Antig Hogslaughter

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About Antig Hogslaughter

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  • Birthday 07/17/1988

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  1. <p>Methinks I hath spotted a wry villain!</p>

  2. Antiquitar shook his head, pairing the motion with a loud harumph! "None Antig knowin' why's any ulffs is all crazin' 'round 'n tryin' t'kill all us good'n's." He sighed, tenderly rubbing at one of the raised bumps on his forehead. "Dey's wantin' t'rulin' th'Hurde, 'nyways. Duntchyer worryin', Horns," he turned to the tauren Elder, now smiling, "we'll gun' dun'n git'em in dey's arse one o'dese days, yuh?" Bizmir hopped forward to interrupt, still panting from his previous shrieking terror. "Mister Antig, we still need to find a way out of here!" The imp's eyes grew wide as silver pieces. "What if that elf sends over some SPELLBREAKERS?!" Antiquitar raised an eyebrow, apparently unaware of the term. "Th'girl's right, i'ma tinkin'. Horns," he continued speaking to Nahumarii, "yer knowin' howsabout we's gittin' outta dis perfoomey ulff-hole?"
  3. Antiquitar, several large bumps beginning to protrude on his skull, jabbed a gloved hand toward Lysimachus. "Th'furkkin' ULFF gun dun 'n tried t'be stealin' ma moneyz!" He shook the Elder's hand off, motioning to a spot of ground beside the group. "Ahm all warkin' on th'street 'n th'ulffs JUMPIN' on me, li'l slithery hand tryin' t'get" he pats on the side of his robe "to m'purse!" Bizmir, until this point hopping from one foot to the other and shrieking, began to calm down. He, too, extended a long, bony finger toward the Marquess. "He tried to kill Mister Antig with his, his... with his really bad ElfenKillStick!"
  4. Antiquitar wandered through the dim streets of Silvermoon City, apparently without direction and apparently without purpose. Having come upon Dalaran in his travels through Northrend, he thereby discovered the modern wonder of "portals." Now, he was trapped in a foreign town, with nothing but his and his demon's wits to survive by. The warlock felt a slight tugging at his cloak. It was Bizmir, as usual. "Mister Antig," the imp asked, "we've been here a real long time. It's dark and..." The tiny creature looked down. "I just don't like the way these people look at me." The creature's master glanced around. He couldn't say for sure where they were -- all the signs were written in some form of fancy cursive he couldn't comprehend. "Well, Sam," he started, scowling at a shifty-looking elf as they passed by, "dis'n part'a town's lookin' all nice-like." He motioned toward the extravagant fountains on either side. "Ahm'a tinkin' we's whurr dem rich ulff's is libin'." Bizmir frowned. "I don't know what that means." Antiquitar laughed. "Hurr! Iff'n yer's payin' 'ttention, Sam, den you'da see'd th'ULFFS is MAGIC. Naw, ahm'a not gun' be sayin' magic's all rull 'n shiz, but iff'n it is, den dese rich ulffs be makin' us fly back'ta Northrend." He nodded and pointed triumphantly at Bizmir, confident in his explanation. "Whurr we be fightin' da Lickin' King 'n gittin' ma pigs!" While thumping down the street, the orc had been lacking in the amount of attention he paid to his surroundings. With a simultaneous FURKKIN'DAMN! and What the god-helling HELL?!, he found himself on the ground, caught in a tangled mass with an equally-distracted Blood Elf. Reacting in the best way he knew how, Antiquitar reeled back an enormous arm and began to pummel his would-be assailant.
  5. lawl. That'd be WoW for you, no doubt <_<
  6. Libelle and I went to it a weekend ago as well, right before Demitri came into town... It was so adorable! And beautiful, as you said. Dark or fanciful, I always love Miyazaki's films. He's just fantastic.
  7. This'll be awesome PUGs, yes, but at least we'll have more opportunity to get into instances while leveling up.
  8. *Presently Nerdgasms* I've watched them all, since you first spoke of them some time earlier.
