Fisticuffs

Ban the Person above you

Banned for having an Ayn Rand quote in their bio.

That one was too easy.

The Gladiators of House Valens

Female Character: *does something*

Ragnar: CALM DOWN FEMALE! ARE YOU IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE? SEXUAL ASSISTANCE???!?!?!?!

The Gladiators of House Valens

Done. That turned out a little bit better than I thought it would.

The Gladiators of House Valens

”So, you’re really going.” The voice was not unlike gravel being moved underfoot. It rumbled, and it grated, but it managed to be rhythmic, measured. The Markothi Winds weren’t blowing as hard as they might’ve, and the night wasn’t cold. Tavrel turned around, to face the speaker. An old woman, older than you’d ever seen in Toguren, with stark white hair and tanned skin. The Tribe’s Matriarch, Korina. ”I have to say, I was hoping you’d change your mind.” Tav sighed. He’d been hoping to escape without a guilt trip.

”I’m sorry, Korina, but in this I am resolute.” He grinned, sheepishly. ”There’s a whole world out there. Markoth is only a part of it.”

”A very big part.”

“I’ve never even seen Venatria, or Sariya.”

”I’ve never seen Toguren, but I’m quite alright with that.”

”It’s as I said, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

”What if the Tribe needs you?” She asked, eyes gleaming wickedly. ”These plains are far from safe.”

If she could wield guilt like a blade, she’d have Toguren conquered in less than a month.

”You know as well as I do that you won’t need me. The other warriors are more than capable.” He said, tentatively laying a hand on the old woman’s shoulder.

”Fine.” She said. ”You had better come back. With all of your limbs!”

”Of course.”

Tav winced. He didn’t like lying to the Matriarch.

---

He’d lost track of time, but it had been a while. He’d been clean-shaven when he left, but now had the makings of a beard. He’d wound up in Venatria. He had no money, and the road had not been kind to him. He was hungry, but didn’t want to resort to stealing just yet. Apulum was still new to him, and he’d rather not be forced to flee in his first few hours.

The number of people in Apulum didn’t shock him. He’d been to Kosren, after all. This was but a village, in comparison. The buildings are what interested him. Kosren had it’s own appeal, with the nomadic style and hodgepodge construction, but it seemed unfair to compare it to Apulum. This town, to his understanding, was far from the largest in Venatria, but damned if the buildings weren’t pretty.

He wore his armor, such as it was. His regular clothing was far easier to store in his bag, and even if it just eased his mind, he felt it might scare off potential pickpockets. These streets were too crowded for there not to be a few ne’er-do-wells. Not that he was above stealing, he just didn’t like it when it happened to him. So he wandered around the city, looking at everything there was to look at. Father only knew there were enough of them.

---

Eventually, he found his way to a tavern. Little hole-in-the-wall, close to the docks. The clientele seemed to be mostly sailors and merchants. He managed to earn a few free drinks, and a bit of coin for telling some stories. All true. The only reason to make up a story was if you were lying, or if you’d told all your real ones. If it was the latter, the better choice was, really, to go and find new stories.

”The scar? It was actually a Sariyan archer that I met in Kosren. I bet him that he couldn’t hit a fruit off my head. I won, but he’d hit me in the head. Gave me this dagger as payment while his arrow’s sticking out of my head. Good thing he was a poor shot. A good archer would’ve killed me, if they hit me.”

”...and Deyreck has about three arrows in his back, so I pull them out and stand him up and he gets hit again, three more times. Each one lands exactly in the old wounds.”

”What scar? This one? Well, I was fighting a pack of Mongrels, you see- what? Sariyan archer? I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.

It was in the tavern that he found out about the tournament. He’d only fought in the arenas in Markoth on occasion, and never in Toguren. So, he’d asked the sailor who’d mentioned it how to get started, and the sailor told him of House Valens, and how they were looking for new gladiators. He’d run out of money, and wanted to see more of Venatria, anyway.

Why not?

So, there, Tav stood in the sun, waiting for his turn with The Lady of House Valens, watching a Northman practicing with his axe. He fingered the hilt of his saber, sheathed at his waist, and his dagger, on his opposite side. He itched to swing them around, but he figured he’d wait. To really spar effectively, with his style, he needed a partner. Besides…

...he was still a little hungover.

The Gladiators of House Valens

@VoiD Your character reminds me a lot of Logen Ninefingers, from The First Law Trilogy. I like it. I like it a lot :)

The Gladiators of House Valens

I'll be getting a post off when I get off work. Five-ish hours?

The Gladiators of House Valens

I can take next, if no one else intends to.

EDIT: Scratch that. Forgot what hours I'm working.

The Gladiators of House Valens

Just wanted to go on record saying I think this is going to be a really good group. 8 Pages of OOC before the IC starts is a good sign. I'm pumped.

The Gladiators of House Valens

Tavrel Brahn

Tav Brahn

"The road has no hearth, but it’s a good a home as any."

