We, the Fans, Salute Thee
Race: Race with no higher than a +1 LA You may buy off the +1 later
Gender: Blue, pink, or none as the case may be
Class: ECL 4
Team role: What is your purpose? What makes you useful?
Personality / Physical Description: What does your character look like? How does s/he think?
Background: What events shaped your character? Any significant people or places?
Why are you signing up, volunteering, or being forced to fight?: Why did you sign the two-year agreement to fight as a gladiator?
Stats are generated by rolling 21d8, dropping the highest and two lowest rolls
Equipment consists of ONE magicral item up to ECL 4 gold and other armor and weapons are non-masterwork. Other items will be purchased after the first battle
Link to stat rolls
Name: Catarina Dunsidane
Build: Cobra Strike VariantMonk 6/ Fighter 2/ Dervish 2 // Warblade 10
Traits: Quick & Skinny
Poor Reflexes - Despite all of Catarina's training, Catarina has never liked surprises and can be caught slightly flat-footed sometimes. See RP sample for example
Shaky -This flaw grows out of the first (see RP for cause)
Party Role: Front-Liner, Distractor, Voice of Reason
HP:105 (Warblade10d12+Con Modifier40-Trait (Quick)10)
Intiative: +12 (+8 Dex, +4 Improved Int.)
AC: 28 (+5 Armor, +3 Shield, +8 Dex, +1 Deflection, +1 Dervish AC Bonus) [+2 Dodge vs. one opponent] Touch:25 Flat: 28
Base Attack/Grapple: +10/+13
Special: Battle Clarity (Reflex Saves), Weapon Aptitude, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Battle Ardor (Critical Confirmation), Battle Cunning (Damage), Evasion, Still Mind, Ki Strike (Magic), Slow Fall (30ft), Purity of Body, Dervish Dance 1/day, Movement Mastery, Slashing Blades, Fast Movement (+5ft)
Saves: Fort +11 // Reflex +12 // Will +6
Abilities: Str: 16 Dex: 26 (+1 level, G.o.D +4) Con: 18 Int: 12 (+1 level) Wis: 10 Cha: 14
Skills: Balance +23, Concentration +22, Diplomacy +20, Escape Artist +23, Hide +8, Jump +10, Knowledge (History) +2, Knowledge (Local) +2, Move Silently +8, Perform (Dance) +19, Perform (Sing) +19, Ride +9, Tumble +20
Languages: Common, Elven
Feats: Human FeatExotic Weapon Prof. (Katana), Level 1 FeatExotic Armor Prof. (G.T.C), Level 3Combat Expertise, Level 6Weapon Focus (Katana), Level 9Versatile Performer, Monk 1Dodge, Monk 2Mobility, Warblade 5Improved Initiative, Monk 6Spring Attack, Fighter 1Weapon Specialization (Katana), Fighter 2Improved Disarm, Warblade 9Unnerving Calm, Flaw (Poor Reflexes)Skill Focus (Concentration), Flaw (Shaky)Improved Combat Expertise
Equipment: +2 Defending Katana, Quarterstaff, +4 Gnome Twist Cloth, +2 Buckler of Arrow Deflection, Circlet of Persuasion, Mithral Bells, Gloves of Dexterity +4, Shiftweave, Healing Belt, [Sandals] of Agile Leaping, Ring of Sustenance, Ring of Protection +1, Heward's Handy Haversack, Potion of Cure Serious Wounds (x4), Potion of Jump (x2), and several mundane items
Catarina stands a tallish 5'9" and has the physique of a belly dancer. Many men have often lost themselves in Catarina's slender but muscular legs, belly button pierced with a small emerald orb that moves gently to the seductive sway of her hips, her tight abdomen, and her soft looking skin; often to the chagrin of wives, girlfriends, and mistresses. When men finally raise their eyes to her face, they are often caught staring into Catarina's deep sea blue eyes and notice that they have enough depth and serenity to match the color. Catarina's raven black hair is pulled into a loose ponytail that still falls to the small of her back.
Catarina can be usually seen wearing long skirts and her twist cloth. They seem somewhat worn but well-kept. On her forearms are long lengths of cloth which cover up the scars and molted skin beneath. She never takes the arm cloth off in public and rarely in private. Upon her waist lays a katana, Catarina's weapon of choice. The scabbard and the hilt of the katana are a deep shade of maroon. The blade is always kept razor sharp.
Catarina is a quiet, level-headed woman. Catarina almost never resorts to violence or intimidation. Instead, she prefers listens before she reacts to any situation. When she does speak, Catarina is honest and polite, telling people exactly what needs to be said, like her father. Catarina loves helping other people, claiming it is her job to help those in need. She never reacts harshly or violently to any situation. She prefers to sit quietly and listen to what is happening and react upon conclusions she draws. Even then, Catarina doesn't like resorting to violence. She often gives opponents a chance to walk away or surrender. When pushed into battle, Catarina uses her katana with deadly efficiency. She does not gloat nor does she mock her opponents. Catarina prefers honorable combat, often sacrificing tactical advantages (i.e. Flanking, opponent caught Flat-Footed, etc.) for an honorable blow. Catarina honors any offer of surrender, even if she knows her enemy has betrayal in mind, claiming that an opponent who surrenders has a chance at redemption.
A Beginning with Love Lost and Love Gained
"You remind me of your mother. Strong-willed, smart, and stubborn as a mule"
- Damien Dunsidane
Catarina Dunsidane was born in the feudal kingdom of K'haval to Damien, a blacksmith, and Juliana, a seamstress. The night that Catarina was born, a raging blizzard stormed outside. As the wind and snow made the house, which is little more than a shack, creek and moan with strain, Juliana struggled through child birth. Seeing that something was going wrong, DMien kneeled next to his laboring wife and began to praying to the gods, begging them to help his wife deliver the child and if someone was to die that night, let it be him. But apparently the gods had other plans.
