forum stronger than one, stronger than ten, stronger than a hundred men! (small to medium group) (magic! secrets! coups and revolution and revenge abound!!) (ALSO: WE’RE STILL OPEN!!)

Started October 12, 2023 by @OrionShenanigan group

tune

Been listening to Frozen Heart on repeat and sometimes Disney music just hits different. Anyways, plot!

Posted across ever town square and in the windows of every shop was an edict, straight from the Queen Herself. To the people, it read:

To all men and beasts (author’s note: Men referring to humans and more specifically male humans and beast referring to magical beings such as centaurs, orcs, and elves etc) fit for work, you are called to the mountains of Sval-Ket to serve Her Majesty. All who serve will be compensated handsomely, and those who attempt to evade service will be swiftly and succinctly punished.

What was meant by this message, nobody quite knew. All that was let on by anyone of any sort of political power was that it was work, it would be difficult, and it would keep the people’s families safe from harm. However, it was soon found out that many would die before news was ever brought back. The Queen began to subject her people to a cruel reign, and rumor began to spread that She was seeking immortality, and somewhere in the mountains, the secrets to eternal life were hiding. Already was the Queen a powerful sorceress, the thought of an immortal tyrant spread dissent amongst the people. But that is not where our story lies.

Our characters are the people sent into the mountains, from ages 16 all the way up to 50, to work themselves to death in Her Majesty’s camps. They find themselves mining for something, deep in the mountains where no sun reaches even in the outdoors and where clouds and storms are always swirling. What they will find could heal a kingdom, or destroy everything they’ve ever loved… will you be a part of this epic tale?

Anyways, that’s the basics! Your character(s) (up to three) can be any species, human or magical, but they CANNOT have any powers that could make it easy to Mary Sue their way through the story. Godmodding is outlawed here, basically. Also, PLEASE note this rp will contain some triggering content such as starvation, torture, death and violence as well as substance abuse among other things. As for sexual content, like,,, I’d rather not for this one? References to doin’ the deed, discussions of s/a, and overall flirting and romance are not banned outright, buuuuut they’re kinda iffy here as this isn’t the focus here. Romance, as long as you keep it tame, is fine but please do keep it tame.

As for violence, fighting, gore and death, please ask if you want to seriously injure, incapacitate, or kill off someone’s character! I’ll be setting up a separate thread for whoever joins for discussions exactly like that as well as just general memeposting for anyone who’s interested, however you do need to ask ahead of time as it is kinda a dick move to fuck up someone’s intended storyline for the purposes of drama. WITH THAT IN MIND!! No dodging every attack or godmodding, again please let bad things happen to your characters! This will be an environment of stress and peril, please let your characters get beat up a lil!!

And lastly, don’t be a dick irl but also have fun! And try to make this fun for others!!

Timeline of events is that is has been about ten years since that edict has been sent out, and whilst revolutionary forces occasionally rise up, they are swiftly quelled and defeated by the Queen’s ever growing military and allies.

Template:

Name:
Age: (16-50)
Gender/Pronouns:
Orientation:
Species:
Appearance:
Wardrobe:
Personality:
Skills:
Power(s)?: (go easy on this one, powers cannot manipulate environment or others too much (as in, no straight telekinesis or mind control) (but things like superior strength, healing, etc are ok) but still feel free to be creative!)
Backstory:
Theme song(s)?:
Other?:

Have fun! I’ll post a separate chat for discussing plot and other shenanigans when a few people join!!

