RP Story

Some readers finally decided to join the Rp before the admission is closed then... teneur2g, get a more creative character... I'll let you join if you put a bit more imagination in your char... Don't take this as an offense but your style reminds me of Andy in a way. But showing undead with emotions was bit funny to me:D

Carigon seems to be a good writer and can join. I won't post updates cause I'll soon go... Last post today and until after tomorrow!

yes of course i will change my char a bit, so you can hear of a new person you never heard of in the story of warcraft

NAME OF CHARACTER: Throll
AGE: He didn't counted his birthdays, but he's geneticly 33 years old, this could be equivelant to a young adult yhuman.
GENDER: Manly
RACE: Orc, almost pure orc.
APPEARANCE: He is a very large troll, lesser orcs tends to avoid him, fearing Throll's massive arms. Throll's mother was an one-headed oger and his father a orc, infinite love reigned betwen the two different races. He is tall, with a yellowish skin, with some darker spots. His body is larger than the usual orc, while the face is mostly protected by humongous fangs, and his face have been forged by hate and violence, some parts of his face are really dark.
He always fur on him, when a war is coming, he wears more fur and animal heads on him, not that he's shamanic, but he hates the animal.
ITEMS: Cruel Colossus blade of quickness socketed with few jewels. No seriously, he doesn't wear any war items, he only wear those fur clothes, and of course a dagger he wears on his chest, under his clothes to strike an oppenant if he understimate him and attack Throll. Throll's dagger saved him many times. Throll's father was named Threll, he was a warlord and always weared that damn dagger, now he's dead and Throll wears it, it doesn't have any magical attributes.. but each time he stabs someone he feels good and get used to his father's death.
PROFESSION AND SPECIALITY: Wrestling and melee barbaric tactics... don't ask me what's that.
BIOGRAPHY: Born from a one-headed ogre and his father, an orc. Throll always got respected, if not he used to use his warlord charesteristics ( Loud voice and big muscles ) to gain the needed respect. Of course, he didn't always used those stubborn manners, he would also get to hunt Trolls, Quillbeastes and Ghouls with some citizens. Throll was already more powerrful than a mature adult when he was about 16...Years of hunting, protection and wars victory, many human kills made him a high-rated orc, he's now one of the hundred of respect orcs. Almost everyone he crosses shows him some respect. Few years later, a big war betwen the orcs and the Mountain giant occured, after the cataclysmic battle, Throll was the only survivor, mainly beceause he was in a mission of scouting a nearby gold mine, in that gold mine he have found a dead frost dragon, surrounded by necromancers, he watched that morbid ritual where the necromancers would attemp to revive it.
WRITING SKILLS AND EXPERIENCE: Well, i won awards for my drawings, but i never tried to write, i'm giving a try now.

I haven't really readed the whole story...

Pherexio: Well people... there is a tournament going on... I don't have time to post too much... we have at least one spectator in the audience of the tournament.... ok... (*hint hint* anyone can update the tournament status, I mean a spectator sees what the contestant sees, just from a different point of view; besides, it'd help out the story greatly.)

Anywyas... my quick update...

(Kar's Character):
"Stands had been erected and filled, one large battle arena consumed the entire field. The tournament managers had insisted that all contestants stay in the seats provided for them. Most of them didn't listen, including Kar. She instead chose to watch the fight from the boughs of a tree several feet (metre or two) from the edge of the ring.
Köl was gathering mana before the match began, and the impressive looking tauren was meditating on the opposite of the ring. Köl had his spear propped against his shoulder and the tauren had a large wooden totem resting on its side next to him.
'Ready... and one!' Niether flinched at the announcement.
'...and two!' Still there was so action.
'Three..... Begin!' The crowd grew silent, the announcer still, and the breeze fell. For three minutes it seemed as if nothing was happening, then everyone heard it: chanting.
Both warriors were chanting a spell, and the effects they seeked were overt. the tauren began to increase in size and his hands began to glow. Köl was beginning to glow a pale blue-green; beads of mana could be seen floating around him in dense formations.
The crowd sat on the edge of their seats with awe and trepidation. Each warrior remained in his respective position: Köl stood and the tauren sat.
At the end of the three minutes that seemed to last forever, both warriors charged.
The tauren gave his battle cry and Köl took to the skies with an impressive leap of at least 30 feet (about 10 metres) almost straight upward. ..."