A few minutes later, Juliana lets out a cry of pain, exultation, and ecstasy as Catarina was finally born. Damien was overjoyed at the birth of his first child but the joy was soon tempered by loss. Exhausted from childbirth, Juliana slowly slipped away. Juliana lived for two more nights, Damien never leaving her side, until she finally slipped into the afterlife. When the weather lessened, Damien buried his beloved wife and, with tears pouring from his eyes and sorrow weighing heavy on his heart, vowed to raise their newborn daughter to be a great person, just like her mother.
The Silent Dance of Love
"Your mind is your strongest trait. A well spoken word or a beautifully woven dance can turn aside even the sharpest of blades"
The early years of life were a blur for Catarina. Because her father was often busy working from sun up to sun down to make a life for him and Catarina, Catarina was watched and tended to by Serena, Juliana's best friend and, eventually, Damien's second wife. Serena was a kind woman with the sing voice of an angel. With her voice, she could quiet any crying baby with her soothing voice. Some of Catarina's earliest memories are of Serena singing to help her drift off to sleep.
When Catarina finally learned how to walk and talk, she showed an insatiable curiosity. Catarina particularly loved watching her father working at his forge, despite the constant, if half-hearted, reprimands to stay out of the forge so she won't get hurt. But whenever Damien found Catarina in the forge, he would often laugh, scoop her up into his arms, and spend time with her until Serena came to find Catarina.
As Catrina continued to grow up, Catarina found her love for dancing. From the time she was four, Catarina would always dance whenever she heard music and even sometimes when there was none. Those who saw Catarina dance often claimed that her gift for dancing was something special. By the time Catarina was twelve, people claimed that her dancing was so beautiful, that someday people would come from far and wide to see Catarina dance. Whenever there was a festival, the townspeople would often ask Damien to allow Catarina to participate in the festival dances. But to Catarina, there was more to dancing than the movements involved. To Catarina, dancing was her ultimate form of expressing herself and helped her to insulate herself from the world. Even though she was young, Catarina knew that the outside world wasn't as simple as her father tried to make it seem. So whenever Catarina danced, she knew her father swelled with pride and seemed to be happy for a while. So Catarina danced for her father, her symbol of love and protection
Dark Clouds on the Horizon
"She has the gait of an angel. When she dances, you feel as though you will never see anything so elegant again. But you still walk away, knowing you've seen something special"
- Unnamed spectator
Time went on peacefully for Catarina. Her father tutored her at home since girls weren't allowed to go to school an her father claimed that "No child of mine is allowed to be dumb." Catarina's father taught her reading, writing, arithmetic, and philosophy, among other subjects. But the most important lessons that Catarina learned was concentration and self-discipline. Damien constantly preached these two lessons to Catarina and she quickly took it to heart. Catarina used these two lessons to better her dancing as well as to learn swordsmanship that her father taught her, which was also illegal.
By the time that Catarina was seventeen, she had grown into a beautiful, intelligent woman. Men and women, rich and poor, serf and noble alike, came from all around K'haval to see the beautiful, young dancer who entranced and captivated audiences into silent awe. Soon enough, you couldn't find anyone in the kingdom who hadn't seen, much less heard of, Catarina. Catarina had many gentlemen suitors who asked for her hand in marriage, but all of them were turned away. Dejected, many of them wouldn't ask again. One suitor, however, just wouldn't take no for an answer. The suitor's name was Zanthal Qualor.
Zanthal Qualor was the youngest son of the feudal lord of K'haval. Zanthal was a young, pudgy man of twenty-three years and, like his father, had cruel demeanor that was only matched by his appetite for food and women. Zanthal had a self-centered demeanor, taking what he wanted because he was a prince. When Zanthal first laid his cruel, hallow eyes upon Catarina, true to his spoiled self-centered demeanor, immediately wanted Catarina for a mistress. Zanthal approached Catarina, full of ego and the assumption that Catarina would practically throw herself at him because he was prince. But to Zanthal's surprise, and anger, Catarina didn't give herself to him; in fact, Zanthal thought she had barely noticed him. Fueled by this perceived slight, Zanthal decided to talk to Damien, assuming that he'd have "better sense" an give Catarina to him.
Long and Lonely Days
"All I remember were those walls. Immaculate, white, and they easily caged me, body and soul, away from everything and everyone. Those were some of the worse days of my life.""
It was three months shy of Catarina's birthday when her life changed forever. Catarina was walking back from one of her late summer evening walks when she spotted a trio of horses outside her father's home. Not knowing what the horses implied, she went past the horses and into the house. When Catarina walked into the main room, she saw Damien and Serena sitting across from a short, pudgy young man, Zanthal, and two heavily armored men. Everyone fell silent when Catarina walked in and for a few moments nobody spoke. Finally, the silence was broken by Damien and the conversation continued.
Apparently they had been talking for sometime and Zanthal had been trying to convince Damien to give Catarina to him in exchange for a tithe, but Damien was refusing. Zanthal steadily became more belligerent, claiming that Damein had no right to say no to him. The conversation steadily devolved into an argument, Zanthal bellowing that he would throw Damien in prison for denying him what he wanted. Damien, who wanted nothing more than to slap Zanthal, steadfastly refused to give Catarina to the boy. Zanthal became enraged and ordered his guards to take Damien and Serena into custody and forcefully took Catarina with him back to the capital city of K'haval, the royal city of Halas.
