Khazka

Orc Warrior-Priest, played by Jesse.

Backstory/Origin

Khazka StoneBlood, found by the Nigelites, enraged giant half-orc fighter/priest operating catapult on his own firing at Marckall’s tower. Corpses of his brethren are scattered about between him and the tower. He is shouting curses at Marckall Coplonra. And telling his god, Gruumsh to watch as he avenges his brothers at arms and mashes the puny human in red.

Khazka had his tribe and neighboring tribes all but exterminated by elves in the far distant Dark Hills to the North East. He has since been traveling with his small war party searching for a new home. They thought they had found one in these woods killing trolls and collecting money from the merchants in Sirenton for safe passage, until Marckall showed up and began trying to pry Khazka and his troupe into serving in tha mage’s army. Khazka didn’t give Marckall much thought as he built a tower in the …end of the forest until his minions began driving most of the wildlife from the forest and began clear-cutting the half-orcs new home. Khazka carries a two-handed “Soul-Stealer”+1.

After losing the trail of Marckall, he travelled north and did a stint as a bodyguard/mercenary for the Duke of Saint Germaine before joining the Infiltrators.

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Recent Activity

Khazka has gone back to the lava fields of his youth to hunt down the giant red beast that terrorized his tribe when he was a youth. He figured if they could talk to and eventually kill the one guarding Bob's booty, that he may as well give it a shot. He was tired of dilly-dallying around Jack and Tracy's places. And was unable to talk either of them into going with him on his wild-dragon hunt. He left them both in good relations and said he would bring them each a tooth if it came down to that

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Affiliations: Nigelites, Infiltrators

Khazka's Infiltrators Campaign Prelude

Having lost the trail of Markall, feeling downtrodden and dejected, you traveled back to the Dark Hills in the northeast to see your old abandoned homeland and seek a new purpose in life. No signs of your old community remain, though artifacts of their destruction are apparent. After a few weeks of morose reflection and soul-searching, you gathered your wits and decided to seek adventure and purpose in the north, in the kingdom of Drannor.

You were aware of the hazards of Gambler's Reach, the rocky stretch of coastline plagued by bandits and pirates, but you successfully fought your way north for several days sustaining minor injuries along the way. Of particular horror to you was a battle with a dozen full-blood orcs led by a giant – they'd refused to let you pass without giving up your sword, and so you were forced to slay nine of them before the rest fled at the giant's command. As they scrambled up into the rocks, a hard rain began to fall, and you sat down in the bloody mud among nine dismembered corpses that could have been distant relatives. Praying to Gruumsh, you fell asleep filled with despair.

You awoke with a start, surrounded by a twenty mounted armored men. What followed is a blur even now, but you remember a seemingly endless battle, to which you finally succumbed. As you fell, you spied one man in the back wore a silver circlet with a large green stone that resembled the eye of Gruumsh.

Perhaps days later, you woke up in the back of a dark covered wagon, chained tightly, wounds festering, and then faded in and out of consciousness for several more days. After three more days in a dungeon, you were brought before a magistrate who, with a yawn, began to routinely read a list of charges involving piracy, murder, and caravan raiding. As he was about to announce your execution, a squire handed him a slip of parchment – you'd been pardoned by the Duke of Saint Germaine (a city you know to be along the southern coast of Drannor).

After a few days in the infirmary, you were summoned before the Duke, a portly middle-aged man who you eventually came to know as sane but a bit barbaric, diplomatic when necessary, coldly calculating, and in rather open collusion with the Thieves Guild to ensure that southern goods passing north were well 'taxed'.

The Duke had pardoned you because of the stories from Count Zilar (the gentleman with the circlet who accompanied the caravan protection force) about your valiant battle skills and imposing appearance, and he was interested in employing you for various 'strong arm' negotiations. While you recognized the missions as perhaps ignoble, the vision you had of the Eye of Gruumsh, and the fact that the Duke saved you from execution, has led you to believe this is your destiny, at least for now.

In the six months since all this transpired, most of your tasks have taken place inside the city, but you have also accompanied three caravans from St. Germaine as far as Argyle and back again. None was 100% successful, due to raids by bandits and pirates along Gambler's Reach. The material losses have been quite significant for the northern merchants, to say nothing of the loss of life among the mercenaries employed as caravan defense forces. (As such, you've learned that simply finding able-bodied men to help defend the caravans has become difficult, despite the fact that the pay is excellent. )

Intriguingly, now the Duke has requested that you ride to the north, to the Dukedom of St. Cuthbert, for a special assignment. The 500GP (half now, half upon completion) salary for this task is somewhat meaningless to you (having few material needs and nearly 5,000GP in the well-guarded Duke's bank), but your allegiance to the Duke imbues you with purpose and you ride north that very day, arriving in St Cuthbert 14 days later.

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