Group 26

[Dhar'neth]

Group twenty six has been formed and is made up of the following players:

Katon Edios

Ulric Darksoul

Character Name: Tamhas Shad'ill
Character Height and Weight: 5,67ft, 143 lb.
Character Age: 200 naggarith-s winters
Other Descriptions: Male, Dark brown hair, green-yellow eyes, scar in his right shoulder (he is left-handed, although have

a bit of a training with the other hand too).
Character Class: Shade
Character Background:

Born somewhere along the black mountains, Tamhas have seen many winters since that time. He's the second born of his clan,

but as a difference between other Druchii, he've grown as friends with his brother, a charismatic (for a dark elf) natural

leader. As for Tamhas, he've grown as the intelligent of the clan. He has a better understanding of the surroundings, and

at a young age he could go hunting great beasts and return back.

Loner, quiet, agile, skillful, this are the things that characterize Tamhas.

The arts of the blade and repeater crossbow were tought to him as it was used to. He pushed himself to his limits in the

trainings, as he had to be better than him. The competition between them made them learn faster the ways of shade. While

Tamhas was better in hiding and the use of the crossbow, his brother was better in taunting and the use of the blade.

The last hunt with his clan was the last time they've been alive.

I'm not sure what exactly this means.

50 years since that incident. They where summoned to go to war once more against the false phoenix king. His clan was

shipped, and driven to Ulthuan, toward the Gryphon door. They climbed the mountians, and, as a pack of wolves, they hunted

the traitors, ambush the supply lines for the army and disrupted the mailing system, preventing orders to get to some

cohorts.

Women and children were his favorite targets, not because they where indefenced, just because it enraged the males, and

make them attack without care. Good fights does.

But something went terribly wrong. THEY where ambushed. Those traitors known as Shadow warriors disguised themselves and

enter the war-council's, they knew where they were going to attack next. Tamhas barely scaped with his borther the main

combat, but after a few hours, a couple of enemies found them. They fight hard, killing most of the traitors, and making

them flee.

But the fraight wasn't over. The spite for their kin made them persue toward the mountains again, and in an incredible

shot, Tamhas was hurt. He couldn't continue his persue, and seeked a safe place to hide and heal. Meanwhile, his brother

attacked the last remains of the party. When he was returning, a big shadow formed in his back. The sigil fly of a great

eagle wasn't heard, and Tamhas couldn't tell his brother. He only could see how the eagle lifted him up, and throwed him

from great high toward the ground.

Now, he's heading to the city, hoping his services will be required again...

CHARACTER STATS:

Weapon Skill (WS): 4
Strength (S): 3
Toughness (T): 3
Dexterity (D): 4
Intelligence (I): 4

STARTING EQUIPMENT

Short Sword, Repeater Crossbow, Shade Cloak.

STARTING SKILLS

Basic Stealth.

Character Name: Katon Edios

Character Height and Weight: 5ft 6" 154lbs

Character Age: 108

Other Descriptions: Katon has black hair resting just below his shoulders with dark blue eyes. Slender build with no

markings or scars. He is of a high fitness due to time serving within the Army.

Character Class: Warrior

Weapon Skill (WS): 4
Strength (S): 4
Toughness (T): 4
Dexterity (D): 3
Intelligence (I): 3

Equipment: Long Sword, Shield, Light Armour.

Skills: None

Born into a lower class family his farther was a unit Champion within the ranks of the Warriors posted at Naggrond. Serving

in many battles and even under the Witch Kings Banner his farther is an accomplished fighter and leader. Katon looks to

become his farther and aspires to better his father’s career path and serve under the Witch King as this farther did.

Listening to the tales his farther told him as a young child the lure of battles with impossible odds and the ecstasy of

victory and slaughter induced Katon to become obsessed with following in his fathers bloody foot steps. Katon enrolled in

the ranks of the Warriors determined that he too would be able to serve the Dark Elves and bring glory back to their

shores. Katon joined the army aged 20 and through his training he found that he favoured and excelled with a Spear over the

Repeater Crossbows, this pleased Katon as he sees fighting face to face with the enemy a more honourable way of fighting

and the way his farther fights within the stories he shares. Through his dedication to perfecting his war craft and ability

to follow orders with out question he was selected to join a regiment of Spears. After completing his training at age 25,

he was inducted into a regiment and served within it posted at Naggrond for 35 years and then at Ghrond for a further 48.

