Monkuta is a slim-figured man who stands at just under six feet. He weighs about one-hundred and forty pounds. His skin is very tan. He has very long arms and legs, his torso taking up a small portion of his overall body. Scars riddle his body as a result of much falling and sneaking around in sharp branched trees. He has long, dark brown hair that flies around in ever-chaotic strands and a short, messy beard that matches his hair in appearance. His eyes are a piercing emerald green. He could be quite attractive if he groomed his hair and wiped the dirt off of his face.
At heart, Monkuta is light-hearted and quite amiable. However, he invests himself too heavily in his work often which leads to him being instinctively suspicious and cautious no matter his surroundings. He is quick to act, often deciding to "shoot first and ask questions later." It takes a long time for him to truly relax in any setting and the slightest disruption could potentially make him tense again. Monkuta has little respect for authority, believing that trust and loyalty are always to be earned and never given.
Born into nobility, Monkuta realized at an early age how boring his life could potentially be. He yearned to go into the woods and play in the mud with other children, but his parents believed it was beneath him. As a toddler, this kept him in line but as he gre and eventually entered adolescence, Monkuta found dozens of ways of sneaking away from home into the wilderness. On each expedition into this forbidden world, Monkuta would find other children and partake in whatever rough, dirty games they might be playing. When questioned by his parents about his the condition of his clothes upon his return, he would simply say that he tripped and fell in the mud. This continued for many years until, as a boy barely into his teenage years, Monkuta finally decided that he had no reason to stay at home and left, surviving on his own in the woods and living quite happily. It took less than a day for Monkuta's parents to realize his absence. Word spread and, though he successfully evaded those searching for him for about a week, Monkuta was inevitably found and taken home--kicking and screaming--by a ranger whose identity still remains a mystery to him. Days later, Monkuta was offered membership in the Ranger's Corps, which he graciously accepted. As a young man, finished with his apprenticeship, Monkuta fell in love with a beautiful girl of his own age. He never learned her name, though they shared a bed for several months. They agreed that if they didn't know each others' names, there was no real commitment involved and they could live in secret. One night, he went to her home and she was gone, with only a necklace for him left in her place. He has since lived alone in the woods in a cabin he built himself. As a ranger, he has since become a valued spy to the Corps, stealth being his greatest virtue. His aim is also quite impressive, though he is more skilled with the throwing knife than with a bow. He often disappears into the wilderness for days at a time alone with his pony, Jaeado. He claims that he required it for his own mental well-being.
Monkuta suffers from severe intermittent depression as well as insomnia. He wears the long beaded necklace made by his secret lover beneath his tunic, though bits of it are visible around his neck. In addition to the standard ranger equipment of bow and knives, he wields homemade poison blowdarts and a long wooden pipe to launch them which can be screwed apart to carry in smaller segments.
A hulk of a man, Wesley stands at a height of near seven feet, weighing almost four-hundred pounds. Muscles bulge from every visible part of his body. He is heavily tanned. His skin is riddled with scars across his arms, legs and torso, as well as one long line traveling down the entire right side of his face. He has black eyes, said to pierce the very souls of his victims. He sport straight blond-hair, hanging down around his shoulders and a short goatee. His teeth are bright yellow and his gums are bright red.
Wesley lives for the hunt and the kill. He gets his enjoyment from watching his enemies bleed. This being said, he's not the brightest tool in the shed. He isn't much for subtlety or tact, wielding a stern belief in the brute mentality of combat. He is easily susceptible to alcohol, tobacco and other tempting substances. Despite his violent nature, Wesley can be completely genial in the right environment. He loves bars and taverns, drinking songs, drinking games and pretty much anything else that involves drinking. He is not one to take orders and tends to become quite hostile whenever someone gives him a task without saying, "please."
