ScreamingDingo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6uVeCzUhw0 The snow dusts upon the mountains near the Imperial Camp of Angren, imperial men march around a lone Northerner, his face scarred and his hair a mess. Gerald was there, his eyes averting to the mountains ever so often, as he continued to collect lumber with his soldiers. But, something felt missing, the spark from his life felt, empty. His hands clasp together as he starts to walk around the camp, business as usual. Nothing looked amiss or astray, but everything in his mind conflicted with his current tasks. He removes his gloves, small scars torn upon them as he crosses the bridge, leading away from the camp. The sound of crows and various creatures fill the night air, as the camp sounds fade off into the distance behind him. "It has been a while, too long." The Northerner sighs, stepping onto the snow infront of him, his longsword sheathed on his belt. "White Wolf, shall hopefully call upon us soon, as I need to live up to my family's legacy." Gerald moves his feet outwards, shifting them into a relaxed stanced, his right foot infront of his left. His right hand slowly moving to the top of his pommel, the brown eyes of the northerner closing. With a small step, his right hand lashing outwards, drawing the blade in a single movement, his left hand flying forward, a rock shooting outwards to the air infront of him. The follow up is lead by the steel which reflects upon the light of the moon, it diagonally slicing the air which picked up speed. "It begins again." Sweat drips down from Gerald's forehead as he continues training, the cold weather blasting upon his body, he was refining his techniques for when the White Wolf called upon Gerald. When he needed to fulfill his duty, and continue the service of the Marked.

I'll do more crap later Character Name Camernor Par’von Nicknames: A general plethora of words which include, vigilante, barbarian and other labellings. Age: 132 Gender: Male Race: Mali’aheral Status: Alive and kicking Description Height: 6’2 Weight: 171 lbs Body Type: Broad shoulders, built better than most elves Eyes: Blue Hair: A deep blonde, some lights it may seem gold Skin: Pale Markings/Tattoos: None Health: Physically healthy, mentally, that may be up to interpretation Personality: Camernor’s personality borderlines on a few concepts, firstly his racist/supremacist outlook sets his tone to be quite condescending to the lessers (basically everyone.) Also, he cannot control extreme emotions rationally, something strange for a mali’aheral, he is prone to get enraged, and quite violent. Also, he has a concept of himself being a higher being, even compared to other mali’aheral, thinking everyone else is flawed because they don’t share his exact traits. Camernor is a sadist, and will not flinch or step back at the thought of torturing or murdering someone he deems /fit/ to be killed. Though he does not show these signs visibily. Finally Camernor is manipulative, he will twist anyone in a direction to ensure it goes towards his plan, hence why he is quite paranoid. Inventory: A small notepad, with small stains of crimson on the front. Also a longsword which he seems to adorn with him at nearly, all times. Further Details: Don’t piss him off Life Style Alignment*: Lawful Evil Deity*: Himself Religion: Self-obsession Alliance/Nation/Home: The Silver (alliance?) of Haelun’or. Job/Class: Martial trainer and lumberjack Title(s): N/A Profession(s): Currently none, the Sohaer’s personal spy and perhaps executioner at certain times. Special Skill(s): None Flaw(s): Easy to anger, cannot use ranged weapons and detests magic. Weaponry Fighting Style: Mainly using flanks and dirty tactics to place things in his favour Trained Weapon[s]: Rapier, longsword. Favored Weapon: His longsword (basically a german hand and a half) Archery: Couldn’t hit a wall infront of him with a bow Bio and crap: later

10/10. because staff bias m8

Gerald Elgan sighs as he looks over this notice he brought back to the Marked Den. His brothers gathering around him as he gestures to the note, making crude impersonations of mages. "Look at meh, I can shoot yer mother out meh 'ands!" "Oh no! Looks loike I burnt meh cawk off!" The room fills with the sound of chuckling as he turns his head towards Thersist and then The White Wolf, Adeon. "I think tis' time tah start wot da marked were created tah do, weh 'ave tah 'unt. 'unt until they plague starters are nae more!" Gerald roars triumphantly, before walking over to the mess-hall counter and grabbing a mug of Chivay ale. He swigs the mug a few times before going on to tell stories of mage interventions and discussing mage trapping techniques. The Marked Men of Oren shall smite the plagued magi with righteousness

Did you steal an extra chromosome from someone?