the 1 bow

((Let me preface this by saying number one, if there is a more appropriate forum for this to go under, I'd appreciate it if a FM moved it. Thankyou. What this is, is a guild concept I have come up with and I am taking to you the community for feedback and a bit of criticism. Essentially what I would like to know is, is it any good, has it been done before, if things are too cliche, if things dont make sense, do I need to elaborate on certain areas, add or get rid of stuff, things like that. Im willing to answer any questions aswell. And lastly its not going to visually look pretty with colours because this is depending on feedback, a draft. Thankyou)) When a man's heart is full of deceit, it burns up, dies, and a dark shadow falls over his soul. From the ashes of a once great man has risen a curse. A wrong that must be righted. We look to the skies for a vindicator. Someone to strike fear into the black hearts of the same men who created him. The battle between good and evil has begun. Against an army of shadows come the dark warriors. The purveyors of good with the voice of silence and a mission of justice. -Words of the Society of Overseers Summary The Society exists solely to oversee the descendents and act as civilizations anchor. If any given civilization, specific or as a whole reaches the pinnacle of its decadence and turns away from the core values of justice, righteousness and what is defined as ‘good’, the Society will bring it to heel, causing its destruction. On the contrary the Society will preserve the lives of people, and civilizations untainted by evil, defending them from it. History The story of Khan Zur Enrrah League of Immortals Birth of the Society of Overseers Expanding on what is Unlike the League, the Society of Overseers has no one leader. Each member is as important that the other, although some members words may be held in higher regard due to their experience. The Society works to preserve life that is good and just at all cost and defend it from evil. Evil is intolerable and must be destroyed by any means necessary. The murder of corrupt noblemen, destruction of property used for negative means, or simply saving an innocent person from getting robbed, the Society works to preserve good, and strangle the poison out of evil. In times of war, the Society would remain neutral unless one side was clearly the aggressor. In this instance, the Society would, free of charge, without recognition aid the ‘defendants’. More often than not the ‘defendants’ would not know the Society has helped them. A democratic structure, the Society will not engage in major tasks without the consent of all members. If a member can pose a proper reason of why the Society’s hand should be stayed, then indeed it shall. If they fail, then the member must put the cause over their opinions. Ideology -Replacing evil with death is not evil -Everything but death is speculation or opinion -Do what is necessary, regardless of personal safety -Each member is less than the cause -To be a bystander of evil is to be a friend of evil -Appear strong when weak and weak when strong -Justice can be vengeance -Justice can be murder -Justice can be thievery -Justice can be destruction Excerpts from the journal of Khan Zur Enrrah

Character Name ~ Kor Urgthrok Nicknames: Kor of the low (formerly known as Krakhorn) Age: 100+ Gender: Male Race: Uruk Status: Inactive Description Height: 8ft 7' Weight: 300lbs+ Body Type: Large, broad, muscular Eyes: Pale blue Hair: Shaved Skin: Pale, sickly looking green Markings/Tattoos: Countless scars over his body, one has resulted in the removal of his left eye Health: Healthy Personality: Old school, Kor believes in the old ways of urukish society and is very close minded to new beginnings. He loaths the what the orcs have become, knowing that his people are weakened. Inventory: An old, blood covered scimitar and a bone club covered in spikes, named 'Lucille' Further Details: Walks with a slight limp/hobble after having his knee broken as a cub. Life Style Alignment*: Chaotic Evil Deity*: Krug Religion: That of the Orcs Alliance/Nation/Home: The War Nation Job/Class: Nomad/Marauder Title(s): None Profession(s): Warrior Special Skill(s): Lethal in hand to hand combat, exceptionally skilled warrior Flaw(s): Not agile, impaired vision Weaponry Fighting Style: Grounded brute force Trained Weapon[s]: Blade (Sword, knife, scimitar), club, spear, mace, hammer, crossbow Favored Weapon: His club Archery: Crossbow, adequate, bow and arrow, nay. Biography Parents: Krakhorn-father (Deceased), Grosha-mother (Deceased) Siblings: Golbon-brother (Deceased), Negrak-brother (Deceased) Drog-brother (Unknown) Children: N/A Extended Family: N/A