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Blood & Thunder: The Harrgath Chronicles


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

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

A paragon of primal fury, his wild rage harnessed and tempered through a far-strider’s wisdom and insight.

Keen senses, swift motion, and flawless strikes; to the barbarian ranger, these are the key to survival.

He channels the terrible majesty of his great ancestors and finds himself mightier with their ancient blessings upon him.”

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Starting weight baseline:  199 lbs.

CrossFit Skill spreadsheet:  CrossFit Metrics

U2ABegAWo0cAAAAASUVORK5CYII=

xfINIwXQYoxaAAAAABJRU5ErkJggg== NATURAL REMEDIESNutrition accountability measured through Health Points.  (+1/day).

pgXfWwc5osgAAAABJRU5ErkJggg== HEART OF THE WILD:  Experience meter focusing on two walks per week and other activity.  (+1/10% +XP).

cvCmj8X2pTx6XSrh1BAAAAAElFTkSuQmCC FAR-STRIDER’S INSTINCT:  Day-to-day inspiration & Big 3 tasks for the week.  (+3.3 per task complete/10).

A brief list of Heart of the Wild (XP) activities...

 

 

List of activities generating 10 XP:

·         Accessory work (bodyweight movements, flexibility, recovery, etc).

·         Primal movement and balancing.

·         Heavy Metal meditation.

Activities generating 20 XP:

·         Double-under practice.

·         Survival skills.

·         Co-op Missions.

Bonus Adventures generating 30 XP:

·         Microadventures.

·         Social activity.

·         Bi-weekly walkabout.

 

CHALLENGE INSPIRATION:  Of late it seems like I need all the help I can get.  With that in mind, I turn to the most powerful and majestic of my Ranger-tropes to summon the Barbarian Ranger once more.  This Warrior-Poet knows we can’t fight our nature; it’s as unrestrained and wild as the restless roaring river, but maybe we can subtly influence its course.  For ages, months and challenges gone by, I’ve tried to shoehorn activities and adventures into my routine to little enough success.  The master key then is small efforts to supplement my already formidable training routine, and as I'm spending the summer alone the focus shifts to making sure I am looking after myself and finding reasons to leave the house rather than shutting myself in like a proper hermit.

A change of avatar hearkens a reminder of my earliest fitness and creative inspiration in Madawc the barbarian ancient of Diablo II: Lord of Destruction.  In what should be a triumphant return for this Skald of yesteryear, we recognize the woodsy, earthen scents of cedar wood, birch bark, and smoldering tobacco around a roaring bonfire on the wild steppes, alongside an exotic melange of heady urban musk, notes of amber, bourbon vanilla, and roughly cured leather of a trading town or adventurer's waypoint, and the chaotic elixir of the battlefield, of blood and smoke and sulfur on the winds of war.

It just feels good to be home amongst so familiar a trope and I trust its inspiration to see me safely through another 4 Week Challenge!

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“I am Rurik Harrgath, of the blood of the Old World, and I will take what is mine with Blood & Thunder!”

  • Like 21

 [ Level ?? ] Thunderbro Maximus of the Thunderlords Legion

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 36

 

"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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3qTzZ.png  From the Battered, Leather-bound Adventurer’s Journal…

WEEK 0

The winds howled and raced over the barren steppes.

Tugging the cowl of his heavy bearskin and wool cloak over his broad shoulders, and mindful of the heavy pack he carried, a lone wanderer braced himself against the cold of the far, grim northern expanse.  He hadn’t seen a settlement in some days now; his meager supplies purchased at the last waypoint and sequestered deep within the expanses of his leather rucksack had been rationed beyond even the minimal required for survival.  The heavy war bow peaking over his shoulder ensured he never went hungry for too long at least.

The wanderer crested another ubiquitous hilltop and with the eyes of a far-strider spied smoke in the distance.  Thankful that the source of that smoke was the handful of chimneys rather than smoldering ruins left from a raid by the roving bands of marauders in the region, and knowing he was within a half-day’s march of the settlement if he hurried, the large man hitched his pack up again and began the determined stride of a man familiar with the rigors of ranging far and wide.  Civilization presented itself now and Rurik Harrgath was of a mind to take advantage of its numerous blessings before continuing on his journey south.

RESULTS:  (26 / 27 total points) = 96% Completion. 

Reward:  [Raekor's Heart] armor set.    78d83506530afda03709a7851deea164.png

WEEK I

Cold steppe-wind gave way to the sort of pounding rain that bruised skin and left a traveler soaked to their heart.