Within all this time Katon saw very little combat missing the chance to defend Ghrond against a huge Chaos Horde by a few

weeks due to travelling from his station at Naggrond. He has partaken is smaller skirmishes while at Ghrond but has no

major combat experience. His is slightly bitter that he has not once been selected to travel over seas and battle on exotic

lands, he believes his fathers higher statues within the Army has swayed the selection of the unit he is in from battle and

has be reigned to defence of the nation.

Katon as served within the army pretty much his whole life, but now he has grown tired of what he considers his above

average combat skills are going to waste. With times of war over seas being quiet and younger Dark Elves joining the army

he feels he will not surpass his farther. Katon does not want to stand guard on a wall and stop a few mindless barbarians

attacking, offence is what he seeks and has so left the army, for better or worse. Katon is now seeking to become an

adventurer and if he cannot surpass his farther then he wishes to bring home tales of his adventures instead.
He cares little of his father’s opinions of him for leaving the army and considers ties with his family cut, blaming them

for his lack of career opportunities.

Using the last of his money from serving in the army Katon is now seeking to travel between cities looking for adventures

and travels.

[Feline]

Would we use this thread for Out Of Character discussion, or is it just for the backgrounds?

[Cananatra]

Traditionaly these treads are used for OOC to keep the main thread free.

[Ulric darksoul]

ok, if it's for ooc's, then i'll say sorry for my english mistakes... i'm from Chile (as it says in my signature) and here we speak spanish

[Feline]

Huh...I thought Chile spoke Peruvian....

[Ulric darksoul]

Huh...I thought Chile spoke Peruvian....

not cool... !evil!

actually, the spanish spoken in Perú is better than Chilean, but Chile is better in everything else

as you said that, you just aloud me to say that in the US i've been told that my country is food... that doesn't speak well of US education...

well, but this it isn't to speak of our homecountries nor our home education system... so back on topic

[Cananatra]

Katon, would you mind posting your chars speech in bold? Its a bit difficult to make out thought and speech when bother are in italics.

[Katon]

Sorted as of my last post, i'll keep it the same now.

[Dhar'neth]

In the event that we don't have a post from Cananatra by Thursday, I'll have to continue. A lot of groups lose impetus after a short spurt of productiveness at the beginning, and I'd really like to avoid this.

[Katon]

OOC: Sorry about the inactivity folks, I was largely broadsided by the largely unexpected loss of two players. I'm still thinking about what to do with the rest if the story arc because if the story continues as it was, with two players, you essentially WILL die. I'm trying to figure out a way to make it work, without seeming forced and lame. I'm quite busy today and tomorrow, but expect a mod post on Tuesday. In the mean time, all I can really do is apologize for the lack of appropriate communication.

On a different note, these sorts of discussions should really be kept in the off topic forum.

Thanks,

Dhar'Neth

Ok point taken, we'll try keep OOC in here. At least our mod has not deserted us.

Has feline left as well then? I know he started Shadow Arena again but that has since fallen silent.

At any rate glad that we will be pushing on with the story.
I guess Stahl, Tamhas and Katon will have to go back to town and hire more mercenaries before we can continue.

[Dhar'neth]

I'm rustling up some new talent, and by the time the party resolves the mission, you'll have some shiney new friends to play with. In the mean time, I must ask you to be very careful about metagaming. I should not have said that you'd likely die if you continued, and you can assume that if you continue the mission, it will have been changed from what I originally intended. Normally, I would not make such metagame decisions, nor inform you of them, but the fact is that we lost two members of the group IN THE METAGAME, so I think that this is the right course of action. If retreat is what you think your characters would do, then that's what you should do, but please try not to let anything I've written affect your roleplay of your characters.

