lordofthunder4
Villager
Name: LordofThunder4. Given to me in mockery of my talents over the other ogres in my clan, before my exile.
Nickname: Lord. Shorter than my aforementioned name.
Age: 29 years.
Gender: Male
Race: Ogre
Height: 6' 5" Very small for an ogre.
Weight: Very small build for an ogre, I rest at about 300 lbs or about 136 kg.
Hair: none
Eyes: One big black beauty.
Skin: Dark green
Identifying Marks: As a pathetic excuse for an ogre, I was beaten on numerous occasions, but never anywhere that showed through armor. Only one eye, as stated beforehand.
Appearance: The standard ogre towers above me, sporting far more muscle, and far less intelligence. Standing at the height of a tall human, my small size causes even my small(for an ogre) muscles to ripple through my body, giving me the appearance of a great body builder. My hands and feet sport small claws while my ears resemble an elf's in pointiness. My one great eye consumes nearly half of my face, with a tiny nose and a sharp tooth lined jaw the other half. My head is larger than a human's in proportion to my body. Unlike the other ogres of my tribe I stand straight, instead of hunched, and my arms are slightly shorter, more like a human's. While I prefer to be clad in the strongest of armor I can sometimes be found in nothing more than a set of fur pants. They're very comfortable.
Strengths: I'm good with my hands, and while still with my tribe worked to develop better weapons and tools. While not nearly as powerful as my brethren I can hold my own in melee combat against the smaller races of Altera. I am not as quick to anger as my kin but when finally provoked even veteran soldiers can fall before me.
Weakness/fears: Pesky archers are cowards, and often slayed my brothers from afar. Endermen are seen as devils and I will avoid them at all costs. Though I am far more skilled with my hands than my brothers, I am not fond of magic nor alchemy.
Religion: I shed my kin's tribal beliefs when they shed me from the tribe. The highest power is simply the highest Lord of whatever land I currently live within.
Profession: In my 7 years since exile I have become a proficient smith of all weapons, armor, and tools. Before then I mostly knocked down trees and gathered rocks for my tribe, almost endlessly, in a futile effort to gain some respect.
Backstory: Born to a upper tier Ogre clan located in an unknown swamp, I looked like a normal ogre-baby. As years passed I quickly fell behind my brothers and sisters in terms of growth and strength. From a slight disadvantage as a child to a mocked individual as I reached 20, I was relegated to the lowest of jobs, such as tree felling and rock gathering. It was in these years my intelligence seemed to surpass even the oldest of our clan. The tools I crafted made the debilitating work far easier, but intelligence is not a smiled upon attribute in my kind. In a last ditch attempt to please the chief, I slew many beasts who contained a grey powder, and upon concentrating it, when lit, caused a fiery explosion. Unfortunately one of my cousins drew to close to the mixture and was disfigured by the flames. This was the last straw, for I was beaten and thrown out once and for all. Who knows why they did not simply kill me? At a ripe young age of 22 I wandered the wilds for 2 years before finding a mining outpost that, after realizing I wasn't trying to kill them, hired me on. I became better at fastening tools, learned to make bladed weapons, and the process of smelting gold and iron. After three years I left, after the new foreman, who didn't trust me, tried to poison me. Having built myself a hovel I lived in solitude for 4 years, and now I have decided to make myself a place among the throngs of cities and settlements across the land. My hammer will fall like thunder upon the forge, and my name and craft shall be known throughout all of Altera!
Nickname: Lord. Shorter than my aforementioned name.
Age: 29 years.
Gender: Male
Race: Ogre
Height: 6' 5" Very small for an ogre.
Weight: Very small build for an ogre, I rest at about 300 lbs or about 136 kg.
Hair: none
Eyes: One big black beauty.
Skin: Dark green
Identifying Marks: As a pathetic excuse for an ogre, I was beaten on numerous occasions, but never anywhere that showed through armor. Only one eye, as stated beforehand.
Appearance: The standard ogre towers above me, sporting far more muscle, and far less intelligence. Standing at the height of a tall human, my small size causes even my small(for an ogre) muscles to ripple through my body, giving me the appearance of a great body builder. My hands and feet sport small claws while my ears resemble an elf's in pointiness. My one great eye consumes nearly half of my face, with a tiny nose and a sharp tooth lined jaw the other half. My head is larger than a human's in proportion to my body. Unlike the other ogres of my tribe I stand straight, instead of hunched, and my arms are slightly shorter, more like a human's. While I prefer to be clad in the strongest of armor I can sometimes be found in nothing more than a set of fur pants. They're very comfortable.
Strengths: I'm good with my hands, and while still with my tribe worked to develop better weapons and tools. While not nearly as powerful as my brethren I can hold my own in melee combat against the smaller races of Altera. I am not as quick to anger as my kin but when finally provoked even veteran soldiers can fall before me.
Weakness/fears: Pesky archers are cowards, and often slayed my brothers from afar. Endermen are seen as devils and I will avoid them at all costs. Though I am far more skilled with my hands than my brothers, I am not fond of magic nor alchemy.
Religion: I shed my kin's tribal beliefs when they shed me from the tribe. The highest power is simply the highest Lord of whatever land I currently live within.
Profession: In my 7 years since exile I have become a proficient smith of all weapons, armor, and tools. Before then I mostly knocked down trees and gathered rocks for my tribe, almost endlessly, in a futile effort to gain some respect.
Backstory: Born to a upper tier Ogre clan located in an unknown swamp, I looked like a normal ogre-baby. As years passed I quickly fell behind my brothers and sisters in terms of growth and strength. From a slight disadvantage as a child to a mocked individual as I reached 20, I was relegated to the lowest of jobs, such as tree felling and rock gathering. It was in these years my intelligence seemed to surpass even the oldest of our clan. The tools I crafted made the debilitating work far easier, but intelligence is not a smiled upon attribute in my kind. In a last ditch attempt to please the chief, I slew many beasts who contained a grey powder, and upon concentrating it, when lit, caused a fiery explosion. Unfortunately one of my cousins drew to close to the mixture and was disfigured by the flames. This was the last straw, for I was beaten and thrown out once and for all. Who knows why they did not simply kill me? At a ripe young age of 22 I wandered the wilds for 2 years before finding a mining outpost that, after realizing I wasn't trying to kill them, hired me on. I became better at fastening tools, learned to make bladed weapons, and the process of smelting gold and iron. After three years I left, after the new foreman, who didn't trust me, tried to poison me. Having built myself a hovel I lived in solitude for 4 years, and now I have decided to make myself a place among the throngs of cities and settlements across the land. My hammer will fall like thunder upon the forge, and my name and craft shall be known throughout all of Altera!