My brief interest in playing a non-spellcaster has already flickered out.
Please remove Ankara from consideration, and good luck to the rest that have applied!
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Here's a re-vamped version of a character from a Council of Thieves PbP that fell through. Both of the Traits are pre-existing Traits, I just reflavored them to suit his fishy heritage. (pun intended) Posting regularly isn't a problem for me, but I'm in four-ish PBPs already, so I'll totally understand if you want to pick someone who isn't spread so thin. 80% of my characters are clerics or druids, with the remaining 20% arcane casters, so this will be something very, very new for me...
"Whatever, just do it swiftly, we need to move forward." Ankara says, shouldering his blade.
Ankara instead ends up in the square that Kyras just vacated, but otherwise adjusts to the rapidly evolving melee without comment.
Noting that any attempt to move through Janiven and Malcolm to step into the room to the north would just expose him to opportunistic attacks from multiple goblins, Ankara takes a double move action to run all the way around the pool (breezing through Patrum on the way) and ends up next to Kyras, stepping up to flank the Goblin facing Malcolm. He glares at the small menace that he's just run up behind and says, 'Boo!'
As Janiven has jumped in front of him, Ankara delays his action, in case she ends up falling to the goblins, which will allow him to step forward to fight.
Ankara slashes at the goblin directly in front of him.
potential Cleave
Init Just goblins, Ankara thinks with relief, loosening his white-knuckled grip on his sword and pushing past Janiven to put his back in the top left corner, while taking a single swing at the goblin in front of him. Attack
Ankara grips his greatsword tightly. Whatever is ahead, it sounds large and dangerous...
"We should remove these boards after we pass, to make pursuit more difficult, and our path less obvious." Ankara says.
"Alright. Calistria has spoken." Ankara says bluntly. "Move." Taking his own advice, he moves forward decisively.
"Flip a coin, spin a dagger, gut a chicken. It matters not. Just do it quickly." Ankara says.
Ankara turns round slowly, sweeping his gaze around the corridors, looking for the most likely direction to find an exit, or the next mark, or signs of the missing mark.
Turning to Janiven, regardless of what he finds or doesn't find, he wipes blood from the blade-track across his shoulder and chest and says quietly, "Take hold of yourself, woman. You are frightening the boy. If you mean to lead men into revolution, you can't fall apart just because a chalk mark on the wall is missing." He draws one of his daggers and hands it to Morosino. "I expect that back, boy, so don't get yourself killed."
Ankara steps to H4, gasping suddenly as he comes out of his Rage. He takes a single ineffectual shot at the remaining skeleton.
13 to hit (12 damage), cleave with 12 to hit (13 damage) Ankara silently rages again, his face pale from the injuries he's already taken. He strikes first at the threat to his left, attempting to follow through to the creature directly beside him, but his limbs feel like all of the strength has poured from his body, along with his blood. His enemies still stand, and his sword hangs heavily in his hands.
Ankara moves forward in eerie silence, only the rapid footfalls marking his rapid advance.
He takes a swing at a skeleton, and attempts to pass the blow through to strike another, with a chuff of exertion. 24 to hit, 9 damage on I4, cleave for 22 to hit and 14 damage on H4.
“Was it really necessary to burn the tavern down!?” Ankara's cold black eyes regard Janiven like a bug. "If you thought that you could ever return to a place that the Hellknights have raided as a nest of insurgents, I just saved you from making a fatal mistake." He moves past her, only now drawing his greatsword and carrying it at the ready.
At Marcellius' offer, Ankara just grunts agreement, "You do that." He offers Janiven and Morosino a hand down the trapdoor, ushering them out with haste. Once they are clear, he tosses the lanterns into the main room, so that the oil in them splashes out across the floor, and then flings burning coals from the remains of the hearthfire onto them, before hopping into the tunnel himself, saying to Marcellius just before his head goes out of sight, "Better hurry on behind."
Nodding his head at Sevegny, scurrying down the trapdoor as he sets the table in place, he grunts, "We can't all fit at once. I might as well do something useful while others are getting clear." Looking at Morosino, he points to the trap, "Move boy!"
