Post by Rokah on Sept 3, 2014 11:08:25 GMT
Introduce Yourself
Player: Vi, Viðarr, or Rokah. Dark also works.
Gender: Male
Age: 27 Years.
Contact: Note me on here, I'll get it.
Introduce Your Character
Name: Rokah
Gender: Male
Age: 29 years
Species: Cursed Werewolf
Occupation: Herbalist / Herbal healer.
Personality: Rokah seems to be a kind man, if not a bit aloof at times. He likes his time alone in the forest collecting healing herbs. It gets him away from the noisy village and puts him in a place where he feels far more at home. He knows the dangers that lurk out there, but doesn't mind the threat that seems to constantly stalk the village of Grohiikfel. He has trained in the ways of the warrior, and knows how to protect himself if he has to, though he doesn't like having to use those abilities. He'd rather be healing than fighting, having learned the life-saving skills from an old medicine man that used to in a shack made of deer skins, bones, and antlers, far from the village. He lived off of the land, and when Rokah had ventured out of the village at the age of 19, and had been injured by a wild animal, the old medicine man took him in and healed his wounds. Scars still linger from this attack, but he is thankful for them. They remind him constantly of the things that can be overcome.
He is strong willed, hard working, brave, and very loyal to those that he comes to consider friends. He isn't afraid to speak his mind, nor tell people exactly what he thinks of them, even if they don't exactly want to hear it. If any of his patients don't follow specific orders that he's given them, they're likely to get quite a nasty surprise. Not that he'd poison them, but he'd likely give them a good dose of harsh words and maybe the addition of something that stings to their poultice, or a couple of very bitter berries to their medicine.
The only thing that seems to frighten Rokah, above all others is the thought of being inside the village on the night of a full moon. He wouldn't let anyone know this willingly, but he often strays on that night to protect the ones that he loves.
--------------------------------
Physical Description
Appearance / Markings / Body type:
Rokah is a tall man, standing at around six foot two inches tall. He has a moderately muscular build and hardly an ounce of fat on his body. Often times he meets those that say that he looks older than he really is, having deep bags under his eyes, and creases in his face that suggest a life of hard work and worry. Oddly colored silver-gray hair falls around his face, kept long and usually windswept. His facial hair is the same color, kept trimmed but not overly-so, leaving a thin, curly beard that hangs from his chin. Deep scars score over his right eye, making him appear far more harsh than he actually is. His eyes are a strange silver color, not blue, and not green, but a silvery gray that shine in the light.
He can usually be seen wearing a simple light brown tunic and deerskin pants that are laced up both sides with leather strips. A pair of well worn leather boots that are knee height and have a layer of reindeer fur around the upper rim, and hand tooled leather wrist bracers, each depicting a wolf's head with a full moon grasped between it's fangs, surrounded by leaves of all shapes and sizes. When traveling, he may also be wearing an old reindeer pelt that had once belonged to his father, clasped around his shoulders for warmth.
Height:
6' 2"
Weight:
170 lbs.
Scars or Tattoos: Scars resembling claw marks over his right eye. Bite marks on his left shoulder. Deep claw marks over his chest, stomach, and right shoulder. A curse rune carving that covers most of the center of his back. No tattoos.
Pic:
______________________________
History: Rokah has lived a life of hardship. While growing up, his parents lived on the outskirts of the village, simple farmers with very little coin to spend on luxuries like clothes or weaponry. What they had was what they could make. What they ate is whatever they could grow or hunt. His father always made sure there was meat on the table, even if there was little else.
The boy had grown up alongside his elder brother. Only a year separated them in age. They got along as well as any siblings could hope. Both having big dreams for their future. They always wanted to be warriors, and would often battle each other with sticks, branches, or whatever they could get their hands on that they could pretend were swords and shields.
At the age of eighteen, the boys had been out hunting, hoping to bring down a large deer for the family table. The hunt had taken most of the day, and thus far they hadn't found even a hair to suggest that there were any herds. It was getting late by the time they'd made camp and settled down to sleep for the night.
