Through the Looking Glass

Well the recruitment thread for Wonderland seems to have stalled for the moment (as this is my first time applying for a play by post i'm not entirely sure how this usually works, though I have been told that they are usually left open for a week or two to gauge interest before the game starts) so I don't really have much to report on that front yet.

I did think that it might be a good idea to actually put the character sheet and background up here though instead of just linking to it so that I have a web formatted version of it just in case the thread dies off.


Orlan Durigar

Dwarven Vagrant

He never meant to abandon kith and kin or to and up living a life of exile, but the stone gods are often cruel and even in death Ymir has a strange sense of humour when it comes to his children – more than willing to curse one and make him a dwarf in name only – too afraid of the cold and the dark and the closed in to make the voyage home and too embarrassed about it to ever willingly bare his face to a member of his own kind again.

So now he hides amongst those who live up above and have forgotten how wide the world may be, eking out a living through small tricks, small magics and a willingness to scrap and steal. He blends in, stays quiet (a table up the back and out of the way – where he can tinker and his toys and come and go unnoticed) concealing old wounds and odd features but he has not forgotten what he is and from whence he came and every so often he finds himself drawn out by others like him – those that don't quite fit into this 'normal' world, others who remember that there is something [i]more[/i], for a dwarf as aloof as Orlan gets lonely from time to time.


Skills:

Craftsman (+2):

Dwarf kin are typically obsessive tinkerers and craftsmen and Orlan is no exception – spare moments rarely see his hands unoccupied and his pockets are always full of various odds and ends. This makes Orlan a consummate repairman and patch-maker, but his real joy comes from turning things to unintended uses and the creation of little 'friends' to keep him company.

Sharp Eye (+4):

Even half hidden under heavy brows Orlan's eyes are sharper than most. He rarely misses anything and has an especially keen eye for anything that looks to be of value or of potential use. He is an expert scavenger and discerner of details – and it doesn't hurt that such an ability lends itself well to the use of crossbow and throwing knife.

Over-active Metabolism (-2):

Dwarves are well known for their healthy appetites but Orlan takes it a step further. Given the nature of his arm and his abilities he burns through energy rather quickly and so has to eat slightly more often than your average dwarf to stay at full strength. On the flip side if he does not eat often enough he finds it harder and harder to use his abilities at all – up to and including his arm, leaving it as little more than dead weight until he happens upon his next meal.


Supernatural abilities:

Golemancer (+4):

Before his self imposed exile, Orlan was a famed practitioner of Golemancy amongst his own kind and it is a craft that he has embraced to even greater degree upon coming to the surface world – to the point where he would most likely not be able to survive without it. He is extremely proficient in the animation of normally in-animate objects both large and small – typically smaller golems are pre-crafted by Orlan before animation and are more delicate and intricate and able to act on commands with semi-independence – even when controlling several at once. Larger golems are are significantly more difficult and are often a lot less precise – both in the objects that make them up (Orlan typically just draws what ever he can for the immediate area) and in the complexity of commands that they can follow (usually limited to 'clobber' or 'whomp'). They also must be made on the fly, given the high amount of energy required to create and maintain them (Orlan will be heavily fatigued and hungry after using a large golem for any extended period) and simply because you generally cannot conceal an 8 foot, 1 ton walking pile of detritus and debris built for smashing with any ease.

Clockwork Arm (+4):

At some point in his youth Orlan lost the use of his right arm (and he generally does not like to talk about the why and the how) he has however seen fit to replace it with an arm of his own creation – one of bronze clockwork and small piston cleverly grafted onto the (long ago healed) wound which saw the loss of his natural one. Orlan animates it in the same way he animates all of his other creations but he has become so familiar with so that it requires no more concentration than it would to move than any other limb and so it thus works just as effectively as the the one he lost (although being made of metal it obviously much stronger and more durable and if Orlan so desires can take attachments that he has crafted for specific uses - also is a given that Orlan will try to keep this concealed in public, i.e. under coat and gloves).

Claustrophobic (-2):

An incident in this youth – most likely the same one that cost him his arm (again he does not like to talk about it) has made Orlan incredibly apprehensive when it comes to tight and enclosed spaces – particularly underground - something that is highly unusual and embarrassing for a dwarf. Orlan will go to almost any means to avoid any situation that would require him to face this fear as it typically makes him both extremely jittery and irrational as well as overly prone to panic. In severe cases this can progress further into temporary paralysis and blindness (he curls up in a ball and closes his eyes).



Waiting for the game to actually start and wanting to develop the character has also been good for getting me to write so I've put together a small piece to set the scene for the character.

Orlan - A Seat at the Looking Glass

Orlan comes awake with a start, coughing and spluttering as he pulls his face up from a puddle of ale - his glass lying overturned next to a half eaten packet of crisps. He mutters to himself and then snatches a hanky from one of the many pockets in his ill-fitting coat to dab at his beard, it comes away suitably wet and he stuffs it back before reaching for his pipe and a loose match which he then strikes on a dry part of the table and places in bowl, sucking air through the stem until the tobacco takes on a deep cherry glow.

He sits back for a moment and takes a puff, loosing himself in the taste and the chatter from the bar: The Looking Glass is full tonight and the old ache in his arm tells him that most have been blown in by the storm brewing outside: Come to to stand in front of fire, to drink and relax; to forget the grey and miserable mess that is London in ill weather.

From his seat, hidden away in one of the pub's many nooks and crannies, he can see a few familiar faces - yet none so far seem to have noticed him, that or they are respecting the tradition that those who sit in such spots usually do so to be alone. Something that, at moment, suits Orlan just fine.

Change is coming. He can feel it in his bones, though he cannot tell if it will be for good or bad - just that it is coming soon and it will hit hard when it does.
He wonders if the other patrons can feel it too; fey and non-fey alike. Bubbling beneath the surface. Waiting to pop.


From under the table something small gives a light tug on his ankle, derailing his train of thought. More than happy to be distracted he taps his foot against the floor in response, signalling permission. Eight spindly legs find purchase and begin to climb and he smiles as the tiny golem – about the size of his hand – pulls itself up next to him on the seat against the wall. He runs his hand along its back and shivers in response, making a delighted chirping noise as tiny wheels inside turn on an antique bird caller placed where a heart would if a clock-work spider were to have a heart.


A single thought calms it down and Orlan moves to open the tiny leather pouch that carries upon its back. Nimble fingers find a pair of loose coins - he places those on the table - and an odd collection of usual bits and pieces scavenged off the tavern floor which he deposits into various other pockets according to some unknown criteria.

Carefully, he then reties the leather drawstring before laying his good hand open next to the golem and tapping his palm with a gloved finger from the other. Obediently the spider climbs up and then curls tightly into a ball as if to go to sleep and with a mental pinch Orlan lets it do so; pulling the the small thread of its mind from its tiny body and adding it back to his own. Carefully placing the now inanimate object in an inner pocket close to his chest.

Slowly he begins to fish around for a few more coins, placing each one on the table with the others as he goes - seems to be no point avoiding everyone all night- especially not when he wants another beer.


Pretty short. Horribly nerdy - but you know what? Fuck that noise - I'm rather looking forward to this, if and when it actually kicks off.



M.