for it was often a thankless and far less prestigious role.

For from a young age, Dorian had always dreamed of becoming an Engineer, even though his family could not afford to send him through the Academy to get the necessary education and apprenticeship, before he could swing a swing a pickaxe he was watching the work at the immense forges and the great skill with which the artisans honed their craft, and the subsequent respect they were held in. Envy grew in his heart from a young age.

Envy which only grew as he left his household and traveled throughout the realm following the mining jobs, as his father before him had. For what began as only mild and perfectly reasonable disgruntlement eventually manifested into outright disdain for the state of affairs, which to many of the more traditional among the Northmen was grounds for reprimanding. Dorian found himself several times beneath the Bailiff's lash for disrupting the work shifts and incitement of conflict among the workers. Not that the lashings did anything but temper his resolve like steel.

As the years went on, Fate extended Dorian a very odd circumstance that would change his life forever.

At the age of 33, Dorian was on his way to a new mining operation that took his path through Braldurheim's heart, the bustling core of the Northmen's Kingdom under the mountains, and seat of many of the more Engineering Academies. The Academies were hosting a public event, a rare thing and usually one that was reserved for showing off new inventions. In this case, it was a contest of sorts. A stone pedestal had been brought out, and upon it stood a roughly carved iron ring with runes carved upon it. The contest was simple, they claimed, whoever could lift the ring up and onto one of their fingers without it breaking their hand would win it along with having their name publicly declared as the strongest Northman in Braldurheim. The trick being that despite its appearance, the ring was apparently of enormous weight and while not strictly being magically, the Engineers had become dumbfounded as to its properties, and was useless to them for any practical purpose, so they were using it as a means to create a friendly competition to raise money for some renovation of their Academy buildings.

Paying the small fee to try after witnessing numerous individuals struggle to either lift the innocuous looking ring, or breaking the finger that the even fewer managed to lift it onto, Dorian gave it a shot. He had resolved that this was a simple way to set himself apart from the crowd, finally, something that didn't require money or social standing, merely overcoming a challenge through one's strength and will. The ring may as well have weighed as much as a grindstone, but Dorian's strength was prevailing to at least lift the thing up, but before he could attempt to slip the ring onto one of his fingers, a voice as deep and resounding as if the mountains themselves had spoken to him entered his mind.

Had Dorian not been so focused on exerting his strength into lifting the ring, he'd have jumped, none of the others had indicated anything like this, nor the Engineers, and nobody else seemed to have heard it besides him. The voice stated that it had waited a long time for one such as Dorian to find its ring, and that he had scoured Dorian's mind as it had all the others for a worthy pupil. It had seen Dorian's desires to become a great master engineer and to obtain the power and respect he so envied and craved from those in superior positions to him, and expressed a kindred spirit in him, something which the voice said was lacking in so many others in conjunction with the strength to match what its own had once been. The voice made the Northman an offer, pledge itself to be its pupil, and it would grant Dorian what he desired, refusal would result in a broken hand and the loss of any such chance ever coming again, the voice assured in a calm by overwhelmingly absolute manner. Partially delirious from the exertion of strength, but fully realizing the gravity of the situation if the voice was telling the truth, Dorian seized the moment, and gave his mental assent to the voice's conditions.

The ring's weight suddenly shifted in Dorian's grasp, and came to weigh no more than a natural iron one of its kind, and slipping it onto one of his fingers, the voice intoned" I am Vardun, Titan of the Deep, known also as the World-Breaker, and former Siege-Master of the Shadow Legionnaires. And you, Dorian Vadderung, have proven yourself worthy to become my heir. The ring tightened onto his finger as if it physically shrunk, and Dorian would later find that it was impossible to remove. Regardless, there was great commotion at his success, and Dorian was publicly hailed as the strongest Northman in Braldurheim . . . not that this really amounted to much of anything besides the assurance that he'd never be wanting for manual labor jobs, but his name was spread about with both incredulity and praise in equal measure.

