Swan Style, Savage, or Stormcaller?

The IRL Quest for this week is to describe the combat style of your character. You have a few options here, you can tell me about where and how your character was trained in the ways of death-dealing, defending, or mending. You can describe the actual style of your character; the way they move and what it might look like to an observer. Third, you can take a moment from last session's combat and write it as if you were writing a paragraph in an epic fantasy novel. Alternatively take a look at the flavor text/description of each of your ability cards and re-write them to better suit your character.

Doing any of the above (pick more than one if you want) gets you 2 action dice, and you can ask me a single yes/no question about the Shell below (Above: Elven Empire - Dispersed, Current: Drolvarg Tribes - Chained Shell, Below: ??? - ???)

EDIT: The DM Question has no time limit, save it for later or use it on Sunday.

Some things to ponder:
If you are a melee character, do you overpower your enemies with superior strength and years of battle experience, or do you use the grace of dexterity and training to end the lives of those who threaten you? Are you channeling the spirits of your ancestors as you swing your mighty axe Groljir in an ancient dance of death? Do you follow the style of the old masters, or have you pieced together your combat tricks from years of living on the streets?

As a caster, are you calling forth the spirits of the realm to ask them for their blessing, or are you ripping the energies of life from the very ground, bending them to your will. Do you know the True Name of the demon who begrudgingly granted you your powers, or do you dream of runes of power that you can call forth with a thought? Is the very power within your heart or within your mind enough to reshape reality to your will, if only for a moment?

Cumin has no formal combat training. His "staff" was once a farmer's spade but he lost the blade in his escape from the pepper plantation, and he still often drags the tool along the ground unconsciously. Cumin has no real need for honor in battle and fights mostly with his wits. His years as a slave left him all too familiar with the most painful areas on the body to be struck in, and he's not too proud to make use of kidney shots, liver punches, eye pokes, groin strikes, etc. and such methods are his first resort when lives are at stake. To an observer, the man fights with no pride or honor, appearing more like a cornered animal making sure he and his companions will be able to walk away from whatever threatens them.

Cumin does not understand his druidic powers and has not found the opportunity to safely test his limits. He listens to nature and the spiciest and strongest-tasting of plants wordlessly impart small hints about what he might be able to do. His calls to the external forces of nature lack any demand in their tone and sound as a friend asking another friend if he has a moment to spare. Cumin's control over his own shape is ungraceful but sudden. Claws, antlers, and tusks are always the first animal features of his to appear and erupt from his body as if forced through his flesh from an explosion. Fur grows suddenly in random patches until he completes his animalistic transformation.

When suddenly... the cold air seemed to set on fire around her. She blinked her eyes carefully against the scorching heat and held her breath against the acrid, searing air as the white landscape melted away into an orange glow. Several shadows stood against the backdrop of fire. A large bugbear, a giant praying mantis, an unbearable beautiful pale woman, and a not-quite-right looking man began to take form as her eyes and mind adjusted to her new surroundings. “Hell. This is Hell. At least the others don't look like a threat, yet.” Cherish indulged the thought as her survival instincts kicked in. Quickly she removed the warm hat, scarf and thick rags she'd wrapped around her armor and stowed them in her pack. Normally she kept most of her purple skin hidden from view, out of respect for the cold and her neighbors, but as she looked around the fiery opening, she drew the conclusion that things weren't going to be normal for a while. Cherish began acclimating her lungs to this new temperature of air with slow shallow breathes while pretending to rummage through her pack. She watched as the others took stock of the situation. To their credit, they seemed to react quickly and calmly, all things considered, though the pretty girl seemed very uneasy. Just as the silence grew unbearable and even Cherish felt the urge to interact, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Small flaming humanoids attacked with very little warning. Fortunately Cherish's training allowed her to react immediately, just as the first creature began his attack Cherish stared him directly in the eyes and issued a nonverbal challenge. Her stance widened and she pulled herself to the balls of her feet as she willed him to try her mettle. If this was hell, they were going to have to take her fighting. The creature met her eyes and accepted her challenge. They pretty much always did, so far none had won. Then again, she'd never fought fire before. She hoped her luck would hold.

