Porkgasm

Huckle Honepot waddled into the small Knoxist shrine in the heart of Dunshire. His movements stiff and pained, his wounds stiched closed, and his entire body sore from the troubles of the past few weeks. He sat on a pew in silent contemplation. He did not consider himself important in the grand scheme of things. He was a simple halfling, with simple hopes and dreams. A peaceful life, in a happy burrow, with a pleasant community of other weefolk to share it with. And yet...he could not help but let his mind wander to the tragedies that he has seen unfold, time and again, during his years in Dunshire. Bandits. Psychotic murderers. Troublemaking Bigguns of almost any stripe, coming into his humble community and causing chaos. Orks demanding tribute. Worse still...creatures of darkness that Huckle would be hard pressed to explain. He looked down at his hands. He left pointer finger, lopped of off when a random monstrosity in armor came to town, the finger bone resting in his Burrow, reclaimed by the Pumpkin Preacher himself. It would be a relic of his family for the rest of his days, and a reminder of how the Pumpkin Lord watches over the Halfling people. He reaches up, touching absentmindedly at the fading scars on his forehead, carved into him by a bandit. He sighed. Life in Dunshire has taken it's toll on his body, certainly. And yet, he worried more about those wounds unseen. His people are renowned for their toughness of spirit. Able to keep a positive attitude despite any troubles that beset them. Huckle sighed. He felt as if his spirit were worn down to a nub. He thought of Ley, the poor child he found wandering Dunshire, and adopted as his own. Was this truly a place where one could grow up in safety? He closed his eyes. It had taken an enormous effort of will to post a note the town boards. It had caused quite a stir in the community. Some weefolk suggested arming themselves. Others suggested moving entirely, finding shelter in one of the Biggun communities. Still, the Elder members of the town seemed to simply shrug and shake their heads, clinging to ancient Halfling tradition, determined to keep to the way of life the community always had done, regardless of the troubles these same traditions bring. Huckle did not know what to do. He would have spoken to Daisy, the Prophet O' Knox..but she had recently given birth. He respected the new mother's need to rest. So he came here, to this simple shrine of Knox, and he prayed. Prayed for patience. Prayed for peace. Prayed for Guidance. Halflings, as a whole, did not express their faith as some other people did. Theirs was a simple faith, perfect for a simple people. He laid his offering on the shrine, a bundle of wheat, laid a hand on the Pumpkin that rested on the shrine, and then slowly waddled back towards the town. Life in Dunshire would continue as it ever had. The fields needed harvesting, and Huckle would have his work cut out for him.

*A note would be posted on the town boards.* I'm Huckle Honeypot. Lived here for a few years now, and have tried my best to live a proper life. I don't make trouble. I try not to cause a fuss. I'm a simple farmer, trying to live in peace with my own people. These past few years, I have experienced troubles. Common enough for weefolk living in a world filled with Bigguns, yet it does not seem to be getting any better. It seems that I cannot even step out of me Burrow without some BIGGUN strolling into town to try and rob me, or hurt me. This past year alone, I have been attacked four times. I urge the Elders of our community to do something about these troubles. I for one, am tired of not feeling safe in my own village. My own home. - Signed, Huckle Honeypot.

IC Name: Bone'ead Race: Half-Olog. (Human/Olog) Service: Charity Worker, Butcher, Cook Why do you wish to assist the Church?: Bone'ead has a desire to belong. To help. He has heard talk of this "God" and wishes to know more. Anything else?: He is a Half-Olog, his human features mixed with Olog. OOC Minecraft Name: Porkgasm Discord Name: Bonehead#4321

Huckle Honepot waddles along, living his best Halfling life, when he stops to read a small note posted on the town boards of Dunshire. He strokes his chin as he reads it. "Awelp. Been farmin', fishin', and other such things 'ere, maybeh ah kin 'elp this fella out." He murmurs, bobbing his head firmly. In-game name : Huckle Honepot OOC Username : Porkgasm Character's Profession : Farmer Experience in said Profession : Been farming in Dunshire for a month now. Expected pay (weekly) : Whatever is fair. Due to Halfling tradition, Huckles will also accept goods as payment Why do you wish to work for "us" (optional) : I seen a few of your posts around. Seems like your putting in effort to get your estate off the ground. If I can help in some small way, I will Player activity :  Varies, but I have alot of free time.

Goodbye and good luck!

Name: Huckle Honepot Race: Halfling! Who are ye voting for Deputy?: Daisy Applefoot Who are ye voting for Sheriff?: Rollo Applefoot Anything else to add? DONT TRUST BIGGUNS!

Huckle Honeypot would Bob his head enthusiastically. "I've always said them 'arvest spirits is ah right an proper faith fer weefolk! Hurrah for tha' new prophet!" He exclaims!

Application- ((OOC)) Username: Porkgasm Discord: Bonehead#4321 RP Full Name: Huckle Honepot Age: 18 Race: Halfling Major subject: Smithing & Metallurgy Additional classes this semester (Write N/A if none): Law

Huckle Honeypot is a young, carefree halfling male born to the Honeypot family, well known Honey traders that traveled the land selling their famous honey! As a young halfling, Huckle always found himself running off to go Shogging with the other Halfling children, keen on one day becoming a professional shogger in the National Shog League, instead of being stung by bees and selling honey, as his family had always done. Sadly, during one trading venture, his families caravan was attacked by bandits, and it was only Huckle's quick wits and skill with a shovel that allowed him to escape unscathed. Sadly, his family was not as fortunate, and now Huckle must make his own way in big world...

Grume is a simple Olog, with simple hopes and dreams. Born in the War nation of Krugmar to a large family og Olog's, his younger years were filled with violence and competition, facing off against his siblings and other Ologs for the choicest meats from any hunt. As he came of age, Grume decided to leave home and find better challenges and stronger foes, keen on proving himself the biggest and strongest Olog!