Name she known as : Wen Amarth

Race: Dark elf

Gender: Female

Age: unknown

Appearance: Tall, like a goddess. http://home.wnm.net/~bgriff/MW_DElf02c.JPG (The female on the left). Her dress: http://www.yosa.com/catalog/fantasy/blackmaiden1b.jpg

Skills(skilled swordsman etc): powerful mage. She can create a dragon out of magic to help in battles: http://www.freedragonpictures.com/image ... per-07.jpg (The girl is as tall as her, for size difference, which is about 5'7".)

Personality: She is very mysterious, most of those she meets end up dead, or wishing they were.

History: Unknown.

( Wow! Shall we tone it down? Well your new here so I can`t really blame you, but a dragon? And a powerful mage? Nah, the dragon has to go as your character would be too powerful and besides the whole party could be always easily spotted if they moved around with a dragon Edit the profile to your liking without the dragon )

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Fixed it, I hope its ok.

( Well actually that only fine with one condition, the dragon she creates is an illusion and not an actual one so he illusion can of course have it`s psychological effect and perhaps be a disguise for another spell in order to fool the enemies. Dragons are powerful beings usually and hard to find, impossible to tame and even more impossible to create with magic (thats playing god) Why am I saying no to a dragon? Cause that would be simply madness, none of our characters have any dragons with us and even LDMs character has it`s limitations to a reasonable degree. your character can still be a skilled magic user and rarely magic users consider needing anything else but their magic)

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Cat entered the room with an arrogant look in her eyes. Her gaze swept around the rooms occupants, as the heavy door fell into its lock behind her with a dull thud.
Her steps were unheard as she seated herself at the table, crossing her legs, and glaring at anyone who dared to stare back.
Her hair settled alomst dreamily around her shoulders, her teeth glinting a dangerous white in the dim light.

"Well..,"she murmered, touching the gold ring which had been forced through her ear as a child "This is nice... I could not have expected a more..,"here she paused again, smirking softly to herself "Dreary and desolate group of individuals."

Laughing quietly, she shook her head, and turned trying to recognise any one of the raiders.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

After the few missing raiders arrived, a man wearing black loose clothes and somewhat expensive jewelry wandered towards what someone might have called a podium. It was a plain obsidian square stone, near the wall of the room where everyone could see it. The man gazed at the raiders gathered before him quietly and with a confident, sluggish smirk on his face.

"Welcome raiders new and old, it is once more a pleasure to see so many of you gathered here. As few of might recall the last time we gathered here it wasn`t that much of a crowd as now, but never mind that.... To begin with I assume that there are some rules to explained as after all this is a business. During the journey there will be no fighting amongst each other, anyone who slays a fellow raider will be seen as a traitor and killed. A raider group doesn`t have a leader, but everyone gets to state their opinion and there is no splitting from the group.

What you find on the raid is yours to keep and there will be no fights over loot either. To put it briefly, don`t fight with your fellow raiders, take what you can and kill every foe that stands in your way.... Now then you might as well chat for a while or what ever the hell your prefer to do as I`ll inform the captain of the ship to prepare. You will be called for later on..."

The man spoke with a rather cheerful and yet serious voice before wandering out of the room. There was some muttering amongst the new raiders before everyone of them turned to whatever they were doing. Of course this speech was rather a formality, some knew it, some guessed it and some didn`t. There would be killing amongst the raiders, but the challenge was not to get caught. Morethal simply smirked at this speech and turned to stare at the other raiders. A few orcs besides him, one of ogre blood possibly, one or two dark elves, a group of humans scattered across the room and a few representer of other races.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

The female mercenary of before hadn't shifted even marginally during the stilted little speech, but she paid no heed to the cautionary words - she would not have even if they had been sincere. Stifling a yawn, she continued spinning the shuriken in the air, where it went higher and higher and eventually started performing acrobatics at a flick of her wrist. If her detached blue-eyed stare could have been described as any particular emotion, it was boredom - utter disinterest in all the others seated. Not even hostility crept into her mien, except perhaps in the spinning of the shuriken.

So it was a surprise when her voice rang out across the room, haughty and faintly sneering. "So we're to act like a nice little group of innocent raiders?" The last word added an obviously skeptical tone to her voice. "Dear me, how very quaint."

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Morethal turned his glowing red eyes towards the source of the sound like everyone else, the woman that had been throwing the shuriken around had spoken up, perhaps to seek a fight or out of boredom. Morethal hmphed and at her words loudly.

"That depends human, if your kin are even strong enough to survive the first fight with our foes then we might no longer be a nice group of innocent raiders."

He said with a confident smile and gazed at the other orcs who seemed to share the same opinion.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

(i don't know what to be! any ideas?)

