[ooc] Forgive me if I mess up a bit, I'm new at roleplaying. Name: Glawfar Iron Fist Race: Dwarf Age: 112 Description: Glawfar Iron Fist, son of Randvar Iron Fist, took the throne after Randvar died in a mysterious elf attack. Glawfar is short and stocky, as a normal dwarf is, and has a scar from elbow to wrist on his left arm. It is unknown to how he recieved this injury. He has dark, rough skin. His left leg is weak. He always keeps a revolver hidden in his castle in the Iron Fist Mines. Background: Glawfar was born in a hut north of Tarant. He was raised among Clan Iron Fist, founded by his great-great-great grandfather. At age 60, unlike most dwarves, Glawfar traveled through Arcanum. He visited magical places, tech places, huge cities, feudal kingdoms, everything. Also unlike the normal dwarf, Glawfar researched necromantic white and black spells. His extraordinary talent in technology and magic has lead him to the top of his clan! His father was mysteriously supportive of his son's research in magic. [/ooc] On January 11th, 1891, Iwas driven out of his home in the mines. Iwas the King, but the dwarves betrayed me My friendly clan in the mines, Wheel Clan, had chased not only meut of the mines, but the entire Iron Fist Clan. Glawfar lead his people to Tarant. He then rented a building in Tarant and made a speech in front of his comrades: "The Wheel Clan has betrayed our people. We musn't take this lightly. I remember when a dwarven clan tried to attack my grandfather's people. My grandfather quickly recruited people of all races, who were willing to work with the dwarves, of course, and went to war with the clan. this is exactley what I shall do. My people, I cannot risk your lives. If I did, there may be a chance that the Wheel clan would lead to the death of our Clan. My friends and family, you must find places to live here in Tarant. Do not tell anyone you are part of my clan. Tell everyone you are simple clanless dwarves who just blew into town. I will give all of you ample gold to find homes. I will recruit people of different races, so that in case I may fall in battle, you may rebuild the Clan. Thank you. I hereby dismiss you. I will have an article made in the newspaper when it is safe." So, I went outside to the front of my building as my people were leaving, and nailed up a sign. The sign said, "Humans, gnomes, halflings, every race...come and enlist in my army and help defend my clan! Brave adventurers needed, no matter if you use technology, magic, or neither. I will appear in front of you tomorrow. Until then, go home and get some sleep. Come back tomorrow." With that, I went inside my building and got some sleep. I hoped for many adventurers to join my army and help me fight the Wheel Clan. [ooc] Tomorrow will be when the army gets big enough. [/ooc]
[ooc] Also, I will give you all good gear so that you can be at your maximum potential in the fight. [/ooc]
My first time. Name: Belgarion Telemarcus Soulguide Race: half-elf, and a little something else Age:60 Description: Plain, delicate face. Red hair and pitch-black eyes. Middle-hight and slim. Wears red robes with odd golden symbols, velvet cloak and scarlet cape. Bracelets of protection. Always holding a transparent orb in the palm of left hand. Extremely pointy ears. Musician's fingers. Background: I'll tell you little. Musician. Plays the fiddle and mandolin. Good at throwing due to strong musician fingers. Scholar. Well-versed in lore. Poet. Mage. Came to Tarant to mingle with the crowd and find suitable 'offerings'. A broad grin spread across my face. The teleportation site still worked properly. I looked around. There were people everywhere. There was hardly any space to breathe. For a moment I grew faint but recovered as I got used to the crowd. I could not wait to start trimming down on the population. *Perhaps I should start on some beggar. And then I will summon his spirit and toture him a little more. Or maybe a lost girl...* I thought. Then I saw an interesting sign. An honourable way to kill and practise my necromancy. I will return tommorow, after a few victims...
