Author Topic: Fimbulvinter  (Read 70905 times)

Superfluous Crow

  • Modron
  • *
  • Posts: 1224
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #30 on: January 24, 2012, 06:30:42 AM »
 What class is Andreas? Cleric? Oracle? Inquisitor?

Also, on the subject of "Scandinavian" I find it amusing when characters in Skyrim try to pronounce Scandinavian names like Rikke ^^ (admittedly, when speaking english, we would probably put the stress in the same way)
Currently...
Writing: Broken Verge v. 207
Reading: the Black Sea: a History by Charles King
Watching: Farscape and Arrested Development

Polycarp

  • Flail Snail
  • *
  • Posts: 1743
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #31 on: January 24, 2012, 06:47:26 AM »
Quote from: Kindling
Ah, I missed the racial bonus... still though, that would leave me with a 16 12 14 10 10 10 spread where Andreas has 14 10 14 16 10 10... I think I must still be missing something. 10 points for a 16, 5 for a 14, and a +2 racial bonus is it, right?

Well, right, but you're spending it wrong.   If you bought 3 scores of 14 and added the +2 bonus to one of them to make it 16, you'd have Andreas, but you bought a 16 and spent the +2 bonus raising a 10 to a 12, which is an inefficient use of points.  Because scores get increasingly expensive to raise as they get higher, your +2 bonus is better spent raising a 14 to a 16 than raising a 10 to a 12.

Does this make sense?
The Clockwork Jungle (wiki | thread)
"The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way." - Marcus Aurelius

Kindling

  • Modron
  • *
  • Posts: 1257
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #32 on: January 24, 2012, 06:53:14 AM »
Perfect sense, thank you :)
all hail the reapers of hope

Steerpike

  • Flumph
  • *
  • Posts: 3952
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #33 on: January 24, 2012, 10:26:21 AM »
Tribes of the North

Görnings

Renowned for their especially skilled völur, the Görnings are a reclusive tribe who dwell in the depths of the Slaughterstone Mountains.  In response to Fimbulvinter the Görnings have withdrawn further into seclusion, defending their lands with isolationist fervour.  Only those who approach with clearly peaceful intentions are allowed entry into their remote settlements.  Because of their seeresses the Görnings were better prepared for the endless winter than other tribes, and as such they began stockpiling food years in advance: thus they have endured the other atrocious famine sweeping all of Midgard better than most.  Their leader, King Sigmund, is said to be old and feeble, slowly dying of a mysterious sickness invulnerable to any spell, prayer, or medicine.  His three sons effectively rule in his stead.

Like most völur those of the Görnings spend much of their time wandering the Northlands, selling their services to households and villages.  Typically accompanied by a small retinue of bodyguards, these wandering shamanesses only return to their homes permanently when they are too old to continue their travels.  During Fimbulvinter, however, these pilgrimages have ceased, and those völur travelling between settlements have withdrawn back to the Slaughterstones – though a few remain in the snows, lost in the wilds or otherwise waylaid.

Görnings tend to have red and red-blond hair and eyes the colour of the sky – various shades of grey and blue.  Their warriors traditionally wear heavy mail and favour two-handed broadaxes, and many are also skilled archers.  They are amongst the most devout folk in the North, with rituals, sacrifices, feasts, and prayers occupying much of their time; many adorn themselves with amulets and talismans – representations of Mjolnir and rune-etched stones.  Their prominent Temple honouring Odin, Thor, and Frey is one of the few large, permanent centers of worship dedicated to the old gods of the North, and the Görnlands are scattered with sacred groves, often in hidden valleys.  Because certain tunnels through the Slaughterstone Mountains lead to Svartálfaheim, Homeworld of the dvergar, Görnings have very occasional dealings with dwarfs, the maggot-folk who festered in Ymir's putrid flesh, though they find the secularism of the "black elves" disturbing.

Blóðbards

Having descended into cannibalism and depravity, the once-proud tribe now known only as the Blóðbards (Bloodbeards) after the gore that mats their hairy faces terrorize the lands between Ironwood (abode of wolves and Trollspawn) and the river Gjöll (which is said to flow into Hel).  It is said that they have forsaken the worship of the Æsir and now revere Loki and other twisted powers, that they send infant babes sailing down Gjöll as sacrifices, and that they consort with the foul inhabitants of Ironwood, striking black bargains.  Certainly they conduct raids on other tribes and kidnap travellers, taking thralls for labour and food.