The first days in the capital were a nightmare for Catarina. Forcibly separated from her family, Catarina would often cry for hours, wondering what had happened to her family. The only contact with the outside world that Catarina had was Zanthal, a chambermaid who seemed to be mute, and an crony old matron who seemed to disapprove of Catarina. Catarina felt alone, abandoned, and imprisoned within the luxurious bedchamber that she was occupying. Whenever Catarina wasn't crying, she would either pace around the room or attempt to meditate. But try as she might to clear her head, her thoughts would almost inevitably drift back to her family and what Zanthal had possibly done with them. Whenever Zanthal visited Catarina, he would try to seduce her and she would ignore the prince until the young man would get angry and storm out of the room.
This petty game between Catarina and Zanthal went on for little over a fortnight and Zanthal was beginning to think that Catarina was incorrigible until a thought finally got through to the thick-witted Zanthal. That night when he went to see Catarina, he started by playing the game they had always played. But about half way through the game, Zanthal began to hint at Catarina's family. Although she didn't show it, Catarina was extremely worried about her family. After a few minutes of feigned disinterest, Catarina finally relented and talked to the prince.
For nearly a week, the prince claimed that Catarina's family was not under array but in fact they had been released mere hours they had gotten back to Halas and her father had finally relented and accepted Zanthal's tithe in exchange for Catarina. Catarina was relieved at the notion that her family was safe but she was heartbroken when she was td that she had been given to Zanthal. Believing his story to be true, Catarina resigned herself to the life of a mistress.
A Light in the Darkness
"Never forget the faces of your family. They are the source of your strength and will." - Vimak
Catarina had been in the city of Halas for nearly a year before Catarina's life changed again. Until that point, Catarina's life had been one of loneliness and misery, dancing day in and day out for the wretched prince and his minions, listening to and ignoring their hoots and catcalls, and occasionally having to sexually please the disgusting prince. Life was not being kind to Catarina and it began to show in her dancing. Her dancing began to lose the passion and sensuality that Catarina had been known for and Catarina herself didn't feel the same passion that she had only a year ago. Life began to slowly crush Catarina's spirit beneath a torrent of misery, loneliness, and resignation, bending and twisting Catarina slowly into someone she wasn't. But then one day, during one of Catarina's lonely walk through the imperial gardens, she met the man of her life a the savior of her soul.
The man's name was Vimak Pallium. He and his fathers before him had served the feudal lord for nearly three hundred years, serving only the throne and not just the family who currently held the crown. Vimak was a bastard half-elf who had slowly risen through the ranks to take his father's place as the protector of the king. Vimak was nearing a century of age but he still had excellent features. Vimak's pale gold hair was pulled back into a long braid and his deep green eyes sparkled with life. His physique was one of a fencer, all lean muscle and whip-like reflexes. But what made him interesting was his personality. Where the prince was cruel and petty, Vimak was kind and helpful. Vimak was all that the prince wasn't and more.
The night that Catarina met Vimak, Catarina saw him meditating under a lotus tree. At first Catarina was hesitant to approach the lovely and mysterious man until he opened his almond shaped eyes and spotted Catarina and waved her over to sit with him. at first, Catarina was too shy and ashamed to approach the mysterious man but before she could decide to walk away, Vimak walked over to Catarina and introduced himself. Catarina and Vimak talked into the wee hours of the night until Catarina had to go to the prince. From that day, Catarina and Vimak would often meet in the gardens and talk for hours at a time, often well into the night. They soon realized thT they were meant for each other but status and station kept them from truly being together.
Time passed slowly for Catarina and Vimak and their secret love. Whenever Catarina and Vimak were together, it seemed as of time didnt matter to themparting only when circumstances forced them away from each other. During the time they shared, Catarina and Vimak shared everything, both material and spiritual. Catarina and Vimak wanted to do nothing more than to run from Halas and take up living elsewhere under different names and new lives. They had even began planning their flight from the city until fate intervened once again.
Life is Pain
It had been nearly two years since Catarina and Vimak had first met and the world around the city of Halas was changing. Rumors circulated amongst the commoners (and a few of the noble circles) of discontent and angry people, spurned and persecuted by the feudal lords, rising up against crown to bring about a new era to the lands. Stories of protests being violently put down by soldiers and other atrocities being committed. Tired of the oppressive rule of the ruling class, the whispers and rumors quickly spread and gained momentum among the common people and the people began to organize into larger resistance that slowly began to undermine the king.
Unfortunately, the fuedal king reacted in the typical fashion of a tyrant, he laid down a heavy hand. He ordered that his military put down any protests with force and to execute anyone who tried to incite protests, believing that the people would be pummeled into submission. Over the course of several weeks, the military killed a couple score of peoe and arrested several times more than that. But instead of quelling the movement, it only made it clearer to the people that they had to rise up. Even amongst the military, doubt and second thoughts were common. Desertion wasn't uncommon and some of the soldiers secretly helped the movement, including Vimak. Even though Vimak's ancestral position's loyalty is to the crown, Vimal's heart and soul was behind the people. Vimak secretly helped organize several protests, help move several famies, and even organized raids on military supplies to equip the protesters.
The fighting continued for several months, both sides scoring minor victories with no real clear cut winner to the fighting. The feudal lord grew steadily more and more unstable, believing there to be assassins in every dark corner and dissenters among his military leaders. He would execute anyone he believed to be in connection with the protesters with no trial and swift brutality. The dark clouds of doom were squarely over K'haval with no signs of leaving. The blood of protesters, soldiers, and civilians flowed in the streets, turning rivers into crimson mockeries. Catarina watched as the land steadily fell into chaos from a detached distance that being held in Halas could only provide. But then one day, all of that changed.
Catarina and Vimak were on one of their many night time walks when soldiers approached them and ordered Vimak and Catarina to follow them. Vimak, the soldier that he was, obliged and followed them with Catarina following behind Vimak and the soldiers. The soldiers led the way to the royal chambers, where the feudal lord and his sons were waiting for them. The soldiers led Vimak to stand in front of the feudal lord while telling Catarina that she had to stay off to the side. Just as Catarina was about to say something, Vimak cut her off and asked her to do what they say. At that, Catarina shut up and stood off to the side.