Name: Ttarmek “Strongest Will“ Keva
Age: 46
Gender/Pronouns: Cis man, he/him
Orientation: Bisexual with a slight preference for women.
Species: Orc (becos I am OBSESSED with these guys lately)
Appearance: Ttarmek used to be huge, formidable, and powerful, now he is still all that but is thinner than before, more starved, and more weak than he would be normally. He has twin inky dark haired braids that run from his sideburns to his shoulders, other than that he keeps his head shaved (“It is what the Goddess commands, and it is practical for war,”) and usually has a bit of stubble but also maintains a largely clean face. Ttarmek has a strong face, with many scars, more than before he was made to work but he was still scarred even then. He is densely muscled, but without much body fat, a dangerous thing in this bitter cold. His skin is pale greenish blue and his eyes are a deep brown, with huge tusks and sharp teeth as well as ears kinda floppy like a goat’s. Ttarmek is 7’11”
Wardrobe: Simple clothes, good for work and that would last a while before getting torn up. Large coats with furs from animals he hunts in the little spare time he gets out here in the mountains.
Personality: Loyal, with a stubborn streak when it comes to protecting those he loves. A big (pun intended) advocate for his community, Ttarmek will always ensure that his people are taken care of, no matter who those people may be and no matter the conditions or consequences. He is kind, gentle, and generous, always sharing with those in need and even those who simply wish to take advantage of him. He believes in the proverbs of the Orc Goddess Grushi, to always trust that your battles will be won if only you give out your strength to win them. And lately, he has been hearing her call…
Skills: A very skilled hunter and outdoorsman, Ttarmek is able time and again to create something from nothing, whether that be clothes, or medicine from herbs, or what have you. Also very skilled in martial arts, and wields a giant wooden club made for bashing in the heads of those that bully the weak and poorly.
Power(s)?: Obviously superior strength, power, and endurance, but Ttarmek is also able to create small fires with just his mind (a spell his husband taught him) and thus he’s survived a lot longer than most would due to being able to keep himself warm in a pinch.
Backstory: Ttarmek has worked at the mines for the past five years, before that however he was in a relationship with a half-orc woman and an elven man (below) who he loved very deeply and did everything he could to protect. He was the leader of his predominantly orcish clan in a magical ghetto in Her Majesty’s kingdom, with six beautiful children that he gave the world to and sacrificed for every day to keep them happy. Overall, he and his partners and children lived a simple but happy life, that is until Her Majesty put out the edict to send him and his husband to the mines and leave their wife and children behind. Little known to him, his wife was later murdered by Her Majesty’s soldiers for attempting to organize a revolution, and her eldest daughter disguised herself as a boy to go find her father. Ttarmek doesn’t know about this and since his child would barely recognize him now with all the toil and strife his body has gone through, it’s been hard for them to actually meet properly.
Theme song(s)?: Prolly sea shanties and work songs, idk man.
Other?: Very good at befriending wild animals and making them do things for him, it isn’t even magical he just has really good vibes.

Name: Kindreth Keva
Age: 40
Gender/Pronouns: Cis man, he/him
Orientation: Pansexual
Species: Elf
Appearance: Kindreth was always a bit sickly, having always been more of the academic type that hates the sun, but now he is hollowed out and bone thin, never knowing where or when his next meal will come from. He is pale, with a faint face and sunken in cheeks and shadowed green eyes, his red curls falling flat, ashy, and a little greasy from not being able to bathe often. Pointy ears and slightly sharper teeth than normal. Kindreth still maintains his composure, however, always managing to keep going if only to not break his husband’s heart. His skin was once unmarked and unscarred, but now he is covered in scars from beatings or work or even wild animal attacks and fighting amongst the other men in the camp. He is 5’10”
Wardrobe: Wears simple work clothes, often slightly torn and muddied, with coats too big for him that Ttarmek makes to keep him warm.
Personality: Kindreth is more jaded now than he once was, and smiles rarely. He is still kind, but mainly reserves that kindness to those in his innermost circle for fear of being taken advantage of that kindness and causing his loved ones to suffer.
Skills: More of an academic, but has learned to do what it takes to survive in these cold mountains.
Power(s)?: Can perform three simple spells, one to create small to medium fires, the other to speak any language including that of animals, and lastly to transform metal into a newer state, which turns out well for bartering at the forges.
Backstory: Has been working in the mines for five years, but before that was married to Ttarmek and his wife, Lucina. He formerly was a scholar before meeting his partners, but fell on hard times and eventually lived on the streets writing poetry when he could manage to afford it and whoring himself out when he couldn’t. Eventually, Ttarmek and Lucina came into the picture and Kindreth has been happy ever since… at least, until the edict.
Theme song(s)?: I feel like this dude would appreciate a good hurdy gurdy cover of some metal song.
Other?: Despite being able to speak with them, Kindreth is NOT good with animals, like, at all.

Name: Dru Keva, goes by the alias “Kyrin Des”.
Age: 16
Gender/Pronouns: Afab nonbinary femme, goes by she/they normally but is disguised as a boy at the moment and thus would refer to themself with he/him pronouns and others would too.
Orientation: Lesbian
Species: Roughly one half elf, one quarter human, and one quarter orc if I’m doing the math right.
Appearance: Dru is taller than most elves, but shorter than most orcs, stands at around 6’7” with pointy ears, pale bluish skintone and pointy, slightly longer more rounded ears as well as small tusks and sharp teeth. Their eyes are a deeper brown, but with gold and green sparkles within, and she is muscular more than most elves would be but again less than your average orc.
Wardrobe: Owns one leather coat that they wear constantly now, six pairs of gloves that don’t protect as much as they should, and wears commoner clothes beneath that don’t keep warm very well.
Personality: Outgoing and determined, Dru is a big fighter and will keep going no matter the circumstances. Still, living in the mountains isn’t easy… and neither is having a dead mother and two absent fathers.
Skills: Is skilled in fighting mostly, but can garden some and hunt a little as well.
Power(s)?: N/A
Backstory: Has been living on the streets taking care of her siblings ever since their fathers left. Left for the mines about a year ago, and has been working there for roughly four months.
Theme song(s)?: Probably some MCR type shit idk.
Other?: N/A

Name: Romulus Vale
Age: 29
Gender/Pronouns: Male
Orientation: Willing to smile your direction as long as you've got a pulse.
Species: Human-Fey Lineage

Appearance: 6'6", 350lbs of bulky, robust muscle. Platinum blonde hair kept short, other than the fauxhawk towards the front. Pale complexion, covered in scars of varying size and age. Piercing icy blue eyes that always seem to be flashing mischief. A mountain of a man with a big smile.

