Phyrieal The Orc Born

Character NamePhyrieal, The Orc Born
Player NameDrake PhyreDrake Phyre
Concept— Son of a couple failed experiments to raise orc children as elves and see if they could overcome their very nature. His father succeeded for a good long while and then sort of became feral. His mother died in child birth, and he was left for the orcs. The orcs recognized his line by a birth mark however his elven nature was stronger in him he broke from the horde before reaching maturity his body changing to a more elven form his eyes burning with blue fire his flesh a pale grey he wandered trying to find where he belonged when he was found by Lady Ammelindë. She took him in and found him a place with an old blind forest elf who raised him and taught him the elven ways.
Lifepaths— Born Great, Lead to Servant of the Dark Blood, Slave to the Dark, Drinker of the Dark, Knower of Secrets, Master of Eight
Age— 36


Wi Pe Ag Sp Po Fo
B5 B4 B4 B3 B4 B4


Hea Ref MW Ste Hes Res Cir Multi. Hatred
B5 B3 B10 B8 5 B0 B2 x3.5 B6
PTGS Su: B3 Li: B5 Mi: B7 Se: B8 Tr: B9 Mo: B10

Skills— Armorer B5, Blacksmith B2, Demonology B2, Empyrealia B2, Etiquette B5, Mounted Combat Training, Observation B2, Riding B2, Rituals Of Night B2, Servant-Wise B2, Spider Husbandry B2, Void Embrace


#1 We are simply who we choose to be.
#2 I will be an elf not some barbaric monster.
#3 One cannot change ones desires only the actions they provoke.


#1 Bare's his teeth and growls at anyone who stares at him.
#2 Smile's and nods at any girl who smiles at him.
#3 Use Etiquette whenever dealing with humans or elves.
Gear— Elven (Boots, Clothes, Finery), Travelling Gear, Elven Steed(Rebban)
Reputations— 1D The Orc Born
Relationships— Unknown Half Sister: Emurial (Significant, immediate family, romantic love, forbidden)
One of Mirillasëon's Girls: Maedra Valdarin (Minor, romantic love)
One of Mirillasëon's Girls: Redina Edrin (Minor, romantic love)
Liege Lady: Ammelindë (Powerful)
Spells or Rituals
Traits— [Char] Breeders, [Char] Cannibals, [Dt] Cold Black Blood, [Dt] Fanged and Clawed, [Dt] Loathsome and Twisted, [Dt] Lynx-Eyed, Like Blue Flames, [Char] Vile Language, [Dt] Born to Rule Them All, [Char] Fearful Respect Of The Servants, [Char] Stark Madness, [Char] Bat Shit, [Dt] Fey Blood (Fair and Statuesque), [Dt] Enemy of the Sun, [Char] Red Blooded

Weapon Type I M S Add VA WS Strike Dist
Bare Fisted 2 4 6 2 0 Fast Shortest

Weapon Notes
1 Two-handed, may not be used with a shield2 May Great Strike


The walls shimmered like moon light as he looked around the hall, breathing deep, drowning his primal senses in the scent of jade and rosemary. His ears twitched at the soft hum the building sent into the air, he smiled as he walked toward the head of the table. Knelling beside the alabaster throne he bowed his head. “Little Phyrieal, always so humble. You need not kneel beside me little one.” The soft gentle words fell upon his ears with motherly tenderness. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, looking up into the smiling face of its owner he nodded, rising from the floor. The high elven lady ushered him to a seat beside her with wave of her slim hand. Patiently waiting for him to attain his seat, she began “My dear Phyrieal, I was glad to hear that you are doing well. I have other friends who do not fair so well. A young lord by the name of Regner Ulfson is faced with many tribulations.” Concern lined her face as she spoke. “I only wish he had more allies to council him, he is young even for a human, and is burdened with much responsibility. But enough of that depressing topic. How is my dear Mirillasëon?” the hall began to blur the topics drifted like fog, insubstantial in the mist of dreams forgotten by the waking mind only that brief part of their discussion kept its solidity.

He looked about the room as he lay in the bed, his nigh incandescent blue eyes catching the moon light as it reflected off of Redina's ivory hair. Her sketch book lay beneath her supple coal covered fingers, forgotten mid sketch as slumber had taken her as well. Running the back of a clawed hand across her shoulder he slid out from beneath her. Covering her with the silk sheets and furs, he rose, dressing in silence. Gathering up his things and knelling beside Redina, he placed a kiss upon her brow before slipping quietly through the door. Intentionally passing through the sewing room, he laid a gentle kiss upon the cheek of Maedra as she sat at her sewing wheel. Startled she stared after him as he left the bathhouse passing Mirillasëon with a respectful nod, which she returned with a smug expression.

As he entered the courtyard he found his steed, Rebban, saddled and laden with a weeks worth of provisions. As he approached, the stable-hand stammered "He's been fed my lord, Oats with warm milk an 'oney." she must have been one of Mirillasëon's newest mortal born orphans from the way she flinch as he turned his gaze to her.

