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  1. #101
    The Insane DrakeWurrum's Avatar
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    Wrong forum bro. :O
    I hope you haven't forgotten my role in this little story. I'm the leading man. You know what they say about the leading man? He never dies.

    If you give in to your impulses in this world, the price is that it changes your personality in the real world. The player and character are one and the same.

  2. #102
    Mechagnome Zeglo's Avatar
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    Thank you. I deleted the post : )

  3. #103
    The Lightbringer Rivehn's Avatar
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    I havn't really started mine but i think mine will be about a sylvari warrior trying to adapt to the world around him. Kinda plain but the possibilities are endless.

  4. #104
    The Lightbringer Glytch's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Rivehn View Post
    I havn't really started mine but i think mine will be about a sylvari warrior trying to adapt to the world around him. Kinda plain but the possibilities are endless.
    well sylvari are pretty comfortable with the world, in fact one of the unifying traits is intense curiosity. they have the knowledge but they lack experience.

    due to the dream they dont really have the need to "adapt to the world"
    The Original Ganksta

    Top 100 US daggers. yeah, you're jelly alright

    Quote Originally Posted by Durzlla View Post
    then again i'm pretty sure you're smarter then the average dumbass

  5. #105
    Scarab Lord Loaf Lord's Avatar
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    If I do make a story, and I do make a warrior, it will be a about an itinerant, thrill seeking human that distrusts his own gods and chooses not to give them worship. He will be an easily angered, misanthrope yet still has a pure conscience and possesses some compassion for those truly in need.

  6. #106
    The Insane DrakeWurrum's Avatar
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    So, I think I've come up with a decent backstory for my Charr that should help to make him much less of a stereotypical Blood Legion soldier. I hate going with stereotypes, so it's been bothering me for a while. (maybe I can soon have a proper backstory for my Norn Guardian, as he's also very stereotypical right now)
    He's probably still a stereotype of sorts, but at least he's not your typical Blood Legion Warrior!

    ----

    Grimzigar (Charr Warrior - haven't decided on surname, got some ideas) stands on the hill over-looking a Flame Legion camp, situated among the ancient ruins of some human settlement. He lifts up the rusted greatsword in his hand and rests it against one shoulder as he looks over the layout. He doesn't know why the Flame Legion are there... nor does he particularly care to know. He hasn't cared for much since his warband was slaughtered.
    He spits on the ground in disgust, the memory still all too fresh in his mind. His warband was sent out to deal with reports of Flame Legion troop movements... but was instead attacked by an Ash Legion warband. It turned out to be a trap. He didn't, and still doesn't, know the reason for the attack. All he knows is that only he survived... entirely due to luck. He'd nearly left behind his water jug and had to turn back to retrieve it... lagging behind his warband by only a few seconds. He'd caught up just in time to see his sparring partner's throat slashed open. "We were nothing but cubs, fresh from the fahrar... where was the sense of it?"

    He was about to charge in himself, hoping to save some of his friends - friends he'd trained with since the fahrar... but his legionnaire turned, noticing him, and shouted for him to run. A direct order is not to be disobeyed, every Charr knows that. And so Grimzigar ran as fast as his four limbs would move him, afraid that Ash Legion scouts were on his tail. It took him a good week to return to the Black Citadel, leaping at every shadow. "What a coward I was, to run like that... a real Charr would have disobeyed and joined in the fight anyways."
    He was intending to report the attack, hoping to reveal the traitorous betrayal to his superiors... but as he spoke with other Charr, he learned it had been reported that Flame Legion attacked his warband. What few Blood soldiers recognized him had believed he was dead, too. Even Tribune Brimstone was convinced - the evidence at the site of the slaughter, he claimed, supported the reports. He didn't have time to waste on wild claims of traitors in the ranks, without any proof - there were ghosts and Flame Legion to fight, after all. "I'll assign you to a new warband - take this chance to recover from your journey while I find one that needs some fresh blood."

    He chose then to leave the Black Citadel. Rather than attaching to a new warband, he turned gladium by choice. The Ash Legion had it out for his warband... they weren't likely to leave a job unfinished, and his own Tribune was blind to the truth. He would get vengeance for his comrades, even if nobody would help him... but that was years ago. He shook his horned head to clear his thoughts, licked his chops, and then turned his focus back to the Flame Legion camp. "Forget the past, Grim... daydreaming will get you killed. Food first."
    He'd run out of supplies weeks ago... and fresh food was scarce in this ghost-infested land, away from the Black Citadel. Even Flame Legion food was better than starving to death.

    He made his way down the steep hillside jutting up near the Flame Legion camp, approaching from their less defended flank. He'd been right in assuming they wouldn't bother to defend heavily against this side, with the uneven terrain and scattered remains of human buildings. Hopefully, this makes it easier to steal away with some supplies... perhaps even leave a few corpses behind. He moved quickly to the supply tent, trying not to attract attention, and dispatched the two guards with a few deft cuts of his rusted blade. Placing the rusted greatsword against his shoulder, he steps through the tent flaps, quickly picking out sacks of meat and grains. "So far so good. Can't carry too much, or I won't be able to get out safely."

