[Kaz]

Per request, here you can post a profile for your character to help create a more creative and imaginative role-playing experience. THIS IS NOT A REQUIREMENT

This board is strictly for posting character profiles and there should be no other posts and discussions that are off topic. If your character has a development please just edit your original post. This can be done by clicking "Modify" on the top right corner of your post.

Let your imagination run wild and remember; this isn't a competition!

[Kaz]

Well I don't wanna hear people going "my profile is better than yours!" or "wow your character sucks". A person's character is that person's character.

[furryoldlobster]

Furry, last of the hill-dwarves.

I, Furry, son of Rolf, the barely known, cousin of Frank, the unrecognizable was raised far from the mines of Varros...

The hill-dwarves sought no treasures, unlike like their mountain mining cousins. Peaceful, but proud, they preferred the rolling black hills of Tokada, working the land, rather than digging into mountains. Although not as apt to breaking rocks, hill-dwarves are no less sturdy than their counterparts. Annual competitions are traditional part of hill-dwarf culture with such games as throw the boulder, throw the tree, throw the elf, etc. As legend has it, Gni, great-great grandfather of Furry could throw THREE grown elves at one time!

Though war was not in the hill-dwarves' vision, it seemed to seek them nontheless.  Orish attacks, lead by a masked assailant, swept the hills, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes.  To this day, it is unknown why this figure, known only as Gary, massacred an entire people. 

I, Furry, last of the hill-dwarves survive.  My father hid me behind a makeshift blind, crafted mosly from mops and buckets, but there was a cow involved.  From there, I witnessed the heroic, albeit tragic efforts, of my family, my friends, and everyone I knew. 

That was 50 anno ago.

Since then, I've learned to forage the land, become handier with an axe than any mountain dwarf can claim, even knocked out a few Elves (mostly in good fun).


My adventures brought me knowledge of a masked figure, looming near the Elven realm.  Could this be the target of my vengeance?  I seek the shelter of Varros, as well as to rally my cousins.

[Kaz]

Where to begin... Where to begin..? I guess from as far back as I know- I come from a prestigious clan of Dwarves, the Ironhearts. My clan has held great ranks among our brethren throughout history, from Lord to Royal Hand, and even King! The Ironhearts have always had outstanding loyalty and many have died in service to Varros and all Dwarf-kin.

I, unfortunately, am the last of my clan (I know, how cliche!). After being brought to The Mountain by Varros, only my grandfather remained; the others lost to the damnation and greed that befell us back in Aggarae. This was only 30 Anno ago. My father, Khaz, was lost underground when a mine collapsed on him, his remains were discovered- half eaten by rats and rotten beyond recognition..

Anyways, as last of my Clan, I must prove to be as mighty, loyal, and virtuous as my ancestors. With my recent crowning as King Under the Mountain, my destiny is near. I shall lead my kin to glory and build an Empire that will stand through the test of time! In Varros' name, this shall be done!

[Tslat]

Tslat appeared out of the shadows, carrying nothing but some potatoes.
It is said he originates from the sky, but no-one really knows for sure.

Many have attempted to track him down, but he is notoriously slippery, and unknowing creatures will occasionally stumble across him whilst exploring.

His main goal is unknown, but throughout the ages, information has been pieced together, and it is suspected that he has homes built in secrecy, though no-one has found one yet.

[Sir_Dibbler]

Dibbler awoke groggily, and found himself staring at the four travel trunks strapped to the wall in front of him. Creaking sounds inundated him, and the cot he laid pitched and rolled under him.
The Deep Mines. I remember now. Varros, what an awful night!
He slowly sat up. The mineshaft climbed and fell away into the darkness - He was in the Throughs, beyond the Lower Quarter and almost inside the capital. The air was hot and damb in the close cabin. Barely time to send word to the other Diggers. They`ll manage, might even be relieved once they`ve calmed down some. He looked around. The other two berths were empty.
Dibbler glared at the trunks. Damn, but they`d been heavy. Come close to breaking the cart`s axle.
Of course travelling alone he had none but himself to blame for overburdening the small cart so. He had come to heed the call of the Low King. To offer the services of the Diggers in his majesties endeavour to strenghten the Dwarven capital. Finally he had arrived.
If only they would grand him an audience.

Dibbler is a Digger. A deep dwarf normally tasked with cleaning out the mineshafts and tunneling new paths through the Low Kingdom.
When the call of King yellowgoat came for more manpower in the upper reaches, Dibbler felt it as his duty to conform the summons. Offering his meagre services for the greater good of the Low Kingdom, in Varros name. A middle aged dwarf of over two centuries Dibbler has had little experience with the outside world and the dangers thereof. Treating every new encounter with the same boundless optimism and diligent attitude has so far served him well but perhaps these might not be good survival traits in the dangerous world of politics and interspecies relationships he might have thrown himself into. Only time will tell if the old Digger will find a place among his people and survive the amnity of the disparate peoples of Claytonia.