Wardrobe: Typically wears one of two outfits, whichever happens to be cleaner. Black roughcloth tunic over black roughcloth pants over heavy workboots, or a red leather cuirass he won off a guard in a wrestling match, over a tartan toughcloth kilt, over the same heavy workboots. He can also usually be found wearing the black mining gauntlets his brother made him.

Personality: Friendly, gregarious, and pretty protective. Romulus is the type to fall in love with people quickly, whether that's platonic love with his brothers in the mine, romantic love with those after his love, or aesthetic love with people who are beautiful, inside or outside. There is hurt in his background, but outside of certain circles and situations, you'd never know it. Even in the mines, his loud laugh and quick smile make life a little more bearable.

Skills: He's been in the mines a long time, and is good at his job now. He was also formerly military, and is skilled with weapons of all kinds, or even just his fists. This has a lot less relevance in the mines, or against magic users. He also knows how to patch up wounds and keep people alive.

Power(s): Romulus has 2 powers; Adaptable Strength and Absorbative Healing.
Adaptable Strength means he can increase his strength in any situation he's in to be exactly as much strength as he needs. A ten ton rock falls on a friend in the mines? Romulus can lift it singlehandedly.
The problem with this power is that only his strength increases. His body's ability to take the strain doesn't, necessarily. The bigger the need, the closer to snapping his own bones and crushing himself he gets. Sometimes, he's strong enough to do something, but only by seriously injuring himself in the process.
Absorbative Healing means he can heal any wound, even up to fatal, mortal wounds, as long as he can absorb the pain and damage of the wound into his own body. It requires physical contact with the target, and is only limited by how much Romulus's body can handle. If a wound kills Romulus when he absorbs it, it transfers back to the person he was trying to heal, and they could both end up dead.
This ability also doesn't allow him to heal himself. He heals a bit faster than normal, but certainly not enough to overcome absorbing other people's serious wounds on a regular basis.

Backstory: The Vales lived in a poor area of the country, and Romulus grew up without a lot. He and his younger brother, both part-Fey on their mother's side, used their powers and skills to help keep the family eating and housed. Romulus got big quickly, and joined the military at 13, faking being much older because of his size and strength. He had served for 6 years, winding up fighting in far-off places for the honor of the Queen. He was able to visit home a few times, and the last time, he found his home destroyed, his family dead at tha hands of roving marauders.
When the call for workers went out, he signed up immediately. What did he have to lose? He's been in the mines the full ten years.

Theme song: Warriors- Imagine Dragons

Other: His time in the military has allowed him to forge good relationships with the guards and officers, which is part of how he's managed to survive this long.
…………………….

Name: Franklyn Vale
Age: 24
Gender/Pronouns: Male
Orientation: Ace
Species: Human-Fey Lineage

Appearance: 5'8", 120lbs. Pale complexion marred by a few scars. Face that was as pretty as a young girl's face for a long time. Big, soft brown eyes, full lips, gentle expressions. A smile like sunshine breaking through clouds, if you can get him to smile. Sandy-blonde hair, shoulder length, usually kept in a pony-tail. Franklyn has always been thin, but it's worse now. Ears are slightly pointed, pointing more to his Fey heritage.

Wardrobe: Thick grey knit garments with layered fur pelts over top. The cold is brutal to him, especially when he's working on his own projects. The pelts are in shades of grey and brown, like many of the other worker's, but a few articles of clothing set him apart. His work boots look extremely heavy and cumbersome, with lots of extra metal bits. Really, they're mechanical, and help him do a lot of things. His belt is a broad leather utility belt, with tools and gadgets of all kinds dangling from it. He wears a set of goggles with all kinds of lenses and crystals that give him various options for his vision, such as magnifying, checking for heat signatures, infrared, etc. His gloves are a soft leather, and fingerless, allowing him to work on the fine details of his gadgets. He can often be found with his hands in his pockets, to keep them warm.

Personality: Franklyn is pretty quiet, and often anxious. A natural introvert, his past troubles have made him even more distrustful of others, especially strangers and large men. However, he enjoys helping other people, if he can, and knows that he won't survive if he doesn't make allies in the camps. So he's doing his best.

