NAME:  Korak
RACE:  Shobhad
CLASS: Savage

   A bit smaller than most of his race, but at around ten
 foot tall, he still strikes an imposing figure. His grayed physique shows
 nothing but muscle and scars. His eye's are a dark gray and his hair is jet
 black, shaved on the sides and hangs down his back. It's obvious he takes
 care of himself, yet is no stranger to a good scrap. As if that wasn't enough
 to make one think twice about facing him, Korak has four freaking arms the
 size of small oak trees.
   On his back is a quality pack that carries all his gear. When out in the
 world he wears hides and leathers for protection, but mostly his loincloth
 and soft leather boots is all he wears. The bandoleer across his chest has
 four Tomahawks tucked into custom sheaths crafted by him. A large
 stout looking bow and quiver of arrows are strapped to his pack. Also over
 his shoulder you see a large axe that looks as mean as Korak. Everything
 looks well taken care of which could be expected by one that relies on what
 he can carry.

    Korak has a heart of gold and loyal to a fault for those
 he calls friends, to others, not so much. With an easy going sense of humor
 and a 'slight' sarcastic side it's easy to make acquaintances but he chooses
 his friends carefully. To him they're family, almost as much as his adopted
   He lives life to the fullest, enjoying a cool ale or twelve, a friendly
 brawl or a night of soft company every chance he gets. If all three come to
 pass, well Hell, that's as good as a whole slab of bacon. In spite of his
 appearance he's the quintessential nice guy, until the time comes where nice
 just isn't going to cut it.

   When Friar Magnus found Korak he was bloodied and barely
 breathing. A dead Ogre laid at his feet and a large axe, as big as the young
 Shobhad, was still clutched in his hands. The rest of the scene was just as
 chaotic. Four other Shobhads laid lifeless. Two adults and two other
 younglings, a male and female. A dozen other Ogres also laid there in the
 dirt. Korak's family did not go down without a fight.
   He woke briefly, in the back of a wagon, covered in a blanket. He had no
 idea why he was there he only knew his head hurt, and every part of him
 ached. He had dreamt his family was wiped out. He was killed along with his
 mother, father, twin brother and little sister. At least it was only a dream.
 Was he still dreaming?
   When next he woke he was in a cabin on a bed of furs in front of a warm
 fire, it was burning strong and it warmed his bones. He didn't move but from
 what he could see of the room he wasn't home. He could hear a voice talking
 in a low tone and he picked up some of the words. "They were hit by a large
 band of them, They never stood a chance…. No, there were no other survivors
 save the lad.... When I found the lad he was clinging to life himself." His
 eyes started to burn and he could feel the wetness on his cheeks. It hadn't
 been a dream. His family was gone.
   Korak had been found by Friar Magnus a Cleric of Cayden Cailean, not
 knowing what else to do with the young boy, he took the lad to the village of
 his good friend, Braydon Talon and his family.  Uncle Magnus, as Korak became
 to call him, had mentioned taken the orphan to the missionaries when he
 returned home but Sara Talon, the wife of Braydon, would have no word of it.
 “Aw, Magnus. You silly old fool, you know I would not let you take this boy
 beyond my home. Sly of you it is, but he is one of us now. And that’s the end
 of it” she said. Magnus  winked and Braydon grinned, not another word was
 said. Korak now had another family. Over the next thirteen or so years Korak
 lived, loved and trained with his adopted family. Not just the Talons but the
 whole Clan took him in and he was one of them, honing his skills till he was
 becoming one of their best.
   Braydon Talon had been a scout and warrior of some renown. Like Magnus,
 Sara Talon was a Cleric of Cayden Cailean. The three of them had been members
 of the Deathbell Guild. Rumor had it, they were part of a sect of the Guild
 that were more clandestine and got shit done. Although they were now all but
 retired they were still respected in the Guild. Once Korak was ready it only
 made sense he would show up at Deathbell with a letter of intent. Signed by
 Braydon, Sara and Uncle Magnus.