Cherish's long limbs and grace had always given her the advantage when things got physical before. Master's drills and full contact training sessions made her strong and fast. She knew how to take a blow and how to keep her opponent’s attention. Something from too deep within her to be considered a thought, perhaps an instinct, told Cherish than the young woman was the one who most needed her protection and so she made note to keep track of the delicate woman in the skirmish. As Cherish raised her shield and short spear she could almost hear Master Yi's voice bark orders at her. “Elbows in! Step lightly! Watch their eyes, they will tell where they are going with their eyes.” With a steely resolve Cherish let thoughts fade and allowed instinct and training to take the lead in her dance with death.


Conductive Defense
At-Will ^ Standard Action
Melee 1 Target: One Creature
Keywords: Augmentable, Lightning, Psionic, Weapon
Attack: Constitution vs. Reflex
Hit: 1[W] + Constitution modifier lightning damage. Until the start of your next turn, the target takes lightning damage equal to your Constitution modifier whenever it hits one of your allies.
Cherish Flavor Text: Cherish thrusts her spear deep into her opponent's body, angling her arm outward and drawing her prey to her in a one practiced movement. She locks eyes with them and mutters “your fight is with me, not them.” The intensity of her utterance charges the air around her and sparks dance from her through the spear charring the edges of the wound the spear has already opened. “Don't make me remind you.” is just barely audible as she releases her opponent from the brief entanglement.

Nerfherder was forced into combat at a young age. Combat comes with being a member of the Cavalera clan. They have had to fight for everything; respect, honor, freedom, even a meal at times. To go against the establishment of modern day Grisalda is no easy task, and a very risky proposition. If not for the physical stature and reputation of the Cavalera clan, Nerfherder and his family would have been sentenced to death by now. The establishment understands the ramifications of killing, or even harming a member of the Cavalera clan. The public outcry could result in an all out riot. But there are those who still try to test the clan, and Nerfherder's departure will certainly leave them vulnerable. Not because Nerfherder is a particularly fierce combatant, mind you. If he had a choice, he would much prefer a peaceful existence over his lot in life. But because of his ability to inspire near hysteria and pride with a simple turn of a phrase, and to bend his foe's will until he surrenders without even drawing his weapon with a simple inflection change in his voice. His father also held great influence over others, sometimes to a fault. These skills served the Cavalera clan well for many years. His father's powers of persuasion lead to the unionization of the Bugbear people, even though he was not a high ranking official. There were those who called for him to become the official leader of the Bugbear people in Grisalda, but he declined the position with the same aplomb he used to inspire their revolution. He explained eloquently how he was a simple Bugbear, like the rest of them. But in his simplicity, he is strong like the rest of them. What sense was there in leading leaders? Everyone has the power and will to lead themselves. The Bugbear people of Grisalda had done so for centuries. Now was the time for them to unite, but no one Bugbear should hold state over another.

His speech only further inspired them to call for his immediate election, until he spoke openly in favor of a more suitable candidate. That candidate won in a landslide decision that election. Nerfherder quickly discovered his own oratory powers when he was able to convince his teachers to forgive their assignments in favor of leisure and sport. It also didn't hurt when trying to attract the attention of the female Bugbears. But Nerfherder did not realize his true powers until he was faced with the potential death of his father's best friend, Marduk.

The Cavalera clan was gathered in their secret meeting spot, celebrating the new recipients of the clan marking, when they were suddenly ambushed by a group of humans from Bathory. The humans caught the clan off guard, and in various states of intoxication, from a variety of mind and behavior altering substances. Few had the chance to draw their weapons in defense before they were struck. Nerfherder gave a battle cry, which inspired his clansmen to victory, but at the cost of a few of the new recruits. Nerfherder and his father escaped unharmed, but Marduk was badly injured. Upon seeing Marduk's motionless body, Nerfherder scooped him up and held him against his chest, Marduk's blood matting Nerfherder's fur. Nerfherder let out a ghastly cry to lament the death of his friend. After a few short moments, Nerfherder felt Marduk breathing heavily. Nerfherder slowly released his hold on Marduk, and within a few seconds, Marduk was almost completely mended, with only Nerfherder's matted fur as evidence that Marduk had even been harmed. The men looked at each other in amazement, but didn't say a word. Marduk ran his hands over his fur, checking for blood, but there wasn't a scratch on him. He shot Nerfherder a knowing look, collected his things, and returned to the meeting spot to check on the state of his fellow clansmen. Nerfherder sat for a moment in a bemused state of confusion. He looked at his hands in depth, trying to understand what had just happened. Eventually, he collected himself, and returned to the others.