#pineful-pyxels

[foxsimthings]

Niqa Tuskcutter for @pineful-pyxels Aradia Kemp!

Big Happy Family | Active - Ambitious - Loner Knight | Young Adult | Orc Outcast

private dl if chosen

warnings for mentions of death, murder, famine

I am not my clan.

I was not my clan even at my birth, when they bit the strand between my mother and I and named me Niqa. Every orc has a yoke of his own. We are born with broad shoulders to bear the weight of what our clan insists of us. We are born into fealty, into loyalty. Loyalty or death. And my yoke was like my mother’s, like her mother’s. While my brothers waged wars with the best of our clan, we toiled at the water’s edge with our nets and our lines. We fed the instruments of war our clan made of our boys but I could fight as well, I would fight for my clan if they would let me. 

They spat my sex at my feet like a curse and left me behind.

I was not my clan when food began to run out, when the rivers began to dry. A hard, hot summer made tensions brittle and a lean, frigid winter broke us. The fighting was tremendous; hate covered our village, a layer of ice atop the snow that killed our crops, now threatening to kill us.

When the sun finally came out, we had killed so many of our own it was impossible to tell enemy from friend any longer. My brothers and father were dead, my mother lay dying and all the chieftain could tell me was that this year would be better.

This year would be better.

I was not my clan when I whispered my good byes that night. I was not my clan when I took my father’s sword, when I pulled the torch from its bracing and moved for the last time across the place of my birth, its ground forever stained with the blood of my people, my family. I was not my clan when I lit the lashings atop the chieftain’s hut and waited for him to exit, and I was not my clan when I cut his throat and let him beg me for his life.

They could have killed me when they saw what I had done. They should have; I stood in the village square with his head and watched them come but I felt nothing. Neither fear nor relief. Only the hot blood on my legs.

They cut my tusks and branded me a traitor. Kill one orc and you become a traitor; the chieftain killed many more that winter but no one would demand any better from him. Broken at their feet, tusks blunted by their hateful blades, they left me there in the woods to die.

But I didn’t die.

It was the humans that found me, swollen with flies and breathing my last but as they drew their blades all I could croak was, ‘I am not my clan.’

They gave me a second chance. It was more than my own clan would afford me, would afford any of us. The humans owed me nothing. They had every right to leave me there to my fate, to fear what I was. I was tall and strong even then, a girl of sixteen winters, but I promised them that I am not my clan and they let me prove it. 

I am grown now. No human stands so tall as I, no horse in their stables as strong. Many still regard me with fear, with uncertainty - have I any right to blame them? 

They have let me fight for their queen, an honour never afforded to me before. They taught me to use my father’s sword, gave me purpose. The orcs that pass through know what I am for the size of my tusks but the wise ones say nothing of it; only sneer and murmur in our hometongue. 

But I am not my clan. I never was. 

Personality:

Driven. Niqa spent the first years of her life being underestimated, forgotten and left behind. Her work ethic is hard to beat and she’ll stop at nothing to see her goals accomplished.

Loyal. There’s very little Niqa wouldn’t do for the humans that saved her and gave her a chance to be more. Even when she was still with her clan, what she did she felt was for the good of her people.

Stoic. She’s also regarded as being a little bit hard around the edges, but for the most part Niqa keeps her feelings to herself.

Cliche heart of gold. She’s a tough nut to crack, but there is goodness in her. Promise.

Brave. There isn’t much Niqa fears and she’s more than willing to stand at the front. She’s a tank through and through, and she’s at her best when other people are afraid or someone needs protecting.

🎶

[urb-z]

b e l l a s ♡ e l y s l i for @pineful-pyxels​ roll for seduction

f a q traits: hot headed, self assured, loves the outdoors aspiration: freelance botanist age: 112 sexuality: pansexual pronouns: he/him class: druid race: elf

b i o when bellas was very young the village where he and his parent lived was burned down. he was the sole survivor. bellas’ goals largely encompass drinking, dancing and tending to his garden. he may be a himbo, but he’s had his moments. he has his uses. also, he lives for chaos, so tends to be pretty secretive about any information he may know, even to his own team. you’ll always find him muttering snarky comments.

[dettea]

🌱☁️ the person that sent this to you wants you to have a beautiful day and to tell you, you’re beautiful and you’re worth it! send this to 10 other ppl when you get this message!! ☁️🌱

aaa thank u so much!!!💖💖💖

[highclasssandbox]

@pineful-pyxels​ Brewar Kirimira for Roll for Seduction

Musical Genius | Arrogant | Hot-headed | Charming | Competitive | Great Storyteller | Music Lover

This is the tale of The Bringers of the Black Sky, now commonly known as orc bows. It is said that a Black Sky can launch arrows three times harder and five times farther than any normal bow, and that it requires the strength of ten men to draw. Though, as we know, orc Elders are wont to exaggerate their tales now and then.

