Nice list!
Only change I'd say is that Karrdas won't be doing any switch hitting. He's lined up for TWF feats at this point, and his Dexterity sucks.
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The moonshine burned Karrdas' throat as it always did, but that was how he knew that it was the good stuff he drank five years ago. The difference now was that it didn't knock him onto his ass. He nods in thanks to Rabus before turning to take a look around. So many familiar faces, familiar voices, the occasional salutation from those that recognized him... he was not even sure where to begin. "It is good to see you all again," he says to everyone, his voice a loud basso. "Five years of stories for each of us... we're coming up on a good century's worth of them in here! One night alone hardly seems like enough to have it all told. But I doubt any of us will get drunk enough to believe any of those embellishments Beltzer mentioned!"
Whoops, missed that the gameplay thread was open. Hope that entrance was clean, don't want to step on any toes there.
Karrdas had gotten his fair share of odd looks on his way to The Killin' Ground. He could hardly blame them for not recognizing; his transformation after all, had been fairly substantial. While he had always been fairly fit for duty, the Shoanti man's arms were now packed with solid muscle. He had not grown any taller, but he now carried himself as though he were a giant. Gone were his long black locks, and his tan had gotten several shades darker over the years. And of course, there were his tattoos; they were works of art, but their meaning would likely be lost on most of the people in Trunau. But naturally, Rabus had no trouble telling who he was. The barkeep was quick to speak up when Karrdas walked through the door of his establishment. "That you, Karrd?" Rabus said, squinting exaggeratedly, "What in the blazes happened to your hair?" "My head got hot," the Shoanti answered with a grin, running a hand along his smooth crown. "So I shaved it off." "You coulda just put on a damn hat, boy," the bar's proprietor answers, returning the smile. He fills a cup up with some of his signature moonshine and sets it down before Karrdas. "This one's on the house... if you think you can handle it, I mean. If memory serves, you were still hungover when you rode outta here." This time Karrdas showed teeth. "Oh, I can handle it."
Got the alias together. I believe everything meets your specifications.
Mahorfeus' submission here. Just to elaborate on my mention before, in my previous RoW game we made it to the second encounter before everything went kaput. At any rate, this character should be pretty much done. The background is a little shorter than I am used to, but I think it answers all of your questions.
"Of course," Garridan concurs, "You know what they say about things that are too good to be true. So I suppose she wanted something from your lord, then. Either that, or she must really be into older men."
"Fair enough," Garridan replies with a smirk, staring up at the ceiling of his cell. It was not as though there was anywhere better to look. "I haven't exactly got much to do but listen, so please do continue."
"Sounds like she played him like a damn fiddle," Garridan remarks, his tone one of amusement. It was not an entirely unfamiliar sounding story to him. "There's a lot of things a man would do for a fine woman." "So, who was this lord of yours anyway? Some noble, I presume."
"Sounds like my kind of story," Garridan replies, surprised that the man had actually answered. Truth was, it had not even occurred to him to talk to the poor guy. He thinks on the man's words as Trevorl speaks, arms crossed over his chest. As much as he liked kidding around, he could not help but to be genuinely intrigued by their fellow prisoner. "As far as I know? The city's gone to hell. Lots of sick people out there," he answers humorlessly, leaning against the prison wall. "Word on the street was that someone had worked out a formula for some kind of plague treatment. Not really a cure, but I figured it was the next best thing. Some friends tipped me off about it, saying that it would need some rare herbs... herbs they said the Arkonas should have." He made it a point to avoid mentioning who his "friends" were. "As for why we are here, well, I suppose you can already guess that things had not gone to plan. We were never supposed to challenge them, because we were never supposed to get caught." "So answer your question, yeah, I suppose I am. She hasn't always been kind to me, but there's more than a few worthwhile people here."
"I'll have you know that I am a very charming guy," Garridan replies, wagging his eyebrows at the wall. He was sure that Trevorl would get the message. "Besides, maybe she just doesn't know any other way to express her feelings. Women can be like that sometimes." Again, he was mostly talking out of his ass, but he had to keep morale up somehow. He smiled to himself, knowing that if Trevorl had the willpower to bicker, then he was not out of the loop yet. So long as he could keep him talking, he would not have to worry as much about their predicament. They'd be too busy complaining. Perhaps that did not matter much under their circumstances, but it was still something. It was no surprise to him that the idea of staging an escape came up again. Or rather, why they had not already done so. "Maybe because I don't want to leave," he answers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. In truth, he did not even know if he could bust them out, or what they would even do once they got out. And he would never admit it, but in reality, their jailer unsettled him.
Garridan could not recall a time before this week that he had ever seen the inside of a prison cell. There had never really been any reason for him to. Usually things went according to plan for him, and when they did not, with a little bit of improvisation, he'd get off scot-free regardless. He had not thought that this time would be any different. At first, the surprisingly decent food and hot jailer had left him wondering why he had never just let himself get caught before. Of course, that was before he heard the screaming. Things only seemed to go downhill from there. It was a little hard to tell because of the cocky smirk on his face, but Garridan was scared out his mind. Facing the (negative) consequences of his actions was not something he was accustomed to, and failure in general was not something he was not too fond of. Oh, and there was also the implicit possibility that he might never again see the light of day. That is perhaps what terrified him the most. Fortunately, he did have company, and so, he calmed his nerves the only way he knew how. "Y'know, she isn't too bad looking," he says aloud for what must be the thousandth time, "Once you look past the weird crap I mean." |