o c h r e • D.O.D.I. • 
"Yo, Orchidée!"
Ochre évita son regard de l'actuel cadavre d'un orque qu'il avait dépouillé, sculptant le couteau de sa main dominante tandis qu'il se levait lentement du cadavre à moitié profané. Le liquide écarlate a peint l'avant de son armure de bronze, diluant la moitié inférieure en particulier comme s'il y avait été ouate. Son regard blanc de charbon visible à partir de la fente en forme de T dans son casque verrouillé avec le propre du brochet, un hochement mesuré sa seule réponse à l'appel de Graves. Le nom lui était très familier, ayant été appelé comme tel à chaque fois que lui et le soldat en sang se rencontraient pour une course de donjon. Ce n'était pas la pire chose qu'il ait été appelé, pour le moins, puisque l'homme le nommait essentiellement après une flore variée.
Rassembler des matériaux de l'orc du donjon était... viscéral, pour le moins. Non pas qu'il ne pouvait pas l'être, car il se résume inévitablement à "soulager" un cadavre de ses extrémités naturelles, mais aujourd'hui l'acte lui-même semblait... troublantement authentique pour une raison apparente. Il ne pouvait pas diviner la raison de ses propres muses, sauf peut-être des théories sur la cause de celle-ci. Le même catalyseur qui avait accru l'intelligence des orques qu'ils combattaient, peut-être? Une mise à jour dont l'ensemble du parti, étrange comme il serait en considérant combien "dans le savoir" il y avait de membres, était odieuse de? Une fois de plus, il n'avait que des théories, mais elles étaient tout ce qui avait du sens pour lui à ce moment-ci.
"couverte. Tu penses que tu peux gérer ça, mon garçon aux fleurs?" Le blindage de sa stupeur provoquée par la pensée, l'armurier clignote ses yeux demi-lissés avant de donner à l'homme un autre clin d'œil lent. Honnêtement, Ochre n'avait aucune idée de ce qu'une fois parmi les joueurs les plus vocaux venait de dire, ayant manqué la plupart de ce qu'il a dit alors qu'il réfléchissait aux événements étranges dans le jeu qu'ils jouaient. Cependant, il était sûr que la tâche qui lui avait été confiée n'aurait pas pu être trop difficile, ni tout ce qui se rapportait à un exploit nécessaire en dehors des limites d'un donjon. Le pire, c'est qu'il pouvait aller avec le courant jusqu'à ce que quelqu'un l'appelle. Moins d'énergie dépensée que de demander, de toute façon.
Avec un bref regard sur le cadavre ruiné à côté de lui, le jeune homme a déduit qu'il avait déjà assez de matériaux de l'orc pour expérimenter, et a procédé à rouler le corps sur pour couvrir le désordre qu'il avait fait sur la poitrine et la bouche de la créature. Bien sûr, il ne couvrait pas la réserve de sang qui s'était accumulée sous le corps, ainsi que les trois autres carcasses dans des états visuellement pires, mais le petit acte devrait faire face au pire de l'estomac qui s'était récemment installé en lui.
M A X W E L L /// O C H R E

