Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register ) · IRC Chat

Personal Photo
Personal Statement
Better than Marcus.
Personal Info
Lord Garthaur
Master of the Obsidian Citadel
30 years old
A deep, dark corner of your innermost fears...
Born Jan-25-1990
RPing, video games such as FE, Nintendo in general, reading, writing, music (RAP doesn't count), manga, being random...
Other Information
Wii Friend Code: No Information
DS/Wii Friend Codes: No Information
Google Talk: No Information
Former Identities: No Information
Skype: No Information
Joined: 9-September 06
Time Online: 5d 21h 49m 49s
Profile Views: 10,290*
Last Seen: Private
Local Time: Aug 5 2020, 07:28 PM
952 posts (0 per day)
Contact Information
AIM No Information
Yahoo No Information
ICQ No Information
MSN No Information
* Profile views updated each hour

Lord Garthaur


Current Mood: Horny - and for good reason
FETO Profile

RP Data
My Content
23 Jul 2009
I have been diagnosed with mononucleosis. This means very little for most of you, but for those with whom I am currently engaged in RPs with, it means slightly less activity on my part. Instead of posting every two-three days or so, I may end up posting more like once a week.

Note that this does not mean I am leaving FEP, nor does it mean that I am reducing my activity permanently - simply while I recover, however long that takes. Mono can play out anywhere from a month to six twelve weeks. >.>;;

Again, a recap: I have mono. I will not be able to post quite as often - or as fully - as I would like, but I am not leaving the site anytime soon.
7 Jul 2009
In a small cottage on the Alacia-Olivan border, a young man with a shaggy frock of blond hair sat in the light of a single candle, poring over sheets upon sheets of parchment. His eyes were sunken in as if he had not slept in weeks, and his withered hands shook to the point that he could barely hold the pages. His skin was drawn taut with malnutrition, making him seem more like eighty than his actual twenty-three, but his sunken eyes burned with a fervor that could not be quenched.

At length, he picked up one sheet, held it up before the candle, and stared at it for a long time. Finally he broke out into an exhausted smile before his head fell to hit the table in utter exhaustion.

"Tomorrow," a weary but determined voice hissed. "Tomorrow..."


Lunos trudged into the center of Rynas, the capital of what to him was a highly undesirable country in which to live. He liked being able to get places on foot, and he liked large stretches of land pockmarked with little hidey-holes. Alacia, with its mountains, had neither. Not only was he an easy target on the mountainside for anyone to see and attack, but much of the inter-city transport was on wyvern- or pegasus-back. Lunos didn't much care for wyverns; he found them annoying and far too territorial, not to mention they smelled like the week-old fish he used to find vendors selling as a kid. And pegasi, of course, made him sneeze. It was for these reasons, among others, that Lunos almost never ventured into Alacia.

That said, it was for precisely these reasons that Lunos was in Alacia at this moment. In his trade, he could never afford to stay in one place too long. He'd not been to Alacia in ages, so naturally they weren't on their guard as much from a threat like him: all the more reason to go there. Less guard equals more opportunity, he'd found.

Looking up at the midday's clear but cold sky, Lunos wrapped his cape tighter around him and burst through the door of the first tavern he saw. Apparently it was well-run, for though it was loud and raucous, it was well-controlled. Everything was orderly, there were no fights or spills, and the service was immediate. The second he entered, a plump barmaid - she looked to be past her prime, but she carried herself with an energy a seven-year-old would have envied - greeted him. "Welcome to the Rolling Barrel, dearie. What can I getcha?"

Lunos waved his hand nonchalantly, his easy grin returning quickly. "Whaddya got?"

"House special today is hot beef stew, dearie."

"One of those, and a tall mug of your best whiskey. And a table in a corner."

The barmaid nodded with a wide, practiced smile, and led him to a small table near the fireplace. "You'll have your food as soon as it's ready, dearie," she said before bouncing off to add his order.

Lunos sank gratefully into the chair and, leaning back, let his eyes and ears roam around the tavern.
2 Jul 2009
RP Topic: http://forums.feplanet.net/index.php?showtopic=40300

SETTING: Alacia, late in the month of the Falling Sun.

