Just a few things before starting:
- Those of you who submitted a character, if you do vote, please vote for a character other than your own.
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- Anyone can vote, so please, feel free to do so.
- This thread will stay open for a week, at which point it will close and the week's winner chosen.
Name: Exis Bronchile (''Ex-is" "Brawn-Kyle")
Other Names: Magus Oramantum
Physical Age: Thirty-Six
Mental Age: Forty-Two
Rigorous and stern. His voice was one that could reach many of his fellow man. Having seen his share of crusades and experiencing war and the release of rebelion its balanced his tenacity. Fierce in combat, vicious in his endeavors as his tongue carries the same amount of pride as his heart does. With his soul burning to fuel his ambition and motivation to commence battle he shuns only the weak-minded. One cannot simply confront him without vim and vigor, or even the stomach to hold their alcohol!
********. Adorning a tall height of six feet and four inches in height, seen amongst his peers and kinsmen as a giant. A rugged exterior, bearing the natural hair color of a brunette. His hair is rough, but well kept into a moderate cute. A rugged face, with a full beard, trimmed into something of a circular appearance. He weighs in at about two hundred pounds. Overall with a build that is well kept and adequately muscular, more than likely due to wearing additional armor.Armor:
Clad in light-weighted armor and smithed with materials to improve its durability and minimizing weight. The rounded plating is smoothed over to avoid unsightly protrusions in figure and form. The encrusted symbol of the four horsemen is gravely etched into the back of the armor. Beneath the body plating is a sturdy chain mail for additional precautions. A dimmer gray tint and smithed in the same manner as the plating armor above it.Armaments:
Exis is a man of fairly simple taste. He keeps with him an old fashioned Spatha, about half the length of his body if not shorter more so. Its double-edged appearance and weight make it light enough to be wielded single-handedly. The design is fair, none too intricate aside from its roman engravings via the blacksmith. "Death" is engraved into the fine metal. His final armament is a basic heater shield. Its flat shape, curved body, and light weight offer adequate amount of protection and ample amounts of mobility.Time Period of Existence: 1200 - 1243 A.D.
Affiliation: Holy Roman Empire
- The Fifth Crusade (1213-1221 A.D.)
- The Sixth Crusade (1228 - 1229 A.D.)
Branches snapped in their wake, as they ran through brush and thicket, passing the stumps of trees that had been felled weeks earlier. Thundering footfalls rang in the distance behind them, as the bandits scrambled, many dropping their axes as they fought for every breath, for the strength to keep going. They had heard the bell's tolling only minutes before - the peals of death.
They fled the abhorred sound, the thoom-thoom. They could hear trees behind being crushed. One of their number fell, tripping over a log, though none of them stopped to help, as they continued on, leaving him to perish.
Gellert, the one who had fallen, wept as he awaited life's end. A shining arm shot out from the thicket, yanking the lone outlaw into the woods. In the grip of the great hand easily twice the size of his body, Gellert looked into the face of the terrifying creature of legend. The guardian of the woods gnashed and spoke in its harsh, uncouth voice, tearing his hearing with its screeching cry, red coal-burning eyes leering from a perfectly chiseled metal face.
"YOU, WHO HAVE WALKED IN MY WOODS - CARVED MY TREES FROM THIS PLACE OF PEACE, EVEN DARED TO TRESPASS WITHIN THE SACRED WALLS OF THE DAWN CITY - TAKE IN HEART THAT YOUR PATHETIC, MORTAL EXISTENCE IS OVER, BY MINE HAND. MAY THE EARTH TAKE YOU BACK INTO HER EMBRACE."
The body of the pathetic mortal fell to the ground in two pieces - torso first, then the legs. Blood and flesh graced the hands of Kagám - he merely gave the gore a single glance, and continued his pursuit. Over root and twig and tree he strode, never tiring. Time trickled by, as the guardian kept on the hunt. Not moments later, he came upon the rest of the invaders.
Leaping, The Iron Hand of the Dawn came crashing down among the intruders who, though slowing down, had kept fleeing. THEY FORFEITED THEIR LIVES. Kagám's arms stretched out, grasping the nearest ones, as they suddenly stopped to look in horror, as their comrades were crushed in the powerful iron golem's hands.
Kagám spun about, churning the earth with heavy metal boots, for he never had feet. The dust blinded them, as he threw another into the air to their death. Three others died once more in his grip, and one was crushed against Kagám's shining breastplate, leaving a ruddy smear against the clean metal.
The carnage left only one of the intruders, the ever-wasting beings of flesh. The being screamed as Kagám lifted him, and tried to look away as he was brought before the great being's face.
"DO YOU KNOW OF ME, PETTY MORTAL? I AM KAGÁM, THE IRON HAND OF THE DAWN, CRAFTED BY THE MASTER HIMSELF! YOU AND THOSE WHO HAVE DIED TODAY TRESPASSED INTO MY DOMAIN, AND THUS HAVE PAID THE IRON PRICE. MAY YOUR END BE SWIFT."
