Vrag's story begins deep within the Redhorne Mountains. He was born into
a family of moderate means, but he would not grow up to know his parents.
His family was taken from him one night when a band of thieves decided to
take more than just jewelry. As is customary for Jotun babies without
parents, he was dropped off at the orphanage. Vrag spent a number of his
younger years at this orphanage performing chores and being reprimanded
nearly all the time by corrupt caretakers. At his 7th year there, the
orphanage was invaded by Jotun Raiders and many children were taken and
caretakers slain. Vrag was among a few of the children that were sold to a
crime family as they had requested the job on the orphanage be done and
needed young members. And so his life of forced bad deeds began, doing
things that he could not justify, but had no choice for his own sake.
Years went by and Vrag was hardened by his actions, his heart blackened. He
had become a valued member of the crime family, and had stolen or taken
enough that he wanted for nothing. Sleepless nights began to wear on him
over time. Always under the thumb of the boss, never truly given an ounce
of freedom in his entire life. Every Jotun has their breaking point and
Vrag had reached his when given a job that involved killing a family that
had children. Then and there he decided he could not complete the cycle
that had started his life. After having learned everything he knew and
honing his abilities, in the cover of the night he escaped, leaving no
trace, never looking back.
Description:
Standing tall and straight, here is a man that appears to be ever
vigilant and ready for action as he has a wild look in his eyes and a
serious posture. Those eyes of wildness, piercing, deep, unforgiving blue
swirls that cannot be met without causing a shutter to the nervous system.
His teeth are a mixture of yellow and black, disgusting and vile. His skin
is a greyish dark slate that only helps to add to his dark atmosphere. He
has red and brown, hawkish, mane-like hair that covers the top middle of his
head down to the bottom of the back of his neck. His neck is bulging with a
large meaty vein running down the right side of his jugular and holds up his
shapely head. Long, sweeping arms hang from either side, never far from his
weapon of choice, with agitated fingers that twitch nervously and at the
ready.
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[reply to Grayden]