PLOT BLURB: On behalf of their employer, unlikely heroes set out to seize a fortress from a crazed clergyman and confiscate an item from him. The clergyman, however, has other ideas, and has fortified his fortress into what he hopes is an impregnable bastion.

PARTICIPANTS: Open to a minimum of four, including myself, and a maximum of six eight. Preferably first-tier.
  1. Lunos Vanauri Cavandro {Level 12 Brawler | Lord Garthaur}
  2. Kiara Saoirse {Level 10 Thief | Gemini Shadows}
  3. Leopold Asden {Level 20 Drake Rider | Crimea River}
  4. Zap Flaneur {Level 14 Myrmidon | Sanakitty}
  5. Zenalis Wolfstorm {Level 5 Lancer | Zubeneschemali Toboe}
  6. Erin Cadoc {Level 6 Viking | Otani} dropped T_T

  7. (by special request) Noel Arees {Level 10 Minikete | Zangief}
  8. (by special request) Nike Valentia {Level 5 Adept | Emy} dropped (IMG:style_emoticons/blue/pinch.gif)
UPDATE: FULL UP. Unless of course, somebody DESPERATELY wants to fill in where Emy or Otani dropped.

Combat will include hack 'n' slash, infiltration, seige tactics, and more, fighting against large forces of both magic and physical units.

There is an NPC involved in this RPFF; the group may choose to have him accompany us or not. His stats are as follows:

Priest, level 10.
Staff level: D
Items: Heal staff, Vulnerary (x10), Antitoxin (x5), Pure Water (x3)

A more complex explication of the plot would require revealing a lot of information, but I can say this much: impoverished Ain wants to retrieve an item of his from the fortress, but its owner had, does, and will prevent him. Why he wants the item has to do with conflicts in family values and love. This RP is the first in a pair.
18 Mar 2009

Name: Valravn "Blackbird"
Nation: unknown
Age: 19?
Race: Beorc
Affinity: Dark

Appearance: Known as the Blackbird, Val has no physical traits reminiscent of his namesake. His hair, a dark red reminiscent of dried, caked blood, is kept cropped short. It is offset by deep blue eyes and kept out of those eyes by a dull violet silken sash that falls to his mid-back. His eyes, unlike those belonging to most in his trade, are not hardened; they are soft and warm, as is his smile. His features are elegant, though neither chiseled nor smooth. They are nothing special to look at, which suits him fine; he'd just as soon remain hard to remember as an assassin. His smile is usually enough to win the occasional barmaid anyway.

He is lean and muscular, though thinner than one might expect from the agile assassin he is. At 5' 6", he weighs in at a mere 110 pounds; his build would be more common to a student of the arcane arts, one that sits in a study day in and day out. Or so it would seem: Val's muscle is wiry and entirely capable of great feats of agility and stamina, if not strength. His muscle is that of a wolf, hungry in a cold winter. His muscle is that of the cornered rodent that deals gashes deeper than its body length.

Val wears a black tunic with a midnight blue trim and a clasped flap that crosses his chest, over a pair of leggings colored a grey just barely lighter that the tunic. His boots are of jet black leather, meant to withstand all sorts of terrain and weather while not limiting movement in any way. He wears a thin pair of black leather gloves, fingerless, under which his forearms are bound in grey wrappings. The left arm of his tunic is missing, having been torn off in a particularly nasty fight during his first solo mission; his left shoulder bears a jagged scar from it. Around his neck and the high collar of his tunic, he wraps a silk scarf to match his headband, which extends to his waist. In battle, he pulls a matching mask over his mouth and nose as well. Belted to his hips are two daggers; to the back of his waist is a third, and a fourth hangs behind his right shoulder. He has other hidden weapons, but will not reveal where they are.

Personality: A bit of an oddball among assassins, Val is kind and brotherly. He tends to be laid-back and lackadaisical when not on a mission, and sometimes even then, though he takes his jobs very seriously. He will not accept a job he believes is immoral, and does extensive research on his targets to ensure the job's legitimacy in his mind, but once convinced of the morality behind a job he'll complete it without a doubt. To those who don't know him, Valravn may seem foolish and easy-go-lucky, like his daggers are completing the job and he's only along for the ride. In fact, just such a perception is carefully constructed. Valravn is quite calculating, and his comrades may rest assured that, having weighed all possible options, he has concluded that assuming a laid-back no-worries manner is the most beneficial to him and to his missions.