Pet(s): Tundaztep-Warboar History Born amidst sand and dust, it is said Kor crawled out of his mother womb rather than being pulled out. He was a large baby cub, his pale blue eyes pierced who ever he gazed at. His cries echoed, sounding more like yelps of anger. Kor was the oldest of the four Urgthrok brothers, born to Krakhorn and Grosha. Grosha died in child birth to his youngest brother, Drog. Kor grew up quick, and soon became lethal in hand to hand combat. His father Krakhorn,was missing an arm. It had been taken by a Scaddernakk. The loss of his arm had made Krakhorn angry. Kor was in his mid twenties now, a fierce and well respected warrior. His younger brothers in their late, mid, and early teens. Krakhorn gathered his sons and they went on the hunt. Each armed with a spear, they would not return home for some time. Kor moved up front of the hunting party, spear in hand. He already stood well over 8ft tall, and numerous scars already graced his body. "Come on, we draw close to the sand." Kor said, half looking back over his shoulder. The brush had an eery stillness to it, and it was quiet, silent. As the party left the shrubbery, they immediately felt the sands shift. It was an awkward feeling, but a signal they had found the right location. The patriarch of the group, Krakhorn moved in front of his eldest, holding his index finger over his mangled jaw. "We move silently untill we hit the dune. Do not speak, do not make noise." The orcs crept slowly through the sands, making their way up a sand dune to get their bearings on the landscape. Krakhorn looked to his second youngest child, Negrak. "Go forth and scout for the Scaddernakk. Report if you see the sands shift." Negrak began to head off but his father stopped "Negrak, good luck." It was clear Krakhorn feared for his sons. Kor was busy paying attention to a less organic danger. "Theres a sandstorm coming father. It'll arrive before nightfall." Krakhorn grunted, driving the spear into the sand so it would stand upright. "We best be quick then my son." The two exchanged nods, and Kor walked over to Drog, patting him on the head before looking into the opposite direction. Silence, for several hours. The storm was close. Suddenly, a roar screeched across the desert. It was not the roar of an orc. Kor already had began running, his brothers and father following him. They scaled two sand dunes, to which they saw Negrak's leg caught in a small hill of sand. Blood poured from his leg, and Negrak snarled in pain. Kor sprung down the dune to his brother. The hill of sand shifted, and rose. The sand fell off, revealing a thick, black hide sprawled over a massive beast. The Scaddernakk. It had caught Negraks leg. The young orcs leg was broken, and the Scaddernakk reeled, and landed on Negrak, crushing him dead. Kor roared for his brother, throwing his spear and the Scaddernakks body. The beasts thick hide deflected the attempt, and only angered it. Kor charged the great beast as his father called him back. Kor would not listen. He flung himself shoulders first into the Scaddernakk, trying to daze it and get a foothold. The Scaddernakk easily over powered him, tossing him across the sand. Krakhorn lowered his body, and moved slowy, breathing slowly. His spear was ready to be thrown. He saw an opening, a killshot. Drog charged in, throwing off his fathers aim. He speared the distracted Scaddernakk in its underbelly, which drove the beast to madness in anger. The Scaddernakk reeled once more, preparing to kill Drog, when Krakhorn tackled him out of the way and was caught instead. The vicious creature caught Krakhorn in its mouth and began tearing into him. Drog could do nothing but watch. Kor witnessed this, just as the sandstorm reached the scenario. Kor blacked out. When he woke, he struggled to get to his feet. Kor brushed sand off him, looking around. Nothing but piles of sand. He walked over to two mounds side by side. He uncovered the body of his father, split in half by the Scaddernakk. He did the same for Golbon and Negrak, but he could not find Drog. "DROG!" Kor called out. "DROG!" he called out again. No answer. Kor brushed his hands over his bald head, had the Scaddernakk taken his family? He saw the largest mount. It took until nightfall, but Kor uncovered the Scaddernakk. It had died from a mixture of the wounds and the sandstorm. Kor was angry. He wouldnt be able to avenge his family. With his hunting knife, he carved open the beast, bathing himself in its blood. He looked himself over and noticed some fresh scars on his body aswell. Kor noticed a large bone sticking out of the beasts body. He carved it out. It was as long as a longsword. He looked it over. "Lucille." Kor named the bone after the