But there was little time for Dorian to focus on the matter, no sooner had he been handed the prize money then Vardun began giving him directions, always in his calm but firm demeanor. He commanded the Northman to pay to have a more fitting weapon than a pickaxe forged with the money, and to spend the rest on provisions, they'd be making for the road as soon as the work was done. Dorian, still unsure if Vardun was actually who he claimed to be, was struck by two things, first being a sudden shift in the weight of the ring upon his finger, and second having his head bombarded with knowledge on a blueprint of a pick hammer of precise specifications and directions to the point where he felt confident he could have made it himself, had he merely a forge, tools, and materials and despite never having made anything before. The weight relented, and with it more of Dorian's skepticism.

It took a day for everything to be prepared, and it concluded with Dorian retrieving his newly forged pick hammer. The Titan remarked how while it did not hold a candle to the raw might of the one he once wielded, it would serve for now. Once this was done, the former miner set out on the road, making his way at Vardun's direction and all the while the Titan subjected him to tests and lessons as was their bargain. And while he is at times resentful the harshness of his teacher and questions the Titan's motives, Dorian was pleased with the situation, nowhere else might he have obtained such a chance to wield such power and learn such things from any Academy, and while he didn't at the time know where the path would lead, he knew he'd never go back to slaving away his life in order to eke out his existence. He had tasted power and the chance to make his life the way he would choose to, not by the circumstances of his birth. He wanted to stand as resolute in purpose and powerful in mind and body as the Titan once did, and while the irony was not lost on either of them of the situation of a Northman attempting to emulate a giant of a man, such things did not matter so long as Dorian had the will to seek it.

SKILLS

Worker's Body

Half of lifetime spent working heavy labour in mines has given Dorian a substantial tolerance to physical exertion and strength. The fact that he is a full-blooded Northman also helps in this regard.

Heat-Forged

Another apsect of his Northman physiology, Dorian has a higher resistance to extreme temperatures.

Street-Smarts

While not having much formal education, Dorian has developed more a sense for how to deal with the more down-trodden or less-well-off in society, having lived as one for pretty much all of his life. He knows their desires and wants, and how they think.

WEAPONS

-- https://i.pinimg.com/originals/75/bd/88/75bd88ac6119887ec6e94b7d1921007e.jpg

A newly forged Braldurheim Pick Hammer. While Dorian is unskilled in combat, this would be one of the few weapons he'd be more familiar with after having used similarly heavy mining tools for much of his life.

OTHER

Tool Kit

An assortment of various tools designed for various jobs. A woodcutting axe, small saw, hammer, and flint.

Vardun, The Titan of the Deep

{{ Male }}

TOTEM

A ring of what appears to be solid iron, craved with runes upon its surface. Its actual weight far exceeds its appearance, with the Engineers of Braldurheim suspecting that it must have been made of far heavier metal than iron.

Vardun's Ring

PERSONALITY

Calm and calculating, cold and implacable as a mountain when he sets his mind to a task, Vardun casts a shadow in his un-death as tall as the one he walked in life. Far less prone to anger than some of his fellow Legionnaires, the giant of a man rarely needed to draw upon his rage for strength when his colossal power only grew upon his dark ascension. Instead he's a far more grim and absolute presence then as he is now, bringing to mind images of ironclad will and resolve, and the dark but ever-present calm of the void, saving his thunderous battle-cries to the last as he knew his presence alone inspired fear and trepidation. As the former Siege-Master of the Shadow Legion, he carried this mindset with him there, bearing the calm and terrible assurance that no defense, no matter how mighty, would stand against him forever.

He views that only one worthy of being his equal in all respects should be the heir to his power and knowledge, seeing little room for kindness or mercy in a world which had granted him little unless rightly earned through one's own will and might. Thus is his philosophy, and one which governs his relationship with Dorian as more his drill sergeant as much as his teacher.