It turns out that the feudal lord had found out through several protesters turned informants that Vimak had been secretly helping the resistance since the beginning of the fighting and was in fact one of the major leaders of the fighting. Outraged at this notion, the feudal lord wanted to make an example of Vimak to all of the people of K'haval. Vimak was taken into custody where he was bound, tortured, and malnourished for nearly a fortnight in an attempt to make Vimak reveal the plans of the resistance. Vimak only laughed and gave witty retorts until he started screaming again from the torture. Finally, when the feudal lord realized that Vimak wouldn't give up anything, he pubically executed Vimak in spectacular and horrific fashion.
Of course all of this devastated Catarina. She had been ripped away from her love by the same people who ripped her from her family, the people who destroyed families and towns at the whim of a mad king, the people who had no remorse for their actions and would gladly bathe in the blood of the innocence. The lowest point of all of this was when Vimak was finally executed. Catarina was there when Vimak had been tarred and feathered, lashed, before finally being hanged, drawn and quartered. Tears flowed freely from Catarina's eyes for days before she finally got a hold of herself and escaped from Halas.
Catarina traveled for several days with grief and heartache weighing heavily on her heart and mind. Her days were spent walking as if in a daze and her nights crying herself to sleep mourning Vimak's death. No matter how hard Catarina tried to ease the pain, the mental wounds were always fresh, cutting her deeply. Days dragged into weeks, with each day being even more unbearable than the last. The heartache and grief were swallowing Catarina's psyche little by little until one day, Catarina had had enough and wished to die.
Catarina was encamped slightly away from the path that she had been walking for nearly a fortnight. The morning had dawned with a heavy grey overcast, threatening rain. Catarina had just finished eating what seemed to her was her last meal when she knelled down in the small clearing she had made for her encampment, her katana in her hands and Vimak on her mind. After a few moments of hesitation and sadness, Catarina drew her blade and pressed the edge of the blade to her stomach in preparation to kill herself when her life changed once again.
Just as Catarina's eyes closed in preparation for death, Catarina's mind wandered back to Vimak once again. But instead of seeing Vimak as he was in death, Catarina's mind saw Vimak standing before her in a silk robe of pure white and a soft, warm smile on his face. Catarina's hand hesitates just before she draws the blade across her skin and Vimak's smile got a little wider. He took a step towards her and gently placed his hands on Catarina's shoulders. Catarna was quite surprised when she felt Vimak's strong, gentle hands on her shoulders but she dared not to open her eyes, for fear that it was all a dream and opening her eyes would cause Vimak to disappear.
For several long moments, Catarina just stared "stared" at Vimak, unable to move or speak. Vimak kneeled down in front of her and leaned in for a kiss. But Catarina turned away and Vimak nodded his head in understanding as he wrapped Catarina up in a loving embrace. Cataina could feel Vimak's warm engulf her and she silently began to weep. Vimak gently sushed her as he wiped away her tears. After what seemed to be an eternity, Vinak finally broke the embrace, standing up slowly with a touch of sadness touching his face. Vimak turns to walk away and pauses for a moment before turning back to Catarina to say "I love you. I shall wait for you. Even if it's until the end of time." Then Vimak and fades into sunlight.
Catarina didn't move for several long minutes, her mind a whirl of thoughts. In a flash of insight, Catarina realized that Vimak didn't want her to mourn his death, but instead to honor his memories, his ideals, his life. When Catarina finally opened her eyes, they were free of mournful tears and had gained a new spark of life. Catarina sheathed her katana, packed up her few possessions , and set out to honor Vimak's memory.
For the next several months, Catarina's life was consumed by war. Day in and day out, Catarina was busy plotting attacks, training recruits, fighting against the military, and running when necessary. Catarina had her fair share of victories as well a fair share of defeats. Whenever Catarina had to fight, she fought with beautiful and deadly grace, fluidity, and passion.
The End of a War
The civil war in K'haval had spread throughout The land like a wildfire, sweeping up people and destroying towns, livelihoods, and everything caught in the middle. People died by the scores, both sides dedending their beliefs and striking out at those who would speak out against them. Both sides had their shares of victories, defeats, and stand-stills. After nearly two years, neither side had any idea if they were winning but both sides knew something had to change or this war would never end.
Just as the second winter of the war was beginning to set in, the rebels hatched a plan they believed would change the tide of the war in their favor. They began plotting a siege of the major trade city of Dumas. They planned on disrupting the trade caravans that traveled into and out of the city in an attempt to slowly choke the life out of Dumas until the city surrendered and gave the rebels a major advantage in the war. Catarina was one of the major planners of the siege, laying out where to set up ambush points, encampment spots, and a multitude of other subtle details. When the leaders finished laying out the plan, they were all confident that it would work.
But alas, real life greatly differed from the plans. Shortly after the rebels began their siege of Dumas, the council of Dumas began to fight back. They sent out caravans that were loaded not with supplies but with explosive materials that would be set off by the drivers, killing or maiming the rebels that had seized the caravan. This tactic, coupled with changes in tactics by the rebels and the council of Dumas, caused the siege to drag on for nearly the whole winter. Finally one day, the rebels changed their tactics and attacked the city of Dumas. It was nearly a week before the rebels breached the city walls and when they finally did, they believed victory to be at hand. Unfortunately, the breach was a trap and many rebels were killed and Catarina was severely wounded (See RP sample). The attack was beaten back, leaving the rebel movement crippled and Catarina out of the fight with severe injuries.