Noises from outside had kept Rokah awake long after his brother had fallen into slumber. The abrupt silence had unsettled him. He gathered his bow and dagger and crept away from the fire. The screech of a startled rabbit drew his attention just before it was cut short. Rokah drew his bow and crept towards the sound. A coyote? A wolf? Bear maybe? Even an owl would take a rabbit... But then why had things gone so quiet? Fear pulsed through him, though he tried to push the feeling away and stay focused.
He crept forward, taking a step nearer the bushes. A twig cracked underfoot. Searing yellow eyes pierced the darkness just before he was swept off of his feet. Pain seared through his shoulder and stomach. He cried out, but his screams were smothered by fur and flesh. Claws scored his face, raking across his right eye before a massive paw came to rest over his mouth. He struggled only to be hurled to the ground, knocking all breath from his body. His skull jarred against the trunk of a tree, blurring his vision and making it hard to stay conscious. The last thing he saw that night were those piercing yellow eyes, and bloodstained claws sweeping towards his chest.
Rokah awoke the next morning to find himself covered in blood, his own wounds dried over and already starting to heal. Pain still scored through his body, and as he moved to stand, his stomach churned and contorted. Blood and chunks of flesh spilled from his mouth as his gut emptied itself of all contents. He had been surprised to find himself nearly completely nude aside from scraps of fur and leather from his prior clothing. More surprised to find that he wasn't cold even though a good layer of frost had settled itself over the ground.
Slowly he staggered back to camp. The sight that he found there still haunts his memories.
The camp was completely wrecked. Blood smeared and spattered nearly every inch of ground. His brother's remains lay torn to shreds. Intestines and bits of internal organs lay scattered all over camp and clung to bushes. What was worse was the look on his torn face. Dead eyes reflecting fear. His mouth twisted in an agonized cry. A single scrap of leather was clutched between stiff fingers. The broken strap from Rokah's favorite bear claw necklace.
Memory of what had happened the night before flooded back in terrifying detail. How he'd been attacked and cursed, how he'd transformed under the light of the full moon and been left to ravage camp and kill his brother. The taste of his own brother's flesh.
Again his stomach tried to purge whatever was left inside.
Terrified he grabbed his father's old reindeer pelt (the only thing that wasn't covered in blood) and took off into the forest, leaving behind the gruesome scene.
He still doesn't know how long he'd stumbled through that forest, dazed and frightened, but exhaustion finally claimed him.
He awoke again in the darkness of a small hut made from the skin and bones of many animals. The scent of herbs clung heavily in the air. He could feel the sticky paste on his wounds as he tried to sit up. A ragged voice called out to him from the other side of the hut. "Steady lad... You'll have those wounds open again." He turned to see an elderly looking man dressed in tattered clothing and animal skins, mixing more herbs. The same herbs that were already in use from the smell of it.
Time had passed, and he'd gotten to know the old man, though he had never been told the man's name. He learned that the old man had been a healer in his youth, gaining the knowledge of herbs and their uses. That he had traveled to many places and had helped many people.. But that he too had been attacked and cursed.
The old man helped him through many things, and passed on a lot of knowledge, including that of healing herbs... It was only with the old man's passing that Rokah finally gathered the courage to return to Grohiikfel.
His parents had since passed away, never knowing that one of their sons had survived the attack... It was for the best though.
He made a life for himself within the village, taking up residence for a while as a stable hand, and then a tavern serviceman until he had earned enough coin to buy a cottage of his own. Now he practices as a herbalist, utilizing his knowledge of herbs to help the people of Grohiikfel when he can.
Still... He must make sure to leave the village before the night of the full moon.. And often goes out under the guise of herb collection trips.
One morning while he was out gathering herbs, he happened upon an injured baby crow. He took her in and cared for her, nursing her back to health. She learned to fly and to feed herself.. however, when Rokah had tried to release her, she came back. He tried several times, but she'd always returned. Finally he gave in, and gave the bird a name. Saga. She's been with him ever since, and they've formed a pretty strong bond. She understands many words, and is extremely smart. She tends to be extremely stubborn as well though, and often gets into trouble with her habit of collecting shiny things. She only takes commands from Rokah. She is with him at all times.. Even on full moons, though she knows to keep her distance at those times. She is a very loyal bird.
______________________________
Sample RP Post: ~~ Vi on an alternate account.
