Name: Ghorvak Ironmaw
Age: 120 Winters
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Appearance:
Ghorvak Ironmaw is a towering wall of muscle and menace, standing at an imposing 7′2″ and weighing in at 375 pounds of honed strength. His mottled green skin, rough like weathered stone and streaked with darker patches along his arms and shoulders, speaks to centuries of battle and the brutal heritage of his bloodline. Scars cross his broad chest and forearms—some jagged, others ritualistically etched—each one a story of conquest or survival. His magenta eyes are arresting: glowing faintly with a strange, arcane light, they shimmer like storm-lit dusk, unsettling and hypnotic. They mark him as more than just a warlord—they are the eyes of something ancient, something that has stared into the void and roared back.
Thick black hair, streaked faintly with silver, is tied back in a warrior's ponytail at the crown, while the rest cascades freely down his back in tangled, heavy ropes. Bone rings and carved beads—trophies from slain beasts and fallen enemies—decorate several locks. His two lower tusks, thick and slightly curved, jut up from his jaw, polished at the tips and engraved with rune-like symbols in a forgotten dialect. His massive frame is built like a living fortress—shoulders broad enough to bear a log, arms like iron-bound pillars. Veins twist down his biceps like roots of an ancient tree. When he moves, he does so with the deliberate power of a creature that has no need to rush—his enemies come to him. Adorning his body is a combination of hardened leather and bone-plated armor, fitted with iron pauldrons and a cloak made from the hide of a thunderbeast he slew a thousand years ago. Hanging from his belt are charms, totems, and the shrunken skulls of rival chieftains who dared challenge his dominion. When astride his Dreadmane, Vireltharion, Ghorvak is a storm made flesh—war incarnate, thundering down from the skies with horn, blade, and fury. Among whispers of his brutality and cunning, other tales circulate—low, reverent, and often disbelieved. They speak of a primal endowment befitting a creature of his stature: thick, heavy, and more beast than man. Even at rest, the rumors claim, his size is enough to cow rivals and enthrall lovers. When roused... well, few live to tell the tale with coherence. Whether a gift of bloodline, curse, or conquest, one truth remains—nothing about Ghorvak Ironmaw is ever small.
Vireltharion is a creature of unparalleled grace and raw power, a perfect fusion of equine elegance and draconic fury. Standing at an imposing 20.3 hands (6′9″) at the shoulder and stretching 12 feet in body length—excluding its 20-foot serpentine tail—this dreadmane weighs a formidable 3.2 tons. Its colossal wingspan stretches 40 feet, unfurling like the storm-wrought sails of a forgotten god's warship, capable of casting thunderous shadows across the sky. The head of Vireltharion is distinctly equine, with a slightly draconic muzzle that tapers into sharp, angular features. Two long, ethereal whiskers trail from the upper jaw, drifting with supernatural grace even in complete stillness—an echo of cloud dragons and forgotten spirits. Protruding fangs peek from its mouth, lending a predatory edge to its regal profile. Its mane, a magnificent three feet long, flows like a living cascade of shadow-flame or starlit mist, its hues shifting with mood and magic—blue-white when calm, crimson-black in fury, and silver-violet in communion with arcane forces.
The body is that of a mighty stallion—broad-chested, dense with muscle—but armored with overlapping obsidian scales across the shoulders, flanks, chest, and haunches. Each scale glints like volcanic glass etched with ancient sigils, channeling protective magics and elemental power. A one-inch layer of sleek black fur covers the rest of its body, insulating and shielding the beast in both extremes of climate and battle. Its fetlocks are thick and noble, furred to 8 inches in length, framing limbs that are both majestic and devastating. Its tail is long and serpentine, measuring 20 feet, tapering into a flickering tuft of fur, flowing like fire, yet capable of shifting in an instant into a bladed, ridged spine that could slash through armor and bone alike. The wings are a staggering spectacle—40 feet across and immense in presence. Leathery in core structure, they are edged and crowned with majestic feathers, blending draconic might with seraphic grandeur. Along the wing margins and sweeping up across the upper surfaces near the shoulders, rows of iridescent, storm-tinted feathers fan outward like the plumage of some divine raptor. These feathers shimmer with latent energy, crackling with arcane charge in flight or combat. When the wings beat, they unleash rippling shockwaves through the air, thunderous in their wrath. Even at rest, they arc behind Vireltharion like a celestial cloak torn from the sky itself.