The Blóðbard king is the bastard and seidman Ivar the Perverse, a sorcerer who poisoned his mother’s husband, the former king, who believed Ivar his true-born son; the murder was accomplished with the aid of a rune-graven goblet able to turn water into venom.  Ivar, whose true father is variously said to be a Dark Elf, a Hel-Shade, or Loki himself, has thoroughly twisted the ways of the Blóðbards, using wicked arts to beguile and dominate his father's jarls and other well-respected members of the community.  His corruption has spread, and now many of those under his command are warped shadows of their former selves, intent only on gratifying their animal lusts.  His feasting hall, called the Hall of Screams, is the site of obscene rites, and rumour holds that some of the thralls taken in Blóðbard raids are used by Ivar in unwholesome experiments conducted in ancient stone chambers beneath the hall.

Blóðbards are a lean, tall folk whose men inevitably sport long, frequently blood-spattered beards of fair (often white-blond) hair.  Many are heavily tattooed – once family crests and tribe symbols predominated, but now most Blóðbards have scorned tradition and mark themselves with runes to commemorate men killed, women raped, thralls enslaved, and similarly sinister deeds.  Many Blóðbards sharpen their teeth into points.  Their favoured weapons include various seaxes, halberds, and bearded axes, as well as weapons looted from the bodies of the slain.  Most wear scavenged bits and pieces of armour, though many have taken to adorning themselves in flayed human skins tanned into leather.

Hrafnii

Those who fly the raven banner and revere Odin's aspect as the Raven God before all others are known as the Hrafnii.  Marked by hair and eyes as black as the birds they take as their totem, the Hrafnii dwell in the Northeast near the borders of Kvenland, though bands ("Unkindnesses") of merchants, mercenaries, and adventurers have dispersed through Midgard.  Known for their skilled warriors and proud skaldic tradition, the Ravenfolk are also notorious for their gallows humour and their taste for treasure, an appetite which often lands them in trouble – more than a few Hrafnii thieves have found themselves declared a nidding or vargr, to be scolded and executed.  The Hrafnii king is Hrókr, a cunning man of middle years who bears the ancestral sword Cruelbeak, said to have been forged by Völundr the Smith – a strange, slightly curved blade of meteoric iron.

Like most peoples of Midgard the Hrafnii have been devastated by famine and cold.  A number have taken up as contract killers, bodyguards, hired blades, or simple bandits, though a few linger in their homelands, adorning their sacred trees with sacrifices in the form of hanged men in hopes of winning Odin's favour.  These latter dwell mostly in the fortified hill-city simply called Nest.  This now largely empty town is centred around the Tower of Wings, which holds dozens of birdcages: the Hrafnii reverence for ravens extends beyond banners and symbols, for they have trained many of the birds to carry messages.  When released from their cages far from home such ravens return to Nest, bearing scrolls round their legs.  It is said that the gothi in Nest who tend the ravens can speak the tongue of birds as well.

Hrafnii favour throwing axes, short blades, and bows.  Their arrows are, of course, usually fletched with raven-feathers.  In general they wear lighter armour of hide, though a number have acquired metal armour from the swamp-dwelling Járnmenn.  Hrafnii women are considered exotically beautiful by many because of their dark colouration, and their völur sometimes keep white ravens as familiars.

Járnmenn

Making their homes in the Fens, a series of wetlands rich in bog iron, the Járnmenn produce many especially capable smiths and consequently have become quite affluent.  Though mines are not unknown in the North, smelting bog iron is far more common, and the Járnmenn produce a great deal of the iron used throughout the North.  Contending with Fossegrim, Huldra, Bog-Draugr, Swamp-Trolls, and Will-o'-the-Wisps on a regular basis, Járnmenn are a superstitious bunch who adorn their homes with oddments of iron (horseshoes, buried knives, talismans), which they contend holds evil spirits at bay.  Their current ruler is a queen, Kelda Mosblóð – her husband, king Erik, has been missing for the last year and a half, having disappeared on a hunting expedition.  He is presumed dead, but the völur say that the portents are uncertain, and Kelda insists he is alive.