After the failed siege of Dumas, the civil war changed very quickly. The military of K'haval quickly pressed the advantage against the rebels by attacking and eradicating many rebel strongholds, fracturing the rebel leadership and destroying the rebel movement. Shortly after the rebel movement was destroyed, the leaders of K'haval put out orders to capture any remaining rebels and throw them in jail for questioning and execution. Catarina, despite her grievous wounds, fled with other rebels to escape persecution and left K'haval swiftly in the early spring.
**Bonus RP Sample** Writing Sample: **Warning** Contains mild content (sensual [not sexual] references ; slightly bloody images)
Catarina slowly rises from her cot, rubbing sleep and tiny ice crystals from her hair and eyebrows. Catarina runs a finger over the choker that she always wears, quietly thanking her old friend Arianna for giving it to her. Despite the fact it is bone-chilling cold in the region, Catarina rarely notices the cold. She rises from her cot, her beautiful nude body stretching her body to loosen up the kinks and knots that she has acquired in the recent fighting and weather. She goes over to her small chest at the base of her cot, opening it up with a click of a buckle.
Inside of the chest are her battle wraps and a couple skirts in the base, and her katana strapped to the underside of the top. The skirts and wraps are slightly torn in some places and have been restitched in other places. The edges of her clothing are frayed from brutal and unnatural use of combat. By contrast, Catarina's katana seems to be in pristine condition. It seems freshly polished and well tended to.
Catarina pulls out the battle wraps first. She places the beginning of the wrap on the left side of her ribs and begins wrapping it around herself. She makes sure it is almost completely form fitting to her body, showing off the curve of her breasts, sloping down to her toned naval and down to her hips. Catarina then pulls the black skirt from the trunk and wraps it high on her hips. She pulls her belt on, tightening it so the skirt and the wrap won't come undone. Catarina unlatches the katana from the underside of the trunk and buckles it to the belt.
Couple hours later...
Sounds and scents fill the air. Where there had been the smell of cooking food that morning, it has been replaced by the burning smell of flesh. The coppery smell and taste of blood tinge the air around Catarina. Screams of wounded and dying soldiers rang out over the battlefield. Death fills the air, reaching out and touching every living creature on the battlefield, driving some mad, some scared, some excited. Catarina felt none of those; she is lost in the flow of battle.
Catarina seems to carve a swath through the enemy line. Crimson blood stains the bright, sharp edge of her katana. Spatters of blood and new tears have appeared on her battle wraps. Catarina noticed none of it. No pain, no fear, no regret, Catarina only knew the flow of battle. Her katana flashes and dips from side to side, parrying enemy attacks and taking hands, throats, stomaches and even a leg. The blood of the defeated enemies seeps into the snow covered tundra, tinging the white snow pink. Catarina steadily moves forward, her fellow soldiers following close behind her. They had fractured the enemy line. Catarina and her allies push forward into the city that the enemy had held.
"Slow it down," Catarina says as they approach the outskirts. "Regroup and prepare for close-quarters combat. Watch out for archers." Catarina flicks her katana to the side. The blood that was on the blade flew off and splattered to snow covered road into the town. Catarina quickly inspects the katana for any defections on the blade but, not surprisingly, there were none. "Everyone ready?" Catarina asks, looking around at her fellow soldiers. They all nod. "Lets go. Fan out."
Catarina walks with her katana gripped in her hands, ready for an attack. For a few minutes, it seems that the enemy had fled. However, the hairs on the back of Catarina's neck begin to stand on end. Something's not right... some part of Catarina's mind warns her. Catarina's eyes flick around the street, looking into the broken and crumbling buildings for anything. She doesn't spot anything. But something continues to nag at her.
Catarina's eyes turn to a set of small barrels standing outside what might have been a general store at one time. The building was pock-marked with bullet holes. The windows had been shattered, giving the building a ghostly look. Cataraina slowly approaches the building, wary of a surprise attack. She looks into the building and saw nothing. Catarina turns away from the window, when her internal danger alarm starts screaming in her ears. She turns to a building across the street, looking for what is setting off the internal alarm. Just then, a archer pops out from nowhere and fires a flaming arrow, right at the barrels in front of her. A flash of insight hits Catarina and she throws her arms up to cover her head.
Fire explodes from the barrels; the barrels had apparently held a explosive liquid. The shock-wave of the explosion sent Catarina, who was a mere foot away, flying back a couple feet. Catarina lands in a sprawl, face up and seemingly broken. Catarina had managed to hold onto her katana in one of her hands. Catarina's ears rang with a single, high-pitched buzz that seemingly blocked out all noise. Catarina's equilibrium had been thrown all to hell.
Catarina tries to move her arms to she could at least sit up. Her arms don't respond. Astonished at that, Catarina twists her head to look at her arms. They were a mangle of fresh blood, burns. Fractured bones, and pieces of wooden shrapnel peak out from her skin. Catarina stares at the wounds That's wierd.... It doesn't even hurt Catarina looks down at her upper body. Blood had began to flow from several shrapnel wounds and her arms are deeply burned and mangled Catarina just can't understand any of it.
Catarina's allies were in chaos. The enemy had surrounded them on three sides and began pressing them back. Many bodies littered the street, all dead or dying. Many of Catarina's allies had thrown their weapons down and began fleeing. Suddenly, Catarina felt something reach underneath her arms and began to drag her away. Catarina can't see who is dragging her. Her vision began to blacken around the edges. The initial shock of the explosion began to wear off, which causes pain to begin trickling in. Catarina begins to black out. "I feel..." Catarina whispers through the pain. Her body was beginning to feel the pain and agony. But Catarina only notices one thing. "I feel.... cold." And Catarina blacks out.
Don't mess with this guy or his mortal High Priest
Natural 20's: 26 Natural 1's: 15
Last edited by Cloudpiroth; 06-13-2014 at 01:58 PM.
