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Message: <blockquote data-quote="hafrogman" data-source="post: 4963682" data-attributes="member: 8858">Atrius, Half-elf Bard"Strength is having the courage to act." Atrius was born into slavery, the child of a human slave and an unknown elf.  He chose to train as a gladiator in a chance to rise from his origins, and follow his dreams.  But now he has found himself on a steep trip back down. Atrius fought for the crowds with flashy swordplay and graceful movements.  His fighting style still mimics this, but in the brutal fights for his life he will use any tactic he can get his hands on, be it swordplay, magic, or simply making friends with his opponents. [sblock=Background]"Gather round and listen!  Hearken to the tale of Atrius the Bold, champion of the ring!  A mighty warrior!  A legend in his own time!  Men feared him!  Women desired him!  And many had him, truth be told.  Many women, a great many women. . . but I digress. . .  From the humblest of beginnings he strode forth with blade in hand to carve his own destiny!  Every warrior knows that real strength lies not in the body, but in the mind.  Having the courage to strike when it is needed, that is true power!  And when opportunity came for this fey-marked son of man, Atrius met the challenge head-on.  He was a mere stripling when he defeated the legendary Grimhammer!  A mighty orc warrior from the frozen north, humbled by a lowly slave boy.  It was a mighty dual!  Grimmhammer roared fierce defiance at"My words were cut short as I ducked out of the way of a boot thrown across the room, nearly clipping my head.  The boot was followed by a short burst of cursing.  I stared down my critic, an aging veteran who quickly dropped his gaze.  But I remained silent nonetheless, my rhythm broken.  I looked around the dingy slave quarters and sighed deeply.  It is odd how certain moments in time continue to shape your life so long after they have passed.  Barely remembered taunts from my youth still sting me today.  Other humans who sneered because I was part elf, everyone else who sneered because I was part human.  All of them looking down at me because I was small, weak, unimportant.  Even from my earliest days I could feel the fey blood flowing within me, prompting me to unleash it's potential.  But I did not desire a life of magic and study, I longed to be a warrior, a hero from the fireside tales; sword in hand, a man alone, pitted against the world.  They mocked me for my dreams.  But I knew that I would not stay a household slave forever.  I swore that I would not spend my life sweeping floors.-----------------------------------------------------------The first of these moments burns in my memory above all others.  The day I reached out and took what the world refused to offer me.  The master's son wished to start his own stable of gladiators, and his father had gifted him with his choice of the slaves, and the retired champion, Kerak Grimmhammer to train them.  The announcement was made, and several of the stronger boys chose to take the offer, dreaming of a chance at a better life.  Then I stepped forward.  I stared upwards as Grimmhammer scowled down at me."You, boy?  A mere twig could never last in the arenas!  Come back when you can stand up in a stiff breeze!"And then he laughed.  And everyone laughed with him.  At me.  Laughed at the idea that I could ever be a warrior.  They all expected me to simply give up, to run and hide behind my mother's skirts, to live a life of no consequence.  But I had other ideas.  I felt my hands tighten around the broom in my hands as I gripped it like a sword, screaming my defiance I darted forward and swung as hard as I could, shattering the wood against Grimmhammer's head.  Silence dropped like a stone across the room as everyone stared at me.  I stood there, still gripping the broken broom and staring unflichingly at my own doom.  Grimmhammer slowly reached up and rubbed his jaw as he regarded me.And then he laughed.  But this time it was a very different laugh."Oh I LIKE you!  You really don't understand fear, do you?  Very well, let's see what we can make out of you."-----------------------------------------------------------I recall the first time I set foot on the arena sands.  The fight itself is a mere blur, but the moments leading up to it are firmly etched in my mind.  I stood just inside the ring, staring upwards at the throngs of people.  Grimmhammer, stood behind me, my trainer, my mentor, my friend.  I was about to put to the test everything he had taught me over the past years.  I stood transfixed by the roar of the crowd, an intoxicating sound.  Grimmhammer clapped me on the shoulder and gave a short laugh."It is a wonder to behold, isn't it?  In my homeland there is a mountain, riddled through with caves.  