Though the wanderer scarcely felt the rain through his bearskin cloak and raw determination, he attempted to shield himself from some of the weather beneath the township’s hulking gate.  Upon taking to the well-groomed footpath leading to the gate, Rurik had spied dilapidated signage decreeing the location as Garen’s Gate.  He’d never heard of such a place, which was little surprise on the frontier where so many towns and villages dotted the larger travel routes to serve the needs of trading caravans and the recurring expeditions of the armies belonging to this warlord or that king.  It was an unyielding, unceasing sort of activity that many settlements attempted to cater to.

With cold fingers clenched into a fist Rurik struck his fist against the small guard-door built within the larger gate to summon the watchman.  Waiting on the guard, the wanderer absently considered that the hinges for the guard-door was much-rusted and well-worn; certainly the weak point in the gate’s overall strength.  It wouldn’t take much effort on the part of any besieging force to overtake the gate and thereby the city proper.  Rurik was stroking his beard thoughtfully and had turned to survey the darkened road leading westward, lit only by a handful of flicking oil lamps down the way when the watchman cracked a small iron peek-hatch and demanded to know his business.

“I seek shelter from the storm,” Rurik replied evenly, attempting to present himself as friendly.

The grizzled man snarled from behind the peek-hatch.  “And your business?” he repeated sternly.

“My business is my own,” the wanderer replied.  The two men stared each other down impassively for a moment.  Eventually the watchman scanned the distance behind the newcomer, noted his armor, weaponry, and his solitude but lack of threatening posture otherwise.  Rurik was invited to enter Garen’s Gate with otherwise feigned disinterest and told to be on his way to any tavern offering vacancy and to keep out of trouble.  When inquiring which boarding house the watchman might recommend, Rurik found the man had already retreated to the relative comfort of the guard shack and found himself alone in the street.  Short order saw him through the muck and mire of what must have passed for the town’s main street; signs hanging from posts declared one building the blacksmith, another the leatherworker, on and on it went until the image of a frothing tankard of what Rurik hopped was ale seemed to proclaim the location of the nearest tavern.

Grasping the latch and leaning into the ramshackle door, Rurik shouldered his way into the candlelit haze of the Leaky Tankard Tavern.  Several regulars regarded him with intense scrutiny from behind their mugs or pipes as he trudged to an empty booth in the more brightly lit quarter of the boarding house.  When the innkeeper hobbled over to the newcomer, the man shot a snaggletoothed glare at the regulars whose glowering expressions quickly evaporated to the same disinterest of the watchman in his shack out in the rain when they feared their actions might broker the innkeep’s displeasure and thereby cut off their access to the evening’s ale.

“Can I be of any service this fine evening, master…?”

“Harrgath,” the wanderer offered and nothing further.  “I’ll take a glass of your finest amber and a room for the evening besides.”

Through his muttonchop moustache the innkeeper smiled warmly, though Rurik knew the man was surveying the newcomer intensely.  This was a man who knew his stock in trade and realized much of his livelihood depended on a gregarious countenance with a keen mind toward servitude to match.  All the same, the innkeeper likely hedged his bets and knew the value of any information to the right source.  “Of course, Master Harrgath.  We have several beds available above…”

“A room,” Rurik remarked poignantly, producing a single silver coin and three coppers from beneath a gloved hand.  “And a bowl of whatever’s warm to go with the ale.”

Nodding more to himself than the newcomer, the innkeeper scurried away to be about his business.  Content to be out of the weather and more or less secure from prying eyes within the privacy of his booth, Rurik leaned his bow against the wall and his axe beside it.  Tugging off heavy gloves and carefully pairing them together on the battered tabletop, the wanderer removed a slender wooden box that, judging from its well-worn veneer, had seen a great deal more than occasional handling, and a small leather pouch along with it.  From the box he retrieved a long-stemmed tobacco pipe and from the pouch a pinch of weed-leaf.  Even in the open air confines of the booth Rurik could detect the pungent aroma of his favorite pipe-weed; despite himself the wanderer cracked a small smile that was all but entirely hidden through the bulk of his burly beard.

Rurik was intent on the first charring light of his smoke when the innkeeper arrived full of friendly charm with a brimming tankard of frothy brown ale and a trencher full of the evening’s stew.  “Enjoy the meal, Master Harrgath.  My lady wife is preparing your room.  She’ll have it ready for ye before you’ve finished with the stew,” the innkeeper offered the newcomer a wink.  “I took the liberty of adding an extra helping of meat to the trencher.  I’m sure ye won’t mind.”

