ForeverGinger

Perdric nods as news of the couple's union reaches his ears, "Well, I s'ppose I'll 'ave 't steal ye two somethin' noice then!"

Name: Perdric Wanderwine Esq., Friend of the Molefolk, Purloin-er of Shiny Objects, Almost-Drood and Defeater of the Kitty-Men

Gender: Male

Age: Fifteh' somethin'

Religion: Old Knoxist

Where do you live? (If Willow Hollow Which Burrow): Some burrow, most do

Perdric Wanderwine grins as he reads the note "Alrigh', I' wusn't me this time!"

Accepted! Welcome aboard!

((I suppose there's no harm in this!))

+1

((Join Wanderwines, not Peregrins!))

((JK I love you Andy don't hit me))

Accepted! Welcome aboard!

The Wanderwine Family

The Wanderwines are the copper-headed travelers of the Halfling race. Ever wondering what lies over the crest of the next hill or what sits in the next locked safe, this family never seems to stay in one place for long. Founded in Athera by Perdric Wanderwine, a notorious spinner of yarns and purloiner of unprotected goods, the family moved on to great things, such as aiding in the Defeat of the Boggle Wolf, raiding the castle of The Sky Giant and even a (very) short stint as mayor!

Culture and Tradition:

Wanderwines have an affinity for stealing…or rather, borrowing. While many Hobbits won’t shy away from thievery every once and awhile, these mischievous folk bring it to an entirely new level. To them, every heist is a work of art, to be lovingly planned and thought out from every angle. However, woe betide one who steals from a Wanderwine, lest they wake up to an empty house.

While many of the Wee Folk retain a strong sense of community, the Wanderwines hold family ties above all else. Due to the unscrupulous nature of many of its members, the family will look after their own and form tight-knit sects wherever one may find them. Friends of the clan may find themselves ‘adopted’’ by the family, being dubbed cousin, uncle or grandfather by members.

Appearance:

The Wanderwines boast an imposing height of roughly two-and-a-half feet, quite useful when wiggling through an open window, or escaping a hungry Orc. Their feet may appear large by any other standard, but among Hobbits, they are a bit on the small side.

They have a light to mid tan complexion, veering towards the whiter spectrum. Atop their heads and feet sit a wooly tangle of ginger hair, ranging from dark red to coppery orange. It isn’t unheard of for members of the family to bear small amounts of facial hair, as lovingly groomed moustaches and goatees are common among the male members.

Religion:

The Wanderwine Family doesn’t have any central form of religion, but there is an ever-expanding list of superstition that many members of the family hold dear. Different sects may have their own unique set of taboos, but there are three rules that every proper Wanderwine abides by:

1. Listen to your elders, they’re older and smarter than you are!

2. Never ever EVER steal from another Halfling.

3. If something is stolen, leave something in return.

Remember, each Wanderwine is unique in their own beliefs! They hold no official deity, but there is a strong undercurrent of Knoxism running through many members of the family.

History:

Being a relatively new family, the Wanderwines don’t have much in the way of an official history. Instead, each member records their own interpretation of their life which is held as gospel. Once finished, these biographies are kept in a safe, secret location known by the oldest and wisest of the family, to be retrieved only when they are needed.

Personal Sagas will be recorded below for any who are interested!

(Family Tree coming sooooooon)

Past and Present Members:

All members tagged missing exist chronologically, but don’t have players to play them! PM ForeverGinger if you are interested in playing a missing family member!

Elders:

Perdric Wanderwine (Active)

Ringo Wanderwine (Missing)

Wanderwines:

Lilly Wanderwine (Active)

[More to come!]

Application:

Reply to this topic with the following application if you want to create your own branch of the family!

Username:

Character Name:

Physical Description:

Lineage (Shoot ForeverGinger a PM if you need assistance linking your character to an existing family member):

[Additions will be made, so be on the lookout for more Halfling shenanigans!]

Lee gazes upon the smoldering ruins of the grand effigy. He gives a short sigh before bowing his head and retiring to his burrow. The Old God was good enough for his father, and he supposed it must be good enough for him as well. 

Without a doubt +1

The spirit of Ja'Ketzawl sighs as it gazes down on the procession below from its perch among the stars. "Thees ees wut thee Kha' weel become? A pack uuf savages lead by aw torturer awnd aw sneak?" He shakes his head sadly "Where ees Rameethar...?"

Well, I think Ketzy's pretty dang dead...

((Or maybe Metztli will reincarnate me as a Halfling... Who knows!))

Oh dear... Well, that happened to all my nice and neat lore! Tl;dr Ketzy died, was poisoned by Mukar. Love you all!

    Ja'Ketzawl sat alone in his room beneath the Temple of Metztli, the faint glow of candlelight sending shadows flickering through the room. The wizened Kha' glances over to the large star-chart set above the desk, before returning to his notes. A knock sounds at the door...

    Ketzawl's heart beats heavily in his chest as he opens the door, reveling the plump form of The Sage Mukar. Ketzawl gestures for the Sage to enter, his body shifting slightly to hide the contents of his desk. And so, things progress... Mayhaps a bit swifter than intended... Mukar enters the room, a large glass held in his hand. He offers it to Ketzawl. A drink, he says...

    Ketzawl takes the glass and raises it to his mouth. The acrid stench of poison rings through his nostrils. This is a shallow attempt on his life, ill-planned and ill-conceived. You would have me drink this, wouldn't you, Mukar? A faint smirk spreads across his face as he presses the glass to his lips and goes through the motions of drinking, all the while groping about for the dagger tucked hidden at his waist. This time you press your luck, Sage.

