| Tiberius Ravenchild This information is all IC and all things that you would know if you've had any amount of conversation with Tiberius, either because they're visible traits or because he's eager to talk about certain parts of his past. Tiberius Ravenchild was a young warrior and priest of Humact, housed and employed by the Temple of Humact in Grantabrugge and tasked with...well, doing Humacti things, like being honest and ensuring people get put in their graves without taking a walk first. Being new to this whole concept, the other priests of the Temple (and a couple of his Wallachian comrades) were attempting to train him. He never did work out why Humact awakened him, but sincerely expected it to be some form of vast, cosmic practical joke. He grew up in the city and had not, in fact, ventured beyond the city walls till the morning after he was awakened; given the cross-section of the quaint village life he experienced that day, he doesn’t feel like he’s missed anything. His parents died when he was a child and he spent his formative years in a Vivamortian street gang, struggling to survive by engaging in petty larceny whilst simultaneously being a pretentious goth and hanging out with proper necromancers. Generally well-meaning but quite young (about 18 years old, he thinks) and naive, he was entirely caught up in a variety of innocent delusions about the lives of heroes and those in service to the gods. His main goal was, until he started frequenting the Wessex Arms, to find ever new and more interesting ways to show off to girls, and as such was often loud, brash and self-aggrandising; however, for all that this was his goal, he'd never met with much success and so a girl that isn't treating him with contempt would terrify and confuse him in equal measure. Having spent most of his life focusing on keeping himself and his friends alive, he'd never really had time for the luxury of having principles, or taking sides; as such, he would rarely be welcoming or aggressive to anyone based on their race, religion or similar, but equally was less likely to stand up and fight for any given cause purely on principle. |  [Artwork] by POrange | |
 | The Rise and Fall of Toby Dumpling Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum. | |
| Tiberius cradled his face in his hands, trying desperately to clear the fog that muddled his thoughts and clouded his sight. Visions of battles past, friends new and old, places that were and are and may yet be swam through the rapidly shifting confusion of his mind's eye. Through the cloying mist, he struggled to make out where he was, but of one thing he was certain - he, and his friends, were in great danger. They had come to this place seeking a powerful foe, summoned here from foreign lands by the naive experiments of a Wallachian compatriot; it was their task, and theirs alone, to slay the beast and return it to its watery grave. Was it that same foe that had conjured the dark power that now slowed his mind? It was so hard to think, so hard to see...No, wait, there His foes were before him; he saw them clearly now, as some sense of clarity and certainty returned to him. Three lay slain, broken corpses strewn upon the uneven ground, their vile essence pooling by their bodies, their foul existence ended by his hand. Only the last remained, the tall, translucent figure stood proud before him, mocking him, the sharp, piercing stench of the thing filling the air. He saw his comrades now, fellow devoted of Humact locked in their own mortal combats with similar foes, and he briefly paused, thinking to help them; but no, he trusted them to fight their own battles, as he must finish his. He girded himself, preparing for the combat to come. He knew, from bitter experience, that the battle was best won quickly; a single, sudden assault, one direct strike and it would be over. He drew his sword, raised it above his head and cried out; "For the honour of Humact!" His arm waivered; the dense steel of the weapon, the clouding of his mind and the fatigue of battle all weighed heavy on him. He faltered, and as he slowly slumped, something hit him square in the chest and he collapsed; falling forwards into the soft, dark embrace of unconsciousness, his thoughts were filled with the terrible knowledge that he had failed, and now his friends, his faith and all of Wessex would suffer the consequences. The two Wallachians looked with bemusement at their teenage compatriot as he raised his arm, shouted incoherently and collapsed, face first, onto the table at which they sat. Before him a glass of Ivan's home-distilled Wodka teetered at the impact, its three predecessors scattered around his recumbent form. Natasha shrugged; "That is a new record for our young friend; he is improving, I think." Svetlana nodded; "At least he is not trying to liberate my armour in the name of Humact again." Tiberius snored loudly, contentedly lost in foolish dreams of monsters, heroism and wenching... |  | |
Category: Character
Category: Hard Hat Area