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Eberron: The Machine of War(FULL)
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<blockquote data-quote="Temujin" data-source="post: 2251273" data-attributes="member: 18428"><p><strong>Here's my offering to the mix <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Krrathuul, half-orc barbarian</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Appearance:</strong></p><p>Standing nearly 6'5" and with a large build, Krrath leaves an impressive shadow. His body is covered in pits and gouges, scars of his childhood. He is missing two of his fingers on his left hand (pinky, ring) as well as his middle finger on his left hand (an accident involving stealing a kill from a bear). His skin is tanned, his scars leaving streaks and paths of light skin.</p><p></p><p><strong>Personality:</strong></p><p>Krrath strongly believes in the idea "might is right". Those that shy away from combat he sees as weak and destined to be his inferior. Despite this view, he can often be found helping the less unfortunate, provided they show him a little backbone or he sees that they have potential. Quick to anger when violence is involved, he is however rarely affected by jokes or taunts, and most jests fail to get any response from him but laughter.</p><p></p><p><strong>Background:</strong></p><p>Krrathuul (Krrath for short) grew up in a small village in the Droaam. A half-orc orphaned by his parents in some squalid town, one could say he had a sort of distain for life. Constantly beaten for being in the way, being a half-breed, or simply being an eyesore, he quickly learned that strength was all that mattered. He cursed his own weakness and frailty – the fault of his weak human mother no doubt. Then one day he changed. </p><p></p><p>A group of orc children, learning from the actions of their parents, decided to pick on him. Throwing rocks and beating him, he was quickly on the ground, his body already weak from hunger and repeated abuse. With wicked grins the children produced a dagger and, holding him down, began to cut off his fingers starting on his left hand. With a cut, he could feel the first finger come free as his warm blood flowed onto the ground, and he blacked out. In the void of his mind, he floated, looking over his pathetic life. Why was he so unlucky, cursed even, with such a pathetic existence? Had he been born into a strong family, not some to some human whore, he would be able to save himself. Wallowing in self-pity, he resigned himself to death by a band of children, when he heard a voice echo from the void. “You are weak because you believe you are weak.” It boomed. “You act like strength is a prize… something so easily given. If you seek true strength, then live, and find it in the waking world.” </p><p></p><p>With a start, Krrath started back to awareness, and the world appeared more vivid. He looked down as the child with the knife began on his second finger – only a second had passed. The cheers and shouts of the other children filled his ears and his blood raced. His body tensing, some of the children realized something was amiss and the one with the dagger stopped for a moment, but with a look of determination and hatred, began on the second finger. Krrath thought he was going to black out again as his vision started to fade, blackness decending on his sight. The tempo of his veins reached his ears now, and it was if everything exploded. His body became light, and his head swam as he lifted himself from the dirt. He could barely hear now over the drums in his skull, and his vision was blurred, shapes and shadows mostly. Before he realized it, the only sound in his head was his heart, and his eyes were closed. How much time had passed? He thought, as he opened his eyes to view the carnage before him. His left hand, minus two fingers, was covered in blood, and his arm looked slightly pale. His arms were cut, not deep, but more like gouges from nails and teeth. Around him lay 3 bodies, all small and all broken. Blood trailed off around the corner as the survivors escaped the slaughter. Quickly tearing fabric from the nearest body, he wrapped his hand and staggered down the road and made for the edge of the village. He hadn’t found true strength, but he had tasted it. Now, he wanted more.</p><p></p><p>Krrath despises those that remind him of how he once was, however if they show any determination and will, he will gladly help them grow beyond their frail forms in search of true strength. Though he dislikes most other races for their weaknesses (excepting dwarves and warforged, who he admires for their strength and determination) he despises orcs even more, and will not hesitate to kill one on sight. His personality is fractured and full of contradictions depending on the situation and his attitude at the time. Often he will save a person in distress (from bandits, etc.) not because he feels for them, but because it brings back memories of his past and enrages him before he realizes it. For this instability of mind, many find it hard to make friends with him, but his power in a fight often sway them the other way, provided they are nowhere near him when he goes off.