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Almost Legendary: The Further Chronicles of Rurik


Rurik Harrgath

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“Hither came Rurik Harrgath, wild-bearded and sullen-eyed, weapon in hand, a ranger, a reaver, a slayer,

with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the wild places of the earth under his booted feet...”

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Starting  weight baseline :  190 lbs.

Maximum pullups:  12 strict.  Next goal:  15.

Double-unders Combo:  24.

*             *             *

 

Pound_of_Flesh.png  BUFF THE HEALTH POOL:  Also known as Barbarian Alchemy & Eat To Perform.  Health meter starting at 100% and losing 20% for every calorie overage.

  Reward:  +2 WIS, +2 CHA, +1 STA, +1 CON.

 

Brawler.png   MINE IS THE FURY:  Activity meter.  Gains 10-30% per activity above and beyond WODs.

  Reward:  +1 STR, +1 DEX, +1 STA, +1 CON.

 

nND3ysK.jpg  GOLD FROM IRON:  Journey to financial freedom.  Pay off 60 gold sovereigns in debt and accrue no further financial burden.

  Reward:  +2 WIS, + 3 CHA.

 

*             *             *

 

CHALLENGE INSPIRATION

 

I said it better last challenge than I could ever hope to again...

 

Pairing the woodsy, earthen scents of cedar wood, birch bark, and smoldering tobacco from the highlands of World of Warcraft aside an exotic mélange of heady urban musk, notes of amber, bourbon vanilla, and roughly cured leather from Conan the Barbarian, you’ll have a unrestrained, fierce palate prepared for any quest.  With just a hint of Diablo 3 upon the finish, all chaos and brimstone, this challenge will leave you with a profound feeling of satisfaction and a driving thirst for adventure!

 

And now the Golden Age of the Barbarian continues, so strap on your armor and raise your banner.  Grab your weapons, those finely-wrought tools of war, and step toward the wayward path.  Adventure looms, and we’d best not keep it waiting!

 

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  • Like 20

 [ Level ?? ]    Havoc, the Cyberpunk Outrider. 

BRUTALITY 13 | FINESSE 12 | GRIT 13  | INSIGHT 15 | MOXIE 13

Challenges1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

 

"Rangers have to at least give up on pants. It's a special rule we enacted after Rurik became a Guild Leader.” – DarK_RaideR.

"Did I just get my ass kicked by a member of Metallica meets History Channel's Vikings?" - Wolfpool.

"By the Well-Oiled-and-Meticulously-Groomed Beard of Rurik!" - Tanktimus the Encourager.

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Fury.gif?version=2b623cfed9c748edaac7f76

 

IN ADDITION to the main Quests above, each successfully completed task or flavor achievement generates 10 points of my character’s resource, Barbarian Fury.  Larger, more involved activities contribute 20 Fury, and Bonus Adventures allocate 30 Fury.

 

Barbarian Fury:  0/100.

10%
10%

 

List of goals generating 10 Fury:

  • Sledgehammer workouts
  • Rucking
  • Double-unders
  • Barbarian Ranger accessory work (bodyweight movements, flexibility, recovery, etc)
  • Climbing
  • Yoga balancing/poses

Goals generating 20 Fury:

  • Martial arts class
  • Yoga session
  • Exotic meal preparation
  • Favored Terrain (Wilderness) rucking.

Bonus Adventures generating 30 Fury:

  • Darebee martial arts/weaponry workout.
  • Wilderness microadventure.
  • Like 11

 [ Level ?? ]    Havoc, the Cyberpunk Outrider. 

BRUTALITY 13 | FINESSE 12 | GRIT 13  | INSIGHT 15 | MOXIE 13

Challenges1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

 

"Rangers have to at least give up on pants. It's a special rule we enacted after Rurik became a Guild Leader.” – DarK_RaideR.

"Did I just get my ass kicked by a member of Metallica meets History Channel's Vikings?" - Wolfpool.

"By the Well-Oiled-and-Meticulously-Groomed Beard of Rurik!" - Tanktimus the Encourager.

Link to post

PROLOGUE: Flame and Ruin

 

The border region between the Middlelands and the Far, Grim North.

 

Smoke, a dire messenger.

 

It rose in the distance over the horizon, concentrated somewhere in the hills and mountains of the Far, Grim North.  Even as far south as the northernmost Middlelands the distant line where rolling steppe-hills met sky revealed a dull haze of charcoal expanse.  Too much smoke to be a small village or raiding party.  It boded ill for all that the north should blaze; it was an unnatural portent that spoke of fearsome omens.  Somehow he knew that the worst had befallen the lands of his beloved home.

