Well, I started a CS. However I am way too sick and tired to finish it today. I'll do it tomorrow. [hider=Work in progress.] [center] [u][b]Name[/b][/u] Guthrak. No known surname. [u][b]Age[/b][/u] 47-ish. Nobody is quite sure. [u][b]Gender[/b][/u] Manliest Male Alive [u][b]Race[/b][/u] Human [u][b]Class/Specialization[/b][/u] Warrior/Reaver [u][b]Appearance[/b][/u] [u][b]Abilities[/b][/u] [color=fff200][b][u]Warrior[/u][/b] [b][u]Taunt:[/u][/b] (active) By shouting insults and profanities, Guthrak catches the attention of his ennemies, drawing aggro for himself. [hider=Taunt] http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Taunt_(Origins) [/hider] [b][u]Shield Bash:[/u][/b] (active) Guthrak's shield can be used to bash his enemies. If the bash connects, the enemy is knocked down. [hider=Shield Bash] http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Shield_Bash_(Origins) [/hider] [b][u]Indomitable:[/u][/b] (passive) Through massive amounts of willpower and an overly strong body, Guthrak cannot be knocked down, knocked back or stunned. [hider=Indomitable] http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Indomitable_(Origins) [/hider] [/color] [color=ed1c24][b][u]Reaver[/u][/b] [b][u]Rampage:[/u][/b] (active) Channeling his inner fury, the Reaver becomes a devasting force, dealing bonus damage with his attacks, attacking faster and healing each time an enemy is hit. [hider=Rampage] http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Rampage [/hider] [b][u]Scenting Blood:[/u][/b] (passive) The smell of blood drives Guthrak in a frenzied state, granting him extra speed and chance to score critical hits. [hider=Scenting Blood] http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Scenting_Blood [/hider] [b][u]Devour:[/u][/b] (active) Guthrak hits an enemy, not only hitting his body, but also reaching into its soul and absorbing part of its life energy, healing himself and dealing extra damage based on how wounded he is. [hider=Devour] http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Devour_(Dragon_Age_II) [/hider] [/color] [u][b]Origin[/b][/u] Disclaimer: Pardon the shittiness of the text, I absolutely hate writting backgrounds and wrote this particular one while sick. It's not pretty. [hider=Full text] Guthrak never met his family. According to the priest who rose him, he was left in the way of a Chantry's caravan when he was about two years old. According to that same priest, one should also carry garlic into its boots to avoid infections, so he's not exactly a reliable source of information. The origins of Guthrak's name are well known: when found by the caravan, a note was resting on his chest. It read: [i]"This is Guthrak. A baby with a name as ugly as his face. He's your problem now."[/i] Guthrak had a better life than most born into his situation could afford to desire. He had hot meals everyday, he taught to read, and he had a bed to sleep at night. The priests would even tell him bedtime stories. They told him of many things, most of which he cared little about and quickly forgot. He probably forgot all but one: they Grey Wardens. The mythical warriors of legends, who ended Blights, who would charge into battle ridding magnificent beasts and who would always do whatever it took to finish a job. He imagined himself in their armor, walking among their ranks. It became his dream. Despite his better than expected treatment, Guthrak and the Chantry's members didn't had a warm relationship. He was treated respectifully, but always coldly, as if talking to him was a formality people around him were forced to follow. However, he noticed that they acted like this among themselves, therefore it wasn't personal. The one thing he enjoyed was his training. Due to his way above the average stature, he was put into guard duty quite early, with only twelve years of age. With it came an used set of heavy armor and a nice metal shield. Both showed heavy sings of use, the armor looked particularly old, and seemed to have been worn by more than a few guards before him, while the shield's only sing of being worn were a mark from what was probably an axe that hit it a bit too hard, leaving a big notch dead in the center. The years passed and changed Guthrak. When he was fourteen, he'd look like an adult already. Mostly due to his thick build and heavy facial hair. At fifteen he was besting most older guards in combat and on his way to being a templar, the next best things after being a grey Warden. At this same age, he started to sneak out of the chantry and visit the city, where he had his first contacts with alcohol, bar fights and women. When he was seventeen, the priests found him sneaking out and his deviant ways of life, thus granting that he would never be chosen to become a templar. His world collapsed. He never enjoyed the Chantry, but becoming a Templar was the closest he could ever get of being a Grey Warden. In a mix of despair and rage, he fled. He took with him what he could: the armor and the shield. Two years passed as he did his best to survive. Which was mostly keeping the order in taverns and inns. He quickly grew too big to fit in his old armor. He also couldn't live in rented inn rooms for the rest of his life. He needed money and needed it now. When heading out to the sales district to sell his old armor, he found out about a fight club. The payment from the fights itself weren't that better than his bar job, but the possibility to bet on himself