Fimbulvinter has not been kind to the Járnmenn, having crippled a great deal of commerce throughout Midgard – the Járnmenn traded their iron and weapons for many things, including food, so when trade dried up a substantial portion of the population found themselves starving.  Mosquitoes and other insects – a food source for numerous animals in the Fens – usually hatch their eggs in the spring, after the snow melts; because of Fimbulvinter, the great majority never hatched, with devastating results for beasts in the swamplands.  As a result, hunting has been limited as well.  Consequently, many Járnmenn have fled the swamps for other lands, dispersing across the North and elsewhere.

Járnmenn are a pale, large-eyed folk whom unkind people say resemble toads due to their tendency to bandy-leggedness and their swampy homeland.  Many of their hunters are especially deft with throwing spears and short bows.  Some of their less scrupulous warriors have been known to poison their weapons, an act considered extremely dishonourable by most Northmen.  Rumour holds that a secret society of seidmen thrives in the Fens, further tainting the reputation of the Járnmenn, though most consider this nothing more than wild talk.  Their habit of giving their dead to the Fens rather than burying or cremating them, as most do, has done little to help matters, however.

Austrogoths

Making their homes in the southernmost parts of the North, the Austrogoths are notable as the only tribe of Northmen to abandon the old gods in favour of the monotheistic Father, a queer Southron deity whose effeminate, perfumed priests now own substantial tracts of the Austrogothic kingdom.  Female captives taken in raids first introduced the Austrogoths to the Faith, which paved the way for missionaries.  Soon the Church had a foothold, and the Faith began to spread, culminating in the conversion of king Ælfric, called Ælfric the Lightbringer and Ælfric the Illumined (soon to be Saint Ælfric), great-grandfather of the current king, Ælfric II.  Shortly after the king’s conversion, worship of the “heathen” deities was forbidden; the sacred groves were put to the torch to be purified by cleansing holy fire and replaced by stone churches.  The völur were declared “witches” and burned at the stake, and old stories and religious teachings were co-opted by the Church, rewritten to reconcile them with the Faith.  Performing a blot or other “pagan” ritual in Austrogothic lands is now punishable by fine or even death, though many persist secretly in the old ways, mouthing the occasional prayer or leaving discrete offerings.

Since Fimbulvinter began, the Austrogoths redoubled their efforts at religious purification, holding that the endless winter, rather than a sign of Ragnarök’s imminence, is a punishment from the Father for the world’s sins: if the world is able to redeem itself in the Father’s eyes He will shine His holy light upon the land and melt the snows.  This belief has stirred many Austrogoths into a fanatical frenzy.  Mobs of frightened villagers lynch those suspected of witchcraft and heathen-worship.  Thieves, adulterers, and prostitutes are frequently impaled, drowned, or hung.  Meanwhile bands of pagan fighters leave the mutilated bodies of captured priests on desecrated altars, their ribs cut and broken and their lungs ripped out – a method of execution known as the Blood Eagle, sacred to Odin.

Austrogoths are mostly a fair-haired and pale-skinned people of sturdy build.  Swords are a far more common weapon for the Austrogothic warrior, though spears and axes still predominate; heavy mail and segmented plate armour is widely worn.  Many zealous converts wear icons of the Saints round their necks.

Kvenlanders

The eastern region of the North known as Kvenland is considered an alien, inhospitable place by most Northmen, and the Kvenlanders are often characterized as “savage bear-worshippers” and “uncouth reindeer-herders.”  With unusual shamanic traditions and little agriculture, the Kvenlanders are widely regarded as primitives, though ironically their lack of dependence on grains means that they have endured Fimbulvinter better than most – as their herds feed mostly on cold-hardy lichens rather than grass, they have managed to keep themselves reasonably well-fed.  In the furthest, coldest reaches of Kvenland legend holds that mammoths still roam.

Kvenlanders are semi-nomadic, and with the worsening of Fimbulvinter some have drifted south and west, into marginally warmer climes.  They have many sorcerers amongst their numbers, and most Northmen consider them ergi (that is, unmanly and dishounorable).  If insulted in this manner most Kvenlanders simply laugh.  Kvenland shamanism is practiced by both men and women; shamans are known to commune with spirits and animals, heal the sick, and transform into beasts themselves, amongst other things.

