After getting his food, Anaach goes to pick out a seat, and begin his meal.
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Anaach looks over to the food tents, and decides that the Salmon and Venison seem to be the best suited for his tastes. Looking to his friends, he smiles and says, "I think I will try the salmon first, and then perhaps the Venison... who wants to join me in feasting?"
"Keep your eyes peeled, Those two seek blood, and if we aren't careful, they will end up getting it." Anaach says, twisting the butt of his weaponry into the dust.
Patting Remy on the shoulder, Anaach moves towards the climbing wall, coming to a stop near Kortus, "How is the competition going, Friend?"
Anaach glares at the two, and then takes Remy's hand and pulls himself out of the sticky mud. "those two seek to make enemies as a craftsman does a masterpiece." The mighty Shoanti says softly
Walking to the edge of the mud, Anaach looks down at the pair, arms folded across his barrel of a chest. "Strength is not just that of the self, but also of the fellowship. The people you disrespect will not willingly help you. They become weaker because they will not receive your assistance, and you become weaker because you are alone." Anaach is simply stating his view, and implying that they should change their ways, and with the ease that he bested them lends a certain weight to his words. He step forward with his left foot, sinking up to his knee in the mud. He holds out a hand to one of the half-orc men.
Anaach looks at the pair and his face grows stony and his lips tighten. He wraps the rope around his wrist and then takes his other hand and grips. His hands calloused and as hard as stone, as he points at the pair. "You two will end in that mud." He states this as a fact, not a boast.
Spreading his feet, and flexing his arms and all of the muscles in his body, he heaves the rope.
Anaach waits beside the rope for the game to begin, and he gets into his pack and pulls out two strips of leather, just like the leather wrapping his weapons, and begins to wrap it width-wise around his left hand, to function as a makeshift glove. He watches the dwarf entertain the small children, and he cannot help but let a small smile sneak onto his face.
Anaach grins at the idea of a physical competition, "Yes, Remy, I believe we could give a good show." The massive man walks over to the area where the game would take place, and begins to loosen himself up, pulling one arm across his chest and setting his pack and weaponry to the side.
When Liliana comes up, Anaach half turns, keeping an eye on the stage. "Hello, miss." he says with a short head bob, and then seems to return to watching the stage.
Anaach listens to the short language lesson, and then the subject of leaving came up... he calmly waits until everyone has said their piece before he speaks. "Whether I stay or go depends entirely on if I can find work here or not. If I do find work, I will stay or go as it takes me. If I cannot, I shall probably seek employment in Magnimar..."
"Please, don't change your language for me, Lars seems to be pleased to know someone who speaks his language."
"True." Anaach nods at the latest comment, only half paying attention to the conversation Kortus and Lars are having. "And sadly I Have not met Mister Hemlock"
As the speeches begin, Anaach begins walking over towards the stage, standing at the back in silence, his towering form allows him to look over the crowd. He looks at his companions and makes a little wave toward the stage, not thinking that the shorter men could see
"Indeed" Kortus and Lars' statements could either be the targets of his comment. Anaach goes to the vendor and buys an ale for each of the companions with him, but not one for himself. "Here, my friends, drink, and be merry." Anaach grins
Anaach claps the man on his shoulder, not hard or roughly. "Truer words have not been spoken, you have found the words I could not speak." he laughs, "And I shall buy the pint. Seeing as Remy has promised to spend my silver to buy one for me." The large man hoists his weapons back onto his shoulders as the group meanders toward a vendor. "So, friend, these men are Remy, and this is Lars." He points to each of the men in turn, "And I am Anaach Sklar-Quah. Who might you be?"
Getting laughed at was something Lars was certainly used to, but he usually understood why. This time, he most assuredly did not. "What funny?" he asks out of suspicion and cluelessness. "I am sorry, friend, but by drink I meant alcoholic drinks. They make you feel merry and suit celebrations well." Anaach tries to explain but cannot find the words, so he calls to Kortus, "Sir dwarf, please help me find the words to explain to my friend what it is like to drink of ale, or rum."
Anaach begins to laugh at Lars, not cruelly, but as though he just told a joke.
Anaach looks over the man, bows his head slightly and step calmly back to turn around and look over the group "NEVERMIND THAT, the large man bellows, "WE SHALL FIND DRINK ELSEWHERE" he shouts while thumping his ax on the ground. You cannot celebrate without drink!!!!
Anaach grins as they get to the porch of the tavern, "Everyone come inside, there is a challenge to be conquered." He pushes open the door to allow the crowd of adventurers entrance. His greataxe is resting at his feet, the polished blades gleaming in the sunlight
"Whistle intentionally. Sound nice. Disorienting! Sound confuse goblins lots." he says with a bit of glee. "Goblins get angry at sound. Reckless. Vulnerable. Good plan." he says with a soft chuckle, taking the dagger back.
