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    1. Skrakar 11 yrs ago

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Early morning in Craftsmen District. A crack of breaking wood. A window destroyed. A slam of a body hitting the cobbled road in front of The Fletcher Inn. A cry of pain at the rough landing. Gasps of local folk. A tall figure with strange hair exits the inn through the crumbling window and kicks the squirming body in stride. He mutters something in a foreign tongue and spits sideways, saliva missing his long mustache only barely. The one on the ground tries to unbalance him by grabbing him by the leg, but it only makes the big one start kicking the prone man repeatedly, followed by a barrage of curses, cusses and insults. The last kick is directed at his jaw and blood splatters onto the street. Teeth make a rattling sound as they roll down the street. Onlookers step back from the scene. The murmuring of the gathered crowd is pierced by a voice from within the inn, clearly shouting at the tall man. "What are you doing, you stupid easterling?! Who is going to pay for all this damage?!" The man fumed, ready to throw chunks of broken wood at the brute, blinded by frustration. Unfazed by the words of the innkeeper, the big one crouches by the now toothless, unconscious body and yanks the coin purse off, ruining the pantaloons in the process with a loud rip. He shakes out the coins into his hand, throws the purse away and collects ten gold coins. He then tosses them toward the innkeeper. Though surprised, the shouty man still manages to catch them. Then, the tall one bellows out to him. "To cheat Strogobor at cards is one thing. To admit him that is another thing. Neither ends well. Relay that to other patrons." Strogobor places the rest of the coins into his pocket, walks up to his horse in front of the inn and unties her. And then, he walks down the street like nothing happened, guiding the mare through the city. He pats Wojda twice as they go and begins whistling a tune of a battle song he used to sing when his people went to war.
I don't see why not.
Then I must warn people that their mothers will be involved in a lot of dialogues with Strogobor and not in a positive light.
A question. Shall we use modern 18/21 or medieval 16 for the age of adulthood? I need that info to know how to treat Jasce and Fox in-character.
"Women, wine, brawling, arguing about theology... it is best in life, no?" 6.5ft, naturally strong and fit with some hints to a beer gut, his body is covered in a number of tattoos symbolysing his criminal life (on his back - a large castle with five towers, telling how many years he spent in dungeon; on his right forearm - a tankard, meaning he killed in a tavern brawl; on the back of his left hand - a cat in a hat, saying that he robbed a house; on his calves - various religious symbols, meaning that he does not kneel; on his chest - a pair of eyes, symbolysing that he watched over other prisoners in the dungeon; at the base of his neck - a bleeding wound, meaning that he killed and believes he will die a violent death) Name: Strogobor Moravec Age: 39 Gender: Male Personality: Strogobor is, according to the people that know him, a bundle of contradictions. Cocksure, yet knows when to back away. A scoundrel who adheres to some code of conduct. A braggart, but can't take a compliment. Likes to chase anything wearing a skirt, but never loses his head over a woman. Quick to anger with adults, enviably patient with children. He is naturally solemn to the point that he views smiling without a reason as a sign of stupidity. And yet, he doesn't shy away from tomfoolery and taverns if opportunity arises - in fact, if taverns did not require coin for their services, he'd spend his days making rounds between them. As a consequence, Strogobor rather enjoys music and he is quite likely to whistle a tune while pummeling some poor sod that owes him. History: Strogobor hails from the harsh and tumultuous lands in the east, though he avoids to define which land exactly he comes from. He only ever admits that he is from a peasant family that had a horse and that he lived near a river. Parts of his life were spent fighting wars, both as a soldier and a mercenary, and with a lot of luck, Strogobor survived the nearly constant conflicts, losing only sight in his left eye and a small part of his right ear in the process. Growing tired of risking his neck for little to no gain, he saddled his horse, took his sabre and rode out toward the west at the age of 27. During that journey, he came to call himself "a professional criminal" as he stole, robbed, gambled, smuggled and killed for a living. Eventually, Strogobor settled in Meidiba, tired of wandering around. Over the years, he managed to avoid aligning with any of the big cheeses of the city, preferring to work as a sort of a freelancer by doing carefully chosen odd jobs for all of them. He even earned some respect in the criminal underworld as someone reliable and sufficiently, but not overly cunning. On the other side of the coin, his way of living left him on a bit of an ugly side in terms of appearance, somewhat spiritual and without a retirement plan. Fortunately for him, his mare Wojda is still well and kicking. There still might be work for a mounted mercenary. Abilities: Strogobor is extremely proficient with a sabre, especially on horseback, and when pure skill fails, he knows every dirty trick in the book when it comes to fighting. Being big and brutish has its good sides and its bad sides. Though he is naturally ambidextrous, he prefers using his right hand for apparent reasons. His other positive traits are that he is quite lucid when inebriated and that he can play string instruments quite well. Anything extra?: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcZrhJDoIac
Sorry, made a mistake.
Are you still recruiting?
The OP is not on right now, but yes, we have about three people I believe.
Thanks for the info.
Are you still recruiting?
Sorry for triple post.
I've posted the general idea for my character and I'll wait for approval of the basic info before continuing.
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