Skills: Franklyn is very good with mechanical stuff. He always knows what tool to use, and often has it on him, in order to repair whatever needs repairing. He's also an excellent teacher, though he doesn't believe this about himself.

Power(s): Franklyn is a Frenetic Genius who can Imbue Animation.
Frenetic Genius is a state where Franklyn is hyper-intelligent, and an incredibly fast thinker. He's able to assimilate, synthesize, and extrapolate information extremely quickly, and come up with solutions and innovations. The problem is that doing this takes so much energy, he has to be careful about how often he does it, or he can be left extremely weak. He's already a frail person, so this one isn't easy.
Imbuing Energy means Franklyn can transfer some of his life-force into inanimate objects to make them function. For instance, he's designed little mechanical drones that transport rock and mineral samples for other miners. They're very small, only meant to carry small samples, and while they were well designed, they don't have a power core of any kind. Franklyn just gave them a little of his life-force, and now they'll go on functioning until they're destroyed, or he takes it back. This can work on any inanimate object, but is of course limited by how much life-force Franklyn can spare at any given time. It regenerates slowly, but if he gives too much at once, it can incapacitate or kill him.

Backstory: Franklyn is Romulus's brother. They grew up together, and while Romulus took after his father more, Franklyn was his mother's son, through and through. This meant nothing to the brothers, other than they were different. They remained close, all the way up till Romulus went off to war. Franklyn was still very young, but his mind was so developed, he felt the loss as if he and his brother were much closer in age.
When the little town he lived in was destroyed by marauders, and his parents killed, Franklyn was trafficked for 6 years. His pretty face and skills kept him alive, a much sought-after body in the dark underbelly of the kingdom. He hoped, the entire time, that Romulus would find him, but his brother believed him dead.
It wasn't until the crime ring was broken up in order to send some of the criminals into the mountains that he was rescued from this, and as payment for his rescue by the Crown, he too was sent into the mountains. It lead to his reunion with his brother, but this whole experience has left Franklyn with many, many issues.

Theme song(s): Cracked- Pentatonix

Other: Has managed to make friends with some of the roughest characters in the camps, by doing things like helping them learn to read, or learn to sift the gems from the ore and pocket a few, or learn which of the scarce mountain herbs will work as medicines.
……………………………………………

Name: Rixtus Tourmaline
Age: 32 (just past adolescence for gnomes)
Gender/Pronouns: Male
Orientation: Straight, Strictly gnome-attracted
Species: Cave Gnome

Appearance: 2'10", 75lbs, thin and wiry. pale skin, thick red hair usually tied back under his cap, short red beard he tries to keep trimmed and nice. Gnarled hands, bulbous nose, bright blue eyes.

Wardrobe: Long blue wool tunic, belted around his waist, black roughcloth pants and a small pair of black boots. A long red stocking cap on his head and a set of brown gloves complete the look.

Personality: Rixtus is reserved but friendly when he must interact with people. He tries not to be manipulative, but being small makes it hard to be safe if you're not super careful about your surroundings. Good at trading favors for goods and getting what he wants and needs.

Skills: Negotiating and persuasion. He also instinctively, as a gnome, can identify uncut gemstones and other goodies in the rock around them. Very good at cutting and polishing stones

Power(s)?: As a cave gnome, Rixtus can Stone Meld and has Earth Sight.
Stone Meld is an ability that allows Rixtus to mold or move stone like it's clay. This ability is limited in that he can only use it on an amount of stone that weighs less than he does, which isn't much. Still, it allows him to dig small tunnels and get gems out of rock without hurting them.
Earth Sight allows Rixtus to see through solid rock and packed earth and see things that don't 'belong', like ore and gems and other goodies. He can only see while concentrating, though, and can't see regularly at the same time. Using Earth Sight for too long gives him a serious headache, and the distance he can see is related to how hard he focuses.

Backstory: Rixtus was from a small clan of cave gnomes that already lived up here in the mountains. When the Queen's forces came through, his clan was ousted from their cave system, which became a mine in turn. When the clan tried to rise up and fight back, they were unceremoniously squashed, and Rixtus is one of just a few survivors. They've been spread out, so Rixtus is the only gnome in this camp. He has been here the whole time, as one of the first to be pressed into service, and has seen lots of people come and go.

Theme song(s)?: In My Blood- Shawn Mendes

Other: Rarely leaves the tunnels and mines; stays underground at all times if possible.

(can I join?)

(Sure!)