Wesley's mother died in child-birth, an event that caused his father to hate him from the moment he came into the world. His father always saw him as more of an animal than a son. He kept Wesley in a cage and, from the day he was able to stand on his own, used him in a series of illegal child-fight-clubs across Skandia to earn money. Wesley never minded the abuse. It was just their way of life. He never knew anything else. Because he started fighting at such a young age, Wesley became very strong and came to enjoy the violence that was his life. He never got an education, nor was he given much chance to experience affection or any other emotions, leaving him a very stupid, emotionally stunted super-hulk. Wesley rarely lost a match in the fight-clubs that his father forced him into. In his entire career, he didn't lose more than a dozen times. His reputation became quite menacing. One night, when Wesley was seventeen years old and already quite large, a man came to his cage and, trying to sabotage Wesley and his father, informed him of how he was being mistreated. He suggested that when his father let him out of the cage for the fight that night, Wesley should escape and kill his father. Wesley was furious and that night, when his father opened the cage, he grabbed his father by the head and crushed the small man's skull between his palms. He proceeded to steal a large battle axe and slaughter every person assembled for the fight-club. After acquiring some warm furs and clothing, Wesley fled into the mountains on Skandia's eastern border, living in a small hut of his own creation for nearly two years. During this time, he wrestled with the beasts of the mountains, becoming even stronger and honing his fighting abilities. He killed any hunter or traveler that was unfortunate enough to cross his path. When he felt ready, Wesley descended from the mountains and has since made his way all around the known world, marauding as an infamous bandit, hit-man, murderer and arsonist.
Wesley still wields the giant axe that he used on the night of his escape.
Llane is a tall, well-built man. He stands at slightly over six feet weighing in at near two-hundred pounds. He has pale, wrinkled skin with many burns and scars scattered across his person. He has stark white hair that seems to shoot upwards from his head. He also has a small goatee that droops from his chin. His left eye is hazel colored. He has a long, sharp nose that seems quite large in proportion to the rest of his face.
Due to his position in life, Llane is a very snobby man. He often looks down upon people and conducts himself as if he were a king. He enjoys the fine pleasures in life such as art and music, but do to his life as a bandit, tends to resort to violence and threats when provoked enough. He is very impatient and not above killing anyone who disobeys or disagrees with him. He likes being treated like royalty. When people bow before him, it makes him very easy to negotiate with. He has to tolerance for disrespect. Only proper gentlemen and ladies are ever allowed a personal meeting with him. He takes it very offensively when people mention his nose.
Llane's father was a heavy drinker and very angry man. He often beat both Llane and his mother. His childhood was quite normal but for that annoyance. One night, deep into his adolescence, Llane's father came home especially drunk and stabbed his mother through the heart in rage, then proceeded to gouge Llane's right eye out. Llane slit his father's throat in his sleep and ran away later that night, joining a group of bandits and thieves. With these people, Llane learned to use a sword and how to steal for a living. He stayed with this people until the age of twenty-five, when he left on his own travels, working as a freelance mercenary. He tried to stay on the right side of the law, only taking on jobs and protectors and body guards for good folk, only killing when necessary. Unfortunately, this life bored Llane and four years later he went back to his Bandit family. He challenged the boss for leadership and killed him in single combat, becoming the leader himself. The group prospered for many years with Llane in charge. Eventually, news reached Llane of Moragarath's defeat and how the Mountains of Rain and Night were now abandoned. Llane took his bandits and thieves on a boat to the Mountains, gaining access to them through the Southern Cliffs. It was here that they carved the Arena of the Damned out of the rocks and caves of the Mountains of Rain and Night. Soon enough, the Arena became a popular source of entertainment and blood for the darker side of the world with Llane as its master.
Llane has a pet turtle named Krogel who he keeps with him at all times.
A tall, athletic man, Ulrich weighs near two-hundred pounds. He is fairly tanned and has prominent muscles all across his body. His skin is smooth and free of scars or other marks of battle, with the exception of a single long scar that runs down the length of his left arm. Ulrich is commonly described as "dashingly handsome," stealing the hearts of most women that he encounters. He has bright blue eyes that shine in the sunlight. His straight hair is dirty blond and remains tied back in a pony tail that reaches the base of his neck. He has a small goatee on the tip of his jaw.
