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Uglúk the Ugly

That's skull-crusher to you, puny shit!

0 · 1,246 views · located in The Sword Coast

a character in “Seasons of the Lich”, as played by Seraph

Description

Image

n a m e s a k e :
¬ Full |birth| Name: Uglúk
¬ Spoken |used| Name: Uglúk
¬ Acquired |aliases| Names: Skull-Smasher

n u m e r i c a l :
¬ Appearing Age: 34
¬ Factual Age: 34

s o c i o l o g i c a l :
¬ Class: Barbarian

¬ Profession: Mercenary/ Ex-convicted murderer of 12 counts, 4 counts of rape, 6 counts of lewdness in public, and 1 count of telling the axeman "Hurry the fuck up, will ya?"

¬ Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Chaotic Neutral characters do whatever the hell they like and damn the consequences (unless they're too noble or hurtful, watch out for that part!). Some say they're the ultimate free spirits, others that they're just crazy. Either way, there's no telling what they'll decide to do next - their main, and often only, concern is their own freedom. Whose side are they on? It's doubted that they even know themselves. Nobody else does. In some ways their inherent uncertainty makes them an unknown quantity to deal with most times so they border on Jerkass in terms of their self-centered perception of the world, though they usually do have some redeeming features. Chaotic Neutrals detest the self righteous and believe in power to the individual.

The Chaotic Neutral character may have a kind enough heart and even help out others sometimes, but they do not feel committed to helping others as they are random, and sometimes they are nothing but an amoral nutjob, not consciously thinking about the consequences of their actions. Occasionally, if a character runs the entire gamut of alignments with their actions (inevitably failing at Good), they can be classed as Chaotic Neutral on average. (But, they may really be True Neutral, Lawful Neutral, or they may defy traditional alignments all together.) It's sometimes hard to tell with these folks.

Chaotic Neutral is both an easy and difficult alignment to play as. Easy, because its chaos and neutrality allows a player to do what they please, and hard because you really have to be careful about not annoying people when you can do whatever you want. Many players of Chaotic Neutral also have a tendency to end up in Good groups, playing Chaotic Good characters and doing things that are generally good, not just selfish. Many poor players also confuse Chaotic Neutral with "batshit crazy": a Chaotic Neutral character is not equally likely to jump off a bridge as he is to cross it, that would rather be Chaotic Stupid, and a competent Chaotic Neutral generally tries to avert being just that - although a character of this type choosing to jump off a bridge is probably not all that interested in participating, anyway.

¬ Marital Status: Who the fuck cares? I don't even remember her name...

b i o l o g i c a l :

¬ Height: 6 foot 8 inches

¬ Weight: A virtual wall of muscle and bone, he weighs a staggering 350lbs.

¬ Hair:Black hair, although short, its gruff, rugged appearing as like the rest of him.

¬ Eye: Yellow eyes

¬ Skin: Greenish-grey skin tones.

¬ Body Art: He has his tribe's inscribed tattoo , that of the 'Elk' Tribe on his left shoulder.

¬ Scar Tissue: Across his well....entire body? He has several distinctive scars though, upon his face covering both eyes in different formations. One going one way, and the other going, well, the other way. These striations do not incur with his vision. His eyes are too sunken back in his head to actually been affected. Rather, these channels are from where a sword actually lodged its self off-kilter in his thick skull.

¬ Genetics: Grey Orc

¬ Race: Half-Orc.

¬ Attributes: Orcs and their progeny, be it full blooded or no, have Darkvision. It is the extraordinary ability to see with no light source at all, out to a range specified for the creature. Darkvision is black and white only (colors cannot be discerned). It does not allow characters to see anything that they could not see otherwise—invisible objects are still invisible, and illusions are still visible as what they seem to be. Likewise, darkvision subjects a creature to gaze attacks normally. The presence of light does not spoil darkvision.

For all intents and purposes, even half-orcs are referred to simply as a "Orcs". Their blood is one in the same.