Name: Carter Lee James "Lee"
Age: stuck at 17 actually like 35
Gender/Pronouns: male he/him
Orientation: demisexual but only towards guys
Species: vampire
Appearance: 4'11, 90 lbs messy dirty blonde hair, average small build, not that strong, green eyes that turn red when he does vampire stuff.
Wordrobe: military pants and boots, a long jacket, and a colorful shirt
Personality: Carter has trust issues and panics easily, especially when things change. He is small and a pacifist. If someone where to attack him he would just light a cigarette and let them beat the crap out of him.
Skills: He is good at making drinks.
Power(s)?: basic vampire stuff, faster and slightly stronger than mortals, lives a lot longer than mortals, slow aging, probably some other things but Carter doesnt really care to know.
Backstory: When Carter was born his mother died, a few years later his father went missing leaving him with an abusive uncle. When he was 7 he ran away and lived on the streets until he was 11 and a couple took him in. He was then raised by Jim and Laura, and James and Smith, Jim and James being brothers Laura being Jims wife, and Smith being Laura's vampire uncle. When he wss 17 he got attacked by a couple of vampires outside of his home and ended up being turned. He hated life ever since. Once the call for workers came he avoided it the best he could. But wrong place wrong time he ended up signing up without realizing it. (He doesnt pay attention)
Theme song(s)?: Jekyll and Hyde Five Finger Death Punch
Other?: he has never had his first kiss or anything. He an innocent slightly autistic bean.

Sval-Ket referred to two sides of the same coin. On the side of Sval was harsh winters and rough terrain, where mountains upon mountains left nothing but rock and ruin for those who lived there. Every single one of Sval’s indigenous inhabitants had either been slaughtered or shipped off to the Queen’s palace for study, as they seemed to have a strange magic of a sort that nobody could really define. But on the side of Ket was deep trenches in the earth, canyons between mountains with rivers below that held a few of the Sun Orc tribes that had yet to be subjugated by the Queen’s rule. The clash between winter and desert was a strange one, but then again, magic ran strong here and made things all the more unpredictable.

This was where, at least in Orcish legend, where the Nameless Goddess of Wisdom, the Flame, and War had been born. An Athenian figure, if Athens had existed here, but of course it didn’t and so only the Nameless Goddess remained. It was obvious what strife had come over the land, what blood had been spilt.

Our story lives here, in the heart of the Mountains of Sval, far away from even Ket and any sort of civilization thereof. Deep in the ice, and the rock, hid something strange. Perhaps a deity, or the makings of one. Perhaps a pestilence, a disease that could wipe out all we’ve ever known and loved. Nobody knew what Her Majesty was searching for here. Three camps that contained hundreds of citizens each with more on the way were here (author’s note: our characters are in the same camp but may interact with the other two as the story permits) and the three camps seemed to hate each other more than they even hated Her Majesty. It was a thing of status: whoever made the most progress the most efficiently and was the most obedient got the best of the supplies and the most assistance.

Ttarmek knew that his camp was falling behind. He’d taken the leader role in stride, it was nothing he wasn’t used to. A younger gentleman by the name of Romulus had become his second in command, the one to distribute orders and information where Ttarmek couldn’t always communicate. It helped to have a more human-appearing face for the humans, and a more beastly face for the beasts. Ttarmek had lately been sitting in one particular room in the vast underground structure that made up their camp. It was safer and warmer to just hollow out areas in the deeper parts of the mountain than to use the flimsy tents the Queen’s military had supplied. This room was essentially a makeshift hospital, and was where about ten people were sitting in pain now.

Including Kindreth.

The smaller man had caught some sort of disease from bartering with the other two camps, and hadn’t taken it well. Two other patients had caught the disease as well, but the three had been pushed to the far reaches of the room where the warmth of the campfires didn’t quite extend far enough to feel comfortable. Otherwise, everyone else here was stuck with physical ailments such as broken bones or otherwise suffering for non-pestilence reasons. Kindreth had begged Ttarmek to stay away, keep going, but he’d been so weak and frail that he could barely protest as he was swaddled and bundled in as many blankets as could be spared.

The disease in question was nothing more than a fever and a cough at first, but soon it developed into an advanced pneumonia that kept wearing down at Kindreth’s system until he seemed like a ghost, barely alive and too close to death for Ttarmek to process.

Someone (author’s note: this can be anyone’s character or characters) walked into the room. Ttarmek didn’t notice. All he was focused on was keeping his love safe, even if it meant being ambushed himself. Not everyone at this camp was trustworthy, murders and horrific injuries were about a monthly occurrence due to fighting and violence of all sorts.

