Arthus

Class: Fighter

gatsubyzeldotteracj3.jpg

Sex: Male

Info:

Level: 2

HP: 40. AC: 18. Fort/Ref/Will: 18/14/12

Inventory

Weapons:

Greatsword - 1d20+10 (d10+4)

Shortbow - 1d20+6

feats

- Armor proficiency (all but plate)
- Blade Opportunist (+2 attacks on AOO with blades)
- Shield Proficiency (all)
- Weapon Focus (heavy blades, +1 to attack)
- Weapon Talent (two-handed. +1 to attack)
- Toughness (Regen when bloodied)
- Weapon Proficiency (all but Superior)

Skills

Acrobatics………………(+3) Arcana………………….(+1)
Athletics……………….(+10) (T) Bluff…………………..(+1)
Diplomacy……………….(+1) Dungeoneering……………(+1)
Endurance……………….(+8) (T) Heal……………………(+6) (T)
History…………………(+1) Insight…………………(+1)
Intimidate………………(+6) (T) Nature………………….(+1)
Perception………………(+1) Religion………………..(+1)
Stealth…………………(+3) Streetwise………………(+1)

*powers, exploits, and abilities*

Combat challenge Combat superiority
Fighter weapon talent Human bonus feat
Human bonus skill Human defensive bonus
Move 6 squares Speak shakuntal

Cleave………………….At will 1 Reaping strike……………At will 1
Sure strike…………….At will 1 Villain's menace…………..Daily 1
Passing attack……….Enc 1 Boundless endurance…….Util 2

Description
The first thing you notice about this darkly-tanned fellow is that he is BIG. Standing easily over six feet tall, and possessing a body corded with muscle and sinew, it's rather obvious that he follows a more violent profession than most. The second thing you will notice is that he is young, as well. Certainly not over twenty summers, he is nevertheless crisscrossed with the scars of a much older warrior. His hair is black, and cut in a jagged style that falls down his back to end at his shoulderblades. His eyes are a deep green, and sparkle with merriment whenever a grin or smile graces his ruddy face, which is often.

His clothing is simple fair; leather huntsmans breeches and a simple tunic of soft cotton. Over it is worn a curious hodge-podge of metal armour that looks like it has been cobbled together from at least five different suits, although despite it's awkward appearance, it looks like it would be quite effective in battle. A huge greatsword is strapped to his back, the blade almost as long as he is tall, and beside it hangs a shortbow in a case, along with a quiver of arrows.

Background
Arthus has not had an easy life by any stretch of the imagination. His parents heavily in debt to a warlord of an eastern province, his life was claimed as repayment of those debts, and he was shipped off to a plantation to work as a slave in the fields. Unfortunately, something went wrong, and where he should have been taken to a human-filled plantation to work and be trained as skilled labor, he was instead taken to a goblin plantation, where he was the only human in chains for a hundred miles in any direction.

His early years were a daily fight for survival. Among the goblins, it was quite literally 'kill or be killed', and Arthus soon realized that he had no allies beyond his own ferocity. So he learned. He learned to kill, to fight, to survive at any cost. And he became very, very good at it. The attacks did not lessen as he grew older, but they became more cautious as his skill grew, and a healthy respect was born among the goblins for this pink-skin who fought like five of their number.

For eighteen years, Arthus toiled in the dirt during the day, and battled for his life by night. Eighteen years; but where another man would have been worn down and defeated by such a grueling routine, Arthus was hardened, toughened, until his body was as hard as the rocks of the earth, and his mind was sharp and honed as any sword.

It was in his nineteenth year that things changed for the youth. Had it gone on like that, he would have died, or become corrupted by the very skills that had kept him alive until he was heartless and cruel as his opressors. However, when he was nineteen, a mercenary captain happened to be visiting the plantation, and he was witness to a fight between Arthus and five of his fellow slaves. Arthus killed three, and severely injured the other two, sustaining a broken arm in the process, and sufficiently impressed the mercenary that he bought Arthus' debt on the spot.

Art's life was changed for the better in his time with the mercenaries. He learned of the camraderie that was the birthright of all who held steel with one another. He learned what it was like to live among people who would watch his back while he slept, rather than try to slide a dagger into him. And most of all, he learned that life was something that could be enjoyed, that there were pleasures and experiences in the real world to overshadow all that he had encountered in the plantation. While he still enjoyed the rush of battle and the song of steel on steel, it was no longer the cruel enjoyment that he had gotten from slaying his opponents in the slave pits. And, as time went on, he began to form into what was actually a very pleasant fellow - just one who enjoyed a good fight more than the next guy might.

And, after four years of fighting with his new family, he was finally allowed to buy his freedom from the wages he had earned the mercenary troupe. And that is where we find him today, free as a bird, heavily armed, and desperate to experience everything the world has to offer him. His is not an innocent outlook on the world, but it is hopeful, and fresh, and that is all that he needs. What does the world have in store for him? Only time will tell, but whatever it might be, he is determined to meet it head on, with steel in hand and a grin on his face.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License