Ankara grabs the largest piece of furniture (probably the table at which they were eating) he can find and braces it against the door, to slow pursuit. He continues to look for lanterns lighting the room, a hearth, cooking oil or some signs of what fire was used to cook the chicken they've been eating. 'Not even a knight who serves Hell will relish running into a burning building...' he thinks.
Ankara gets his feet, black locks whipping around angrily as he looks in all directions at once, like a startled cat. "Is there another way out of here, woman?" he says to Janiven, before resolving to die with a full belly and seizing a hunk of meat off of the chicken with his hand, and shoving it into his mouth. Mouth full, he moves with purpose towards the kitchen, seeking for a source of oil, for cooking or use in a lantern to light the place, muttering around his impromptu meal, "We can burn the place down behind us, make it impossible for them to follow..."
Ankara speaks up when Sevegny has finished. "My own people live in a prison of fear and doubt, of their own making. I came to the cities hoping to find free men, unafraid, only to find richer civilized, just as trapped by their own fear as the place I left behind." "I chose long ago not to live like my parents, thinking only of glories long past, and pretending not to see that those times are gone and that they are a fallen people. And it seems that, if I must stand and fight, then this place is as good as any other."
At Janiven's assurance that Malcolm is indeed one of those invited, Ankara moves from beside the door and moves to take the tray of chicken from her and sets it on the table for her. Drawing his dagger, he cuts off a leg for himself, after looking around to see how many people are present. He doesn't seem to have much use for a plate.
Ankara's warning appears to have gone unheeded, so he instead gets up from the table to greet the new arrival, bringing a mug of ale with him. "Welcome, stranger. Even though you were not invited to our 'private party,' feel free to enjoy a drink and stay awhile." he says loudly, with no trace of warmth to his features. He steps around behind the new arrival to stand by the door he just came in, making a motion as if to secure it, but really just obviously blocking the exit. Once he's firmly planted in front of the door, he continues in a voice loud enough to carry across the room. "Since he's obviously heard us talking about things that will get us all tortured, hanged and possibly set on fire, do we tie him up until we are done here, or should I just kill him?" From the flat tone of his voice, it sounds less like an intimidation attempt and more like a statement of intent...
Ankara leans towards Patrum as if in drunken camaraderie and whispers, "The nobleman who just stumbled in admitted to not being invited, but just being lost. The wrong words can kill, here." He then claps the dwarf on the back, and laughs, saying more loudly. "So where are you thinking of moving your business to, master Patrum? The markets of Katapesh, perhaps, where business is always brisk?"
Ankara revises his impression of the hostess from 'serving wench' to 'unlikely criminal mastermind,' pouring himself a mug of warm ale, sniffing it, wrinkling his nose critically, and then handing it to Marcellius. "Your vows are safe, this is no luxury, I assure you." he looks at the ale with mild disapproval. "But it's probably safer than the water..."
Ankara, who has been slouching and taking up more room than he strictly needs, sits up and makes room for the new addition to the table, nodding to the flame-haired dwarf respectfully.
Ankara turns his head back to the table at Marcellius' pronouncement, a bewildered look quickly turning opportunistic. "And so long as people know hunger and thirst, to waste food and drink is heartless." he says without a beat, taking Marcellius' goblet and draining it in a long swallow, before setting it down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sets the goblet down very precisely, not with a challenging thud, and his face is carefully neutral, his black eyes betraying nothing, until his 'poker face' is disrupted by Sevegny's rejoinder about 'natural pleasures,' his arced eyebrows arcing even higher, and a smile tugging at his face.
As Marcellius sits down, Ankara looks amused, but his expression changes as the Paladin describes his faith. His black eyes close for a moment and he turns to look at the others who have gathered for this meeting, and, in particular, for the woman who promised food.
"No, Westcrown is now my home, but I was born in a fishing village up the coast." Ankara says casually. "Are you a native?"
Ankara's naturally suspicious nature is thrown off by Sevegny's natural charm, and he steps forward (neatly blocking Marcellius, if possible), "The man who invited me to this place is also not here. There is a woman bringing food who may know of this halfling." He pulls out a chair for Sevegny before remembering to introduce himself, "I am Ankara."