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Temujin, post: 2251273, member: 18428"] [b]Here's my offering to the mix :)[/b] [B]Krrathuul, half-orc barbarian[/B] [B]Appearance:[/B] Standing nearly 6'5" and with a large build, Krrath leaves an impressive shadow. His body is covered in pits and gouges, scars of his childhood. He is missing two of his fingers on his left hand (pinky, ring) as well as his middle finger on his left hand (an accident involving stealing a kill from a bear). His skin is tanned, his scars leaving streaks and paths of light skin. [B]Personality:[/B] Krrath strongly believes in the idea "might is right". Those that shy away from combat he sees as weak and destined to be his inferior. Despite this view, he can often be found helping the less unfortunate, provided they show him a little backbone or he sees that they have potential. Quick to anger when violence is involved, he is however rarely affected by jokes or taunts, and most jests fail to get any response from him but laughter. [B]Background:[/B] Krrathuul (Krrath for short) grew up in a small village in the Droaam. A half-orc orphaned by his parents in some squalid town, one could say he had a sort of distain for life. Constantly beaten for being in the way, being a half-breed, or simply being an eyesore, he quickly learned that strength was all that mattered. He cursed his own weakness and frailty – the fault of his weak human mother no doubt. Then one day he changed. A group of orc children, learning from the actions of their parents, decided to pick on him. Throwing rocks and beating him, he was quickly on the ground, his body already weak from hunger and repeated abuse. With wicked grins the children produced a dagger and, holding him down, began to cut off his fingers starting on his left hand. With a cut, he could feel the first finger come free as his warm blood flowed onto the ground, and he blacked out. In the void of his mind, he floated, looking over his pathetic life. Why was he so unlucky, cursed even, with such a pathetic existence? Had he been born into a strong family, not some to some human whore, he would be able to save himself. Wallowing in self-pity, he resigned himself to death by a band of children, when he heard a voice echo from the void. “You are weak because you believe you are weak.” It boomed. “You act like strength is a prize… something so easily given. If you seek true strength, then live, and find it in the waking world.” With a start, Krrath started back to awareness, and the world appeared more vivid. He looked down as the child with the knife began on his second finger – only a second had passed. The cheers and shouts of the other children filled his ears and his blood raced. His body tensing, some of the children realized something was amiss and the one with the dagger stopped for a moment, but with a look of determination and hatred, began on the second finger. Krrath thought he was going to black out again as his vision started to fade, blackness decending on his sight. The tempo of his veins reached his ears now, and it was if everything exploded. His body became light, and his head swam as he lifted himself from the dirt. He could barely hear now over the drums in his skull, and his vision was blurred, shapes and shadows mostly. Before he realized it, the only sound in his head was his heart, and his eyes were closed. How much time had passed? He thought, as he opened his eyes to view the carnage before him. His left hand, minus two fingers, was covered in blood, and his arm looked slightly pale. His arms were cut, not deep, but more like gouges from nails and teeth. Around him lay 3 bodies, all small and all broken. Blood trailed off around the corner as the survivors escaped the slaughter. Quickly tearing fabric from the nearest body, he wrapped his hand and staggered down the road and made for the edge of the village. He hadn’t found true strength, but he had tasted it. Now, he wanted more. Krrath despises those that remind him of how he once was, however if they show any determination and will, he will gladly help them grow beyond their frail forms in search of true strength. Though he dislikes most other races for their weaknesses (excepting dwarves and warforged, who he admires for their strength and determination) he despises orcs even more, and will not hesitate to kill one on sight. His personality is fractured and full of contradictions depending on the situation and his attitude at the time. Often he will save a person in distress (from bandits, etc.) not because he feels for them, but because it brings back memories of his past and enrages him before he realizes it. For this instability of mind, many find it hard to make friends with him, but his power in a fight often sway them the other way, provided they are nowhere near him when he goes off. [/QUOTE]
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