Cast of Characters

Vanguard

Voldrin - a Hyperborean raider, exiled for heresy and the murder of his village; touched by the Elder Night, the warrior was plagued by the whispers of the Olds Ones but within the Ghost Fence has found peace of mind if not body Played by Bill Moseley

Zexx of Zingara - a Zingaran smuggler, exiled for kidnapping and murdering a prince of Zingara; a small time smuggler who had the misfortune of grabbing the wrong crate which he had thought was only some counterfeit goods turned out to be the mummified body of a local prince Played by Bo Burnham

Gall the Cimmerian - a Cimmerian warrior and thief, exiled for the theft of the Stonewright’s Knife and murder of four priests of Stygia; tall and dark skinned the warrior was caught in the middle of a job to steal a magical dagger that could shape stone like wood, resulting in the murder of her partner Played by Jameela Jamil

Sevlaz - a half Shemite, half Turarian former thief turned merchant, exiled for the murder of a prominent Zamoran merchant; the troubled life of Sevlaz stems all the way back to being born a slave who became a son, a thief, a slave, a sacrifice, a murderer, a merchant, and a murderer once again Played by  Omid Djalili

Rearguard

Agra - an from Kush; exiled for patricide  Heru Bin Jehu - an exile from Turan; exiled for murder Lycus of Argos - an exile from Argos; exiled for desertion Naeem - an exile from Kehsan; exiled for dishonor Oda - an exile from Yamatai; exiled by choice Oplisca - a pict sorceror Trex - a stygian priestess

(This is all about my love of pulp fantasy and the sword & sorcery genre.  Big heroes, big adventure, and grim endings.  Conan Exiles is where most of the characters are from as it’s a fun setting and easy to bring in anyone or anything considering the backstory of the area.  I do still play and have recently picked up the newest expansion so if you’d like to play in-game I am most happy to as well, but here is mostly just for writing stories and collaboration.  I’m happy to roleplay via tumblr or discord as well with these characters and hope to fight some mad gods or hordes of mad Vikings with you.) Discord: Mogwai Kraken#7988 

The clay trough landed with a soft clatter of juice, meat, and sticks wafting with the scents of a complex mixture of herbs and spices. Steam mixed with tendrils of burning smoke clouded Sevlaz's face as he pulled his pipe aside to lean forward to inspect his mystery.

"Bon appleteeth as the main man would say," Erik proudly grinned with his teeth, his arms crossing over his small chest with oversized hands hanging loosely.

"The main man?"

"It's just a saying, tell me what you think!" Erik snapped back with a mixture of impatience and exuberance.

The orc would sigh and tap out his pipe in the dirt beneath them, his foot absently reaching down to rub out the embers with is toe before reaching to the stick that held a kaleidoscope of charred meat and vegetables. A short sniff and look over of the food gave him pause as he debated on where to begin. The vulpera on the other hand got a different impression.

"Quit staring and take a bite you coward!" Erik slammed his hands on the bar and leaned forward, golden eyes eager for vindication.

Sev in turn backed up quickly with a look of shock at the fox's aggression, grumbling out an 'alright alright' in response before bringing the food to task. Carefully biting on the end piece of meat and giving it a yank and chew, bits of juice splattering across his bare ruined gums and yellowed teeth. Watching an orc without an upper lip chew was as intimidating as it was unpleasant for those of sophisticated table manners.

Erik's little shop care for none of these things as he continued to watch his sole patron chew.

There was a slow chew as the hot meat burst and slathered his tongue in a mixture of herb riddled grease. The slow lasted a bit longer as he continued before the final heavy swallow and hand reaching up to wipe his mouth with a what would be considered a satisfied sigh. "Pretty good, needs some heat though. You got any of that sauce?"

Golden eyes narrowed as he looked to the orc and grabbed a small jar under the table to slam in front of his customer. "Here. Just ruin it!"

"What do you mean ruin it?" Sevlaz grumbled as he opened the jar and spooned the chunky red onion goop on the pepper and tomato on his stick.

"The flavors! You have the palette of a yak!" Erik waved his hands as he began to tidying up for the next time he'd have to make something. "Nom nom me hungy me eat good! Bah!"