The Kvenlanders have a number of customs which others find disturbing.  For example, certain bands of Kvenlanders have been known to leave virgin women on mountaintops during thunderstorms; after being struck by lightning, these women return to their kindred unharmed but pregnant with what the Kvenlanders believe to be the children of Ukko, god of sky and storms.  The offspring from these pregnancies, called Stormchildren, frequently possess uncanny powers.

Kvenlanders are a quiet lot; they tend to be rather insular, rarely marrying outsiders.  Like the Hrafnii they are darker of hair and eyes, though a few have dark gold hair.  Many of their weapons are of bone and stone rather than metal, and they adorn themselves with antlers and other bone trinkets.  Interestingly, while bears are sacred animals for the Kvenlanders, wolves are hated and feared, and Kvenlanders kill wolves on sight.

Ægirians

The supposed descendents of the sea giant Ægir, the hardy folk who dwell on the shores of Gandvik (called the Bay of Serpents) are feared from Kêr-Is to Avalon.  A tribe of rapacious raiders, ruthless pirates, and bold explorers, the Ægirians frequently go viking, assailing settlements and monasteries or preying on trade routes, loading their longships with treasure and slaves.  During Fimbulvinter the seas freeze often, somewhat dampening the Ægirian's piracy.  A few bands of the fierce warriors have journeyed across the ocean to the Skræling land in the distant west, hoping to find a place free of endless winter.  The roving groups of marauders who roam the snowy wastes often include an Ægirian or two – with the seas so often frozen, many have turned bandit.  In some cases whole jarldoms have turned renegade.  Their current king, Hagbarð Isangrim, is said to spend much time in his hall brooding over past battles, too apathetic to reassert control over his wayward vassals.

The numerous thralls taken in battle by the Ægirians form a considerable part of their communities; in many cases thralls who have been freed remain in Ægirian villages, having grown accustomed to life amongst their captors.  Fir Bolg, Southrons, Thules, Skrælings, Hundings, Beormas, Neuri, and many other peoples labour for the Ægirians, though during the desolation of Fimbulvinter many have fled, escaping captivity in the chaos of this slow, cold apocalypse.

Ægirians claim to have jötunn blood, and their great height and tendency to brawny muscularity corroborates this boast.  By turns mirthful and cruel, light-hearted and vicious, the Ægirians are mostly fair-haired or brown-haired, with pale eyes of green and blue and slate grey, the colours of the sea.  They favour war-hammers, heavy axes, and (for those of sufficient status) swords of various types.  The strength of their greatest warriors is the stuff of legend, and many berserkers can be found amongst them, a manifestation of what they call their "giant's temper."

Gyllirings

The Golden People, named for king Gyllir Greatmane, inhabit the great plains of Vigrith, where (it is said) the final battle at Ragnarök will occur.  Often called the Horse-Masters, the Gyllirings are a tribe of herdsmen and farmers widely famed as the best horsemen in the North, if not all of Midgard; few foes can stand against an onslaught of their cavalry.  As breeders and traders they became a wealthy tribe from the sale of their beasts.  During Fimbulvinter hundreds of Gylliring horses have died of famine and exposure, and hundreds more have been butchered for meat to feed the starving populace – without a proper harvest in two years the Gyllirings are suffering intensely, their grain stores growing as meagre as their herds.  The towns and villages of the plain now echo with the panicked neighing of dying beasts, a horrible chorus born on the icy winds that ripple over Vigrith; it is said that the wraiths of these slaughtered steeds haunt the plains at night, returned from the grave as Helhests bent on trampling their killers beneath their demonic hooves.

The Gyllirings are also troubled by packs of enormous wolves from Ironwood, which borders their lands.  Though such beasts have always plagued them, since Fimbulvinter began packs of these monstrous beasts have been growing larger and bolder, attacking horses and people alike.  With an abundance of money but dwindling horse-herds, the current king of the Gyllirings, Geirmund Greatmane, has declared that any man who brings a wolf-pelt to Hófnirhöll, the Hoof-Hall, will be paid good silver for it.  This bounty has attracted swarms of adventurers, hunters, and other travellers to the region, further destabilizing the realm – where such folk appear brawls, feuds, thievery, and all other manner of trouble likewise tends to crop up.  Shanty-towns and rough camps have sprung up across Gylliring lands, crude clusters of hide tents and hastily assembled wooden huts where hunters drink, wench, swap stories, and gamble with their newly acquired silver.