 

Rurik Harrgath’s amber-flecked eyes hardened behind a grim countenance.  His journey from Myzantia had been as uneventful as any man could hope for, but a shadow and a lingering doubt settled within the cage of his breast and rode with him the entirety of his long road north.  Even the reassuring camaraderie of the paladin Tanktimus and several other friends upon the road brought little comfort to the barbarian’s melancholies.  He had been away too long, he knew.  Though machinations beyond the control of mere men had swept him up in an adventure far from the route he had intended, the lost months were ones that should not have been spared.  Myzantia felt like an unintended dalliance that had cost him valuable time. 

 

Riding weary Myzanteen sand-steeds, the shaggy pony mounts proved ill-suited for life in harsher, cold regions of the world.  When sand had given way to worn roads and trails, the companions had known they were leaving the Bright East and entering the Middlelands.  At first the simple rural men of the middle territories had paid them increasing amounts of attention.  It was strange indeed to see dwarf, half-elf, and savage-armed and armored folk mounted and sojourning through the forest roads and over rolling hill and field.  As time wore on the traveling companions found the verdant greens and ochre fields of the human realms giving way to the rock and stony steppe of the northlands. 

 

Early snows rose to greet them in the Far, Grim North.  Returning to the wide and expansive lands of his adopted home should have buoyed his spirit, but the omnipresent smoke brought only anxiety that presented itself like a heavy burden atop the barbarian’s wide shoulders that even his considerable bulk was scarcely capable of bearing.  The farther they traveled, the more sure Rurik was that the smoke they followed would lead him home.

 

“Our barbarian has taken up an even grimmer outlook than usual,” Wolfenstein’s hushed tones directed to the gladiator Volki were carried over the biting wind.  Normally Rurik knew the wind as friend and would thank it for its whispers offered or the bracing tempest behind sails headed onward.  Now, after the shipwreck and so many arduous trials over the past year, his heart had hardened toward the elements which once he been as kindred.

 

“Can you blame him?  Though I’ve been gone from home these many years, I wouldn’t wish returning to smoke and ruin upon anyone,” Volki commented back.

Volki’s agreement was another of a thousand cuts that left his soul a scarred and angry thing.  All was as nothing compared to the smoke on the horizon.  Even the mountains Rurik had shared so many tales of, rising like gargantuan stone daggers and slowly spreading across the horizon as they grew closer, the northern mountains that housed many of the barbarian towns and villages in the north presented themselves as stoic monoliths.  Rurik’s mood briefly piqued upon their appearance, but that mood was crushed when the source of so much smoke was revealed.

 

Nestled against the mountains in a switchback vale against the leeward slopes, Haustvald was silent.  The barbarian town was scourged black, ancient stone buildings crumbled and many still smoldering from the fire’s caustic touch.  Many portions of the once formidable barricade lay in disrepair, collapsed, or entirely destroyed.  Even the stout keep of Chieftain Magnus Wolf-Gaze’s longhall was a ruin; the stout timber roof-beams were reduced to cinder and ash, collapsing in upon the hall and exposing the building to the ravages of the northern climate.  Despite the score of remaining fires running rampart over the settlement, snow had begun to pile where it would.  From that nearby hill, Rurik knew the Hellkite was managed to visit his revenge upon the barbarian for his sins, real and imagined both, committed in the Dwarven Deeps so many months before.  One way or another, the dire wyrmlord Vorghaaz had traced the barbarian's meandering journey from Gabilzaramul back to Haustvald and visited terrible retribution on the man’s adopted home.

 

“Gods,” Rurik breathed, his heavy breath mist on the cold air.  Shock enveloped his entire being at the scene painted before them.  Even the heavy fur-and-leather cloak he wore over his tunic wasn’t sufficient to forestall the shiver that followed.

 

Clenching his eyes closed, solemn desolation reigned over his spirit.  Snowflakes continued to tumble down around the companions; these mirrored a similar desolate winter deep within.  Sallying her mount up near his, his gladiator comrade Cora the Foxx thumped his shoulder.  Her attempt at comfort was lost on him; even the cold and falling snow had little impact through the wretched disappointment of seeing Haustvald reduced to ash, ruin, and rubble.  He turned and offered her a weak smile before returning to the desolation.  Even the smolder of his inner furnace burned low.  Little thought of revenge dwelt within him then, for they were but seven against the plague-fires of the Hellkite Tyrant and his armies.  What could so few against such reckless hate?