The half eaten skewer would point at the vulpera as Sev countered back with a mouthful of spicy sauced vegetable. "Hey! Tha's uncal for and racist! It's good, just need a kick or four."

A clang of pan and tong as Erik continued to sound off. "Work work! Something need doing?!"

"Damn it Erik! I swear you don't quit it with that, I'm gonna ring you up by your tail!"

"By my tail? And that's not racist? You know what I say to that you fu-" Erik spun about brandishing his wok ladle like a sword as he leveled it at the greasy face of Sev. But his words came to a halt as he looked past the thief, his eyes widening into golden saucers.

Sev growled as he eyed the ladle, ready to parry with his own clash of obscene stereotypes and language. But he could definitely take the hint that something was not right in Dalaran behind him. The skewer lowered slowly to his trough as he kept his eyes level at Erik. "Trouble?"

A soft nod of the cook's head, eyes still trained on the growing shadows behind him.

"Like danger trouble or like arrest trouble?"

"Yes."

A deep breath was drawn in and let loose as Sevlaz slowly turned about on his stool to find the ominous shadow looming.

"Damn it."

Noell Gallina flicked a chunk of mango from the orc's shoulder with a mixture of disgust and amusement at the other's misfortune this morning. The blood elf was dressed as always in her patrol uniform bearing the tabard of her station within Orgrimmar but hints of her former past within Silvermoon City with the shield and sword of her homeland. The Horde were not one to forget one's heritage but asked to dwell on the future more so than one's past.

Easier said than done.

But try she must and so she was given this task by Quel'thalas command. When originally given the task it had felt more like exile in to the heart of those who had ruined her own and many other lives. She could still smell the burning vines from those years ago and could still see the soulless blue eyes of the fallen as her world was taken in fire. Orcs, trolls, and the dead. The world was strange.

"So you say you tripped into this stall Master....?" Noell spoke calmly, folding her arms across her chest as she took inventory of the orc.

He wasn't like most orcs. Of course he was green with red eyes as was standard to the dominate race of the Horde, but his manners and dress were more akin to her own people than the usual barbarian garb of his own. His size didn't say much either as he seemed a bit thinner and smaller than the grunts she butted heads with on patrol, but who knows what age really did to an orc judging by the grey hair on his face. And a face it was.

Burn scars crossed a majority of it with matching scars of undoubtedly violent means created an obvious tapestry of violence. The most obvious and gruesome of the bunch though was the missing flap of skin where his upper lip should be leaving behind a crude and unsettling grin of sorts. No one should smile all the time like that. The elf had to stifle the pang of sympathy for him as she waited for his answers.

"Sevlaz," the orc answered eyeing his shoulder where she'd flicked the broken mango from. "And yeah, tripped and rolled hard right into it. Lucky didn't break my leg or arm suppose. Wrist might be another matter."

Noell did her best not to match the roll of his hand to her eyes as she stared at him listening, her eyes moving from him to the damage and back. Never a dull moment in the capital as she looked back over her shoulder to her partner.

Nianani, a Zandalari soldier fresh off the boat, listened much like she was to the fruit vendor. Noell had figured she'd have better luck with the troll than she would. Bad blood had a habit of souring any story. The large woman was patiently listening and asking questions of the hunched Darkspear, red hair flaring and hands flying about to emphasis his losses. Gallina sighed and looked back to Sevlaz who was still muttering about old wounds and sprained bones or something. Clearly not a healer.

Or truthful.

"Alright, alright," Noell broke her arms free to raise them to Sevlaz. "I think you'll be alright but this mess is not going to be alright. I trust you can afford to pay for the damages?"

"Pay?" The orc stopped immediately at the mention of money. Figures.

"Yes, you are responsible for this and the damages will need to be covered."

"How much?"

"That would be between you two," Noell motioned to the vendor and then returned her violet eyes to Sevlaz. "As I said I trust you will cover the damages and remain civil in this dispute."

Steel entered the red eyes of the orc for a few moments, his ugly mouth set in what should have been a grimace only emphasised the lack of lips to the creature. Noell frowned back enough for them both.

Finally, he seemed to have broke and waved it off. "Yeah I got it."

"Good," the elf nodding as she leveled off her authoritative demeanor, which for some reason she had not noticed her hand leaving the pommel of her sword. Bad habits.

Dangerous habits.

