Who Am I...

The War Chief of Thistlemere!

Relationship Status

Unattached, but will take many consorts.

My Story Is...

Where I came from doesn’t matter anymore. I am Tearlach. I am War Chief. Thistle Leafblade blesses my fist. I may have come from humble and tortured beginnings, a champion of a god that no longer breathes on these lands. Losing that light I fell to taking any means necessary to gain power, and gained a curse that now fuels my power!

I stand now, in front of the force of tooth and claw, root and thorn. Thistlemere will rule the Southern Continent. We will stand above all, and no would be Conqueror will hold purchase in our lands again! I will stand with my horde and stamp out any threat to my lands!

My Appearance

The man stood tall, straight backed. Broad shouldered with his raven hair pulled back and shaved down at the sides and back. His beard was kept in four braids hanging down, bordering each side of his mouth, and two from his chin. His outfit was old leather armor, covering over individual armor plates, a filthy shirt that was once white below it. On his right arm was a thick heavy leather bracer, but his left arm was left exposed and bear. Knotwork scars danced the flesh leading to what appeared to be roots boring into the flesh, turning to a smooth, yet gnarled looking approximate of a hand. The fingers ended in brutal looking talons. His kilt was filthy, torn, and filled with holes from conflict, the extra material covers over to his left shoulder like a sash, and his thick heavy leather boots end with metal toe cover. Throughout where furs and bones as decoration, pouches carrying tools and materials lined his belt, a large dirk hangs from it. A mighty longbow is upon his back, carved with runes along its limbs, and in his hand is a mighty looking claymore, nicked and scored from battle.


His main gear is his heavy claymore, his dirk, and longbow. He carries several ingredients for potions and oils to use to help in his combat, and a pouch of specialized mushrooms grown for his personal use. He has a war horn to call upon his horde of woodfolk, and a way to signal the Space Wolves that where sent to work with him by SpArk.

His claymore has changed, along with it’s owner, showing ornate woodland symbols, but pitted and scored from heavy use. His bow has rune symbols to strengthen the limbs, he does not carry a quiver as his wooden fist makes his arrows as he needs them. His dirk is cold iron, with a special poisoner system to coat the blade with silver nitrate to help deal with those weak to silver.

My Secrets Are...

He has a war beast form. In said form he grows taller than he was, his bulk changing. It usually ruins the armor he wears, and shows him with more ursine looks, his right hand turning paw like, and ending in wicked nails. His wooden hand is used to use many traps and powered with the Druidic and Nymphic power.  He can create weapons, and his arrows as he needs.

I Believe...

Nature Reclaims, and I stand above all!