"Many warriors have been felled by reckless anger, Your tactic is indeed sound." Anaach speaks the words with a bitter edge, though he does not bow his head or turn away, he feels the brand burning for all to see. "Angry warriors are quick to the first cut, but seldom do they get in the last."
"You see." is all he says as they walk along. "Nasty. Nasty, Nasty." He kind of gestures towards the lumbering Shoanti man with his freshly sharpened dagger, holding it by the blade to Anaach, presenting the hilt. "What you think?" Taking the dagger from Lars, he feels the uncomfortable lightness and thinks about how brittle it would be. "I dislike it, it is too small for me." Anaach's spear has a larger point than the entire dagger. "and it whistles slightly when swung."
"Calm down Lars," Anaach tries to be diplomatic, noting the man's discomfort, "Surely the drink cannot be that bad. Right?" Anaach is quite amused by the thought of such a challenge where the only challenge is 'drink this'
The largest of the group, a tall, muscled shoanti warrior with lengthy dark hair and a tattoo burned into the side of his face, smiles to you. His eyebrow raises as he sees the spiked chain as a weapon, but he greets you warmly in a deep, rumbling voice. "Of course, Tylur, I am Anaach Sklar-Quah. We are going to the Hagfish, there is apparently a challenge of sorts featured there."
Anaach lifts his battle-ax and spear and lay them both across his shoulders, hooking his arms overtop the wooden shafts. Walking slightly behind the others so as not to accidentally wound them, Anaach smiles and says, "If you clean them and skin them, Hagfish aren't that bad... This particular person looks like he would eat almost literally anything, potentially a rock.
Remy takes the money with an exaggerated bow. It was a pleasure, friends. Come! The least I could do is buy you lunch and a drink with the winnings. Hey! There's a contest at the Hagfish that I think would be right up your alley, Anaach. I'll even put up your entry fee so you can win your money back. Alaer? Are you hungry? Or better yet, thirsty? Anaach grins, having misjudged this fellow as a sore winner. "I never say no to a free meal, my friend."
"Nicely done." Anaach says when the rock sails high, flying in a straight line directly into the pole, and then frowns slightly at him shouting and drawing unnecessary attention to his, admittedly impressive accomplishment. Reaching around and taking his pouch from his satchel, Anaach begins to count out the silver pieces that add up to the wagered amount. "Your winnings." he says, holding out a handful of scratched and worn silver pieces, to Remy Deverin
"Anaach Sklar-Quah" he introduces himself, and he only possesses the one tattoo on his face. Anaach takes the offered hand and shakes it with very light, controlled movement. "mercenary guard, looking for work."
Alaer steps in and instantly nails the post with the rock, before Remy even throws. Anaach nods to him, "Impressive." With both of his weapons still in his right hand, Anaach's massive form could be construed as intimidating. He is a Shoanti barbarian, after all.
"I am Anaach Sklar-Quah" The large man says as he leans down to pick up a large stone.
Hurling the rock, Anaach has a fair amount of accuracy.
Anaach looks at Remy, then at the post, and back again. "I accept" he replies, "But we should take up a new position." Anaach's muscular form, and apparent physical strength means that this is probably a very smart idea, a rock hurled by this man could potentially hurt someone...
When nodded to, Anaach would bow his head slightly, out of simple courtesy.
The Shoanti looks at the Elven man when he approaches, simply sizing up the person, as he normally does. Anaach has not had much, if any, experience with magic, and so does not really mark him as a warrior or a threat.
Anaach would, with great reluctance allow the man to handle the weapon, if only because of the awe with which he looked at the object. Seeing the mans face beneath the mask also helps to put Anaach at ease After hearing the question Anaach thinks for a short period before responding with a short sentance, "There was talk of work in Sandpoint" Searching the area with his eyes, after retrieving his ax, he notes a few other warriors in the crowd.
Once again leaning the spear against himself, he grips the greatsword. Anaach's biceps bulge as he takes the iron from the Lars. Muscles appear to have to move out of the way of other muscles when he flexes. He weighs it thoughtfully and then passes it back, "Good weight and reach. Poorly cared for. Not a bad weapon." he says, and hefts his battle ax and turns it sideways to show the gleaming, oiled, razor-sharp head to Lars. The weapon appears to have been cared for like a child.
The veritable giant once again turns, after letting the Greataxe's shaft thump back to the dust. "Hello Remy," The tanned fellow says, extending an enormous hand to Remy, "Yes, Alitsa, I did. This man is named Lars."
