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Greenmntman

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About Greenmntman

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    Fangorn Forest
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    Guarding The Wall

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  1. Aidan sat in a chair watching the young woman wander around the room seemingly having a mental break. He kicked his legs up on a second nearby seat, which felt nice especially with his plate armor being stored away for the mission. "Why does there seem to be someone like this on every job recently?" Still, he figured, the promised pay should be good for what seemed to be fairly easy and reasonably safe work. "Good stuff" he thought as he enjoyed a long sip of whiskey from his glass. "It even comes with ice! Whatever this contraption is, it beats the hell out of struggling with crashing waves or smelling horse crap". He decided to take the time to sharpen his broadsword and inspect his longbow. It was rumored he was headed towards the jungle, so he had to dig up his lighter set of armor - hardened leather. It was stiff from lack of use, but still high quality and plenty serviceable. He supposed it would be worth his while to endure wearing it to finally get a big payday again. His luck had been bad recently, and his bank vault was bare. Still, before he left as was filling up several skins of water he promised himself that he was going to play nice, try and be patient with the rest of the crew, get paid, and move on to the next job. As the young woman flopped down on a chair next to him, he asked himself whether he should get involved and see if she needed anything. "Nope". He told himself, before taking another large slip of whiskey. He gave himself only a few days before the promise to himself was starting to strain.
  2. First Name: Aidan Surname: Caledonia Nickname: None Yet Race: Human Marital Status: Single Gender: Male Age: 33 Job Class: Warrior [Physical] Voice: Higher pitched for a man of his size, usually annoyed and whinning Eyes: Dark brown Complexion: Pale Height: 6' 1" Weight: 225 lbs Build: Muscular, broad Hair: Black, short Defining Features: Full coat of high quality metal armor [Mental] Nature: Not that bright, easy to find grievance, opportunistic Hopes: Make lots of money, find beautiful women and good drinks Fears: Not getting paid for a job Likes: Beer, women, money, food Dislikes: People who use big words, elites, magic [Gear] Large two handed broadsword, longbow and quiver usually tied around his back. Full suit of plate armor [Weapons] Broadsword [Magic] None [Abilities] Elite at swordsmanship, better than average strength and stamina even though he is getting to be elderly for a mercenary. [Family] Dead [Friends] Can frequently be found traveling with Ira Chittenden. Was friends with Quinn Nash. Zafira, and Lorelei from "The Motley Crew". Aidan was very young volunteer in the army of his home country of Lydon a small nation across the narrow sea, south of Genesaris. Shortly after he enlisted, the neighboring nation of Namur declared a war of conquest on Lydon. He fought the entire length of the war, and was there during the final defeat of his people. His entire family was believed to be killed during the invasion and resulting fighting. After the war, he has traveled the world making money as a mercenary, and whatever odd jobs he can find. He generally travels with Ira, a fellow former soldier and countryman of his, who Aidan met during the final battle of the fall of Lydon.
  3. Something about this reply bothered Ira. He wasn't sure if he was just missing something and couldn't quite figure it out, or if he just couldn't figure it out. Still, it seemed like quite the meal was heading his way and he could appreciate that. He'd always appreciated the cooks - and it seemed to him that over the decades Alistair had gotten quite a bit better at the craft than he ever could. Still, when the meal appeared before him, he couldn't resist. He tore into the crepes eating the first two of them faster than he could actually taste them. He reached for the orange juice as he let out a belch, the foreign sounding vampire food was actually ... "What the fuck, he never said that aloud" He leapt out of his seat and stared directly at Alistair. "You can read my mind." Ira said as a statement, not a question. My goodness, how incredible that would be..... Suddenly, a brief hot rage burned in him. "Every day he had spent in the castle his mind was being read! Every time he was wallowing in drunkenness! Every time he had thought about fucking Quin, someone else was aware of it! Whip it out and show him how big it is. Better yet beat him to death with it. Fuck you fang face." Ira knew that his mind was being read even now and, that he was well passed the point of absurdity. Slowly, as he eyed another crepe on his plate, another emotion got the better of him. Ira sat back down and just gobbled down the crepe. He had to admit, it really hit the spot. One last thing to quench, as he pushed the plate away, he started walking away towards the door thinking. "Thanks vamp. That was actually pretty great. I will check out the Glen for you. You just keep Quin safe and getting back to health." He paused as he realized he had to know. "Now I am curious, is it all vampires that can read minds or just you? Are you able to read each others minds and all creatures or just humans?" He sat back down waiting for the answer and realized he was actually quite thirsty, he looked around for his glass of water that he had been drinking out of earlier, and remembered how sick of the stuff he was. "Fish shit in it" He grabbed the orange juice and gulped the entire glass down. "Thank goodness. Much better."