Codewords: Cross, Dot, Blue
Player: Vi, Viðarr, or Rokah. Dark also works.
Gender: Male
Age: 27 Years.
Contact: Note me on here, I'll get it.
Introduce Your Character
Name: Rokah
Gender: Male
Age: 29 years
Species: Cursed Werewolf
Occupation: Herbalist / Herbal healer.
Personality: Rokah seems to be a kind man, if not a bit aloof at times. He likes his time alone in the forest collecting healing herbs. It gets him away from the noisy village and puts him in a place where he feels far more at home. He knows the dangers that lurk out there, but doesn't mind the threat that seems to constantly stalk the village of Grohiikfel. He has trained in the ways of the warrior, and knows how to protect himself if he has to, though he doesn't like having to use those abilities. He'd rather be healing than fighting, having learned the life-saving skills from an old medicine man that used to in a shack made of deer skins, bones, and antlers, far from the village. He lived off of the land, and when Rokah had ventured out of the village at the age of 19, and had been injured by a wild animal, the old medicine man took him in and healed his wounds. Scars still linger from this attack, but he is thankful for them. They remind him constantly of the things that can be overcome.
He is strong willed, hard working, brave, and very loyal to those that he comes to consider friends. He isn't afraid to speak his mind, nor tell people exactly what he thinks of them, even if they don't exactly want to hear it. If any of his patients don't follow specific orders that he's given them, they're likely to get quite a nasty surprise. Not that he'd poison them, but he'd likely give them a good dose of harsh words and maybe the addition of something that stings to their poultice, or a couple of very bitter berries to their medicine.
The only thing that seems to frighten Rokah, above all others is the thought of being inside the village on the night of a full moon. He wouldn't let anyone know this willingly, but he often strays on that night to protect the ones that he loves.
--------------------------------
Physical Description
Appearance / Markings / Body type:
Rokah is a tall man, standing at around six foot two inches tall. He has a moderately muscular build and hardly an ounce of fat on his body. Often times he meets those that say that he looks older than he really is, having deep bags under his eyes, and creases in his face that suggest a life of hard work and worry. Oddly colored silver-gray hair falls around his face, kept long and usually windswept. His facial hair is the same color, kept trimmed but not overly-so, leaving a thin, curly beard that hangs from his chin. Deep scars score over his right eye, making him appear far more harsh than he actually is. His eyes are a strange silver color, not blue, and not green, but a silvery gray that shine in the light.
He can usually be seen wearing a simple light brown tunic and deerskin pants that are laced up both sides with leather strips. A pair of well worn leather boots that are knee height and have a layer of reindeer fur around the upper rim, and hand tooled leather wrist bracers, each depicting a wolf's head with a full moon grasped between it's fangs, surrounded by leaves of all shapes and sizes. When traveling, he may also be wearing an old reindeer pelt that had once belonged to his father, clasped around his shoulders for warmth.
Height:
6' 2"
Weight:
170 lbs.
Scars or Tattoos: Scars resembling claw marks over his right eye. Bite marks on his left shoulder. Deep claw marks over his chest, stomach, and right shoulder. A curse rune carving that covers most of the center of his back. No tattoos.
Pic:
______________________________
History: Rokah has lived a life of hardship. While growing up, his parents lived on the outskirts of the village, simple farmers with very little coin to spend on luxuries like clothes or weaponry. What they had was what they could make. What they ate is whatever they could grow or hunt. His father always made sure there was meat on the table, even if there was little else.
The boy had grown up alongside his elder brother. Only a year separated them in age. They got along as well as any siblings could hope. Both having big dreams for their future. They always wanted to be warriors, and would often battle each other with sticks, branches, or whatever they could get their hands on that they could pretend were swords and shields.
At the age of eighteen, the boys had been out hunting, hoping to bring down a large deer for the family table. The hunt had taken most of the day, and thus far they hadn't found even a hair to suggest that there were any herds. It was getting late by the time they'd made camp and settled down to sleep for the night.