 

Profound grief drove him onward and forward.  The others remained at their hilltop, watching their friend list slowly toward Haustvald’s ruins.  When Wolfenstein and Volki moved to trail him, the justicar Tanktimus drove his mount before them.  Giving Rurik time and space to come to terms with the deluge of bad news and wretched revelation, he held up an armored hand to forestall any of the companions from following their barbarian brother as he wandered nearby the destroyed settlement that had once been his home.  When heads glanced at the paladin, a sad and world-weary shake of his head spoke leagues more than words.  In his days he had seen more death and destruction than any man should; sadly, this was not the first journey ending in crushing disappointment he had accompanied a friend upon. 

 

“Let him be, if only for a moment,” Tanktimus’ somber advice was laden with burden.  It was his eternal regret that he should watch another brother wander past a destroyed home for not the first time.  No man however vile, and despite his vices and moods Rurik surely was not, deserved a curse such as that.  He would gladly bare another’s burden with stoic fortitude if only to save the man even the briefest whisper of unmanageable grief.  He watched Rurik meander alongside the vanquished town.  The man’s bulky shoulders sagged.  Snow mattered the fur of his cloak and lent a surreal silence.

 

With a shrug of his shoulder, he directed his mount to slowly take him parallel to the barbarian village.  Despite the whirlwind of disappointment blowing through his mind, Rurik found he couldn’t face the idea of walking those familiar streets and seeing the wanton devastation of the village he had loved so dearly in years past.  Verily, seeing the holocaust up close and seeing such immeasurable ruin would only confirm the worst fears nesting in his heart where otherwise the last vestiges of hope might yet dwell were he a more optimistic soul.  It was too much.  Rurik allowed the sand-steed to wander where it would.  Leagues, one, two, or a handful were surrendered to his melancholic meander.  If it was time he needed to numb the pain, he would offer up years.  If it was distance, miles.

 

Eventually his path carried him along the monolithic northern mountains, a good distance from the smoldering village, and to the edge of the immemorial ancient forest which cover much of the western marches of the Far, Grim North.  It was a place the superstitious barbarian raiders avoided; dark magics practiced by sinister witches and fearsome beasts both dwelt within.  As such, the old growth spread uninhibited wherever it would.  He could smell the deep grove's musk on the cool mountain breeze; it spoke of mountain birch, amber crystals deep in mountain crags, and all the enigmatic magic of the forest-world.  Forgoing conscious thought and allowing his mount to lead, Rurik traced a trail only a short distance from the forest's edge with the slow, deliberate paces of his sand-steed.

 

Movement at the forest’s edge caught his attention.  It was only a brief flicker, but he was sure he had seen something.  Leaping from the saddle of his mount, Rurik raced over the uneven tundra, legs heaving and pumping.  Hills vanished to the barbarian’s sprint, always seeking that treeline.  His wild dash covered spans of ground and delivered him capably to the grove of sentinel birch trees, branches reaching out over his head like claws.  Halting a short march past the precipice, chest heaving and heart pounding, Rurik held his ground and turned keen ears toward the forest’s peculiar mists.  His fingers danced near the hilts of his weapons.  The forest was far from dark or suffocating, an eerie tranquility overcame his exhaustion as if the forest reached out to calm his soul and heal his briefly-distracted sorrow.

 

Forgetting the anguish at seeing his home in ruin and knowing everyone he had known who dwelt there, Magnus and Korlic and so many others surely all dead, Rurik sought the source of his immediate attentions.  Be it a survivor or one of the raiders who had aided the Hellkite, he would have a reckoning one way or another.  But all seemed still.  Nothing moved, no sound echoed between the timber beyond those of the creaking and groaning sentinels surrounding him.  A hush settled over the grove as he sought to still the hammering in the cage of his breast.  Sharp eyes searched and scanned; there was no agent of the dragon, any outcast Haustvald refugee or marauding goblin.  No sinister witches or fearsome beasts.  All was still...

 

He felt the jarring impact before the pain.  It took little more than a downward glance to see the long spear shaft twitching from his abdomen.  The weapon’s weight pulled him forward and down to a knee; intricate carvings traced along the hardwood lance, finely-wrought in their craft, with a grasp of ornate cerulean cloth and tuft of silver fur hanging just before the sharp steel head.   Amber-flecked eyes returned to the silent, haunting hollow before him; his amber met their match at the sapphire eyes of a figure rising from behind cover near a fallen tree.  Despite the distance, those eyes answered with unnatural azure glow.