Ulrich is the kind of stereotypical swordsman that one might read about in a fairy tale. He is brave, chivalrous and ready to deliver witty banter in any situation. He has a strong sense of right and wrong, coupled with his own view of what justice and fairness are. He is merciful to his opponents, preferring to give everyone a chance to join his side or reform, rather than killing everyone without consideration. He is a very curious and adventurous man, willing to delve into dangerous situations despite the warnings, just to see where it might lead him. He is kind and friendly to a rather extreme point, making it hard not to like him, even as he thrusts his blade towards your chest. His quest for revenge dominates his life and there is little he won't do to get closer to his man.
Ulrich's mother died in childbirth and he grew up with his father and older brother. It was a poor life, despite the fact that all three of them worked during the day at whatever jobs they could find. All of the work made Ulrich strong and willing to put effort into whatever task he was put to. Living a life with little to eat and much need for warmth in the winter, Ulrich and his brother were often tempted to steal or do other less than savory things to make end's meet. Their father forbade such things though and beat the boys whenever he caught them trying to do something that he considered 'wrong.' They did manage to survive for a decade but when Ulrich was ten years old, times were hard. His father had long since gone blind and so there was much work that had to be left to the brothers. Ulrich remained hopeful that it would get easier, but no relief came. His brother started to gamble for money in bars and on the streets. He was good at it and for a short while, they were living in greater luxury than any of the three had ever known, their father oblivious to the source of their new found income. However, as Ulrich's father had taught them they would, his brother soon became addicted. They lost everything they owned and still he could not stop playing his games. He eventually bet his own life, lost, and was killed for it. Ulrich's father died soon after of shame and grief and, sent into a righteous--but blind--rage, Ulrich decided that he would avenge his family. In the middle of the night, he sneaked into a blacksmith's shop and stole a sword from a rack on the wall. He then proceeded to a nearby inn and challenged his brother's murderer to a fair duel outside. Amused, the man accepted and they fought. The man was leaps and bounds ahead of Ulrich in skill with a sword, but Ulrich's anger let him sever the man's left pinky and thumb before the man slashed and left a long gash down Ulrich's left arm, fleeing the settlement. The wound healed eventually and became a scar, but Ulrich could no longer use his left arm for delicate or precise operations. He swore that he would hunt down the eight-fingered man and finish what he started that night in the street. Ulrich spent the next ten years of his life training with a sword and only making enough money to eat and pay for more training and chances to improve. At the age of twenty-one, he joined the crew of the Krackatowan Razor as both a sailor and swordsman. He hoped that in his travels and exploits, he would at last find his man and avenge his brother and father. He didn't approve of piracy, but he had a certain fondness for the captain and knew that it was his best chance to find retribution.
Ulrich is adept with many types of swords, but prefers to fight with the silver rapier that he stole when he was ten years old, in hopes of killing the eight-fingered man with the same sword that earned him his name.
Being the moral and ever-theatrical man that he is, Ulrich has taken to vigilante justice. Whenever his crew enters a port for long periods of time, he prefers to spend his nights dressed in black with a mask on, delivering justice to any scum and sinners unlucky enough to encounter him.
Ulrich is the conscience and voice of reason of the Krackatowan Razor, often convincing his fellow shipmates to end arguments and spare the lives of good men that they 'run into,' whether it be by taking them on as crew or giving them a chance to sail home in a row boat.
Murphy is a short, stocky fellow who weighs a little more than two hundred pounds. He has pale skin, unmarred except for a large burn on his right calf. He has shaggy black, graying hair that falls in rough, knotty patches around his head, hanging at shoulder height. He has a long, black, graying beard that falls to his waist, tied into a thick, tight braid. His eyes are a dark, brownish green.
Murphy has a silver tongue. He is a master of the art of persuasion. He finds great ease in reading a person's body movement and emotions. Because of this, it's very difficult to have a complete conversation with him while he systematically breaks down one's reason for wanting to talk to him. He only really likes to talk to intelligent people who can engage him in a good philosophical or religious debate. He isn't very trusting of people and prefers to use them for his own gain.
