About Anthony Read“This country might have problems, but as far as I'm concerned it protects the most important thing which all peoples crave: Freedom.” Statistics:
Anthony Read
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AC 19, touch 14, flat-footed 15
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Spd 30 ft.
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Feats
Traits
Drawback – Doubt: Anthony has dubious faith in the circumstances of his life and fears his every decision is being manipulated by a mysterious demon his father made a deal with.
Racial Traits
Maw or Claw (Horns): Choose between a bite attack (1d6) or two claw attacks (1d4). (Anthony instead gains a gore attack which is otherwise identical to the bite attack)
Skills [Total Skill Points: 6]
Bluff -3 (+6 when convincing others of a lie) [0 ranks]
Languages
Other Gear
Footprints Book [2 GP] (1 lb.) - This book contains hundreds of hand-drawn images of the footprints of common animals and humanoids. By consulting the book for 5 minutes while studying a set of tracks, you can attempt a DC 10 Knowledge (local) check for humanoids or a DC 10 Knowledge (nature) check for animals to identify the animal or humanoid that made the tracks. Chalk (10) [1 SP] (- lb.) - For drawing on stone surfaces and making marks. Parchment (10) [2 GP] (- lb.) - For making letters to send home. Kit, Magus's [ Total Weight: 46/50 lbs. (Light Load)
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Age: 21
Appearance:
Anthony read appears to be more demonic than some half-demons even though he lacks any actual demon blood. Standing tall at over six feet, Anthony has trouble blending into a crowd in the Andoren Country. Also somewhat unusual for a Tiefling, he has manifested great, curling ram horns, patches of ruddy scales which shed, and a thin prehensile tail longer than his arm. His eyes too betray his fiendish nature as a pair of sunken cat-like yellow orbs. In order to keep his skin and tail covered, he wears a long brown cloak and hood, and long sleeves and gloves. But his horns are far too large to cover, so he wears his hood beneath them. Despite being so ferociously deformed, he carries himself somewhat awkwardly, like he's always a bookish librarian at a never ending cocktail party. This downplays his intimidating visage into a merely harmless strangeness. This does not mean his is ineloquent, far from it. He simply has a hard time gaining peoples' trust.
Personality:
"People are afraid of me. I cannot blame them, i'm probably the closest thing to a monster most people will ever see. And by my power, I intend to keep it that way." Careful and Headstrong at the same time, Anthony Read sees himself as a sort of guardian of the common folk. His father filled his heart and mind with visions of becoming a noble hero and for the most part, he keeps to his father's molding. It's a hard for him to gain the general population's affection, but he is far more interested in making sure of their safety than in glory and awards. He reads about old philosophical and religious precepts (especially in terms of ethics) because they fascinate him and motivate him. He dreams of a utopia for all peoples to live in harmony. He constantly questions whether or not his decisions are ethically correct, and it sometimes consumes all of his thoughts, hampering his actions.
Backstory:
“Papa, tell me a story! One with Knights and Dragons and Wizards in it!” the boy pleaded. It had been a long day at sea, and James Read was tired, but he loved his little boy. “Okay young sir, but we’re going to bed right after! Now let me see... a long, long time ago, there lived a great hero named Aroden…” The stories would continue nearly every night, and James, now a retired wizard, pulled out his old tomes and extracted the fun bits from them, fueling his son’s imagination teaching him right from wrong with stories of noble warriors from ages past.