Val dislikes those who kill strictly for pleasure. This is not to say that he finds no joy in taking life, for he considers it an art, but he refuses to give in to wanton bloodlust. A proper kill should be elegant, and has many rules of aesthetics that must be followed if at all possible. That said, he would much rather spend his time with a glass of warm wine, a close friend, and a couple of women. His simple, brotherly nature makes him easy to like, and his loyalty to his companions goes unquestioned. He only travels alone when he must to facilitate an assignment, much preferring the company of others.

A deep, ingrained fascination with Kilvas permeates Valravn's life, due to the teachings of his mentor, Lyrfed. He strives to emulate them, or at least his ideal of them. He has none of the anti-laguz sentiment that so engulfed the continent in the past, nor does he feel any sort of drive for laguz-beorc equality; rather, the very concept of laguz-beorc equality rarely crosses his mind. There are no laguz in his guild, for the sole reason that most make, as Lyrfed once stated, "pretty damn lousy assassins, roaring and screeching and flapping all over the place. You'll meet 'em, sure, boy. They're just as good fighters as any human could ever hope to be, maybe better. But they tend not to plan ahead."

In battle, Valravn is silent and lethal. A dervish of the darkness, he prefers not to draw attention to himself if at all possible. Instead, he would much rather slip behind a foe's defenses and disarm him before the battle begins. An unassuming enemy unfamiliar with him would be caught entirely unaware by Val's whirling maelstrom of knives; his blades flash faster than one can blink. Or so he hopes, at any rate. He certainly does rely more on speed than anything else: his philosophy, as he told Lyrfed, is to "jump in and out. Why bother smashing their face in if, in the time it takes to pull a club back for a hit, you could have sliced their throats twenty times over? Better to dodge the blow entirely, too, than to waste time and energy blocking."

Biography: Valravn has no memory of his life before he was a toddler; his mentor told him he was found in the back alleys of Begnion, but it is just as plausible that he was rescued from a death by neglect after his mentor killed his parents. As is, he has no knowledge of a given name, nor of his actual age or parentage. The man who raised him, an accomplished assassin himself, called him simply "boy." That is, until he accepted his first real mission on his own.

His mentor, a kindly elderly assassin who went by Lyrfed, was a member of a small assassin's guild and held the call name of "Osprey". A spry monkey of a man, Lyrfed bore a shock of silver-white hair, a short grey beard, and an eyepatch over his left eye which he claimed was removed in "a freak hairpin smithing tongs accident". They lived in no place in particular, as Lyrfed's guild had no designated location. It infiltrated all nations, and resided in none. Lyrfed made no secret of his trade to Val, who was quickly enthralled by the life he envisioned Lyrfed leading. After a couple years, Lyrfed began taking the boy along on the less dangerous missions and, once he was able to help himself, on the rest of them as well. Thus it was that once the boy hit puberty, Lyrfed inducted him into the guild in his own right. The boy took a name, then: Valravn.

One of Valravn's earliest memories was a mission Lyrfed took him on to eliminate a Begnion merchant. They followed him out to sea and were about to strike when the merchant ship was set upon by a flock of raven pirates from Kilvas. He remembers Lyrfed telling him, "Look close, boy: those are true assassins. They fly in out of nowhere, strike hard and fast, take what they were sent for, and leave no trace of their presence when they are gone." He remembers, too, that Lyrfed, though he brought back proof of the merchant's death as required, refused his pay since he was not the killer. The memory of this was fixed in Valravn's mind as he chose his call name of "Blackbird". His first dagger he named Nevers in this light. The guild gave him a second pair; these he named Badb and Morrígan.

Over the next few years Valravn and Lyrfed worked as partners in their trade. Together they assassinated many a target - yet Lyrfed insisted on not killing innocents, and on choosing jobs carefully. Val began to learn how much a job of such-and-such a caliber would usually pay, when to accept jobs that paid less, and why to be wary of jobs that paid more. He learned the arts of stealth and shadows, of striking quickly and retreating before the target even realized he'd been hit, of feeding purses for key information and slicing them afterwards for refunds.