Automatic Languages: Common, Orc. Bonus Languages: Draconic, Giant, Gnoll, Goblin, Abyssal.[/i]

m e n t a l l i t y:

¬ Demeanour: Uglúk undeniably is the most outspoken "man" one would know. If he likes something he says so. If he wants to fuck, well, you had better be the Paladin or you might just be fucked. But his simple enough nonchalance hides a secretive, if aloof character. One who's proud to be what he is, and won't mind bashing a head or two in to get the point across--that no one does it like a half orc can. Still, towards those he considers close--oddly enough the one he's more often than not at ends with a Paladin--He'd die before he'd let someone touch her. This strange protectiveness stems from a deeply psychological need or want or desire to be more...beautiful in the eyes of his peers. Just because he doesn't agree with something doesn't meant he can't "love" it or be infatuated by it. Undeniably, its her faith that saves her. Just as its solitary reliance on himself that proves to win the day in so many of Uglúk's battles. Uglúk means "Ugly". He was so named because he was the bastardized child of a rape. His mother abused him, neglected and mistreated him. Till he killed her. Thus began a hard life of resolve. A resolution to live the way HE wanted not what others expected of him.

¬ Tendencies: He is very short tempered. Like lighting dynamite without a wick. This is typically brought on when someone tries to limit his sense of freedom. Either a town guard or local hoodlum, the results the same. A massacre that usually very gory. Other than that, he can be lewd, vulgar and promiscuous. He hates it when people stare at his Orc lineage, yet uses it to intimidate others for what he wants. He tends towards violence, song and dance and drinking. I loves fighting. If there is something more than he loves fighting, it hasn't come up yet. Sex is just a by product of his desires. He is often simple-minded in his resolution. Need a door opened up? Beat the thing down. Need that crowd dispersed? Wave an axe around a little.

a r s e n a l:
¬ Offense: Gravedigger
-- type: Melee.
-- paragon: Adamantine that 'bearded' axe head that has been purposefully chipped. Mahogany handle that is long enough for two hands but he can easily swing it with just one.

-- enchantments: This ultrahard metal adds to the quality of a weapon or suit of armor. Weapons fashioned from adamantine have a natural ability to bypass hardness when sundering weapons or attacking objects, ignoring hardness less than anything but superbly hard materials. Steel is not one of them.

-- other: It its partially the reason behind his infamy as guards who were attracted to the site of his debauchery, weren't equipped tot protect against Adamantine bladed weapons. That said, no one knows [i]how he came about a weapon like this. Ordinarily, it would be quite expensive to produce hawking around 3,000 gold pieces. Still, it is a very formidable weapon, and one which he uses like a gladiator does a sword without all the finesse. [/i]


b a t t l e c l a d:
¬ Upper Body: Got a cloak? Nope.
¬ Full Body: Animal hide loin cloth.
¬ Head: Any helms? Notta.
¬ Arms: Any bracers or gauntlets? He has one bracer on his right arm, its of okay quality. Its nothing really special.
¬ Waist: Belt? Studded strap to keep himself from being lewd--when he's not drunk that is.
¬ Feet: Boots? You mean to tell me they make a size twenty-four??

p r o f i c e n c y :
Uglúk uses whatever means he has at his disposal at the time of confrontation. Which, in general speaking terms--can mean a lot of things are about to get thrown around like a twister had be set loose. When I say [i]whatever means, I mean it. His volatile nature, blood-lust when he's gone into frenzy mode and sense of freedom are a coctail for extreme violence. If he doesn't have his axe Gravedigger, or a spear at hand, he will use his hands, his prominent protruding teeth--even his own skull as a means to an end.

The scars on his face, which he wears with a strong sense of pride--no doubt taken from his savagery as a frontiersman and his Orc heritage, are reminders to just how simple minded, audacious and reckless he can be. Yet it is also a reminder that, if you don't kill him in the initial swing--you better pray to whatever sweet merciful God you belong to that he believes in salvation because what will happen next will be anything but merciful.

