Raglin

[size="5"]Thalgrin[/size] Nicknames: Thal. Age: Young dwarven adult. Gender: Male Race: Dwarf (Mountain/Cave Halfbreed) Status: Alive Description Height: 4 feet, four inches. Weight: 215 pounds. Body Type: Muscular, very broad and thick. Eyes: A very bright blue. Hair: Coal black. Skin: A light tanned color. Markings/Tattoos: Wears the Edgehand insignia on his right arm. Health: Very healthy. Personality: Overall friendly, but often grim and thoughtful. Inventory: Carries his heavy one-handed warhammer. Further Details: Learning Fire Evocation. [size="3"]Life Style[/size] Alignment*: Neutral Good. Deity*: Dungrimm. Religion: Brathmordakin. Alliance/Nation/Home: The Company of the Brotherhood of the Chalice. Job/Class: Warrior. Title(s): The Justiciar. Profession(s): Fighter, soldier. Special Skill(s): Very minor fire evocation (learning). Exquisite weapon handling. Flaw(s): May be too bold, or too headstrong for some situations. [size="3"]Magic*[/size] Current Status: Learning, progressing. Arch-type: Arcane. Sub-Type: Fire Evocation. Rank: T2, (Started at about T2, due to his IC extended time with Baldir Toov's teachings.) Weakness(es): Still new to the magic, is often fatigued by the conjuring. Strength(s): Understands fire with a great knowledge, due to his being a smith. Current Spell(s): Sparks, and small flames. [size="3"]Weaponry[/size] Fighting Style: One-handed weapons. Primarily his warhammer. Trained Weapon: Warhammers, swords, axes. Favored Weapon: His hammer. Archery: Terrible at it. Biography Parents: Father- Raglin Edgehand Mother- Unknown Siblings: N/A Children: N/A Extended Family: The Toovs, adopted. Pet(s): N/A History Thalgrin was born to the clan lord Raglin Edgehand, raised in the Edgehand Clan Hall beneath the mountains of Kaedrin. His father was quick to raise the boy as a hard, strong lad. When his father died, the young dwarf was left with not but Baldir and Tanith Toov to raise him. Baldir Toov, a strong and hard man, raised the dwarf as a fine warrior, training him with hammers and axes. When he had finally grown his beard, the dwarf set out into the world to learn of its secrets. For two years he explored Anthos, visiting places such as Kal'Azgoth, Kaedrin, Malinor, and many others. During his travels, he learned of the mysteries of the arcane, and began to seek out those that would teach him such powerful magic. His journey took him to the dwarven library, where he found the records of his clan's bloodline. Thalgrin, raised to believe most dwarves could not learn magic besides the Ironguts, was surprised to see the strange, mixed bloodline of his father. Irongut and Grandaxe blood alike ran through his veins, which merely boosted his confidence in becoming the magic wielding warrior he would hope to be. When he returned to his home with the Toovs, Baldir (who knew the ways of fire evocation) agreed to mentor the dwarf in his magics. He now continues his studies to this day. Artwork

Thunder struck the sky, piercing the pitch black of night like a dagger. A dwarf was silhouetted against the sky as lightning flashed brightly behind him, eyes as blue as sapphires shone in the darkness for a brief moment, before he entered the shelter of a forge. Warmth surged over him like a wave as he stepped inside, the light finally traveling over his features. His skin was a gentle tan, the perks of youth showing along his thickly bearded face. Bushy eyebrows furrowed together over a slightly crooked nose, whiskers as dark as coal glistened in the firelight. He was a dwarf of thick stature, but not from the comforts of luxury. He was sinewy, his arms baring sword scars, and a particularly large clan ink marking along his right bicep. He wore a simple tunic and thick leather boots, all topped with a worn cloak. An old man stood over the forge, his eyes squinting at the newcomer. "Wot d'you want, eh? I'm all closed for t'night." He grumbled, laying his hand on a dagger at his belt. "Ah believe ye'll work fer me, mister." A large pouch of gold was set before the old blacksmith, which produced a very toothy grin from the old fellow. "Heheheeee! Aye, aye! Whateeer ye wunt!" The blacksmith said happily. In turn, the dwarf threw a small blueprint to the smith. "A hammer. Have it done by the end of the week." Came a gruff order from the dwarf. "Let's see... Birch hilt, easy enough.. Silver filigreed into the butt end, easy...bear engraving on the head... Steel-reinforced stone for the hammer itself? Tougher, but manageable..." The old man rambled on, even after the dwarf began to leave. Before he did, though, the old smith called out. "Er, wots your name?" "Thalgrin, son of Raglin." He said, as he disappeared into the storm. (( Since some of my good friends are returning, I've decided to come back to the good ol' love of LOTC. I hope to help make the server better in any way I can, even if that means just making fun walk up RPs and enjoyable storytelling more abundant. This character is the son of my former character, Raglin. Perhaps you'll find him along your travels! ))