Character Name: Alejandro D. Viago
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Class: Sorcerer 4
Team Role: Lovely Party Face - Buffer/Battlefield Control - Did I mention lovely face?
Self Absorbed wouldn't begin to describe Alejandro. His main focus in life is.. well him and his well kept person. Every other moment Alejandro is making sure his person is impeccable and well groomed. The only thing Alejandro cares about more than his looks is making other people realize how beautiful and wonderful he is. It is not unusual for Alejandro to spend an extra moment or two admiring his reflection on a surface. If it makes him more likely to be loved and or more beautiful Alejandro will likely seek it out. If it has any chance of marring his exquisite person or endangering his noble name then Alejandro will make all attempts to avoid the circumstance. Even in his state of self.. absorption, Alejandro knows that in order to become more beautiful and more renowned he must dirty his perfectly manicured hands with the lower filth of the world. But that is why he has taken it upon himself to master the arcane arts. Surely through his efforts at excelling in beautifying the practice of arcane can Alejandro better help the world understand his passion and his debonaire all without getting his baby seal leather boots dirty!
Alejandro is a slender human roughly about 5'10" and precisely 145 pounds if Alejandro's weight measurements are correct. (And why wouldn't they be?) His face is angular and his jaw well defined with a set of perfectly white and unmarred straight teeth. His eyes gaze out at onlookers and more importantly himself and reveal their deep jade hue. Ebony hair as smooth as silk slides down the sides of his face in neatly trimmed fashion to stop just above his neck. When there is work to be done Alejandro often ties his hair back in a pony tail. His handsome face is accentuated by his meticulously crafted physique. Months of grueling diet and belittling.. what do they call it.. exercise have honed Alejandro's body into a temple dedicated to all that is beautiful. Thanks to various lotions and creams, Alejandro's skin is soft and sports a lightly golden brown tan evenly across his body.
For clothing and apparel Alejando always strives to look his best no matter the circumstance. Often times Alejandro prefers to wear the robe of caster, but marked with his own twist. The edges of his flowing rose red robes are marked with sewn green lotus flowers. The silver trimmed collar raises high behind his neck and comes around in a sharp V cut at his chest. His feet are adorned by exotic black silken socks and protected by black seal skin boots polished to a perfect shine. His hands sport supple white leather gloves with a single pearl inlaid on the top of each hand with a spiral black floral design surrounding it. His waist is cinched by a regal yellow sash inlaid with ruby colored silken patterns. To complete his exotic person, Alejandro always wears a fresh flower in his hair to pass on to a fair maiden should he come across one in his travels. What better way to spread the tales of his majesty and beauty than on the tongues of love struck maidens whose hearts quake as he walks by.
Alejandro was born into the world beautifully. Or at least that is how he would like to have people beleive it. In reality, Alejandro was born the same way most babes are born, crying and squirming. His parent's were both bards of some reknown who worked as traveling actors. Both his parent's were exceptionally vain and always worried about keeping their appearence flawless for the audience. This was particularly scarring for the young Alejandro as his parents seemed to spend more time on themselves than on him. No matter how hard he worked or what he accomplished his parent's seemed to only acknowledge his uglyness or his filthy habits.
This emotional torment slowly began to warp little Alejandro's mind and he soon came to the realization that the only way to get his parents to love him was to become beautiful himself. So Alejandro began to regularly groom himself, dress in the finest clothes he could find, and even began to exercise and diet in order to sculp his body into a pillar of beauty. Even once he had accomplished all this his parents still failed to acknowledge him.
Yet one night while his parent's where performing his mother broke her ankle and was forced to leave the stage. While his parent's where busy in the back, Alejandro was told to go out and "entertain" the crown. Eager to please his parents, Alejandro took to the stage and began to recite a comedy act he had heard his parent's use a hundred times. To his sheer joy, the audience began to roar with laughter and for the first time in his life Alejandro felt loved. The energy of the audience fed him and he realized that if he could not make his parent's love him he could make the rest of the world love him.
Despite his parent's careers as bards, Alejandro wanted to take a different route to his fame. Performing was all well and good, but Alejandro wanted to truly astound and amaze the world with his brilliance and charm. It was in this effort that Alejandro began to practice the arcane in more detail. Over a few years he began to become adept at sorcerer and marveled at how much it could magnify his already beautiful person and charm.
During his travels, Alejandro heard of a gladiator arena of some reknown. Even Alejandro had heard tales of the glory a gladiator could win in those pits. Although the threat of his unmarred skin being pricked and sliced by an enemies blade was intimidating, the draw of the potential glory was too much for Alejandro. Putting on his most extravagant outfit and his winning smile, Alejandro made his way straight to the sign up office and made a grand show of signing his name in large fluid cursive.
Why are you signing up?: Signing up in hopes of spreading the word of his beauty and charisma throughout the world. Nuff said.
Internet Connection will be spotty from 6/26-7/8. If necessary NPC my characters as needed. I'll be back to full internet posting strength once I return.
Character Name: Valius Wolfsbane (Character sheet probably, very nearly, almost complete...)
Class: War Mage
Battle Caster - can also provide good range support and decent melee support. War Mages specialise in dealing large amounts of damage quickly. At lower levels they are the party artillery but as they progress they can turn into the party swiss army knife.
Human male, tall, medium build. Shoulder length brown hair. Brown beard and moustache, kept short and tidy. Dark brown eyes, usually fixed into a piercing stare that makes him appear unapproachable. Otherwise he has unassuming features that allow him to blend in easily in any predominantly human settlement.
Blue-grey studded leather armour that is worn and patched in several places – it has definitely seen better days. Brown cloth trousers and brown cotton short sleeved under shirt. Blue-grey knee length boots with reinforced shin and knee pads that match his armour. Short spear, buckler and brown leather quiver strapped to his back alongside a battered rucksack. The only piece of equipment that he carries that appears to be of any decent quality is a light crossbow that hangs from his belt attached by a length of sturdy looking cord – in easy reach if needed quickly.