Ok, there's the groundwork for the first fight. Continue on from there someone, I want to see how someone else thinks this'll turn out....

Why not have the tournament a "hidden" roster, it was created to get the best fighters and mages from all lands. After they were found, they would be offered ten thousand gold in return of the some enemies head.

[before i start, im sorry... i dont know how to type an umlaut over a letter]

/*

Varall shaded his eyes as he watched the elf make a giant leap into the air, spear posed for his initial strike. below the striking blur was the tauren warrior, who was planting his hooves in the dusty earth and crossing his arms above his head in preperation for the coming blow.

The spear flashed in the harsh sunlight as it sought a way through the taurens defence, but was turned way, causing only a thin line of blood to appear on the bovinoid's arm. This sight of blood seemed to trigger the spell that the tauren had cast earlier, for he was driven into a vicious fury. Varall could see the bright red glow in those bovine eyes, even through the glare of the sun.

Varall quickly looked down the aisle to the small bit of paper they had posted to the guard rail that had the names of the contestents. It seemed that the name was Kol'... Branis? 'Damn, I can't read it from this distance'. He heard the clashing of weapons as he got up from his seat in order to get closer to read the sign more closely. He had just read the name of the high elf (Kol'Aronos) when he felt the bump of someone brushing past him.

He turned about quickly to see who had been so rude, and saw the culprit. The person, well, he assumed it was a person, was rushing away, swathed in a blue cloak. Varall shot out his hand and yanked the perpetraitor around and looked upon the face of his source of annoyance.

He had never before been so close to a high elf female before... Varall had heard the rumors of their grace, their statelyness, and most of all the strange mix of wisdom and experiance behind their eyes offset by a certain ageless look about them. For the first time in his life, he was lost for words.

This stranger looked intently at Varall, with a searching look in her eye. She seemed to be sizing him up, almost as if she, who appeared to Varall to be a relatively helpless creature (if extrodinary in appearance), was looking to see if he was worth... disposing of.

Apparently, he wasn't worth the effort.

"I apologize for our brief collision Mr... what was your name?" she spoke as if they had been introduced before and he was not a complete stranger to him.

"Varall" he replied, his usual suspicious nature mysteriously absent.

"have you been enjoying the tournament so far? I happen to know the elven fighter in the ring right now, its amusing how he has been toying with that tauren so far"

Varall was jolted out of the trance he had been in, and quickly looked back onto the field, eager for an excuse not to have to face the mysterious stranger.

It seems that Bloodlust had just worn off, for the bovine warrior appeared shrunken, small, and weak. Kol'Aronos was darting about the field, appearing almost as a blur, a relatively astounding feat considering the weight that his armor must have. Those green flecks of mana, the outward signs of Immoliation, created an interesting effect when combined with the speed, making it appear as if a glowing green comet was rocketing about, preparing to colide in a deadly fashion with the confounded Tauren.

"He has put on an impressive display so far, but there is one problem with his strategy right now, and that error will appear soon i believe" Varall commented.

The Tauren's rage seemed to be building and some of the old strength seemed to be rekindling inside of him. In a massive outpouring of magical power, the Tauren used Slam, causing Kol'Aronos to faulter in his steps and dazing him for a few moments. The Tauren quickly took advantage of this opening, swinging his mighty Axe at the vulnerable elf, but with lightning speed, the elf raised up his spear and parryed the blow. Like a serpent striking, the elf dashed close to the stunned Tauren, smashing him on the side of the skull with the flat of his spear's blade.