More letters are found amongst the stash. To Roggar, You were a fine neighbor! I had one of me kin leave you a big apple pie for yer clan! I hope you will remember me as not only a fiend, but a brother. To Aengoth, I leave you the fate of the clan. Do with it what you wish, old friend. I know you'll make the right choice. To the remaining Roses, Only good tidings and fair roads I wish upon you all. You've been through hell and back. There's a world out there for you to discover. Don't let anything get you down. To Avern'len, My long-eared friend! I wish you a happy life with your child and wife. Never let your birch tree fall.

(( Not sure. May pass it on to Aengoth, I believe. ))

Raglin hacks and coughs in his chair, blood splattering over his beard and chest. He heaves and pants, looking over his home in Hyrr. He calls for a fellow Edgehand, who takes him to Kal'Azgoth for the last time. The old, sick dwarf looks fondly upon Raglin Road. "Ah hope me name'll be remem-ACK-bah me..." The dwarf heaves up more blood, slowly climbing the steps into the city. So beautiful, the snow powdering his hair. He breathes a clear breath, smiling. Raglin falls to his knees, holding his hands aloft. His eyes swell with tears, his mind flashing through images of his time in this world. Asulon; his many years in Kal'Anart and battle in the Dwarf Orc wars. His friends he had met, the love he had felt. Anthos; his time amongst the Rose and the dwarves alike, staying friend to both no matter the situation, deep down. Raglin slumps against the stone, clutching a pile of letters against himself. He died there, his eyes drifting closed. These letters were addressed to his friends. To Baldir, You'll always be bigger than life, friend. Wether in spirit or in body. I only wish you the best in your endeavors. Don't forget your short friend. To Tanith, Your beauty is deeper than the flesh, lass. Your kind heart can light even the darkest of places. Take care of that boy of yours. To Arthal, Keep up the good work, boyo. Grow a beard for your old pal, yeah? Miss ya. To Mayirr You were a grand friend, and I only hope that you meet your goals in life. And don't stop giving 'em hell. To Bazian, You're perhaps one of my oldest friends. I only hope ye keep my name living, old boy. I can never thank you enough for the kindness you've shown me. To Nalro, Hey, lad. Keep up that genius work. I've left some ideas imprinted inside this. Take care, bud. To the Dwarven King, I want meh statue! Haha! (( I am leaving LOTC, for real this time. I've loved my times on the server, you all will hold a special place in my heart, trust me. I thank all of you out there for making this place great. Take care! ))

Raglin coughs haggardly, blood splattering in front of him, over his beard. The dwarf heaves and pants for breath.

Raglin Edgehand watches Thomas limp within the castle from a perch on high. He shook his head, sighing. "Age and wounds seem to strike even the strongest of men..." The dwarf muttered, as he began making his way home. No more would he and Thomas charge into the fray together. It was a grim thought, and a sobering one. The dwarf had become more reclusive of late, and if one is wandering about in Hyrr, they'd likely catch the sound of a hard, wet cough from the dwarf. Oh, how he misses the old days.

Raglin nods slowly. "Ah may not beh fighting, but damn it all, the dwarves best put up a good scuffle."

Raglin hears word ofthe speech, as he leans forward in his throne, pondering. "Ah know quite a few dwarves who would take up Horen on tha' idea. Thorin's got shet comin for him eit'er way."

Watched this all transpire as he turned away from the scene, the keep of Hyrr loomed before him, casting a shadow over his eyes. He closes them, whispering. "It begins. My very soul torn apart by this..." He reopens them, whiping a tear which had shed in the thoughts of what seemed like his very livelihood split in half. "Please, by Yemekar, by the Ruhn, let this end swiftly, for I fear if not, it'll end me." The dwarf walks slowly into the keep.

Raglin leans back into his throne in the Edgehand Clan Hall, rubbing his forehead slowly. "No... Dis is nae gud fer anyone. They'll rage war until it tears them apart." He shakes his head, closing his eyes. He was split between the Rose and the Dwarves. And so would stay out of the conflict altogether.

Stares at the petition, then promptly shouts at Hunwald. "OI. SIGN MEH UP." He then learned how petitions work, and signed it himself. He walks off to go treat his beard with coconut oil.

Raglin chuckles. "Well, dat'll do it." He shakes his head, laughing. "Those fellers need 'tae best dwarven archer in tae world teh help 'em." He leans back in his chair. "Ah await 'teh bird."