TheMeanestGuest

  • Owlbear
  • *
  • Posts: 451
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #34 on: January 24, 2012, 11:13:53 AM »
Thanks, Kindling!

And Crow, Andreas is an Inquisitor.

Your tribal groups are looking pretty interesting, Steerpike. Also, I have a question, are we using traits?
« Last Edit: January 24, 2012, 11:33:23 AM by TheMeanestGuest »
Let the scholar be dragged by the hook.

Steerpike

  • Flumph
  • *
  • Posts: 3952
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #35 on: January 24, 2012, 11:44:00 AM »
I don't think so.  I'd have to come up with a ton of my own to make that work the way I'd want it to, and to do that I'd need to detail the world pretty extensively, and to that I'd need several months.

Ghostman

  • Yrthak
  • *
  • Posts: 1550
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #36 on: January 24, 2012, 01:50:39 PM »
Katla

Background:
An imposing figure, the tall and sinewy Katla could put many a man to shame with her athletic prowess. She is a shield-maiden, a fiery warrioress determined to win her place in the halls of Valhalla. Strong-willed and stubborn since infancy, she rejected the prospect of a life as a wife and nursing mother, determined that a greater destiny awaited her. Taking up the shield and blade, she embraced the warrior's path. There were many who disapproved of her ambition, but those who dared step in her way quickly found themselves flat on the ground with her boot on their necks.

Being of the tribe of Ægir, Katla naturally took to their practice of raiding. Initially discriminated for her gender, she had to win her right to a place onboard a longship headed for Avalon by taunting the first mate into dueling her. Although the man was a seasoned raider and brawler, he gravely underestimated her, and was humiliatingly defeated before the eyes of the captain, who was quick to invite the fierce warrioress into the crew.

For many summers Katla went-a-viking, seizing plunder and honing her skills. However much she approved of her occupation, she nevertheless came to despise many of her peers. She saw that most of the pirates and robbers were base scum, honorless dogs fighting just to pay for a few days of drinking and whoring, wholly lacking the ambition for greater glory that drove her on. Katla was better than them. She would face giants and sea-trolls without fear in her heart, skalds would praise her glorious deeds in their songs, and in due time she would be drinking mead in Odin's halls, ready to take up the sword at the hour of Ragnarök!

When the Fimbulvinter set upon the lands, Katla was not dismayed as the rest of Midgard. In a strange way, she was thrilled. In her mind the bitter winter merely signaled that the end of times was drawing near. That the weak would be swept from the face of the frostbitten earth, and that the strong would be tested to their utmost ability. What better time for a brash shield-maiden to prove her mettle?

Appearance:
Katla is sturdy for a woman - some might go so far as to dub her manly (but never to her face...), and she carries her robust frame with all the pride of a seasoned warrior. Her eyes are icy, deep-blue with a disturbingly wolfish air to her stare. Her hair is unremarkable: dull-brown and braided down her back. Her attire is stoic and practical, made up of warm woollen clothes and durable boots suitable for long journeys through the roadless countryside.

Sorry but you are not allowed to view spoiler contents.
« Last Edit: April 10, 2012, 07:36:40 AM by Ghostman »
¡ɟlǝs ǝnɹʇ ǝɥʇ ´ʍopɐɥS ɯɐ I
Paragon * (Paragon Rules) * Savage Age (Wiki) * Argyrian Empire
Sorry but you are not allowed to view spoiler contents.

Xathan

  • Gelatinous Cube
  • *
  • Posts: 2211
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #37 on: January 24, 2012, 02:13:03 PM »
While I don't have much details right now, I have decided to go with the Summoner Synthesit variant we discussed via PM - I'll get a write up after I do some more for Boundless. :)
AnIndex of My Work

Quote from: Sparkletwist
It's llitul and the brain, llitul and the brain, one is a genius and the other's insane
Proud Receiver of a Golden Dorito
Sorry but you are not allowed to view spoiler contents.

Steerpike

  • Flumph
  • *
  • Posts: 3952
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #38 on: January 24, 2012, 08:45:51 PM »
Added 3 more tribes.

Kvenlander might work better for Polycarp!'s character than Xathan's, in retrospect, although there's nothing stopping the party from having two Kvenlanders...

More tribes (seafarers, horse-lords, and forest-folk for sure need to be there) to come.