The rust-armored man with a greatsword and an ivory mask walks up and thrusts the massive blade into the ground. Anaach is not exceptionally happy about the way this man acts. The man says festival, and then proceeds to babble incoherently...while pulling out a bizarre dagger. He flexes with his thigh and the two-handed ax falls into his left hand with a gentle slapping noise, and he grips the spear with his right. This movement seems so natural that he just seems to be adjusting his weaponry, though he just feels uncomfortable around the man. "Sir, I do not understand what you are saying." Anaach's simple, yet blunt statement does a poor job of disguising his displeasure about the situation.
The Shoanti warrior half turns and looks down at Marin when he speaks, "It is a celebration of a god or goddess I believe. The caravan that I traveled here with spoke of it." One thing Marin, as a bard, would notice is the Shoanti symbol, half burned half tattooed into Anaach's face. This symbol is one that basically translates to fallen warrior, and is a mark of banishment. Taking a second bite of the delicious kebab, Anaach adjusts his pack by leaning the two weapons against his thigh and the bare left half of his chest to free up a hand.
The massive man reaches down into his belt pouch, pulling out a few copper pieces and passing them over, he bites into the juicy meat and smiles, nodding. "It must be as you say, sir. I would be proud to serve food such as this." he replies
Anaach is too distracted by the rest of the crowd and the festivities to notice the boast. When the priestess approaches him he looks slightly wary, having seen her grip her sword, but dismisses it as a normal Varisian response. A deep voice rumbles from the bearded giant, as he nods to the first question, "Hello, miss. This is a day of festivity. I am Anaach Sklar-Quah. He gives a small smile, knowing his name was the answer to her question.
Entering the square, Anaach breathes deep and smiles. This man stands at nearly six and a half feet in height and wears a cloth from his right shoulder, across his chest and wrapped around his waist in place of a shirt, a pair of cloth pants which stop just below the knee and heavy-looking sandals which wrap up and around his calves. On his back is a pack, holding his armor and necessities, Carrying both of these weapons in his left hand, Anaach has both a battle axe, and a spear. These weapons have a leather wrap which starts just below the head and goes all the way to the end, stained near black with sweat. Approaching one of the stalls, Anaach purchases a skewer of meat
Let me put down a little of my character's personality and style, so you can know who/what he is. Anaach is a barbarian warrior, but he is neither a fool, nor a monster. His rage is carefully controlled. He is no scholar, but he knows his own strength lies in his ability to use his intelligence in situations where others from his tribe would attack wildly. His face has been branded with the mark of the fallen warrior because of his defeat at the hands of a Varisian, and because of this he has been exiled, living amongst civilization as a bodyguard, he knows that keeping his temper is more important than knowing when to lose it. While many people underestimate him, he surprises those who think they know what a tribesman will do in situations. When in battle, Anaach is a fearsome sight to behold, using the weapons of his tribe, the spear and axe. If his opponent has a shield he will hurl the spear, aiming for the top or center of the defensive item, trying to make the spear dig into the material. Then he will attempt to charge them with his massive ax, swinging the monstrous weapon with deadly ease, and either trying to destroy what is left of the article, or wounding its wielder. Anaach would prefer not to kill, but he will not falter should his opponent refuse to yield or is undeserving of mercy.
Varrian Lunari, I'm sorry to be coming in on like post forty or fifty, but I absolutely want to be able to participate in a RotRL campaign, I have slight experience (less than the first encounter), but not really that much. My character is fully made and listed under this Alias, I think he complies with all rules. I will be going back over his character with a fine tooth comb to see if he completely fits. Please consider this character for your campaign if it is not too late. -Death_Keeper
I was also trying to revive it :/
Anaach takes a step back and gives a grin which contains no humor, leaning back and taking careful aim, he hurls his five foot long ash pole that is tipped with a foot of metal
Anaach charges the diminutive greenskinned monster which tried to cause him magical harm...
The axe rends through the shoddy goblin armor, spraying gore across the marketplace, Anaach screams into the air in triumph FEAR THE SKLAR QUAH!
Anaach eats a lot less than one would expect such a large man to eat. Anaach samples some of the fare from each of the places, before settling on some salmon from the Rusty Dragon...
I am sorry, but my axe holds sentimental value, as does my armor. the large man says whilst gathering all of his gear back up, still bare chested.
The walks over, not to happy to have been beaten. He grudgingly shakes Anaachs hand, but then good-naturedly says, "To you as well, Anaack. That strength of yours is something to be reckoned with. I would not want to meet you in a fight." He eyes the battleaxe leaning up. repost
The walks over, not to happy to have been beaten. He grudgingly shakes Anaachs hand, but then good-naturedly says, "To you as well, Anaack. That strength of yours is something to be reckoned with. I would not want to meet you in a fight." He eyes the battleaxe leaning up. "Not many seek to face my axe. Even fewer regret having faced it." Anaach says, wiping sweat off of his brow, once again frowning at the slight stubble on his head... He redons his leather chest and bracers, slinging his pack back on
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