    Suddenly, quick as thought, Mukar's paw lashes out and bats at the glass, spilling the vile mixture down Ketzawl's throat and chest. The priest's eyes bulge as the concoction swiftly takes effect, liquid fire racing through his veins and into his heart. Ketzawl collapses to the ground, his legs failing him. Mukar brushes past him and leaves the room, baring the door securely behind him. His green eyes glimmer faintly as Ketzawl spasms about on the floor, watching to ensure he dies as slowly as is practical.

    How... How did he know...? Ketzawl's eyesight dims as he struggles towards his desk. His paw rests on a large bundle of rags, and he begins to tear weakly at them, uncovering a large orb of Lapis Lazuli, the azure surface broken by thick veins of gold that streak through it. Metztli, Muuna... HOW DID HE KNOW...?

    A small creak heralds Mukar as he re-enters the room. The fat priest leans over Ketzawl's slowly-fading form and gently rolls the Orb out of his reach. "The Orb! Thees orb ees drayneeg heem!" He calls out into the empty hallway. Then his eyes return to Ketzawl, eyes brimming with a wild glee, as he slips a long stone dagger out from its sheath. Ketzawl's eyes flick to Mukars face one last time, before the dagger falls, and all is black...

((Well lads, it look's like Ketzy finally kicked the bucket, along with any hopes of usurping Mukar. It's been fun hanging around with all you crazy jungle people and all your crazy jungle shenanigans! Now, I'm off to my next big (or small (hur hur, subtle hints)) adventure!))

[[OOC]]

MC Name - ForeverGinger
Skype - You already have it

Timezone - Pffft

[[IC]]

Your Name - Ketzawl
Title - Ja'
Age - 34
Subrace - Cheetrah
Housed - In the temple
Professions ((Nexus Professions)) - Enchanter, untill SOMEONE decided to nab my enchanting table... Still a bit salty...

A lost halfling spits

Title - Ja'

Name - Ketzawl

Gender - Male

Race - Cheetrah

Faith - Metztli

Age - 34

Profession - Enchanter

McName- ForeverGinger

Skype - You already have it

Timezone - EST

TS? - Yep

Oh dear...

     First of all, I would like to thank Moot for this post, which is at least the beginning of reconciliation between the offended players and Staff. To follow up, the main issue I see with the takeover of Goodborough is the fact that we were offered two choices (well, technically three). We were told to either to vassal under Oren or the High Elves at the risk of loosing our land if we refused. We decided to go under Oren, and made a post about it detailing our move. Regardless of this, our land was still taken from us, and was done all through OOC methods for that matter. That is my view of what happened, and while I do not agree that we (being the Halflings) did not handle this situation as well as we could have, neither did those who were tasked with handling this issue.

A lean, robed figure would be seen striding across the crenelated tops of the walls, his right hand alight with the silver-blue glow of Moonfire. The figure would call out into the darkness, his fist held high against the encroaching night,

"Red priest awnd eets gawd can cuum! Thee' Kharajyr weel enduur whatever theese voice throws awt theem!" 

Well... That's the issue... We were given the choices to either charter under Oren/High Elves, giving them our land, or loose it. We chose to charter to Oren, and even made a post about it. But no our land has been take away regardless...

https://gyazo.com/6da811b4a6251edfc8fadb4e13eb23a6

Could... er... Could we (meaning everyone here) try and keep this civil and non offensive? I realize that the Halflings (myself included) are upset, frustrated and feeling betrayed, and I get that! But being rude is not going to help our situation...

Reserved

The Halfling town of Goodborough is a small, peaceful place. Little people busy about with their day-to-day chores: cleaning burrows, sweeping porches and weeding the numerous fields. All is good, and all is quiet...

Until that fateful day...

It began like any other. Halflings wandered about the rolling hills and chatted with neighbors. There was much work to do, and many more who were eager to do it...

Then the magic began...

It began quiet, subtle even. A faint rumbling in the distance echoes through the village, causing wee folk to stop what they're doing and look up from their chores. What could that be, they wonder, turning to neighbor and family alike did anyone else hear that? 

They went back to their work, oblivious to the horrors that would soon come...

The roaring grew louder through the day, growing into a wild crescendo of noise. As the noise roared in the ears of the village, so did something else. A wave of magic like nothing the peaceful inhabitants had ever seen washed over the sleepy village. Magic evil in nature and vile in purpose...

The wave was heralded by the Skygods, who lead and guided this malevolent force to envelope the defenseless township.

And so, perfection came to Goodborough...

The magic seeped into hill and vale, into wood an pond like worms burrowing into a fresh corpse. The wave crashed over house and home, working a spell that entangled the very fabric of reality. Clocks ceased their ticking. Birds were caught mid-flight, frozen in the sky they once navigated so freely. The fields refused to grow, even the wind itself would not blow...

Goodborough was frozen in time, a twisted playground for the Skygods...

On a nearby hill, outside the confines of the magic, the Halfling refugees surveyed their once-prosperous village. One among them falls to his knees, and begins to sob.

"W-why? Why would ye doo this t'us?" Perdric Wanderwine crys out, peeking through his shock of bright orange hair "We did all ya' asked of us! We went undah' th' bigguns! Now we've lost evreh'thing! Where are we t' go now!?"

Who can answer that question?

((On a sad note... it seems Halflings are finished... Would any nation be willing to share a bit of land with us? Pretty please?))

May I ask, do you really need our land this much? At least give us time to move before destroying us.