Our story starts with a nameless orc clan, lost to time. In the ancient traditions, as with most orc clans, the women were primarily hunters and gatherers and the men were warriors, waging battles against humans and rival orcs alike. They did not use bows in combat, as it was seen as dishonorable to not fight face to face. It was considered an affront to the orc god, Gruumsh.

One day, in the clan in our myth, an orc presented to his wife, the bow he had taken from a vanquished human foe. She began using this bow during her hunts and promptly realized its utility. It was too small for her hands, however, and her immense strength and limited dexterity often lead to snapped strings. Using the bow as a template, she made one more fitting of an orc. She made the strings from thick Giant Spider silk and fashioned the body and arrows from hardy black oak. News of her hunting prowess spread and in short order most of the women of the clan had a Black Sky bow of their own and the orcs flourished.

As time passed, the humans, seeing the prosperity of the orcs, waged war against them, unleashing a plague throughout the clan. The specifics of how this pestilence spread vary from Elder to Elder, but all involve the cruelest of cunning schemes. Little did the humans realize that the sickness only appeared to afflict male orcs. What was assumed to be a swift and certain coup, soon turned bloody as they proudly marched toward orc territory that bright day. When they neared the edge of the clan’s domain the sun was abruptly engulfed by a black rain of arrows. Later, rival clans, hearing of the human invasion, rode out to take the land for themselves. They were not expecting to find a pile of corpses stuck through with arrows that pierced their armor. Even less that second eclipse.

Our tale brings us now to the present day where Brewar, a direct descendant of she who first wielded The Bringers of the Black Sky, is looking for a heart to call home. Born from a tryst between a human bard and an orc mother, Brewar came into this world fighting. She has spent her whole life struggling to fit in with her orc mates. Day after day coming home battered and broken. Orcs and half-orcs alike love fighting to be sure, but Brewar was no match for the shear size and strength of her full blooded brethren.

On a cool fall evening, Brewar chanced to hear a bard singing in a tavern not far from her home. She ventured in and to her delight was not shunned by the mostly human crowd filling the bar that night. The singer’s voice filled her with a wild passion she had not known dwelt within and she nearly burst with joy. She danced and swayed and drank too much grog. It was the best night of her life! She ventured home in the wee hours of the morning filled with a soft hope and a warmth that had never existed before. Maybe there was a place for her in this world after all. A place filled with laughter and love instead of violence and pain.

That very day she left the only home she had ever known, never to return. She set out to find happiness and to learn how to make others laugh and sing. Brewar honed her lyrical skills on crowds in bars who were quite enchanted by the novelty of someone like her on the stage. Shortly she was filling pubs and inns across the land. People clamored to hear the half-orc enchantress. Everything was turning out better than she could have ever dreamed. The only thing missing was someone to share it with.

Private DL if chosen. I hope you like her! Sorry it took me so long!

[rainyyjayy]

Uhhh here’s my best shot at @pineful-pyxels Roll for Seduction

Name: Roxanne Peri, Queen of the Sea Occupation: Pirate. Obviously. Race: Human Aspiration/Traits: Fabulously Wealthy; Self-Assured, Ambitious, Glutton

Roxanne is a snarky, money-loving kinda gal. Her home was burnt to ashes at a young age by Lord Landgraab, sparking her desire to plunder the homes and cities of the rich. She’s worked her way through countless pirate crews, and has made quite the name for herself in her world travels. Her motto is “you can’t commit crime if you ain’t cute.”

[simightymandrake]

I really love banshees, which are kind of like ghosts but they scream loudly when someone is about to die

Same here! Banshees are always at the top of my list of favorites. Whether or not I include them depends on the whole Seelie/Unseelie thing.

I know you see the Courts in later and modern Irish folklore, but I think originally it was just Scottish. If I want to keep things simple for clarity, I would put the Bean-nighe in place of the Banshee.

Maybe I just mix and match with Irish, Scottish, and English folklore- since in the save those places wont exist anyway. I can have counterparts debating who is better at their “job.”

Or just make use of the Solitary Fae classification and say the Banshee is “from out of town,” copping out giving a kinda playful reason as to why, in a section about Scottish folklore, there is an Irish Fairy/Spirit.

Thank you for your idea~!