 

Ethereal, tall and possessing an enigmatic grace, clad in formfitting tunic and leather trousers with a fur cloak matching the spear's tuft, a woman of unmatched beauty regarded him silently, a second spear prepared in one delicate hand and a wooden kite shield in the other.  More sharp javelins sprouted from her back as if they were more branches and she a tree.  Her hair was the same deep silver-white of the twinkling snow offering its seasonal embrace to the landscape’s autumn farewell.  Whatever beauty might grace her face in softer moments was marred by the barely masked conflict between the dread of having been pursued across field and stream and grove which had seen the projectile launched from her fingers at the first possible moment and a steadfast resolve fighting for control enough to press the hunt.  Seeing him stunned, wounded, and possibly dying before her appeared enough to halt her further assault.

 

Watching him, she cocked her head to the side. The woman’s determination seemed to fade when he reached for the shaft, cupping the long-hewn branch sprouting from his body.  Her eyes softened, an earlier countenance of barely restrained fright giving way to inquisitive regret and remorseful curiosity.  Now though, his prodigal strength waned, failed, and abandoned him.  Rurik collapsed from his knee, a choked gasp escaping his lips.  Even fallen his eyes remained locked on the winter woman; the last thoughts to grace a fading mind were of the falling flakes of snow, the cold northern ground below his collapsed body, and the unknowable beauty of the sapphire-eyed woman whose spear had brought him down.

 

Closing his eyes, the late-autumn snowfall was his pillow, and all was still.

  • Like 10

 [ Level ?? ]    Havoc, the Cyberpunk Outrider. 

BRUTALITY 13 | FINESSE 12 | GRIT 13  | INSIGHT 15 | MOXIE 13

Challenges1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

 

"Rangers have to at least give up on pants. It's a special rule we enacted after Rurik became a Guild Leader.” – DarK_RaideR.

"Did I just get my ass kicked by a member of Metallica meets History Channel's Vikings?" - Wolfpool.

"By the Well-Oiled-and-Meticulously-Groomed Beard of Rurik!" - Tanktimus the Encourager.

Link to post

Following. Your page is likely to explode soon, be sure to let us know when you update Chapter 1 so we know to go back and look at it.

Super looking forward to the further adventures of Rurik.

  • Like 5

Current Challenge Original 1,2,3, R 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24,25,26,27,28,29,30,31,32,33,34,35,36,37,38,39,40,41,42,43,44,45,46,47,48,49,50,51

52,53

"By the Most-Righteous-and-Blessed Beard of Sir Tanktimus the Encourager!" - Jarl Rurik Harrgath

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Most definitely here for this. Particularly looking forward to seeing what adventures and microadventures you get up to (and the story, of course!) :D

  • Like 2

"The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring."

 

 

Yeti on Flickr - Facebook - Instagram

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Getting in before thread-plosion. :)  I have no doubts that you'll smash your goals and continue kicking complete ass.  Plus, we can nag encourage each other to enjoy the great outdoors!

 

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  • Like 7

Level 30? who the hell knows anymore? Direwolf Assassin/Ranger - current challenge

 ACL rehab thread      2016 parkour

My tutorials:

handbalancing: crow, flying crow, side crow, crow->headstand->crow  Bo staff: strikes 1 2 3, spins 1 2

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There's my buddy ole pal!! Back into the flames we ride, on steeds made of fury and iron!

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Also, DP says he'll just get comfy and wait for the first story post..

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Wolfie & Deadpool

"Daddy needs to express some Rage."

  • Like 6

Wild Wolf- LEVEL 2 (but probably more like lvl 50 if I didn't respawn so much)

Class: Howler/ Height: 6'2 / Weight: 192#

Stats: MIGHT: 12 / CONSTITUTION: 9 / DEXTERITY: 11 / PERCEPTION: 10 / INTELLECT: 9 / RESOLVE: 13

Instagram: @ryanwolfbell / Facebook: Ryan Wolf Bell / Bible App (YouVersion) Ryan Wolf Bell

Current Challenge: Omnis Vir Lupus

Spoiler

Last Challenge(s): 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16

Unchained Predator Saga: 1

Epic Challenges: Welcome to the Fireteam & Wolfpool 

 

Know, O prince, that once the sun burns out and the earth's core becomes solid and cold, there will come a man to provide the endless energy needed to sustain life and for the planets to keep moving. He is the source of light and the warmth of hope back into the hearts of humanity...." - Dark_Raider

 

A wolf rises in my heart; against my darkness; against my demons; against my despair. I DECLARE WAR!

