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Intends to learn:
WEAPON(S):Skull Crusher - A war maul
Fang - A traditional Orcish sword
Dragonfire - A blunderbuss
CLOTHING:Kerrik wears his leathers when in public places, complete with hood and mas to conceal his features, as most people are terrified of Orcs. Though he does have a dress uniform for any formal occassion when he's intended to be there for intimidation purposes, or attend Fist duties. When he knows he'll be in the thick of combat, however, he'll put on his metal chest piece, and greaves, with spiked pauldrons, knees, and toes, his stomach is often bare, as is his arms.
MOUNT(S):Whatever mount that the Slater's Fist let him use on missions
OTHER:Belt - Kerrik's belt contains many a pouch, each one having a specific item type.
Coin pouch - Kerrik doesn't have a purse like most, but a pouch attached to his belt with thick leather straps, it opens by unclasping a latch, and flipping it open.
Herbal pouch - Kerrik is a hunter, was born and bred as one, and with Slater's Fist, it's grown. As such he has a few herbs and the like for natural fixes for any ailment he, or one of his men, may endure, be it sickness, or injury.
Caltrop pouch - Often the guards wind up after Kerrik and his group, or prey needs to be corralled or slowed down. This pouch contains several tiny, spiked, metal balls for throwing onto the ground. Large enough to pierce the sole of most boot leather. It'll put a nice little hiccup in anyone's step.
At a glance, Kerrik is anger incarnate. Get to know him, and you'll find hate. He's usually quiet, though his intense stare burns into those around him. However, prove yourself to be his brother/sister, and you'll find no fiercer guardian. Outside of battle, you'll find him seething, waiting. Quiet. Listening. Inside battle, you'll find his joy. Joy for fighting, joy for killing... He mocks and jokes, plays with his prey... he's malicious, and vengeful. And with his single minded nature, there's rarely getting around that. So far, the only brothers/sisters he has call themselves Slater's Fist.
Every 500 years or so, a shaman is born within the Clan Derna.
The Chieftain of the Clan had been prepared for the coming tide. A rival clan marched into battle against them, and they stood their ground. It was his son, Kerrik's first battle at the age of twelve... and in the midst of that battle... Kerrik let fly an orb of fire, that engulfed the Chief of the rival clan... the others scattered... but Clan Derna remained. Thus began his training in the rituals of his people, which he was already accustomed to, as son of the Chief... but the Chief wished his son to redouble his efforts in the proving grounds, the Clan's fighting pits.
Kerrik was now a man, fifeteen by his people's standards. His father had drawn battle plans, recruitment had been high... and Kerrik marched off into war at his father's side... had marched right into a massacre. The Jade Empire had been waiting, when Clan Derna attempted retreat, they fell into the hands of the Goths... who showed no mercy, and offered no quarter.
Kerrik was left alone, buried beneath the weight of his blood kin... he waited, listening as scavengers at night, picked the bones clean, felt that rage boil in his gut, as he heard the humans laugh and pat each other on the back... They left his brethren to rot beneath the Green's sun... And beneath their bulk, Kerrik.
It was days before a trio of elves found the site, and heard his grunts and groans... they pulled him out, and upon seeing a bleached white orc.... well, he was shot with two arrows, and slashed by a sword... but Kerrik let out a primal cry, grabbing the nearest fool... and struck another elf, with the body of his kin... the other turned to run, as Kerrik tore the two elves apart... and ate their flesh. He hungered, and he had needed food...
He wandered the lands, searching for other orcs... and he found them. The Grikk, a monsterous tribe known for their brutality and fearsome natures. He tried to plead his case, let them know that humans had come into their lands... and he was beaten, badly. He fought back, killing one orc, and took his hammer... it was with that hammer, that he laid waste to any who got to near... but he was badly hurt already... and they overwhelmed him. They stabbed and struck at him, until he fell. And into the river he fell...
He doesn't remember how long he floated down the river, a bloody, tattered mess... but that anger continued to boil in his sleep. When he finally did awake, he smelled roasting meat, and felt warmth, and softness... his eyes opened, and he discovered that he was in a warm bed with a roaring fire in the hearth. A human nearly met his ire, but surprise stopped his attack as the man offered him food. Cooked food... he dug into it, hungrily, and the man asked for his story.
Kerrik demanded to know who the man was, and why he wanted to know... it surprised him even further when the man answered. He was Krieg Haver, Warlord to Slater's Fist, a mercenary group out of Turesh. He had seen what the Goths had done, and he had watched... he had watched the elves, and had seen how he handled himself amongst the Grikk. As such, he wanted to recruit him. Kerrik was unsure at first, but as time went on, he realized that the Fist was there for him. Like Clan Derna had been before... when his own people... the Grikks had shown him that, his own people shunned him for being Clanless... they were not united, but being a part of a Clan meant so much. They turned their back on him.
Slater's Fist did not. They gave him a new purpose. He joined, whole heartedly, claiming Krieg as being his blooded kin and threw himself into his work, learning as many new languages as he could, specifically those he'd one day destroy. But for Kerrik... Slater's Fist is his tribe, his clan... and one day, he'd find a way to unite all of his people under that same banner... or he'd destroy them.
|LOCAL TIME:||May 25 2018, 02:39 PM|
|POSTS PER DAY:||0.6|
|LAST ONLINE:||Apr 2 2018, 03:55 PM|
|YEARS RPING:||5+ Years|
|BACKGROUND:||My name is Clark, and I was named after Donnie Osmond! That said, I'm 35, and have been RPing since I was 16, starting on the infamous WebTV on a game on IRC (Internet Relay Chat). At about 20 I joined the US Army, basic in Fort Benning, GA, and got to spend a year in Kuwait, got out for about two years, missed it, joined the National Guard, went to Montana for training, then got to spend a year and a half on the Mexican border, before heading to Indiana and Kuwait. Got out, and somehow found myself in Buffalo, NY, where I am now married to a fellow RPer, and working at a Home Depot as the lead Order Fulfillment tech.
Whew, that's a lot of info, and there is a lot more to it than that, but that's the stuff most important to me. I've played religiously through it all, enjoy writing in general, I'm a gamer, and used to do Dagorhir and SCA (look 'em up), and just love anything that can lend itself a great narrative.
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