Ankara frowns, not seeing the man who contacted him, and having no idea who the woman greeting them is. He shrugs. 'If your host is serving poison, might as well clean your plate.' he thinks, remembering an ancient proverb he heard somewhere, and waits for the promised food to arrive. He looks around one more time for Larko, dismissing the woman who spoke earlier as a pretty distraction of some sort.
Ankara's whole body freezes for a bare moment in surprise, as he was just opening the door when it swung open in his face, but recovers soon enough and nods brusquely in greetings to the woman who seems to know his name, whiling moving past her into the building. He pauses for a moment while his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting and steps to the side, to make room for others to enter, while he warily eyes anyone else present. He looks for Larko, in particular.
"Indeed." answers Ankara curtly, sizing up the red-cloaked stranger with a wary eye, muttering in a low voice loudly enough to be heard by both Kyras and Marcellius, but not loudly enough to carry much farther. "Expensive armor, but a wooden shield. Not so rich as he appears. A spy would have gotten that right. Come," he extends a hand to Marcellius, "let's get off the street, warriors." and he turns and enters the tavern.
Ankara recognizes Kyras from the falchion strapped to his back and enters alongside him. "I remember you. You are the one Graccus chose to be his guardsman instead of me. Was guarding his precious shipment as irritating as the man himself?"
Tactics also done in Ankara's profile.
Ankara's black eyes never waver from Larko's face, although his brows furrow when the man looks around to see if anyone is looking. He shows interest at the thought of hunting shadow beasts, and his face turns carefully neutral at the mention of guards taking people away. His most visceral reaction is when mention is made of the Last Azlanti, and one of his hands curls into a fist and touches his heart for a moment, although the reaction doesn't reach his face. "Thank you for the offer of work. I will be there." He turns away, muttering under his breath, 'Vizio, Scripa' over and over in a sing-song undertone, trying to keep the directions fresh in his head.
Ankara's eyes narrow and he pointedly does not look around to see who is looking, as he has recognized that is a sure sign of having something to hide. "I am always looking for work. Better work than this."
Maybe on a recent job that we were both hired for, as well as some others, the others probably started giving "that bastard half-breed" a hard time. I'm assuming Ankara has a short temper? Maybe when you stuck up for me, it started a fight, and after giving those a-holes a good lickin, we got kicked off the job together? Sounds good. Ankara definitely has a short temper, although he's less likely to be loud about it. He doesn't talk smack. He just smacks. He's mastered the art of non-verbal communition. :) And it could be Kyras that first introduced him to the Westcrown Firebrands, which he's at least as interested in as a route to getting a regular paycheck as anything else. It's kinda funny, I picked big dumb fighter after reading someone saying they wanted to play a Cleric and someone else saying they wanted to play a Wizard in the recruitment thread, thinking that the initial proposed party sounded light on meatsticks (with Kyras headed into Rogue, soonish). And now I'm in a group with a Monk, Paladin and Fighter. We've got the melee roles pretty well covered, I suppose!
Hey Ankara, we've both worked as hired muscle in Westcrown (as well as both being Chaotic and both having the Westcrown Firebrand trait), you think it's possible we know each other? Maybe we met on a muscle job and developed a friendship from there? That makes sense. Ankara will start out surly and quiet, as the only person he regarded as a friend recently disappeared, so he's just freshly gotten into the whole rabble-rouser network and is still 'finding his footing' so to speak. One plus side to beginning to hang around with this 'bad element' is that he's making some contacts, which means he's more likely to get work as a guard or hired muscle, as opposed to the dockwork he's been doing. His average day is spent trying to make enough coin on the docks to pay for cheap food and a space on the floor of a flophouse. He's not part of any sort of guild or established dock-gang, so he tends to get the absolute dregs of work (hauling nets full of fish to market) and is getting fairly desperate for some sort of 'big score.' If Kyras suffers any sort of prejudice because of race, Ankara will tend to stick up for him and that's one way they could have met, as he's had just about enough of being judged because of his own intimidating eyes. Edited character to reduce equipment (I had used max gold, so he's lost the composite shortbow and now fits into average starting gold). |