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Rhokden Strong-Arm
A huge, heavily scarred man weilding a greatsword forged from the bones of a slain Chimera.
0 · 276 views · located in 
Forest Border
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Fenjor
So begins...
Rhokden Strong-Arm's Story
- Seen 20 Times • Page 1 of 1
Rhokden Strong-Arm leaned against the wall of the archway, a flute pressed against his lips. His eyes were pressed closed as he played his song, and his head bobbed slightly with the music. Next to him, also against the wall, stood a massive sword, only shorter than himself by a few inches. There was a yellow tint to the blade, with darker splotches here and there that resembled dried blood. The holt and pommel were gleaming silver, encrusted with rubies and emeralds. Rhokden paid no attention to the happenings around him, completely absorbed into his music.
Rhokden Strong-Arm started as he felt a sudden weight on his flute, eyes snapping open. Reacting more on instinct than anything, he whipped the flute downward with one hand and snatched at the dragon with the other. If he were to actually grab Houto, Rhokden had no intention of hurting it. He would tighten his grip just enough so that the creature couldn't escape, and reach down to open his pack and remove a small cage, placing the white, miniature dragon inside it.
Rhokden Strong-Arm stood quickly, reaching back to grip his massive blade. He swung it infront of him with speed you would expect from a longsword using one arm, pointing the tip of the blade to the center of Ryuu's chest. Rhokden said nothing, only frowned, the scar across his forehead wrinkling into an ugly pink line. When the orc spoke, he glanced quickly to her then back to Ryuu. Kicking the cage with the tip of his armored boot, the door fell open, allowing Huoto to exit freely.
Rhokden Strong-Arm lowered his blade, the tip resting against the ground. Sticking his flute into his belt, he crouched down to stow the cage back into his pack. He was slightly upset that this... 'Huoto' had actually belonged to someone. It would have fetched a high price in the Beast Markets back home.
Rhokden Strong-Arm lowered his blade, the tip resting against the ground. Sticking his flute into his belt, he crouched down to stow the cage back into his pack. He was slightly upset that this... 'Huoto' had actually belonged to someone. It would have fetched a high price in the Beast Markets back home. He stood again and leaned his greatsword against the wall again. With a stretch and a yawn, the huge man looked around, revealing more scars along the back and sides of his neck.
When he noticed that Alrion had stepped toward him, his crossed his arms and frowned again, not sure what to expect.
When he noticed that Alrion had stepped toward him, his crossed his arms and frowned again, not sure what to expect.
"I didn't hear." Rhokden said curtly with a shake of his head. When the hunter was in his music, no other sound around him existed. Before he had discovered his great strength, he had been a traveling musician, playing in bars and City Squares for tips, food, or room and board. " But you're in luck, hunting dangerous beasts happens to be my profession. If this is an offer for employment, I'll either need payment upfront, or some sort of guarantee, however." Rhokden smiled slightly, the scar on his forehead wrinkling again.
"Oh ho, there's a hoard involved?" Rhokden asked, his smile turning to an ear-to-ear grin, revealing two missing teeth. He reached forward and clasped Alrion's hand and shook, gripping a bit too tight in his excitment, "Count me in! Where are we headed?"
The setting changes from Wing City Main Entrance to Forest Border
Rhokden Strong-Arm leaned against a nearby tree. He thrust his blade, which he had been carrying the entire trip, into the ground and dropped his travel pack to the ground as well. The light from Ryuutarou's lantern shone on his breastplate. His bare, well-muscled arms were covered in scars of various shapes and sizes. Bite marks, claw marks, punctures, burns... Every type of wound imaginable was evident on Rhokden's arms. Bending his head to the left and then the right, loud pops resounded from his spine. He looked around the group, a smirk on his face, but said nothing.
Rhokden Strong-Arm gave no sign that he had even heard Alrion, except to crouch down and reach into his pack. He produced a large square of of firm cloth-looking material, then gripped his greatsword and pulled it from the ground. Holding it into the air so that the moonlight shone across it, he began to run the square of cloth up and down the blade, producing a quiet rasping noise. All a ruse, of course. He was prepared for battle.
Rhokden Strong-Arm continued 'cleaning' his blade, allowing the elves and the tiger to advance toward him. When they finally reached him, one elf swung his thin blade in a verticle line, aiming for Rhokden's head. Rhokden sidestepped suddenly and spun around, swinging his massive blade in a wide arc. The attacking elf was beheaded, but the twi directly behind and beside him both ducked, avoiding his assault. Recovering from the momentum, Rhokden took three steps back, hold the blade in front of him, the flat facing the enemy to act as a kind of shield. He ducked one slash and blocked a second. Taking a step forward, he kicked one of the elves in the chest, sending him sprawling back into the darkness. When the remaining fair-folk attacked again, Rhokden attempted to side-step, but took a long gash down his left arm.
