Post by Sten on Sept 8, 2013 13:59:50 GMT -8
And finally, here's my second character. There might be a couple typos, so pardon me.
Name: Sten Gregory
Age: 22
Class: Archer (5)
Appearance: A relatively tall and lean man standing at 5'11" and weighing at about 159 lbs, he has a fair amount of good looks that might stand him out from another person. His face perpetually caught in a cycle of smug and cocky smiles whenever he isn't crawling inside a whiskey bottle in the corner of a tavern. Although clean, he also appears rugged and rough around the edges, as if hygiene wasn't always something he sought out to do. He has combed back hair that's full of split ends and is held back by a leather headband that doubles as protection for his forehead. His face is unblemished save for the scar that stretches from the bridge of his nose over to his left cheekbone, which appears to have been stitched at some point. His broad shoulders carry two leather pauldrons with the same blue hue as the headband. The rest of his leather armor starts at his chest, and a yellow-mustard shirt being the only thing that stands between a blade and his neck or collarbone. The armor on his chest and back isn't very big, and ends around his waist leaving only his shirt to cover his lower abdominal regions for the sake of mobility.
There are few pieces of leather that protect parts of his thigh, but his legs are generally unprotected, being covered by comfortable, however strong black fabric material that counts as his pants, the legs, which, are tucked neatly into hardened leather boots that stretches up his shins and calves and stops short below his knees. A place where one can safely assume he may be hiding a survival knife. Aside from the characteristics that make up his regular appearance, Sten's posture can vary. As an archer, he has learned to maintain a good posture while standing and shooting, but also has a habit of slouching. His acute brown eyes are nothing remarkable and tones well with his somewhat tanned skin. He often carries himself nonchalantly and isn't one to take many things seriously, simply judging by the features on his face.
Personality: The smuggest, cockiest son-of-a-bitch you've probably ever did see with a smile to match. Paired up with this disposition is the kind of roguish charm that gets the ladies all a flutter. A bad boy through and through, he disregards authority with a dismissive hand and doesn't seem to understand the severity of most situations he gets himself in, almost as if he has trouble discerning what's right from wrong. Whether it be foolishness or courage, he'd be the man who would get in a drunken fight with a guy twice his size, but would use every dirty trick in the book to get him on his knees. Capable and efficient, he also prefers to take up arms with bows and arrows than a big sword and charge in. He has a sharp eye and is perfectly capable of dishing out merciless judgement comfortably from atop a tree. Funny a word, merciless. He may perhaps be merciless but is curiously chivalrous to an extent. Chivalry without honor, even. While he may have been a killer, he isn't an executioner, and wouldn't bring himself to kill a shackled child on their knees. Unless it being apart of the plan in play, he wouldn't really kill without provocation - he would straight up shoot guy that walked towards him, but he could probably kill someone if it was part of a mercenary job.
Regardless of his seemingly cold inner personality, he always welcomes a laugh and isn't afraid to live life. A drunk, a flirt, a merry man, a thrill seeker, he is all these things and isn't too difficult to please, however, is generally difficult to genuinely impress. He'll be the guy making the move on the girl you've been looking at for the past fifteen minutes but have been too afraid to say anything. Which of course, could end in either being a critical success or critical failure - absconding away with the woman in question or getting slapped across the face. As I'm sure you can imagine, he has had many of those.
Backstory: Sten's history is an odd one, as it follows a sequence of events in a fashion you wouldn't quite expect it to. Sten came from a rich family in central Elibe, the Gregories, and they knew little of hardship or poverty. Little effort was required throughout the day to day activities and they had the kind of perks you would expect from a wealthy family: good health, good education, food, some martial practice with a variety of activities including archery - one that Sten found himself indulged in quite often. He wasn't one to pay too much attention to the teachings that came with education, a product of being wealthy and taking things for granted. He was an only child as well, and got into a variety of trouble for sake of simply entertaining himself. He never was one to fear authority, being that he would stare down one of the guards with a smile on his face. This brought a little grief to his parents, who would try to think of things for him to do to entertain himself without causing trouble. Giving him a bow at age 10, they would send him into the woods with some of the most benign slaves or servants, which they held in the plantation or their home respectively, for the sake of protection. With some practice, he brought back some kills which included mostly wild boar, as well as positive feedback that was provided from the slave or servant that accompanied him. They had found that this was a good way to satiate his boredom without hassling the local authorities.