Kagám crushed the last mortal as he had countless times before, squelching the being's chest with a sure thumb, the other four fingers of his right hand providing a good flat surface. The body fell limp to the ground with a thump, and the Iron Hand of the Dawn merely strode off, his thundering footfalls of thoom, thoom going steadily silent as he strode back into the forest, hearing a beautiful sound ringing off in the distance. Wordlessly, Kagám quickened his pace, and began the search for his would-be quarry.
The bell tolled its mournful peals, the wailing cry of a wretched, darkened soul.
Name: Abel Taryn*
Nicknames & Titles: Abe; The Forge of Imal
Profession: Blacksmith; Owner of Taryn Works
Even with a single glance one can tell that Abel is, pun intended, quite able; at least within his trade. He's an average height of approximately six feet with a weight around 200lbs. His size is by no means a weak or unfit fatness. Rather, Abel's figure is comprised of an astonishing build of powerful muscles owing to years of hard work and intense manual labor. Having little physical work outside of manning heavily weighted equipment, Abel's muscle is more of a bulk than a fine cut, giving his distinctly wide and broad look. His upper body has been likened to an ape or gorilla, while his lower body is said to resemble a bull-like build. A noticeably disproportionate, slightly ovular head sits atop what little neck that he has.*'
Abel's face is generally masked by various sorts of coverings. He keeps a short-trimmed but thick, black beard at his chin, which covers the space around his lips. In likeness, he keeps the hair on his head trimmed short, or otherwise shaven, to avoid incident. His eyes, a dark gray, rest a bit wide apart on his face, and have a beady look about them, though they're usually wide open due to the dim lighting in his work space. Though all too often, many of these features are veiled by a dark soot from the fires, and occasionally rust from the metalwork. Scars and burns appear upon his figure on a daily basis, and some just never go away completely.*
As one might expect, Abel is not conventionally dressed in the most elaborate of clothing. He prefers tighter fitting garments, which don't brush unwanted against the dangerous parts of his workspace. Typically the adornments are leathery in material, padded and designed to protect against the heat in the forge. A pair of gloves covering down passed the elbows, a cap over the head and face, and a pair of knee-high boots with pants bunched into them are the constant players in his ensemble of adornments. A light coat or vest is worn as necessitated by the work for the day.
Stemming from his early adolescence, Abel is a believer in the ideologies of an honest man's work. Any job worth doing is worth doing well is a code he lives by in near-extremity. He attends to every detail of everything that happens in his force and his shop, even so far as the custodial elements of the operations. When his sees a task not being performed up to par with the business' standards, he's quick to act, which can mean anything from scolding the perpetrator to rectifying the situation personally. He's quick to set aside defective products, and redo them as necessary; and he'll do so for even the smallest issues. The furthest thing from a swindler, he prices his goods reasonably, and will never short change a client or customer. He's noted for immersing himself so deeply in work that he goes momhts without sleep.
Of course, his back-breaking labors and products don't come without a sense of pride. Abel, perhaps, has an overabundance of pride in his work. Even for breaks in his work days, he will rarely, if ever, wash up before leaving shop. He's know to show up at pubs for lunch covered in coal and soot, and wreaking of the iron and fires in which he works for hours on end. He has various scars and burn wounds from years ago that he refuses to treat. On occasion, he'll squander a good finished product for his own displays. While never one to swindle or short change, he grows very aggressive when he feels that he's not being offered enough for his work, and bargain, negotiate, and even threaten his way up to a "fairer" price.
The son of a blacksmith renowned in his village, Abel was involved in the "forge" early in life. At as young an age as ten, young Abel could be seen in the attached shop, "Taryn Crafts." His tasks were somewhat minor, consisting of welcoming customers, and directing them towards the goods they desired. Throughout the day, he was charged with making the shop look presentable. As time went on, his role began to expand. At age 12, he was managing sales, and doing some minor negotiating with customers. With father as a constant guide, he created rigorous and elaborate sales and inventory records. Ultimately, at age 16, Abel was finally brought into the forge, and taught the blacksmith trade.*
Abel would work alongside his father in the forge for seven years. This was a tenure cut short when Abel was 23, the result of the untimely death of his father in the wake of an accident in the forge. His father had left explicit instructions for such an event though. Abel and his uncle Sirus split the resources and assets of the shop and forge between each other, and ran the business together. But even this would only last a year, as Abel and his uncle clashed in their business and craftsman beliefs.*
In addition, Abel had realized that the shop was beginning to see a decline in business. Resources were harder to come by in their location (amidst an inland forest), and trade in and out of the village was costly and labor-intensive. Deciding that he had had enough with his uncle, Abel, at age 24, packed what was his to take, and moved from the village. From there, he came upon a port city called "Imal" nestled in a mountainous bay. It was there that he decided to set up his new shop, "Taryn Works."
With a location at the edge of the mountains, right along the waterfront, Abel's business thrived. The mountains provided iron and other ores with which he was able to craft his products. With an active port, he was able to sell his works out for trade. Imal being a city, his work was in high demand locally as well; he was crafting weapons and armor for city guards, and even helped in the construction of the city prison by making cell bars. Through it all, his business has thrived, and Taryn Works has grown into a household name.