It's feels like forever since you've set out from home. The ceaseless smell of dirt and sweat has invaded your nose for several months now; you've done well to block it out, but, peripherally, you can't help but know it's presence. Hot winds blow and accompanied by the afternoon sun, leaving your best form of entertainment to commiserate with whomever happens to pass by on the road. It is summer, and your only solace is the slightest hint of salt hanging on the breeze. You're almost there.
You had gleaned conversations from travelers around town of a city of adventure budding on the coast, promising wealth beyond measure and, even grander still, magical relics. The rumors come as quickly as your neighbors leave for this grand city. Traders pack their wares, and set forth to where the competition is scare looking to amount their own fortunes. Clerics begin a pilgrimage to witness their gods' creations in its natural state. There is many number of reasons to take the journey, be they motivated by the entrepreneurial spirit or more earnest attempts of simply starting over. The city of Venture awaits, and, ever the opportunist, you sought out that new life.
Suddenly, murmurs and cheer ring out like a choir as your caravan passes what used to be the horizon to finally show a steady decline to the ocean. Nestled in a natural bay, you see off in the distance the city of Venture, a large smattering of buildings and agriculture. Smoke rises from the city promising home-cooked meals and beds to sleep in, a Gods-send compared to the salted rations and whatever game you could come by. Between you and your destination, a thick forest of oak covers the expanse providing much needed cover as consolation from the dry valley preceding it on your journey. As a refreshing breathe of ocean air cleanses your soul, you surmise you are about 5 days of travel from Venture.
Who are you? And what are you doing on the road while traveling?
Henry Cobb is a man defined by duality of purpose. The son of bards in a traveling circus, Henry's company was annihilated by raiders when he was 6 years old. His only memory of his family is vague, warm feelings and a love of music and poetry. The importance of art and beauty in the world and the need to protect it informs his ideal (Greater Good. Our lot is to lay down our lives in defense of others. (Good) ). After almost a year enslaved by foes he cannot remember, he was rescued by a dwarvish war party. His adopted family parents, Bardish Alestrong and Sandy Alestrong had already conceived two sons who had died fighting a generations long guerrilla war against the elves of the Longstride clan- a war initially begun over grazing rights, but continued by deep and bitter familial wounds. The Alestrong's took Henry in and raised him as their own, his powerful 6'3 frame and total lack of fear from the trials he'd endured as a child (personality trait: I can stare down a hell hound without flinching. ) made him a perfect candidate for an elite special forces troop within the dwarven military: The Hooded Core( part navy seals part CIA ops), which he joined after being recruited during the routine mandatory military service of the dwarfs in the region. These special forces units operated outside of normal military, independent cells tasked with bringing down key enemies and supply lines, assassinations and coups, and general black ops wetwork. At no point did Henry forget his love of the gentle, finer things in life, and after a particularly brutal assignment involving the assassination of renown elvish bard/wizards, he was granted a full honorable discharge and given the seed money which sent him to Venture. Sadly his time spent in the military left him with the flaw (I have little respect for anyone who is not a proven warrior. ) so he mostly keeps to himself these days, reading and writing poetry, trying to remember the part of him that he remembers from his genetic parents. He still loves and keeps in touch with the Alestrongs, who are just happy that one of their sons survived the war.
Henry approaches battle the way a butcher approaches a side of beef- emotion, whether positive or negative, doesn't come into play. He duel wields a long sword and a Meteor Hammer, a dwarven weapon designed specifically with clandestine operations and fighting elves in mind (it's a reflavored flail) with precision and forethought. His NG alignment means he takes no joy or delight in the vicious and efficient acts of violence that are his forte, but if you're good at something it is wrong to deprive the world of it. He just wishes he could compose a sonnet rather than manipulate a battlefield. He respects and has fond memories of his time as a Hooded, but has seen the error of large-scale conflicts. Too many beautiful things are destroyed.
Henry stands 6'3 200lbs of lean, corded muscle. His face and body is a patchwork of scars, far from a handsome man, but with intelligent, searching eyes. On the travels to venture so far he can be found reading, drinking tea, and composing very mediocre poetry which he guards precious for shame of its mediocrity. He is at home sleeping in the wild after his many campaigns against the Longstrides, and openly loves elves and their arts and beauty in spite of his training and the culture he was raised in. He carry's with him, concealed (as per his soldier background) the leaf-shaped dagger worn by officers of the elvish army- a useful and beautiful weapon, taken from his final mission, and a constant reminder that his days of destroying beautiful things are over. Venture represents a new start for Henry- no longer one of the Butchers of Eldale, the infamed Hooded Core, he hopes to use his martial prowess to become a guard, bouncer, or other sell-sword to spend his free time listening to music, looking at sunsets, and trying to write something better than a AABBCC couplet.
