Jara Djoven, Half orc outcast of the Atarka Brood!
The orc has been for many eons a robust inhabitant of Tarkir's high mountains and tundras, happily slaking the devouring hunger of the winged dragons that fill Tarkir's skies with constant hunts and raids into surrounding regions, gathering unimaginable piles of food for their overlords. Above all, the great Dragon Atarka, master of all hunts, holds sway over nearly the whole population of both dragons and orc alike.
Yet Jara Djoven was never accepted by these, or their flying masters. His clan sought safety and had the temerity to stand against other, more zealous tribes of the high tundras. Pursued for much of his life, he witnessed the near-extinction of his tribe during a climactic battle atop of a glacier-peak, forced into a tumbling fall to his death by a blast of air from a young but mighty Red Dragon. Jara fell, for what felt like ages, but never quite reached the bottom. A rage sparked within him - blood boiled and the air around him seared with newfound might. Vengeance held him close to life, and though it seemed a part of him had died, a new Hunt would define his life - to take vengeance on dragonkind for their greed, their unslakable hunger, their imperious pride, and above all for their careless cruelty to those Jara loved. He never felt the bottom of that fall, as the air shimmered around him and, softly landing on a new world, left his thirst for vengeance unsatisfied, for now!
(Hope this works and makes sense! Class is Ranger 4 (Hunter), Barbarian 1, if multiclassing is allowed. Toyed with the idea that Rage and Spark are somehow intertwined, and it seemed neat and fitting with a green or red aligned planeswalker, possibly with a splash of whichever other in the future! Thanks for reading!)
Noggs Tiefling (Blood of Mammon); Artificer (Armorer); Urchin New Capenna; Red (hints of Blue and White) Model detail here
Backstory
Noggs woke with a start at the pounding on his room's door. He was lifted out of his dream and fumblingly grasped at the lantern to turn it up. From the sound in the hallway, everyone was being roused. This was a big one. There was gonna be blood tonight. But Noggs couldn't get the dream out of his head, or at least he didn't want to.
He had come to expect the dreams, always of places that seemed impossible. Nothing like his home in New Capenna, way down in the low parts of the city where he had been born and taken in by the Riveteers. They valued the way he hefted a hammer, and occasionally his tinkering, but not his questions, which Noggs had a lot of. Noggs never told anyone else about the dreams. He was already viewed as a punchline, sometimes literally. No need to give the rougher members more fodder. This dream had been a place he'd seen before: delicate metalwork reached to the sky, powered by some strange magical fuel. Everything had seemed so light and delicate in the dream. Not the blocky, brutish architecture of Capenna. But this wasn't the only place. Noggs had seen places like what he imagined the outskirts of the city had once looked like, before it had been destroyed. He saw places of neon light and ephemeral spirits, places of dark woods and the shadowy things that stalked them, places of chivalrous knights and ancient magics, and, most ominously and beckoningly, places of nothing but metal and industry where his tinkerer's eye was overcome by the sheer promise of what he saw.
Noggs shook his head to dispel his reverie and slid into the armor he'd been working on. He was tough demon, but this armor almost made him as strong as a rhox. If he could crack some heads in this tonight, maybe his bosses would listen and let him make more for the gang. As the armor settled into place, he made his way tot he work yard where a forge boss was giving orders.
"Some Maestros think they can come on to our turf and take what they please! They think because they're boss is a collector that we, the blood of the industry in this city, will let them take what they want. I say they can choke on their halo! Let's defend what's ours! Riveteers, unleash the inferno!" The roar of bloodlust was nearly overwhelming as it reverberated from the stone walls around them. The gang started to jog towards the intrusion to their turf and Noggs joined them, letting himself settle into the armor as he swung his hammer to loosen up.
The Maestros weren't far, having set up a perimeter as they tried to crack a storage vault. At the sight of the rival gang, the Riveteers broke into a sprint, eager for blood. The Maestros dug in, ready for a fight. But they weren't ready for the shadow that swooped over. Noggs looked up in awe as Ziatora herself, the dragon who led the Riveteers let herself fall and unleashed a torrent of fire into the Maestros. The cheer was loud, but quickly drowned out by the crash of bodies and the sharp report of gunfire.