The wind whips through the mountain, and to stand within it is to hear the gods play the world as their instrument.  It is an incredible noise and the only thing I have ever heard that can rival the crowd in their glory.  Now, go and discover what it feels like when it's your name they are chanting!"-----------------------------------------------------------Thus began my life as a gladiator.  I had learned much from Grimmhammer.  How to fight, how to win, but most of all how to look good while I did it.  A gladiator's career hangs on his ability to draw a crowd's attention.  Be good, be bad, it doesn't matter.  If you do it colorfully enough, they will love you.  I was a champion, and I loved every minute of it.  I wanted for nothing.  Wine, women and song flowed past in an endless stream of pleasure, which still couldn't compare to the thrill I got hearing the roar of the crowds as they chanted my name.  Nobody dared laugh any more.I spent less time with Grimmhammer in those days.  I had learned all he had to teach, and it was painful to watch him succumb to the ravages of time.  He was already far past his prime when he became my trainer, and the intervening years had not been kind.  To see the once proud warrior so weak was frightening to me, and I shamefully avoided him in favor of my own glory.  But one day, he called me to his side, and I answered."Ah, my proudest achievement.  I wish to ask something of you.  I have reached the point in my life where I must face the fact that certain dreams will never come true.  Long ago, when I first came to this land, I often dreamed of returning to see my homeland once more.  Now it is far too late for me to make any such journey.  But you, you are still young, with many years ahead of you.  I would ask this of you.  If ever you should find the chance, I would ask you to go in my stead and take a memory of me with you to leave there."He pressed a small stone pendant into my hand, and closed my first around it."That was given to me by my father.  Take it with you if you find a way."I glanced down at the unassuming piece of stone and told him I would remember the promise, should I ever have the chance to visit his homeland.  Then I placed it in pouch, tossed it in my chambers and forgot about it.  Some months later, he passed away without us having spoken again.-----------------------------------------------------------When the fall came, it was sudden.  Some debts were called in, some business ventures failed, some gambling went badly.  For a while, I had been Atrius the Bold, beloved champion.  But I was first and always a slave, given away in exchange for a debt forgiven.  The arena masters themselves would now hold my contract.  No more for me were the priveleges of a champion.  Everything that was mine, was never truly mine.  I was thrown into the slave pens with a few scattered possessions, and a pouch containing a forgotten stone pendant.The love of the crowd is a fickle thing, and the only thing they love to see more than a champion at the top, is to see one ground into the dirt.  My fights have become more and more brutal.  No more clashes between two brave challengers, now I am thrown against anyone and everyone.  My blood flows daily, I fight for my life.  Some of my fellow slaves are with me, organizing impressive but survivable matches.  Others long to be the one who finally puts me in my place and ends the legacy of Atrius.  I have fallen a long way.  The crowds laugh as I scrabble for survival.  The time has come to leave this place and once again seize a new destiny.  I must forge a path for myself.  I must find my chance for glory once again.[/sblock][sblock=Levels]Level 1 - Household slave.Level 2 - Volunteers for gladiator training.Level 3 - Training under Grimmhammer, first steps into the arena.Level 4 - Rise of a champion, glory is heaped upon him.  Death of his mentor.Level 5 - Sold to clear his master's debt.  Arena degrades into bloody fights for survival.  Priveleges lost.  Fall from favor.Level 6 - He tries to keep his spirits up, and works with other slaves, but the conditions and constant battles are wearing on him.[/sblock][sblock=Description][imagel]http://www.enworld.org/forum/attachments/talking-talk/41481d1253135574-d-d-4th-edition-new-campaign-discussion-thread-atrius.jpg[/imagel]Atrius is of average height for a half-elf, which makes him seem quite short when pitted against many of his arena foes, but he is fairly broadly built.   His fey blood shows through in the cast of his face and eyes, blending with his human features in a fairly appealing exotic appearance.  His shoulder-length black hair was once his pride and joy, but since his fall has become somewhat tattered.In the Arena:Even now, Atrius strides onto the sands of the arena as if he owns the place.  He faces with defiance the jeers from the once adoring crowds, and stand unfliching as the opposing gate opens to reveal his opponent. Out of the Arena:Atrius after a fight is a much different creature.  