"I'll leave you to it then," Noell turned away from Sevlaz, her eyes meeting that of her partners who nodded and spoke a bit more with the Darkspear. Hands were clasped, shoulders touched, and the Loa invoked. Light she wished should connect better here, but that was the life of an elf in the Horde. The enemy of my enemy is not always my friend.

Nianani stalked back up to Noell, her heavy sword resting on her shoulder as she looked over the shorter elf toward Sevlaz and back.

"Al'rite?" Her thick Zandalari accent sometimes hard to understand but Noell was learning.

Noell turned to look back as Sevlaz approached the Darkspear vendor, judging by the body language it would be a long conversation. She shook her head.

"For now," she spoke coolly. "I have bad feeling about that one."

"Ya say tha bout a lot of folk."

Noell shook her head, finding she did that a lot for herself as much as others. Bad habits died hard.

Bad feelings lead to dying hard.

The vulpera leaned over the counter of his cart to his most frequent customer, what he figured a welcoming smile reminded Sev too much of mischief yet to come. Stereotypes weren't applauded but couldn't be ignored.

"Biggrin," Sev replied finally as he eased himself onto a low stool to sit more eye level with Erik who raised his oversized hands in mock forgiveness.

"Sorry?" The fox replied with that same half open mouth that was supposed to be a smile.

The orc would adjust himself a bit on the stool as he answer. "It was Biggrin, that's what they used to call me."

"Oh well, that makes some kind of ironic sense as far as I've known you, the idea of you being happy seems kind of farfetched," came the chipper if not blunt reply as the vulpera busied himself with dicing some vegetables.

"As if you could tell, Erik."

Erik'red gave a guffaw of a laugh as he swept up the onion and tossed it into a bowl before grabbing another to chop. "I got a nose for these kind of things."

"You got a nose for sure."

The knife in the cook's hand tapped his cutting board as he let his toothy grin shut just as much as his eyes narrowed at Sev. "This how we're gonna be today? Cause if it is, you can just mosey on back the way you came."

Sev raised his hands in surrender to placate the shorter creature. "Alright alright, I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"No, I am not," Sev replied quickly before resting his hands on the wood counter. "But I am the customer, and as they say I'm right."

"No, the customer is always an asshole, which we both know you are," Erik returned to his chopping with a heavy clops of his knife. Despite the antagonistic nature of the conversation, the vulpera's tone never jumped or followed the direction of the banter. People would joke about the optimistic views and attitude of the fox-folk, but in world of demons and giant swords the world could use a bit of optimism.

The thief would snort before reaching up to scratch at his whiskers and eye the steaming work behind Erik. "What's good today?"

"Well," Erik stopped chopping to look up in thought as he listed off his menu today. "Got eggs, an omelet, and a mystery dish."

"Mystery dish?"

"Coming right up!" Erik replied cheerfully as he turned to start into his makeshift kitchen and stove top.

"Wait! What I didn't order that!"

"Yes, you just did."

"It was question."

Erik would tilt his head slightly as he stared at the orc. "No that was a choice, so now you get it."

"But I don't even know what it is!"

The vulpera rolled his eyes and spoke over his shoulder as he went back to his cooking. "That's why it's a mystery. Some times, Sev. Some times."

The orc thief glowered before rubbing at his face as he did his best to guess what was coming and decided it best not to. His thick hand would reach into belt to pull out a faded blue wallet, unfolding it to reveal a cushioned clay pipe. Stem and bowl screwed gently together before digging into a side flap for some of the dried silverleaf he had been smoking since he came to that wretched swamp. He'd pinched some from a couple of footman that had been left into the muck after the Blackrocks had wasted them. An ugly mess with a supremely wonderful result.

"What you got to drink Erik?" Sev called over the flames and sizzle of what he assumed was meat, the stench of fish overpowering much else. The pipe put between his teeth before peeling a bit of wood from the counter to use as light from a hanging lantern, the silver smoke flowing up around his mangled green face as he watched the vulpera's back.

"Uh, I got water, the grog, and some troll sweat," Erik called over his shoulder again as he grabbed a couple of skewers and began to slide on the meat before tossing it back on the flames.

"Troll sweat?"