noise the Scaddernakk made when it roared. (LOO-SEAL). Lucille would later have spikes indented into it and would become Kor's war club and weapon of choice. Kor returned to his fathers corpse. He crouched next to him, sighing. "I will take your name untill I reunite with my kin father, so that all pinkskins may know your legend. From this day, to the day I return to the orcs, I am Krakhorn, and Kor no longer." Many years later, The ground was rough and worn, a already ageing path of gravel, it was coarse under the boars feet. It trotted down no road in particular, before its reigns were pulled and it was brought to a sudden stop. The boar snorted. Its master dismounted. A pale sickly green coloured orc, over 8ft tall dismounted his beast. He was covered in scars all over his body, long a deep. The orc had an evil sense to him, it hung over him like a cloud prepped to pour rain. Grunting, he opened the bag attached to the saddle on the boar, pulling out a long brutal looking scimitar, with lines carved into the hilt. A tally. The orc then pulled out his bone club, long and wide. Metal spikes were stabbed into it, jabbing out in all directions to make the piece of the skeletal system a lethal weapon. Lucille. Wielding the scimitar in his left hand and the club in his right, the monstrous orc approached his destination and reason for stopping, a small inn, or maybe it was a tavern. Regardless, with a vicious snarl, the orc approached the establishment, hell bent on one thing. He kicked the doors open, snarling again, baring his large yellowy tusks. Covered in blood and two fresh new scars, with three severed heads attached to his belt by the victims hair, he marched back to his boar, it was a reddish brown with almost as many scars as its master. An ugly beast. The orc put his weapons back in the bag, but left the heads on his belt to send a message. He paused a brief moment, sniffing the air. His boar did the same. With a whistle, the orc ordered his boar in a certain direction and they rode off. Half a day passed. Arriving at the sands, the orc rode in slow. He found a secluded spot, and dismounted, making his own personal makeshift camp for the time being. The orc looked to his spiked bone club, 'Lucille' and sighed. "I am Kor, and Krakhorn no longer." Artwork Theme https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEFfaFGQhYw

Character Name ~ Colin Hapthoran Nicknames: The Beast Incarnate, The Walking Apocalypse Age: 51 Gender: Male Race: Adunian Status: Deceased Description Height: 6ft7 Weight: Over 100 Kgs Body Type: Large, and broad Eyes: Green Hair: Dark brown, slightly greying Skin: Pale Markings/Tattoos: Two scars on the left side of his face, protruding into his eye Health: Healthy Personality: Breath takingly aggressive yet equally obedient. After feeling like the Adunians had robbed him, his loyalty lies with Oren. He no longer holds any sort of compassion, or mercy. He is a ruthless killer. Inventory: His fathers greatsword, Wrath, a two handed warhammer and a long boning knife with a gold hilt, his Imperial Military armour which underneath he wears a set of chainmail and then boiled leather. Further Details: Has now lost his Adunian accent, and still laments his wifes death Life Style Alignment*: Chaotic Evil Deity*: The Creator Religion: Creatorism Alliance/Nation/Home: Oren Job/Class: Soldier Title(s): Decanus of the 2nd Regiment, Imperial Army Profession(s): Warrior Special Skill(s): Exceptional warrior and craftsmen Flaw(s): Slowish, easily enraged Weaponry Fighting Style: Grounded brute force Trained Weapon[s]: Sword, great sword, warhammer Favored Weapon: Great sword Archery: Little skill Biography Parents: "Bull" Hapthoran and Wylla Hapthoran (Both deceased) Siblings: Bessy Hapthoran (Deceased) Children: Geoff Hapthoran (Deceased), William Hapthoran (Deceased) Extended Family: Caitlyn Hapthoran (Wife, Deceased) Pet(s): Frostfang, Dyrewolf (half grown) History Behind the immense size and muscle, anger and ferocity, the story of Colin Hapthoran is that of Tragedy. Born in Anthos Colin's family stuck around with the general Adunian population and continued to in the Fringe. Colin was placed in the fighting pits at fourteen and quickly became a brutal and powerful fighter, and made a name for himself as someone you wouldn't want to cross. Eventually his father "Bull" decided to move the Hapthoran's to Alras as he didnt like the current state of Adunia. Colin always valued his heritage and missed his people. His sister Bessy was a miscarridge, and around the same time the plague had struck. Both his parents died in the plague. Grief stricken Colin moved with the population to Thales. It was there when he came across an Adunian