One mission that stands out in Val's mind was one of the last he'd gone on as Lyrfed's partner. They'd been hired by a Daein nobleman to kill a Crimean rival who he claimed had insulted him and killed his brother, and once convinced of the job's morality had been paid a hefty sum in advance. Valravn had done the extra research on the target's whereabouts while Lyrfed finalized the contract, and the two had set off to the target's country villa. They'd quickly dispatched his perfunctory, incompetent guards, and incapacitated his wife and children. It was then that, poised over the target, Valravn discovered a key piece of evidence that proved the target's innocence.

They woke the target and discovered that no, he'd not purposefully insulted the Daein noble, that the death of the man's brother had been an accident, and that he'd been writing apologies and sending gratuitous amounts of gold in reconciliation attempts for some time now - all of which had not been mentioned by their employer. Lyrfed did not allow himself to leave the job unfinished, but he did allow the Crimean to commission a payback assignment before he died, free of charge.

They arranged it so the Crimean appeared to have died peacefully in his sleep, then left to report their success. Through Valravn's skillful questioning, the Daein nobleman inadvertently revealed that the Crimean had been telling the truth, at which point Lyrfed revealed his new mission and killed the man.

Nearly three years have passed since that day, during which time Valravn split from Lyrfed to work on his own. His first solo mission, he was hired to kidnap a young duchess for his client, who had a blood feud with her father's family and intended to attack their mansion, yet had blood ties with her mother; by kidnapping her, he insured her safety and the continuation of her mother's lineage. That mission remains as one of the most difficult Valravn ever accepted; the duchess was heavily guarded against an anticipated assassination attempt - which made Val's job even harder, since he needed to escape with her alive and unharmed.

He waited on the roof of their mansion for a fortnight, observing the habits of his target and her retainers, and bribing a few of the servants to relay to him seemingly useless tidbits of information while disguised as a suitor. After a long two weeks of watching, waiting, and planning, Valravn decided he was ready. He vaulted in through an open window one evening—

—and landed square in the center of a guard patrol he'd neither witnessed previously nor been informed of.

Valravn fought for his life, surrounded by what seemed like fifty guards in his panic. He stayed alive more by ducking under slower arms and between legs than by actually killing enemies or defending against them. A particularly burly guard, forseeing a rather long, drawn-out chase around the mansion, challenged him to a duel, which Valravn gladly accepted in hopes of limiting casualties (or rather, just one casualty) on his end. Twenty to one were not the most favorable odds, especially when the one was a new assassin, just gone solo, whose expertise lay in the element of surprise and exploiting unprotected weaknesses - not fighting large numbers of heavily armored guards who could just as easily tackle him and ensure his capture at the minimal risk of a life or two.

Badb and Morrígan were only just able to parry the large man's axe blows, despite Val's slight speed advantage, and it took both his arms and knives to parry the guard's one-handed axe. The guard stood a good two heads taller than he and must have been made entirely of muscle. A backhand to the face with his shield knocked Valravn away from a deadlock parry, smashing him against the wall with a broken nose. A nasty blow with the axe nearly clove Val's left arm from his shoulder, leaving it hanging by a shard of bone and a few fraying tendons.

The guard drew back for another blow, giving Val's pain-ravaged mind a desperately-needed second to plan. He grabbed his mostly-severed arm and, gritting his teeth, held it in his free hand, catching the beard of the descending axe between his radius and ulna. It snapped the bones and tore into his arm, mangling it further, but it gave Val the precious opportunity he needed to draw Nevers, which he kept hidden, and lodge it in the web of where the man's throat met his chin. The guard fell, and the rest of them, enraged, launched themselves at Valravn.

So much for chivalry.

Val managed to retrieve Badb and Morrígan, which he'd dropped, in time to deflect most of the new foes. The battle that ensued was rough-and-tumble, and more chaotic than anything else. At its end, Val emerged the miraculous victor, though his arm was as good as lost, and he'd lost far too much blood than he could afford to lose. His right kneecap was shattered, but his enemies had gaping holes in their throats or temples. He retrieved Nevers and continued.

