NomadTikitil Schritta

"Outfly death? Of course I can. I do it every time an arrow falls before I do."

a character in “Nomad - Book One: War”, as played by Hydrall

Factions, Families, Clans, and Empires



Name: Tikitil Schritta  
Age: 16 
Sex: Female
Race: Harpy
Class: Scout
Physical Description: Tikitil is of the Hoazhim clans, a kind of harpy that once lived in thick jungles. They are winged-armed Harpies, but in a unique way; at the second joint of their three-segmented linbs there are thin, clawed fingers, forming a hand that allows them to manipulate tools and grasp items in flight. More importantly, it helped them climb through the dense foliage and plants that prevented flight, making them almost as much of a ground hunter as air. Other than that, they are the standard bird-legged type, with a longish neck for better motion. 

Tikitil is young, yet she is already fully grown- her shorter lifespan leads to a different growth cycle. She stands about four and 9/10s feet tall with her legs in their normal standing bend, able to rise and lower by changing their angle. Her hair is white, and cut short for military service; usually, she wears a flower circlet tied in it, but not anymore (standing out on the battlefield's no good when your bones break like styrofoam). Her face is angular, strong but filled with bright-eyed interest, and she has a tendency to stare at things. The clothes she wears tend to be aerodynamically fit, without sleeves so to allow maximum arm movement. 


Speed. That word sums up all of what Tikitil is. From her race's short lifespan to her own occupation in the army, Tikitil relies on her swift wings to escape it. She believes you can outrun anything, even death, if you can go fast enough. 

Tikitil speaks quickly and much, freely chatting away to everyone around her about topics like the weather, gossip, battle whilst still in them... All while completely serious about whatever she's saying. She finds lying fun, but is awful at it and knows enough to not try it on important people or leaders. Petty thievery usually occurs along the same lines- if a shiny mirror or spoon goes missing, it's likely Tikitil took it with or without noticing and stashed it in her bedroll.

All she wants out of life is to know things. Fascinated by her exposure to the outside, she wants to see it all, and joining the army seemed like a good way to do so. If it makes her brief life briefer, so be it.


Beginning Armor: Tight, thin scale armor on her torso and legs, with metal bracing on her talons so that they can cut better. No armor elsewhere, save for a bird-skull shaped helmet of light bony material she wears, claiming it helps her disguise as a scout. 
Beginning Weapon(s): A sheaf of short javelins tied to her waist- Usually she carries six at a time, less when she needs to move fast. Also, her armored talons. 
Fighting Style: Tikitil fights from above whenever possible, tossing spears from the sky. When expecting ground fighting, she'll carry a pair of short spears or a bladed polearm. Her talons are effective weapons as well, though her 'finger claws' are actually too brittle for cutting even overthick cloth.   
Favored Weapon: Throwing spears. 
Other: She's not a mainline fighter, more suited to reconnaissance or raiding than direct, unavoidable fights. She's also not well trained yet, young and overeager.


The Hoazhim variety of Harpy mostly live on a far-off tropical continent. However, some tribes migrated or otherwise found their way to Nomad at some point in the past, and a few in particular ended up in the thick forests of the midlands, finding the environment suited enough to their lifestyle. Tikitil's ancestors counted themselves at some time amongst this migration. She herself has lived in the forests her entire life, only leaving briefly to join her tribe on trading ventures. Her first encounter with the outside world was a West Marches army unit passing through her village, looking for recruits. Impressed by their shining armor and weapons, she signed on as a scout. This will be her first encounter with the enemy.

So begins...

Tikitil Schritta's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tikitil Schritta Character Portrait: Lucifer Bedfellow
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Setting: Nomad2011-12-21 12:30:55, as written by Tyro
"'Bout five minutes ago, yeh." Lucifer said, ladle in one hand and a handful of something green and diced in the other. He fails to suppress a grin at the impact dent in the well-trodden soil the harpy was sitting in. Like a child waiting for her dinner.

It's interesting to note that Lucifer sounded like he was in slow motion compared to the Harpy. She seemed to have a V8 attached to that mouth. Lucifer further noted the short, white hair and the subtly-hidden claws momentarily. He tosses in the green things, ladle clanging loudly around the cauldron with the glowing compartment.
"It's bin heatin' up nicely an' should be done in another five minutes." Lucifer said, raising the ladle out and taking a sip.
Not long, not long...He drops whatever's left into the cauldron, tossing the ladle onto the wooden create-come-work table.
"So." He extends a large, short fingered hand. "I'm Lucifer, yeh ain't allergic teh anythin' or a vegetarian are yeh...err...Miss?"

Lucifer hadn't stopped taking a few more mental notes about the Harpy; like her odd tan. None of the Harpies had anything like that...Maybe a few of the elves but, and let's face facts, the elves are bloody strange people. Quiet and judgemental. Who knows where they got that tan? Not like they like to give out secrets much...He might have had a 'working tan' but if your in the close vicinity of a furnace all day, looking whiter than a virginal bride is grounds to be tried for witchcraft. Only the miners could get away with that.