encampment, lead by Artorus Elendil. Taken in and given food and a home Colin found his place. Re united with his Adunian brethren Colin was finally happy. He served them well, and swore undying loyalty to Artorus believing he was the man who would do right by the Adunians. He met a Adunian girl, Caitlyn, and the two had two sons, Geoff and William. Colin trained his sons, and lived happily with Caitlyn. Their relationship was a loving one, and they grew attached to eachother. Eventually though, the camp disbanded. It had happened overnight. Colin awoke to find Caitlyn not beside him. Alarmed, he rushed from his tent and found the camp deserted. Near the river beside the camp, Colin saw Caitlyn on her knees, crying. "Wot 'as happened?!" Colin asked, rushing over to her and grabbing her gently. "Every'uns gone. Geoff's hitched with these other 'Dunians. Williams ran off, I cant find 'im." Colin helped her to her feet. "We should go to the other 'Dunians." Colin shook his head. "No, we're goin' tae Oren." Caitlyn looked at him in disbelief. "Ye would betray yer own race Colin?" Colin stamped his foot on the ground. "I would have us live!" Caitlyn slapped him. "Tae what end? Serve'n beneath the heal of a tyrannt, no freedom, no righteousness! Is that where ye would take me?" Caitlyn began to cry once more. "I would have ye live. I would live with yer. Wherever it may take us." Caitlyn grabbed the knife on Colins belt and pointed it at her own chest. "I dont know ye anymore Colin. I cannot follow you in this." Before Colin could react, she plunged the knife into her chest, as without Colin she had nothing to live for. And without her, Colin had nothing to live for. He held her in his arms until she passed. As he left the camp, he looked back to it, and something had been broken inside him. He didnt feel sadness, loneliness, only angry. Sent wandering, Colin stumbled upon an Orenian city and on the verge of starvation, was taken in. He was recruited into the 2nd Regiment of the Oren military and swears his loyalty to them, believing his race had given him false hope. A once charming and friendly Adunian, Colin has become a menacing murderer of gigantic proportions, dubbed The Beast Incarnate for his ruthless, immoral and brutal behaviour, Colin is a truely terrifying being. Travelling down the eastern road, Colin came across three men, their faces covered with bandanas. "Why dont you put your money on the ground big fella?" One of them said, pulling out a knife. The other two followed. Colin knew he was outnumbered, even then he stood a head above the three of them. "Put your blades down, fight like men." Colin responded, holding up his iron clad fists. One of the bandana'ed men shook their head, and slashed Colin across his face. He slashed again, this time splitting Colins eye. Colin's head shook with anger, and as another one of the bandana'ed men charged for him, trying to stab him, Colin grabbed him by the throat, headbutted him and chokeslammed him to the ground. "Get the crossbow!" The other shouted, and as the last bandana'ed man ran over to a satchel and pulled out a crossbow, Colin ran at the other bandana'ed man still standing, wrapped his arm around him and began kneeing him in the stomach. As the bandana'ed man with the crossbow fired, Colin put the other man in front of him, and the bolt went straight through the mans back. Dropping him, he approached the man with the crossbow but was tripped by the man he had chokeslammed. As the one with the crossbow was reloading, the other one got on top of Colin and began punching him. But after a split second, Colin literally tore his throat out. Getting up, he walked towards the final bandana'ed man, but was shot in the shin with a crossbow bolt, causing him to drop to a knee. Two more bolts hit him, both in the stomach and the last man ran off. Colin, fueled by rage shouted "YOU FAWK'N WEAK PRICK! PRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!!!". He returned to Oren and was patched up by the good medics of the 2nd regiment Standing outside the keep, Colin recieved a letter, it detailed the death of his eldest son, Geoff, who had stayed with the Adunians after Colin had left. Geoff's death had not been pretty. Colin, once again, was stricken with grief. His first born had died. He decided to try to contact his youngest son, William, and get him to come to Tempum and join the 2nd Regiment with his father. Colin wrote his son a letter, reading William, it is your father writing to you. I do not know if you are aware, but your brother has been killed. He chose to stay with our kin instead of coming to Tempum, and his fate has been sealed. Please son, I implore you to stop running, stop vagabonding, and