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[font=Times New Roman]
Hello, I'm Amoniel
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"I agree with her. We are here because we have strength- Who would we be, if we did not use it to its full extent? Disguising ourselves as fair or," her eyes glittered hungrily over the humans" common folk... Its below me for a first."
The half elf, flicked her wrist dismissively to underline her point and stared at Morethal, daring him to answer her back.

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. O r b i s N o n S u f f i c i t .

Morethal chuckled to himself and gazed back at the half elf answering the challenge.

"I never suggested we would disguise ourselves as I myself as a warrior prefer direct action and less cowardice, I´d rather taste blood than try to hide amongst the filth."

He retorted with a wide smirk on his green face, revealing his harp teeth.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"You think humans of little skill and lesser intelligence, then?" interjected the shuriken-tossing female, her tone detached and unreadable. She did not fail to acknowledge her own predominantly human ancestry, far from it, however much she might embody the dark-elven blood that mixed with human in her veins.

Perhaps her expression was unreadable but her thoughts, for any accustomed to mind-reading, would have been vivid. This orc has underestimated the human race...the title of leader may not be his overlong.

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Morethal shot a cold stare at the woman tossing the shuriken around as she questioned his views about humans and they way she understood his words were all wrong. The humiliating loss to the human armies on the planes of Xia and Lakshama had not fainted away from his mind, it always burned his mind and that burning could be only satisfied with the blood of the good humans. If they were beaten by the humans he couldn`t claim that they were hopelessly weak, but at least he could say what he honestly thought of the blasted race that haunted his own.

"Little skill and little intelligence? No, not at all, they have their own strengths, but the human race is not accustomed to fighting. Their men go to war and most are not used to it while the rest of the cover in their villages where they can be easily slaughtered like pigs. Besides why are you concerned what I think of the human race? One orc`s stinking opinion shouldn`t worry you that much should it human?"

He retorted with a venomous tone as he examined this human more carefully.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

I would like to join.

Name: Fersin
Age: 1750
Sex: Male
Occupation: Unknown save the few odd jobs
Race: Twisted Elf

Appearance: He is tall and lanky due to his wanderings. His eyes burn in a fierce green light from the curse. He has long blond/nearly white hair.
Skills: Because of his curse, he can slowly decay both inorganic and organic materials. It's a very slow process but within five minutes, he can sufficiently render a blade useless and rot an entire arm. Ten minutes, he can allow rust to cover a piece of armour. He is also a skilled swordsman

Clothing: He wears black robes that used to have been fit for kings but now is torn and rugged. He also has special gloves that a shaman made so he could touch things without decaying them. He has no need for armour, relying on speed and agility instead,
Weapons: He carries two katana-like swords with him. He can attach them to together to form a double bladed sword but he doesn't do that often. He also has a dagger near his ankle.

History: He was born in a typical Elvish family until he was a hundred years old. He came across a cursed artifact that bleached his dark hair and turned his blue eyes into glowing green. But there was another more horrific side effect of it. He could no longer touch things without killing them. His family immediately rejected him and he run for his life. In his wanderings, he came across an Orc shaman who enchanted a pair of gloves that allows him to touch things without decaying them. The shaman also instructed him to go north to Nauskal, and Fersin complied.


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Fersin gazed at the city with some disdain as he stepped off the ship that he had traveled in to get here. He was looking for a job. A couple of hasty questions and he was answered with a formation of a raiding part in the local tavern. He found it but the tavern owner proved unwilling to allow him in. "I can't, sir," he stuttered, his hand inching to an ugly hatchet. "There's too many of them."
"Really?" Fersin said coldly as he took off one of his gloves. "I guess I'll have to kill some of them then."
"But you can't go," the owner insisted.
"Really?" Fersin said again. "And will you be the one trying to stop me."
He placed his hand on the hatchet head and watched with a cruel smile at the owner's face as the head began to rust. As soon as the grim demonstration was complete, he replaced his glove, ignored the owner, and made his way downstairs. He pushed open the door and said in a cynical tone, "I'm sorry. Am I late?"

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I was cured all right.

Morethal turned to look at the new arrival, a dark elf, this was going to be a dangerous and annoying journey, but if it meant killing everyone in this room to get closer to restoring his honour by the dark gods he would.

"Just missed the rules elfling, but as it seems clear to most of us there won`t be no heeding them, but usually recommendations like that keep everyone alive and alone none of us can survive on the main continent, no matter how strong"

Morethal growled and gazed at the two females who had risen up to question him.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"I'll thank you not to predict the terms of my survival," retorted the mercenary coolly and lapsed into silence, appraising this new arrival. Her examination lasted for a bare few seconds of disinterested observation. She was entirely unconcerned about what that 'stinking orc', as he put it, thought of the human race - but all the better to know, should she desire at one point or another to slip a knife between his ribs. Best not to underestimate Eledhe Darkstar. And those who knew it either knew it well - or knew it from beyond the grave.

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