"It's not actual troll sweat," Erik replied as he wipes his oversized hands on his apron. "Least I'm pretty sure it's not."

The red eyes narrowed in a concern and confusion at the lack of assurance he felt from the fox's reply. "Give me the grog."

"You got it," came the quick reply as he reached under the counter for his pony keg. A click and heavy rush of liquid from below before the clay cup nestled gently on the top. "There ya go, the 'bobs' will be ready in a jiffy."

Sevlaz tried not to show his contempt of the phrase 'jiffy' before hanging his pipe a moment for a full pull of the warm amber drink, feeling the clay scrape his upper teeth and clicking his tongue a moment. "Not bad this time."

"I try only my best," Erik wiped his hands again in to his apron before eyeballing the frying supposed meat behind him, tail switching back and forth as he watched the fires lick it. "How ya want it?"

"How do you serve it?"

"Hot."

Sev sighed and took another long drink.

How a 10 foot, half ton tauren could come up behind him without making a noise was something a marvel for Sevlaz as he looked up into the brindle faced male. Sheared horns, bronze nose ring, and one hard pale blue eye only addedto the intimidation the warrior of his arsenal as he stared back at the orc.

"Grin."

There was a heavy cough as Sevlaz cleared his throat and started to stand up. "Raincal-"

The thick three fingered hand caught him in the chest and with the ease of pushing over a child sat Sevlaz back on his stool. "Sit."

"Right, sure thing," Sevlaz answered as he noted how easily he was forced back down. "What can I-"

"Shutup."

"Alright."

The tauren leaden down to look him in the eye, his bearded jaw set firm as he spoke. "You know why I'm here."

"Uh, I would think an omelet or perhaps one of these kabobs. Erik could you fox- er fix up a stick or seven for..?" The thief was turning back toward the cook. Unceremoniously the above flap clattered down to seal off the cooking area of the vulpera's, the wood vibrating the painted on sad face with a word bubble 'Closed!' Sevlaz growled and faced the mercenary again. "Sorry looks like they're closed now."

"Pity," the deep baritone was short and hard as he never broke his gaze.

"Very much so, Cah. And I would guess you're here per An'wei."

The tauren mercenary, Cahall would nod curtly. "You'd be right."

"About the job?"

"Two for two."

"Well, I mean it's just taking me a bit to get an in and these things take time. Silvermoon isn't what it used to be," Sevlaz continued to press the conversation, his hands talking as much as he was. "My old contacts are either reformed, abroad, or well..."

"Dead."

"Exactly," the thief added as turned his permanent grin to to Cahall again. The tauren was not smiling. He never did.

There was a moment Sevlaz believed that was how the conversation was going to end, but that huge hand would reach forward and gently slip it's wrist thick fingers through the leather straps of Sev's vest. If he'd been shoved back into his seat like a newborn, he was lifted just the same like a kitten to dangle in the air at the tauren's eye level. There might have been an urge to kick out or struggle but knowing the warrior's reputation, it would have just ended a lot worse for him.

"Per the contract," Cahall growled softly as he drew the orc closer to his face. "You got one week to have it in the broker's hands. If not, I will be bringing back you back to them."

"One. Piece. At. A. Time." Each word was emphasized like a gong struck, no eye contact broken and inches only between the pair.

The thief cleared his throat again, the guttural gunk in his throat cleared and swallowed once again. "I'll do what I can."

"I'm sure." And the orc was lowered again to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? I mean it's fine, you're doing your job. It's what you do," Sev answered breathlessly as he found him counting his blessing to feel the dirt under his feet again. The warrior's grip was still tight about the straps on his chest as he heard the creak of the fist growing firmer.

There was a shake of Cahall's shaggy head. A grunt of effort matching the lift while the muscles flexed to propel the orc from the ground.

"Wait! Wait! WA-" Sevlaz started to yell as he felt the earth disappear beneath him again. Air was rushing in his ears as the eerie feeling of weightlessness took over to speed him across the street barely having time to lift his arms to shield him from the impending landing. Thankfully the fruit stand across from Erik's was gracious enough to break his fall.

"My mangos!' The shrill scream of the vendor echoed throughout the street as the wreckage of his livelihood littered the ground and the bruised orc thief. Sevlaz groaned from the pile of broken fruit as he saw the world upside down, the lumbering form of the warrior striding off into the capital.

