The Warchief gives him a stern look, then a paused breath.

White teeth revealed as the orc smiles. A scoffed laugh mused the air, entertained by the stinky mans audacity. His nostrils expand sucking in the lingering odor trying to understand what he has to offer, since the merchant says he can give them more power.

What power does he have that the Warchief didn't have already? Standing tall and boulder-like, questions loom his mind. "A half-elf proposes that they have something that is more powerful and more successful than I? Prove it."

"You say you come in peace?" The warchief's keen nose reacted. A twitch of irritation in his face came with a snarled sniff. Even if the nomads settlement was a temporary one, they didn't want his presence to taint the area. "Then why do you smell like that?" The chief pointed with the pillar of sharpened metal that he claimed as a sword giving them much needed space away from each other. 

"Now."

They moved hastily

She told him what to do. He didn't necessarily have to honor any of it, most men would have run after the mere idea. Yet, here he was. Alone again. Pue nowhere to be seen, but the last sighting of her was direct. "Make a trade contract with these nomads, supply them, show them the power you wield." This was hours ago, the idea would linger for a bit but it wasn't intriguing for most, except if you were a deviled eye merchant?


-


Warchief Khatgrozz, An monumental orc of the Kishann's Roar; neutral nomads. Though as neutral as orcs could ever be. Stood in the morning dew right outside of his mating hut, grass and twigs crunched beneath his calloused feet. He wasn't hostile to outsiders but nor was he the friendly type. Orcish noses caught a hint of the half-elf's scent a long moment ago but why did he smell of absolute plague? There wasn't a particular smell that normal noses could sniff but orc's were more keen to beast than men and their sixth sense of danger was on high alert as it came closer. He said in a guttural tone. "Who goes there?" gripping the handle of a giant sword that was more of a representation of a 400 lb hunk of iron.

__________________QUICK STATS


Name Khatgrozz Of Kishann's Roar
Age43
Gender Male
Species Green Pureblood Orc
Height7'7
OccupationWarchief


__________________IN-DEPTH STUFF


Physical Description
A severely traditional orc. Barbarian ornaments reign supreme lightly coating highly dense muscle. Skulls and furs of slain monsters drown Khatgrozz as a seasoned warrior. A grass green massive orc weighting around 900-1000 lb of aggressively lean muscle. A headful of healthy black braided dreads hanging low to his elbows. Sharpened bones twist and weave ceremonialistly down his dreads supported by his neck that was equivalent to a tree log. 

Personality
Barbarian in appearance and just as much in personality. Holding tradition and culture over practicality. Warchief Khatgrozz is very much the embodiment of a man who is peaceful because he has unattainable violence that nobody wants to contest. Becoming a warrior of sustained confidence built by the amount of combat prowess of himself and his brothers and sisters.

History
Warchief Khatgrozz and his tribe called Kishann's Roar are traveling nomads going wherever they please. Remaining mostly unprovoked as they have stayed in the peace of neutral areas. Now residing in the lush forests of Serendipity Riverlands.

"The orcs of these lands." She hailed. The very mention of such darkspawn was ill, however who she was dealing with was a phenomenon. In the moderation of city morality there was this one deviled eye merchant who stood in front of this unknown beast and didn't just stand his ground, he embraced. Was it greed or was it something malicious?

Pue gave a hair-raising smile. The conviction in her voice could curdle blood. She wanted it all, she wanted it now. "Come with, convince them to unite with me."

The claymore forged in the construct's scornful bile became so sickly in diseases that it'd deconstruct flesh on contact, crumbling skin and muscle in malodorous decay. The accumulation of plagues was so toxic that it glowed in power, screaming against the air as it radiated extreme bioluminescent heat. "Praise" The stomached plague forge stewed with buttery blobs as it repaired itself from being gloriously impaled.

The merchant's new weaponry reflected in the blacks of the cows eyes. "Then you will die." She spoke with complete confidence in her product. It was an extreme selling point, a double edged sword, but a purposely designed inventory of certain death.

The grimace of robed limbs unveiled its insides. Like a ribcage opening like a mouth, the maw inside was a blinding horror. Unharmonious shapes and holes swirled in and out in greased perilousness. The extravagant muse of gormandizing organs drudged the air with steam. Grazing cesspools of clogged fats and muscle jumbled passionately with a green ichor. "Invest your blades"

 Pue gave him an example, using one of the longswords it had in one of the arms and stabbed itself deeply inside its meaty core. Showing no signs of discomfort, unbothered by the pain of injured regenerous flesh. "Impale and they will be prophesied, unmatched in malice." Unsheathing the longsword out of its bloodied greens. Molding the blade in a permanent plasma, framing the modern weapon in plague.