When it comes to wielding his intimidatingly large axe, Gravedigger, one would sooner want to fight a horde of lesser trained bandits or a troupe of ordinary Orcs rather than this one. He can swing it with one hand, and the adamantine blade means there is no stopping it unless it hits something much, much harder. Steel will give way to this cruelly designed bearded axe. Its simple design belies its truer and simply put, devastating cutting power. Combined with the sharpness, which needs never be honed, is the strength of a gorilla. More than a simple "man" can produce. It is directly tied in with his Orcish traits which predominately displayed for all to see.

With arms the size of halfings heads, rounded like a fine melon and robust like a like he can tear a tavern door off the hinges and use it like a battering ram against a horde. In frenzy, he can tear a man literally in half from the adrenaline adding a seemingly, superfluous of strength to an already brutally strong creature. Keep this in mind when this Goliath stands up, wanting to brawl.

¬ Axes
¬ Spears
¬ Anything he can break off and bludgeon someone with.



f e a t s:
TBA

[/i]


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So begins...

Uglúk the Ugly's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Uglúk the Ugly Character Portrait: Nevae Character Portrait: Caine Abel Character Portrait: Veilyn Glannath
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#, as written by Seraph
Uglúk


The night air felt crisp around Uglúk's bare buttocks and his overgrown cock which was lightly swollen. It could have been the Clerics's blaring knee to his groin earlier that evening. Then again could have just been the feel of her itself. So nice and taut. And those buttocks? Yes, it was definitively worth the sharp jabbing pain then, and the yearning to be between her warm thighs now. It gave him a feel of those sinuous legs, right? That smooth, soft skin almost creamy in texture just above her knee as it rose to meet his loosely hanging self beneath his animal hide 'kilt'.

Damn were they solid!

Although the pain was certainly real enough, even HE would think twice about rubbing her ass like it belonged to him in the first place. Perhaps it should...Hmmmm. The Orc was getting side tracked from his purpose. He was hunting. Naked as was his tribe’s traditional rights. Like Druids and Rangers, the Elk tribe was far removed from the bustle of the city. They were nature driven folks, although guided by the Foehammer, Lord of Battles--Tempus. They were war-like and quite savage. Nevertheless, while they took from their indigenous enemies; Orcs, other tribes and goblin-kind they could be civilized enough to enter cities and towns. Mainly to sell their wares.

Uglúk's uncanny sense of smell, and his incredible ability to see in utter darkness both inherited traits of his Orcish father who--after he had raped his Uthgardtian mother in a plunder of one of their villages along the Desserrin River, proved invaluable. He could hunt and track game for miles. With his naked body, he carried a spear, not his infamous long-bearded axe. The slate rock tip, a crude primitive design but nonetheless surprisingly ingenious ploy for an Orc known for his volatile temper, lewdness and lose tongue and little regard for authority.

Perhaps that was why he had been convicted and tried to death. He knew not and cared for as little.

Coated on the edge of the spear, a neurotoxin from a serpent he had snatched up. What he was hunting for the Cleric's approval was quite dangerous. If the playing field wasn't leveled a bit, he would head back with no pelt and plenty of scars to prove he was a worthless shit. He'd show her! He came around the bend slowly stalking his prey. His naked body flexing muscles others only dreamed they had. His biceps were about as large as dwarves’ head and just as stout while his hand could grip a man's skull and him quite still. If not, his thumb might apply pressure and no one but the Orc wanted that.

Before him his prey item: a brown bear. His 'boar' tusks sneered more as his right arm drew back taking with it the spear. The creature would momentarily have no idea what was about to happen. He thrust the spear through the air, lodging it well past the creature's thick hide. I snarled in pain turning to face it, perhaps even remedy it. Seeing the bear try and bite at the heft of the spear, Uglúk himself charged over. He grabbed the shaft and with the shaft driving the spear even further into its innards.