The tunnels cut into the stone of the mountains had a winding labyrinthine quality to them, but once you learned them, they weren't hard to navigate. Those who were new often had to make crudely drawn maps to find their way, or stay in the tents in the upper caves, open to the wind and barely shielded from the snow. The ones who had been around a little while knew where the important caverns were, like the "messhall" and the smaller rooms where a fire could keep you warm. The veterans who had survived this long knew the tunnels well, only getting turned around while tired or dazed.
Franklyn never got lost.
This was something he was glad of as he hurried now through the tunnels, his delivery steaming in his hands. He had just received a final ingredient for it, and had whipped it up on the surface, where he'd had the rest of the pot boiling. Romulus had returned from a foraging trip, and had been able to gather the herbs Franklyn had asked for.
Now, he was hurrying to deliver what he hoped was a cure, or at least a help, to Kindreth. His mechanical boots were speeding him along, allowing him to move much faster than he could have on his own. A few of the guards heard him coming and started to frown or question where he was going in such a hurry, but the presence of his big brother a few steps behind him put a smile on their faces. Franklyn was glad. If Romulus and his gregarious ways allowed Franklyn to move around easier, great. Trusting the guards was not a luxury the smaller Vale brother really had.
He came clumping into the 'infirmary', a bundle wrapped in furs in his hands, and nearly bumped into the hulking figure of Ttarmek, seated between Franklyn and his target: Kindreth. He stepped around the big orc and set his steaming bundle down, before quickly beginning to peel back the layers of furs and blankets covering the Elf.
"I was able to make a poultice and a broth that should really help. The poultice will sit against his skin and cause his airways to open, as well as helping thin all the phlegm in his lungs. The broth will fight the infection and also help him rest, as well as act as a painkiller. Both will warm him, too." He hurriedly explained himself, not wanting Ttarmek to think he'd lost his mind. Pulling coverings off the Elf in this condition wouldn't have been looked at too kindly, most likely.
Romulus caught up to his brother, having charmed the guards with a smile and a salute, and was standing just to the the side of Ttarmek, watching as Franklyn worked. He was still wearing his roughcloth tunic and pants, and the snow was beginning to melt off of them. He hadn't even had time to change into dryer clothes before Franklyn was off and pelting through the tunnels. His little brother's enthusiasm made him smile, but the guards were suspicious of such excitement, so he'd hurried after.
"How's he doing?" he quietly asked Ttarmek, as Franklyn laid the hot poultice against Kindreth's chest, and began rewrapping him in the blankets and furs. He stepped around the bedroll Kindreth was on, and picked up a small bowl or large mug. The dish acted as both, and was currently full of the broth Franklyn had made. Romulus held it out to Ttarmek, assuming he'd rather feed his husband than have Franklyn do it.

Ttarmek was pleasantly surprised to see Franklyn, and when Romulus appeared soon after he fully relaxed. He nodded at the explanation, and when Romulus asked about Kindreth all he could do was shake his head slightly. He took the broth and looked up from where he was kneeling, to the ceiling as if he was looking not at stone but blue, cloudless sky. He said a quick prayer in a tongue that only the orcs could understand-not for lack of trying, it was simply a strange language that required a certain apparatus in the throat that no other species had-and then brushed the unwashed hair out of half-asleep Kindreth’s feverish face, causing him to jolt awake in an unsettling manner that made Ttarmek flinch slightly.

Kindreth was sat up by his husband, leaning across his lap and watching the stone wall like there was something interesting happening there. He had been seeing strange visions and having nightmares since the fever took the reasonable part of his mind, and hallucinations were simply part of that. Ttarmek couldn’t tell what Kindreth was thinking. But he could hopefully get him to eat, and then could watch him sleep some more whilst Romulus led the group. The guards-although, they were generally more like torturers who sat around making sure you worked until your bones broke, then gave you an hour or two to rest before more work-didn’t tend to try to mess with Ttarmek. For all their magic imbued weapons and bravado, nobody wanted to take on an Orc, especially not a Plains Orc or anyone who that beast loved or at least respected.

Ttarmek brought the broth to Kindreth’s mouth, and the elf drank it slowly, taking moments to pause and cough before bringing his hands to the container and letting hunger take over. Kindreth then slumped into Ttarmek’s torso, falling asleep once more.