[Katon]

Arlith stepped through the brush, into sight of two humans in trees, their weapons aimed at him. What Arlith failed to notice, however, was that he had stepped into a loop of rope, disguised by fallen pine needles. One of the humans sneered at him before using his bayonnet to cut a line, jerking the rope tight, and grabbing Arlith by the leg, hanging him upside down. What followed was not pleasant for the young elf who, having dropped his weapon, was in a convenient position for the slaves to practice their marksmanship, which they seemed to derive a great deal of enjoyment from.

One of the slaves, seeing two more elves arrive to join the fray, called something out in his crude tongue, signaling his remaining comrade to beat a hasty retreat.

Stahl lies on the ground, cursing and bleeding profusely. He appears to be trying to use a turniquette to staunch the bleeding, but his strength is fading quickly, and he struggles pathetically with the knot.

Are me and Tamhas still fighting, I think we were each left at the point where we were fighting a Slave each, is their due to be an additional mod post to this or shall we try and tie on to this?

[Dhar'neth]

Whether or not you're still fighting is largely up to you at the moment. Any enemies your characters can see have just fled, and you're left with a badly wounded noble, but it's entirely possible for you to pursue the fleeing slaves.

[Katon]

OOC: Glad we are still moving forward, been posting a lot lately and come to an end, I think any more posting will encourage some metegamming. I’ll wait for a mod post now.
On a personal note I think the story will follow better if we don’t stick to the standard format of one post each then one mod post, which is what we did before. More group chatting allows a bit more creativity and Character Interaction I feel. Such as me and Ulric have just done, adds more to the experience. Just my 2 Cents.

[Dhar'neth]

Katon, I agree, so much so that it didn't occur to me that it worked otherwise. If I had meant for you folks to wait for me each time you wanted to post, I would have said so in the rules post at the beginning of the RP thread.

[Katon]

How goes the hunt for more players?

Still stuck in this forest though, we should be out in a few days I hope and get some new people to play with.

Enjoying the postings but I cant expect mod posts daily so more players would entertain me.

Just how im feeling, it’s not a dig at you or anything, just eager to see where we are going.

[Dhar'neth]

Please welcome our two newest group members

Player: Syjahel

Character Name: Syjahel Vasht

Character Height and Weight: Syjahel is around 5’ 10” tall and of roughly average weight, which is well-distributed though she is a little broader in the shoulder than some women.

Character Age: 73

Other Descriptions: With flowing long black hair, large, deep blue eyes, and ruby-red lips, Syjahel is an arresting young woman, though all the softness of her allure will not quite hide her somewhat martial demeanour. Growing up in a largely masculine household has not made Syjahel a tomboy, she knows when it is to her advantage to appear delicate, but she is also physically fit from her training which has left her with the lithe musculature of a gymnast.

Though her protected upbringing and youth have kept her skin relatively free of scars, there are a few faint paler lines marking her arms and torso, with a distinctive double trace across her left thigh. These are usually hidden by clothing. She has no tattoos, considering these to be either the mark of a lower caste Druchii or else of purely utilitarian value (enchantments, religious devotions, and suchlike) - a prejudice she may have to undo.

She usually dresses in shades of black, dark blue and purple the better to show off the paleness of her skin, with accents of red and silver. She keeps jewellery to a minimum unless she is attending a state occasion or social function that demands style over practicality. However, she loves to make up her eyes and mouth and this is often her one indulgence when travelling. She usually wears a dark cloak lined with deep crimson either swept back over her shoulders, or pulled in close if the weather is particularly cold.

Armour is light chain over a well-worn kheitan. She wears a somewhat battered helm, and carries a well-maintained longsword with a hilt in the form of a coiling dragon with small purple sapphire eyes. This is a present from her father and a minor family heirloom.

Though these items could be of some value, she cannot very well sell them without loss of face, and as she has gambled away or sold pretty much anything that she had with her of worth, Syjahel is currently rather poor and not too proud to take on paid work. It’s that or run home to father for money.