Noggs let loose with the hammer, his armor pushing his strength even further. The Riveteers would easily handle this skirmish. Or so they thought. When the vampires rushed into the fight, things turned quickly. The undead fought with a viciousness that the Riveteers had to admire, even as it bore down on them. Noggs looked for a better position to rally up and get some gang behind him when he saw the shadow swoop again. He raised his hammer in a cheer but cut himself off with, "The hell is..." Ziatora grabbed a Rhox from among her own gang and hurled it at the defensive line of the Maestros, even breathing fire to turn the Riveteer into a flaming missile. Noggs shook his head, There was no way that had just happened. It must have been something else. His own gang wouldn't use their people like that ... would they?
Noggs didn't have a lot of time to think more about it as the shadow swooped and a deeper darkness covered him. Noggs saw the Maestros around him duck and run. He turned to see a dragon's claw the size of his body about the grab him. Then he saw nothing. But he also heard nothing. Or at least he didn't hear the fight anymore, but heard something else. Like a buzzing sound. Noggs slowly opened his eyes and found himself in what he thought must be a park. It had to be that, right? All the trees and the plants? But where was the Capenna skyline? Where was anybody else? Even parks were crowded in the city.
Noggs lifted his goggled up to his forehead and looked out an expanse of wilderness like he had never seen. No sound of people. Certainly no sound of a gang war. Nothing. He lets his arms drop to his side. "What the f-"
Applications are now officially closed. All of your submissions are great, but I am not skilled enough to run for that many people in one campaign. I will pm the players I choose.
Jara Djoven, Half orc outcast of the Atarka Brood!
The orc has been for many eons a robust inhabitant of Tarkir's high mountains and tundras, happily slaking the devouring hunger of the winged dragons that fill Tarkir's skies with constant hunts and raids into surrounding regions, gathering unimaginable piles of food for their overlords. Above all, the great Dragon Atarka, master of all hunts, holds sway over nearly the whole population of both dragons and orc alike.
Yet Jara Djoven was never accepted by these, or their flying masters. His clan sought safety and had the temerity to stand against other, more zealous tribes of the high tundras. Pursued for much of his life, he witnessed the near-extinction of his tribe during a climactic battle atop of a glacier-peak, forced into a tumbling fall to his death by a blast of air from a young but mighty Red Dragon. Jara fell, for what felt like ages, but never quite reached the bottom. A rage sparked within him - blood boiled and the air around him seared with newfound might. Vengeance held him close to life, and though it seemed a part of him had died, a new Hunt would define his life - to take vengeance on dragonkind for their greed, their unslakable hunger, their imperious pride, and above all for their careless cruelty to those Jara loved. He never felt the bottom of that fall, as the air shimmered around him and, softly landing on a new world, left his thirst for vengeance unsatisfied, for now!
(Hope this works and makes sense! Class is Ranger 4 (Hunter), Barbarian 1, if multiclassing is allowed. Toyed with the idea that Rage and Spark are somehow intertwined, and it seemed neat and fitting with a green or red aligned planeswalker, possibly with a splash of whichever other in the future! Thanks for reading!)
I will keep the submissions open for today (I am in est). Tomorrow I will pick my players. Thank you to everyone for submitting!
No experience at all with MTG, but I'm interested and will make a character as soon as I'm able.
I stayed up late to write a bsckstory and accidentally deleted it.
Dropping out. No time to re-write the backstory.
Noggs
Tiefling (Blood of Mammon); Artificer (Armorer); Urchin
New Capenna; Red (hints of Blue and White)
Model detail here
Backstory
Noggs woke with a start at the pounding on his room's door. He was lifted out of his dream and fumblingly grasped at the lantern to turn it up. From the sound in the hallway, everyone was being roused. This was a big one. There was gonna be blood tonight. But Noggs couldn't get the dream out of his head, or at least he didn't want to.