  9. I would like to submit the first entry in the Epic of Antig Hogslaughter (Ahm'a GIT ma furkkin' pigs!), So Many Steps to the Top of the Tower (Climbing them all will take most of an hour!)
  10. So Many Steps to the Top of the Tower (Climbing them all will take most of an hour!) --- The old orc contemplated his next move, watching his breath form small, icy clouds and then dissipate into nothing. The panorama before him was alien; great monuments of pine rose both nearby and far into the distance, dotting the hilly landscape in separate but numerous patches. "Mmm... been seein' stranger things, ahm'a thinkin'." Sitting with his hands on his knees, he turned his neck that he might better speak at his imp. "Yer knowin' this'n's it, Sam. Yuh, ma pigs ain't gun dun runned off much farder den here." Bizmir nodded once, crisply. "They're definitely not far, master. I can smell them!" Hopping excitedly from one foot to the other, the creature continued. "Why, if there are horses, like the ones we saw... Then there must be pigs!" Antiquitar grinned broadly, his toothless maw only another reminder of his advancing age. "Now yer gettin' it, Sam!" He landed a friendly blow on the imp's back, nearly knocking the poor demon senseless. "Gittin' more like'n yer mudder every day, m'girl. She'd'a been proud." Bizmir had by now grown quite accustomed to the new identity his master had laid upon him, content enough considering the orc's caring treatment. Though Antiquitar was indeed completely senile, he somehow managed to keep his 'family' of demons safe from most harm. The imp pointed in the distance, to a great, alabaster stairway. "That's where we need to go, mister Antig! That's where the man said we were to go!" Antiquitar nodded his agreement. "Ahm knowin' dat, Sam. He'd been a good'n fer tellin' us whurs ma pigs. Ahm'a hafta come back'n tank'im once ahm findin' ma pigs." The pair had earlier that day happened upon a human fur trader, who, after some coercion, suggested that Antiquitar's lost pigs could be found in the ruined troll empire of Zul'drak. Though information as a result of horrendous torture had more often than not led the warlock into misdirection, he never seemed capable of resisting the use of fire and shadow on those he interrogated, particularly if they were human. And now, he and his loyal imp stood in front of one of Zul'drak's monolithic entrances, terrified trolls fleeing sporadically from some unknown entity. "Well," the orc began, "iff'n we're gunna be makin' it 'fore twilight's up, ahm'a guessin' we's better be leabin' now." Eventually reaching the ancient incline, Antiquitar began to march up without delay. He was stopped however, by a tugging at his cloak. "Mister Antig," the concerned Bizmir posited, "don't you think you should have Grimnos carry you?" The creature peered fearfully up the enormous stairway. "Last time... I mean." He frowned. "What if you were to fall again?" Antiquitar shrugged. The last similar such climb he had made, at the temple-city of Jintha'alor in the Hinterlands, had nearly cost him his life. His old muscles wearied easily, and collapsing in exhaustion was precisely what could spell his doom. "Naw, I's eated a rull good fudd dis mornin', Sam. Lotsa fishes." He looked back up towards his destination. "Ah'll be doin' juss fine." Bizmir conceded, and the pair began the ascension. Halfway up, a troll came shrieking towards the duo, nearly losing his balance and falling down the path. "YOU BE TURNIN' BACK, MON!" His eyes were wide as he pointed behind him in terror. "Da Lich King be attackin' and killin' all of us! There ain't no hope for livin' in Zul'drak!" Antiquitar, panting from his arduous journey, simply waved the troll's warning away. "Dun yer..." He gulped, exhaling deeply. "Dun yer worryin', Tusks. Ahm'a lookin fer yer Lickin King up dere, lookin' fer ma pigs." The troll just shook his head and continued to flee downwards, calling behind him as he went. "Suit yourself, mon! But don't ya be blamin' dis troll when you're comin' back as one o' dem ghoulsies!" Bizmir shuddered, watching the troll's fleeing form fade in the distance. "He seemed really afraid, mister Antig. Maybe it IS too dangerous that way?" "NO, Samantha!" The warlock turned, thrusting his staff in the imp's direction. "We's dun come dis far, an' ahm'a gonna GIT ma gaddamned PIGS!" He jabbed Bizmir in the chest. "Don'tchyer be sudjestin' we stop, now." With that, the orc purposefully resumed the ascent towards the top. An hour later, Antiquitar Manslayer sat once again with his hands on his knees, observing his icy breath and contemplating his next course of action. The rolling hills of Grizzlemaw and the muddied plains of the Howling Fjord were now behind him. He had scaled into one of the strongholds of the Lich King, the now-broken empire of the Ice Trolls, Zul'drak. The orc had come far, and in finally reaching a bastion of the Lich King, the one whom he just knew had robbed him of his precious pigs, had achieved what he deemed was the beginning of victory. He smiled and glanced at his fatigued companion, speaking softly. "Yer dun did good, Sam." The imp turned to regard its master, who nodded, looking back to the scene ahead of them -- their next great adventure. "Yer dun did good."