  4. "Crepes," Ira thought to himself. "Sounds like some sort of disgusting foreign vampire food that is fit for only the vermin of society." He quickly decided he response, and looked up at Alistair, "I'd love some, I'll try almost anything once." He really did need something to do, and decided that he'd try and play nice. Certainly his parading around the castle as a drunken boar wasn't doing himself any favors. Ira drank more of the water and found himself sobering up for the first time in what might have been several days. At least the crepes were starting to smell good. He decided he'd play along. If Quinn was going to be here for a while until she got her shit sorted out, then he would have to deal with Alistair for a while too. He supposed that doing him a solid couldn't hurt. "I'll bite. What's the bitch work?".
  5. "Something good I hope!" Ira responded boorishly. "I've got to tell you, I could probably use some hot food in me. I'm pretty hungry now that I can stand without falling over." He wasn't sure where Quinn went off to, maybe she was so happy that he complimented her that she was figuring out how to get them out on their own again. He had almost sworn that something followed him into the kitchen, but decided it was must have been a strong gust of wind, after all, there was clearly nothing around but Alistair. Ira looked around and saw that for a thousand year old castle, it was actually a pretty nice kitchen. It had real dishes, and a refrigerator, which made sense to him because he supposed that even vampires needed a change from time to time. If he were to eat the same thing every day for an eternity he figured he'd go nuts. Ira found himself staring at a mug of water and deciding that he should probably drink it. He never liked the stuff, but figured it was good for him. "Fish shit in it" he muttered to himself as he drank up to try and make the sudden onset of spins more bearable. Mildly pleased with himself, he looked up and told Alistair what was on his mind. "Look, I think that it's safe to say that as much as the castle has ranged from very boring to mildly terrifying, neither of us really wants me to be here. Why don't you give me a task, an adventure. Someone to gut when I sober up a bit. I'd bet you have enemies. Humans you want removed, and don't wouldn't mind it if it didn't look like a vampire who did it." He sighed, and managed to gulp down a little more water. "It's safe to say that I am no good to anyone when I am bored. I might even have a problem with alcohol when I get too antsy."
  6. Ira was hearing things again as he struggled to ensure that his knees kept upright. Between the echos off the stone walls, the beer, and the tinnitus that had ruined his hearing at an early age, he found this was a fairly frequent occurrence in this strange castle. To be honest he had forgotten why he was slamming on the door a few minutes ago, but he knew there was a good reason for trying to get at Alistair. "You are yelling at your own door you drunken asshole.". Ira looked around and saw Quinn glaring at him, looking half furious and half like he was to be a pickled entree for dinner. This made sense, his insides felt like a pickle. He admitted to himself that he might have drank more than a bit too much. He felt her pull him across the castle as she lectured him, he supposed somethings didn't change. "What they fuck is wrong with you? You are separated from Aiden for a little while and you fall to pieces!" Boy she was right about that, he missed his buddy, and really hoped that Aiden was doing well. As Ira felt a knot in his stomach rumble, his hair was being pulled as it was cut by one of the staff. Years of fighting together toward a purpose had left him not knowing what to do during his captivity without Aiden, and that might be what he was lacking. As he tried not to drown while the monsters bathed him, he realized that he might just be depressed because Aiden was possibly hurt and on his own. It also occurred to him that he might have a drinking problem...might. He wasn't sure what was causing this state of deep emotion in him, "Girly stuff" he deemed, but it had been a very trying week, and he supposed greater self awareness never hurt. "I'm going to get you some food, then I have a job for you." Quinn looked very pleased with herself now that he was clean. "Quinn!" he spoke out as she turned to leave, "Thanks. I really do need something to stay busy with." He saw her look at him like she was trying to say, 'obviously.' In that moment it occurred to him that something just seemed - different - about Quin. He pointed at her and squinted his eyes. "Did you do something different?" He asked, pausing for a moment to think, "I know!" He spoke like it was a great "ah-ha" moment. He finally had figured it out, he was sure to get on her good side now. "You cut your hair didn't you?"