Phyrieal could see her blue & green sindarin eyes flashing in the moonlight as he spoke "She didn't spoil you like that for every meal did she, boy?" He could see the words dancing about her mouth, but no sound came out until Rebban nudged her head playfully.

Sighing softly she mumbled "Just after his daily long ride my lord."

"Well even you deserve to be a bit spoiled once in a while, don't you boy?" Rebban whinnied happily nudging the stable girls head again. Laughing Phyrieal began to mount the steed his fingers catching in something dangling from the saddle horn. Gaining his perch he examined the item, a soft smile touching his lips as he hung it about his neck. He made his way out of the courtyard and Springdale riding due north to find a particular tree.

Rebban tossed his main as Phyrieal shifted in his saddle to observe the town of Ore-bridge. Rebban, moved into a canter in response to a click of Phyrieal's tongue. Making his way toward the bridge that lead into the sea of tents and hap hazard shelters. Only one true structure stood tall in that teaming ocean of canvas, he made his way there. The Jotun soldiers eyed him suspiciously, shifting hands on weapons as they examined him, his grey skin making them leery. He gritted his teeth, pulling back his lips in annoyance, his fangs and answer to their stares. He managed to reach the structure unhindered, dismounting as a stable hand approached fearfully. "Would you please see that he gets warm milk and honey with his oats, Thank you." The boy started at his word, gulping as he nodded his head furiously before leading Rebban to the stables. Phyrieal examined the establishment, a pair of wooden shields hung beside the double door entrance both bearing carvings of tree limbs. Upon one shields branches there sat a regal falcon, while the other was adorned with a nest. The falling sun cast deep shadows over the inscription that adorned the space above the bust of the door, nobly naming it The Falcon's Nest. The name implied it was an Inn of some sort, though if it were it belonged in a large trading city.

As he reached for the door it opened, a well dressed elderly man opened it from within "Excusez, My lord! We did not expect any riderz z'is late in z day." He spoke with a heavy accent as he held the door open for Phyrieal.

"My thanks Master Inn-keep." Bowing his head to the older man, he entered the establishment, he looked about the entry way. "I am looking for Lord Regner Ulfson"

"I am sorrie, My Lord but ee iz not here. Ze Lady Gissell might speak with jou." The inn-keep informed him, as he lead him up the stairs toward the suites. Approaching one of the more expensive looking suites, he knocked politely. "My Lady Gizzell?"

A servant opened the door to speak "Master Faufile her Ladyship is not receiving visitors at this time." giving him and Master Faufile a dismissive glare.

Turning to Phyrieal, Master Faufile apologized "My apologiez your Lordship…."

A voice called out from deeper within the rooms, interrupting him. "Ezri! Show them in I would like to meet this Lord." Ezri opened the door and motioned them to enter. As they entered the sitting room they were joined by another woman of obvious privilege, her ivory dress swaying with her hips as she approached.

As she began to curtsy, Phyrieal raised his hand to stop her. "My Lady Gizzell, I fear there is a miss understanding I am not a noble. I am here to provide assistance to Lord Regner. Master Faufile said that he was not here and that perhaps I should speak with you." Giving a deep bow, "I apologize for the confusion, my Lady. If you could perhaps direct me to his Lordship then I will not waste any more of your time." straightening as he finished.

"Lord Regner mainly stays in his encampment near the old fortress but surely Master Faufile should have known." Lady Gissell responded in feigned confusion, Francois knew she had a vested interest in any of the political and mercantile endeavours that came to ore bridge. "Might I ask what assistance you wish to offer his Lordship"

"I was asked to offer tactical advise concerning the hordes." Phyrieal answered dispassionately. Bowing, he excused himself "My Lady Gissell, Master Faufile, Ezri, If you will excuse me I have business to attend to." He made his way out of the apartments and Inn, striding over to the stables. The suns red glow back lit the horizon as the last edge of it disappeared. Rebban stood in the stable gorging himself on his dinner as the stable hand began to unclipped the saddle. "Hold boy, He's only here for the meal." The boy spun wide eyed, backing away from Rebban. If Rebban noticed him he gave no sign, even when Phyrieal began to check & tighten the saddle straps. Rebban finished eating as Phyrieal finished checking the straps. Saddling up Phyrieal nudged Rebban out of the stable with his knees. Tossing a silver sovreign to the boy he headed for the military encampment. A couple of Jotun soldiers lead him to Regner's tent, where a man stood giving orders to several soldiers.

"Sergeant Norgard!" Interrupted one of the soldiers as they approached. "Deze man heeft iets te bespreken van met zijne Hoogheid!" Phyrieal caught a few words, Sergeant Norgard eyed him over before making his way into the tent, another soldier began barking orders in his stead. Phyrieal dismounted and tied up Rebban, a few minutes passed before the sergeant returned. Holding open the tent flap, he jerked his head, motioning Phyrieal to enter. Several men in armour stood around a table, draped in maps and field reports.

Sergeant Norgard approached one of the armoured men, "Mijne Hooghied, Deze man vill met jei pratt." Leaving the man's side he took a stance behind and to the right of Phyrieal, his hand on his sword.