  11. The weathered orc stares at you for a moment, and releases a sudden "Guffaw!" He then resumes his stare for an uncomfortable amount of time. His voidwalker paces behind him, back and forth, back and forth... Back and forth. The air in the inn is dry, and smells of dirt and swine fecal matter. Rather, you realize, it is the orc that smells of dirt and swine fecal matter. Reeks of it, in fact. He finally speaks. "She'n good wit swoards." He carefully enunciates the 'w' in the word. "Keel'd dem trolls ded. 'D' 'E' 'D'. Ded. Rull good. Neber been seein' it. Saw'er 'gain in Bones' hut. Maked me in Dagalran, hut o' fakers." He shakes his head. "I'd tinked she'd knowed better'n be furkkin' 'round wit dem fakers. 'Mages.' Haw." He shrugs and pushes past you, turning back only to call to his demon. "C'mon, Humph. G'nna gitchya some fudds."
  12. "Yeaaah, Humphrey. 's not ever day yer lookin' at'chyer own 'flection whur it's blue." Antiquitar inclined his head up, and then moved it back down again, inspecting his visage within a pool of crystal-blue water. "Ah've gun'n dun it again, brudder. Ah's got some better tings t'be doin'." He walked away, his Voidwalker, Humphrey, lingering only a moment before grudgingly following his master. Antiquitar's journey to locate his pigs had taken him far and wide, and involved him in conflicts that he felt he had no place in. The ongoing war between the Alliance and the Horde was something he was well versed in, having been fighting (or fleeing from) the opposition for the better part of 27 years. "sho's good ahm habbin' yerself fer ma comp'ny, Humph. No better brudder out dere, ahm tinkin'." He sighed deeply, taking a seat on a decrepit log. "Dese days ahm gittin' rull tired, rull quick. Well. Ahm guessin' dis how it gunna b-..." His dialogue ended as an arrow cut through the still air, slamming into a tree beside him. A shrill, angry voice followed it, speaking accented but otherwise fluent orcish. "Warlock! What business have you in this forest? Is its dark taint not already enough?!" Antiquitar strained to see his attacker, still sitting firmly on his rump. He sat back and sighed, his old eyes unable to pierce the dense foliage. "Ahm Antig. Ahm lookin' fer ma pigs -- yer soundin' like un Ulff. Yer bleedin' ulff?" Stepping out of the shadows, the Night Elf held her bow taut and ready. "I will not be swayed by masked incompetence, orc. If you are of the Twilight's Hammer, I am to destroy you." She narrowed her eyes. "And if you are of the Horde, your fate shall be likewise." Shaking his head, Antiquitar hobbled arthritically to his feet. "Naw, ahm'a lookin' fer ma pigs. Iffin' dey's aint here, ahm'a go. C'mon, Humph." He began to shuffle away. "Halt! I require answers, orc!" The elf lifted her bow, poised to release. "HALT, OR I'LL FIRE!" Her target continued shuffling away, and a moment later, another missile was flying towards him. But it never reached its target. In such an out-of-the-way area of such a destitute place, the Elven scout's mangled and mutilated body would not be found for days, perhaps even weeks -- it would be well on its way to decomposition by then, if not entirely consumed by the Felwood's despicable wildlife. ~ His pigs will be found.