His red gaze should be filled with rage at being manhandled but instead red fur and golden eyes.

"Sev!" Erik yelled as he began to pull the orc back up around from his upside down heap into a sitting heap. "You alright?"

Sevlaz nodded as he wiped some mushed mango from his face.

"Good good good," the vulpera continued before opening his palm. "So it's gonna be like two gold for those kabobs."

A handful of crushed fruit was hardly the tip he expected.

Durotar.

It'd been dream when he'd first heard about it and now it was a practically a metropolis and monument to the old ways of his people. Sev hated it so much.

He should be grateful for a safe haven for his kind, a place to grow and seek out the old ways in an act of redemption. A pretty fairy tale for those who'd never grown up in the pig farms or scrapping iron from the mountains or being fed to a gronn for fun. No one talked about the peons, the dirty secret of the 'Horde'. Old or new, shit still rolled down hill and there they'd be shoveling it.

Never be slaves again? Fuck that.

Sevlaz walked the desert streets of the city, the red dirt stamped hard from the countless feet that crossed the city over and over. His red eyes scanning the crowd here and there, noting the red armored grunts thumping their chests. He offered a thump of his own as he walked by, doing his best to strike a noble face.

"For the Horde, brother," the orc grunt growled as he stood a bit straighter. Sev just gave another thump, doing his best not to look the soldier in the eye. It made his insides twist to bad memories that were souring his good day faster than he wanted. Deceit was appropriate for the enemy, it was even more necessary in the face of your 'family'.

A cart would roll by with some deaders driving it, the smell of dead herbs and roses trailing them as they gave the glowering dim stare to those that crossed. The survivor was happy to step aside to let them pass. The grey skinned creature would nod indifferently to Sev before they urged the kodo on down the row toward the Valley. Best to give it extra breadth, the last thing he needed was to step in a surprise from the beast. Least he hoped it was from the pack animal.

Propping himself up against the stone wall a moment, his leg would lift to give his knee a short respite as he scanned the crowd wandering the streets tonight. Orcs. Tauren. Trolls. Dead. It made sense for those four groups to be on the streets of the city as he recalled from back in the day. Hell even the goblins as much as people might frown at their motives still tolerated their place among the Horde. Sev was fairly grateful to them for the ability just to walk the streets, maybe he should take trip down to Rachet or even Gadgetzen. Long one, but what else did he have going for him? Coren probably be glad to see him doing something other than wallowing about the city.

Best to stick it out here. No more heroes.

Grunting a chortle at his own joke, Sev would ease back onto his leg and start walking again. It didn't bother him as much with the brace, but it still was taking quite a bit of getting used to. Finnick had said it would take practice and patience. He wished he was more abundant in either of those things. The eternal struggle of the thief.

An angry gurgle broke his reverie.

"Yeah yeah," as he reached down to rub at his gut before stalking up the hill. The cacophony of the market of the Valley of Strength was like a low rumbling storm of voices. Voices that he could sometimes hardly believe were here in the desert kingdom. Dwarves and elves fighting alongside the orcs was a very strange turn of events.

His ugly ruined face would turn to follow a pair of lightly armored elven women walk by as they spoke with their colorful and musical voices. Red curls, bright green and blue eyes with the gait of a panther and the soft curves to match. He offered a slight tip of his head as they walked by, neither giving him much notice. He watched them disappear among the crowd and shook his head with the stretched smile on his face.

Strange but pleasant sights.

"Hey there half grin!" A piping voice broke him of his stare as he turned toward the mass of merchants, stalls, and vendors that congregated within the mighty valley. He'd recognize it, but wasn't sure how happy he'd be to see the owner again.

With a snort Sev would cross the final stretch into the Valley of Strength and sidle up to the familiar food cart of his new acquaintance.

Friend was too strong a word for Erik.

