Post by hawke on Nov 16, 2015 5:58:42 GMT
Name: Samir
Race: Kenku
Age: 31
Height: 5"2
Weight: Flyweight
Past Profession: Enforcer
Around other Kenku, Samir stands out as a few things. Taller, for one. Perhaps a bit more brutish. Almost certainly, should one have the ill fortune of hearing him open his beak, stupider.
Samir's cloak conceal most of his features, though one can see the occasional dark brown feather peeking out from the hems. His talons, harder to conceal, are a pale grey, and his beak appears somewhat shorter than average. These somewhat predatory features (and surely disposition) suggest hawkblood at some point in his lineage, although the nuances of genealogy are perhaps not the best subject to discuss in the current environment.
Prior to his unfortunate marooning in the doomed isle of Siranda. Samir was what one might consider the “muscle” for a small flock of kenku. The role was largely uneventful; birdfolk are naturally skittish, and, barring the occasional squabble with a rival band of kobolds, halflings, or particularly anemic dwarfs, the flock generally preferred to avoid confrontation with larger, better-armed adversaries. Still, kenku being kenku, the occasion would rise where running away was not the immediate answer, and for that Samir would prove his otherwise questionable use.
This of course changed one day when an otherwise normal job—steal some sort of magical device from some rich fool in Luskan—went horribly awry. The mark must have expected trouble, as instead of their prize, Samir's flock were instead greeted with a rather lethal surprise.
The events that followed were something of a blur; chaos, as the group splinted. Panic, as a chase ensued down the city streets. Confusion, as stalls were overturned in the fisher's market. And finally, relief, as the few successful escapees managed to commandeer a small fishing vessel in the wharf. Escape seemed certain, until the group's unfortunate streak saw them caught in a current drifting out to sea.
After an indeterminate number of days adrift, the small craft was stuck by a summer squall. While attempting to control the craft, Samir was struck by debris and thrown overboard, unconscious.
When he finally came to, Samir had washed ashore amidst the ship's wreckage, not far from a town. In the distance, he could see a party of humans approaching the shore. But something seemed... off. Did men normally walk with such a slow, shambling gait?
Race: Kenku
Age: 31
Height: 5"2
Weight: Flyweight
Past Profession: Enforcer
Around other Kenku, Samir stands out as a few things. Taller, for one. Perhaps a bit more brutish. Almost certainly, should one have the ill fortune of hearing him open his beak, stupider.
Samir's cloak conceal most of his features, though one can see the occasional dark brown feather peeking out from the hems. His talons, harder to conceal, are a pale grey, and his beak appears somewhat shorter than average. These somewhat predatory features (and surely disposition) suggest hawkblood at some point in his lineage, although the nuances of genealogy are perhaps not the best subject to discuss in the current environment.
Prior to his unfortunate marooning in the doomed isle of Siranda. Samir was what one might consider the “muscle” for a small flock of kenku. The role was largely uneventful; birdfolk are naturally skittish, and, barring the occasional squabble with a rival band of kobolds, halflings, or particularly anemic dwarfs, the flock generally preferred to avoid confrontation with larger, better-armed adversaries. Still, kenku being kenku, the occasion would rise where running away was not the immediate answer, and for that Samir would prove his otherwise questionable use.
This of course changed one day when an otherwise normal job—steal some sort of magical device from some rich fool in Luskan—went horribly awry. The mark must have expected trouble, as instead of their prize, Samir's flock were instead greeted with a rather lethal surprise.
The events that followed were something of a blur; chaos, as the group splinted. Panic, as a chase ensued down the city streets. Confusion, as stalls were overturned in the fisher's market. And finally, relief, as the few successful escapees managed to commandeer a small fishing vessel in the wharf. Escape seemed certain, until the group's unfortunate streak saw them caught in a current drifting out to sea.
After an indeterminate number of days adrift, the small craft was stuck by a summer squall. While attempting to control the craft, Samir was struck by debris and thrown overboard, unconscious.
When he finally came to, Samir had washed ashore amidst the ship's wreckage, not far from a town. In the distance, he could see a party of humans approaching the shore. But something seemed... off. Did men normally walk with such a slow, shambling gait?
