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    • IMPORTANT: Le nouveau forum   05/04/2017

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Content tagged 'bio'

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  1. Gunterthewarrior
    Gunter was born May 30, 1987, he was raised and taught on a potato farm. He lived on a small island named Ireland. When he was a young lad his mother died and his father went into deep depression causing his family to loose the farm. Gunter and his father were homeless for 4 years begging off the streets. When gunter was 16 his father commit suicide leaving Gunter alone with nothing, Gunter was going to commit suicide but someone, somewhere told him to stop and go foward. So Gunter did and sailed to island to island find a place to settle, then he found Calpheon, soon he made his sword and tamed a horse which is his Noble Steed. Now Gunter is exploring to find a place where he can settle down and start his own farm like his farther.
  2. [Hey gents, I don't know a lot of a lot about the black desert lore but I do enjoy amateur writing so here's a bit on a character which I probably, might, could possibly play.]
    The last cinders of a cook fire struggle to push back the darkness as they dance across a cool camp, carved into a quiet hillside. The smaller figure adjusts her seating to reach an almost dry cloak that had been muffling the camp light and pulls it around her shoulders greedily.
    “It is careless to advertise your place of rest in an unknown land”, a smooth masculine whisper drifts between master and student. The fires' last glow reveals a small gesture that quenches its heat and buries the charred kindling to leave a smooth area in the hillside shelter.
    The young ward remained deaf until her head bobbed harshly a few seconds later. Snorting awake, her body protests and she forces herself into a more dignified upright position while her cheeks burn against the gentle morning winds. “Did you say something, Master?” she asks while failing to hide a yawn.
    It is too dark to see his smile, but he is not plagued by the fatigue of his charge even after the long day’s journey that continued into the moonlight. “Set the wards and drink some water, little one. The night is not young and the sun will soon seek its due. Get what sleep you may.”
    “Yes, Master”, She isn’t so drained that she cannot locate her staff nearby. Planting its tip between her crossed legs, she mouths the words to borrow from its power and focus her mind. Few minutes pass that leave her sluggishly feeling around for her water skin and wetting her mouth before rolling into the warm area vacated by the fire pit. “It is done”, she says too loud for the quiet night.
    “It is, the wards are strong and discreet. None will interrupt your rest tonight.” He talks quietly while moving additional fruit and dried meat from his own pack to hers unsupervised by his waning student. “We are on the border of a new land in old strife, how would you travel in this place?”
    “Hmmm, should we pick a side?” She inquired wearily. She drifted to sleep clutching her staff and water without noticing her question went unanswered.
                    The apprentice woke by degrees, first noticing the heat of the sun and pulling her cover up to protect her face from the invasive light. It soon became too warm to lay comfortably and she sat up to enjoy a cooling wind and another mouthful of water. She relied on her ears and nose while her eyes struggled to prepare themselves. Absent was the smell of breakfast or the sound of her master’s greeting. These were replaced by a bitter saltiness that clung to the air and a soft whooshing that she couldn’t place. Focusing internally gave no answers, she could sense very little nearby except maybe some birds.
                    Finally looking around the temporary shelter showed no trace of her master. Her stomach leapt into her chest when she realized his pack was gone as well. She jumped to her feet and staggered onto the hillside. Shocked silence accompanied a confused gaze leveled across a horizon of water. “Is this…an ocean?” slowly the image began to match a description told to her years before. Tearing her gaze from this new phenomenon she still found neither trace nor tracks of her master.
                    Ending the search at her own meager equipment, the girl refused to fall into panic at her own suddenly crushing loneliness. Dry clothes, more food than she recalled having, her staff and now questioningly full water skin. A second check of the area turned up a thin wood bound book that she must have rolled on top of in her sleep. Its only text quickly returned the fire to her veins.
    A new land in old strife.
    Should we pick a side?
    Who will you be, to them?