Personal Information––– – Profession: Ex-pirate; 'Gatherer' Hobbies: drinking, smoking, crude jokes and gestures, cartography, exploring, sailing, the fairer sex Languages: Orcish, Common, Crude Thalassian Residence: Orgrimmar but bounces about as necessary though he enjoys being in Silvermoon most Birthplace: Gorgrond Religion: None Patron Deity: None Fears: The past, aging, being lost

Relationships ––– - Spouse: Elras (ex-mate, or closest too); multitude of other women Children: Fenrag (unmet); perhaps others but he's not 100% Parents: Unknown peons Siblings: Unknown peons Other Relatives: None by blood Pets: None

Sex & Romance ––– - Sexual Orientation: Hetero Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch Preferred Sexual Role: submissive | dominant | switch Libido: High Turn ons: Cultured, hips, dancing, eyes, colors Turn offs: Lack of pulse Love Language: Flattery Relationship Tendencies: Sudden, quick, and with a short goodbye

Traits ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted Disorganized / In Between / Organized Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded Calm / In Between / Anxious Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable Cautious / In Between / Reckless Patient / In Between / Impatient Outspoken / In Between / Reserved Leader / In Between / Follower Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic Traditional / In Between / Modern Hard-working / In Between / Lazy Cultured / In Between / Uncultured Loyal / In Between / Disloyal Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– – Smoking Habit: Obscenely Drugs: Occasionally Alcohol: Constantly

RP Hooks ––– –

You got the coin, I got the time. A thief through and through, Sev likes gold as much as he likes women and silverleaf. He's not one to shy away from a job or even think that he can't get the job done. There's a certain thought of not being quite as old and broken as he is and that he's still the black haired pirate who could jump ships as easily as he would walk a line. Lots of brains for the work, just lacking the strength to complete it all the time.

Fuck the Horde. Sevlaz was born a slave. There's no other way to sugar coat. In the long before time he was a peon for the Blackrock clan and felt the crack of all manner of abuse. A daring plan and spark of rage combined with a sneaking nature got him where he wanted to be which was beyond the portal and far from Draenor. He doesn't talk much about it as it usually brings up feeling of disgust, but not matter this New Horde or the Old Horde it has left plenty of scars on him. One Warchief is the same as the last to him and they can all go to hell as far as he's concerned.

Chewed Up and Spitting Out The thief has had as many failures as he's had successes, bearing the scars of many of those failures. Missing fingers, a bum leg, and a gruesome visage should make it clear that maybe he isn't quite as good as his profession as he makes it. But the orc is always eager to point out, he's still here and others are buried long ago. There's always a story to tell from an old scar and he could have plenty of them from his younger days or even recent days. Who's asking?

Bronzed Path Sevlaz is not from this world. Or maybe this time. Or maybe this universe. The ways of the Bronze Flight are strange and not to be seen in a linear sense which confuses him just as much as it does anyone. But a deal was made and he accepted to be pulled into this one to do something or other. What is they plan for him? Is there plan for him? Or maybe they're just living a voyeuristic life to see what the orc does next. Only time will tell.

HOW TO CONTACT: OoC - 1st Tumblr with Discord to follow after discussion Ingame - Sevlaz (WrA H-O 17 rogue)

IC - A hard hacking cough preceded the disgusting phlegm that struck the dirt as the orc let the dark gunk of his lungs splatter in the dirt. A low grunt was all he gave as he rubbed it away with the toe of his boot, neither having the time or want to care about what it meant. Despite his second lease on life, he had not intention of changing his habits. The world could get used to him if it really wanted him in it.

Least that's what he told himself.

Sevlaz aka Sev aka Biggrin aka the dead orc brought back, was not what would be considered 'hero' material. The green skin was a kaleidoscope of bad decisions and bad luck from the gruesome scars marring his long aged face. What might have been a history of violence from just his face, the body made up for it as well from the missing fingers, the creaking limp, and the shabby clothes he probably found off someone else. It wasn't far fetched.

The thief or 'gatherer' as he tried to advertise himself to lend a sense of trustworthiness, was not worried about wars or troubles throughout whatever world was threatening to burn Azeroth this week. His main concerns were where he was sleeping, what he was drinking, and if when he did sleep would he be alone. For a creature of past misfortune, being alone was not something he found himself doing. Coin makes the world go round and he was very keen to keep it doing it's job.

But as much Sevlaz would believe he was a creature of bad habits, loose women, and full purses there was a hint of something weighing on him. The orc would laugh at the idea of feeling guilty for his past or present doings, but masks are something we all wear. His green just was doing a hell of job of covering the bronze, dull as it might be it was there. And it was patient.