I haven't really done a roleplay in a while, but i'll try.
Name: Known as Whicker, real name unknown
Gender: Male
Species: Mudokon
Alliance: Tree hugger
Rank: None
Age: 28-35, age unknown
Physical Description: Tall and lean, dark green skin w/yellow and white tattoo stripes down his arms and legs, pale eyes, thick leather mask over his entire face w/paramite teeth bordering the sides, black sholder sash w/cape, long, trailing black loincloth w/paramite teeth sewn at the ends, a single black feather is braided into his ponytail, which he dyed black and blue
Equipment: Heavy wooden weapon decorated with bells and red ribbons, its a cross between a battle-axe and a hammer
Biography: Was a scrubb working in Rupture Farms until he was shipped off with 50 other muds to work in a seperate factory. As the heavy caravan transporting them passed through a lush valley they were ambushed by a large, unidentifiable creature with massive smashing fists. It killed the sligs' driving the caravan, crunched the hell out of it, and vanished. Whicker was the only one to survive and wandered for days through the forests and hills, hopelessly lost. He stumbled upon an abandoned mud temple hidden in an ancient cave where he found his hammer-axe and clothing, and made a home out of the building's remains. He learned every secret passage and entrance to the complicated temple's miles of underground tunnels, hunted his own food, vowed to hunt down the monster that killed the 50 innocent muds that traveled with him in the caravan, and has been a little emo inside ever since. C:
(The abandoned temple is a few miles from the fortress, and is extremely well hidden)
D&D: Neutral-good
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A particularly short scrab with a limp in its left hind leg rooted around in the underbrush, eager for something to satisfy its grumbling belly. It grunted as it pushed through leaves and dirt with its beak-like snout, its small, watery eyes wary and alert. It was unable to hunt due it its injury, and it would make an easy target for Whicker.
The dark mudokon gripped the handle of his hammer-axe, his pale yellow eyes bright with concentration.
Poor beast hasn't even noticed me yet, he thought, blinking sadly.
It must be so hungry it can't think straight.
The scrab's head shot up, causing foam to fleck the nearby trees. Its head rotated hungrily and it made small whining noises, begging in his own language for something to eat. Whicker hopped silently forward, careful not to rustle the leaves, and raised his weapon over his head.
BLAM! Gunshot from a slig's rifle rang through the forest, followed closely by voices.
"...this way... I heard something this way!"
Whicker looked up in suprise and ducked into the leaves, holding his weapon close to his chest. The scrab sensed his movement and bounded forward, its head swinging around wildly as it struggled to pinpoint the sound. Whicker could hear sligs clearly now, rummaging around in the forest.
What the hell could they want? He wondered, backing up into the foliage. The scrab reared up on its back legs and bolted forward towards the sound of exploring sligs, its jaws dripping and his chest bellowing in a savage roar. Startled voices rang in the air, and gunshot shook the forest to its roots.
With no time to think Whicker ran down the narrow path ahead, ducking to avoid being seen. He could only think of one place he would be safe; the Mudokon Fortress. For now, anyway. He leapt over a mound of gnarled roots and ran onwards, swinging his weapon to clear away low-hanging branches.
Finally he saw the tall trees circling the fortress, and he smiled to himself. He jumped inbetween two of them and shimmied himself deeper into the roots and leaves, panting heavily. The sound of sligs and scrab alike died into the distance. Whicker didn't see it, but deeper in the forest the scrab licked its jaws and dug into the flesh of a freshly-caught baton slig, the corners of its face curled into what was almost a smile.
Whicker sighed and slowed his breathing, still wary of attacks.