Character(s) Stolen flames character thread

[Feralstryker]

@Vitriosk

Name: Amaris (last name unknown)

Species: Dragonoid (nightwing)

Gender: female

Build: small and lean yet st

Age: while her true age is unknown, she claims to those she meets to be around 23

Eye color: blue

Hair color: raven black

Distinguishing features: Bears a black and blue tribal dragon tattoo upon the back of her right shoulder. Forelimbs laced with some faded

Personality: Calm, quiet, and intelligent. Often acts upon her own sense of morality and feral instincts rather than any social standards put in place. Is open and kind to others, yet mostly keeps to herself for fear of becoming too attached.

History: Amaris is the last of the species of nightwings (a nocturnal species of dragon that draws their power from the moon) to remain after being a sole survivor of an army raid within her home clan. Since then she has lived her life in hiding, somehow seeking to forge a name for herself without ever allowing her true nature to come to light within the vast trades city of Knavesmire. While in the past getting by within small trades and odd jobs throughout town, Amaris now has forged a life as the town's healer after finding a knack for her ability to heal and seek biological knowledge.While she now lives in service to the very race that became the downfall of her own people, the young girl still bears the memories of her former clan life, eager to seek out the days when her kind can once again live free from hiding. As such, rumors have been spreading about of the local healer accepting mercenary work by night, eager to take a stand within society.

Human form:

Dragon form:





Name: Connor Flint

Age: Appears to be 27

Species: Dragonoid (firewing)

Height: 6,2

Hair color: Dark brunette with a reddish tinge, short

Eye color: Amber

Build: Tall, well endowed, and muscular yet still holding an air of leanness about him

Distinguishing features: Bears a black tribal dragon tattoo upon his right shoulder extending down his bicep and forearm, limbs laced with scars from years of training and fighting. Has a distinct and deep scar across his chest from a past nearly fatal wound.

Personality: Calm, Intelligent, cold, and calculative; Connor is first and foremost a man of war, ever the brutal and sinister fighter that he was trained to be since a mere hatchling. He is savage in his approach and unforgiving to any who refuse to abide by his code of morale, yet protective and secretly caring to those who manage to earn his trust and loyalty.

History: Ever the living breathing weapon of explosive destruction his lineage promised since birth, Connor was brought into this world to be the very example of the Nightwalker's brutality since the dragonoid was old enough to fight. Ever determined and filled with the blood lust and desire to prevail, the young man quickly rose amongst the ranks of his fellow soldiers and saw the stains of battle well before reaching his years into adulthood, his body scarred and beaten yet never broken within his resolve to move forward. Under the rule of the seven elders to which his kind held to a high regard, Connor was awarded in his victory under the blaze of backbone hill, a battle that greatly turned the tides within the war of their opposing kingdoms and putting many at their mercy and strengthening their numbers in land and resources, by being promoted to commander and now presides within the walls as trainer and leader of the younger recruits. Yet as word would have it, the dragon now also resides with interest over the prisoner wards as well, seeking out those who hold potential either as a broken soldier or merely playthings for his own amusement during his freetime.

Appearance:

Human form-

Dragon form-

 

[Vitriosk]

Name: Uuhm Gore-fist ( Uhmru' Ah Gra'fiss )

Race: Orcish

Age: 47 years old (Slave for 25, and servant soldier for 11)

Height: 6'5"

Weight: 245lbs

Eyes: Amber - Golden tinted bronze

Hair: None/Bald - Reddish gold on arms and chest

Build: Muscular, stocky, and thick chested. Every bit a trained soldier and warriors musculature.

Features: Jagged scars run the length of his left arm - Starting at wrist, and ending atop the shoulder blade. Crosshatched cuts and overlapping burns emblazon the arm in a torrent of mismatched flesh. From hip to neck, his back is riddled with whip lines, and split skin scars from years of torture. His tongue is snipped short as punishment, and both of his tusks are filed down to short stubs. Rounded to protect his captors from his bite. Both wrists and ankles are near permanently bruised from manacles and shackles alike, while his neck is marked with evenly spaced puncture wounds from a choke collar.

Personality: Punished constantly into subserviance, Uuhm is a quiet and obediant warrior. His tongue is held in check by a fear of further beatings, but beneath the skin, an unspoken rage waits all day long. He wants for nothing more than to see himself freed of the shackles, but in his times given sword, he forgets those wants. - Preferring the loss of self in the donning of borrowed armor, and the blood of any who are made to stand before him. His lifelong regrets linger within him and are evident in his stance, as he prays and secretly lets his woes out for those of his kin he has been made to slay. He feels for those who are like him, but in his life, the beatings of masters, and quartermasters alike, have driven the fight from the surface and into the deepest pits of his soul. Where it burns and waits in earnest for but a single chance to strike and be truly free. Merely killing one of his owners, or the men who whip him mercilessly, is not enough to draw out the lust for their spirit upon his tongue - He demands true freedom.