was just to good to let go. He sold his armor, probably for a value much lower than deserved, went into the fight club and put everything on himself. Unsurprizingly, he won all of his fights in the first night. His strenght combined with his youth and years of pratice put him way above the level his of his oponents. With a considerably big sum of money, he did what every nineteen years old would: headed to the closest tavern, to where he was followed by an old man. The old man started a conversation with the drunken Guthrak. He praised his fighting skills, joked about his oponents, bought him some drinks and started to talk about the past. Soon Guthrak was rambling on how he left the Chantry, how he missed his opportunity of becoming a Templar and how he wished to redeem himself. The old man grinnedand told him there was a way to bring him back into Andraste's grace. Drunken Guthrak gladly followed him into a temple. Gadly he said the vows. Gladly he drank the blood. Fooled by the Disciples of Andraste, he was now a Reaver. Much happened after drinking the blood. Denial, fear, anger. All of that led Guthrak to flee out of another temple, leaving behind all his belongings, including his money. He became a wanderer. Going from city to city making money as body guard, mercenary, pit fighter or whatever else he could find. Eventually he settled on a big city, in which he became a famous pit fighter. He was able to afford a small house, his food, drinks and eventually women to warm his bed at night. But nothing would be able to wash his conscience of how he corrupted himself. Many years passed. He was nearing old age and yet was still stronger than many young adults on the peak of their development. He was still the champion of the pit, until he found an oponent at his level. An old soldier, worn out by countless battles. His body would lead you to believe the soldier was in his early 20's, but his face would show that the man was much older. Perhabs older than Guthrak himself. The fight was though. Neither would give up their ground. No failures were forgiven by neither of the fighters. Half an hour passed and the old soldier begun to press an advantage. A powerful knee to Guthrak's ribcage put him out of breath. His was quickly followed by a series of hard punches in the wounded area. Guthrak felt the air escape his lungs as they were pierced by his own ribs. He felt death approaching, but also a surge of power. With an unexpected surge of strenght, he reached into the soldier's torso, hitting him with all his strenght and anger. Yet he felt something more. As he landed the punch, he felt as if his hand pierced through the opponent's flesh and went beyond. He felt the old soldier's life energy. He also felt as if his hand absorbed it, while the pain at his lung and his breathing became normal once more. When he pulled his hand back, the soldier fell dead to the ground. The repercussion that the death caused was way bigger than anyone could predict. The city ended up deciding that he was possessed by a demon and forced him out. He packed a few things and, once again, he ran. With no place to go, he finally decided to not settle anymore. It failed three times. It was time to change. On the road he heard rummors of a crew being formed in the litoral. He then decided he'd do whatever it took to join it and live in the sea. [/hider] [b]tl;dr[/b] - Guthrak never met his parents. Was raised by the Chantry to become a Templar, but he screwed it by sneaking out frequently. He then was fooled by a Disciple of Andraste into becoming a Reaver. Disgusted with himself he fled once again, going for a somewhat big city, where he lived the next couple decades as a fighter. Until one day his curse manifested itself and made him kill a man to save his own life. The city thought he was a demon, and he was thrown out with almost none of his belongings. Hearing rummors of a crew being formed in the litoral, he decided to join it. [u][b]Personality[/b][/u] Guthrak is a generally happy fellow. So much happened to him that he created a thick skin for problems. With that said, he's also not the kind of person to take disrespects lightly. With his slightly crazed personality, one can never really know if he's going to laugh from a mockery or punch you in the face for it. Despite his usual good mood, he carries a great regret for his choices in life and is still seeking a way to repair all his mistakes. By the end of the day, he's a brute with a hearth of gold. [u][b]Other[/b][/u] Guthrak fighting style is unconventional, to say the least. Despite his early training with swords, maces and shields, he grew used to fighting with his bare hands during his life. This led to a weird mix of styles: He fights with no weapons beside his fists, with all the violence and brutality that a fist fight requires, however he still uses a shield against armed enemies, using it both as a defensive tool and as an oversised knucke. An experient observer might notice some martiality to the way he fights, legacy of his early training as a soon to become Templar. Despite the fact that he does not use any weapons, he's still fond of heavy armor. Being able to move in one with little to no problems. On the other hand, all armor he wears must be either be intended for a taller race or specifically tailored for him. [/center] [/hider] Still trying to finish, no time at work at all. Well, at least I got some self heals (bunch of selfish mages)