 

Romans 8:28 (CSB) We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.

 

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Here again of course.  Can't wait to see what you get up to this time ;)

  • Like 1

B'ker Level 1 Half-elf Ranger  STR: 3  DEX: 3  CON: 3  INT: 3  WIS: 2  CHA: 2

Bker Survives December Challenge Tracking Spreadsheet

Walking to Mordor (2019) Spreadsheet

 MyFitnessPal | FitBit | Instagram

Walking to Mordor 1879.44 miles/1779 miles

Mini Challenge:  Week 1:  | Week 2:  | Week 3 | Week 4 | Week 5 |

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I'm playing post roulette. When I hit post, will it be on page 1.......

 

EDIT: NAILED IT  :playful:

  • Like 8

Current: Assassins / Instagram

  Previous: 1, 234, 5, 678910, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44

2020 Races: 
CANCELLED! Spartan Trifecta: Beast: 18-APR / Super :11-JUL / Sprint: 12-JUL

Summer Nuts: 5/6-SEPT / Nuclear Blast: 12-SEPT / Nuclear team race: 04-OCT 

"You have the heart of a Rebel"

"I'll take that as a compliment"

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“Hither came Rurik Harrgath, wild-bearded and sullen-eyed, weapon in hand, a ranger, a reaver, a slayer,

with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the wild places of the earth under his booted feet...â€

ydbSh.jpg

 

Starting  weight baseline :  190 lbs.

Maximum pullups:  12 strict.  Next goal:  15.

Double-unders Combo:  24.

*             *             *

 

MASTER QUEST:   'OURS IS THE FURY'   (+1 STR, +1 DEX, +1 STA, +1 CON)

  • Goal:  Like its progenitor classes, the Barbarian Ranger derives from a discipline full of strength, agility, endurance, and combat skills.  The Barbarian Fury tracking meter shall return, and with it the expectation of weekly activities all contributing toward a healthy and capable lifestyle.

1.  Attend two Krav Maga classes over the course of this challenge. 

2.  Complete one Yoga session per week, plus additional Barbarian Ranger accessory work (double-unders, ring dips, muscle-ups, pull-ups).

  • Bonus Adventure:  Tackle a Darebee martial arts/weaponry workout!

 

SCOUTING AZEROTH  (+2 STA)

  • [*]
Goal:  The sun returns in the Far, Grim North

Genius, as always. Especially that Drogo Crossfit!

  • Like 2

                                        the year of living trippily

 The most current of all: Final Boss  Previous:    Adult Content

    Brain Weasels    Choose Your Own Adventure Woman of Mystery -   Worth i Simplicity     

Spoiler

 

                                     Take it Outside II

                                             Take it Outside

                                    Even More Current: 52 Days

                                    Currently Current: 100 Days

                               Current: Queen 2: Electric Boogaloo

                                            Queen of the Jungle

                              THE PEOPLE'S CHOICE CHALLENGE

                                      Apart six: Amazon  (part 5)

                                        (part 3: The Wickening)

                                               (part 2) (part 1)

 

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This month's hottest club is FURY. Rurik's back with a club that answers the question "HOW MANY SEVERED HEADS CAN FIT INTO A SADDLEBAG?!" It has everything, bearded musclemen, the entrails of the fallen, magic wielders in scanty clothing, snow, sword sharpening cantrips. To get in, just tear your shirt off and beat your chest.

  • Like 10

Raptron, alot assassin

67666564636261605958 575655545352515049484746454443424140393837363534333231302928272625242322212019181716151413121110987 | 6 | 5 | 4 | 3 | 2 | 1

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To get in, just tear your shirt off and beat your chest.

Does this also apply to girls?

  • Like 7

                                        the year of living trippily

 The most current of all: Final Boss  Previous:    Adult Content

    Brain Weasels    Choose Your Own Adventure Woman of Mystery -   Worth i Simplicity     

Spoiler

 

                                     Take it Outside II

                                             Take it Outside

                                    Even More Current: 52 Days

                                    Currently Current: 100 Days

                               Current: Queen 2: Electric Boogaloo

                                            Queen of the Jungle

                              THE PEOPLE'S CHOICE CHALLENGE

                                      Apart six: Amazon  (part 5)

                                        (part 3: The Wickening)

                                               (part 2) (part 1)

 

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