"Nothing. In. Return." She said slowly and generously. Hoping the merchant would keep an open mind despite the warnings in his eyes. "The blessings of our flesh and blood, coating these instruments, will manifest our reach far beyond." The intention of infection. There was a joy of man's own corruption, entertaining the idea of mortal wars spreading its plague faster than it can itself.

"Tainted by our enchantments, victims of your instruments will fear the pain and suffering of having our acidic plagues heal their imperfect souls with cleansing boiling." Hands opposed the sun above, splitting arms up high in ceremonial fashion. For what it has learned in language it has come to appreciate the beauty of theater. "Your pain will be feared across the lands."

Pue's face was an elegant smile, almost good-natured if it wasn't accompanied with the feverest snicker of her fathers head. Cheeks and forehead crinkling upwards in the most thirsty widespread teethsuckingly smile. Drawn towards the dagger for a noticeable second until his sight met the holder's eyes again. "We are approaching." His voice, coarse with intention.

The enormity of hands and heads entangled closer just until they met the reach of the second sigil. Giving him the adequate space that he desired and giving the entourage of predatory elongated limbs the sensation of cosmically reading his flesh. All the mountainous monster needed to sense every single vein and fiber in your body was to be just close enough, perhaps a few spears lengths.

Though it thought that range was a weak design and wanted to increase its influence. The girl spoke, her voice like a soft wind casting over a still ravine of endless blood.
"Your instruments of war."
"Let us bless them with our divinity."

Slight dust drafted upwards in the monster's sudden stop. Cautious of the grounded spells, agitatingly horse digging with one of its front hooves.  Swaying side to side in a momentarily excited spasm, rowdy hands had grooved some of the monster's stolen books with finger strength. 

It was obedient and gave the merchant his desired space between them but nothing more than was offered. There was an obnoxious temptation to touch the sigils, it kindled some strange happiness. Thumping the road just a tad in bodily bliss as the heads studied the magic that was shown. "You've drawn a dagger, yet you still have an ear for us?" The head of Pue spoke while the head of a dog sniffed the ground for any alluring scents. One of the cow heads was dumbfoundedly staring at the merchant while the other cow flopped its ears in a battle of a single fly.

In a rush the last head came forth from deep within the mass of limbs. Pue's father held by his hair came eye to eye with the rest of them. "You've drawn a questionably strong one?" Eyes squinting at the silver glow that contrasted the midnight blade. Karvor Amberbrand came in fatherly defense "You'll hear us out?"

It's a struggle. A human one at that. Sometimes they don't see things for what they truly are. The merchant saw the construct of what they wanted it to be. That was the struggle, of not knowing how to show how much love it can give.

A tenacious hug of infection in the merchant's corpse had parasitically dragged the body's weight up the road. Blood that poured out of his eye drained back in as a telepathic force vacuumed all of the body's fluid down into its legs. Flesh, bone and blood bended effortlessly as a cosmic force slowly levitated the human body closer to everlasting peace.

A mild stomping of sluggish mass started to appear, collecting the corpse it had infected with its plague. What people would see as a curse, it believed it was pure indoctrination of blessing. It offered a righteous and merciful peace that the corpse of a deadman couldn't refuse.

A peace of never having to struggle, stress, cry or feel pain ever again. His consciousness will be reborn and live in the uterus embodiment, cradling his meat within the biles of its undying carpentry of sinew.  Cow heads upon tens of arms held high began to moo in pleasurable accomplishment. Waving and primitively dancing as the hivemind rejoiced in his baptism of bodily deconstruction.

From the middle of its shapeless mass rested the head of a girl speaking without a body. "Will you let me get closer?" She yelled at the merchant ahead. They have witnessed the man's baptism, a divine rebirth of his consciousness and perhaps they are intrigued? Pue Amberbrands eyes saw the wagon and the crates upon them and could identify the type of goods they carried. The sharp kind. "I have a proposition for you!" The leading man had red eyes and to them that was definitely a sign to proceed. It was drawn to strange things, especially this one since it hasn't seen anything like him before. It wasn't just the rarity of colored eyes but his stature and gait. It hasn't seen such a composed individual yet.

Bantering, Pue repeated as it walked closer "I have a good proposition for you." Cow and horse legs underneath a chitin-like structure slowly crawled forward. Pue with an open mouthed smile.