"I mean, it's got a little bit o' chicken stock in it, should be all righ'"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tikitil Schritta Character Portrait: Lucifer Bedfellow
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Setting: Nomad2011-12-30 00:52:06, as written by Tyro
"A good bit a soup." Lucifer said, as he let the broth settle and cook. "It's got a little bit of parsley an' a little chicken stock. Think it'll be done in about five minutes. I'd sit yeh self down."

He crosses his arms, curious about the bird in front of him. This is his chance to learn a little about some of his comrades.
"So, err..Tikitil, right? How'd you get in on this? I was under the impression that girls only joined up for armies if they wanted to show blokes how it's done. Usually wise to to let 'em! Heh heh heh!" He then leans on the wooden box next to him as he waits for Tikitil's reply.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tikitil Schritta Character Portrait: Lucifer Bedfellow
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Setting: Nomad2011-12-31 03:46:05, as written by Tyro
"Heh..." Lucifer said. "Yeh know, I'm not sure I could do this for free. It ain't very patriotic, sure, but I just want something I can live on. I've been in an' out of holes in the ground, I have barely any clue about who's tryin' to do what, why and who. I'm just looking for a little money to get a nice place in a quiet village with. Anythin' further than 'kill the other bastards' hasn' been factored in yet."

"Actually..." Lucifer said as he picks up the ladle again, drops it into the soup then clangs around again with the stirring. "I think the last time I heard about the king's kids, they were still kids. I can nae think, it's been a long ol' while. I mean, I just go from mine to mine as a blacksmith. I just make tool. I barely care about the mine and careless about the country it's underneath! It never reaches us down there so why should we care? I get about two weeks of updates just by bein' up here before going down again."

The ladle is dragged out, dribbling the broth all over the place. He takes a sip.
"Ah. Righ' that's done." He drops the ladle on the side of the cauldron to fetch bowls from his tent.
"This might be a tad plain. I ain't added much to this as I ain't got the ingredients an' I was expecting a larger crowd. Ah well..." He said as he hands the bowl of steaming hot soup over to Tikitil.
"It's warming at least. I might be useful on this little mission of ours. I'd have thought that most of us are better with swords and hacking bastards down than cooking something half decent. I might be able to make myself useful, eh?" He chuckles as he blows on his soup at that thought. Captive people to try recipes on. It would be fantastic.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tikitil Schritta
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Setting: Nomad2012-01-13 03:05:44, as written by Hydrall
Tikitil drifted above the squad, her wings spread wide for gliding. She wished it was possible to sleep up here in the sky, where there weren't ants to dig in your feathers and where you could safely rest from your troubles. Unfortunately, she wasn't built for it; her shoulders ached if she kept her arms in the same position for too long, and she just couldn't sleep while flying. It had helped with avoiding crashing into trees back in the deep forest, but now, on a long march, Tikitil was beginning to wish the gods had made her different.

Like able to snort fireballs out of my nose. That's a useful idea they really should have capitalized on. Lots of business potential. Or maybe the ability to hypnotize people with a scream or a song... Nah, that's silly. Tikitil shook herself out of her thoughts, noticing that her flight had overtaken the group. She tilted, circling the group, keeping a watchful eye out for bandits or anything like that. Of course, she didn't know what a bandit would look like, so she just assumed they would advertise it. Maybe with a sign...


Tikitil's taloned feet left scratches on the cobblestones, leading her to frown and try to lighten her step. They probably won't like it if I scratch their street. Maybe I should buy shoes or something. Although even those metal claws made her walk funny and trip into things. Falling into a well would suck.

Of course, where she could find shoes for feet like hers was a mystery that would have to wait. They were supposed to meet at a tavern or something, right? Called... Some word she hadn't quite caught. Or remembered. But it had Claw in the name, right? Which probably meant it was located...

Tikitil looked up and down the street, noting the distinct lack of any directional signs that didn't rely on words she didn't know.

"Learn to read more," she scolded herself. "That way you can find things, and know when wanted posters have you on them." Except those had pictures, and she knew her name at the least. So that wasn't really a good justification. Either way, it was getting dark, and Tikitil didn't want to get trapped outside in a strange place. There might be gremlins in the sewers.

She continued down the street, occasionally stopping to sound out a sign in case it was where she was looking for. Eventually, though, she had to concede that she was, in fact, entirely lost.

An old human woman was sweeping a doorstep nearby, although the house was so run down she needn't have really bothered. When she saw Tikitil start towards her, she nearly ran back into the house.

"Do you know where an inn called... Uh... The golden, um..." Right, it helps to know where you're trying to go...

The old woman watched her carefully. "Are you with the army, dear?" she asked, slowly.

"Yes!" The harpy beamed proudly. "I think!"

With a disappointed huff, the old woman set the broom aside and opened her door. "Wonderful. More soldiers. If it's the Golden Claw you're looking for, it's on the mill road- Opposite side of town from the actual mills."

