RE: The Grand OC! [CONTEST FOUR: COMMAND! SUBMISSIONS WELCOME!]
02-03-2014, 07:53 PM
Usernoime: Gannngnnngggghhh
Name: Yairnbairn MacTaivaish
Species: A BLOODY SCOT IN EV'RY SENSE, YE FAIRY-COWARD!
Gender: A MANNNN LIKE MEN OUGHT TO BE
Colour: OLD SCABBY RED
Description: Yairnbairn is a charismatic warlord of Fictitious Scotland, the somewhat offensive yet highly popular land of lilting accents and arbitrary violence. He's adorned with the red hair and unkempt beard traditional of the people of his land. The warrior's muscles ripple as he moves; you're pretty sure about that because you can see them because he's not wearing very many clothes.
Weapons/Abilities: Yairn wields a hefty iron broadsword that's about as long as he is tall. It slays by its sheer mass as much as a cutting edge. He's full of violent energy and the traditional Penchant For Violence, and is good at talking up a crowd into a riot. He's armored with a kilt and is not wearing anything else anywhere.
anywhere.
Biography: Yairn led a small army known as the Ripe Reds in an era of factions warring for control of Fictitious Scotland. Although seemingly lacking in training, equipment, and numbers compared to their rivals, the Ripe Reds were feared for their inexplicable battlefield prowess.
Yairnbairn looked down from the crest of a tall hill. Before him were the Ripe Reds, his sons and brothers of battle, wielding all kinds of pointy and heavy combinations of wood and metal put together in varying degrees of quality. Their uniform was white wool and cotton. The Ripe Reds made a point of washing them before battles, so the blood of their foes would show better (the reddest Red that wasn't dead got extra-fed). Beyond the Reds was a stretch of pristine green field, which wouldn't stay that way for long because on the hill across that field were their foes of the day. He forgot what they were called. He inhaled deeply.
"RREEDDDSSS!"
The Reds bellowed back unintelligibly.
"GGRRAAAAANGGGHH," Yairnbairn told them.
"RAAAAAAHHH," the white-clad warriors replied in affirmation.
Yairnabairn's calloused hands curled into claws by his sides as he leaned far back. His veins throbbed visibly with bloodlust, as he roared into the air,
"CHAAARRGE!"
From across the field, one could plainly see realization, terror, and resignation on the faces of their foes, as a vicious, vigorous, stream of white-soon-red descended upon them.
Name: Yairnbairn MacTaivaish
Species: A BLOODY SCOT IN EV'RY SENSE, YE FAIRY-COWARD!
Gender: A MANNNN LIKE MEN OUGHT TO BE
Colour: OLD SCABBY RED
Description: Yairnbairn is a charismatic warlord of Fictitious Scotland, the somewhat offensive yet highly popular land of lilting accents and arbitrary violence. He's adorned with the red hair and unkempt beard traditional of the people of his land. The warrior's muscles ripple as he moves; you're pretty sure about that because you can see them because he's not wearing very many clothes.
Weapons/Abilities: Yairn wields a hefty iron broadsword that's about as long as he is tall. It slays by its sheer mass as much as a cutting edge. He's full of violent energy and the traditional Penchant For Violence, and is good at talking up a crowd into a riot. He's armored with a kilt and is not wearing anything else anywhere.
anywhere.
Biography: Yairn led a small army known as the Ripe Reds in an era of factions warring for control of Fictitious Scotland. Although seemingly lacking in training, equipment, and numbers compared to their rivals, the Ripe Reds were feared for their inexplicable battlefield prowess.
Yairnbairn looked down from the crest of a tall hill. Before him were the Ripe Reds, his sons and brothers of battle, wielding all kinds of pointy and heavy combinations of wood and metal put together in varying degrees of quality. Their uniform was white wool and cotton. The Ripe Reds made a point of washing them before battles, so the blood of their foes would show better (the reddest Red that wasn't dead got extra-fed). Beyond the Reds was a stretch of pristine green field, which wouldn't stay that way for long because on the hill across that field were their foes of the day. He forgot what they were called. He inhaled deeply.
"RREEDDDSSS!"
The Reds bellowed back unintelligibly.
"GGRRAAAAANGGGHH," Yairnbairn told them.
"RAAAAAAHHH," the white-clad warriors replied in affirmation.
Yairnabairn's calloused hands curled into claws by his sides as he leaned far back. His veins throbbed visibly with bloodlust, as he roared into the air,
"CHAAARRGE!"
From across the field, one could plainly see realization, terror, and resignation on the faces of their foes, as a vicious, vigorous, stream of white-soon-red descended upon them.
![[Image: xwldX.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/xwldX.gif)