The Tauren went flying, colliding violently with the side of the arena, just below the place where Varall and this strange elvin woman stood, causing the stands to shake and the supports to groan under the impact. With this, the elf turned about and walked from the arena.

"Weakness in his stratagy huh?" the woman smirked" No. Varall is it? I believe that he wanted the Tauren to do that, knowing that he would think that Kol was open and strike, leaving his entire flank open"

Varall could not help but look impressed. "well, if that is the case, i admire his courage. it is not easy to survive the full blow of a Tauren Warrior, it is especially difficult to parry it without recieveing a scratch. Impressive indeed... but i dont think you ever introduced yourself"

"I am Karazai" the woman replyed with a strange smirk, "though most that know me well just call me Kar, and that elf that just won the match? he is Kol to those who know him well. You seem to have a firm grasp on battle, and certainly the build for it. I could see it in your eyes as you watched the fight"

"Yeah" Varall replyed as he watched so attendents rush out onto the field and examine the limp body of the fallen warrior, "I've had to fight all my life. That fight was impressive, among the best i have witnessed, but I think i could defeat this Kol guy"

Kar arched her eyebrow in amusement, "you really believe so? Well, we may just have to see about that after this tournament is finished. Why dont you go and sign up to be a substitute? Then, if your main person falls ill, or flees in fright, you can take his place, after of course a few quiet fights with the other volunteers for backup, you cant just walk onto the field on the recommendation of your own word"

"I didnt know they were taking Seconds. I suppose i could do that, its not as if i have anything else to do, all i have to look forward to is the search for a trade"

*/

Pherexio: Wow. You are indeed too modest for your words Count. I commend your skill in the descriptive arts. Anyways... just as a quick note... if you really care enough to bother, the ö letter is alt + 148 (on the numpad) on Windows systems; not sure about Macintosh systems, though it is probably the same.
In any case, I have a tournament to update....

(My character):
"The tauren, Marn Harbringer, had been easy enough to take down; he left himself open to Köl's tactics when he went for the drop-slash. The next fight was of little importance to Köl, but he decided to watch anyway, as he could at least judge how skilled the warriors were that way.
'Excuse me...' Köl was drawn aside by someone as the match was about to begin.
'Ehm... yes?' Köl looked at the person. The sight was awesome to him. Never in all his long years of life had he seen a creature built such as this hu--no, half-orc that confronted him now. He quickly recovered. 'Yes, may I ask your name?'
'I am Verall, I wish to congratulate you on your fight. You battle with immense skill, no doubt gathered on your long journeys.'
'Indeed; 'tis impressive to most. You look fit for battle as well. Why didn't you sign for the tournament, I didn't see you at the eliminations.'
'Actually, I didn't sign up...' he looked momentarily dismayed, '...for... personal reasons.'
'Ah, I see.' Köl said, even though he had no conception of what would prevent this kind of warrior from competing.
'Well, I was actually wondering if you knew anyone who needed a second?'
'Hmm... I'm not sure of anyone who--' He was cut off by a loud shriek from the ring. The two turned to look at what was going on simultaneously.
The elf had taken a mighty blow from the orc's axe.
'Well, maybe he could use one?' Köl said, half-inquisitively, half-jokingly.
'Your right...' Verall began to walk toward the ring, obviously volunteering to be the elf's second. He was accepted.
This should be very interesting indeed folks: orc vs. orc, and both wielding two dual-blade axes! What an interesting turn. Before we start the match, we must first inform this new orc of a few rules and priviledges he has of being the second to the newly defeated, so we will be moment.' the announcer beckoned Verall over to him so that he could "explain things;" most likely the division of prize money and the rules he may have missed from not signing up.
At the same time, assistants from the tournament staff were trying to drag the elf to the healing fountain in town, but his heavy cloak and armor were making the going difficult. He was bleeding profusely from a wound on his side.
'What are you fools doing!? You! Get water from the fountain, you two, lay him on his side, with the wound facing up!' Köl was barking at them; he felt he had to help, otherwise he was certain the elf would die. He began casting healing spells. The sounds of metal-on-metal from the ring told him the fight had begun.
This healing would take skill: the blade the orc wielded was obviously poison-coated. It violated the rules, but Köl was positive that Verall would be more than enough to teach the cheating beast a lesson in combat.
The assisstant arrived with the water a few moments after he began sprinting for it. Köl would not be able to watch the fight, as he would be spending nearly all of the time between that fight and his next insurgence into the ring trying to save the wounded elf."

