Post by cactapus on Dec 10, 2014 20:25:37 GMT -7
Character Name: Doomspeaker
Character & Description: Gaunt to the point of emaciation, this goblin seems to favour slow, purposeful movements to the jerky, energetic nature of his kin. He's easy to tell apart from others by his morbid headgear, the skull of a fearsomely large cat. His leather armour is decorated with similar reminders of death. No longer wrought with anxiety, he's driven by a clear goal and the spirits that haunt him.
Background Information:
Doomspeaker, so named upon becoming an adult, was always known as a worrywart. Never fond of risks, and always ready to point out the dangers of any action. Little heed was ever given his way. It's a cruel twist of fate just how apt his name really was. One particular point of concern of his, that the clan loved to ignore, was his complaints about the villages location.
"All the humans have to do is send some soldiers, and we're all as good as dead! Worse, what if adventurers get it in their heads that we have something worth taking?", he asked his brother.
Deerbiter laughed, "If humans come, we'll just fight them off like we always do. Father's been making enough bows to arm everyone, and they're small enough to shoot from the back of those scary cats we've been training. It only took 3 maulings before we got them tamed enough to ride!"
Conversations with his family always seemed to go this way. Unfortunately, being right didn't exactly make him feel better. However, It wasn't guards, or soldiers, or a band of adventurers that attacked.
One sunny summer day, as Doomspeaker and Deerbiter returned to the village from a hunting trip, they heard screams coming from home. To Doomspeaker's horror the smell of blood and smoke was in the air. The village was in flames. Worse still, the dead were attacking the living, dozens of zombified goblins were devouring everything and everyone they held dear. He blacked out.
Waking up made him wish he was still unconscious. His brother was dead at his feet, with the corpse of an undead panther lying nearby, arrow in each eye.
"Don't mourn, move. This could not be avoided."
Doomspeaker must have snapped, because that was his brother's voice. Deerbiter's warning was soon joined by one from their father, mother, and every other slain member of the clan, each giving their own directions and advice. Though it was impossible to make out any one voice, Doomspeaker could unfocus his thoughts and listen for the coherent message in the noise, "It's too late for us, but we can help you." It was then that the other, very much alive, panther behind Doomspeaker made it's presence known.
"We sent him, our malediction for the one that slew us, find the necromancer, avenge us"
Crude illustration:
Character & Description: Gaunt to the point of emaciation, this goblin seems to favour slow, purposeful movements to the jerky, energetic nature of his kin. He's easy to tell apart from others by his morbid headgear, the skull of a fearsomely large cat. His leather armour is decorated with similar reminders of death. No longer wrought with anxiety, he's driven by a clear goal and the spirits that haunt him.
Background Information:
Doomspeaker, so named upon becoming an adult, was always known as a worrywart. Never fond of risks, and always ready to point out the dangers of any action. Little heed was ever given his way. It's a cruel twist of fate just how apt his name really was. One particular point of concern of his, that the clan loved to ignore, was his complaints about the villages location.
"All the humans have to do is send some soldiers, and we're all as good as dead! Worse, what if adventurers get it in their heads that we have something worth taking?", he asked his brother.
Deerbiter laughed, "If humans come, we'll just fight them off like we always do. Father's been making enough bows to arm everyone, and they're small enough to shoot from the back of those scary cats we've been training. It only took 3 maulings before we got them tamed enough to ride!"
Conversations with his family always seemed to go this way. Unfortunately, being right didn't exactly make him feel better. However, It wasn't guards, or soldiers, or a band of adventurers that attacked.
One sunny summer day, as Doomspeaker and Deerbiter returned to the village from a hunting trip, they heard screams coming from home. To Doomspeaker's horror the smell of blood and smoke was in the air. The village was in flames. Worse still, the dead were attacking the living, dozens of zombified goblins were devouring everything and everyone they held dear. He blacked out.
Waking up made him wish he was still unconscious. His brother was dead at his feet, with the corpse of an undead panther lying nearby, arrow in each eye.
"Don't mourn, move. This could not be avoided."
Doomspeaker must have snapped, because that was his brother's voice. Deerbiter's warning was soon joined by one from their father, mother, and every other slain member of the clan, each giving their own directions and advice. Though it was impossible to make out any one voice, Doomspeaker could unfocus his thoughts and listen for the coherent message in the noise, "It's too late for us, but we can help you." It was then that the other, very much alive, panther behind Doomspeaker made it's presence known.
"We sent him, our malediction for the one that slew us, find the necromancer, avenge us"
Crude illustration:
