I know, double post, but I wanted a clean post for my char sheet. It is not quite done, but it gives a good idea.
Name: Blacken Hand and Broken Toof
Species: Ogre and Gnoblar
Occupation: Maneater and Gnoblar Look out.
Blacken Hand Image: Blacken Hand is, like all Ogres, quite the sight. Standing at a relatively small nine feet and ten inches he was bullied slightly by the other Orges for his diminished size. Despite his height his muscles are finely toned and powerful. His left hand is covered in scars and lacerations, with several plates of metal he bolted on to ‘make it better faster’ and forgot to ever take off.
He wears a poorly fitted over coat sewn out of hundreds of hides, shirts, furs, and other less mentionable things and riddled with pockets, so many that he has no idea what are in them anymore (and secretly fears more then one of them.) On his head he wears a oriental style helmet that must have at one point been made for him because it actually fits. The left side of this helmet has been ripped out and the metal bent into hooks to hold things next to his head.
When he is excepting battle or when he wants to look particularly impressive he wears a rickety wooden tower that has a tiny detachable hut on the top strapped to his back that juts three feet above his head. When he feels the need to think he detaches the hut and crudely straps it to the left side of his head.
He caries a giant seven foot long great sword on his back, it is notched and rusted though many years of use. Around his impressive gut he wears his most praised possession, several bandoleers stitched together, packed full of black powder weapons of all shapes and sizes. From the smallest pistol made for a noble child to a gun that is better described as a small cannon, he loves each and every gun and collects them with a fervor unmatched in any of his other pursuits.
Broken Toof Image: Broken Toof the Gnoblar is a short scrawny thing, he loves clothing and collects as much as he can, so saying what is regular outfit is is difficult. The fact that he has so much clothing and yet can only wear child sizes is best not examined too deeply.
He wears around his waste a tiny bandoleer reminiscent of his master's. Although he is not allowed to carry nearly as many black powder as his boss he has found his own object to collect. Teeth. Around his hips a whole zoo of his most prized teeth hang, although his most precious tooth, half a broken Sabretusks SabreTusk hangs on a string around his neck.
Despite his ineptitude in many other endeavors he has found that he has a natural talent for tailoring, and he spends much of his time fixing or adding onto his and his masters clothing.
When he is not running errands for his master he can be found mainly in one of three places. He spends much time in the maze of pockets in his masters coat, fixing tears, adding new pockets, or sewing secret passage ways between them. He also is working on finding out what is in all the pockets, although his memory is too poor to remember it all at any one time he knows at least what most of them hold. At other times he spends in a pouch on his masters waist, there he reloads guns after battle and rests when not doing anything else. When his master is thinking he gets stuffed into the tiny reinforced hut where he can whisper to and converse with his master.
During battles his job is mostly to stay in the tiny tower on his masters back and call out what is going on on the battle field and give 'advice' on tactics. He also shoots small guns, throws rocks, and in other ways generally tries to be helpful in a battle. If they gets caught in battle and he does not have time to gain his perch he will hide in his masters pouch and pockets, reloading his masters favorite guns and stabbing with his spear if the opportunity arrives.
Blacken Hand Back story: Blacken Hand grew up in a small kingdom on the edges of the Ogre lands, and for the most part he had the normal Ogre childhood of horrific violence and survival though shear luck. Being on the edge of the Orge lands his kingdom had much more then it's share of man eaters that passed though. Over time Blacken Hand came to idolize these wanderers and their strange, but no less violent, ways. He was fascinated with the black powder weapons they carried and their tales of strange lands full of races he had never heard of.
Eventually he managed to get his hands on a chaos dwarf rifle when it's past owner was smashed under a wild giant's club. Sadly for him it was badly damaged by the giant and when he tried to shoot it he filled it much to full of black powder. It blew up, killing one of his Gnoblars and mangling his hand. On that day he got his name Blacken Hand for the dark burns left on his hand that would take months to fully heal.
Still, this incident did nothing to scare him away from the awesome might of black powder, indeed he only fell in love with it all the more for it's destructive powers. When he became a fully grown bull he left his kingdom along with one of his Gnoblars (he ate the rest for safe keeping) to see the world. And to find more black powder weapons!
Broken Toof Back story: On the day Broken Toof was turned three, four of his siblings were eaten alive. But such is the way of the Gnoblars, even when Broken Toof learned this he did not care much. After all, if they were not smart enough, or quick enough, to stay out of the Ogres pots they did not deserve life.
For much of his early life he served as a Gnoblar trapper to a great Ogre hunter who lived in the mountains less then half a hour to the south of Blacken Hands tribe. It was a life that almost any would describe as horrid, at any moment he could be eaten by his master or any of the number of monsters that were kept as pets. But for a Gnoblar these dangers were merely part of every day life, and indeed he was as happy as one could expect.
It was during his times with the hunter that he gained his greatest addiction, the collecting of teeth. He was allowed to keep the teeth from any beasts he killed, but the teeth from the monsters that the hunter killed were strictly reserved for the hunter, who used them decorations and bartering goods. For the most part Broken Toof was happy with this arrangement, but all good things come to a end.
One day, the hunter's fiercest, most loyal, most powerful, Saber tusk died. The hunter felt no sadness of course, but the skull of it would make a most excellent decoration in his cave. So the hunter boiled the head and mounted the skull on a precarious ledge about 12 feet off the ground. When Broken Toof saw the skull, and more importantly the teeth, he instantly knew he had to have it to complete his own collection. Still, he knew that trying to take it would mean death, and he would only ever be able to admire it from afar.
He managed to hold off on his thieving urges for two weeks.
One night, when the hunter was asleep, Broken Toof snuck into the cave, just to admire the skull, not to take it! But when he saw it... Sitting there... Gleaming in the moonlight.... Before he knew what he was doing he had a rock in his hand and was throwing it at the skull. He was never a good aim with a stone, there was no way the rock would hit the skull, he would be able to just sneak right back out again.
The rock stuck the skull and toppled it from the ledge.
When the skull hit the ground it broke into several pieces, and with it Broken Toof knew his life had been shattered as well. Pausing only long enough to grab a snapped off sabertooth he quickly ran from the cave, knowing he would never be able to escape the wrath of the hunter when he found out what had happened.
Running for all his worth down the slope of the mountain he stumble across another Gnoblar who was rooting around in the hunters trash heap. The other Gnoblar snarled at him, perhaps thinking Broken Toof was here to steal the scraps of food it had found. Without the slightest hesitation Broken Toof stabbed it with the broken sabertooth, slaying it on the spot. Thinking quickly Broken Toof switched his rags with the dead Gnoblar's rags, hoping to perhaps make the hunter think he was dead. Then he quickly followed the tracks of the dead Gnoblar and found a small camp site with a Ogre who was just starting to wake up. When Broken Toof entered the camp the Ogre ether did not realize or did not care that he was not the same Gnoblar that had left. Thus Broken Toof became the personal Gnoblar of Blacken Hand.
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Topic: Storm of Chaos OffTopic Thread (full...for now...) (Read 8723 times)