Name: Arruk'tul
Sex: Male
Age: Thirty-two
Height and Build: 8'2"; wiry runner's build
Race: Mountain troll
Physical Description: A towering troll with a vividly acidic green stare, Arruk tips the scales at the limits of troll height at just over eight feet tall. The rest of his body follows suit, though hardly a hulk; he's a lithe, agile, wiry sort of creature, lean and roped with practiced runner's muscle. Ears are long, expressive and tapered, and a thin tail curls down to his ankles, plumed hair on its underside gracefully tapering to a tuft that only somewhat hides the tail's bladed tip. A large pair of horns grow to sweep back with graceful curves; these are flanked by small, stubby secondary horns on either side, barely bearing a similar curve, as nondescript as the primary pair is impressive.
Occupation: Hunter/Butcher
Skills: Battle and hand-to-hand combat, and cheating therein. Games. Survival. Rudimentary field medicine. Dragon care and upkeep. Hunting and butchery, along with the sort of food preparation that follows. Being that paranoid guy in the group.
History: Thoroughly entrenched in dragonrider tales and lore, Arruk is a troll descended from a proud line of riders, and many had speculated, despite his threatening to age-out of the prospect, that it was merely a matter of time before he'd bond with a dragon, himself.
A settler who managed to lie low during Korgmak’tun's purges (though his father - a trusted and old dragonrider, himself - wasn't so lucky), Arruk, driven by wounded revenge, found his place at his displaced prince's side - and notably later among Buutar's group of egg-nappers. And even after their leader's death, he scrounges about for a sense purpose in training for confrontation daily, ready to defend the settlement when (not "if," he would insist) necessary.
The mountain troll proved himself stubborn and determined sort, and something about him left an impression on the occupant of one of the recovered eggs, for a slinky and crimson little creature soon hatched and declared, with all the surety befitting a dragon, that she was his and only his, and he was hers - she'd simply not been shelled, yet.
And so Arruk'tul found himself the rider of the dragon Ylvarød, a beautiful and well-proportioned specimen of a beast; a creature cast in mottled browns and cinnabar reds; deep-chested, broad-shouldered, with a strong, sinuous neck and tail. Her distinctive markings, mirrored on her rider stand stark against crimson hide, ferociously angular and painted in muted ocher, while her eyes glow as acidic of a green as the crystalline gem atop her forehead.
Circumstance, recent bloody history, and no small wish to lead, himself, has left Arruk quite the jaded skeptic - and he frequently voices such thoughts. But rather than outright shun or ignore the poor boy-leader Ganuu'bit, he's elected to (somewhat grudgingly) offer himself up as a resource and advisor.
The dragon decides the rider, after all and it would be foolish, utter heresay to question a dragon's choice - but that wouldn't stop an utter old coot from deciding the dragon.
---
It's been six months since the trolls arrived in Kongensvik, and Ylvarød - among the other scaevenged eggs - grow bigger and stronger, every day. As rider of the camp's current, only female, Arruk aims to grow their dragon population as expediently as possible before they're discovered, to get Ylvarød covered in males. Unfortunately such dragons are in woefully short supply, and complicating matters is that Ylvarød has proven herself a female rather finicky. Whether by instinct, lack thereof, or just plain pickiness, she's quick to shun interested males or categorize them as a friend rather than a mate.
All the more reason to move. Somehow - before people begin to question the practicality of the meat and resources of their motley crew of refugees going to a broodmother who refuses to make eggs.
Sex: Male
Age: Thirty-two
Height and Build: 8'2"; wiry runner's build
Race: Mountain troll
Physical Description: A towering troll with a vividly acidic green stare, Arruk tips the scales at the limits of troll height at just over eight feet tall. The rest of his body follows suit, though hardly a hulk; he's a lithe, agile, wiry sort of creature, lean and roped with practiced runner's muscle. Ears are long, expressive and tapered, and a thin tail curls down to his ankles, plumed hair on its underside gracefully tapering to a tuft that only somewhat hides the tail's bladed tip. A large pair of horns grow to sweep back with graceful curves; these are flanked by small, stubby secondary horns on either side, barely bearing a similar curve, as nondescript as the primary pair is impressive.
Occupation: Hunter/Butcher
Skills: Battle and hand-to-hand combat, and cheating therein. Games. Survival. Rudimentary field medicine. Dragon care and upkeep. Hunting and butchery, along with the sort of food preparation that follows. Being that paranoid guy in the group.
History: Thoroughly entrenched in dragonrider tales and lore, Arruk is a troll descended from a proud line of riders, and many had speculated, despite his threatening to age-out of the prospect, that it was merely a matter of time before he'd bond with a dragon, himself.
A settler who managed to lie low during Korgmak’tun's purges (though his father - a trusted and old dragonrider, himself - wasn't so lucky), Arruk, driven by wounded revenge, found his place at his displaced prince's side - and notably later among Buutar's group of egg-nappers. And even after their leader's death, he scrounges about for a sense purpose in training for confrontation daily, ready to defend the settlement when (not "if," he would insist) necessary.
The mountain troll proved himself stubborn and determined sort, and something about him left an impression on the occupant of one of the recovered eggs, for a slinky and crimson little creature soon hatched and declared, with all the surety befitting a dragon, that she was his and only his, and he was hers - she'd simply not been shelled, yet.
And so Arruk'tul found himself the rider of the dragon Ylvarød, a beautiful and well-proportioned specimen of a beast; a creature cast in mottled browns and cinnabar reds; deep-chested, broad-shouldered, with a strong, sinuous neck and tail. Her distinctive markings, mirrored on her rider stand stark against crimson hide, ferociously angular and painted in muted ocher, while her eyes glow as acidic of a green as the crystalline gem atop her forehead.
Circumstance, recent bloody history, and no small wish to lead, himself, has left Arruk quite the jaded skeptic - and he frequently voices such thoughts. But rather than outright shun or ignore the poor boy-leader Ganuu'bit, he's elected to (somewhat grudgingly) offer himself up as a resource and advisor.
The dragon decides the rider, after all and it would be foolish, utter heresay to question a dragon's choice - but that wouldn't stop an utter old coot from deciding the dragon.
---
It's been six months since the trolls arrived in Kongensvik, and Ylvarød - among the other scaevenged eggs - grow bigger and stronger, every day. As rider of the camp's current, only female, Arruk aims to grow their dragon population as expediently as possible before they're discovered, to get Ylvarød covered in males. Unfortunately such dragons are in woefully short supply, and complicating matters is that Ylvarød has proven herself a female rather finicky. Whether by instinct, lack thereof, or just plain pickiness, she's quick to shun interested males or categorize them as a friend rather than a mate.
All the more reason to move. Somehow - before people begin to question the practicality of the meat and resources of their motley crew of refugees going to a broodmother who refuses to make eggs.
Accepted! just remember to add your characters skin colour to the desc, and remember there is currently only one male among the dragons until we hatch some more.