Heh... I'll post a different character's point of view until it's Köl's fight again; I don't think there'll be any oddly important things happenening during a healing. Well, Fight on!

im sorry that im posting without story advancement, but i must share this frustration. i had written 3 pages of story, when my IE froze and i had to restart.... i cant remember being that frustrated in a long time

Wow, teneur2g.... Now I actually laughed about that....

Throll - Thrall........ man at least get a creative name...

wow,

this is good and keeps on getting better and better.

keep up the good job :D

i would join in but i'm a bad story teller and would ruin it.

Actually deathlegionaire, I'm some kind of beginner too. I've written stories, yes. But not many people read it but I'm sure my ideas are good.
teneur2g, not much creativity in that one too. Get a name not crafted from names in warcraft or even starcraft, get one of your own. The rest is up to you.
Count is definitely a good story teller! He should have joined earlier then.
And moon lunatic, I was going to do that. The printed prize is a great lot but there is a hidden prize too. That's how all the quests will begin!
I won't update cuz I would need to describe the battle and I don't know Count's character well. Just arrived home!

Pherexio: Man count, that really sucks. Happens a lot to me for some reason. That's why I copy-and-paste my writing out of the post box into wordpad and save it before I press submit.

No one's updated it... and I'm out of ideas at the moment (it is kinda hard to detail a battle with a character you don't know well in it....).

Anyways, maybe I'll have some flash of inspiriation later today.

Happened to me only once. I remembered most of it but three pages! That's out of my reach... and my memory! :o
That's right. Perhaps I'll attempt to do it when I have time. Tomorrow most probably. I wanna know what Varall has as ressources in a battle! ^_^ I'm waiting, Count!

sorry, ive been gone at the state latin convention for the past 2 days, so i havent been able to write anything. Just for future reference, Varall doesnt believe in the use of magic, but, though he doesnt realize it, he uses certain types of magic. He has endurance aura from his father's side, devotion aura from his mother, and, when he is desperate, he uses Roar without realizing its magical properties. These Auras only trigger themselves when battle begins, and manifest themselves as a feeling of warmth.

/*

Varall strode onto the field, confident that he would be able to defeat this opponent. Before entering the arena, he had glanced over at the bracket to see the name of his opponent, Vole Nacrothos. It seems that he was taking over the fight just to face an unknown, but Varall supposed that he had to start somewhere. In compliance with a small bit of advice that Kar had given him, he carried with him a small bottle of water from the foutain of healing in the center of town, just in case he wounded his opponent beyond the threshold of normal healing.

Varall came to a halt before Vole, and he breathed in the stale air, it seemed as if the winds of the land ground to a stop as soon as he had entered. He heard a soft snort of indignation from his opponent and Varall knew what it meant. Offended to face a halfbreed Varall supposed, but no matter. Vole will learn respect by the end of this battle.

Varall's gaze fell upon the axes that his opponent was drawing from the belt loops where he had hung them while waiting for Varall to opproach.

"Half-Breed!" the orc opposite Varall yelled. "What are you, an orc or a human! parents couldnt make up their minds? What, was your father a stupid, puny goblin?"

A heated rage was begining to build inside Varall, and a warmth was spreading through him, down to the tips of his fingers, seeming to suffuse the air about him. Varall could see the shivering waves of heat emanating from the him into the air about him. He could see the judge, standing to the side, raise up a cone of paper to his lips.

"May the match.... BEGIN!!!"

Varall sprang forward, axes raised. Even through the battle rage that was infusing Varall, he could see the glint of panic enter the orcs mind, and Varall knew that Vold had just realized what a deadly opponent he would be.