  7. The entire company filed in at too leisurely pace for the amount of excitement Ira was feeling. Finally getting to deal a blow on their own terms was something that he had spent months waiting for, and it seemed like this might be their first chance to make a dent in the Namurian war effort. Their encampment was several miles behind them though, as two lines of men moved on either side of the main road, hoping to find the supply wagons that were rumored to be coming. Ira was near the front of his column with Quinn a few yards directly behind him. He found this a bit worrisome considering that one misplaced arrow would take a key lifeline for so many. Samuel was in the other group, Ira hadn’t seen him since they took a last swig of Quinn’s firewater before leaving and the entire enjoyment from the evening before had been forgot as quickly as the burn in their throats. It had been rough marching, simultaneously trying to hurry through forest and underbrush while trying to be as silent as a mouse so they wouldn’t tip off whomever was ahead of them. It still caught Ira by surprise however, when he crested the top of a slight ridge and felt a large man crash into him from his left. “Aarg!” he heard himself scream as the two of them went tumbling into the bushes. Ira landed with his legs on the man’s body. He reached down and pushed himself up as quickly as he could in such an awkward position, and drove his fist into the other man’s body. It was only after he started bringing his armback, he actually saw who he was hitting. “Oh shit. You’re a soldier of Lydon.” The armor was unmistakable, even if the wearer was doubled over clutching his stomach and caked in a layer of mud. Ira looked up to see a few dozen more men walking out of the woods, shaking the hands of the others and giving Quinn more than a long double take. One of them stepped forward and addressed Ira, “His name is Lieutenant Hayes, I’m Reilly. We’re what’s left of C Company, after a real rough week for us. Boy is it good to see you guys, that’s assuming you don’t hit me. What the hell are you moving about so quickly for anyways?”
  8. Ira looked up as he sat, his back against the stone walls of the castle, and saw his hand gripping the bottom of a wooden mug. Lit by numerous candles around him in the great kitchen, he had found what amounted to a home tavern while still prisoner in a vampire castle. "Wild" he thought. "One of these dropped from the ceiling, shatters on the ground. Could have a dozen dead vamps with the splinters flying everywhere." It had been a week since he had seen Quinn. He assumed she was either dead or a vampire, and quite frankly, he really wasn't sure which one was worse. He had found some sort of wine- something or another with fangs pointed him in the right direction - and he pretended like he was the honored guest of a drinking competition. At this point he thought that he was more of an amusement for the other residents of the castle than anything, but they had so far left him alone, and he wasn't going to disturb that. His wounds had healed surprisingly well considering the amount of alcohol he had put into his body the last several days. He pushed himself up off his ass, and went over to refill his mug. He didn't dare ask how old the wine was, but he had gotten drunk on much worse over the years. As the wine poured in, he tried to think of how many this was. And when the last time he ate solid food was. As he slowly inched down to sit again, his hand trembled and his mug fell from his grasp. Wine went everywhere on the floor, and as he bent over to clean it up, he caught a reflection of himself in the candlelight. Truth be told, he looked like shit. His beard had been scraggly before he even arrived, but it looked outright inhuman at this point. He hadn't washed himself in a blue moon, and looked more of a sad sack than a fighter of at least some renown. "Time to get up" he said to himself after cleaning the mess. It would have been easier if the world wasn't spinning as hard as it was. He wandered the hall way looking for Alistair. All around the castle he wandered for what seemed like days to a man who could barely stand up. Finally he came to what seemed might be the right place. He walked up to the huge doors to the room and started pound on it. "I know your in there! It is safe to say that I am no good with too much time and too much wine on my hands." If he was sober, or less stir crazy, he might have been more cautious. As it was, he decided to take his chances. "When I sober up tomorrow, either eat me, let Quinn and I go, or give me a quest. Some sort of mission I can do to occupy my time as she figures things out here. I assume she is still breathing after all. After all, she's a fighter, and so am I. Certainly you must have something or someone that needs to die, be stolen, or what not. Your wasting a man of many talents being locked up in here!" @Twitterpated @DarkHorse
  9. Would love to play an antagonist. Certainly Gypsy life would leave many scorned, many enemy’s, and many seeking retribution.
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