Character Class: Warrior

Character Background: Syjahel, born Syjahelle, daughter of Kherandis Vasht, a nobleman of Clar Karond, was the only girl child after the birth of seven sons. She grew up in an otherwise martial household and was quickly somewhat indulged by her father and older brothers, who thought her combination of ruthless violence and girlish femininity was rather cute (and would undoubtedly be useful to the family later). The jealousy of her younger brothers faded with the years as their own responsibility grew, and she was largely left to find her own entertainment.

Shortly after her twelfth birthday her mother Verana ran away with a Beastmaster, and in the resulting shame at failing to kill both the treacherous Lady and her traitorous lover, her father solaced himself with an extended raiding campaign in the Northern Wastes. Having already fought (and won) several honour duels over the outrageous suggestion that he failed to kill either his former wife or her lover because he is still in love with the faithless woman, Lord Kherandis’ household continue to find that this is a touchy subject. Syjahel has no real contact with her mother, but no real enmity either, since she was raised by servants in any case (like her brothers), and if questioned her response would likely be a shrug.

Lord Kherandis is an exacting father who demands high standards of his sons, but is also firmly of the belief that a great Druchii provides extensively for all of his household. None of the children has ever had to suffer material want, but his campaigning lifestyle often absents him from the family. While all of her brothers were able to follow in his footsteps here, for Syjahel it was a little more complicated. She grew up with a certain absence of parental control, fatherly indulgence and the occasional letter of advice and admonition on being a good (Druchii) girl.

All of which may explain the fact that when she reached 60, Kherandis’ cherished daughter dropped the last –le from her name for the more masculine-sounding Syjahel, ‘borrowed’ her shortest brother’s old battle-gear and insinuated herself into a summer raiding party on its way North, taking great care to make good use of night masks, shading cloaks, careful lacing and a pugnacious attitude to assist in her disguise of her gender. Everyone knew Kherandis had a lot of sons; no surprise if they couldn’t quite place which one of the brood this young lad was.

This went rather well, as she had learned how to fight and could use her natural instinct for duplicity as easily for planning an ambush as for tricking a servant. If the majority of her stratagems came from old texts rather than experience in the field, they worked, and Syjahel was on her way to earning the respect of the warband.

It didn’t last of course; it never does. The first time she was seriously wounded, the armour had to be stripped from her barely-conscious body and she knew she would be given away. Quick thinking and the promise of certain consolation not normally available in the front line ensured that her rescuer kept her secret, but she had to return home at the first break in the fighting, giving a family summons as an excuse.

With a little more mature reflection, disguise is clearly not the way to go, whatever the stories may tell you. Syjahel has decided that as the child of the great Lord Kherandis, she can hardly be expected not to fight. And of course, whereas the natural outlet of such warlike pleasures would be to sail as a Corsair, surely no loving father would allow his little girl to go to sea without a little experience of fighting under her belt? That just wouldn’t be safe. While the day will likely come when Kherandis will no longer be swayed by a combination of tricky doubletalk and girlish pouting, it hasn’t happened yet.

And so Syjahel is out looking for adventure to fill her time, whet her appetite for new experiences and provide tales of her own to tell, not exactly with her father’s blessing, but this time not in secret, either. Perhaps it will be safer that way

… perhaps not.

CHARACTER STATS:

Weapon Skill (WS): 4 - fatherly indulgence in fencing and peacetime training do not make for a perfect soldier, but she has paid attention to learning wherever she can.
Strength (S): 3 - Syjahel is a warrior despite her family wish for it to be otherwise, so she has had to make her own opportunities for training. This and her size have limited her strength.
Toughness (T): 2 - not that tough, for the same reasons.
Dexterity (D): 5 - if you can’t go for strength, she reasons, make the most of speed.
Intelligence (I): 4 - not a genius, perhaps not Sorceress material, but Syjahel is smart. She’s just a little reckless and occasionally immature.