The poison entered the blood stream. Carried towards the heart rather than away--such was the nature of a weapon that 'thrust', 'pierced' or 'stabbed. It created suction with the pressure of the inside cavity. The highly modified saliva of the reptile impacted the bear's coherence as much as the pain. Uglúk had been taught to expect, even garner its effects when used on a creature--or somebody. It warranted an anesthesia like state where struggle was impossible, only inevitability was to ensue.

He couldn't very much say the bear didn't feel it robbing it of its life. That it was painless. But it was easy.
At one point during the bears frenzied growls and his feral grunts, Uglúk placed his bare foot on the creatures hip and snapped the shaft of the weapon making it too short to pull out any longer.

"There! Pull that out you sum bitch! "Uglúk growled and lifted what ordinarily would be a small boulder but in his hands look like just a rock due to their size. Kicking a weakened bear over by forcefully 'snapping' his knee outwardly, the poison also having an effect seizing the bear's muscles involuntarily. Uglúk set to motion, the savage act of smashing the creatures cranial. So lost was he in the violence that it washed him red with blood. His heart was a thunderous one, pounding away with large exhales through his some-what human looking nose in gusts and blasts.

His enormous chest hardly seemed like it were fluctuating at all. Sweat gleaned from his bare naked poise as he tore the head of the spear out. Blood came out in a geyser. A small one but he had severed a major artery that still had pressure built up inside the plexus. The Orc, like his brutish relatives and the savages of the Uthgardt set about the laborious task of cleaning and skinning the animal meticulously. The fiber of flesh and sinew being carved by steady hands--if any one saw how good he was at this it would only promise to prove his intimidation.

By the time he finished, and washed the pelt of blood--it was morning. His Orcish eyes, small but retaining the blue-grey of storm clouds like those of his mother squinted. It wasn't so much the light hurt him in anyway, it was just a nuisance. He ate what he could of the bear, deciding to leave the rest to be carrion and scraps for other wildlife and took the pelt he had sheared off and ambled of towards the group, his nose leading the way. He had hardly missed the crowd--if not for the shrewd woman who teased his thoughts with her supple breasts and taut buttocks--the fighter was surely of the same mind at least when it came concerning battles.

Cain was a stout man--for a human. As stout as any dwarf. He couldn't complain too much...There were...elven folk about. Those scrawny toothed-picked sons of bitches pissed him off. How the hell did they walk on snow anyways? Fucking faeries. They mine as well bee nymphs! He could chuck one if he could catch first. That's another thing. They were sly and arrogant too! Uglúk snarled, walking into camp in the nude showing his well-hung proportions passive-aggressively. About the only thing about the Orc the was the least bit "passive".

Ambling over to the blond seductress, he rolled his enormous shoulder--nearly twice that of Cain's. He wasn't competing in any way, or maybe he was it was hard to tell, he was an Orc of Tempus. He eyed her up and down, making damn sure he knew where her leg was. "There," Uglúk grunted at her, his scarred face in intimidating to any one elses. "That ought to keep you warm till I can." He chuckled, though, with an Orc they looked cocky all the time with their perpetual sneer. His upper body 'rocked' as he laughed before he turned to dawn his own hide armor and lift up an ace that he could uncannily weild with frightful ease. The blade looked bloodstained all the time, and the long-bearded axe head was deliberately chipped as if to take out chunks as it rent flesh.

The setting changes from Faerun to The Sword Coast

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Uglúk the Ugly Character Portrait: Nevae Character Portrait: Caine Abel Character Portrait: Veilyn Glannath Character Portrait: Johnathan (Illumination)
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Caine Abel


"Oh, looks like we got ourselves a brand new fop... At least this one can carry a tune," Caine said upon the not-so-subtle arrival of their new bard. Lively and bright, just like one would expect a bard to be. Caine chuckled. At least they had entertainment for the road ahead. "Play me a diddy Johnny!" Caine called out, not hiding his amusement. It seemed though, if he was to get his request, then that request would have to be fulfilled on the road. Their captain began to move out, with them behind her. Caine made she that his sword and shield was secure and that his shortsword was within reach just in case things got nasty on the road. As one would expect with the title of a fighter, he was always wary of a fight. At the bidding of Nevae, Caine shrugged, "Let's," and they were off. Before long, they had entered the forest.

