Born in the village of Finnsr, young Kol became a guard after the remaining men were conscripted into some nobleman’s army. This was the way of village life; playthings of which ever noble born ruled at the moment. Few of those men returned from that campaign…. and none of them whole. A few quiet years passed before the next war began. A scion of the house Fel came through the village drafting any and all fighting age men. Kol and the others were given little choice. For every man who refused, a random family would be executed. In the close knit community, this was no choice at all.
Kol was a good fighter but nothing had prepared him for the insanity of battle. Before long, strong wine provided the only escape into sleep. The worse was yet to come. Fel’s army was suddenly and inexplicably in full retreat and Kol’s own village was their last stand. Kol found himself battling an enemy he neither hated nor even knew among the ruins of his home. It was a nightmare from hell. Families he’d grown up with, protected, lay bloody in the dirt, burned in their homes, or sat screaming in madness. When the battle was all but over, Kol found himself at the ruins of his house. His father’s moon carved wooden medallion and the little book of scriptures his mother had left him were still in the small box hidden under the floor along with a small pouch of money. He’d just placed them in his pack when there was a flash of yellow-red light and the fire that melted half his face.
Kol awoke to sounds belonging to the city of Amporios. Beyond the sounds of a port city, there was little beyond pain, vision through bandages and a bottle of spirits some dwarven khirurgen had given him “for the pain.” Stumbling through town, the soldier attempted nothing more than to drink away the pain seared into the right side of his face but the slumming dandy would leave him alone. Kol never knew the man’s name… just as the fool never saw the heavy length of wood that caved in the back of his skull. Nor did he feel the cold water close over his head. Kol was able to find his cousin and only remaining family. Thige, proprietor of the disreputable dock-side bar, The Sunken Scow, helped Kol buy a leaky shack across the alley. Every so often, a fool would fail to return home or a thief would turn up floating and the few blocks around the Scow were a little safer if not much saner. Kol never took sides, only the money for more wine. In this way, the neighborhood learned a sword could be bought provided the cash was good. But they also steered clear of the scar faced man whenever possible.
Recently, a new gang, the Rock Snakes, angered Kol. He took it personally and went after their leader, Corbret Thorsbane. The elf weapon smith, Finn, accompanied Kol as they tracked the foul dwarf to the warehouse district. Kol lit a fire to distract any Rock Snakes in the warehouse and then moved in to confront Thorsbane. The elf took the lead but couldn’t handle the dwarf. Kol stepped up. The arrogant dwarf showed a large amount of disrespect for Kol by attacking only with a dagger. That proved the dwarf’s undoing. Kol cut him down and took Thorsbane’s Axe. By this time, the fire had gotten out of control and Kol was forced to chose between a Keg ‘o Nog and saving the elf. He saved the elf, went back for the Nog and carried both to the Doctor Dwarf. The fire had spread even more (luckily, no one knows that Kol is responsible) and Doctor Dwarf had his nose hairs in a twist about the boy again. Kol elected to follow the dwarf on board a ship to tract down the kid. On the up side, Kol got to beat the crap out of Talathel… it’s the little things in life.