Ttarmek's silence was telling, so Romulus didn't push for more of an answer. Besides, hopefully Franklyn's poultice and broth would help significantly, and Kindreth would be feeling better soon.
Romulus certainly hoped so, for a couple reasons. For one, Kindreth's death would just be sad if he didn't make it. Franklyn was relatively close to the Elf, being cut from the same cloth- small, intelligent and bookish, traumatized and now stuck here. And two-… Ttarmek's silence was hard to overcome. The camp wasn't a unified whole, but there was a large swathe that was willing to work under a leader. The big Orc was that leader. Romulus looked up to him, in many ways. Romulus had lost his father at a young age, and couldn't help the father-figure vibes he got from Ttarmek. It also helped that they were similar, like his brother and Kindreth- both strong men built for war, but with big hearts, a spiritual side, and wisdom borne of experience.
The key difference was that Romulus was young, and enthusiastic, and didn't always know how to lead very well. His time in the military had made him a weapon, not a commander, and when Ttarmek wasn't around to lead…
"Shulkru has been giving me trouble again." Romulus said quietly after a few minutes. He'd waited for Ttarmek to finish feeding Kindreth the broth, and had been silent for a bit. "I'm not sure what to do… I've tried diplomacy, but he's not having it, and I hate trying to enforce things with 'Ttarmek said'… feels like a small child preparing to tattletale." The big bugbear had always been angry about the fact Romulus had sway within the camp, and in Ttarmek's absence, he was causing trouble, getting into fights with Romulus's friends and generally being problematic. "Do I just-… I could just beat it out of him, but…" He left the statement hanging, to see if Ttarmek had any wisdom to offer.

Franklyn, meanwhile, was watching Kindreth's response. He wasn't a doctor, but putting his mind to work on a medical problem was like trying to solve a puzzle, and that he was good at. So he watched, and waited. He was looking for a lessening of symptoms, some sign of relief from Kindreth, increased coughing as the phlegm began to come up, etc. His brother's troubles were different from the kinds of problems he ran into, being a small, less influential type. He was more concerned with small interpersonal things, rather than the loyalties of half the camp.

(I'm interested, is this still-still open?)

(Heck yeah! Just make your character!)

Name: Saffron
Age: 19
Gender/Pronouns: male he/him
Orientation: straight
Species: he's a human
Appearance: he has long white hair that he's put in braids for convenience sake. His skin is a darker tan from growing up as a kid in the sunlight. His eyes are grey like a storm, and he constantly wears a smile on his face even when the situation isn't good because he wishes to help keep spirits high. He's around 6'5 and has a more slim build. He's not super strong, and he won't hurt someone unless he needs too as a very very last resort.
Wardrobe: he has a simple beige tunic, that's been stained by dirt having been in the mine as long as he has. The usual pants and shoes.
Personality: he's a very loyal person to those he makes friends with, he's very trusting of people(sometimes albeit too much), he's very much a helper to other people, he always wants to lend a hand when he notices someone struggling. He's very wholesome and just extroverted, he will talk or start a conversation with anyone unless they made it clear to him that they don't want to converse. (well at least before they went mute)
Skills: he's good at foraging for food with his knowledge of herbs and plants that you can eat and can't eat.

Power(s)?: he has a good connection with nature, and plants. He can heal some small wounds and sicknesses, but it equally affects him in turn. The more he heals, the weaker he gets. He can also bring plants back to health, or grow plants in areas where they have grown before. He can't grow anything in dead soil.

Backstory: he's been working at the tavern since he was a little kid with his dad, and soon he grew up and learned to help manage it on his own. Well one day he found one of his paetrons cheating on their significant other, and gave them warning to tell them or he would. Well they didn't listen to him so he ended up telling on them. So the husband got mad and placed a curse on him so that he could only ever repeat what he hears and never form sentences on his own. He has been struggling for this curse for at least 5 years now, and somewhere during that time he was sentenced to the mines.

Theme song(s)?:
Other?: he has black tattoos on his arms!! They signify fire, and plants. Death and life. Etc. I will find a reference photo later :))

Name: Raiki
Age: (16-50)- 19
Gender/Pronouns: He/him
Orientation: Ace
Species: Beastman(Wolfman)
Appearance: Short gray hair, piercing yellow eyes. he is tall and lean, with a decent bit of wirey muscle.
Wardrobe: Simple clothes, Pants, long sleeve
Personality: Raiki is always calm, and goes with the flow. He's not one to make a fuss, or get in the way. He is always a mediator, a skill honed by years in a crowded household, and by having some more rambunctious friends across the years. He always has a soft sort of energy, sometimes providing a comment to difuse a situation, sometimes providing a story. He in generally quite passive rather then active in a situation.
Skills: Very athletic, with good jumps, and nimble.
Power(s)?: (go easy on this one, powers cannot manipulate environment or others too much (as in, no straight telekinesis or mind control) (but things like superior strength, healing, etc are ok) but still feel free to be creative!)- Simply more athletic then a normal Human, nothing special.
Backstory: Raiki is the oldest of a very large family. Well, second oldest. The oldest of the siblngs left to pursue their dreams a while ago, so Raiki was left as the sibling responsible for the younger ones. Raiki's family had always been poor, so he always helps them out. Thats why he's taken the job in the mountains.