Murphy was born into a very religious family, taught from birth to follow the holy book to the letter and any deviation would make his soul burn. This was all fine and dandy and Murphy believed every word of it until he was twelve years old. Murphy's father lost a bet and couldn't pay the price--a concept that Murphy found great difficulty in conceiving as his father had drilled into him that gambling was evil. As punishment for the lack of payment, his creditor set his house aflame in the night. Murphy's parents burned that night, but Murphy managed to escape, jumping into a nearby pond before the fire on his leg spread to the rest of his body. For a short while, Murphy refused to talk. He stopped studying religion and shut himself away from the rest of the world. However, it wasn't long before the church offered to take him in as a ward. He accepted and slowly crept his way back into the clutched of "God." But he was never as devout as he had been in his childhood again. Rumors existed that he no longer believed in God at all and it was all a rouse. Of course, Murphy would deny this.
Murphy keeps two long, metal maces by his bedside, though no one knows why. No one has ever even seen him lift the weapons. If asked about them, he simply claims to feel safe with them around and dismisses the subject.
Rayne is a tall, skinny boy, standing at just under six feet. He weighs barely more than one-hundred pounds. His skin is very pale and covered in little scratches and cuts that would be almost unnoticeable if not for their numbers. A lanky child, Rayne's arms and legs are very long; the attribute that earned him his nicknamed: Scarecrow. He has matted black hair that hangs around his head in clumps and covers most of his eyes. When visible, one would take note of his eyes; the piercing emerald green color that is so characteristic of his family.
An immature little boy, Rayne has no lost love for adults, escaping their company for that of children his own age whenever possible. He is very distrustful of people who are older than him. Rayne is still enticed by the childhood idea of never growing up. Interestingly enough, he is also a natural leader, inspiring confidence and hope into any who will listen to him (a suspiciously adult-like trait). Rayne has quite the sweet tooth and will often stray from the task at hand to pursue a treat that has caught his eye. He also has a paralyzing fear of spiders, an ailment that has plagued him since birth without any known reason behind it.
Born the son of a wealthy banker in a southern fief of Araluen, Rayne spent his first decade of life relatively deprived of anything even slightly resembling fun. His father began educating the boy as soon as he could learn to read. Unfortunately for Mr. Ackerman, Rayne showed no interest in banking or money, for that matter.
As Rayne grew into the age when all children will inevitably do anything to rebel against their parents and the rest of society, his tendencies to break the line between social classes that people like his father had worked so hard to create became worse. He would run about the streets in nothing but the simplest clothing, handing out his fine jackets and pants to homeless folks and poor families.
Just before his thirteenth birthday, Rayne's father had had enough and threw the boy out into the streets, renouncing him as a son. Rayne had never been happier. He fled his home town and joined a traveling band of gypsies from which Rayne learned his true passion, among other things.. Leadership. The other children in the caravan looked up to him and they would do things for him that they wouldn't even do if their parents ordered them to. Want the little ones to go to bed? Get Rayne. They also taught him how to grow crops, sew and steal. He got quite the reputation among his new family.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. A year after finding the gypsies, Rayne was forced to leave when a wagon caught fire and he was blamed. They gave him enough food to make it to the nearest town and left him behind. The nearest town just so happened to be the capital city of Araluen. It was here that Rayne rediscovered his abilities and began rallying the poor and homeless children to band together. With little effort, he convinced them to leave their dirty, miserable homes and join him. He led them out of the city and deep into the forest where they built new homes out of sticks and stones. Some were even ambitious enough to build their homes in the treetops, Rayne included. They named it, 'The Farm,' after the Scarecrow (Rayne) who watched over them.
The Farm has grown in the past year, both in size and population. Only one rule. No adults allowed.
Rayne is accompanied anywhere he goes by a stray dog that he found, who he named Shivers. Rayne is an extremely fast runnter and an unnaturally skilled fist fighter, facts made infamous among the inhabitants of the Farm. Most people only know him by his nickname, Scarecrow.