These outings also provided him with things outside of amusement; it provided exercise, it taught him posture, and his accuracy steadily improved to the extent that he could throw a rock from a hundred feet away and nail a village child in the back of the head or hit him in the shoulder. Unfortunately, it also brought a certain pride and cockiness that would bring him into mischief, including throwing rocks at village children. Punishment taught him that if he wanted to do anything fun, he would have to avoid being seen. Climbing trees and buildings helped him out a lot with that, and it even aided him in hunting and camping out for a couple days. He was able to shoot and kill boars up in trees without being seen at the age of 15. At that point, he also found thrill in getting them angry and running away so they could chase him. If they got close, he would jump into a tree and repeat the process until he wore himself out and waited in the branches until it left. This, obviously, was never really wise in the first place and never learned any better.
Then at age 18, tragedy struck. Sort of. Sten became bored. He did the same thing for years on end and nothing really seemed to change. His parents wanted him to live the kind of life they did - a grounded and unexciting life, simply sitting there enjoying meaningless luxuries. Unimpressed with that sort of lifestyle, he simply packed his things in a satchel (which included supplies, a few personal belongings, and one lovely and well-made longbow plus its arrows) and left to live his own life.
Of course, this turned out to be a lot harder than he expected it to be. Sten didn't have much in the way of job experience and the life of a soldier wasn't one he wanted to lead. Without money, it was hard to get a lot done. Buying arrows was hard, Sten never had to cook one in his life so the animals he shot was almost worthless to him (he would eventually bring them to a village to sell). When he would come across an area where hunting was difficult to do as he approached northwest. He eventually found himself hoeing on somebody's farm working under the hot sun - and to think the son of a wealthy family such as the Gregories was reduced to farm work! The allure of home was tempting, but he refused to anchor himself to a dolefully boring life. He found himself going from town to town for two years, more or less accepting the life he had chosen - less excitement than he had hoped for, but it beat living back at home. It gave him the necessary experience to live the way he did - he learned how to cook and treat his own wounds.
And then at age 20, he met friends.
Not the good-good kind of friends, but a couple half-dozen friends he would still get along with - rule breakers and thrill seekers like he was. They practically formed a band and, not being on particularly good relations with the local town, decided to hole up somewhere in place where they could practically do what they want. There was an isolated cave in a craggy landscape that led to the top of the small mountain - and effective lookout. This became their base of operations, and with some hoarding, they were able to turn it into an amiable place. Tables, torches to light up the darkness, it was actually not a bad place to live in. They stuck nails in the walls where they could hang hammocks and everything. Of course there was one issue - beyond making clothes or finding food or cooking - boredom. What exactly could they do for fun around here? Hunting wasn't everyone's niche and going into town shopping wasn't what they had in mind. And as they looked down from the entrance of their hole, they notice a trader wagon being pulled by a single horse, and the same idea popped into everyone's head. None of them were afraid of the authorities, so why not?
Sten perched on top of the lookout point while the other guys crept down and his behind large boulders near the base of the cliff. Pulling back a bowstring, Sten's arrow whizzed through the air and stick itself in the horse's rear flank. The horse reared up in pain, and the weakness in its back leg didn't allow it to support that kind of weight. The horse toppled over and the wagon fell over on its side. Another arrow stick into the horse's neck as his friends charged the wagon - two people, a couple. They didn't kill them, they let them off alive but immensely scared. After raiding the contents, they found something that everybody would enjoy - a shipment of alcoholic beverages. One hell of a party was thrown that night, and they used parts of the wagon and some of its contents to decorate the hideout, and the horse provided quite the feast.
Now this was the kind of life Sten was looking for. Bandit did have quite a ring to it, and it was far more fun than, say, dressing up in a doublet and prancing around in a ballroom.