  13. Full Name: Antiquitar Manslayer of the Stormreaver Clan OR Antig Hogslaughter (this is the name he uses) Place of Residence: Hogslaughter Farm, Durotar Place of Birth: Shadowmoon Valley Nicknames: "Antig" "Papa" "Granpappy" Age: 62 Race: Orc Gender: Male Hair: White Skin: Greenish-Brown Eyes: Hazel Height: 5'11" Weight: 214 lbs. Physical Features Expanded: Antiquitar, being old, is beset by wrinkles and arthritic joints. However, he can overcome the deficiencies of his age by utilizing the empowering dark-magic of his Warlockery. His hands and face are coarse from years under the harsh sun and even harsher elements. Known Relatives: His entire family being dead and he being mostly senile, Antig believes his demons to be his immediate and extended family, save for his granddaughter, Vond, who has recently gone missing. Religious Preferences: Antig does not believe in the light, and denies even the existence of magic (though only during his moments of mental befuddlement, which is most of the time). Occupation: Pig farmer. Group/Guild affiliation: Antig has joined Outbreak, as its leader, Sigfried, has promised to assist him in finding his lost pigs. Enemies: Those who stand between him and his pigs. Likes/Hobbies: Chatting with his family (demons), eating, explaining to young'ins the proper methods of pig farming. Favorite Foods: Pig and radishes. Favorite Drinks: Anything! Favorite Colors: Pink Weapons of Choice: His magic, though he'd hardly admit such things even exist, anymore. Dislikes: Traveling for long periods of time, talking about "furkkin' fakes" (magic and the like), and whores. Special Abilities: Antig, having served as one of Gul'dan's warlocks in the first war, is well versed in the dark rituals associated with shadow magic. He is also a fair survivalist, having evaded human internment camps following the second war. Notable Personality Traits: Almost completely senile, save for rare moments of psychological clarity, in which he recalls his past and his former power and intelligence. Misc. Quirks: Completely obsessed with finding his pigs, he will trust entirely and take the help of any who deny they stole his pigs (which he will accuse nearly everyone of having done). Demonstrative Quotations: "Whur's ma pig?!" "Yer's gun'n dun stealed ma pigs. I'ma furkkin keel ya, pansy-arsed ulff!" History: Antiquitar, as with many other Orcs before the first war, practiced minor shamanism within the confines of his clan (at that time, the Shadowmoon Clan). He was, however, amongst those who fell under the sway of Gul'dan and his promises of power. Quickly rising through the lowest ranks of the newly-formed Stormreaver Clan, Antiquitar eventually found himself storming Stormwind and warring with the other Human kingdoms. During this time, he achieved the surname of "Manslayer," due obviously to the great number of humans whom he murdered. When Gul'dan left to locate the Tomb of Sargeras with his and the Twilight's Hammer clan, Antiquitar was among the loyal to be brought along. The disaster which followed saw the destruction of nearly all his brethren; Antiquitar escaped only as a result of leaving his camp to locate several runaway swine. In the years since, Antiquitar has shed his dark past in an effort to reclaim some of his former life on Draenor, taking a wife and eventually fathering a child, who herself mothered a daughter. His entire family was lost, however, during the Orcish exodus to Kalimdor, save for his young granddaughter, Vond. Growing more and more senile since finally settling in Durotar, the old orc had nearly forgotten all of his former abilities. However, recent events have forced him to set out in search of both his pigs and his granddaughter, but not alone -- his cadre of demons, now his "family," has returned after nearly twenty seven years of imprisonment.