Rogon used to train martial arts and study spiritual techniques with his
master for years and he was one of the best and most prosperous students.
Then came the day when pillaging forces had finally made their way to the
monastery. They took the little what they had while forcing everyone into
submission, it was a band of greedy bastards from all over Serin, taking
whatever they could on their non-stop rampage throughout the lands.
Knights, Justices, Warlords, Legions - everyone was involved in one way or
another, it was a group effort to "sophisticate" the lands and claim it's
riches back into their own domains and cities. Rogon's master was defiant
to the end and was brutally murdered before his eyes, Rogon fled the
monastery watching the pillars of flame from far in the woods and weeping
over losing his only family he ever had. He was alone again, full of
hatred, anger and despair. During his grief, he found himself in bad places
accompanied by bad people, he joined the bands of random bandits, thieves
and common criminals in order to finance his newly developed drinking habit.
He was sent into various jails and half-way houses several times, but due to
his despair and depression he did not care of what is happening to him, he
became more vile towards others and even more sickened with the society
around him. One day after getting out of the jail again, he stumbled upon
the city of Seringale, he seriously thought of renouncing his ways and try
to settle down. He looked around for guidance, he met and greeted several
Elves, Paladins and others alike - nobody seemed to care nor want to
associate with him - all of them too proud and self-important to spend their
time with some lost stranger. Then he came accross a drow dark-knight and a
vampire who were travelling together and up to no good. They accepted him
as if he would be one of their own, they were not arrogant or thinking they
are somehow better than Rogon, they took him in and treated him like a
friend. Rogon never had real friends since the incident at the monastery
and he took a great comfort knowing that he may not be truly alone anymore.
They went on beating up the farmers and fey in the Emerald Woods while
cracking jokes, drinking whiskey and having a good time. A strong bond of
brothership developed and Rogon knew that this is real and this is not
pretentious like the society around him. He realized that he does not need
the society nor the arrogance of it as long as he has his glass of whiskey
and a cigar to enjoy. Beating people up while being drunk or simply having
one of his many anger bursts offered him a great comfort to deal with his
past losses and solitary lifestyle. Rogon seemed happy, life was simple and
he did not need to grovel up to anyone in order to find company, he showed
that he is a capable ally to those who benefitted from it and developed
strong bonds with those who liked his vulgarity and hatred towards society.
Description:
Your gaze falls upon a foul-looking man standing about six feet tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Rich with scars, his sand-colored skin is stretched over muscles that are perpetually taut, and veins that pulse uncontrollably. His brow is twisted skeptically, his lip threatens to curl at any moment. His face has the deep, craggy lines of a guy who's pissed off all the time, and he has a brawler's heavy nose. The crotch of his leggings bulges noticeably, leaving little for imagination. All of his body hair has been shaved to a stubble, leaving uninterrupted a surprisingly diverse array of profane tattoos. The faded blue inkwork forms a mantle of skulls, bones, nicked weapons, nude and dissected women, unholy tentacled beasts, minotaurs, cards and dice, and wilting roses. Staggering around while trying to maintain control over his balance, he reeks strongly of booze and cigarettes.