Unfortunately, they were rather new at this whole bandit shindig and wasn't really aware of all the ins and outs. You see, since they left those poor folks alive (as a matter of moral standpoint), they reported them to the guards of the local town and a detachment of guards was deployed to take care of them. About a half dozen guards were sent their way, and luckily one of the guys saw them coming. They called for Sten to get to the top and pick them off (they certainly weren't coming to play nicely). He was only able to shoot two before the landscape began to obstruct his vision. So he had to get down to the caves to help out. Two of them were idiotic enough to charge straight into the fray thinking the other were behind them, and were cut down leaving only a scratch or two. None of them were real warriors like the trained guardsmen, but they did have home field advantage. The other three friends were smart enough to stay inside and catch them off guard, taking two more down, but they were unable to actually fend them off. Retreating to the lookout point, Sten had a clear shot at one of them, sticking an arrow in one of their collarbones. However, he wasn't fast enough to avoid the other guard that charged him, making a glancing blow with his sword across Sten's face. Dropping his bow and clutching his face in agony, the only thing that saved him was one of his buddies (his name was Gaius, and was probably closest to him out of everyone else in the group) pushed the guard off the cliff where he tumbled down the rocky mountainside until he landed on the ground with a sickening crack. Having taken care of the deployment, they were able to direct their attention towards Sten.
Be it fate or another stroke of dumb luck, the man that actually knew how to handle a first aid kit was one of the guys that managed to make it. They cleaned him up and stitched the cut on his face closed and let it heal. It was through this experience that they learned they couldn't play nice all the time - Sten especially learned that lesson. It transformed them from a drunken rabble to a ruthlessly efficient band of four that would take on incoming caravans, their will and nerves hardening over time and their skills honed. They were able to walk out into the forest along the trail where Sten would hide in the tall trees just as he did when he was a boy, and take out his targets while the others raided the travelers in a flash of steel. They eventually gained a reputation as "The Hounds" and got a couple of guys now and again that were interested in getting in on the loot. Gaius was charismatic, and was good at leading so he became known as the leader of the group, but him, Sten, and the other two were recognized as the "founding fathers" so to speak.
However, golden ages never last a long time. After a year and half of their infamous name, the band became lazy. Every night was the same drinking and laughing with a naked wench in their laps. Frankly, Sten became bored of it. And then became aggravated as months passed by, after they hadn't done anything lucrative in ages beyond a petty mugging. Though he tried to change it, they ignored him and let their lives waste away in a dank cave that had long past seen its glory days - a hug mess. The people eventually forgot about them and after doing everything in his power to no avail, Sten walked out and into the tavern of the nearby town. He had been sitting and there for the past three or so months drinking away his fortune, recalling the good old days.
Strength: 9
Magic: 0
Skill: 11
Speed: 6
Luck:3
Defense:5
Resistance: 2
Name: Sten Gregory
Age: 22
Class: Archer (5)
Appearance: A relatively tall and lean man standing at 5'11" and weighing at about 159 lbs, he has a fair amount of good looks that might stand him out from another person. His face perpetually caught in a cycle of smug and cocky smiles whenever he isn't crawling inside a whiskey bottle in the corner of a tavern. Although clean, he also appears rugged and rough around the edges, as if hygiene wasn't always something he sought out to do. He has combed back hair that's full of split ends and is held back by a leather headband that doubles as protection for his forehead. His face is unblemished save for the scar that stretches from the bridge of his nose over to his left cheekbone, which appears to have been stitched at some point. His broad shoulders carry two leather pauldrons with the same blue hue as the headband. The rest of his leather armor starts at his chest, and a yellow-mustard shirt being the only thing that stands between a blade and his neck or collarbone. The armor on his chest and back isn't very big, and ends around his waist leaving only his shirt to cover his lower abdominal regions for the sake of mobility.
There are few pieces of leather that protect parts of his thigh, but his legs are generally unprotected, being covered by comfortable, however strong black fabric material that counts as his pants, the legs, which, are tucked neatly into hardened leather boots that stretches up his shins and calves and stops short below his knees. A place where one can safely assume he may be hiding a survival knife. Aside from the characteristics that make up his regular appearance, Sten's posture can vary. As an archer, he has learned to maintain a good posture while standing and shooting, but also has a habit of slouching. His acute brown eyes are nothing remarkable and tones well with his somewhat tanned skin. He often carries himself nonchalantly and isn't one to take many things seriously, simply judging by the features on his face.
