Scourge of Pereth
Half-Orc Ronin magus from the far eastern lands of Soset. Formerly a reluctant pirate, Davos seeks to hone his skill with blade and magic to bring honor to the family name upon which his very existence brings shame.
Davos is a little over 6 feet tall, with lean muscles. His skin is terra-cotta and roughened from a life outdoors and time at sea, and his hair is thick and black. To conceal his own orcish features, a tusked mouth and slit-nose, Davos wears a laquered oni-mask, its fearsome visage painted garishly and topped with a bushy green wig. His armor is a laquered leather cuirass and armored kilt in the Soset design, featuring brilliant blue and green stripes. At his left side, tied in a wide green sash, he wears a paired set of slightly curved single-edged blades, one long and one short, the hilts wrapped in muted blue cloth.
I never knew my mother or the orc who raped her during a raid. She died giving birth to me and for all I know my father continued raiding for a while until someone killed him. I understand most orcs die young, but I take no pleasure in the thought of his death.
I was born in the far eastern lands of Soset, and my uncle, Kull Karig, raised me in my mother’s stead. He never said he blamed me for her death, but it was clear enough in his eyes. There was no love between us, but I did earn a measure of respect by taking every lesson he gave me and excelling at it, whether it was history, sword fighting, or magic. Karig was one of the rare Magi among the families we travelled with. He kept my nature concealed, mostly keeping me out of sight of others, which helped me to focus on my lessons instead of wasting my time playing. Despite all this, I still know that my very existence brings shame and dishonor upon the family, and Karig compounded the shame by allowing me to live and training me.
When he felt I was trained as well as he could train me, he gave me the swords we had forged together, and armor I trained with, and sent me out into the world, essentially washing his hands of me.
I wandered as a Ronin, masterless and hiding my face behind the mask of an Oni, for a year before I woke one morning with a splitting headache and seasickness. I had been pressed into service on a pirate ship, captained by Hunald the Red. I do not like to remember this chapter of my life. The less said the better.
I managed to jump ship in the port of Garda in Samalay. I remain masterless, but now I try to atone for both my existence and the horrors I was forced to take part in as a pirate under Hunald’s fist.