Name: Pinkle
Race: A bit of brownie, a bit of a gnome, a bit of dwarf. (Confusing heritage.)
Looks: Four feet tall-ish... round and bouncy, hooked nose, happy wrinkly face, messy beard, etc. Dresses in bright colors.
Personality: Fiesty and childlike. Cheerful. Thinks of himself as quite equal with the elves.
Age: 147, but he says he's 130.
Job: Stays on with the elves as a sort of handyman.
Is that alright? We've already got a halfling, but I'm sure their personalities are quite different. (By the way, is a halfling a hobbit? I can't remember.) Do you people think I should do something else?
Goldie
"I hate the word 'Truce'. It means 'Fun's over'." ~My little sister
The man flew through the door of the tavern and skidded across the muddy street to come to a stop in a muddy puddle. People emerged from the tavern laughing. Behind them with a grim look upon his face emerged a giant of a man. He wore a knee length mail shirt and soft leather leggings. His face was half covered by the stubble of a few weeks without shaving.
Upon his back hung a large shield, at his side hung a single headed axe strange ruins that caught the light. The man in the puddle turned and looked into the face of the beast of a man. "I've been looking for you Amun. Two Bloody months to be exact you little worm!" The man's voice was gruff and deep. Pulling his axe from his side the giant looked at the man in the puddle. "Time to die!" The axe thudded down and landed in between the mans eyes. The onlooking crowd had suddenly became silent.
Turning to them Beare raised his axe above his head, blood dripping from it down to his face. "This is a message from the Dashuben. Anyone who assists the Elves in their rebellion will be executed!" The crowd just watched him. "I am Beare and i shall return here in a months time. Anyone who is willing to assist me in my hunt for traitors should be organised. You will be paid handsomely!"
With Beare set off towards the edge of the town away from the corpse and the stunned crowd. Beare knew when he returned there would be at least five men ready and willing to join the Dashubens forces.
(Halflings have a different personality to hobbits, love anything of value, charismatic, mischievous and adventurous. Think D&D style. I'm changing the scene cuz I was one minute late ...)
Flin wandered through the trees, moving quickly and quietly. His kukri, a short con-curve blade, was strapped to his side. Elves wandered through the village on their way to chores. Flin, of course, didn't have to do washing. His winning grin and large eyes made sure of that.
He wandered to another clearing, and stashed his pocketed goods into a tree. It was a game in the community, Flin would pocket anything he could, the villagers would pretend to get angry, and eventually they would get them back.
With many mock-threats, of course.
"A knife, two bracelets and a Gryphon feather. I think I'm losing my touch." He grinned, And continued on his way to the meeting.
It's not easy having a good time. Even smiling makes my face ache.
(Can i add another cahracter to be a community character so that anyone can take over whenever they feel like it? If not just delete this post)
Name-Symir
Race-Hhalf Human Half elf
Age-25
Gender-Male
Clothing-black tunic and black leggings.
Personaility-very cynical about life. very intelligent and has a strange view upon the world he lives in.
Appearance-Tall. well proportioned and built. Carries a bow and a sword.
Symir is despised by most humans for his heritage and the elves avoid him. Symir is a Trapper and only travels into town to sell the furs of the animals he captures. he buys arrows and some other things there. He lives in a cabin deep in the forest where he grows all his own vegetables. Symir despises humans after they killed his mother.
Pinkle gave a huff, rising from the flowerbed and using his sleeve to smear sweat from his eyes. He'd finally finished grappling with those blasted weeds in the side bed. Now he searched his satchel of tools for his spade.
"Eh!" He thought to himself, "I hope the lady of the house won't object to my helping meself to the water in the well. I'll get a nice cool drink, I think... an' maybe I'll dunk me 'ead in the water, too. I'm sure they won't object. Hoo, couldn't I use a drink! ...as soon as I find my spade."
His fingers searched the satchel again. No spade.
He sat back on his heels and slapped the ground.
"Blast that cheeky halfling! Pinchin' me tools, the nerve of him!"
And up leaped Pinkle, tottering purposefully into the forest, to find his missing spade.
"I hate the word 'Truce'. It means 'Fun's over'." ~My little sister
"You know you won't get them before next week." Pinkle jumped and looked around. He saw a small Elf standing behind him, leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed under a light cloak. She had medium-length raven black locks, some hanging over her face, silver eyes and a bow slung over her torso. Feathers were in her hair.
"G'day, Elain! What be you doing in these parts?" Elain shrugged.
"The hunt is over, the sun is up and my wanderings took me here. I did catch Flin trying to nab my silver flute."
"Oh? And what did 'e get?" Elain cocked an eyebrow.
"A slap on the hand and a glare." here she chuckled. "The little fool was under the impression that my guard was down. Been eying my flute now for days, the pest."
Pinkle nodded slowly.