I dont want to story tell for anyone else, but presumably at some point he meets Alaistair? And has an abiding respect for him? His sheet lists “extra language” and didn't let me put it in, but it's dwarvish.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
It's feels like forever since you've set out from home. The ceaseless smell of dirt and sweat has invaded your nose for several months now; you've done well to block it out, but, peripherally, you can't help but know it's presence. Hot winds blow and accompanied by the afternoon sun, leaving your best form of entertainment to commiserate with whomever happens to pass by on the road. It is summer, and your only solace is the slightest hint of salt hanging on the breeze. You're almost there.
You had gleaned conversations from travelers around town of a city of adventure budding on the coast, promising wealth beyond measure and, even grander still, magical relics. The rumors come as quickly as your neighbors leave for this grand city. Traders pack their wares, and set forth to where the competition is scare looking to amount their own fortunes. Clerics begin a pilgrimage to witness their gods' creations in its natural state. There is many number of reasons to take the journey, be they motivated by the entrepreneurial spirit or more earnest attempts of simply starting over. The city of Venture awaits, and, ever the opportunist, you sought out that new life.
Suddenly, murmurs and cheer ring out like a choir as your caravan passes what used to be the horizon to finally show a steady decline to the ocean. Nestled in a natural bay, you see off in the distance the city of Venture, a large smattering of buildings and agriculture. Smoke rises from the city promising home-cooked meals and beds to sleep in, a Gods-send compared to the salted rations and whatever game you could come by. Between you and your destination, a thick forest of oak covers the expanse providing much needed cover as consolation from the dry valley preceding it on your journey. As a refreshing breathe of ocean air cleanses your soul, you surmise you are about 5 days of travel from Venture.
Who are you? And what are you doing on the road while traveling?
-Egad, an adage!
Mic check, DJ Dempsey on the tables
check check
Henry Cobb is a man defined by duality of purpose. The son of bards in a traveling circus, Henry's company was annihilated by raiders when he was 6 years old. His only memory of his family is vague, warm feelings and a love of music and poetry. The importance of art and beauty in the world and the need to protect it informs his ideal (Greater Good. Our lot is to lay down our lives in defense of others. (Good) ). After almost a year enslaved by foes he cannot remember, he was rescued by a dwarvish war party. His adopted family parents, Bardish Alestrong and Sandy Alestrong had already conceived two sons who had died fighting a generations long guerrilla war against the elves of the Longstride clan- a war initially begun over grazing rights, but continued by deep and bitter familial wounds. The Alestrong's took Henry in and raised him as their own, his powerful 6'3 frame and total lack of fear from the trials he'd endured as a child (personality trait: I can stare down a hell hound without flinching. ) made him a perfect candidate for an elite special forces troop within the dwarven military: The Hooded Core( part navy seals part CIA ops), which he joined after being recruited during the routine mandatory military service of the dwarfs in the region. These special forces units operated outside of normal military, independent cells tasked with bringing down key enemies and supply lines, assassinations and coups, and general black ops wetwork. At no point did Henry forget his love of the gentle, finer things in life, and after a particularly brutal assignment involving the assassination of renown elvish bard/wizards, he was granted a full honorable discharge and given the seed money which sent him to Venture. Sadly his time spent in the military left him with the flaw (I have little respect for anyone who is not a proven warrior. ) so he mostly keeps to himself these days, reading and writing poetry, trying to remember the part of him that he remembers from his genetic parents. He still loves and keeps in touch with the Alestrongs, who are just happy that one of their sons survived the war.
Henry approaches battle the way a butcher approaches a side of beef- emotion, whether positive or negative, doesn't come into play. He duel wields a long sword and a Meteor Hammer, a dwarven weapon designed specifically with clandestine operations and fighting elves in mind (it's a reflavored flail) with precision and forethought. His NG alignment means he takes no joy or delight in the vicious and efficient acts of violence that are his forte, but if you're good at something it is wrong to deprive the world of it. He just wishes he could compose a sonnet rather than manipulate a battlefield. He respects and has fond memories of his time as a Hooded, but has seen the error of large-scale conflicts. Too many beautiful things are destroyed.
Henry stands 6'3 200lbs of lean, corded muscle. His face and body is a patchwork of scars, far from a handsome man, but with intelligent, searching eyes. On the travels to venture so far he can be found reading, drinking tea, and composing very mediocre poetry which he guards precious for shame of its mediocrity. He is at home sleeping in the wild after his many campaigns against the Longstrides, and openly loves elves and their arts and beauty in spite of his training and the culture he was raised in. He carry's with him, concealed (as per his soldier background) the leaf-shaped dagger worn by officers of the elvish army- a useful and beautiful weapon, taken from his final mission, and a constant reminder that his days of destroying beautiful things are over. Venture represents a new start for Henry- no longer one of the Butchers of Eldale, the infamed Hooded Core, he hopes to use his martial prowess to become a guard, bouncer, or other sell-sword to spend his free time listening to music, looking at sunsets, and trying to write something better than a AABBCC couplet.
I dont want to story tell for anyone else, but presumably at some point he meets Alaistair? And has an abiding respect for him? His sheet lists “extra language” and didn't let me put it in, but it's dwarvish.