an 18+ fantasy sandbox rpg
Switch Account

Personal Photo

No Photo

Custom Title
Gerwulf Brandt doesn't have a custom title currently.
Personal Info
Location: No Information
Born: No Information
Website: No Information
No Information
Other Information
MP3: No Information
Quote: No Information
Age: 24
Species/Custom Member Title: Were-wolf
GIF: No Information
Gif Alignment:
Application: No Information
Plotter: No Information
Tracker: No Information
Gender/Pronouns: No Information
Sexuality: No Information
Relationship Status: No Information
Birthplace: No Information
Alias: No Information
Joined: 23-November 14
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Oct 18 2016, 08:27 PM
Local Time: Jul 16 2018, 10:42 PM
97 posts (0.1 per day)
( 1.72% of total forum posts )
Contact Information
AIM No Information
Yahoo No Information
GTalk No Information
MSN No Information
SKYPE No Information
Message: Click here
Email: Private
View Signature

Gerwulf Brandt


My Content
Jun 15 2016, 12:05 AM
So it was another sunny day along the strip, lights still flashing in as bright a color as the flaming orb in the sky would allow. People were out and about but it would just get better after dark, that was when the good mixed with the bad and all hell usually broke loose after a half dozen bottles of tequila. Though this could be a skewed view of Las Vegas from Gerwulf's point of view, however it was the best observation he could make while living the life, with whatever ill gotten gains he had acquired this time around. Mirrored aviators reflecting the beams along the street as he glanced around from his jet black camero, the wheels rolling to a standstill as he parked nearby one of this cities finest establishments.

Stepping out of the car, he made sure that it was locked before heading onward, passing early bird gentlemens clubs and lookalikes gawking away at the tourists. His red tank top sitting tight against his body as the heat seemed to boil water from his skin, jeans and heavy boots beneath. All put together with a leather jacket that he had thrown over his shoulder, as it would have drawn a lot more attention than his muscles in all honesty with him wearing it. A signature bulge at his lower back spoke that he was carrying and lastly a large bowie knifes strapped to his right boot.

He loved this country in all it's inane glories, given that most states didn't care if he had a weapon on him and used it to defend himself. Especially these second amendment rights lobbyists that make his life a whole lot easier. Licking his lips and letting his hand slide across his own jaw as he winked to some people he passed who had taken an interest in his being. Gerwulf didn't have a real destination in mind, he was just sniffing out the competition and whatever else could be riling up a storm in this delightfully sinful place.
Jan 14 2015, 11:01 PM
Gerwulf was volunteering at a facility that was both privately and government funded, out in the countryside of Nebraska and considered an undisclosed military base. Though it was actually private ground and the facility trained military from all over as well as those within the police forces. Getting in was, however, hard, as you either needed to know someone or you may never have even heard rumors of it. Back in the day, he was one of the people whom had helped build it up, at first it was just an underground complex that was outside of anyone's knowledge. But as the years went on, it changed and slowly became more legitimate. Nowadays, it was secretly training black op teams and special agents, or if you had the money, privateers and those with enough pull to get set up in the location.

There was, of course, a darker side to those that trained there, however, he never judged and every training bay was compartmentalized, so you may never know who was training behind the next secured doors. Gerwulf was sitting at the entrance, he got the special orders and was awaiting his trainee. Smirking to himself, he had a name for himself in this field, but he didn't want to put other mercs off. So he sat there, basically in a large man trap, sealed door behind him and a single door in front. The individual or individuals would be escorted with blacked out helmets to the air lock entrance, before they are told they can remove them. Then, told that if they wish to continue to training that they would be required to open the door and enter.

Afterward, all he required was them to sign a waiver on the table next to him, between the four chairs in the room and they would be set. They would be allowed to leave at any time, though their chances of returning would lessen with how fast they give up. They were also allowed to bring anything they wished, though they would also be warned from bringing contraband and anything that would be confiscated from a normal military. That was, if they came from normal channels, the others, they would be told to behave or be punished, as it was the trainers way or the way out.

Gerwulf hoped he had a fun group or something, being a hard ass wasn't really his shtick and yet, people were intimidated by him and his near suicidal orders. This was a training ground, not a resort to spend ones days in the sun. Darkness, walled and tunnels that made you feel claustrophobic, concrete and armored kill houses that were riddled by bullets and scorched by fire. Where every day was another attempt at what could possibly kill you, all by accident, of course. Wearing combats, a tank top and a loosely buttoned military-esque shirt, Gerwulf sat, brushing his hand through his hair and waited for his recruit or recruits, not having been given much on information.
Dec 13 2014, 11:01 PM
Times were tough, it was barely 1347 in the year of our lord, though it wasn't Gerwulf's lord or belief, however, he didn't want to face a guillotine or something for not believing what everyone else believed in. Though he was spared that by working in unison with the English armies as a Mercenary captain skirmisher, yes, his tactics were something out of fantasy. No one believed he had it in him to do what he did, but riddled with arrows, covered in pitch, he still manages to wipe out small groups by himself. Opening a few castle gates with only a handful of men, however this wasn't that time, this was his wait time before his next sortie.

His troops and the armies had struck a decisive blow, one in the many years that he hopefully would fall as it meant more blood and war for him. Not that he would suggest this, given that every so often, he would feel bored playing for the side with the most cavalry or the new advent of explosively loud weaponry. Either was free to do what he willed for a while and so he went on one of his famous walkabouts, disappearing and leaving his second in charge as he vanished into the woods to be with the wilderness. So far, so good, given that he wandered into the woodlands of England with not but a bow and an axe at his side, everything else, he would earn from mother nature.

However, the reason he was here in the woods, was a strange myth that spoke of an almost legendary creature that had been seen more often nowadays. A Doe that grew vicious antlers, yet he had never heard it before, though he was wandering the continent for last few hundred years. With this goal in mind, Gerwulf, in his leathers and barbaric look about him, wandered into the woods, deeper and deeper, until he found the scent of Deer. Believing that sooner or later, he'd find them or be having venison for dinner.
Last Visitors

Oct 17 2016, 07:28 AM

Jun 15 2016, 05:56 PM

Mar 23 2015, 09:17 PM

No comments posted.
Add Comment


Please provide a link to the thread and the user/character tagged.
You may bump a thread once every five days.

Listed At
RPG-D Distant Fantasies
Edolon:A Tournament of Shadows www.AbaddonCity.com 18+
skinned by josh dun of shine, cc, wecode, and ctw. cfs by black @ code