SKILLS

Titan's Strength

Simply by wearing Vardun's Ring and being found worthy by the Titan, enormous physical strength far exceeding his appearance is conferred upon Dorian. Giving him superhuman abilities in this regard. Punches can shatter bones and render armour, trees and boulders can become his weapons, and enable him to carry enormous weapons and armor that most would struggle to lift, let alone use. This is controlled at Vardun's discretion, however, and can be removed if the Titan wants to make a point to his pupil.

Siegecraft

The Titan can pass on his extensive knowledge of war engineering to his heir, including but not limited to detailed plans and designs for various war machines, various siege tactics, advanced architectural knowledge, master engineering knowledge, and more esoteric machines, inventions, and weapons that were bestowed upon Vardun by the Gods Below. It was reputed that given enough time, the Titan could devise a way to crack even the more impregnable of material defenses.

@MegaOscarPwn I swear, I was not intending to copy your idea, I think it just so happened we both thought that the Legionnaires were missing a "strong-man".

City-State Nation RP, Frostpunk Theme

Good idea. And yes, things are mostly sorted out, hopefully nothing else comes up.

@twannyman@Skylar

@Sierra

I realize you're extremely busy with your own RP, one which looks interesting to me myself, this is mostly just for formality's sake.

City-State Nation RP, Frostpunk Theme

Apologies to everyone for my absence, between a 3-day solid power outage on my end, 2 days afterwards of on and off power, and along with other matters that have kept me away from the computer, its been a little while since my response.

I'll keep this simple and just have it be one last check to see if anyone is still interested since the unexpected hiatus, if 3 people say yes, I'll get on an OOC.

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

The Ruinous Captain silently puffed his cigar as he listened to the Master, his demeanour beneath the mask as cold and indifferent as the frozen north, though he did cast a glance at the one-eyed gentleman who cast his lot in with Gideon's. More used to formalities than he was, yet carrying a grim enough demeanor to indicate that he'd seen things that would make lesser men tremble, probably a soldier or formerly. This pleased Gideon, he'd enlisted his fair share of veterans on several voyages, many came to Wolfstack to drown the horrors of campaigns in the same way many Zailors did for their more unfortunate voyages, and often many found a second calling as officers or crew under private Captains if their pensions proved inadequate or they grew tired of sitting in London. Many had seen Hell after all, quite literally, ones who had come back relatively sane and mostly whole were a commodity for people like Gideon.

But the Jackdaw was out of commission for the time being, and Gideon simply kept his thoughts to himself as first the former soldier, then Mr. Spices himself spoke inbetween partaking in his hookah and got to the meat of the situation. He took mild amusement from how their talk had made some of the more elevated persons in their gathering nervous of the Master's reaction, but he knew better than to let that show on his face.

They wanted a certain person found who was formerly their agent. Obviously the agent was of such character that for whatever reason the Masters couldn't just use their influence on the Constables or any of the handful of private investigators known in London to find them, then again maybe they simply hadn't bothered and wanted to make an amusing game out of this whole business? Such behaviour wasn't above the Masters, what with people guessing at their schemes.

Regardless, now the situation was a bit more clear. This wouldn't be the first person Gideon had to track down, he'd done similar jobs for The Cheery Man and his boys or the Devils of the Brass Embassy, the difference now would be that he'd actually technically be doing it on the side of the law rather than to shake down people for their material goods or their more immaterial souls that they thought they could cheat their creditors out of. Plus, the favour of a Master or two can go a long way regardless of one's standing, if they did the task to their satisfaction, of course.

His cigar burned as he took a fresh drag out of it and tapped some of the ash into a convenient ashtray, he gave a slight nod, almost to himself moreso than the Master or anyone else gathered around. He'd have to get to know many of the others, he supposed, if they truly were all to work together. He foresaw that as a . . . interesting experience. But no matter, he'd cross those bridges when he came to them.

"Alright then, one of the more clear statements I've heard all night."

He knew full well the irony of such a notion, given the situation, but he couldn't deny it.

"Consider me interested, Master."