Profile

Full Name: Tavrel Brahn
Titles/Nicknames: “Tav”
Age: 29
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Combat Role:Frontline Counter-Attacker/Harrier

Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Green
Height: 5’ 11”
Weight: 153 Lbs

Appearance: Tav is built like a traveler. Lean, all hard edges and lines. His shoulders are, perhaps, less broad than that of the average Togureni, likely a result of his mixed parentage. He has the start of a beard, and a noticeable scar on his head and face. His eyes are pale and clearly observant, if not always alert. He has a perpetual ghost of a grin on his face. His posture is less than stellar, with a slight backward lean.

Personality

Overview: Tav has seen much in 29 years. From the worst of Torgureni warfare, to the savagery of wild mongrels. He’s felt love and disgust, anger and joy. He’s seen much of the world. Despite this, Tavrel is far from wise and world-weary. He looks at new things with an almost child-like curiosity, and has a devil-may-care attitude towards even the greatest of dangers. He’s a bombastic drunk, and occasionally impulsive. Some call him vivacious, others call him immature.

Tav has some growing up to do, and a lot of that stems from an innate fear of stagnation. For him, responsibility means settling down, and that is really Tav’s only real fear. He makes friends easily, but dislikes staying still long enough to create life-long friendships. Tav has a lot of people who’d drink to his memory, a few that would spit on his grave, but none that would, say, name their children after him or take up arms in his honor.

Combat

Strength: 5
Dexterity: 7
Intelligence: 4
Cunning: 5
Magic: 1
Willpower: 1
Endurance: 3
Charisma: 5

Weapons of Choice: Tav currently wields a pair of blades. One, in his off hand, is a sturdy dagger, with dull edges, a sharp tip, and a thick handguard, meant for parrying. The other, in his right hand, is a Markothi saber, meant for slashing and hacking as opposed to thrusting. Both are of fairly common make, and he’s not especially attached to either of them.

Armor/Combat Apparel: Tav wears a tanned leather cuirass, and wears metal bracers on each forearm. He wears common, rough-cloth trousers with thin leather boots. The bracers are sturdy, and quite effective at warding off blows. His cuirass is adept at fending off glancing slashes, but a solid thrust or hack would easily get through it. However, his style changes depending on what is available to him, and, excluding the bracers, he’s not attached to any of it.

Fighting Style: Tav is a mostly stationary, frontline fighter. He prefers dealing with one opponent at a time, and does so in one of two ways. Usually, he holds fast, fighting defensively by parrying blows with one of his blades, and viciously retaliating with the other. When this proves ineffective for any reason, he falls back to a vastly different style. He rains down blows with both blades, harrying his opponent ruthlessly, hopefully overwhelming whatever defense they mount. The issue with that, however, is that it’s quite taxing to swing heavy blades around that hard, that fast. If he doesn’t kill or force back his opponent with that burst, he’s likely to be killed before he can get his blades up to block. As such, he prefers to fight defensively whenever possible.

Magical Affinity: N/A

Background

Place of Birth: Toguren (temporary encampment)
Social Status: Former Togureni Warrior, Markothi tribesman, Wanderer

History: Born in Toguren, Tav’s parents were of different heritage. His mother was a semi-prominent, Markothi Tribal Warrior, and his father was a Togureni Berserker. His early life was spent learning to fight, from both parents. Lacking the pure physical strength to fight like a berserker and the finesse to properly master his mother’s parry-heavy style, he decided to merge them both. He grew into, if not an outstanding fighter, then one who could hold his own. He earned respect on the many battlefields of Toguren, fighting alongside his parents and clanmates.

Inevitably, Tav’s parents met the end that accompanies a lifetime spent at war. He grieved for some time, but the wars didn’t stop just because his parents had died. He fought, and he became better at it. However, Tav, now a young man, liked his alcohol more than most, and was a bit of a womanizer. Eventually, he got exceptionally drunk and found his way into the bed of his chieftain’s daughter. Upon waking, he thought it best to not be around when the rest of the clan awoke.

He thought about finding refuge with another clan, but he thought about how little of the world he’d seen. So, he wandered, and found himself in Markoth. There, he proved his worth to a tribe by assisting some of their warriors with a hostile mongrel problem. He traveled with them, eventually becoming Markothi. For the first time in Tav’s life, he wasn’t constantly fighting. Markoth wasn’t exactly safe, but the bloodshed was nothing like that of Toguren. It was during this time that he received his scar, but he changes the story every time he tells it. Sometimes, he slips and slashes himself with his own blade. Once, he said that he’d bet a drunk archer that an apple can’t be shot off of his head, a bet he won, unfortunately.

Eventually, Tav grew bored. He left Markoth, with an empty promise to his tribe that he’d someday return. He thought about returning to Toguren, but decided against it. Even if the Chieftain had forgotten about him, a doubtful prospect, he wanted to go somewhere new. So, he wandered again. He found himself in Venatria, in the right costal town at the right time. Having only fought in arenas on occasion, and never in an organized tournament, he decided to try his hand at the town’s tournament.

The Gladiators of House Valens

@Estella I'll keep it unanimous. I vote former.