Krouk

[Krouk]

Cordir's quest of words is now over so I thought I would share my description with the realm. (Since TFC limits won't allow me to post it in my actual description). I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed the writing. There might have been some last minute editing in the background that is not shown here.
It would be great if the other contestants would share their entries with the entire realm as well!

Description:

The Halfling before you is of slender proportions. He is unkempt,
scraggly-thin, and very short indeed. He is swift and quiet, yet more
noticeable then most thieves; forever scourged -an oddity of the realm.

His stature is unlike most others you have seen. He is neither plump
nor jovial, but solemn and soused with liquor. Pungent scents of tar
and whiskey pervade the air around him. His head hangs low, bent at
the neck and depressed into his chest; yielding to the burden he carries.

Shielding his skin from the burning sun, a multi colored cloak surrounds
him. The cloth was woven from earthen tones then stained with grass and
clay. The faded fabric is tied with a course brown rope - carefully knotted
about his waist. From this hangs a tarnished silver dagger and several bags
crafted from the hide of small animals.

Underneath his cloak is a protective garment of high quality elven chain.
It is visibly loose - improperly taken from the shop sans adjustments. His
pants are ragged, dirty, and sewn with many patches. The pockets are
deep and bulging. His shoes, worn with age, show paths further traveled
then most Halflings would dare. One of them - split at the toes – is
wrapped in husks of tender nightwood. He is a collector of many disgusting
things. Several bizarre items are tied around his neck, none stranger than
the leg of a large rodent.

Noticing your gaze he briefly lifts his head.
Krouk says, 'I bite back'.

You are startled. Not only by his words, but the condition of his face,
mangled as if one hundred tiny teeth had chewed upon his flesh.
The ivory white skin is pitted with countless tiny scars. The tip of his
nose and the edges of his ears are crooked and gouged. His lips are
practically nonexistent.

He twitches slightly, sneering as you stare at his disfigurement,
flashing his sharp yellow teeth, and then turns away.

As he walks into the distance, you remember not only his nasty glare
and crude personality, but his delicate locks of auburn hair and two
compassionate cerulean eyes - wet like rain drops clinging to the first
spring leaf.

You do not know if he is a child or a man.

Background:

Krouk was born to a wealthy family in the Township of Braddlebury. Due to increased political pressure, they were forced to flee the area. Hoping that a farmining community up north would allow them to live a normal life, they packed what they could carry and sailed across the ocean. Unfortunately, they were wrong. His parents reputation for starting political mischief preceded them. This was something the Thain of Hovelton would not tolerate.

Immediately upon arrival they were intercepted by a thuggish crew of six sheriffs. His family was then personally escorted to the Thain himself, where they were subjected to intense interrogations. Sensing their situation was dire, Krouk’s parents fought for their lives. While his father distracted the Thain, Krouk and his mother ran into the sewer below. There, Krouk’s mother hid him in an old chest and turned to face the sheriffs. He waited for hours, but she never came back.
After what seemed like forever Krouk crawled out of the chest. He was scared and alone. He didn’t want to move but he was hungry. He collected a pile of small stones and stood at the end of a tunnel, hunting rats until finally he struck one of the rodents in the back. The vermin screamed in pain and twitched wildly about the floor. Krouk quickly stomped on its head, relieved that he would finally eat. But before he could take a bite he heard the pattering of hundreds of tiny feet frantically running toward him. A pack of rats had heard the cry and came to defend their sewer. Krouk was grossly outnumbered and unable to defend himself. The animals crawled up his clothes and attacked his face, biting him repeatedly. He fell to the ground, flailing his arms and screaming for help. He thought he was going to die, but then someone grabbed him from above and yanked him out of the sewer.
Krouk couldn’t see and could barely speak. He was simply in pain. He was handed him a cup and told him to drink, so he did. The liquid was bitter and harsh; it burned the back of his throat and warmed his stomach. He drank until the pain went away and then slept.
It took many days for Krouk to heal. During this time he could not open his eyes. His face was wrapped in bandages. When he finally took them off he could smell something delicious. A savory stew was cooking over a fire. He left the big comfortable chair he had been sitting on and quickly gobbled from up.
Krouk looked to his left and finally saw the man who had saved his life. The man smiled at him and said, “You made it, but your parents didn’t.” He handed Krouk a mirror. “You will never be the same again.”
Krouk stared blankly into the mirror. His face was mangled from the attack. His skin was pitted with countless tiny scars. The tip of his nose and the edges of his ears were crooked and gouged. His lips had been completely chewed off.
“What will I do?” he asked.
The man replied, “I am a Master of thieves. I will teach you how to survive. You will hide in the darkness. You will live among the shadows. You are hideous and the world will not accept you as one of them.”
Krouk now spends his youth in the Halfling town, taking what he needs to survive. He will forever defend himself against the evil ways that forced him to leave his home.

