Arrakis

Revision as of 13:08, 10 March 2012

Information

Arrakis' sigil

Home Realm: Dur-Demarion
Current Realm: Pelin Calenlant/Anvard
Unit: Unbarreled Feral Horde (Dead River)
Sponsor: Mekoot Lob'o
Race: Hobgoblyn
Styles: Stabbing Sword and Shield, Two Stabbing Swords, Mini-Redsword, Spear

Arrakis is a fairly decent fighter from Dur-Demarion in Nashville, TN that has since moved to Tolland, Connecticut, where he takes on all comers from any game who won't complain about him hitting them "too hard".

He takes garb and weapon/shield commissions. Contact him on the Belegarth boards or on the Pelin Calenlant board for information.

Flurby Crap

In the land of the Dead River, near the Twilight Citadel, there was born a hobgoblyn, tall and strong, unto a goblyn priestess and an ogre shaman, as is the usual way. His soul was summoned forth in a great ritual, woven together from the spirits of great fallen warriors, monsters all, to return to the world and fight once more. The priestess called him Arrakis, seeing the dance of death woven throughout the young monster's destiny. Raised in the common fashion by his goblyn mother, he learned early of majik, monster culture, reading, writing, ciphers, and tracking. When he slew his first game at 6, he left his mother's care and began his training with the warband of the Tribe of the Western Bank.

He progressed in his training rapidly, learning the spear and the longsword, but taking more especially to the sword and shield and the twin swords. He fought alongside the older goblyns by age 11 and was holding his own against the adult ogres by 16. He grew into a skillful fighter, but he felt in his heart that he was not doing enough. He felt unfulfilled.

So he left his clan on a spiritual journey, journeying deep into the mountains to meditate and hone his focus. He camped in various caves and communed with nature and the gods while killing prey for his food every other day and foraging and fishing in between. He sat for three days straight on top of one particular mountain that he named Eyeball for its clear views and sloping shape. He discovered a talent for foresight he'd never before known during his contemplations and gained much insight into the nature of the world. Soon enough, he painted a third eye on his forehead with a charcoal stick from the fire he'd made and set out for home, his purpose clarified and his focus improved. However, he grew anxious as he traveled, with strange dreams disturbing his sleep at night. When he returned from his hermitage, he found his whole village razed; everyone was dead.

He couldn't believe this; everyone he knew in the world, taken from him, ripped from the world. His mother, his father, his brothers-in-arms... He dropped to the ground, tears in his two real eyes and hate in his heart. He set to tracking the group that had slain his clan, using all of the skills he had learned in his youth, caring not that any army strong enough to kill his entire warband should be more than a match for a lone hobgoblyn. Three days and two sleepless nights later, he found them, camped in a clearing in the dark.

None of them saw the sunrise.

Arrakis woke, blinking in the early morning sunshine, left eye caked shut with dried blood. He stumbled to a nearby creek and washed the blood of dozens of elves, a few humans, and even a horse or two off of his body and shredded clothing. He was covered in small cuts and bruises, one of his hands was broken and his knuckles and fingertips under his claws were raw. He could remember only flashes of fantastic violence from the night's deeds, but it was apparent that he had not come out unscathed: the blood that had been caked over his left eye was from a slash that ran from his forehead straight down to his cheek across that eye. His vision was fine, once the blood was washed away, but he knew he'd have a new scar by which to remember the night.

He restored his washed-off Third Eye symbol with charcoal and blood and made poultices from local herbs for his wounds. Taking what provisions and loot he could carry from the bloody campsite, the homeless hoblyn found a nearby cave and set to the business of healing and repairing his gear. Within a few interminable weeks, he'd healed his wounds, sewn new clothes, and restored his weapons and shield. He wandered the countryside, catching, finding, or killing what he needed, stealing whatever he felt like, and considering his options and the nature of his life.

During his wandering, he came upon a great encampment. As he looked on from the woods, he was amazed to see monsters of all descriptions: ogres, trolls, goblyns, skaven, lizardmen, even a few other hobgoblyns, all cooking and relaxing together. Who could command such a diverse band of creatures, all brought together to war together? He approached the perimeter of the camp openly, but with caution.

Seeing the strength and organization of the band and meeting with the group's leader, the mighty goblin High Captain Izareth Voldranai ak ni Rered Naw, Arrakis was impressed. He asked to be permitted to fight with the Dead River Horde and was accepted and granted the rank of Feral. He joined in many glorious battles with the Horde and gained the respect of the monsters and the fear of the pinkies of the region. He met with other hobgoblyns, taking solace in those familiar to him, and learned much of the ways of other monster races he had not to that point been exposed to, befriending bugbears and goblyns and trolls alike.

While fighting with the glorious Horde, Arrakis met a commander, one of Izareth's elite personal guard, called Mekoot Lob'o, a lizardman. The skink was reknowned as a great soothsayer and diviner and, on learning of the young hobgoblyn's gift for foresight, took him under his scaly wing. The Mekoot taught Arrakis to better control and harness his gift, and taught him much about the ways of combat, as well. The hob'lyn learned the way of the spear and the strike-quick-and-fade-away tactics favored by the white skinks and grew ever more powerful.

Soon enough, he was ready to seek full Blooded membership in the mighty army and Mekoot Lob'o proposed him for it, taking on the role of Sponsor for the orphaned hobgoblyn.

Lord Izareth considered the hoblyn's request carefully; the monster was a good warrior, a fair smith, a decent leader, and came well-recommended. But he would need a show of proof of the warrior's dedication before he allowed Arrakis full membership in his powerful band. As a test, Lord Izareth sent Arrakis al-Shaitan of Dead River forth into the lands far away and to the north and east, past the empty wastes and beyond the lands of enemies various and sundry, to the Forests of Pelin Calenlant, there to prepare the land for the rule of The Horde. "Gather what monsters may dwell in the depths of that great forest," said the High Captain, "and menace all those who would oppose your work. Serve me well in this and your place in my army is assured."

And so he went, a lone monster, setting out to lay claim to the forest of Pelin Calenlant and make ready the way for the coming of THE HORDE.

And den you bleeding.