Darak

Previous boat builder, now head-assault engineer, Darak is known for being a rowdy drunk Adunakhori, and prone to get into trouble. He’s quite adept at showing aggression in combat, and will often lead an assault.

grown up among the many other Adunakhori children in Umbar, Darak always dreamt of greater things as a child. But as the son of a boatbuilder, there were small prospects for his future apart from splinters, an early marriage and a boring life. Yet as he grew, he always held the stories of heroism and adventure, of the many Adunakhori, who fought in Umbars armies. As he grew up, strong, tall and angry, the childhood fantasies of heroism faded, and a sullen bitterness took over. He started fights where none where necessary, started drinking earlier than most, and broke the faces of those who might question him on it. He didnt know it himself, but in reality he was afraid. Afraid that his time would run out, that his youth would surpass him before ever achieving anything with his life apart from some average fishing boats. In an attempt to vent his frustrations (that would end up saving his life), he spent his pent up anger on training. He would go deep into the woods, a large axe over his shoulder, and start chopping, hacking, slashing, throwing, doing anything he could to spend himself to the point of exhaustion. He started running for hours on end, and when that became too easy, he fashioned a simple vest filled with iron scraps and nails, adding more and more weight to himself. As the years went on, in the shadows of oaks and pines, Darak became a beast of physical strength. His fear and frustration was still there, but it was… contained.

In the meantime he grew both more isolated and popular. While the regular people of his village feared him, his temper and his size, the local fighting men were awed by him. even other TÂrks, themselves stronger, and more built for war than any shara. Many times he was challenged to friendly matches of strength, but before long, it was obvious that he was the strongest warrior in the entire area. It didn't matter that he had never held a sword in his life. His sheer overpowering might was enough to win him most bouts, and when even that did not suffice, he was still impressively fast when not weighed down by metal. In the fighting he found a strange kind of peace, a singular focus that he had lacked for years, and he started hungering for it.

Everything changed for him when the call came.The legendary group of warriors, Ar Ardunaim, were seeking fighting men to bolster their ranks. And they were led by none other than The Son of the Sea, Zagär himself - a Adunakhori, who had already made a name for himself, bringing home the heads of far away kings and princes. There was no question in Daraks mind. The dreams of heroism of his youth blossomed in his chest like a volcano finally bursting. Before the sun had set on that very same day, the dust of his home rose from his boots as he travelled for the Training camp. A small bag of coins in his belt, an axe on his shoulder and a heart bursting with anticipation, he strode down the road to his destiny. For Ar Ardunaim and for glory.