Karturis: Difference between revisions
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I am Karturis the Dwarf. Folks call me Kart. My future is more clear to me than my past. I was born, so I am told, on the 28th day of the 9th month of Dolefaren the Brigantine |
I am Karturis the Dwarf. Folks call me Kart. My future is more clear to me than my past. I was born, so I am told, on the 28th day of the 9th month of Dolefaren the Brigantine in the year of the Iron Toad, 305 years after the victory of Lanival the Redeemer. A hairpin is the sole item I have to remind me of my parents. Ma put it in my hand just before she pushed me off the wagon that day on Clanthew Boulevard. I ask for the Favor of Everild. I have never seen a weapon I didn't admire, and my home is filled with those silent friends. |
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I ask for the Favor of Everild. I have never seen a weapon I didn't admire, and my room in the Crossing Guild hall is filled by those silent friends. |
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I am a member of The Order of the Black Fox, and must say that the Order has helped me learn and appreciate the ways of other races and professions and to accept why other guilds teach magic.. |
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Recently I had occasion to look over the side from the Open Grave, |
Recently I had occasion to look over the side from my Brigantine, the Open Grave, and this is who I saw staring back. |
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He was wearing a barbarian's black eyepatch covered in vulture feathers to simulate a bird of prey, some thick gold hoop earrings, a square cast iron skillet with a darkened oak handle, a fitted heretic black satin shirt with silversteel buttons, a Dwarven iron bracer studded with kertig spikes, a grimy steel ring bearing the crest of the Barbarians' guild, a gold ring, a tasseled indigo silk sash, a Dwarven iron skinning knife with a mikkhalbamar hilt, a soft leather sporran dangling a trio of brass-capped tassels, a Redthorne tartan kilt, a miniature oak keg with riveted Dwarven iron hoops and some Dwarven stomping boots crafted with black leather and steel soles. |
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| ⚫ | An old dwarf, a raggedly undulating scar across his cheek, shadowed hazel eyes and a scale-etched ka'hurst nose ring resembling a viper hooked through the left side of his nose. Bald he was, with dark skin, his face painted with a skull in fresh verdigris warpaint. His thick mustache was full , and he wore a full beard that was split into thirds and woven into three thick braids that hung down to his waist. Wound around each beard plait was a wide kertig ring graced with a fractured spear of night black zephyr's heart. His forearm sported a tattoo of a skeletal hand wreathed in red flames. |
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As I have said to all who listen to my ramblings, I especially enjoy cheese and turnips. Cheese keeps well in a barrel, and turnips, favored by my Tog friends, are tasty and will perhaps make me taller some day. When awake, the variety of beverages offered everywhere are appreciated, and the enjoyment they offer has yielded a modest collection of flasks, all used, that bear the memories of good ale. |
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He was wearing a barbarian's black eyepatch covered in vulture feathers to simulate a bird of prey, some thick gold hoop earrings, a dark dragonwood beer barrel with onyx-hide straps, a formidably spiked Dwarven iron pauldron secured by crossbody leather straps, a dark iron armlet engraved with aged symbols and inset with an etched crystalline sphere, a black leather vest with anchor-shaped gold buttons, an agonite dragon's talon clutching a chakrel globe, a sleeping sungold dragon curled around a huge orb of green and blue starglass, a dark snakeskin baldric fastened with a ka'hurst river boa buckle, a broad-bladed Dwarven iron voulge with a stout hickory haft, a fitted heretic black satin shirt with silversteel buttons, a soiled silk doublet, an intricate kertig bracelet studded with an ivory owl, a Dwarven iron bracer studded with kertig spikes, a gold ring, a Musparan silk belt sash with a tunneler's axe and a boarding axe hanging from it, a purple turnip-shaped gem pouch topped with verdant wool leaves, a soft leather sporran dangling a trio of brass-capped tassels, a blood-red leather war kilt tooled with Trothfang's centaur, a miniature oak keg with riveted Dwarven iron hoops and some Dwarven stomping boots crafted with black leather and steel soles. |
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Food and drink of every flavor and smell are my friends. Cheese and turnips are fuel from the gods, and frequent mugs of Dwarven ale help me see the way of it all. |
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Latest revision as of 17:56, 14 February 2024
| Karturis Ironfistk | |
|---|---|
| Status | Active |
| Race | Dwarf |
| Gender | Male |
| Guild | Barbarian |
| Instance | Prime |
I am Karturis the Dwarf. Folks call me Kart. My future is more clear to me than my past. I was born, so I am told, on the 28th day of the 9th month of Dolefaren the Brigantine in the year of the Iron Toad, 305 years after the victory of Lanival the Redeemer. A hairpin is the sole item I have to remind me of my parents. Ma put it in my hand just before she pushed me off the wagon that day on Clanthew Boulevard. I ask for the Favor of Everild. I have never seen a weapon I didn't admire, and my home is filled with those silent friends.
Recently I had occasion to look over the side from my Brigantine, the Open Grave, and this is who I saw staring back.
An old dwarf, a raggedly undulating scar across his cheek, shadowed hazel eyes and a scale-etched ka'hurst nose ring resembling a viper hooked through the left side of his nose. Bald he was, with dark skin, his face painted with a skull in fresh verdigris warpaint. His thick mustache was full , and he wore a full beard that was split into thirds and woven into three thick braids that hung down to his waist. Wound around each beard plait was a wide kertig ring graced with a fractured spear of night black zephyr's heart. His forearm sported a tattoo of a skeletal hand wreathed in red flames.
He was wearing a barbarian's black eyepatch covered in vulture feathers to simulate a bird of prey, some thick gold hoop earrings, a dark dragonwood beer barrel with onyx-hide straps, a formidably spiked Dwarven iron pauldron secured by crossbody leather straps, a dark iron armlet engraved with aged symbols and inset with an etched crystalline sphere, a black leather vest with anchor-shaped gold buttons, an agonite dragon's talon clutching a chakrel globe, a sleeping sungold dragon curled around a huge orb of green and blue starglass, a dark snakeskin baldric fastened with a ka'hurst river boa buckle, a broad-bladed Dwarven iron voulge with a stout hickory haft, a fitted heretic black satin shirt with silversteel buttons, a soiled silk doublet, an intricate kertig bracelet studded with an ivory owl, a Dwarven iron bracer studded with kertig spikes, a gold ring, a Musparan silk belt sash with a tunneler's axe and a boarding axe hanging from it, a purple turnip-shaped gem pouch topped with verdant wool leaves, a soft leather sporran dangling a trio of brass-capped tassels, a blood-red leather war kilt tooled with Trothfang's centaur, a miniature oak keg with riveted Dwarven iron hoops and some Dwarven stomping boots crafted with black leather and steel soles.
Altogether a fine looking fella, he was.
Food and drink of every flavor and smell are my friends. Cheese and turnips are fuel from the gods, and frequent mugs of Dwarven ale help me see the way of it all.
Speaking of ale, I must be away now for a wee drop. Perhaps my way will be more clear after a few drinks.