Appearance: A man attempting to enter his latter-years gracefully, Robin is a wide man that stand at about five and half feet. He very purposefully stands tall with excellent posture, a stance that might lead one into thinking him a soldier. He weighs around two-hundred pounds, the majority of which is muscle, made clear by his tendency to wear shirts without sleeves, revealing his frightening biceps. He has dark blue eyes and straight black hair that's just beginning to show lines of gray at the roots, which falls in around ear height all around his head. His facial hair is twisted into a long braid that falls half way down his chest, also showing signs of gray. Personality: Robin Dale has been somewhat emotionally closed since his mentor's death, but it's gotten better over the years. Much like the two male influences in his life, he has a very militaristic way of doing things. He believes firmly in justice, law and order. He is fiercely protective of those close to him, what few there are. He's never fully off-duty, always expecting something to wrong in the back of his head. He's resentful of his age, often getting very angry when he notices that his reflexes or his mind are starting to get weaker. Despite these feelings though, he remains one of the most prominent tactical strategists in the Corps.
History: Robin's father was a respected officer in the military, before and after his birth. His duties often kept him far away from his family for long periods of time. However, he somehow managed to be there for all the important things, like birthdays and other holidays. His little boy was immensely proud of him and spent his entire childhood focusing on his studies and preparing himself to follow in his father's footsteps.
Robin couldn't have known that the impressive intellect and strength he was developing at such an early age would get him noticed by the Ranger Corps. Much to his chagrin, they scooped him up and made him an apprentice. He spent weeks resisting them, and mentor after mentor would give up on him, claiming that he had no respect or discipline. Then he was apprenticed to Gabriel Wintergreen, who saw what was going on in his head and started treating him like a soldier. He gave him strict orders and severe punishments. The two bonded over the years and Robin was devastated when he was murdered in his sleep by assassins while Robin was home visiting his parents.
Robin hunted down and slaughtered the assassins, after which he was temporarily suspended from the Ranger Corps. He spent a year living with his mother and father, who was now retired. He honed his skills alone as best he could and after a year, he departed from home and took over his mentor's post in the Greenfield fief.
The Corps. kept a close eye on him for a long time, not handing him any tasks that they feared might harm his mental state. But like all things do, his past faded away to everyone around him and they started treating him like a normal Ranger again, but no one was really ever that comfortable around him, spare a few. Then they sent him a notice telling him where to retrieve his new apprentice.
His pony's name is Digger.
Last Edit: Sept 25, 2010 22:12:01 GMT -5 by JezusBagels
Tandar: I think you introduced Dustin at the Gathering Grounds, but I believe his last appearance was on the Highland Ice Serpent. I inquired about him because I may be interested in using him for a thread.
Sept 13, 2020 18:05:31 GMT -5
Cutebabys0: Damn, you guys are still around? Hahah
Sept 13, 2020 20:49:48 GMT -5
Cutebabys0: Have y'all been active all this while?
Sept 13, 2020 20:50:52 GMT -5
Tandar: Hi, Cutebabys! No, I was inactive for several years but recently came back.
Sept 13, 2020 21:09:52 GMT -5
Cutebabys: Nice! It's been so long since I've been here
Sept 13, 2020 21:30:30 GMT -5
Cutebabys: Received the email about the new plot though
Sept 13, 2020 21:30:41 GMT -5
Tandar: Yeah, it's just starting. Check out Brandwyn's posts in Desperation.
Sept 13, 2020 21:38:05 GMT -5
Brandwyn: Hello. Welcome back Cutebabys. I have been on here all this time but not super active the whole time. Life keeps interrupting. Like it did the last two days from work. Glad you are back! I need some writing buddies!
Sept 16, 2020 20:59:14 GMT -5
Brandwyn: tandar check out the araluen board and your pm
Sept 17, 2020 12:14:31 GMT -5
Brandwyn: So how do we advertise Halt's Playground?
Sept 18, 2020 21:30:14 GMT -5