Hooves are no ordinary equine fare—tipped and split like talons, capable of gripping cliffsides or crushing stone. They serve as weapons of war as much as tools of locomotion, etched with faint runes and burnished from centuries of wear. At the creature's brow rises its most iconic feature: a central spiraled horn, five feet in length, forged of luminous silver streaked with veins of ancient starlight and arcane fire. It glows faintly, pulsing with power. From behind its temples extend two curved, black draconic horns—only two—reminiscent of antelope or ancient wyrms, their ridged surfaces echoing a lineage older than mortal memory. Vireltharion's temperament is proud, sapient, and unyielding. It is not merely a beast—it is a storm-born spirit, a will made flesh. It communicates telepathically, speaking in dreams, visions, or bone-deep omens. It demands respect and bonds only through ritual, destiny, or unshakable loyalty. Vireltharion does not serve; it chooses. Its rider, Ghorvak Ironmaw, is not its master, but its equal—a soul tethered by purpose, storm, and battle.
Age: 120 Winters
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Appearance:
Ghorvak Ironmaw is a towering wall of muscle and menace, standing at an imposing 7′2″ and weighing in at 375 pounds of honed strength. His mottled green skin, rough like weathered stone and streaked with darker patches along his arms and shoulders, speaks to centuries of battle and the brutal heritage of his bloodline. Scars cross his broad chest and forearms—some jagged, others ritualistically etched—each one a story of conquest or survival. His magenta eyes are arresting: glowing faintly with a strange, arcane light, they shimmer like storm-lit dusk, unsettling and hypnotic. They mark him as more than just a warlord—they are the eyes of something ancient, something that has stared into the void and roared back.
Thick black hair, streaked faintly with silver, is tied back in a warrior's ponytail at the crown, while the rest cascades freely down his back in tangled, heavy ropes. Bone rings and carved beads—trophies from slain beasts and fallen enemies—decorate several locks. His two lower tusks, thick and slightly curved, jut up from his jaw, polished at the tips and engraved with rune-like symbols in a forgotten dialect. His massive frame is built like a living fortress—shoulders broad enough to bear a log, arms like iron-bound pillars. Veins twist down his biceps like roots of an ancient tree. When he moves, he does so with the deliberate power of a creature that has no need to rush—his enemies come to him. Adorning his body is a combination of hardened leather and bone-plated armor, fitted with iron pauldrons and a cloak made from the hide of a thunderbeast he slew a thousand years ago. Hanging from his belt are charms, totems, and the shrunken skulls of rival chieftains who dared challenge his dominion. When astride his Dreadmane, Vireltharion, Ghorvak is a storm made flesh—war incarnate, thundering down from the skies with horn, blade, and fury. Among whispers of his brutality and cunning, other tales circulate—low, reverent, and often disbelieved. They speak of a primal endowment befitting a creature of his stature: thick, heavy, and more beast than man. Even at rest, the rumors claim, his size is enough to cow rivals and enthrall lovers. When roused... well, few live to tell the tale with coherence. Whether a gift of bloodline, curse, or conquest, one truth remains—nothing about Ghorvak Ironmaw is ever small.
- Flaccid length: 5.5 inches
- Erect length: 11.5 inches
→ Just over 2× increase in length - Flaccid girth (circumference): 5.25 inches
- Erect girth: 7.5 inches
→ ~43% increase in girth
Vireltharion is a creature of unparalleled grace and raw power, a perfect fusion of equine elegance and draconic fury. Standing at an imposing 20.3 hands (6′9″) at the shoulder and stretching 12 feet in body length—excluding its 20-foot serpentine tail—this dreadmane weighs a formidable 3.2 tons. Its colossal wingspan stretches 40 feet, unfurling like the storm-wrought sails of a forgotten god's warship, capable of casting thunderous shadows across the sky. The head of Vireltharion is distinctly equine, with a slightly draconic muzzle that tapers into sharp, angular features. Two long, ethereal whiskers trail from the upper jaw, drifting with supernatural grace even in complete stillness—an echo of cloud dragons and forgotten spirits. Protruding fangs peek from its mouth, lending a predatory edge to its regal profile. Its mane, a magnificent three feet long, flows like a living cascade of shadow-flame or starlit mist, its hues shifting with mood and magic—blue-white when calm, crimson-black in fury, and silver-violet in communion with arcane forces.
