@Kronshi I like the character, man. Haven't seen someone make a halfling before.
Warrior in the Shadows Member
The Unknown One
- Last Seen: 5 mos ago
- Old Guild Username: Warrior in the Shadows
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 479 (0.11 / day)
- VMs: 0
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Username history
- Warrior in the Shadows 12 yrs ago
Status
Recent Statuses
11 yrs ago
Some day, I'm probably gonna take up smoking because of my job. Or heavy drinking.
11 yrs ago
I can do better. I will do better.
1
like
11 yrs ago
Just kidding, I am going clubbing. Every. Flipping. Weekend.
3
likes
11 yrs ago
Never ever going clubbing again.
3
likes
11 yrs ago
WHEW. GOT A HOT DATE ON JULY 4TH.
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Most Recent Posts
Well fuck. Guess I shouldn't have taken on that roll.
The town air felt good at this time in the evening. It was filled with the sounds of regular night life and felt welcoming to those who lived more underworldly lives. A towering barbarian type of a man, riding in on a large draft horse, one of the few horse's fit to carry him, was one of those many drawn to a less than honorable life.
The man dismounted, dirty and sweaty from riding for so long and being out in the sun for too long. His clothes were covered in dirt, and the heat of the day had soaked his clothes in sweat. He was in desperate need of cleaning up, and so he came to the tavern to refuel and renew. Though he would need a good drink first of all.
The man's name was Hugh Van Halder. A man of many misfortunes, all leaving him alive. He was beginning to think he was cursed. This evening, however, it would appear fate would bless him.
Hugh walked boldy into the tavern, bumping into a gentleman as he walked in. He had completely forgotten his manners, and simply paid no homage to the unfortunate gentleman.
His course proved to take home to the main bar where he quickly spotted the poster with the quest on it. Noting the generous pay, he kept it in mind as he ordered up a very strong lager. "This could be good." He noted, picking up the lager and beginning to nurse it steadily. Soon, after staring at the poster long enough, he realized that the man offering the quest was in this tavern at the time, and would sit at a table a little further behind him.
He asked the bartender where he could find the man responsible for putting out the quest, and he directed him to a table further off, with only a cloaked man with a staff and a silver haired female, sitting and talking.
Without further adieu, Hugh picked up his lager and carried it over with him to the table. He paused for a moment, above the table uncertain as to when he could join the conversation. "Excuse me, are you the man who issued the quest? Could I be of service?"
The man dismounted, dirty and sweaty from riding for so long and being out in the sun for too long. His clothes were covered in dirt, and the heat of the day had soaked his clothes in sweat. He was in desperate need of cleaning up, and so he came to the tavern to refuel and renew. Though he would need a good drink first of all.
The man's name was Hugh Van Halder. A man of many misfortunes, all leaving him alive. He was beginning to think he was cursed. This evening, however, it would appear fate would bless him.
Hugh walked boldy into the tavern, bumping into a gentleman as he walked in. He had completely forgotten his manners, and simply paid no homage to the unfortunate gentleman.
His course proved to take home to the main bar where he quickly spotted the poster with the quest on it. Noting the generous pay, he kept it in mind as he ordered up a very strong lager. "This could be good." He noted, picking up the lager and beginning to nurse it steadily. Soon, after staring at the poster long enough, he realized that the man offering the quest was in this tavern at the time, and would sit at a table a little further behind him.
He asked the bartender where he could find the man responsible for putting out the quest, and he directed him to a table further off, with only a cloaked man with a staff and a silver haired female, sitting and talking.
Without further adieu, Hugh picked up his lager and carried it over with him to the table. He paused for a moment, above the table uncertain as to when he could join the conversation. "Excuse me, are you the man who issued the quest? Could I be of service?"
The lights inside the gas station were dim, and it was eerily empty. There were two employees at the desk, one bumming, and the other hard at work restocking the cigarettes. There was only one customer, and that was a very intimidating looking gentleman, known as Otis Yates. The private investigator was simply filling up two cups of coffee and grabbing a bag of peanuts, passing through.
"Will that be all?" Came the usual question from the cashier.
"Yes, thank you." Was the concise response from Otis.
He paid in cash and completed the transaction quickly, without taking his change. "Take care of yourselves, you hear?" He said, very seriously. The cashier gave a simple nod and the other employee just ignored him.
He exited, walking at a leisurely pace, and heading towards a figure all too familiar to him. It was his old friend, Schaeffer. Once just a simple contact, until he learned the man's true purpose, so long ago, when he first became a hunter.
"It's not a chai latte, or cappuccino, or any other bullshit. Just straight black, 99 cent coffee from the gas station." He held out a cup to Schaeffer. "Glad to have an ally on this shitty case." He welcomed himself to a spot on the bench, next Schaeffer and sipped away at his own cup of coffee. He breathed in the smell and took in the sight of the pretty girls, "Too many times have demons lured me in with women. I guess it is the most effective way." He mused.