STARTING EQUIPMENT

Warrior: Long Sword, Shield, Light Armour

STARTING SKILLS

None (Warrior)

Player: T'keela

Name: Seraphiel Wraithshroud.
Gender: Male.
Height: 6’2.
Age: 100.
Weight: 57kg.
Class: Trainee of Khaine.
Stats: WS: 4 S: 3 T: 3 D: 4 I: 4
Equipment: Short Sword and Dagger.
Skills: Two Weapon Fighting, Uncontrollable Frenzy.
Description:
As with all elves Seraphiel is of a lithe stock and values skill and dexterity over brute force. His alabaster skin is unblemished and his face is attractive with icy blue eyes. His snow white hair is casually disarrayed and combined with his skin and choice of attire give almost an ethereal appearance. Unlike most of his kin Seraphiel wears only white; hence the name Wraithshroud. He is dark and brooding, a natural loner and as such avoids the company of others when he can.

Background:
A cackle echoed down the dark streets, quickly followed by light foot steps and a frantic knocking at doors. A chorus drifted on the icy winds, a song that froze hearts and chilled blood. The figure huddled over a small bundle, desperately seeking admittance to one of the smooth, obsidian buildings that lined the street. Within the building not a soul stirred, fearful of what they may come face-to-face with on the misty streets. A hauntingly laughter reached the figures ears and even her desire for survival could not keep her blood from freezing. Turning, the mother found herself trapped against the smooth door by a voluptuous figure. The witch elf gently traced a finger across the quivering elven jaw, where her hand slipped to the base of the woman’s throat. “You run and hide? You knock and claw? You beg and barter? Yet still you stand out in the cold.”
The cold voice sent a shiver down Kethar’s spine. The cold that had numbed her mind had abated and she remembers her name at last. “I prithee bride of Murder, take this gift? Spare me? You seek my flesh and so I give it to you.” Turning Kethar bent low and numbly slid her hand under the bundle yet even as she did so cold steel pierced her breast, puncturing a lung and causing the elven mother to fall to ground with breathes coming out in nothing more than a wheeze. “I seek your flesh, I seek your fruit,” sung the witch, “I take your flesh and I take your fruit.” With a gesture she unraveled the silent baby from the bundle of clothes. The child's were closed and its alabaster skin cold and so the Maibd thought it dead when suddenly, with surprising strength it gripped a lock of her hair and held on tightly. With a screech of anger the witch placed her blade upon its neck, “Khaine take you!” But before the sword ended the baby's life, a hand began sensuously traced the witch elf’s jaw, down the nape of her neck, past her breast and circled her navel and with it, a delicate voice murmured into her ear, “Stay your hand sweet Kaerila, he fears neither your blade nor your vocation. He is Khaine’s child.”
“He may not fear me now… But soon his pretty blue eyes will know only fear.” Delicately lifting the child to her shoulder Kaerila looked to the hag, “Should he learn to fear me, his foes will learn to fear him.” Into the night disappeared that child, destined for a life greater than any normal Druchii…


Pale hands nimbly cleaned the giant obsidian statue of Khaine and within a few minutes hewed rock was soon polished smooth and sparkling unnaturally in the dim candlelight. Dropping deftly to his feet, Seraphiel spun in tight circle and drew the short sword sheathed at his left thigh to block blade that had been aimed at his jugular. “You might as well beat a drum with how loud you breathe," spat Seraphiel, "you're a fool if you think you will be an assassin”
“You’re still cleaning statues. I don’t see how you’re any better than me.” With that the two elves began a deadly dance, their years of training showing through with the precise slices and cuts that each combatant made, though neither managed to land a single hit. As the steel blades passed around his head, Seraphiel felt a tugging at the edge of his mind, a small voice called to him and time seemed to stop, before it blast back into action and Seraphiel’s attack continued. His blows rung out stronger and they came faster, dipping and weaving so that there was little more than a blur shining steel blades. Seraphiel’s opponent soon found himself on the defensive, his feet gradually starting to slide backwards at the pressure of such a ferocious attack. Suddenly Seraphiel ducked low, performing a spinning kick and taking the other elf’s feet out from under him. Before the elf had even hit the ground, Seraphiel had launched him into a wall with a second kick. Shaking his head as if in a daze Seraphiel looked to the doorway and saw Kaerila standing in the room protected by her ever present bodyguard of executioners. Kaerila chuckled as she looked towards her most promising trainee. Her berating and beatings had paid off. He was a killer, he was cold and unfeeling and he was as sharp as a sword. He was an adept of Khaine and definitely one of the best. “Tomorrow the trainee witches shall be Wed in Blood. Both of you know your duty and so do not fail in it. Killing each other is considered failing.”
Rising to his feet Seraphiel sheathed his weapons and headed towards the door located on the far side of the hall and in a low voice said to his opponent Maerik, “We’ll finish this after the ceremony.”

