Avatar of Verdaux

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6 yrs ago
Current Oh Christ it's Christmas.
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6 yrs ago
Finals! Finals? Finals... *drools*
1 like
7 yrs ago
Dippling crepression? Posteo-orosis?
2 likes
7 yrs ago
The definition of insanity? Finals.
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7 yrs ago
When your crush takes months to get over their own, but they only give you three days to go back to the friend zone. MLK Jr. help me.
3 likes

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Kahl sheathes his blade, and shoves and kicks his way through a swarm of smaller goblins and hobgoblins to get closer to Gorman. A careful glance gleaned Kahl a short description of his warlord to-be : older and weaker. But both of these brought wisdom and caution, much needed qualities that helped him get past the brute strength of the Orcs. If he was going to be able to maximize his own performance in the field, he needed a leader that could see the way he saw, or else he'd be working under a banner only in name.

He doesn't verbalize his allegiance, though; after all, the much larger Orc had chosen him. Bragging would only bring suffering far earlier than needed.
Open.


Kahl's eyes took in the dim amber haze that barely lighted what little could be seen inside the tent : warm, tangled bodies; torn blankets and clothes; weapons and armor haphazardly slung across and around the tired mess. This was how orcs slept, if and when they grew sibling bonds. Martial life often forebode against any closeness, but in Kahl's case...well, the new generation of Orcs were privileged to be together like this for one more night. Tohrban, his eldest brother, was the only exception. Even if he was almost double the size of his siblings, the Orc's want for personal space meant that he often slept in the corner and alone.

Kahl, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to be in his bunk with the rest of his warband. He had stolen himself away in the doldrums of a dying feast to lie to himself a night more that he wasn't a mere Hobgoblin, that he would never fight alongside his brethren. He would be on a different front, on a different field, under a different master.

At least they'd be fighting the same enemy.

Kahl poked his head out of the tent, and strained his ears to hear the sounds of a gentle breeze -- an uncommon phenomenon in the usually-harsh Fellmore. He should be early enough to return to his proper fold before anyone noticed, so Kahl quickly and quietly picked up his articles before stepping over the rest of the Orc's bodies. He was one of the stealthiest of his brood, in spite of being much larger than his Hobgoblin kin; Kahl would like to keep it that way.

By the time he reached the tents, several groups of goblins, kobolds, and bugbears were already packing up. The Warlock would be speaking once everyone was ready, and Kahl was prepared well in advance for this. His own rig of supplies, weapons, and armor were all waiting for him inside the tent.



After the speech, Kahl raised his sword high in the sky. Usually made for Orcs, it was comfortably balanced and heavy in the Hob's hands. He couldn't speak for his smaller compatriots in his chosen warband, but he couldn't help but wonder :

Who would be leading him into battle?
@Delta44

OH HEY DELTA NICE SEEING THE CYS CREW BACK TOGETHER (ish)


No picture as of yet; may make my own if it comes to it.


No picture as of yet; may make my own if it comes to it.
@Thinslayer

What kinds of pictures would be acceptable?
I even got it done by the weekend(ish) D:
Currently writing this on a buggy device; will revise later.

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