Anklin

Player: Krilari

Character Full Name: Anklin Griummun

Character In-Game Name: Anklin

Nickname(s): ‘Chef’, ‘Anky’

Association(s): Kul’Tiras, Kul’Tiras Navy, The Alliance

Race: Human

Class: Runemaster (OOC Warrior)

Age: 33

Sex: Male

Hair: Red

Eyes: Brown

Weight: 234 Lbs

Height: 5’ 11”

Skills and Abilities:

‘I’ll Make a Man out of You’ - Anklin is only a novice in the arts of Runes, and thus he hasn’t the opportunity to collect all of the runes that are available to him. However he does have quite a few collected from his days spent in the Kul’tiras navy, most of them focusing on Healing and Protection.

‘Spellcrafting 101’ - Even though only a novice, Anklin works tirelessly to expand his perception of runes, going so far as to even try and craft his own. While many have been met with failure and unfortunate consequences, he has managed to finish one.

Mark of Intoxication - Strikes made may cause the target to become intoxicated.

Appearance: For the most of his sailing years, Anklin had be clad in simplistic leathers accompanied by a unfitting chef’s hat. To this day that only holds slight truth, as in his recent practices, Anklin has foregone his leathers in favor of lighter cloth and his weapons in favor for his fists. Even still, not all of it has changed. If not for profession, then simply habit, Anklin seems to still wield his chef’s hat as if a symbol of pride.

Personality: With a sanity saturated with seasalt, Anklin fits the mindset of a common sailor, though with only one key difference- common sense. Aside from such a mystical gift, Anklin finds his mind easily occupied with the mirages of wenches and brew at the local inn. In terms of morals, he’s far from a paladin, though still has some sense of what is right and wrong in the world as he frowns upon things such as excessive torture and mutilation.

History:

“Now this is a story all about how My life got flipped turned upside down And I'd like to take a minute just sit right there I'll tell you how I Was born on a place called 'TB'

In Tol-Barad born and raised On the beach is where I spent most of my days Chillin' out, fishin' relaxin' all cool And gutting some fish fresh out of the pool Until some Orcs who were up to no good Started makin' trouble in my neighborhood I got in one little boat and my crew was prepared And said "You're gonn' be rich when y'kill the orc over there!"

I boozed and betted, day after day but shit-faced fighting became me in every way gave me a sword and gave me a biscuit The longer we fought, my crew found buckets and they kicked it! Second war, Yo this is bad Sinkin' ships with a jugger' blast Is this what fightin' orcs is like? Hmmm, we're in for a fight!

But wait, I hear they're mean, burly and all that Is this the type of fight for this chef hat? I don't think so, I'll need a hand there Perhaps these runes will give some power to share?

Well, uh, the ship sank and when I came out There was a raft, looked like a solid way out I was in for hell, I thought I just got out! I paddled with a quickness like lightning! Disappeared!

I looked for a job and when it came near The hull said 'F.B." and had booze in the rear! If anything I could say this ship was bare But I thought "Let's do it! Yo Cap'n, hold there!"

I pulled up some bottles, about seven or eight and I yelled to the crewmen. "Ey boys, come get some beer!" Looked at my kitchen, I was finally there To sit on my stool, as the chef of Frost-brand.”

Opposing the chef sat a paladin, clad in purple with a quill halted upon a piece of paper. For a good long moment he stared at the chef, utter perplexity upon his expression before he would slowly nod. “Ah... right... An interesting story... What’s your name again?”

The chef nodded simply. “Anklin Grimmun.”

“And.. did you say something about runes in there?"

"Aye, the ship I was workin' on made a pit stop over in Menethil Harbor. We were docked there for a few good months. I figure I'd go about and learn a thing or two about fightin', given them dwarves can put up one helluva brawl. Turns out I ran into one'a those Runemaster fellas." The chef moved back part of his clothing, revealing just the start of an intricate runic pattern inked into his skin.

"I take it he taught you then?" The paladin raised a brow, seeming to have finally calmed down from the chef's previous act.

"Aye, though it took a lotta convincing. He was a stern buck, I'll give y'that. Hell, I couldn't even finish me training. I only got part way through till we set sail an' went back to sluggin' orcs."

"Right... So long as you won't cause a ruckus with the orcs, I suppose everything will work out fine." The paladin rose, soon working his way towards the depths of the ship, grumbling. "I need a drink.."