Nemarond Greatfang "The Bloodhunter"

[Zage Wavemourn]

Character Name:
Nemarond Greatfang "The Bloodhunter"

Character Alignment:*
Chaotic Good. (Greater Good)

Desired Affinity Element:
Earth

Place of Birth:
Ratel-Torax

Age:
24

Gender:
Male

Starting Inventory:*
Loin cloth and two tribal, obsidian swords.

Appearance:


Combat styling:
Nemarond fights ferociously with his twin obsidian swords but as one would expect, he is perfectly capable of fighting with tooth and claw. In battle he is ruled by primal instinct and the urge to protect his companions. He often emerges from fighting covered in battle wounds and both his own blood and that of his enemies. Nemarond has a very high vitality and natural endurance, but even combined with his predatory instincts his lack of armor can often be a cause of great bodily harm and often makes him a target on the battlefield.

Character Personality:
Nemarond is fairly intellectual for a race that communicates mostly with body language and he can understand and speak rough Darasumian tongue. He is slow to anger but is unforgiving and he cannot let go of a grudge. His sense of pride and the need to protect his allies has often times, very nearly cost him his life. He is ruled by primal instincts and the will to survive. Nemarond is very straightforward when it comes to life and death, and he often finds his morals conflicting with those of the people around him. During battle he is consumed with a predatory rage, and the urge to kill. Due to his lack of mercy and ruthlessness Nemarond prefers to remain a creature of few words. Albeit not evil, Nemarond is very willing to do evil things for what he thinks is right.

Background Info:
Growing up on Ratel-Torax would be seem impossible to any who did not experience it first hand. Although Nemarond was born into the Greatfang tribe (One of the strongest and only remaining cat-tribes on Ratel-Torax) Nemarond was not a particularly special cub. He seemed to be impacted by his instincts much more then then the other cubs and this often led to fights and scuffles with other members of his tribe. Ratel-Torax is a very hostile and potentially lethal environment for even a veteran warrior, so the childhoods of the cubs are not easy ones by any means. During his childhood though it was discovered that he had a volatile sense of protection towards the younger members of the tribe and that he would give an arm and leg to protect them.. sometimes nearly literally. Nemarond quickly became recognized as one of the most valued members of his tribe and the chief of the clan began to take a special interest in him. He was honored to have been noticed by the chief, but unlike most of the other large males of the tribe, Nemarond had no real interest in being chief of the tribe. It seemed as though all that drove him was the need to protect his chief and tribesmen.
Not long after his 19th summer, Nemarond had become the chief's second, and vowed to protect his chief and his tribe from any who might endanger them. As was soon discovered this was not an easy task, with hordes of undead and other foul beasts lurking in the forests on Ratel-Torax. Day after day, Nemarond fought with the chief and warriors to protect his tribe from necromancers and undead and he quickly gained a wide assortment of battle scars and experience hunting. It seemed like nothing would get through these creatures and soon the Greatfang tribe would be able to spread out their territory across more of the island.
After a few weeks of less undead incursions then usual the chief and some of the other warriors in the tribe let it get to their heads, they decided to venture further away from their tribe then had been done in ages. Nemarond refused to question his chief and although it went against his instincts he simply followed them deep into the jungle. When the warrior's returned to their tribe a few days later, what they found would tear their tribe apart forever.
They came back to find the blood and bodies of their tribe-mates scorn about the village and the scent of necromancy wafting through the air. Searching through the camp amongst the bodies and the carnage, all that was found was an illegible scroll with a few drops of blood on it. The few warriors that remained could tell that this was not the blood of their own, and so they handed the scroll to Nemarond. Nemarond allowed the scent of this blood to fill his nostrils and consume him and he knew imdiately that this was the blood a human. He let out a ferocious roar and took off into the jungle. Although he searched alone for days on end, he could find no body, or any sign of the scent, Nothing. Nemarond returned to the chief as something else, more animal then he had ever been before. He swore then to hunt till the day that one of them die, the human who took his tribe from him.

RP sample:
The sound of his steps were inaudible over the sounds of the jungle. Nemarond stalked slowly through the forest, letting his instincts guide him. He was on the hunt, nothing would deter him from his goal and he would taste blood on his fangs this night. Tonight he was alone, his only goal was to eliminate the chief of a tribe that had attacked them the evening before. With the scent still fresh in his nose, Nemarond lurked closer to his target.

Through the trees Nemarond could see the light of the fire, only the chief and his second had been able to retreat from the attack, and the chief's second was badly injured - lying on the ground barely conscious.. Nemarond pushed the branches and vines aside as he stepped forward into the clearing.

"Yyyyoooooouuuuuu willlll dieeee tonight."

Nemarond let the words slowly rumble from his throat, before speaking again. The chief leaped to his face and faced the sudden threat with a deep, guttural growl, his second barely shifted on the ground where he lay. Nemarond spoke again,

"You will learn what it is to fear, I will rip open your throat and watch your blood spatter onto the cold ground. You will pay for what you have done to my tribe."

Nemarond walked forward with purpose, and death in his eyes. Tonight this intruder would pay for what he had done. He struck his obsidian blade forward and into the chief with a sickening crunch, Pulling the chief further onto his blade his stared deep into his eyes. As he had expected, there truly was fear there, they would be safe from this enemy for a long time. He twisted his blade with a loud crack, and ripped his claws across the chiefs throat. Bright red blood sprayed across the jungle floor. Nemarond was not done yet, as there still remained the chief's second. Flipping the injured warrior onto his back, Nemarond looked down at the pitiful creature. A young warrior probably not much younger then himself. But he had no room for feelings, Nemarond knew what must be done. He knelt down and slit the young warriors throat ruthlessly and effortlessly. He was not one for mercy. Looking down at the blood around him, Nemarond let out a roar that could have woken the dead from their eternal sleep....
His rage was..sated for now... though he knew it would only be a matter of time before he would hunt again.