Dark, broody and angry with the world. Valius will often come across gruff and will not mince his words – frequently using short, direct questions, answers or sentences.
He may be an angry person, he may have a temper but he is not hot headed or rash. His army background has provided him with a honed tactical astuteness and he will quickly way up a situation before acting appropriately.
He also has a certain amount of respect for authority; something which was drummed into him from his army life even if he did resist it most of the time. He can adapt his personality and demeanour to suit who he is talking to, making him well suited as the party voice if required.
It will take a lot for Valius to trust someone and that trust will have to be earned. However, once in a party of people he trusts he can be relied upon to act with the good of the party in mind and will do his up-most to protect those around him. For those that he does not trust or have yet to earn it Valius will quite happily trade their life for his own, or think nothing of dropping someone else right in it… self-preservation has got him this far in life and he’s not about to lose it all now over a bit of sentimentality.
Background: (sorry its quite long...)
The Fallen Maiden, a dirty, unkempt hovel of a tavern in the independent trader district. A young man sits there nursing a tankard of the inn’s cheapest ale, a warm, pungent brew that has more in common with puddle water than ale. As he sits there, at a dirty, pock-marked corner table, he watches the unsavoury lowlifes around him, going about their drunken rituals. As he watches, his mind begins to wander. How had life let him down so badly that he ended up here…
Rufus’ earliest memories were of the small working hamlet, where he grew up, on the edge of a large country estate. His parents were part of a community of workers that lived on the estate and employed by Lord Vortesen, the Lord of the Manor. They were employed to tend to and maintain his surrounding lands. It was a simple, honest life but Rufus always felt out of place, shunned by his peers and frowned at by his elders. Being blessed with a short temper didn’t help the situation. He would often be riled by other boys and provoked into starting fights he couldn’t win. But fight he would, never backing down, until eventually they would be pulled apart and given a dressing down from one of the elders.
His father was the Lord’s Huntsman, a respected position, with principal responsibility for keeping the forest safe and stocked with game to hunt. As Rufus began to grow older, he started to learn his father’s trade. Most children would do likewise but this was also an easier way to separate him from the other boys in the village. He would accompany his father when he rode the forest paths, learning the skills to ride, to track and to hunt. He also learnt to use a crossbow, with unbelievable accuracy for one so young. Rufus enjoyed the solitude of the ride, but even more so, he loved the thrill of the hunt - to chase a wolf down and to kill it.
It was on one such trip, whilst they prepared to make camp for the night that Rufus could tell his father was distracted.
“What is bothering you tonight father?” Rufus enquired
“Son” his father started “there is something your mother and I have waited too long to tell you and now, the timing, it makes it all the more difficult.”
Rufus stared at his father, the emotional burden suddenly showing on the old man’s face.
“We are not your real parents. We are only your Guardians, entrusted with the responsibility of your upbringing. Please let me explain fully before you do anything rash…”
Rufus couldn’t do anything rash even if he wanted to. The revelation had his head swimming with thoughts, confused thoughts, and he felt as though all his muscles had seized. He had all but enough left within him to whisper “I won’t do anything. Please explain….father…”
His father cleared his throat and continued.
“It was nearly 14 years ago, the War of Cleansing had been over for many years but pockets of resistance still held and underground cells of worship to the Dark Gods still existed. It was late one night when Lord Vortesen rode up and banged on our door. In his arms was a child of about 2 years. He gave me the child with no more instruction than to look after it for a few days.”
“I’m guessing that that child was me?” Rufus interjected.
“Yes. Lord Vortesen came back a few days later as promised and sat me down to explain. You had been rescued after a raid on an underground religious cult, a small, growing cell that had formed after the War. The proclamation at the time was that all Cultists were to be killed with exception being taken to children under the age of 2. Any child rescued would belong to the state. They would be placed with loyal families’ that could bear no children of their own, for them to nurture and bring the child up. On the celebration day of their 16th year, they would be returned to the state, at which time they would take up jobs appropriate to their upbringing and skills.”
A tear began to well in the corner of the old man’s eye.
“We never knew your real birthday and have always celebrated it as the day Lord Vortesen left you with us. We were notified last week that your time has come. The state representatives will come next week to take you. You are to be enlisted in the Army.”
“ENLISTED?” Rufus spat “ENSLAVED more like…”
That had been 4 years ago.
His daydream had been interrupted as a small scuffle broke out between a man, a woman and a whore. He waited for the fracas to die down before going up to the bar for a refill. After parting with a few coins from his ever diminishing supply, he began to let his thoughts drift again.
It was his 17th birthday. Some birthday it turned out to be. He had just completed his first year of basic training with the State Army. All the new recruits had undergone hard training to teach them how to fight with simple weapons whilst wearing basic armour. Rufus had done well, showing a natural aptitude in fighting with a variety of weapons, but it was at range, with his trusted crossbow with which he still excelled. However he wasn’t as enthusiastic as his fellow recruits. They had all chosen to be there, taken the Kings Gold and signed up willingly, unlike him. This had proved to be a problem. Rufus had built up a reputation of being difficult. He had no respect for his tutors, and hated discipline in every form. Therefore, when he was summoned to his Commanding Officers rooms he didn’t need to be shown the way.
“Sit down recruit.” The Officer barked, before continuing on in a more measured tone. “I know you’re a difficult case, I know the history and background to your being here and it is against my recommendation that the Army has decided to put you forward for a specialism”
“Specialism Sir?” Rufus replied in autopilot whilst his mind raced to think of what he could mean.