Reaching for another copper to tip the man, the innkeeper waved off Rurik’s gesture before hobbling away and returning to his duties for the other patrons of the Leaky Tankard.  Now that the aroma of his meal touched the wanderer’s nostrils, the pipe was forgotten, laid by the wayside on the table, he eagerly dug into the trencher full of stew.  Rurik shoveled great heaping mouthfuls of carrot, potato, turnip, and servings of game meat he suspected was venison rather than beef, before mopping up the remaining gravy with chunks of grainy bread torn from the trencher.  His meal vanishing before a prodigal appetite, the only reply to a satisfied belly was equal treatment for his thirst.  A quaff of the innkeeper’s amber ale followed the remnants of the evening bread and stew, leaving a hearty flavor of malt and roasted chestnuts on the wanderer’s tongue.

He enjoyed another swig and then another, before long realizing the contents drained with alarming swiftness.  Finishing off the beverage he gathered his gear, stopped by the innkeeper’s station for a refill of the ale, and climbed the stairs to his boarding room.  At the top of the stairs he bumped into a woman of middling years he believed to be the innkeeper’s wife for she scurried off to other duties in much the same way as the proprietor had.  He paused at a door to ensure he had found the correct lodging.  While fumbling for the key through hands burdened with gear, Rurik juggled his bow stave from on hand to the other and paid no mind as he keyed the door.  Before stepping in, a flashing of silver caught the corner of his eye; he was rewarded only with a glimpse of a departing female form as another tenant slipped into her quarters down the hall.  What little he had seen though was of a shapely form in leather armor, a lightly mischievous smile on soft lips and eyes the color of the mountain lakes in his homeland.

Shaking the mirth from his ale-addled head with an inaudible chuckle, the wanderer dropped his pack and belongings on the boarding room’s lone chair.  His bearskin cloak was folded and joined the rest.  Bow and quiver of grey-fletched arrows in the corner by his bed and his axe laid beside, Rurik sat on the small pallet and noted it was stuffed with the down of fowl rather than straw; his proprietors were better off than he would have thought it seemed.  As he stifled a yawn and drained the last of his second mug of ale, the lingering thought on his mind was of crystal blue eyes and a crown of hair the color of silver-gold.

RESULTS:

Reward:  (? / 27 total points) = % Completion.  90%+ or better yields [Grimnir's Sacred Charge] war axe.  unique_mighty_2h_101_x1_demonhunter_male

 

WEEK II

Feeling more right and truly well rested than he could ever remember, Rurik gathered his belongings and equipment before taking to the stairs which descended to the tavern proper.  He cast a discerning eye toward the closed door where he had caught so tantalizing a glimpse of the woman whose image had kept his dreams company through the night.  It was with only disappointment that she did not deign to materialize before his selfish wishes at that very moment; hers was a vision which seemed to claw at both his waking and sleeping memory for some months now, hardly more than a hazy visage, a shimmering shape at the edge of his vision, coming on the heels of a most dire brush with death, but Rurik would swear on an oathstone that the woman he had seen the night before was one in the same as the enigma haunting his memory.

With a final glance down the vacant hallway, Rurik trudged down the old wooden stairs and through the tavern itself.  The old innkeeper greeted the barbarian warmly, the man’s smile plucking his mustachioed face from the grim task of the night prior’s many filthy dishes.  Rurik’s inner cynic dismissed that reaction as one summoned by his over generosity of coin after a taste of the Leaky Tankard’s prized amber ale, but an equally commanding but quieter inner voice commanded the wanderer to return the warm gesture and be on his way.  With a fond salute and determined readjustment to his heavy pack, he swept from the dim confines of the tavern and departed with a flourish of his bearskin cloak.

Stomping down streets muddied from the evening-hour’s rainfall and early-morn foot traffic, stoic determination drove the barbarian toward the sleepy town’s exit and the resuming of his expedition along the frontier.  A heavy mind drove him on, grim melancholies and feral mirth carrying him forward in much the way it always did, a great far-wanderer of the far north country.  Still visions of silver-gold and eyes the like of mountain lakes flickered in his distracted mind.  He at last ran into the enigmatic source of his consternation in the courtyard near the gates which lay open to the traveler’s road beyond Garen’s Gate proper.