The drums rang out early the next morning beating a steady rhythm at which the veiled elven woman walked in time to, steadily making their way towards the vast Cauldron of Blood that sat upon a raised dais. Seraphiel leaned against the far wall watching the proceedings with little interest at least until a pale hand came to trace the disconcerting patterns of his tattoos, “Come lie with me,” spoke a soft voice. Seraphiel turned to see a young maiden with blood trickling down the side of her mouth standing behind him, her arms wide welcoming him towards her. Coldly Seraphiel looked around him and acknowledge similar sights everywhere; the male trainees were walking into the encircling arms of witches
Laughing manically as Seraphiel stepped towards her, she suddenly stopped laughing with a flinch, “You’re cold. No matter, this evening you are my plaything and I will use you as I see fit.” His hands gently trailing down her sides, Seraphiel looked into the expectant eyes of the Maibd gave in at least until there was a loud crash and blurred shape ran past him and out the door. “Get up Seraphiel .You may hate me but you still serve Khaine and by extension me.” Seraphiel followed Kaerila as she motioned towards him and beckoned him to follow her. Noxious combination of herbs and toxins greeted Seraphiel as he entered a dark room that was lit by a dim red light radiating from the corners. As he kneeled before Kaerila, she began to speak, “Seraphiel you are the Heartcarver. It is your duty to track down Maerik, and carve the Thousand Names of Murder upon the vile beasts heart.” Kaerila stood before him and with the tip of a knife cut a Rune of Khaine upon his forehead. Hate flared through Seraphiel as he felt the mutilation, though when he ran his sensitive fingers across his head he could feel nothing. Rising to his feet he glared coldly towards the hag who had raised him since he was a tiny baby and headed out into the street.

Seraphiel began his mission by leaving the depraved, bloodstained streets of Har Ganeth and began his journey towards Vikarh, the Mercenary City.

Entering Vikarh from the southern most gate Seraphiel found himself standing in a city that was nothing like what he had grown to expect from the streets of Har Ganeth. The city was ruled by mercenaries. In Har Ganeth a crime was only a crime if it went against the Temple, in Vikarh it seemed as if a crime was only a crime as long as you had enough money. The southern sector also seemed to be the seed amongst the seedy. Fleshhouses and the cheapest bars were the common place and hidden amongst them were the seediest of the seediest a place were sailors were and were sailors were hired.

Wanting to be lost in the crowd was his desire and so Seraphiel settled down and got ready to begin his life as mercenary, at least until he managed to find a lead on that scum Maerik…

[Katon]

Welcome both of you, hope you have fun with us. Look forward to reading your posts.

[Syjahel]

Thank you. I look forward to roleplaying with you all, I've been following the adventures so far

[Ulric darksoul]

Welcome to the group!!

[T'keela]

Heehee thanks guys. Hope I am up to standard. =]


T'Keela

[Ulric darksoul]

i've read a couple of posts you made in another group, and i can say is great to have writers like you

we'll see how the characters know each other soon enough, i hope

[Katon]

A rather grim and concerning leaving message….

Though I am saddened at your departure as our mod I am more saddened by the message, I hope the jumping bit was said in the heat of the moment more anything else.

[T'keela]

Agreed. I think Loki is just as confused by the message as the rest of us.

[Ulric darksoul]

I rather have gone form modding than jumping off... although sarcasm or irony aren't well read in a forum, i hope the last part of your post is just that, irony.

nice playing with you...

now, for the others, what shall we do?