Steerpike

  • Flumph
  • *
  • Posts: 3952
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #39 on: January 26, 2012, 01:13:37 PM »
Added a couple more tribes.  Anyone have any feedback on them?  My goal was to make each tribe feel distinct while also part of the same overall cultural milieu, essentially.  I hope they're all somewhat interesting.  I've still got more to add, and these are meant to represent just a handful of many tribes, the numerous petty kingdoms of the North.  For a real world comparison check out the petty kingdoms just in Norway alone during the 700s.

I've decided on a few "cosmic" facts about the world.  In this universe, Ragnarök is part of a cycle - a continuous series of worlds being destroyed and reborn, an ouroboros.  The current "iteration" of Midgard is one world in this vast cycle (we might think of the "real" world as another iteration).  Since the Norse gods and cosmology are the true ones, the same gods with the same names recur in every version of Midgard.  The details of other cultures, faiths, peoples, etc recur with less precision, since they're products of human construction rather than divine reality.

As for where clerics/Paladins/etc get their powers from if a "Judeo-Christian" God doesn't exist, I've got an explanation, but I'm going to keep it secret from most players for now (I cleared this with TMG since it might have a fundamental effect his character).

EDIT: If we were to play sometime either next week or the week after, who could show up and when?  My best days either week are Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, but I could probably swing Monday after CE, or in a real pinch early Tuesday.

TheMeanestGuest

  • Owlbear
  • *
  • Posts: 451
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #40 on: January 26, 2012, 01:28:10 PM »
Anything should work for me aside from Thursday and Friday. I vote for playing next week.
Let the scholar be dragged by the hook.

Kindling

  • Modron
  • *
  • Posts: 1257
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #41 on: January 26, 2012, 02:20:10 PM »
Ragnvaldr is definitely an Aegirian. Saturdays and fridays are a bit of a no-go for me, I'm afraid.
all hail the reapers of hope

Steerpike

  • Flumph
  • *
  • Posts: 3952
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #42 on: January 26, 2012, 02:29:34 PM »
Sundays are also possible for me.  Basically the only days that don't work especially well are Thursdays (although even then, an early game might work for me - I'm on PST, for those who don't know) and later Tuesdays, really.

O Senhor Leetz

  • Modron
  • *
  • Posts: 1025
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #43 on: January 26, 2012, 03:23:11 PM »
IC: Æskil Trollsbane

Sorry but you are not allowed to view spoiler contents.

Fate has not been kind to Æskil - now called Trollsbane. The weight of years hang heavy upon his shoulders, and the scars and lines of cruelty have been etches into his face and body. He speaks little of his past, but his hunched, solid frame speaks of many years in cold chains and dark dungeons and places where the Sun did not shine. But perhaps Fate, while unkind, has plans for Æskil. As Midgard seems to crumble, while men turn into monsters, and monsters turn into things far worse, Æskil seems to be comfortable in the deep, dark cold of the Fimbulvinter. At times, he seems to become nostalgic, perhaps remembering his past in a way only he can understand.

If life has taught Æskil one thing, it is that those who endure weather the storm. He may not be the strongest of warriors, nor the quickest, nor the most experienced, but he just may be among the toughest of warriors. With his black-iron battleaxe and chipped oaken shield, he calmly wades into battle, with a gait that is slow but inevitable.

Æskil is very broad and thick, but of average height. His age is unknown, even to him, but he has seen younge days. His long, braided beard is dark gray, as too is his long, thick hair which he keeps back with a leather band. Dark, blue eyes shine from his weathered, scar-covered skin. He usually smells of iron and earth. A single silver earring hangs from his left ear. While Æskil could pass as an Ægirian or even a Gylliring, he knows nothing of his blood.
« Last Edit: February 22, 2012, 03:14:52 PM by Señor Leetz »
Let's go teach these monkeys about evolution.
-Mark Wahlberg

Xathan

  • Gelatinous Cube
  • *
  • Posts: 2211
    • View Profile
Re: Fimbulvinter
« Reply #44 on: January 26, 2012, 03:49:54 PM »
I've got the stats for my summoner (synthesist) but absolutely no concrete background down - hope to have that soon.
AnIndex of My Work

Quote from: Sparkletwist
It's llitul and the brain, llitul and the brain, one is a genius and the other's insane
Proud Receiver of a Golden Dorito
Sorry but you are not allowed to view spoiler contents.