Though she was revealed to him like the drawing of a secret curtain, Rurik nonetheless found himself plagued with more questions than answers and yet none of the inspiration to deliver thought to words.  Her leather-and-mail armor clung to her body as if it had been tailored to her form by a master armorer with infinite patience.  A quiver of javelins peered over her shoulder and was framed in turn by locks of silver-gold.  A crude bronze circlet graced her head and lended a martial air but only served to highlight her other-worldly features further.  True, her beauty was startling to behold, for indeed hers was an ancient, timeless splendor, but none seemed as enraptured by her appearance as he.  No others halted in the streets to stare, transfixed as if by a sorcerer’s spell.  His feet slowed and he stared at her entranced, recalling earlier visions but gawking with the awkwardness of a schoolboy.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He grunted.  “Like what?”  Her voice was melodic and singsong yet carrying a pragmatic lilt which spoke of a no-nonsense attitude toward the world.  It seemed to match the vision he carried within, all the more concerning to the barbarian who more and more was coming to the conclusion that he somehow knew this woman but could not command the memory to fully surface and reveal its intricate detail before him.

“Like you’ve seen a ghost,” she rejoined, a shadow and haze drawing over her guarded but beautiful face.  At once her eyes were lidless and knowing, reaching through his own and deep into the bowels of his soul, leaving him stunned.  He felt naked before her, an open book, unable to keep neither the mundane nor most secret of his desires hidden. 

The barbarian closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.  He spoke as if walking through the dream realm, his words half-whispered like half-oaths.  “Because every time I look at you it feels like I have.”

She narrowed her eyes at the stranger.  “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Rurik sighed.  He was shocked by his own apparent willingness to share an otherwise guarded secret.  “But for some reason I can recall everything about you with crystal clarity as if I’ve plucked you from a dream.”

She blushed at the wanderer’s candid remarks, but swept aside her embarrassment away with a smile.  “Perhaps you should tell me of this dream then.”

Rurik bristled like cornered beast and squared his shoulders.  In a moment it seemed he had retreated behind stone fortifications of his own crafting.  He hefted his war axe by its oak shaft and rested the heavy blade on an armored pauldron, dipped his head in farewell, and marched away with all of the distraction of a man possessed of deeper musings, leaving the woman to wonder what had driven her to pry into a stranger’s innermost motivations.  Watching the armored bulk of his retreating form, her lips twisted in regret, an unspoken apology for hasty words written across an ancient face.

 

Confident that he was out of earshot, the wanderer grumbled to himself.  “It cannot be,” his words barely above an animalistic growl.  Why does this stranger haunt my thoughts so? he wondered quietly to the world at large.  The wind brushed his wild hair but offered no deep-minded wisdom in its touch.  No divine rumbling shook the yawning earth, directing his path this way or that.  In the sky above no bird of prey offered the omen-answer of its cry echoing through the vastness of the horizon.  No revelation revealed itself as he marched down the filthy streets save the absent-minded chortle of a blind crippled ancient along the concourse.  The old man watched Rurik stroll by, pointing at the wanderer and muttering to himself.  An expression equal parts quizzical and irritated marred the barbarian’s features, but the old man was nigh forgotten as the town gate dawned in front of him.  In his distraction Rurik failed to observe the party of men approaching to intercept and block his path.

“Hold there, barbarian!”

The voice cracked like a drover’s whip, thick with jumped-up authority of a man who imagined himself superior to his fellow man and used to the cowering of those he deemed his lessers.  This man could be no less than the captain of the Garen’s Gate guard, personal envoy of the baron himself.  Against his better judgement, Rurik took a final step and halted, shifting the weight of his axe in his irritation.  He raised an errant eyebrow at the guardsman and his entourage but offered no greeting.

Pompous and boisterous, the captain sauntered over and puffed out his chest though the crown of his half-helm was still some inches below Rurik’s bearded chin.  “I am Captain Johan.  My master the Baron Neville of Garen’s Gate has tasked me with recruiting all able-bodied men into the armed guard of this town to guard against further incursions from marauders.”

If Rurik could have raised his eyebrow further, he would have.  “Marauders?”

“You haven’t heard?  Our fair town has been subjected to the vilest and debaucherously terrible of assaults and rapes by a posse of bandits for some moons now,” Johan explained.  “They are led by some manner of monster, striking always in the twilight hours so we cannot rightfully see the faces of these villains.”

“That explains the sad state of the fortifications,” Rurik muttered to himself.