"Aye. 'Ey, Elain, could you do a body a favor and go get me spade? Must watch the rest o' the tools, in case..."
"All right. And if you manage to catch Flin...with his hands full...do tell me. I won't forgive him for attempting to steal my flute."
"Aye, I will, just bring me spade!" Elain nodded. She was gone in the blink of an eye, no traces pointing to where she had gone nor where she had come from.
Let's not clutter up the thread with two sentences of chatter, okay? That sort of thing can be done in a chat room. It might be a good idea to have one character introduce the next one to the group.
~Errol~
The gathering room was well guarded by elvish troopers, but that was all part of a VIP meeting.
Errol moved towards Artalion, the only other gryphon in the room.
"Sorry I'm late," Errol said.
"You're just in time. When did you land?"
"About ten minutes ago, did my message get here?"
"Yes, I wish it were better news," Artalion grumbled. At that moment, the King entered the room. Everyone stood up. The King sat down and the room followed suit.
"Marshall Felin, how goes the war?" the King asked.
"Your Majesty, I regret to say that we've suffered a serious setback at Hemming River, the Dashuben have crossed the bridge there, but the situation is far from lost. We have a battalion of warriors that is keeping the bridgehead from expanding," Marshall Felin said.
"How bad are our losses?" the King asked.
"We're not sure at this point," Marshall Felin said.
"Your Majesty, the gryphon Errol has just come from over Hemming bridge, he has information regarding the situation there," Artalion said. The King nodded and Errol stood, rather nervous.
"Your Majesty, our losses have been severe. Hemming bridge was attacked by two battalions of heavy infantry. They were crossing unimpeded. We estimate 30-40% losses on our side. Enemy losses are unknown, but the time it took them to punch through are lines doesn't make it likely that they suffered too much."
"How can they punch through our lines this easily?"
"Your Majesty," Marshall Felin began...
"Master gryphon?" the King said, cutting off Felin. Felin sat down and glared at Errol, which made him even more uncomfortable.
"Your Majesty, the heavy infantry of Dashuben have the heaviest armor of the known world. It is very thick, so thick that elven arrows shatter against them. Elven armor is much thinner, which is a problem in close range warfare."
"Do we have anything that can pierce this armor?"
"No, their armor does have some weak points, but our archers can't always hit them."
"Is there any way to stop them from crossing that bridge?"
"We can destroy it, Your Majesty, but that will only delay them, it won't stop them."
"Marshall Felin, I want you to see that bridge is destroyed. I want a strategy for reclaiming our land in three hours." The King paused for a moment.
"Are there any mages or dragon riders we can call on for help?"
"Foreigners are a big risk my liege," Artalion ventured.
"I'm aware of that, but having them on our side is preferable to having them contracted out to the enemy. Besides, it would be the last thing the Dashuben would expect of us."
"We could form a team to find and meet them, I know a few people that might even be interested. Maybe even Errol would be interested in leading it," Felin said.
"Only elves of noble blood can lead such a group," Artalion countered.
"What about niece, Your Majesty?" an elf asked.
"Galina would be a good leader, she would represent Your Majesty well," another said.
There were more positive murmurs.
"Errol, bring this news to Galina and assist her in her mission," the King said.
"By your leave, Your Majesty," Artalion said. Both gryphons bowed, before leaving.
"Good work in there, the King was impressed and Felin is fuming. Felin has been bungling around since day one," Artalion said.
"What do I need to know about Galina?" Errol asked.
"She's your new boss. I don't know anything about her. You can find her?"
"I have no choice," Errol shrugged.
"Fair winds my friend, I must see to another errand," Artalion said.
"Thanks," Errol said, before going off to look for Galina.
Flin trotted down the road, searching for something to do.
"Oi! Errol!" he called, and dashed up to meet the disgruntled gryphon.
Errol sighed and turned around. "What is it now?"
"What's going on? they wouldn't let me in. Something to do with royal jewelery."Flin smiled cheekily. "Some of these elves here seem very distracted. Not that I'm complaining."
"None of your business. I'm very busy, go filch someone else's things. I hear Pinkle isnt too happy with you." The gryphon gave Flin a knowing grin.
Flin appeared not to hear this. "It's the humans isn't it? Bloody great idiots. I got a few marks out of them, before... the incident." Flin actually seemed slightly uncomfortable at the memory. "Errol, you have to let me help! I need to get back at the filthy barbarians."
Errol sighed. "You know it's not up to me."
Flin looked hurt. "Then put a good word in for me, would you?"
It's not easy having a good time. Even smiling makes my face ache.
Silently, Galina walked beside the road only feet away from Flin, and a gryphon sent to look for her. She knew more than she should from her 'ears' in the kings presence, and had always liked playing games, so she hid herself in the trees and followed them as closely as she could hoping to learn more of what was happening. But after a while became bored with her game...
" Hello Errol, you have found me "
I would rather you hate me, than love me.
If you never really know me.