Theme song(s)?:
Other?:

Name: Drekar Halbenarian
Age: 46
Gender/Pronouns: Male He/Him
Orientation: Bi
Species: Dragonkin
Appearance: Drekar stands at 8 feet and 4 inches and weighs 423 pounds. He looks vastly different from other Dragonkin of his clan in that he has no scales, instead sprouting feathers from where the patches of scales would normally be on his clanmates (the skull where hair normally grows, all the way down his back, across his shoulders, on his forearms and on the backs of his calves). These feathers are iridescent like oil, shaded in all manners across his body - though only in grayscale, ranging from true white at the tip of each feather to almost an abyssal shade of black at the base. His skin is shaded in a gleaming slate color, with little markings reminiscent of those on diamond back rattlesnakes covering every space of skin not covered by feather, shaded in the same white as the tips of his feathers. In many cases, however, his markings are interrupted by thick, vicious, ropey scars, likely from one of the massive bears that stalk his clans lands. His face is thick and lengthened slightly, like an Argonian's. His eyes glow a fierce, fiery orange; they look exactly like snake eyes otherwise. He has a thick, heavily muscled body with very little fat on it, indicative of clear effort to stay in shape. His palms and fingers are heavily calloused and scarred from years of handling swords and spears, and now pickaxes and shovels. His legs are divided into three sections: the base that connects at the hip, as normal; a second piece that bends back at a 45° angle below the first piece; and a third piece, which connects to a digitigrade foot.
Wardrobe: He generally forgoes heavy winter clothing for a thin tunic and light, baggy shorts that cinch down around the base of the first section of each leg.
Personality: He's a very practical, unassuming character within the camp. He does his work and then does whatever is left. He never talks or raises his voice, but if he does decide to say something, his unintentionally harsh tone usually gets people to listen. He isn't arrogant or prideful in any sense, nor does he ever want to come across as such. He just isn't good with words or people, instead choosing the easier options of avoidance or doing something himself. He avoids any conflicts he can as well; if he has to he will fight but usually he tries to just let the situation blow over. He actually tends to get overwhelmed by larger crowds of people as well, so he avoids them as much as possible.
Skills: Hand to hand combat, spear fighting, sword fighting, axe combat, knife and dagger combat, and archery. Despite his large and bulky frame, he's excellent at stealth and tracking. He's good at appearing where you least expect it and disappearing when he's no longer needed.
Power(s)?: Due to his heritage he has a minor glamor ability, really only useful for staying undetected within dark areas, as well as above average night/dark vision and an ability to mask his scent and muffle his footsteps. As for abilities from his clan, he has one: Battle Frenzy. It does pretty much what you expect, but it only lasts for a max of an hour before the stress becomes to great for his body to handle and he collapses.
Backstory: He was born and raised a warrior by his clan, but was eventually forced into hiding when his clan was beaten down and forced into near extinction, in the process losing his wife and their two kids. As a result of all this he denounced the path of the warrior and adopted the lifestyle of a common assassin, taking on a vow to never let the memories of his past fade from sight.
Theme song(s)?: None, but feel free to find one.
Other?:

Saffron was already in the infirmary, using what little abilities he had to try and help some of the people who were sick. He wanted to at least alleviate the pain while he still could ..and help them pass peacefully if that was what was needed. He was a bigger fellow…but he didn't give off an intimidating aura, just one of gentleness. He was simply just that, a gentle giant that wanted to help people. Yet he was unable to do much down here…try as he might he failed to help much.

He noticed someone entering the infirmary area and made his way to peak at them, before realizing who it was and walking over to the group of them.

"How is he doing…?"

Carter Lee was trying to find his way to, well anywhere, but he seemed to only be able to find more tunnels. He hadn't been there long, but not like it could matter, he could get lost in a house with three rooms. Lee was thankful he wasn't able to feel the cold that much, definitely made life easier. He probably had some task he was supposed to do or something, but he didn't care enough to actually do them, or hadn't and now he had forgot them, so at this point he was just walking in circles practically. Some guys had offered him maps, but he can't read so decided it was not worth it.

Drekar stood in one of the tunnel entrances, looking out into the mountains in the distance.

Sval-Ket. Namely, Sval. Where he currently stood, the Mountains. Far, far away from his mountains, maybe even possibly across universes. Who knows at this point. . . they might be.

He sees a face for a briefest moment - a young child, a girl - before he shakes it off. He knew his vow, but now was not the time. Now was work-time, now was the time for hammers and pickaxes and shovels. Or it would be, if not for a giant gash on the Dragonkin's leg.

He sighs, his warm breath hitting the air and creating a large puff of white steam, before making his way to the infirmary within the cavernous openings of the mines.

He ducks inside, his large frame barely fitting through the entryway, and nods at the others that were injured. He takes a seat and waits, for now, seeing clearly that the medics were busy dealing with the afflicted in the back of the room.