Then the tiger arrived. It lunged out of the darkness without a sound, knocking Rhokden to the ground and his blade from his hand. The tiger pinned him to the ground and bit at his head, but the man struggled, placing his hands on the beast's chest and pushing, keeping his face out of range.
Then the tiger arrived. It lunged out of the darkness without a sound, knocking Rhokden to the ground and his blade from his hand. The tiger pinned him to the ground and bit at his head, but the man struggled, placing his hands on the beast's chest and pushing, keeping his face out of range.
Rhokden Strong-Arm pushed himself up and stood as soon as the tiger was thrown from him, now engraged. He charged into the trees after the retreating elves, snatching his blade from the ground as he passed it. He was nearly blinded by rage. Everything he could see was red, and was pulsing with his heartbeat. Nothing mattered except for catching up with the enemy and ending their lives. Reaching a straggler at the end of the line, he roared at the top of his lungs and brought his sword up, and then down, cleaning the elf nearly in two. He continued sprinting into the trees, forgetting about his allies.
Rhokden Strong-Arm stood in the center of a massacre. When the fleeing elves had heard him roaring out of the shadows, they had turned to defend themselves. Thinking themselves safe from a single attacker, they fought almost lazily. Their mistake. Rhokden had sliced the first one's left arm and right leg off, leaving him to bleed to death. The second, he beheaded. The third and fourth were impaled through the chest, dying instantly. The fifth one he had let go, to bring the message of his vengence to whomever had sent them to attack. In the end Rhokden had suffered a deep cut to his right theigh, one to his left cheek, one to the very center of his chin, and had been stabbed in the left shoulder. When the rage subsided to a point where he could think semi-clearly, he turned and limped his way back to his group. As he stepped into the area they occupied, he leaned against a tree and slid down to a sitting position, dropping his bone-forged blade to the ground. Battle and rage had left him almost utterly drained of energy.
Rhokden Strong-Arm waved the orc woman away when she approached him. He stood and limped to his pack, reaching in and pulling out a large roll of bandage cloth. He didn't bother cleaning his wounds, he simply wrapped them tightly and tied the bandages off, stopping the blood flow. His cheek and chin he simply let bleed, as they were shallow cuts. As he worked, he listened to talk of traps and ambushes. "Hey, I let one of the fair folk go. They'll either have superior numbers, or they wont be there at all. Only one was left alive from the attack earlier."
Rhokden Strong-Arm sat on the ground, close to the fire. He had not changed his bandages at all since the night of the battle, choosing to conserve his medical supplies. They were hunting a dragon, after all. He expected many more wounds on the journey. He reached out and turned the spit, allowing the other side of the boar(If you'll allow me to be so bold) to cook some more. "Besides, Al... They smell worse than the latrine at our last camp. Who wants to sleep close to that?" Scooting himself further away from the fire, he pulled the flute from his belt and tapped it repeatedly on his knee, attempting to decide on what song to play.
Rhokden Strong-Arm laughed quietly, then slid his flute back into his belt. Standing, he gripped the hilt of his massive blade and pulled it from the ground. Offering it to Alrion, he said, "Blood-Monger taught me to fight." If Alrion were to take the greatsword in his hand, a sudden rush of conciousness would invade his mind, as well as the image of a man, roughly the same build as Rhokden, covered in blood of every color. At the man's feet were the corpses of hundreds of enemies. The image of the man would laugh deeply, then begin to shift through Alrion's memories as if they were items in a box, examining each one closely.
Rhokden Strong-Arm caught hold of Blood-Monger's hilt before it fell to the ground, and thrust the tip into the earth again. "Blood-Monger is not a magic sword as most know it." Reclaiming his seat by the fire, he pulled out his flute again and played a few notes before saying, "I have fought elves before. They do not like it when you hunt for sport in their forests." Rhokden put the flute back to his lips and began to play a slow, sad melody. It spoke of loss, of death, and of deep, burning lust for revenge. If his party were indeed beings with emotional depth, it would surely stir their hearts. At least that was Rhokden's intent.
Rhokden Strong-Arm finished his song before he spoke, sliding the flute back into his belt. After a moment of thought, he said, "They are faster, stronger, more quiet, and more accurate than your average person. This makes them exceedingly arrogant, though. Make them believe they are better than you, and you will have them beaten." He reached out to turn the boar over the fire again, before the side facing the fire began to burn.
Rhokden Strong-Arm glanced up from the fire when Barlock mentioned the Dragon's heart. He stood, also resting his hand on the pommel of his sword, though for a different reason. A frown puckered the scar across his forehead as he said, "No, the heart of the beast will be mine, and no one else's. If I must, I will fight for it.
- Seen 20 Times • Page 1 of 1