He had come to expect the dreams, always of places that seemed impossible. Nothing like his home in New Capenna, way down in the low parts of the city where he had been born and taken in by the Riveteers. They valued the way he hefted a hammer, and occasionally his tinkering, but not his questions, which Noggs had a lot of. Noggs never told anyone else about the dreams. He was already viewed as a punchline, sometimes literally. No need to give the rougher members more fodder. This dream had been a place he'd seen before: delicate metalwork reached to the sky, powered by some strange magical fuel. Everything had seemed so light and delicate in the dream. Not the blocky, brutish architecture of Capenna. But this wasn't the only place. Noggs had seen places like what he imagined the outskirts of the city had once looked like, before it had been destroyed. He saw places of neon light and ephemeral spirits, places of dark woods and the shadowy things that stalked them, places of chivalrous knights and ancient magics, and, most ominously and beckoningly, places of nothing but metal and industry where his tinkerer's eye was overcome by the sheer promise of what he saw.
Noggs shook his head to dispel his reverie and slid into the armor he'd been working on. He was tough demon, but this armor almost made him as strong as a rhox. If he could crack some heads in this tonight, maybe his bosses would listen and let him make more for the gang. As the armor settled into place, he made his way tot he work yard where a forge boss was giving orders.
"Some Maestros think they can come on to our turf and take what they please! They think because they're boss is a collector that we, the blood of the industry in this city, will let them take what they want. I say they can choke on their halo! Let's defend what's ours! Riveteers, unleash the inferno!" The roar of bloodlust was nearly overwhelming as it reverberated from the stone walls around them. The gang started to jog towards the intrusion to their turf and Noggs joined them, letting himself settle into the armor as he swung his hammer to loosen up.
The Maestros weren't far, having set up a perimeter as they tried to crack a storage vault. At the sight of the rival gang, the Riveteers broke into a sprint, eager for blood. The Maestros dug in, ready for a fight. But they weren't ready for the shadow that swooped over. Noggs looked up in awe as Ziatora herself, the dragon who led the Riveteers let herself fall and unleashed a torrent of fire into the Maestros. The cheer was loud, but quickly drowned out by the crash of bodies and the sharp report of gunfire.
Noggs let loose with the hammer, his armor pushing his strength even further. The Riveteers would easily handle this skirmish. Or so they thought. When the vampires rushed into the fight, things turned quickly. The undead fought with a viciousness that the Riveteers had to admire, even as it bore down on them. Noggs looked for a better position to rally up and get some gang behind him when he saw the shadow swoop again. He raised his hammer in a cheer but cut himself off with, "The hell is..." Ziatora grabbed a Rhox from among her own gang and hurled it at the defensive line of the Maestros, even breathing fire to turn the Riveteer into a flaming missile. Noggs shook his head, There was no way that had just happened. It must have been something else. His own gang wouldn't use their people like that ... would they?
Noggs didn't have a lot of time to think more about it as the shadow swooped and a deeper darkness covered him. Noggs saw the Maestros around him duck and run. He turned to see a dragon's claw the size of his body about the grab him. Then he saw nothing. But he also heard nothing. Or at least he didn't hear the fight anymore, but heard something else. Like a buzzing sound. Noggs slowly opened his eyes and found himself in what he thought must be a park. It had to be that, right? All the trees and the plants? But where was the Capenna skyline? Where was anybody else? Even parks were crowded in the city.
Noggs lifted his goggled up to his forehead and looked out an expanse of wilderness like he had never seen. No sound of people. Certainly no sound of a gang war. Nothing. He lets his arms drop to his side. "What the f-"
Hope I made it in time! See above edited post from the earlier placeholder!
Applications are now officially closed. All of your submissions are great, but I am not skilled enough to run for that many people in one campaign. I will pm the players I choose.
Thank you for your time and consideration (assuming I didn't get an invite.) Maybe next time :)
Cats go Moo!
I truly did like every application. No hard feelings?