Sometimes it will have gone well, a flashy confrontation between two showmen.  This Atrius will be invigorated, smiling and proud.  And glimpse of the old champion.  But recently, it has all to often been a different Atrius who has returned, a man who has just killed for his own survival, soaked in a mix of his own blood and someone elses.  Until he gets clean, he remains silent.[/sblock][sblock=Character Sheet]Atrius, level 6Half-Elf, BardBardic Virtue: Virtue of ValorArcane Implement Proficiency: Arcane Implement Proficiency (heavy blade group)FINAL ABILITY SCORESStr 13, Con 16, Dex 14, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 19.STARTING ABILITY SCORESStr 13, Con 13, Dex 14, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16.AC: 20 Fort: 17 Reflex: 17 Will: 19HP: 58 Surges: 10 Surge Value: 14TRAINED SKILLSArcana +8, Bluff +12, Intimidate +12, Acrobatics +9, Athletics +8UNTRAINED SKILLSDiplomacy +10, Dungeoneering +4, Endurance +6, Heal +4, History +4, Insight +6, Nature +4, Perception +4, Religion +4, Stealth +5, Streetwise +8, Thievery +5FEATSBard: Ritual CasterLevel 1: Arcane Implement ProficiencyLevel 2: Melee Training (Charisma)Level 4: ToughnessLevel 6: Weapon Focus (Heavy Blade)Feat User Choice: Mounted CombatFeat User Choice: Focused Expertise (Longsword)POWERSBard at-will 1: War Song StrikeBard at-will 1: Guiding StrikeDilettante: EyebiteBard encounter 1: Shout of TriumphBard daily 1: Slayer's SongBard utility 2: Song of CourageBard encounter 3: Charger's CallBard daily 5: Stirring ShoutBard utility 6: Mighty SprintITEMSRitual Book, Vicious Longsword +2, Magic Hide Armor +2, Breach Bracers (heroic tier), Amulet of Health +1, Everburning Torch, Pouch, Belt (empty), Dagger, Potion of Healing (heroic tier), Alchemical Reagents (Arcana) (20), DrumRITUALSTraveler's Chant, Explorer's Fire, Battlefield Elocution[/sblock][sblock=On Things Gladiatorial]Why Atrius Fights:  Originally, it was for the crowds.  Now it is more a matter of survival, they may have dragged him down, but he won't give up.  And even at his bleakest moments, when placed on the sand, with a sword in his hand. . . losing is still anathema to him.What Atrius Would Do If Free:  Fame is and always has been his desire.  He wants the stories of future generations to be about him.  He sought his fame through the arenas, but has realized now the futility of that path.  The old stories are always of heroes who did things, righted wrongs, protected the weak.  If he escapes, his ultimate goal will be to find someone who needs him, so that he can start his climb once again.But for now he will be content to escape, and get free of this city.  The arenas have brought him in contact with peoples and races from across the world.  He has only ever heard of these places, perhaps it is time to see them.Given complete free reign, his first stop will be Grimmhammer's homeland, far to the north.  While training under him, Atrius often listened to the orc's stories of home, and although it fell by the wayside, he still has a promise to keep for an old friend.[/sblock][sblock=On The Gladiators]Caged Fury: The panther, eh?  Seems inoffensive enough.  A useful one to have standing by your side on the sand, but not one for friendship outside the ring.Kadaj: He plays the game well.  We've established a good working relationship to keep us alive.  But I wouldn't call him a friend.  He's very dark, driven by some secret that he doesn't speak of much.Following Darkness: I find him unsettling to say the least.  Not exactly alive, not exactly dead.  His single minded devotion to killing is disturbing to watch.  There are plenty of gladiators who care nothing for the show, but his driven purpose is something else alltogether.Q'ynn Daelrith: He seems to have forgotten that we're all slaves here.  Holding himself apart will not make any friends in a place where it is very dangerous to have only enemies.Pirx Daywatcher: The goblin had the right idea.  Give the people a show, and they won't care about anything else.  Then he went and got himself killed.  I half think this place is haunted by him, though.Rodeh: We haven't spoken much.  Mostly I'm glad I haven't had to face him in the ring, yet.  Still, he seems a decent enough sort, a proud warrior, but not one who delights in the slaughter.  There is something odd about his behavior though.Scholar: This one bears watching.  Too smart to be a slave in the arena or anywhere else.  He seems a little mercurial, but a good source of information, if you've the need. Vecnite: Frankly dangerous, and not just to those facing him.  One day they'll just put him down rather than deal with his wild anger.  We'll probably all be a little safer.[/sblock]</blockquote>

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