I found myself following Tabrik through the woods again. “Anthony,” he said, “you remember how there Ned Morrison ended up dead wandering through these woods? Any chance we can turn back and avoid the thing wot did him instead of running toward it?” Without missing a beat I said, “Aroden teaches that no problem can be solved by avoiding it. One must confront the issue or it will haunt one forever.” Tabrik grinned and replied, “That’s the spirit!” he tilted an eyebrow up at me right after and said, “But I’ve never known you to be the religious sort Anthony.” I replied, “I’m not. I just like reading.” -------
I knew the werewolf couldn’t have gone very far. While we were walking we happened upon a steaming pile of feces which might have been left by a man, albeit a very large one, if not for the fingers protruding from it. I inquired, “He’s slowing down, isn’t he?” Tabrik poked through the feces with a stick. I wasn’t a tracker, but that was fresh s#%+ if I had ever seen it. He looked up at me sardonically and huffed, “No, he’s just dropped a fat one while running at a full lope. Of course he’s slowed down!” I tried to refrain from shouting back at him. I huffed, “All right then, O Master Hunter, why don’t we keep our voices down so as not to alert him?” Some bushes about three yards to my right rustled faintly. I drew my sword, paced carefully toward the bushes and murmured, “You wanna dance? Let’s dance.” --------
A beat passes, before Anthony says, “No, Father. And neither can you.”
I tried to look as menacing as I could. I read that if you show a predator fear, it will attack you and probably kill you. I’d like to say that when the half-man half-wolf thing leaped out of the bushes at me, I stood my ground. But the truth is I’m not sure if the sound I made was a battlecry or the frightened shriek of a little girl. I had to give Tabrik some credit though, instead of shouting “Look out!” or something silly like that he immediately loosed an arrow at the thing. It didn’t score, but the cover fire gave me some breathing room. I twisted away from the werewolf then began my attack. I side-stepped around him and whispered, “Electrum” and felt energy crackle around my left hand. He was already wounded and bloody. I found the source of the bleeding and quickly jabbed my finger at it, and I was rewarded with a grunt of pain and the acrid smell of burnt flesh and hair. I thrust my sword into the base of his jaw. It didn’t take. The Werewolf swung at me, knocking into my armor, and I hoped that my ribs weren’t bruised. “Don’t move, Horace! I won’t miss this time.” Both me and the lycanthrope snapped our attention to the huntsman… ---------
Almost three years ago I left my home. I was angry with my parents, my father mostly. They both kept too many secrets from me. Being part demon isn’t all bad, but I sometimes doubt whether I actually have a choice in the matter of what I’m doing. Like my whole life is being manipulated by some malevolent power. Killing that werewolf was one of those times. Tabrik was mollified. The werewolf, Horace, had been his friend several years before apparently. He taught the kid to track and that he was like a little brother. Tabrikcouldn’t loose another arrow at his friend, and the werewolf took advantage of Tabrik’s compassion. I was ready though, and skipped out of the way with ease. The fight didn’t last much longer and I put him down with my rapier. Tabrik spoke his eyes deadened, “I know you needed the coin Anthony, but let me bury him. I’ll make it up to you. You can stay in my house for a while.” I refrained from sighing and instead recited, “‘The only cure for grief is to grieve’. Bury him. I’ll find other work…” ------- Anthony ambled around the bustling Sitting Duck scanning the room for his contact. He found him dining on some mystery meat, presumably venison, a slice of bread, and a tankard of mead. He approached the hunter, Anthony knew by reputation, and asked, “Tabrik Splint?” The dwarf dining alone turned up a solitary eyebrow and replied, “Aye, that be my name. Can’t say that I’ve seen you ‘round these parts though. State your name and business.” I had to speak a little louder over the din of the tavern-goers, “Anthony Read. I was told by a Sheriff Baleson you might have some work for me in the department of the local kobold problem.” Tabrik sat back in his chair and poured Anthony a drink, “Oh, we’ve got much bigger problems here than kobolds...”
We arrived back in Falcon’s Hollow and reported back to the Sheriff. “Report” is a bit of an exaggerated expression, though, we stopped by at his home and chewed the proverbial fat for a while before Tabrik got to the werewolf crusade progress. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or saddened when he told Baleson that the killer werewolf was his one-time pupil without batting an eye. We buried any proof he was dead other than Tabrik's word, so I only got paid a meal ticket for my trouble. I didn't mind too much, these people had been trod on by Thuldrin Kreed for so long, they hadn't very much left to give me for work they actually needed done. When he was done I inquired Baleson, “Does anyone have any work for me? I can always go back to logging but I don’t feel I have the main strength to continue for very long.” Baleson chuckled, “Funny you should ask. Laurel is putting together an expedition...
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