As it was, he limped into her chamber with his clothing torn and blood covering his face and arms. His original plan had been to asphyxiate her just long enough for her to pass out; unfortunately, he had neither the strength nor number of limbs required to hold her down long enough to do so. Instead, he dealt her a sharp rap on the side of the head, knocking her unconscious, and promptly bound, gagged, and blindfolded her - just to be safe. With what little strength he had, he picked her up and leapt out the window. Val hid on the roof of the mansion for hours, until he regained enough strength to carry the girl away. He completed the mission with her in perfect condition; he himself had nearly lost his left arm. It took a year for the tendons to entirely heal. He still bears the scar.

Valravn has since recovered, thanks to the team of three master healer the guild employed, and resumed his career as an assassin for the unnamed guild. He now bears another set of specially commissioned daggers, which he named Huginn and Muninn. He still works with Lyrfed now and again, as he enjoys the old man's company, but he tends not to accept many kidnapping missions.

Thief Level 19

Weapon Levels: Sword {C} [//|||]

Weapons: *to be added upon grading*

Huginn and Muninn: Pair of [Fatal curved, Shaded] daggers, rank C (5).
Badb and Morrígan: Pair of [Killer curved, Thin bladed, Armorslaying, Shaded] daggers, rank C (5).
Nevers: [Returning, Shaded, Serrated] knife, rank C (5).

Shuriken: Set of 10 [Exotic (Hurlbat), Thin bladed] throwing knives, rank C (5).
Caltrops: Set of 5 [Exotic (Hurlbat), Horseslaying] throwing knives, rank C (5).
Bootknives: Pair of [Shaded, Serrated] throwing knives, rank D (3).

Vulnerary x3

Weapon Descriptions: Click Here To Show/Hide This Text
Huginn and Muninn: twin daggers that rest symmetrically on Val's hips. Each bears an onyx set in the pommel, a hilt wrapped in dark grey leather, and a sloping blade with a waved spine and wicked quillions. The blades themselves are about half a foot long, double-edged, and are engraved with runes signifying their names.

Badb and Morrígan: twin knives, one of which rests across Val's back up his right shoulder, the other across the back of his waist near his left hip. Each bears a chunk of obsidian set in the pommel, a hilt wrapped in black leather and monogrammed with a trinity knot, and a gently curved blade with a circular guard. The blades themselves are about a foot long, edged along the convex side, and are unadorned.

Nevers: a short, thin dagger kept concealed under Val's tunic. It is straight, light, and unassuming, suited perfectly for fast-drawing, and equally as much for throwing as for melee combat. Its pommel contains no gem, and its hilt is wrapped in black silk. The blade is serrated, though imperceptibly so.

Valravn also bears five caltrops, ten shuriken, and two bootknives.

Approved by Jamie!
16 Feb 2009
Once, in ages gone by, the land was ruled by a dark figure, lord of all he surveyed. His knowledge of the magical arts was unsurpassed. His time ended, he left this world like a predatory beast satiated with its kill leaves the carcass for the jackals.

Yet now his malice returns. The world will know darkness once again, as his hand reaches out to grasp what once was his, and shall be so again. None now have the might to resist...

The Master of the Obsidian Citadel has emerged once again. All hail Lord Garthaur.
Last Visitors

28 Sep 2019 - 22:16

5 Aug 2016 - 12:13

12 Jan 2014 - 1:46

21 Aug 2013 - 20:44

19 Jul 2013 - 18:22

Knight of G
Question: Am I still the gatekeeper, or has that title passed on to someone else?
25 May 2010 - 17:26
Crimea River
Yet another person I miss badly. DX
9 Jan 2010 - 6:01
Commander Wymsy
*pokes with stick*
9 Jul 2009 - 23:03
Oh, it's like that, is it? *RETALIATORY GLOMP*
7 Jul 2009 - 3:03
The Blind Archer
Why, thank you.
6 Jul 2009 - 1:11


27 posts
Active: 17th May 2010 - 07:26 PM

1837 posts
Active: 6th July 2012 - 04:43 PM

2357 posts
Active: 21st October 2011 - 03:42 PM

1636 posts
Active: 22nd August 2008 - 12:26 PM

1882 posts
Active: 1st May 2013 - 07:31 AM
View All Friends
Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 5th August 2020 - 07:28 PM