At the end of the day there was softness in the air, a monumental comfort in knowing that around these parts was ever-present love. Fresh sanguine blood dripped down its hands. The warmth of an open body was a consistent pleasure to the construct. What looked like a mass of surgically peeled meat was originally a deer, carefully deconstructed for assimilation. In one of its many hands it assimilated its brain and loved the simplicity of its mind.

 The natural cycle of life and death was simple in forest lands away from civilization.  The necromized construct had gazed into the sunrays that escaped through the forests leaves. Taking a moment to pause in the movement of river winds. Sound tickling. There was this vast sensation in its bones when it had realized the spectacle of modern civilization, hardly older than itself.

The titillating progression of this society might've been a bore but the advancement from caveman to massive iron kingdoms in quick succession brought it some eagerness.  The virus-ridden construct took it in, the social networks at work connecting every town and kingdom together, an addictive economy of constant demand and unrest.

What most people would excuse as a repetitive curse of everyday labor, the construct saw it as a puzzle to solve. It wanted to understand this world's needs and how to make it more simplistic like the deer it just hunted. The necromorph was only a few days old, however in that time it had already absorbed the ability to comprehend language. It learned that language is understandably complex but there was an unnecessarily manipulative evil that wasn't present in animals.

It carried five decapitated undying heads, plagued with necromantic energy. Their eyes glared in unison, a compulsive craving, some would say an inappropriate appetite, purging even, for accumulating biomass. In the many arms of several lengths it had carried the heads of farmers. Pue Amberbrand and her father Karvor Amberbrand, absorbing their bodies, consciousness and intellect. For the past few days the construct had a longful itch that forest creatures couldn't scratch. Unlike the animals of the forest it had found a conscious purpose in this world, a primal one. A purpose that was driven by the understanding of true love and peace that only single-minded creatures had. That it wanted to share that peace with the civilizations around and the only way of doing that was assimilation of body and soul.

Within the next few days of birth it had confronted traveling merchants on the roads. The word would go around that a demonic beast was spotted in the roads, screaming at them. Some of them would go missing without a trail but the ones who fled and escaped had only described the monster as hundreds of limbs carrying cow heads.

The swarming construct waited patiently for the next wanderer before revealing itself. Covered in the shadows of  trees and behind the green of bushes. Besides the monstrous and shapeless appearance it was now carrying religious doctrines in many hands. Garbing its arms in red silks and handling stolen weapons, praising them high in worship of itself. "SALVATION. CONVERT TO US." An angelic voice coming from the decapitated head of a girl, resting in a palm that centered their view.

What are your favorite kinds of plots and relationships to play?
Coming from a superhero and sci-fi RP background made me pretty experienced in expecting political and war roleplays. Where there is a slow build up until dramatic conflict and trauma between sides/characters begin to ensue. This ends up leaning towards months or even years of world building and planning. However, I'm pretty chill with anything tbh

What are your least favorite kinds of plots and relationships to play?
I like speed and the theatrical so if a plot isn't very dramatic or adventurous THEN I WILL MAKE IT ONE.

What are your favorite character types to play?
I usually tend to play psychopathic characters very well. I will always try to make massive monster hordes which takes months to world build but will probably end up making a normal human on the way to ease any creative itching. I like starting barebones in personality and build them up based on their setting, becoming a product of their environment. 

Are you a planner or a pantser? Do you prefer to pre-plan and stick to a script when posting, or do you prefer to surprise and be surprised?
I will always plan an introduction then massively improvise depending on characters IC actions. I will have a end-game goal in mind but how and when I get there will be determined on others.

How do you feel about group threads?
I usually make events or stories that are more suited for groups because I'm a horde/cultist type of writer, usually. I have had a lot of practice in rps where it was just me interacting with multiple other writers (up to 7 at one point) and successfully satisfying all their needs.

How often can you reply to any given thread? How long should a partner wait before nudging you for a post?
Depending on my partners schedule and mine. Desired post length. It can vary from once or twice a day. If I'm responding to multiple characters in one post it can take a day or two.

What is the longest you're willing to wait for a reply to a thread?
Weeks. But if they wana continue then just ask yeyeye

How do you feel about instant messenger RP?
I didn't know that was a thing.