“Not everything needs to happen all at once. Some things just need a little time.”
 O V E R V I E W 
N A M EMaxwell Castillo
A V A T A ROchre
A G E22
G E N D E RMale
V I S A G EOchre can be identified as a lean, Caucasian male, who stands at a relatively average height of 166cm, displaying intriguing jade eyes and raven-black hair. While usually seen in light, leather cloth that boasts a bronze pauldron on the left shoulder, it would not be surprising to see him wrapped within a cloak, equiped with chainmail under scale armor, or donning full platemail while out in the field. His entire figure, despite his current state of movement, seems to be in perpetually sedated position, as if the state of affairs in the immediate world around him are merely just another second in time. 
P E R S O N A L I T Y Ochre is slow.
That is not an insult to his intelligence, despite the popular belief that he is mentally impaired as well. No, the description is used to describe him as a person. Everything he does, despite its true speed, seems downplayed in comparison to the actions of others. If a line of people moved at an equal pace, with the same tempo and in a perfectly straight line, the drill sergeant composing the practice would shout at him to pick up his pace. It is an almost instinctual reaction to his presence, to the lethargic air that seems to encompass his sphere of influence. Even in combat, as he moves throughout the field, setting traps on the fly and slicing at foes as quickly as any fighter, his allies have frequently noted that the man works less than the rest of them. It befuddles everyone around him, even those who are knowledgeable of his passionate side, of the man who would go far and beyond the call of duty to get a job done. If it wasn't for his similarly fervent attachment to the bonds between others, a close friend would think him more suited for Draethir than Sikth
This unhurried nature spreads to his mannerisms as well, having no sense of the word "Quickness" in his consistency of arriving late to every sort of function or meeting. Any person who knows of him understand to give him the time of a meeting up to thirty minutes earlier than the designated, as to make sure he shows up on time. Something to note about him is his patience, and while it may strengthen the idea of his unnatural sluggishness, it is probably one of the main reasons for his success in Pariah. Minutes, Hours, and once, even Days, he is capable of waiting out the perfect circumstance, springing a trap when the most optimal situation may appear. During special occasions, however, one would be amazed at the speed of his momentum, taking him from point A to point B in record time for the sake of his companions. But, as fitting of a Sikth, this sort of behavior is seen rarely, to the point where his closest friends may comment that "a blue moon is more common than seeing Ochre move quickly".
Any who are capable of seeing past such idiosyncrasies would find a young man capable of extraordinary compassion, taking to heart any sort of problems a person may have and seeking to make it right, even complete strangers. Anger is not a word in his vocabulary, accompanying "Haste" in the mental garbage bin, though irritation is very likely to be present within a situation that isn't solved within the first few tries. Most of the time, however, he is usually laid back in his way of speaking, not usually taking offense to many things. Any mistakes or issues with his own person are corrected almost immediately, though retaining his amendments may take a few weeks. The only exception to this is his own skills, and a one track mind is set on developing the strongest set of armor in Pariah. While he is still far from reaching that goal, he gains another step closer everyday.

B A C K G R O U N D Honestly, there's not much to say about his life. He lives in a modest apartment, graduated with a college degree in the past year, and even more recently found an internship as a business associate. His only sibling, his sister, is going through her freshman year in a university, sending him postcards from her little corner of the world. His parents, happy for his accomplishments, drive to see him every month to catch up, enjoy each others company, and generally live life in a joyous manner.
However, a few months ago, his sibling sent him a package instead of an envelope. Curious, he opened the container to find a copy of the latest hit "game", Pariah, and the regular postcard he usually received. Apparently, his parents and his sister had pooled money together in order to give him a congratulatory gift for his currently progressing life. Having forgotten to buy one for him on the day itself, it was agreed to procure a present more opulent than they otherwise would have. Touched by the gesture, he started up the program only minutes after receiving it.
He remembered to thank them for the gift a week later with a surprise visit to his sibling, and a big hug to his parents when they came for their routine visit to his home.

 A T T R I B U T E S 
R O L ESupport/ Tank
A F F I L A T I O NSikth
E L E M E N T A L D O M A I NEarth
A R C A N E D O M A I NSpell Trapping
P R O F E S S I O NArmor Merchant
W E A P O N O F C H O I C EGriffzungenschwert, though the use of a Hammer cannot be unfounded
R O U G H V I R T U A L H I S T O R YA peculiarity within the secretive Sikth, the name "Ochre" would have most people outside of the pathos scratching their heads. Who is that? Isn't that the name of a color? Inside, however, many know of the Blacksmith like one would a childhood friend. A numerous amount of those who know his name have some sort of equipment on their person created by the man, each of them vouching for his efficiency and the longevity of his works. A helmet here, an arm guard there, some have entire sets of armor that they could certify were molded by his hands. Although, many who browse his wares wonder how he procures materials for the durable pieces he makes, and are usually surprised by the answer.
He obtains them, himself.
Supporting large raiding parties, accompanying travelers, and sometimes on his own, each and every one of his creations were made with his tireless labor, both with the anvil and with the sword. Many may call him a fanatic, others a man to stick along side. Those who truly know him, and understand his rather unsightly habits... Don't want to deal with his perpetual down tempo.