Raglin sits in his sacred forge, his chest bleeding through his vest. The blade lay in its sheathe now, on the stone pedestal. He panted, looking over the strange weapon. "'Dis....'dis is insane." He stumbles away, moving to find bandages and salves for his wounds.

MC Name: The_Ranger44 IG Name: Raglin Edgehand Hold: Hyrr Race: Dwarf Position in Dwarven society: Clan Father

Nikolai arrives, grinning. "Ah, comrades. Come, we shall drink! And off to find our friends, da?" The massive man laughs heartily.

The Kozileks ~Who are they?~ ((Totally Not Russian)) The Kozileks are a group of people from the far north. Akin to the dwarves, these men and women prize their booze, their brawling, and everything between. Generally, they tend to jump into affairs not of their own, which often leads them into trouble. But they don’t often find themselves in situations they can’t get out of. The Kozileks tend to often start brawls and fights all over Anthos. But no matter the conflict they’re in, whether or not they started it, they’ll definitely mean to finish it. This group is often seen handling bandits and criminals in their “own” way. This usually includes throwing them in an arena with one of the Kozileks, and letting hell loose. Despite their often crazy habits, the Kozilek people tend to do what they can to ensure that the “good side” makes it through. Their view on who is “good”, is usually up to how they feel that day. Kozileks are well known for their exceptional brewing skills. Legend goes, they’ve even made a dwarven brewmaster pass out from their alcohol. Amongst brewing, their hand-to-hand combat is one of their highest regarded traits. They prize themselves on using only their fists, which are often gauntleted or braced with brass. ~Lore~ Many years ago, a large family of humans lived in Oren. They drank, they laughed, and they enjoyed life in general. But throughout the years, as war ravaged throughout the human kingdoms, they moved north, slowly growing as they did so. They formed a small village in the lands they settled in, revolving themselves around brewing. As time passed, bandits and the like began raiding the small village. Before long, their very way of life was severely at risk. The Kozileks would not stand for this much longer. Now a generally large community, they began to put their men to test in a small arena they formed just near the bar they so enjoyed. Soon, the Kozileks were near masters at fighting with their fists. But yet they found they were not yet prepared to handle the armed bandits that terrorized them. This strove the Kozileks to move onto another people, a folk that shared their interests. The dwarves. A small group of Kozileks moved into dwarf lands, seeking knowledge and wisdom from the famed dwarves of Kal’Urguan. These few Kozileks learned of the ways of brewing and brawling that the dwarves had perfected over their long lives. Not only this, but they took many notes upon the idea of digging below ground for their homes. After spending many months amongst the dwarven race, they returned to their homeland, where they promptly began to teach their brethren the ways they learned, modified to fit the Kozileks’ needs. Not long after their knowledge of fighting was acquired, the bandits’ raids lessened considerably, due to the fact that as soon as a criminal was spotted even near their village, he was swiftly beaten into a pulp by a very angry Kozilek. After solving their bandit issue, they began to focus on their buildings. The dwarves had lived so many years underground, successfully. Surely this was a wise idea for their village, they thought. And so began the long and laborious task of digging into the soul, eventually creating caverns, halls, and tunnels to house themselves in. If one visits these tunnels, which are known as the Sprawl, it is easily spotted that many hints of dwarven architecture are implemented. When the move from Asulon ensued, they were forced to leave their homeland behind them. Now, in Anthos, they’ve become small groups here and there throughout the land. But recently, a trio of their old leaders have sought to bring them back to their unified state. By doing this, they have essentially created a group of mercenaries. These mercenaries often hire themselves out as bodyguards and assassins. They often involve themselves in “dirty” business, like black market trading and the like. ~To Join~ -OOC- We do encourage making an alt for this, due to the fact that it would make more sense, and your character would already be implemented into the group ICly. But, if you have a character that is already created, and would work well with this, you will be tested IC through what is known as the “Kozilek Trials”. These will be elaborated upon in-game!

Welcome, kin! Nice tuh have ye! (Yes, your last name will change! And I'll show you the clan hall in-game tomorrow if you're on!)

Aye, consider yourself an Edgehand! (Go ahead and change your last name to Edgehand! Will be in-game soon to show you the clan hall.)

Raglin walks into the keep of Hyrr, lugging behind him a crate of gear. He sets it down before him, prying it open with his axe. Within, were many sets of a dull blue and chain mail uniform, light helms resting atop them. Most seemed to be fit for a dwarf, but a good few were larger sized, so that humans could wear them. Raglin nods his approval, before issuing out the uniforms to his current members. (( The choice will be given as to wether or not the helmet will be worn.)) http://www.minershoes.com/skin/view/i51a64a703200e4453029611398451624523045175 (( That's the link to the skin on minershoes. ))