“Yes recruit. You have shown great promise in your skills at range and I would naturally have put you forward for reconnaissance and scouting duties. However, the powers that be have other plans. You are to leave base immediately and report to Commander Albrecht of the 51st. Your future in the army will be explained when you get there.”
“Yes Sir!” Rufus barked back automatically and turned to leave.
He didn’t need to wait to be told his destiny. Commander Albrecht and the 51st were renowned, they were War Mages. The army didn’t accept naturally gifted magic users as they were often highly unpredictable and not reliable enough in the face of the enemy. War Mages had no natural affinity to magic; instead they spent years having the spells they needed drummed into them. Over and over they would practice, so that the spells would become second nature and the full repertoire would be there, with instant recall, when needed. Rufus also knew that only a very few recruits were ever chosen to become War Mages and it meant years of hard discipline and intensive one to one training before fully graduating and Commander Albrecht was the type to use a stick instead of a carrot.
“Come on son, its kicking out time. Sup up and sod off…”
The innkeeper roused the young man from his daydream, so he supped the last of his brew and wandered off outside. Without a final destination or any where to stay the night, he began to wander the streets and his mind slowly focusing back on his past…
It was the day of the final test. This point in his life had been 3 years in the making, 3 long, hard years of training. The final test is a ritual that pitted student versus master. Each would accompany a battalion out into the field and would use their tactical knowledge, leadership and battle magic to try and defeat their opponent. Powerful magical wards covered the whole battle field and prevented life threatening damage, spells and sword blows would deal non lethal damage instead, but it still hurt and it was as real as it could get. Up until now, Rufus had performed well in all the magical ability tests, but his discipline was not to the high standard that Albrecht set. His disregard for authority had ended with numerous beatings being dished out, every time there would be the same sadistic grin on the Commanders face. For this final test, Rufus knew what Commander Albrecht had in store;
“A strict lesson in humility and defeat.”
The Commanders words still rung in his ears.
The two forces squared off against each other, a large valley separating them. Tradition dictated that the student would be allowed to strike the first blow, and as the horn sounded to start the battle Rufus wasted no time. A Hail of Stone rained down across the valley, doing very little damage but serving to leave a cloud of dust, blocking sight and spreading confusion amongst his opponent’s forces. At the same time Rufus commanded his light forces to begin a flanking manoeuvre. Albrecht returned with a series of forceful Magic Missile, whilst ordering his troops to remain steadfast. It was as Rufus expected; he was concentrating on taking out as many of Rufus’s forces as early as possible before rushing his troops in to deal a final blow with strength in numbers. His commanders missiles kept coming - hitting at even intervals aiming to disrupt the line and divide his forces. The trade off continued, with Rufus suffering more casualties than his master, but the Hail of Stones that he persisted with was beginning to work. The constant barrage had started to weaken the flank of his opponents forces. There was also a sizeable 'wall' of stone creating uneven and broken ground in between the two battalions. The final advantage was that the spell was throwing up more and more dust into the air, adding to the confusion and starting to block line of sight. Rufus knew he had to seize his moment. In a flurry of activity he waved the signal for his light forces to begin attacking from the flank. He cast Accuracy and True Strike upon himself and took aim at Commander Albrecht with his trusted crossbow. The bolt flew true and struck the Commanders horse through the eye. It reared and threw its mount, leaving Albrecht breathless on the floor. At the same moment as the bolt hit, Rufus let fly a final Hail of Stone, and gave the decisive order for the whole battalion to close the gap, and the archers to fire at will when in range. From the other side of the valley the dust masked his plan from the view of Commander Albrecht, who was still on the floor, furiously shouting curses and commands, whilst looking for a new horse. Rufus’ own troops laughed and jeered as they closed the gap - the student looked as though he had one up on the master. As the two forces closed, confusion reined all around. Without a word of warning, Rufus kicked his spurs into the flanks of his horse, yanked hard on the reins, and with a final look over his shoulder, made a break for freedom. All he wanted was a small head start…
The mock battle raged on and it had taken Commander Albrecht a full hour to realise what had happened and a search party had been close behind him ever since. Rufus rode for three days solid before finally allowing his horse a rest. He pressed on, stopping no more than a few minutes at a time to water his horse and get his bearings. After a full weeks chase he hit the edge of a forest he knew well, he was back on Lord Vortesen’s estate. It was the perfect place to lose his pursuers; he knew every trail in the forest better than any of them. His survival instincts took over; he rode deep into the forest and slit the horses’ throat. The meat lasted a precious few days before spoiling, all the while Rufus ate it raw, not wanting to risk starting a fire, but those few days provided enough time for him to lie low and avoid detection. Not wanting to go back to his former village, even though it was so close, he made his way to the nearest City. A large, uninterested population would provide him with his best chance to blend in and avoid being found.
That had been a year, several names, hundreds of miles and four different cities ago...
The bump and jostle of the streets brought the young man back to his senses. He had spent enough time in near poverty. He was fed up of running. He was fed up of hiding. He was angry with the world. He no longer wanted to be a hunted man.
All the torment and misery that he had suffered would have broken a lesser man. Not him, he just wanted to get even. The world owed him his share and he was prepared to take it, by force. Tomorrow would be a new start; a new name, a new beginning and this time, on his own terms…
Reason for Signing Up:
Rufus is tired of constantly running, hiding, changing names and living in poverty. He believes he is far enough away from ‘home’ and enough time has elapsed that he can start living again. He has changed his name for the final time, to Valius Wolfsbane, and is looking to start a new life.
All he has ever known is hunting, survival and combat. The adverts and recruitment agents that have been selling the life of a gladiator around town recently have appealed to Valius. The fact that he could also potentially get rich is also a very big draw…
So we find Valius stood in front of the toothless recruitment agent pen poised, ready to sign…
Last edited by Warchief; 05-03-2012 at 05:34 AM.