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Character Full-Name and Titles::
Hork Toegrind
Character Race and Class::
Orc Monk
Why does your character wish to join Blackguard? If the answer is "gold", tell us why gold matters to them.:
What is 'Honour'? To the proud man it is blood; the thumping beat inside the chest, and the dripping down his sword. To the coward it is air, bandied out and wasted.
Hork is different. To him it is the plated gauntlet battering his face; the boots inside his groin. His life and failures, and those shared by the Horde that had him have given him to waste-- he cannot prove he still has worth within the ranks of tried and proven warriors.
Perhaps somewhere with less intrusive standards will offer him his chance.
Describe your character's past. Where did they grow up? How did they learn their trade? What kind of work history do they have? Whatever you think is relevant to who they are – but aim for at least 3 full lines.:
The lucky survivor of the First and Second wars, Hork's life was eaten up in war. Battle proved his teacher; a sloppy one at that. When Hellscream slew his demon and dried the rage away, the Orcs met their true selves at last-- the prowess of their people.
Toegrind found his lacking. Driven up by fury and eyes gone red with hate, he had presence on the field; now his blows were slow, and a barely pierced metal. Enough to die for Blackhand's wars, perhaps, but not enough for Thrall. The Warrior had lost his place, and this New Horde would shun him. Even the lingering taste of temper did little to restore him-- and with the Clans dissolved, the greying Orc had no new home to go to. He turned back to his drink, and the promise of Grog's kisses, for years living as he could, drunk and dirty, slowly, slowly starving.
But not all is clear in the fate of Man or Orc alike, and perhaps the unlikeliest of things can change our place among them-- when the Cataclysm struck and tore the Mists that veiled southern-shores, news spread and traveled. There were warriors; brave ones, great ones-- strong ones. Warriors who had no need of metal, fighting only with their knuckles. Warriors who shamed him; greater than he was, than he would ever be.
Then he tasted hate, and felt his body fill with iron.
Hork Toegrind knows nothing of 'mists', or the energy in bodies. He cannot hear the spirits whisper, or speak to air like it had lips. But he does have fists, and bones, and knuckles.
One day, that might just be enough.
Tell us about your character's skillset. What can they do that would be valuable to a mercenary company?:
A passing talent with his axe and increasing fervor for his fists; Hork is old, and not unused to war. Concerned by neither health nor hygiene, the Orc has use, if only as a bludgeon. His blows, though artless, are increasingly on point, and he does not fret to crunch beneath the leather of the belt. Cloth him, feed him, and walk him to the field; if nothing else, his corpse will make a hearty ram.
Orcs are, after all, notoriously thick-headed.
What are your character's feelings regarding the other Horde races?:
Dull and apathetic. Thrall's rule or Hellscream's, the Horde has given little. His body sweats and rots beneath the rusted, Western sun, and he cares little for his home. Still he is an Orc, and his bonds of blood are honour-- the Horde is still a family. Just not the one he wants.
Old enemies, old loyalties - does your character have them? Who with?:
Grog-- a savoured friend, made acquaintance by the confines of a cell. His tastes have changed since time in long interment; Black Ale is a bitter drink, and coarse against the throat. His true love is softer-- sweeter, more delicate in sense. Secretly, inwardly, he admits a taste for wine-- and the fragrant punches bathed in Elvish grape.
Finally, write a quick paragraph, describing your character doing something typical to them. (This is to help us get a feel for how you play, so make it something you might type in RP.):
Thin for an Orc; his knuckles peached and bloody, Toegrind grasps the bottle by its head. He snorts, letting his chest fill, and soften with the smell. Sickly sweet: like day old cider. He grins, and turns, and drinks. The dummy's head is on the floor-- its straw in bleeding puddles. He fingers aching, body burning up in sweat, the Orc will let rest tonight, and sleep, for once, contented.
Blackguard deals with mature themes and content. Please confirm you, the player, are over 18.:
Yes
Why do you wish to join Blackguard?:
Fun and community. A home for a character I should struggle otherwise to house.
Tell us a bit about yourself. Hobbies, job, talents, accomplishments, whatever you're comfortable sharing.:
I am a Pre-honours ('til September) Honours student studying Comaprative and Classical literature, (as well as all those slightly tacky bits they put beside the epics. 'History', I think they call them.*) My hobbies are this, a slight predilection for plush-dolls and as much reading as my eyes will handle. As I presume of everyone, I hope to be a writer, and am working through the Summer months to finish an anthology**.
*I do joke, the histories are fantastic fun and rife with gore to-boot.
**If you think it's going to be tepid crap you may have a future in professional prognostication.
Tell us about your background in roleplay.:
An old and lasting member of the <Darkspear Tribe> my heart belongs to Trolls. Nevertheless, I appreciate the lesser-- slower races that share the planet's crust, and have at times extended myself to other groups and guilds.
One vital note is that, given University and such ravages of time-- as well as my standing, present duties on server and beyond, I do not expect to be the most active member; I cannot promise all too much at all, perhaps only a few hours every week. If this should prove too little, and makes me undesirable, I do quite understand, and apologise for having wasted your time by putting this right up at the end.
... In my defence there's not really anywhere sooner for it.
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