    Before he can grab anything though, the ground underneath him shakes violently, as though a mortar blasted the ground nearby. He steps out of the tent, ears twitching, just in time to see a large black and purple crystal crash to the ground, splintering the earth several meters around it. Crystalline growths spread all around it, growing over the ground and spreading to nearby tents and livestock, as well as the corpses of the two guards he'd slain. He dived out of the way as the crystalline corruption spread over the supply tent he'd just been raiding, avoiding the touch of the crystals himself.

    He'd never seen dragon corruption before, but he knew what it was - Kralkatorrik, or at least one of his Champions. As he backed away from the tent, his shot at fresh food now gone, the two Flame Legion charr he'd just slain rose up to their feet, their flesh now infused with blackened stone, purple crystalline growths, and crackling energy, their bodies grossly distorted. "So this is what the Branded look like... I was expecting something more impressive."
    Their blazing purple eyes stared right at him, saying not a word... and quickly rushed at him with their crystal-edged claws.

    As he struggled to defend himself against the impossible strength of the two branded charr, he could hear sounds of battle elsewhere in the camp. Escaping the Flame Legion camp intact would prove difficult. He found himself losing ground to the paired assault of the branded, and then the rusted blade is knocked from his claws by a sudden lunge, forcing him to step back against a crumbling rock wall, a remnant of the humans. He dodged the next blow barely, rolling to his knees, the ground where he's just been standing exploding from the power of the blow. "So this is how it ends, is it? Not even strong enough to avenge my warband..."

    He catches movement in the corner of his eye then, as a nearby shadow seems to separate into the form of a Charr, daggers in his hands, leaping through the air to land on the branded standing nearest to Grimzigar. Shattered crystal and stone flies into the air as one of the blades pierce into the back of its neck, but it merely shrugs massive shoulders, flinging the newcomer off its back and sounding an unnatural cry of rage. Grim rolls to the side, grabbing up his blade once more in one fluid motion, as he rises back to his feet, seeing a chance to survive. He lets out a battle roar as he charges forward, swinging the rusted blade with furious might, dealing a finishing blow to the enraged branded, cleaving it nearly in half.

    The dagger-wielding Charr steps up beside him, a smug expression on his whiskered face, but doesn't say a word. An eyepatch covers his right eye. They turn then to face the second branded together, and dispatch it with little effort. The charr gestures to Grimzigar to follow, and leads the way through the camp, moving to avoid battles between Flame Legion and branded - battles that the branded seemed to be winning. In a few minutes, he's standing back on the hill he'd started on, panting heavily from their run through the camp.

    Grimzigar tightens the grip on his rusted sword, eyeing the way the other charr moves. Nimble, quick, precise... quiet. He growls low in his throat then. "You're not Flame Legion... so who are you with? Ash Legion?"
    The other Charr snorts derisively, shoving his daggers into their sheathes at his belt. "You'd place me with that cowardly lot? Only Blood is gutsy enough for my blades."
    Grimzigar relaxes then and hefts up his greatsword, bringing it to rest against his shoulder once more - his customary position. He didn't trust any of the Legions, but Ash... he despised them for what they did to his warband. At least this soldier was Blood, as it should be. "You saved my tail back there. What was a soldier of the Blood Legion doing alone in a Flame Legion camp?"
    The other Charr rubs his chin, looking back down on the embattled camp. "I was scouting their movements for my Legionnaire... seems that's pointless now. Name's Clawspur. What's your name and rank?"
    Grim shakes his head. "The name's Grimzigar, but I'm no soldier, just a gladium - warband died years ago."
    Clawspur's one good eye widens in surprise, and then his face twists into a wry smirk. "A gladium... well then you're in luck. We could use a blade like yours... even rusted like that."

    He started to shake his head - his old warband still deserved vengeance, and returning to the Black Citadel meant that the Ash Legion would know he's alive. And yet... survival on his own had proved difficult. Dealing with the branded and the Flame Legion both would only make it more difficult. Perhaps, with allies, he could get to the heart of the matter once and for all. "I am tired of running... and now I owe you my life, for what you did back there."
    Clawspur steps forward then, and claps him on his shoulder. "Good then. Welcome to the warband, Grimzigar... the sorriest lot of misfits you'll ever meet. I'll introduce ya to them all."

    As he started to follow behind, heading north west towards the Black Citadel, he found himself smiling for the first time in years. It would be good to have a family again. "Call me Grim."
    Last edited by DrakeWurrum; 2012-08-20 at 09:12 PM.
    I hope you haven't forgotten my role in this little story. I'm the leading man. You know what they say about the leading man? He never dies.

    If you give in to your impulses in this world, the price is that it changes your personality in the real world. The player and character are one and the same.

  7. #107
    Field Marshal ClimacticGaming's Avatar
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    While I love to RP from time to time unfortunately I'm not going to really create a big back story for my character. I do think some of the posts above are cool though!

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