Off to the side, Caine heard something in the brush. His hand went to his sword, and awaited the beast to show itself... And the beast did. In all of it's dangly glory. "That's... One hell of a way to start the mission..." Caine said, quickly shifting his line-of-sight elsewhere, anywhere that didn't inevitably lead to the newly arrived Orc's... Package. Ugluk was a decent enough of a man himself-- if you could call an Orc a man. Loud, boisterous, and always wanting for a good battle. They were alike in many regard... Except this one. Caine didn't like to traipse around in the buff (not that he was ashamed of anything mind, just that... It got chilly). Now the sudden appearance of the orc (all of him) had caught Caine offguard. He stole a glance from Veilyn, who was handling it about as well as he was.

"So the hunt... Went, uh, well then?" Caine asked trying to do anything to get his mind off of the Orc's bit. Noticeably, Caine said this behind a curtain of fingers. Surely he wasn't the only one who found this a might bit awkward. Hah, the fighter, awkward, he didn't he'd ever see the day. Perhaps if Caine hadn't been trying to shield his eyes, he could see the pelt that Ugluk had returned with. Alas. He couldn't imagine what was going through Nevae's mind, and he almost pitied the poor girl... almost.

But like all good things, they must come to an end. Ugluk found his hide armor and Caine gave a prayer to Tymora. "Oh thank Tymora," he muttered, " he found his clothes,". This time, Veilyn was the one to venture a glance at Caine. His only answer was a subdued shrug and a shake of the head. Things were off to a smashing start... As it stood, it would take an entire tavern's worth of alcohol to cleanse the visage from his mind.

With the first of the day's ordeals managed, Caine continued forth.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Uglúk the Ugly Character Portrait: Ari-Logan Askew Character Portrait: Balthazar Character Portrait: Araina Narthanellyn Character Portrait: Johnathan (Illumination)
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#, as written by Celedia
-=Araina=-

Events unfolded at the camp once more. Some of the recruits left, whether because the task itself proved insurmountable to them or their employer filled them with distaste was left unknown. Yet just as swiftly as people exited the camp, more people seemed to file into it. Perhaps this was all a part of the Crow’s game? Placing pieces of the puzzle together in separate ways until he created a picture that he wanted? With the last of the members entering the clearing, in a rather prominent way, the elven druidess averted her eyes and turned to enter the woods.

And so the merry band made their way through the forest in the general direction of the Coast Way. Apprehension flooded the druidess’ lithe body. Despite her off the cuff and almost condescendingly aloof remarks about heading to a human city, the elf was actually affected by the thought of leaving nature. She had spent her entire life without entering the man made stone and steel creations that humans prided them selves on but now her path led her directly through the very things she despised.

If she were a more sociable creature she might try to befriend one of her traveling companions and tell them her fears to ease her mind, yet her innate hostility towards all other races prevented that from happening. There were no friends of nature in this ragtag band with the exception of the Ranger who had fled into the woods on her steed as soon as the party started moving. Whether she had decided that she was unable to deal with their newfound allies or if she was simply taking another path through the woods, Araina couldn’t be sure.

As they moved, the druidess hung back to take up the rear. In part, because she wanted to stay in her haven until the very last possible second and also, so she could observe the newest members- the bard, the sorcerer, the assassin, and the barbarian. Intriguing men, all of them, in their different ways but she stayed observant until her keen sense of hearing picked up the sound of voices in the distance and at the same time, the foliage broke way to open plains and a winding dirt road.

Within sight yet quite a fair walking distance north, her eyes could pick out a caravan moving slowly onwards. Their smaller group could easily gain on the gypsies if they were to pick up their pace.