Personality: The smuggest, cockiest son-of-a-bitch you've probably ever did see with a smile to match. Paired up with this disposition is the kind of roguish charm that gets the ladies all a flutter. A bad boy through and through, he disregards authority with a dismissive hand and doesn't seem to understand the severity of most situations he gets himself in, almost as if he has trouble discerning what's right from wrong. Whether it be foolishness or courage, he'd be the man who would get in a drunken fight with a guy twice his size, but would use every dirty trick in the book to get him on his knees. Capable and efficient, he also prefers to take up arms with bows and arrows than a big sword and charge in. He has a sharp eye and is perfectly capable of dishing out merciless judgement comfortably from atop a tree. Funny a word, merciless. He may perhaps be merciless but is curiously chivalrous to an extent. Chivalry without honor, even. While he may have been a killer, he isn't an executioner, and wouldn't bring himself to kill a shackled child on their knees. Unless it being apart of the plan in play, he wouldn't really kill without provocation - he would straight up shoot guy that walked towards him, but he could probably kill someone if it was part of a mercenary job.
Regardless of his seemingly cold inner personality, he always welcomes a laugh and isn't afraid to live life. A drunk, a flirt, a merry man, a thrill seeker, he is all these things and isn't too difficult to please, however, is generally difficult to genuinely impress. He'll be the guy making the move on the girl you've been looking at for the past fifteen minutes but have been too afraid to say anything. Which of course, could end in either being a critical success or critical failure - absconding away with the woman in question or getting slapped across the face. As I'm sure you can imagine, he has had many of those.
Backstory: Sten's history is an odd one, as it follows a sequence of events in a fashion you wouldn't quite expect it to. Sten came from a rich family in central Elibe, the Gregories, and they knew little of hardship or poverty. Little effort was required throughout the day to day activities and they had the kind of perks you would expect from a wealthy family: good health, good education, food, some martial practice with a variety of activities including archery - one that Sten found himself indulged in quite often. He wasn't one to pay too much attention to the teachings that came with education, a product of being wealthy and taking things for granted. He was an only child as well, and got into a variety of trouble for sake of simply entertaining himself. He never was one to fear authority, being that he would stare down one of the guards with a smile on his face. This brought a little grief to his parents, who would try to think of things for him to do to entertain himself without causing trouble. Giving him a bow at age 10, they would send him into the woods with some of the most benign slaves or servants, which they held in the plantation or their home respectively, for the sake of protection. With some practice, he brought back some kills which included mostly wild boar, as well as positive feedback that was provided from the slave or servant that accompanied him. They had found that this was a good way to satiate his boredom without hassling the local authorities.
These outings also provided him with things outside of amusement; it provided exercise, it taught him posture, and his accuracy steadily improved to the extent that he could throw a rock from a hundred feet away and nail a village child in the back of the head or hit him in the shoulder. Unfortunately, it also brought a certain pride and cockiness that would bring him into mischief, including throwing rocks at village children. Punishment taught him that if he wanted to do anything fun, he would have to avoid being seen. Climbing trees and buildings helped him out a lot with that, and it even aided him in hunting and camping out for a couple days. He was able to shoot and kill boars up in trees without being seen at the age of 15. At that point, he also found thrill in getting them angry and running away so they could chase him. If they got close, he would jump into a tree and repeat the process until he wore himself out and waited in the branches until it left. This, obviously, was never really wise in the first place and never learned any better.
Then at age 18, tragedy struck. Sort of. Sten became bored. He did the same thing for years on end and nothing really seemed to change. His parents wanted him to live the kind of life they did - a grounded and unexciting life, simply sitting there enjoying meaningless luxuries. Unimpressed with that sort of lifestyle, he simply packed his things in a satchel (which included supplies, a few personal belongings, and one lovely and well-made longbow plus its arrows) and left to live his own life.
Of course, this turned out to be a lot harder than he expected it to be. Sten didn't have much in the way of job experience and the life of a soldier wasn't one he wanted to lead. Without money, it was hard to get a lot done. Buying arrows was hard, Sten never had to cook one in his life so the animals he shot was almost worthless to him (he would eventually bring them to a village to sell). When he would come across an area where hunting was difficult to do as he approached northwest. He eventually found himself hoeing on somebody's farm working under the hot sun - and to think the son of a wealthy family such as the Gregories was reduced to farm work! The allure of home was tempting, but he refused to anchor himself to a dolefully boring life. He found himself going from town to town for two years, more or less accepting the life he had chosen - less excitement than he had hoped for, but it beat living back at home. It gave him the necessary experience to live the way he did - he learned how to cook and treat his own wounds.
And then at age 20, he met friends.