"Will that be all?" Came the usual question from the cashier.
"Yes, thank you." Was the concise response from Otis.
He paid in cash and completed the transaction quickly, without taking his change. "Take care of yourselves, you hear?" He said, very seriously. The cashier gave a simple nod and the other employee just ignored him.
He exited, walking at a leisurely pace, and heading towards a figure all too familiar to him. It was his old friend, Schaeffer. Once just a simple contact, until he learned the man's true purpose, so long ago, when he first became a hunter.
"It's not a chai latte, or cappuccino, or any other bullshit. Just straight black, 99 cent coffee from the gas station." He held out a cup to Schaeffer. "Glad to have an ally on this shitty case." He welcomed himself to a spot on the bench, next Schaeffer and sipped away at his own cup of coffee. He breathed in the smell and took in the sight of the pretty girls, "Too many times have demons lured me in with women. I guess it is the most effective way." He mused.
The Dwarf. Definitely the Dwarf.
Name: Hugh Van Halder
Age: 45
Race: Human
Description:
He stands at 6'2", a tower of years of built up muscle. He wears a dark earthen blue tunic over a white linen three button pullover shirt. He wears a pair of black shorts(under his pants) and a pair of dark gray hosen(medieval style pants). He'll wear a chain mail shirt and these pauldrons
additionally he'll wear leather knee and shin armor.
He wears a small gray hood and a bear fur cloak.
Weapons: He wields a large crude looking war hammer and a falchion. Additionally, he has one small crude throwing axe.
Biography: Hugh was once part of a great order of paladins. They had much land and ruled with wisdom. Their lands were prosperous and fertile. Many were jealous of their lands, but no one had the courage enough to take on the great and Noble order. Their paladins were fierce and formidable fighters. They all stood higher than 6' and were towers of muscle. They were truly terrifying men. But they were brought down under scandal. Fabricated accusations about them stealing their riches and enslaving other groups of people for labor. The scandals kept growing until they were set upon by every surrounding nation. They stood no chance. Many were killed, only a few escaped.
They have been long since forgotten, after being hunted for almost two decades, and killed off, until it was concluded that they were finally extinct. Hugh hid among tribes of barbarians to survive. The tribe was good to him, making him one of their own. He had built a life of simplicity. Some warring between other tribes would often end with them being brutalized and then integrated. Hugh had found the love of his life among one of the taken tribes. He had a few sons and lived very happily, until they were set upon by a purge of the "savages".
Hugh's tribe was wiped out and he was orphaned once again. He had brutally killed all the "civilized" army he could, but it was too late. His tribe was all gone, along with his family.
He became a wanderer, and left to find life as a mercenary.
Demeanor/Attitude: Neutral Good. He mixes the bearing of a barbarian and a paladin. He fights like a barbarian and a demon, but talks and has the manners of a paladin.
Other: I'll add stuff as we go on.
Age: 45
Race: Human
Description:
He stands at 6'2", a tower of years of built up muscle. He wears a dark earthen blue tunic over a white linen three button pullover shirt. He wears a pair of black shorts(under his pants) and a pair of dark gray hosen(medieval style pants). He'll wear a chain mail shirt and these pauldrons
additionally he'll wear leather knee and shin armor.
He wears a small gray hood and a bear fur cloak.
Weapons: He wields a large crude looking war hammer and a falchion. Additionally, he has one small crude throwing axe.
Biography: Hugh was once part of a great order of paladins. They had much land and ruled with wisdom. Their lands were prosperous and fertile. Many were jealous of their lands, but no one had the courage enough to take on the great and Noble order. Their paladins were fierce and formidable fighters. They all stood higher than 6' and were towers of muscle. They were truly terrifying men. But they were brought down under scandal. Fabricated accusations about them stealing their riches and enslaving other groups of people for labor. The scandals kept growing until they were set upon by every surrounding nation. They stood no chance. Many were killed, only a few escaped.
They have been long since forgotten, after being hunted for almost two decades, and killed off, until it was concluded that they were finally extinct. Hugh hid among tribes of barbarians to survive. The tribe was good to him, making him one of their own. He had built a life of simplicity. Some warring between other tribes would often end with them being brutalized and then integrated. Hugh had found the love of his life among one of the taken tribes. He had a few sons and lived very happily, until they were set upon by a purge of the "savages".
Hugh's tribe was wiped out and he was orphaned once again. He had brutally killed all the "civilized" army he could, but it was too late. His tribe was all gone, along with his family.
He became a wanderer, and left to find life as a mercenary.
Demeanor/Attitude: Neutral Good. He mixes the bearing of a barbarian and a paladin. He fights like a barbarian and a demon, but talks and has the manners of a paladin.
Other: I'll add stuff as we go on.
Eastern US standard time.
You have me!
I'm impressed @Mugin.
Why do you guys keep adding Warrant officers as commanders? They don't lead shit. They are technical experts. They don't even fight (unless it's a special forces warrant officer).
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