come to Oren. You will be serving the right people, and will be as safe as one can be these days. You will find the city by following the road near cloud temple. Your father, Colin Hapthoran, Rhoswenion of the 2nd Regiment. Colin gave the note to a courier. As he thought about it more and more, he snapped. He realised his son had no real loyalty to him, so Colin chose to not show any in return. Colin got a horse, tracked down the courier and split him in two with his great sword. Colin muttered "I have no son." as he rode back to Tempum. He was truely, a beast, with not a happy thought in his head. From then on he brutally served his Decurion, Rowan Hightower and his Emperor Robert Chivay with an iron fist and a take no prisoner attitude, being promoted to Decanus. Leaving Thales behind and sailing to Athera, when Colin arrived at the cloud temple, he got his barings and headed for Oren. On the road though, he found a young man. He resembled so much of his wife, Caitlyn, yet he had Colins muscular build. William Hapthoran. Colin called out his name. "William." He said, as if no other words came to his mind. William turned, showing a thick beard, as he did so his long dark brown hair tasseled about. "Aye thats me name, wots it tae yer?" William did not recognise his father. How could he? Colin had changed so much, some days he couldnt even recognise himself. "It is your father, William." William squinted, before widening his eyes. He knew that tone, even if Colin had lost his accent. "Father, ah...eh...whats 'appenend tae yer?" For a split second, it seemed as if William was going to run to his father to embrace, but he fought the urge. Colin wanted to try to talk to him reasonably but all he said was. "Thats Decanus Hapthoran to you boy." William was stunned. "How's Geoff?" He asked, Colin simply responded with "Dead." William's eyes slightly teared. "An' muther?" "Dead." Colin felt an anger inside of him. This was the son who betrayed his fathers wishes, this was the son who helped drive his mother to suicide. Colin drew his greatsword, and with what almost sounded like a roar, swung at his son. William parried the greatsword with his machete, but it was knocked from his hand in the attempt. William was a Hapthoran, but he was no where near as strong or tall as his father. Colin wrapped his iron clad hand around Williams throat, lifting him off the ground. "You may have my blood, but you are not son of mine!" He shouted, throwing his son across the path and onto the ground. "Father! Please!" William pleaded, to no avail. Colin Hapthoran no longer existed. He was, Decanus Hapthoran now. In a swift motion, Colin snapped his son's neck. He took from his pocket, the sketch of his wife, Caitlyn. Not a sigh, not a whimper not a sound, Colin ripped the picture up. Ave Orenia. Petrus, capital of the Imperium Tertius, Athera Anybody who passes by Colins room in the barracks of the 2nd Regiment would see his large form slumped in a chair up against a table with a quill fallen to the ground and an open book. A little trickle of blood would be seen coming from Colins mouth. For anybody who looked at the book, they would soon discover it was Colins journal. It was quite old, detailing his whole life. From when he was first placed in the fighting pits, his family moving from the Adunians to Alras, the plague hitting and killing his parents, his time reunited with the Adunians and his love for his wife and sons, and his transformation into a cold hearted Orener. A long story, a lot of pages ripped out. Only the last page would be of note. I have never had an easy life. Yet whatever joy did scrap my way, it was soon taken. Am I a good man? I serve my empire with animalistic ambition and unwavering excellence. Yet I did the same to the Adunians. My kin. I may wear the uniform of an Orener, yet I still am an Adunian, by blood. I have lived and lost in Orens cause. I sacrificed everything. My wife, Caitlyn, died because of my failing and my weakness. My son Geoff died because I was not their to protect him, and William, died at my hand. What have I become? I look into the mirror but I do not see my reflection. I see a beast. Truely then, I am a beast incarnate. Decurion Hightower has been to me what Artorus was, yet the Decurion has not betrayed me. Where should my loyalties lie I wonder. I never wanted this life. If I could do it all over again, I would have sided with Caitlyn and gone with the Adunians. Yet I have to live with my choices. I have to live with lives I have taken, the families I have ruined and murders I have committed. No longer. Decanus Hapth Colin Hapthoran Artwork *In full armour* Theme http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVVXH6nBCaA