Noises from outside had kept Rokah awake long after his brother had fallen into slumber. The abrupt silence had unsettled him. He gathered his bow and dagger and crept away from the fire. The screech of a startled rabbit drew his attention just before it was cut short. Rokah drew his bow and crept towards the sound. A coyote? A wolf? Bear maybe? Even an owl would take a rabbit... But then why had things gone so quiet? Fear pulsed through him, though he tried to push the feeling away and stay focused.
He crept forward, taking a step nearer the bushes. A twig cracked underfoot. Searing yellow eyes pierced the darkness just before he was swept off of his feet. Pain seared through his shoulder and stomach. He cried out, but his screams were smothered by fur and flesh. Claws scored his face, raking across his right eye before a massive paw came to rest over his mouth. He struggled only to be hurled to the ground, knocking all breath from his body. His skull jarred against the trunk of a tree, blurring his vision and making it hard to stay conscious. The last thing he saw that night were those piercing yellow eyes, and bloodstained claws sweeping towards his chest.
Rokah awoke the next morning to find himself covered in blood, his own wounds dried over and already starting to heal. Pain still scored through his body, and as he moved to stand, his stomach churned and contorted. Blood and chunks of flesh spilled from his mouth as his gut emptied itself of all contents. He had been surprised to find himself nearly completely nude aside from scraps of fur and leather from his prior clothing. More surprised to find that he wasn't cold even though a good layer of frost had settled itself over the ground.
Slowly he staggered back to camp. The sight that he found there still haunts his memories.
The camp was completely wrecked. Blood smeared and spattered nearly every inch of ground. His brother's remains lay torn to shreds. Intestines and bits of internal organs lay scattered all over camp and clung to bushes. What was worse was the look on his torn face. Dead eyes reflecting fear. His mouth twisted in an agonized cry. A single scrap of leather was clutched between stiff fingers. The broken strap from Rokah's favorite bear claw necklace.
Memory of what had happened the night before flooded back in terrifying detail. How he'd been attacked and cursed, how he'd transformed under the light of the full moon and been left to ravage camp and kill his brother. The taste of his own brother's flesh.
Again his stomach tried to purge whatever was left inside.
Terrified he grabbed his father's old reindeer pelt (the only thing that wasn't covered in blood) and took off into the forest, leaving behind the gruesome scene.
He still doesn't know how long he'd stumbled through that forest, dazed and frightened, but exhaustion finally claimed him.
He awoke again in the darkness of a small hut made from the skin and bones of many animals. The scent of herbs clung heavily in the air. He could feel the sticky paste on his wounds as he tried to sit up. A ragged voice called out to him from the other side of the hut. "Steady lad... You'll have those wounds open again." He turned to see an elderly looking man dressed in tattered clothing and animal skins, mixing more herbs. The same herbs that were already in use from the smell of it.
Time had passed, and he'd gotten to know the old man, though he had never been told the man's name. He learned that the old man had been a healer in his youth, gaining the knowledge of herbs and their uses. That he had traveled to many places and had helped many people.. But that he too had been attacked and cursed.
The old man helped him through many things, and passed on a lot of knowledge, including that of healing herbs... It was only with the old man's passing that Rokah finally gathered the courage to return to Grohiikfel.
His parents had since passed away, never knowing that one of their sons had survived the attack... It was for the best though.
He made a life for himself within the village, taking up residence for a while as a stable hand, and then a tavern serviceman until he had earned enough coin to buy a cottage of his own. Now he practices as a herbalist, utilizing his knowledge of herbs to help the people of Grohiikfel when he can.
Still... He must make sure to leave the village before the night of the full moon.. And often goes out under the guise of herb collection trips.
One morning while he was out gathering herbs, he happened upon an injured baby crow. He took her in and cared for her, nursing her back to health. She learned to fly and to feed herself.. however, when Rokah had tried to release her, she came back. He tried several times, but she'd always returned. Finally he gave in, and gave the bird a name. Saga. She's been with him ever since, and they've formed a pretty strong bond. She understands many words, and is extremely smart. She tends to be extremely stubborn as well though, and often gets into trouble with her habit of collecting shiny things. She only takes commands from Rokah. She is with him at all times.. Even on full moons, though she knows to keep her distance at those times. She is a very loyal bird.
______________________________
Sample RP Post: ~~ Vi on an alternate account.
Codewords: Cross, Dot, Blue