Vole dodged to the side, bring his own axes to bear. Varall saw the oily glint on the blades of his opponent that was the tell-tale sign of poisons, but no matter, Varall was not planing to be cut. Varall turned just in time to block the swing that Nacrothos had just used, and he quickly brought his free axe up to attack the open side. Vole twisted his torso just out of reach, causing Varalls axe to merely scratch Nacrothos' side. Vole quickly backed up to recover from those few moments of intenisty.

Varall wasted no time though, taking that moment where Vole was recovering to bring both blades to bear. he chopped down aggressively, aiming to get at Vole's arms, but again Vole lurched backward, just in time to dodge those blades. Varall saw Vole shoot out his leg, trying to catch him off guard, but the half-orc saw it coming. dropping his left axe to the ground, he grabbed the incoming leg and swung his opponent around and released him, sending Vole flying into the side wall.

Varall scooped up his dropped axe as he leaped high into the air, coming crashing down before Vole. Vole had stood again, and, with a stupid grin, pointed to Varalls left hand. It was swelling up, and was begining to turn a purtrid purple. Varall looked down at Vole's leg and saw a small metal band, covered in thorns glistening with that same greasy oil. Varall had lost feeling in that hand, and dropped his axe. he felt a fire in his veins, slowly creeping up that left arm, and in that fire's wake there was both pain and numbness.

Vole seemed to have lost his axes during his flight, but he raised both of his fists and stood in what looked like a fighting stance.

Vole launched his REAL attack. it was a flurry of fists, and it was all Varall could do to repel each thrown punch. With every second one more punch got through, and Varall became that much weaker. This barrage came at Varall for what seemed like an eternity, but after a few moments, Varall jumped back, escaping that attack for a precious few seconds. Varall opened up the pouch on his belt that held the water from the fountain. He drank it down, feeling the poison purge itself from his body, and he felt himself regain the use of his arm.

Varall ran forward to the waiting Vole, and smashed him accoss the side of the head, and a loud crack was heard in by all in the audience. Varall looked down and saw the orc on the ground, head twisted strangely on the body. With this sight burning in the back of his mind, Varall turned and left the grounds.

*/

sorry ppl.... i was really tired. i got no sleep this weekend.

Pherexio:
Me either; been moving too much stuff.
Anyways...

(Kar's Character):
"Kar looked on as Verall left the arena. The assistants rushed over to Vole, the loser by immobilization.
Vole screamed with pain when the referees and assistants attempted to move him. Kar heard an audible graon from Köl. He must have agreed that Verall did a little too much to Vole, even though Vole had used poison.
Verall was a skilled fighter, and a strong warrior no doubt, but he seemed to have no grasp of magical power. That would be a great encumberence to him if he had to face Köl, and by the looks of the tournament chart, he would. The next fight would be between Siroff and the gnoll, Joro Mannor. Kar was itching with anticipation for the fight.
'Your attention please!' Silence was beckoned for, and everyone looked at the source of the shout. The man Köl had been chatting with before was standing on the stage. 'The remaining bouts for today will have to be called off, due to circumstances beyond our control. You will not be charged for the additional time of the tournament, as per the usual, and the Golden Jug will be handing out one free drink to everyone in attendence as payment for the inconvenience. We are sorry for the delay, but we are unable to move the injured from the field. We would also like to ask, that anyone capable of healing magics or concoctions would please stay and help, we would be very appretiative. Thank you, have a nice day.'
Kar was dissapointed. On her way to the ring to help the healers, she caught part of a conversation between two of the assistants.
'...he just keeps getting more and more bold every year.'
'Well it is his tab those drinks'll be put on, hope he can foot it.'
'Oh he can foot it, he's won every tournament so far for the past eight years, he's rich enough to buy the whole town!'
'yeh yeh...'
They walked out of earshot.
Kar could hear the groans and shrieks as she approached. 'This'll be a while...' She sighed and asked what she could do to help."