Str 15, Dex 14, Con 17, Int 9, Wis 10, Cha 12
(7 + 5 + 7 - 1 + 0 + 2 = 20, +2 Con (human bonus))
Combat
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HP: 15 (1d12+3), AC: 15 (+3 armor, +2 Dex), Spd 40 ft, Init +3, Saves: Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +0, BAB: +1, CMB: +3, CMD: 15, Atk: +3 greatsword (2d6+3 S/19-20) or power attack +2 greatsword (2d6+6 S/19-20), +3 thrown dagger (1d4+2 P/19-20)
Raging: HP: 17 (1d12+5), AC 13 (+3 armor, +2 Dex, -2 rage), Spd 40 ft, Init +3, Saves: Fort +6, Ref +2, Will +2, BAB +5, CMB: 15, Atk +5 greatsword (2d6+6 S/19-20) or power attack +4 greatsword (2d6+9 S/19-20), +3 thrown dagger (1d4+4 P/19-20)
Racial Abilities
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+1 hp or +1 skill point per level while single classed Barbarian, bonus feat, +1 skill point per level, +2 Constitution
Class Abilities
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Proficiency in light armor, medium armor and shields (not tower shields) and all simple and martial weapons, Rage 6 rounds / day, Fast Movement +10.
Feats
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Power Attack (human Bonus), Cleave
Traits
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Westcrown Firebrand (+1 Initiative checks, +1 attacks during a surprise round), Dark-Eyed Demon* (+2 Intimidate checks (*same as Widowed from Curse of the Crimson Throne or City Born from Rise of the Runelords))
Carried: 41 lbs, with backpack - 57.5 lbs
Encumbrance – Str 15 (Light 66 lbs, Med 67-133 lbs, 134-200 lbs)
Cash spent (out of 105 gp): 87 gp, 4 sp and 7 cp
Cash remaining (in pouch, in backpack): 16 gp, 5 sp and 3 cp
Gained in game
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3 potions of cure light wounds, 300 XP
Combat Tactics
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Ankara doesn't like to fight, and will try to intimidate his way out of a scuffle or barfight. But when a fight seems inevitable, he believes in a fast offense, taking advantage of his reflexes and mobility to move in (hopefully by surprise) and use some combination of the charge maneuver, Rage, Power Attack and Cleave to inflict as much damage as fast as possible. He will attempt to position himself in such a way as to take advantage of Cleave, and will almost always lead off with a Rage-fueled Power Attack (unless the foe is very obviously going to be hard to hit, such as a fullplate-clad Hellknight). Against a foe he is having trouble damaging (an incorporeal one, or one with very high damage resistance), he will turn to Total Defense, unless able to flee.
He values his own life quite highly, and will just as quickly withdraw and flee (again, taking advantage of his superior mobility, as well as his incredible stamina for a long run), if the odds are overwhelming. So far, he hasn't had allies to consider, so he's never been faced with that sort of choice, but, as long as allies are still standing, he may stand and fight as well, simply so as to not be *seen* running, which, in his mind, is more shameful a thing than the act of running...
Ankara
Human Barbarian 1, CN
With features that are traditionally Azlanti, Ankara comes from a family of surly fisher-folk, who keep to themselves and think of their little community as one of the only ‘pure’ remnants of old Azlant. As a result of their concerns about the purity of their blood, they community has grown increasingly inbred, and gained a bad reputation with surrounding villages, as they are reputed to kidnap maidens (or youths) with strong Azlanti appearances and carry them away to ‘join the family.’ No proof of these accusations has ever surfaced, and so this noisome little community tucked away in the delta between the Arch of Aroden and the great bay known as the Hellmouth continues to thrive.
Ankara was born son to the town’s unofficial mayor, who was appointed to the job solely because he was one of the few with the inclination to deal with the annual tax collectors sent from Westcrown. Like his father before him, Ankara shows no outside sign of the genetic rot that has set in to the people of his village, but shares a terrible temper, and has difficulty processing certain abstract bits of reasoning, such as the written word or mathematics. Born on stormy night, when a foul stench arose from the sea and strange bodies were found swept ashore in the morning, Ankara was born with solid black eyes, which were regarded as an ill omen (and resemble the empty black orbs of the degenerate remnants of the ancient Azlanti derisively called the 'Gillmen,' but he knows nothing of their existence, save as boogeymen said to stalk the beaches and mud-fens during nights when the sea-fog shrouds the shoreline, and children should stay inside if they don't want to be dragged to a watery grave, to be eaten, or worse...). Otherwise, he shares the dusky olive complexion of his parents, and the straight black hair, high forehead and upswept sinister eyebrows common to those of Azlanti heritage.
Ankara has always been prone to visions, and would walk in his sleep and find himself miles from home, alone in the wilderness, where the sounds and smells of his home would not plague him. As soon as he was old enough to do so, he fashioned himself a hammock of twine, and began to sleep far from his home, skulking around a neighboring village and spying on their way of life from afar, coveting the many things that he had no experience of, such as fair-haired maidens who smelled of flowers, not fish. His first encounters with these people went badly, as he thought that he could simply take what he wanted, as son of the chief, and he was soundly beaten by a dozen outraged villagers and sent limping back home. He did not let this discourage him, and ran off the next year on a merchant vessel, using his strong back to earn passage to anyplace that promised him new sights and sounds and smells.
Since finding himself in the 'big city' of Westcrown, he's been increasingly frustrated, having grown up in a tiny insular community where people barricaded the doors and huddled together and kept dark secrets, only to find that the big city is no better. Dockworkers muttered endlessly (if quietly) of dark deeds and unseen terrors, and while he tried to keep his head down and do his work, when the closest thing to a friend he had made, an even-tempered and easy-going former Mwangwi slave named Ku'unda, became one of the 'disappeared,' Ankara found that he had finally had enough. He'd already fled his home, to get away from the huddling in the dark, whispering of dangers unknown, only to find that the rest of the world seemed trapped in the same sort of shadowy half-life, paralyzed by fear and uncertainty. Here, in this strange colorful place, he would make a stand. He began to listen to the agitators and their words of fire, and make note of how ship's captains who came to port would remain on their ships, lanterns lit and sailors on watch, instead of coming ashore to spend their coin on strong drink and soft company. He would not run again.