Not the good-good kind of friends, but a couple half-dozen friends he would still get along with - rule breakers and thrill seekers like he was. They practically formed a band and, not being on particularly good relations with the local town, decided to hole up somewhere in place where they could practically do what they want. There was an isolated cave in a craggy landscape that led to the top of the small mountain - and effective lookout. This became their base of operations, and with some hoarding, they were able to turn it into an amiable place. Tables, torches to light up the darkness, it was actually not a bad place to live in. They stuck nails in the walls where they could hang hammocks and everything. Of course there was one issue - beyond making clothes or finding food or cooking - boredom. What exactly could they do for fun around here? Hunting wasn't everyone's niche and going into town shopping wasn't what they had in mind. And as they looked down from the entrance of their hole, they notice a trader wagon being pulled by a single horse, and the same idea popped into everyone's head. None of them were afraid of the authorities, so why not?
Sten perched on top of the lookout point while the other guys crept down and his behind large boulders near the base of the cliff. Pulling back a bowstring, Sten's arrow whizzed through the air and stick itself in the horse's rear flank. The horse reared up in pain, and the weakness in its back leg didn't allow it to support that kind of weight. The horse toppled over and the wagon fell over on its side. Another arrow stick into the horse's neck as his friends charged the wagon - two people, a couple. They didn't kill them, they let them off alive but immensely scared. After raiding the contents, they found something that everybody would enjoy - a shipment of alcoholic beverages. One hell of a party was thrown that night, and they used parts of the wagon and some of its contents to decorate the hideout, and the horse provided quite the feast.
Now this was the kind of life Sten was looking for. Bandit did have quite a ring to it, and it was far more fun than, say, dressing up in a doublet and prancing around in a ballroom.
Unfortunately, they were rather new at this whole bandit shindig and wasn't really aware of all the ins and outs. You see, since they left those poor folks alive (as a matter of moral standpoint), they reported them to the guards of the local town and a detachment of guards was deployed to take care of them. About a half dozen guards were sent their way, and luckily one of the guys saw them coming. They called for Sten to get to the top and pick them off (they certainly weren't coming to play nicely). He was only able to shoot two before the landscape began to obstruct his vision. So he had to get down to the caves to help out. Two of them were idiotic enough to charge straight into the fray thinking the other were behind them, and were cut down leaving only a scratch or two. None of them were real warriors like the trained guardsmen, but they did have home field advantage. The other three friends were smart enough to stay inside and catch them off guard, taking two more down, but they were unable to actually fend them off. Retreating to the lookout point, Sten had a clear shot at one of them, sticking an arrow in one of their collarbones. However, he wasn't fast enough to avoid the other guard that charged him, making a glancing blow with his sword across Sten's face. Dropping his bow and clutching his face in agony, the only thing that saved him was one of his buddies (his name was Gaius, and was probably closest to him out of everyone else in the group) pushed the guard off the cliff where he tumbled down the rocky mountainside until he landed on the ground with a sickening crack. Having taken care of the deployment, they were able to direct their attention towards Sten.
Be it fate or another stroke of dumb luck, the man that actually knew how to handle a first aid kit was one of the guys that managed to make it. They cleaned him up and stitched the cut on his face closed and let it heal. It was through this experience that they learned they couldn't play nice all the time - Sten especially learned that lesson. It transformed them from a drunken rabble to a ruthlessly efficient band of four that would take on incoming caravans, their will and nerves hardening over time and their skills honed. They were able to walk out into the forest along the trail where Sten would hide in the tall trees just as he did when he was a boy, and take out his targets while the others raided the travelers in a flash of steel. They eventually gained a reputation as "The Hounds" and got a couple of guys now and again that were interested in getting in on the loot. Gaius was charismatic, and was good at leading so he became known as the leader of the group, but him, Sten, and the other two were recognized as the "founding fathers" so to speak.
However, golden ages never last a long time. After a year and half of their infamous name, the band became lazy. Every night was the same drinking and laughing with a naked wench in their laps. Frankly, Sten became bored of it. And then became aggravated as months passed by, after they hadn't done anything lucrative in ages beyond a petty mugging. Though he tried to change it, they ignored him and let their lives waste away in a dank cave that had long past seen its glory days - a hug mess. The people eventually forgot about them and after doing everything in his power to no avail, Sten walked out and into the tavern of the nearby town. He had been sitting and there for the past three or so months drinking away his fortune, recalling the good old days.
Strength: 9
Magic: 0
Skill: 11
Speed: 6
Luck:3
Defense:5
Resistance: 2