The corner of Phyrieal's mouth turned up in a smile as the armoured man took measure of him. "Good Evening, Lord Regner"

"Good Evening, To what do I owe this meeting?" Regner inquired.

"I come to offer tactical advice and assistance with the orc tribes." Phyrieal answered dispassionately, walking up to examine the maps nonchalantly. Removing his gloves, pointing with a clawed hand as his blue eyes glowed in the torch light. "You have the Spurned of Sopur, If they know of your arrival they will come in greater numbers otherwise expect smaller scouting parties. Even if they aren't coming they won't ignore you for long. You have the Stone Gnawers & Earth Runner's to the north if they come it will be over the mountains or under the ground. To the south you have the Mud Claws, Blood Grass, and the…" he paused before snarling the last name, his lips curling back with hatred "…Scar Wings. The Mud Claws roam the hills here, the Blood Grass roam the plains feeding of the towns and travellers." He took a deep breath, setting his jaw he continued through barred teeth. "The Scar Wings travel like nomads, even through the swards. I remember them using the dark-ways to move the bulk of the tribe, but the scouts were said to run with shadows. Even if those where just the stories of the child slappers, they are a viable threat anywhere in Fomoria." Phyrieal stood looking over the maps, as he thought.

"Why have you to offer your assistance? Why betray your kind?" Regner asked.

Phyrieal's eyes burned as he snarled, his fangs bare. "They are not my kind!!!" Sergeant Norgard took a step half drawing his sword, as Phyrieal calmed himself. "I am here because I was asked."

"May I ask by whom?" Regner spoke cautiously.

Phyrieal pulled at the throng around his neck exposing a carved greenwood seal, handing it to Regner for inspection. "Lady Ammelindë." Looking at the maps once more Phyrieal began pointing out likely directions of attack and estimating likelihoods and troop numbers, as Regner starred at the seal. Finally he returned it to Phyrieal and they began the war brief in earnest.

Thellaris stood stoically upon the fore-bow of his ship as it made its way down stream. The lookout had already caught sight of Ore-Bridge from the crows nest, soon he to would bless it with his gaze. The crew scurried about as they furled the sails as the breeze shuttled clouds across the sky. The stone crags melted away to reveal the squalor of Orebridge, the docks sat inside a culvert that lay across from what seemed to be a dilapidated old fort. The current provided enough momentum for them to ease the ship into the dock, they made quick work of mooring the ship. Thellaris disembarked with his men, as they headed to a nearby open space and began to set-up camp. A large building stood in the centre of the massive encampment of refugees and Jotuns. Thellaris surveyed the town, spying a military camp flying Regner's flag. He made his way there, the Jotun guards looked at his cloak and motioned for him to follow taking him to what appeared to be the main tent. They led him in, an elderly man sat at a table across from a young noble. "Erasmus, Hir es mar nogha ein."

Returning his pen to the ink well, the elderly man rose to bow. "You are no doubt looking for His Highness. Sadly he is currently away on official matters, I can see that you gain an audience with him when he returns or take down any message you wish him to receive." He uttered as he reclaimed his seat at the writing desk.

Thellaris eyed him up and down before speaking, "The Goblins of Sopur are preparing to march on Ore-Bridge. A small scouting party is riding this way they likely expect little resistance. A small raiding force a hundred strong has mustered out side its walls, soon they will move. The only question is; Where is Regner?"

Erasmus pursed his lips as regarded Thellaris for a moment. "His Lordship is leading a contingent of troop south west toward Engel's Roust, to face down an approaching force." his eyes holding steady against Thellaris's penetrating gaze. "We thank you on his behalf for the information and will begin making the necessary preparations." followed a formal response.

"Mayhap I might be of assistance, my ship ferried my men here. They are a modest contingent, but also a mobile one. I can have them ride to intercept the goblin scouts on the hour, If that pleases?" He needn't have asked the last. Erasmus was already bobbing his head in approval. "Then if you will excuse me Master Erasmus, I will see it done."

Notes: Phyrieal gets approached by old man calling him fancy, so he points out that Thellaris is fancier, Thellaris notices the old man has stollen a lock of each of their hair, they confront him Phyrieal shows him lady Ammelindë's seal and vouches for Thellaris

Phyrieal stowed the severed lock of hair in his breast pocket as an orange flew at him. Catching it reflexively, Phyrieal stared at the old man who had tossed it his way. An orange this far north and far out of season, it was sure to rouse the curiosity. Phyrieal pealed it expertly, using his claws, twisting it in hand. The skin fell away in coils, leaving the segmented innards. Phyrieal bit into it, juice dribbling down his chin as the delicious taste of sweet citrus flooded every corner of his mouth. Taking a moment to savour the taste, he wiped the juices from his chin with the back of his hand. Laughing as he bowed his head, respectfully to the old man before looking him in the eye. His face all but screaming his thoughts as he smiled, I know you Yhir. Well met. Laughing again Phyrieal walked off blissfully enjoying the rest of the orange, chuckling as he went.

Notes: Thellaris produces his signet ring as proof of his identity getting his hair and a bag of magic yams for his troops. while Regner is gone Thellaris deals with the goblin scouts of sopur.

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