“You will accompany my men and I to the palace where you will be presented to the Baron and deputized into the town guard corps,” Johan continued his monologue, a speech he had likely rehearsed many times before judging by the glazed-over expressions of the cadre supporting him.

The barbarian shifted his axe so that the haft settled into the muddy ground and allowed him to lean his prodigal bulk upon its wide head.  If his sour expression and all-but-openly hostile expression weren’t enough, Rurik rolled one of his broad shoulders so the joint cracked loudly, giving the impression that he was all too prepared for violence should it become a necessity.  Johan’s hand found its way to his sheathed sword and his men were similarly bristling with weaponry.

“That won’t be necessary, Captain Johan,” a similarly haughty voice interrupted the fray.  Resplendent in silken finery and jeweled baubles, Baron Neville was every bit the preening dandy.  Short and plump where Rurik was tall and powerful, the diminutive noble was almost a foil to the barbarian.  His beard was black, thin, and well-manicured.  He smelled of lavender which only just overpowered the stench of civilization.  Two men could not have been more opposite had they set out to try from the very outset.  “I’m sure this wandering savage needs only the proper motivation to support our cause and defend this city.”

“City?” Rurik huffed, his voice gravelly and irascible.

Baron Neville’s smile widened, coordinated with the sweeping gesture of his open hand; and within his palm, gemstones and gold coins.  “Of course.  Garen’s Gate, my barbaric fellow.  Will you lend your axe to the defence?”

Before he could stop himself, Rurik found his fist clenched tightly around myriad gems and gold.  Pleased though he was at having found a quest the likes of which he hadn’t expected in a sleepy frontier town, even the weight of precious stones and several months’ wealth wasn’t enough to stifle an eerie feeling it the pit of his stomach.

RESULTS

 

Reward:  (? / 27 total points) = % Completion.  90%+ or better yields

 

WEEK III

 

RESULTS

Reward:  (? / 27 total points) = % Completion.  90%+ or better yields

WEEK IV

 

RESULTS

Reward:  (? / 27 total points) = % Completion.  90%+ or better yields a simple amulet...

 

  • Like 4

 [ Level ?? ] Thunderbro Maximus of the Thunderlords Legion

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 36

 

"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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It smells of bacon, pumpkin and man in this place-I must of found our dear friend, Master Harrgath ;)

 

The new God of War looks awesome, yeah? Kratos looks good with a beard.

 

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Wolf

  • Like 3

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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Does.... does that giant have a shield made out of molten rock....?

 

...

 

LIKE THAT'D STOP YOU?!!?!?!?!

 

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  • Like 2

i am not waiting for a hero.  i saved myself long ago.

Level 50 Bardic Time-Mage; of the Furious Heart

STR.55  DEX.43 STA.48 CON.51 WIS.53 CHA.65

"Well...in the end, it boils down to two simple choices. Either you do or you don't.

You'd think with all the problems in this world, there'd be more answers. It's not fair...
...But that's the way things are. The choice is yours."

» visit me @ my BATTLE LOG~

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As always, you really know how to turn a phrase. Here for the strategic channeling of raw awesome.

  • Like 2

Level 13 Shape-shifting Warrior Monk

STR:45 | DEX:18 | STA:10 | CON:37 | WIS:37 | CHA:27

The stronger the body the more it obeys, the weaker the body the more it commands. -- Siegmund Klein

Battle Log : MFP : Instagram : Challenges - 1, 23456789101112

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1 hour ago, WorldSparrow said:

*gives a Norse battle cry*

 

28 minutes ago, shaarawy said:

Does.... does that giant have a shield made out of molten rock....?

...

LIKE THAT'D STOP YOU?!!?!?!?!

 

#MomoaMonday

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UyqKWROjrq4

 

1 hour ago, Wild Wolf said:

The new God of War looks awesome, yeah? Kratos looks good with a beard.

 

Almost makes me miss my head shaving days!

 

13408781_257694974594268_768454378_n.jpg

 

1 hour ago, Mizbrek said:

Ahh love the flavour here! And the WoW and Diablo themes too! Will be following along!

 

You'll see much of that and more, my friend.  Glad to have you along!

 

4 minutes ago, Urgan said:

As always, you really know how to turn a phrase. Here for the strategic channeling of raw awesome.

 

Thank you!  Looking forward to better following along with your challenge this go around.

 

12 minutes ago, Shadri said:

*battle cry intensifies*

 

Following of course, my old friend! Let's kick some ass this challenge!!