The body is that of a mighty stallion—broad-chested, dense with muscle—but armored with overlapping obsidian scales across the shoulders, flanks, chest, and haunches. Each scale glints like volcanic glass etched with ancient sigils, channeling protective magics and elemental power. A one-inch layer of sleek black fur covers the rest of its body, insulating and shielding the beast in both extremes of climate and battle. Its fetlocks are thick and noble, furred to 8 inches in length, framing limbs that are both majestic and devastating. Its tail is long and serpentine, measuring 20 feet, tapering into a flickering tuft of fur, flowing like fire, yet capable of shifting in an instant into a bladed, ridged spine that could slash through armor and bone alike. The wings are a staggering spectacle—40 feet across and immense in presence. Leathery in core structure, they are edged and crowned with majestic feathers, blending draconic might with seraphic grandeur. Along the wing margins and sweeping up across the upper surfaces near the shoulders, rows of iridescent, storm-tinted feathers fan outward like the plumage of some divine raptor. These feathers shimmer with latent energy, crackling with arcane charge in flight or combat. When the wings beat, they unleash rippling shockwaves through the air, thunderous in their wrath. Even at rest, they arc behind Vireltharion like a celestial cloak torn from the sky itself.
Hooves are no ordinary equine fare—tipped and split like talons, capable of gripping cliffsides or crushing stone. They serve as weapons of war as much as tools of locomotion, etched with faint runes and burnished from centuries of wear. At the creature's brow rises its most iconic feature: a central spiraled horn, five feet in length, forged of luminous silver streaked with veins of ancient starlight and arcane fire. It glows faintly, pulsing with power. From behind its temples extend two curved, black draconic horns—only two—reminiscent of antelope or ancient wyrms, their ridged surfaces echoing a lineage older than mortal memory. Vireltharion's temperament is proud, sapient, and unyielding. It is not merely a beast—it is a storm-born spirit, a will made flesh. It communicates telepathically, speaking in dreams, visions, or bone-deep omens. It demands respect and bonds only through ritual, destiny, or unshakable loyalty. Vireltharion does not serve; it chooses. Its rider, Ghorvak Ironmaw, is not its master, but its equal—a soul tethered by purpose, storm, and battle.
Abilities:
- Flight: Vireltharion can easily carry two or more riders, soaring through even the most violent storms. Its powerful wings can cut through the air with deadly precision, allowing it to reach heights that few can follow.
- Magic Horn: The spiraled horn can channel immense energy, capable of healing, destruction, teleportation, or summoning storms at will.
- Elemental Breath: Vireltharion has the rare ability to unleash a draconic breath weapon. Its breath can be voidfire, a blue-black flame that burns through both material and spirit, or an electrified wind capable of shredding trees and enemies alike.
- Feral Rage: When enraged, Vireltharion enters a berserk state. Its wings harden like blades, its mane ignites in a blazing inferno, and the very ground beneath its hooves scorches with the fury of a tempest. Its roar is enough to send entire armies scattering.
- Celestial Stormcall: With a sky-piercing cry, Vireltharion can summon thunder, lightning, and even meteor showers, striking down foes from the heavens themselves. Its presence on the battlefield is enough to turn the tides of any war.
- Whisker Sense: The alicorn's sensitive whiskers can detect unseen threats or subtle shifts in magical fields, giving it an edge over most enemies and allowing it to sense danger before it even appears.
- Horn Spells: Vireltharion can cast spells using its horn, whether to heal with pure, radiant light or curse foes with silence and fear. It can even open portals across ley lines, allowing it to move across vast distances in the blink of an eye.
- Battle Rage: In the heat of battle, Vireltharion's mane ignites, its eyes burn like twin suns, and the shockwaves from its wingbeats send destruction rippling through the battlefield.
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Vexa-9's Cyborg Augmentations (Post-Collapse)
Right Eye Replacement (Optic Unit X5)
Right Arm: Modular Combat Limb
Lower Legs: Reinforced Mobility Units
Spinal Column Interface ("The Scaffold")
Internal Life-Support Unit (Chest Core)
Scars, Not Armor:
Korrin – The Draconic Crow Automaton
Type
Core Power Source
Behavior & Personality
Behavioral Quirks
Trailwrights
Trailwrights
Butchers
Wardens
Retainers
Omegas
Sentinels