How do you feel about post volleying/rapidfire RP?
I've never done it but I'm willing to try

What's your preferred posting style? Long posts? Short posts? Anything and everything?
I like the 3-7 paragraph range for me. If I'm juggling multiple characters then it will go beyond that. The people I'm roleplaying with can post however they want. I usually write very graphic content (gore) and oversell A LOT

Any RP styles/habits that you love?
I've had a lot of success with characters that are trying to slay or collect a bounty. I usually play a evil sided character so interacting with true blues and military types is great for me.

Any RP styles/habits that you avoid?
I can vibe with pretty much anything


What are you limits regarding powerplay/godmoding?
I don't mind anything as long as it's reasonable. I will always try to sell everything despite power levels be it a physical sell or emotional one.

What are your limits in regards to romantic situations?
I doubted anyone wanted to date any of my creations UNTIL THIS ONE GIRL, SHE WAS FREAKY. IT WAS NOT OK. I DID GO ALONG WITH IT THOUGH.

What are your limits with regards to graphic content such as sex, violence, drug use, sexual assault, etc? What is your comfort level?
No limits besides snoo-snoo. Time skip it LOL.

What are your limits in regards to pregnancy within plots?
As long as it doesn't offend anyone ig. I have no opinion.

What about healing?
As long as it's reasonable to the plot.

What about characters being transformed against their will?
As long as it's reasonable to the plot.

Anything else?
I vibe w anything

"Look!" A daughter pulled on the sleeve of her father. Eyes in awe.
"A shooting star!" Pointing with the tippy top of her finger was a construct entering the atmosphere. Like a masterstroke against the canvas sky, it loomed the question of mystical might.

At first glance, it indeed was a falling rarity but the father didn't need a lot of magical sense to understand. It glazed and twisted reality, turning and circling disobeying laws of physics. "Get inside." The farmer's words struck true, his land was one of herds and cultivation. The usually docile herds had awoken with clenched teeth. Anyone would have understood the blight that was upon them as the cows screamed. Dreadful presence gravitated upon them as the blazing light purchased their sights with pain. It took one final turn, changing its flight path in the direction of farmland, seeking prospering life. 


It gurgled the midnight sky, quieting moonlight in red. It shrieked fire and swarmed with blinding heat as gravity pulled. From the stars beyond, a madness has fallen and will soon rebirth the world into a fetus-esque state, drowning in its cosmic wavelength.

An unforeseen anomaly crashed down from the void of infinite space. Internal lunacy rabidly spawned from its crater, centered in a burning farm, was now a grinding pit. Screams of terror as wildlife, herds and family were pulled. Feeding a shapeless chitin-like stone, etched with hellred markings, had cursed the surviving fleshed forms around to ritualistically attach themselves together around its rock body. Crushing bone and tendons into nameless pools of terraforming until the meteorite took form as a necrotized construct. Becoming a conscious embodiment of plagued necromantic and primal energy



A smooth chitin construct with the repetitive pattern of talking decapitated heads in the palms of many humanoid arms. A nameless pool of limbs had crabbed itself into the edges of the construct, standing itself on many muscular legs borrowed from a mixture of cows and horses. Moving like a freshly evolved lifeform, basic but efficient having animal legs on the bottom of its shell similarly to a potato bug. Randomly attached antenna-like arms surround its upper side which could reasonably be its torso, a few of them holding five heads as selective voices. Two of the five are the decapitated heads of a deranged cows, one is a golden retriever puppy and the other two are the human heads of a daughter and father. The freshly birthed construct stands a fluctuating height depending on its accumulation of organic mass. Averaging 7-8ft.

THE VOICE OF DIVINITY
A teenage female human head has become one with the necrotized hivemind. Yet they can still recall their original names. Her head is still fully intact and forever bleeding neckdown in perpetual regeneration. A saddened look in her jaded green eyes with bloodied blonde hair, the freckled girls personality has been corrupted by the construct believing that her new form is completely divine. Pue Amberbrand is the constructs favored head to communicate having a softer and innocent subtly in her voice.

THE VOICE OF THE DEVOURED
The fathers head was not so easily infected, still having some semblance of agony. It is a rather unsettling scenario but the construct keeps his voice because it finds Karvor Amberbrand entertaining enough in his sorrow. Tormenting the man as the necromorphed daughter pillages forests of wildlife.

THE VOICE OF THE HUNTER
A rather optimistic puppy in the hands of its new caretaker. The puppy was found abandoned and left to stray. Pue found some sympathy for it and convinced the construct to use it. Naming the golden retriever "Nordol" The dog is the respectful nose of the hive mind that seeks biomass to accumulate.

For what is known locally is that a brutal evil slowly travels towards the fell.