Tikitil had caught on to the anger, though, and was curious. "You don't like the army?"

The old woman's hand tightened on the doorknob, a pale skeletal outline in the darkening light. "They took my son away," she said, in a hoarse whisper. "What's there to like?" The door slammed shut, leaving Tikitil feeling vaguely concerned.

What's that supposed to mean?

But there wasn't time to dawdle, and Tikitil took off down the street at a skipping run, heading away from the vague terrible smells.


Tikitil pushed her way through the doors of the Golden Claw, suddenly feeling very cramped inside the building. She always did, though, so she ignored the feeling and took a look around. The inn looked... Homeish. Like someone would live here, rather than rent the rooms out. Of course, they would have look like that, if anyone was going to stay there.

It's big, though, if it can fit all of us. I wonder if we kicked anyone out of their rooms? Not the most polite way to enter a town, she guessed. Maybe that was why the old woman had seemed resentful. Come to think of, the town had been practically empty of people, or at least of men. Probably. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference with other races, since their feat- Their hair didn't tell their gender. The length of it sometimes did, but after a few awkward moments Tikitil had learned to discount elves from that equation.

She moved up to the bar, miraculously without whacking anyone with her wings, and sat down on a stool. Only her head was visible above the counter, plus her claws clutching the edge. The lizardman bartender gave her an odd look. "Doubt you're old enough to drink, kid."

"What? How old do I have to be?"

"Old enough to sleep on the counter, at least."

"What? But... But I'll die if I don't drink!"

The bartender paused, his scaled brow knitting in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"It's illegal for me to drink?" Tikitil looked around, cautiously. I've been breaking the law and never even knew it! Oh no...

"What are you talking about drinking?"


The lizardman could have hit his head against a tree. "Never mind, I was joking." He pushed a glass of water over to the harpy and moved on, exasperated.

Tikitil blinked. Does that mean I can still drink booze?

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Character Portrait: Tikitil Schritta
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Setting: Nomad2012-03-05 22:56:31, as written by Hydrall
Tikitil's face curved into a frown. It was quiet. Too quiet. A tavern was supposed to be full of jolly drunk people, and most everyone here seemed kind of sullen. That wouldn't do at all. Sullen drunks were for dumping in ponds, and nobody here needed to be dumped in a pond. A few people had filtered in since the soldiers had arrived- Laborers, mostly, a good portion crippled or otherwise made unsuitable for the draft or recruitment boards. Many looked at the soldiers with obvious dislike, and that could only lead to problems. What they needed was entertainment. And there was only one person who she could guess to go for for entertainment, and that was a bard. They had one of those, right? Had to be. Someone'd been singing before. But he didn't seem to be anywhere nearby. What a bother. Would she have to sing? That was a terrible idea, she had a voice like a squeaky door, or so she thought. And dancing wouldn't be a good idea either, or so her dad had warned her. What'd that leave?

Letting the drudgery go on, for one thing. No, never. Impossible. Boredom was heresy, or something. Yes. She'd start a conversation with someone, that's what she'd do. The captain and a few others were talking, but most of the squad... Brigade... Thing, were sitting around all asocial like. Unfortunately, Tikitil wasn't very good at introducing herself. Fortunately, she didn't let that stop her. She slipped off the bar stool, still carrying the glass of water she'd been given, plus a couple of spoons from the counter; All without noticing she had them. They vanished into her pocket while she looked for someone to bother, carefully walking over the tavern floor to avoid whacking someone with her wings.

Clatter. Smash. Evidently, not carefully enough. She'd turned to get around a table, just as a human male had set down his glass; Now it was on the floor, smashed to pieces when the tip of her wing had shoved it off. He blinked once, then turned, his eyes narrowing with anger. "You little bitch, look what you did!" He rose from his seat, and now the harpy saw just how big he was- A lumberjack, probably, one of the laborers fueling the the town. He walked with a heavy limp, his left leg twisted and mangled, but he still looked perfectly capable of snapping her in half like a twig.

Tikitil tried to protest that she didn't mean to, but she only was able to stammer, "I-I-I didn't... Didn't..." She stumbled backwards, her wings bumping against someone's back- She hoped it was someone from her squad, but didn't dare turn to look.

The lumberjack took another step forward, then stopped, noticing the insignia on her uniform. Normally, it would no doubt have shut the situation down, but this man was obviously passed the point where that would happen. The fact that a few others seemed to be backing him up- Three more men, one elf and two orcs, all glaring at her with scarcely disguised contempt- no doubt made him press on. "A soldier? Little girls shouldn't play with spears and swords. You lot are going to bring us to ruin. Take my friends away to die, leave us without any workers and more jobs to do than ever before, then come in here and act like you own the bloody place!" His hand twitched towards his jacket, where the hilt of something protruded- Probably a simple cutting knife for food. He didn't draw it, though. Not yet. "Clean up my beer, bird! You better damn well pay for it, too!"