Special thanks to Cordir for hosting this enjoyable quest!

Krouk

[Cordir]

Krouk:

I *REALLY* enjoyed your entry, as entirely creepy (in a cool way) that it was! Thank you so much for submitting it for the contest! The ONLY reason it didn't make the top three, was that it WAS too long to actually fit in a mud description, which was the intent of the competition.

-C

[Cordir]

http://wiki.tfcmud.com/index.php/Krouk

[Vale]

Your entry is awesome Krouk

Here's my description (didn't do a character history because I haven't decided on some things)

A cold sensation embraces your body as a silouette in the distance begins to take shape. As your eyes strain to focus, some details begin to take shape. Slender, not too tall, male. Human, certainly. Wait...the point of an ear is visible protruding through his hair, shoulder length, bone white, and unnaturally straight. His facial features are blurred, like trying to read the words from a page of a book that is being flipped through.His body is clad in an immaculate set of bright white leathers, with strips of an icy blue material bound just above his elbows, whicking away a vapor of some sort. And then the you feel it - like stepping into sunlight after being in a cave, a warmth flows through you, pushing back the bone numbing cold and the man is now directly in front of you, smiling. His skin is pale and smooth, and his features are sharp, high cheekbones that are set beneath his wide, oval shaped eyes. The sheen of of so much white is forgotten as you notice his piercing, bright blue eyes. The gaze they cast seems to reach past you, through you, beyond you. His greeting is wordless, a slight bow of the head with his eyes closed. The sounds of his movement as he passes you are dampened and muffled, but the moment he walks by the warmth recedes, the chill surrounding it fades, and, come to think of it, the hour is late...

Thank you Cordir for running this quest and encouraging character development.

[Krouk]

I can only try to express how disheartening it is too put so much effort into something and then to lose because of it; because I crossed a threshold that I was neither warned about nor knew existed. I wrote this description recursively, writing and editing and rewriting until it said exactly what I wanted it to say about myself. When I did attempt to add this to my character I became very frustrated. I tried reformatting and learned that the limitation is not about line quantity, but total characters. Being about 500 characters over I did not see a way to adjust the entry while remaining pleased with the composition. Since there were no boundaries clearly referenced in the quest note I did not think I would be disqualified. This is an opinion that was shared among my peers.

I still offer my thanks to Cordir for running the quest, and especially for adding my entry to the TFC wiki. Your courteous act has helped to soften the blow I felt when I learned that I would not be able to post the description I wanted the realm to see. I did enjoy writing for the contest and as disappointed as I am - I will get over it.

It is only fitting that a quest of words should end in Irony: A thief who feels he was robbed.

[Whoz]

Sorry to hear you feel robbed Krouk. I enjoyed reading your description and back story, as an insight into your character and, worryingly, into your mind!

When writing my description I tried to observe TFC's guidelines for writing mob descriptions, ie they should make sense when viewed multiple times, and in multiple states, eg when fighting. Mine is as follows:

Tall and slender, but not as sylph-like as many of his kind, the half-elf
before you looks more human than elf. He carries himself, though, with the
poise and grace of the ageless ones. Piercing green eyes that miss nothing
are set within a pale-skinned, deeply-lined face - lines that suggest a
readiness to smile, but speak also of hurt and pain.

He is attired head-to-foot in dark leather, bearing the marks of many
battles, both physical and magical. A dark cloak lays across his broad
shoulders and a cowl conceals much of his face. Although his armour is
clearly travel-worn, each tear is neatly repaired, each cut patched and
reinforced. Intricate rings adorn the ring finger of each hand, and an
understated yet clearly precious amulet encircles his neck, partly hidden
amongst the folds of his clothing. In his hand he carries a lethal
sword, its blade dulled, not through neglect, but deliberately so as to
prevent detection. A subtle magic arcs and rolls from hilt to tip, as if
alive to his touch.

Thanks again to Lady Cordir for holding this quest, and prompting me to begin the process of bringing Whoz to life, in words.

[Cordir]

Krouk: To clarify, your entry was *NOT* disqualified! However, the fact that it wasn't a description that would fit / that you could add to your character on the mud, was the sole factor that caused me to weigh other entries higher.

[Aoide]

I've really enjoyed reading everyone's descriptions. I hope this will help encourage more people to have one, even if it's short. There's nothing as boring as "You see nothing special about him." I especially enjoyed what you tried to do Whoz, because it's tricky to write one that works each read-through and even if you're sleeping, etc.