Backstory-History: Born to a small tribal village of Orcs, Uuhm (so renamed by the humans, and their soft tongues), was to be a soldier and hunter for his people. He was trained to hold bow and blade from a young age, but before he reached adulthood, the besieging forces of man came upon his tribe, and none save a few were left alive. Two elder shamanistic healers - The midwives and wise-women of his kind, and himself. His initial fear and his curiosity alike were the downfall for the young Orc, as he hid from the humans who burned and tortured his kin to death, and still returned to see the wreckage before all of them had left. His claws had found several open arms and necks, with tusks snapped shut about a hand here and there, but in the end his struggling was for nought against the trained soldiers who knocked him out and tore him away from all he had ever known.

Thrown into slavery as a laborer and farmland plow - Wrapped in chains and made to sew the fields under whip and glare, Uuhm became enraged by the treatment of his kind by the human overseers, and many years into his servitude, he finally snapped. Breaking the bindings about his wrists, and setting his wrath upon the household who owned him. He killed each man, woman and child who lived inside the house of men, and when the burning remains were spotted by guards, it took several more of them to bring him to heel. They locked him in shackles tight, and held him with taught ropes, until it was declared he would battle to the death. Against his own kind, and against any others his masters saw fit. This became his rebirth as but a soldier slave who listened and obeyed, while fanning flames that did not breach the surface. A molten madness becoming all that held him grounded day in and day out - Through beatings and empty stomachs alike. The only solace he found was at the end of his blade, and in the meals given to him for survival against all odds. He wasnt supposed to live so long, or fight so hard, but he would never let go of either his determination to be free, or his maddened lust for combat. They were two halves of the same whole. Of Uuhm

 

[Vitriosk]

Name: Emm "M" or EmmE

Race: Orcish

Age: 36

Height: 6'3"

Weight: 330lbs

Eyes: Hazel

Hair: Short and Grey

Build: Rotund and Muscular. Thick legs, strong back, wide shoulders, with a large stomach and full chest

Features: One partially broken tusk - left - A cleft lip, and burn scarred right jawline up to cheek. Several whip scars on his back, but few other noticeable scars. Large brows and deep set eyes even for Orcs, with a jutting lower jaw and genuine underbite. Missing several lower teeth and two fingers on his left hand - Pinky and index finger. A chopped off right ear and a displaced nasal bridge. Leading to loud and obnoxious breathing, as well as an increasingly nasally voice - Although he can only seem to say one thing in human

Personality: "M" or Emm, as he is known, is a quiet and curteous slave. Raised and owned from youth by a family of well off farmers, who treated him like precious livestock rather than a whipping post. He defends his homestead and the lives of his masters with blood, sweat, and tears whenever need-be. He never speaks out, and his calm appearance is only made more aloof looking when someone catches him napping while standing up in the sunlight of the wheat fields. His hunched back and pot-belly scream of toiling in the sun, but despite a relaxed life by comparison, his body is rigid with muscles from heavy labor and constant working. Though he does it all with a light grin, and an easy step. He seems happy and content at his job, and despite raising a few alarms by passing into neighboring lands while wandering, he always takes the whip without complaint. Leading many to know him, into the belief that he is a simpleton even among the Orcs. Whether that is true is unknown for he rarely makes noise, and only ever says Em, or Emme in human. Sounds that seem to slip out while heavy in thought or focused on a task in solitude.

Backstory: M was found wandering by a local farmer following a raid on an Orcish settlement. The child of no more than five was taken to the checkpoint leading through the walls, but despite being no threat, the guards brandished steel and threatened to kill the beast if the farmer brought him in. So instead, the farmer headed to his home, washed up the Orc child, and sought out the help of the local small Baron. The land and slave owner took one look at the sharp eyed and quiet Orc, and bought him on the spot. Uncertain what good could come of the purchase at first, but quickly realising the youth had a way with plants. The youngling would till, and toil from sun up til sundown without a complaint, and as the years progressed, the masters of "M" found more and more ways to use all he possessed. From traveling between grainaries and fields with cart and plow, to merely enforcing a light tax on the toll road to their south. He was capable of anything they taught him to do, and was so rarely out of line, that they took to feeding him regularly, and even housed him in his own personal shed. Something unheard of for an Orcish slave. Em grew comfortable and happily under the eyes of his owners, and not once did the thought of retalliation strike him. They were all he knew, and their fields were all he seemed to care for besides them.