 

I love Week Zero enthusiasm!  Glad to have you along, Shadri!

 

1 minute ago, DarK_RaideR said:

Checking on this thread feels like

 

And it's still early.

  • Like 5

 [ Level ?? ] Thunderbro Maximus of the Thunderlords Legion

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 36

 

"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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3 minutes ago, Rurik Harrgath said:

Thank you!  Looking forward to better following along with your challenge this go around.

 

Bad news: I'm not doing a challenge this month!

Good news: I've got a kickin' battle log going and you might not be able to tell much difference between it a challenge, anyhow, so you should feel right at home~

  • Like 2

Level 13 Shape-shifting Warrior Monk

STR:45 | DEX:18 | STA:10 | CON:37 | WIS:37 | CHA:27

The stronger the body the more it obeys, the weaker the body the more it commands. -- Siegmund Klein

Battle Log : MFP : Instagram : Challenges - 1, 23456789101112

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7 minutes ago, Urgan said:

Bad news: I'm not doing a challenge this month!

Good news: I've got a kickin' battle log going and you might not be able to tell much difference between it a challenge, anyhow, so you should feel right at home~

 

Off I go!

 

C-mp2s.gif

  • Like 3

 [ Level ?? ] Thunderbro Maximus of the Thunderlords Legion

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 36

 

"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

Love the challenge intro; following again!

  • Like 1

Level 15 Wood Elf Ranger

IAgreeWithTank™

"Shit is going down, but I am not." - iatetheyeti

Don't say "I don't have enough time", say instead "that's not a priority right now" and see how that makes you feel.

Forum Posts: Current Challenge - The 80/20 Rule2021 Road Map - Make a House a Home

External: Epic Quest - Instagram - Strava

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Thank you for all of the follows, folks!

 

2 hours ago, mr_willes said:

Here to rock the shiss out of this challenge!!!

 

DeadpoolFantasyHR.jpg

 

Holy shit, that is seriously cool as hell.

 

46 minutes ago, skinNbones said:

Hey Rurik, I'll be following your challenge again - even though I know won't then have any time for anything else all month.

 

Oh, you'll figure something out.  Just make it one of your Life Goals!  :P

 

4 minutes ago, Terra said:

Following the Ranger Barbarian for the fierce energies

 

You can always count on me for that... that, and #MomoaMondays!  ;)

  • Like 1

 [ Level ?? ] Thunderbro Maximus of the Thunderlords Legion

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 36

 

"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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Added my brief flavor text/journal entry to get Week Zero started.  Won't be going too in depth in the narrative department but this way I satisfy creative impulses without placing too arduous an expectation upon myself.  ;)

 

8 hours ago, Rurik Harrgath said:

3qTzZ.png  From the Battered, Leather-bound Adventurer’s Journal…

WEEK 0

The winds howled and raced over the barren steppes.

Tugging the cowl of his heavy bearskin and wool cloak over his broad shoulders, and mindful of the heavy pack he carried, a lone wanderer braced himself against the cold of the far, grim northern expanse.  He hadn’t seen a settlement in some days now; his meager supplies purchased at the last waypoint and sequestered deep within the expanses of his leather rucksack had been rationed beyond even the minimal required for survival.  The heavy war bow peaking over his shoulder ensured he never went hungry for too long at least.

The wanderer crested another ubiquitous hilltop and with the eyes of a far-strider spied smoke in the distance.  Thankful that the source of that smoke was the handful of chimneys rather than smoldering ruins left from a raid by the roving bands of marauders in the region, and knowing he was within a half-day’s march of the settlement if he hurried, the large man hitched his pack up again and began the determined stride of a man familiar with the rigors of ranging far and wide.  Civilization presented itself now and Rurik Harrgath was of a mind to take advantage of its numerous blessings before continuing on his journey south.

RESULTS:

Pending.

 

HytWODTO0m6XAAAAAElFTkSuQmCCHarrgath... the Man, the Myth, the Legend.

Health Bar:  [====================(100%)

Experience:  [====================(0%)  

Adventurer’s Journal:  Day 1.

Let’s get the party started, shall we?

NATURAL REMEDIESNutrition on point for today.

HEART OF THE WILD:  Nothing to report.

FAR-STRIDER’S INSTINCT: 

  • Call plumber.

  • Wash dishes.

  • Mow the lawn at the rental property.

  • Like 9

 [ Level ?? ] Thunderbro Maximus of the Thunderlords Legion

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 36

 

"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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