[hider=Kazahk Es'Cur]


[B]Name: Kazahk Es'Cur[/b]
[B]Age: 29[/b]
[B]Gender: Male[/b]
[B]Species: Dark Elf/ Drow[/b]
 
[B]Physical Description:[/b]
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[hider=Basically this, but Drow'd out][img]http://40.media.tumblr.com/647c1d498512e3702128f6f6f56c30e4/tumblr_mvrae0cBas1rrrugio1_500.jpg[/img][/hider]
Kazahk is an admirable Drow specimen, save for the fact his journeys are written on his body, and his character shows through his scars as well. Black markings linger on lithe limbs and exposed skin in intricate patterns, some intentional and others incriminating, crisscrossed with puckered scars that linger much like their memories. His dark gray skin provides a stark contrast for his bleached hair, so there is no mistaking his ancestry. He keeps his shoulder length hair tied into a knot behind his head with a bone or such to secure it, beads and braids dangling from the mess. His face is marred with habitual scruff and a noticeable nic of a scar on his upper lip, giving his stern and gaunt cheeks a sinister look. This is exaggerated by dark bags under his eyes that seem very furtive with light blue pupils, and the shiny silver incisor that lies in his grin. He sits comfortable above most Men, but Elvish company looks him in the eye. He is rather brawny for his kind, having taken up the weapons and tactics(not to mention habits) of the stout men of the north.

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[B]Skillset:[/b]
[INDENT]
Surprisingly, the Drow indoctrination has stuck with Kazahk well into his later years, and therefore shrewd tactical and diplomatic skills come naturally to him, along with many written languages(a few which he speaks), lower maths, and basic proficiency with most martial weapons, and many ranged ones. His time in Nightwood taught him basic survivalism along with tracking and sneaking, though archery, herbalism, botany, and craftsmanship were lost upon the boy. His travels northward refined his kleptomania and taught him merchant ways of haggling and economics, which he took a keen interest in and considers himself more than proficient in those arts. Suffering though imprisonment and the land of the north has given him an unusual knack for endurance also, along with a favoring toward the more brawn based combat of axes spears and heavy armor. If there is one combat skill he excels at, it is unarmed, hand-to-hand combat due to the many instances in his life that have trained and forced him to rely on his bare hands. Martial arts come naturally to him; his brawn, stature, and endurance make him a vicious fighter if forced, and Brand's teachings of agility and swiftness magnify this. All together this dark elf is a tough survivor that can handle many situations. 
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[B]History:[/b]
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Kazahk was born into a warrior caste of Drow that instilled strict and militaristic doctrine into their youth, and served a monarchy faithfully. His earliest memories are of martial training and mental exercises that were intended to mold him into a contributing dark elf. Success was rewarded handsomely, failure punished severely. It is here that Kazahk's nature was inflicted, and festered like a malicious wound. He struck out against his fellow students, unsubordinated his teachers, deceived his friends, and learned that there is more than one way to beat a system. After a nasty incident of kleptomania left him to be removed of the ownership of his hand, he decided to leave his only place in the world up to that point. At only seven he ran away into the surface world, descending the foothills of a mountain and into the plains of a land that was foreign to him. He wandered for days, weeks perhaps, using those principles instilled into him to eek out something that wasn't death but was not much of a life. 

When he came down a path and to a forest, he sought shelter. This was Nightwood, and as the Drow runaway would find out, Brand called this place home with his adopted family. Kazahk was desperate, but not rash. No, he could not be rash though the lesson the rod taught him. He discovered the home, the camps, the family of Brand and for a short time made due on discarded scraps, and even stole outright rarely. Brand nearly ran him through when he was finally discovered rummaging through a sack at a camp he thought abandoned. Brand saw the desperation and abuse in Kazahk however and brought him under his wing, showing him how to utilize his former doctrines to his advantage, and to adopt new ones to learn the wilds and forestry. 

Old habits die hard however, and Kazahk never did take all the old man's mannerisms to heart. It was just enough to keep him together, but never enough to make it work. His years with his new family were filled with good memories, but unhealthy envy would grow in the young drow's heart. While he made mischief in the neighboring villages, his younger siblings like Masef and Quinn took Brand's lessons far better then he did. He picked on that young elf, prying and using bully tactics that had been used on himself in the Drow underworld to try and find out what the High Elf knew, but alas, Quinn was just as much a orphan as Kazahk. As his stay neared it's end, the red haired sister of his wished to change her name, to which Kazahk offered a simple human pseudonym of Olivia. Being a drow, he valued what little anonymity he could find, but the girl refused, instead adopting Lysandra as her new name. She was one of the siblings that Kazahk's abrasiveness attitude did not seem to bother, perhaps for her young curiosity of his unique heritage. In his later years, he would often wonder how things would have been different between them if he had not been so set in his ways. 

Resentment steadily grew until he bickered with his fellows, rebelled against his adopted father, and sought freedom just like he had to begin with. He was one of the older orphans in the group at that time, and that status inflated his importance. He mistook Brand of the Nightwood's teaching and learning for the brainwashing of his Drow home. Soon careless words were said, filled with hate. A stepbrother rose up in defense([b]NPC: Tagersson[/b]), a fight ensued. Blood was shed, life was lost, and Kazahk fled at the age of seventeen. 

The last dozen years have been a blur to the dark elf. He has experienced pain and pleasure on the flood plains to the east, were the succulent Vogg river makes the soil dark and the people fat. Kazahk journeyed north to find out about Tagerdson, but only found the gallows and gulags of the icy plateau of Jirokain, where the northmen call home and the Jarl Vitek currently wishes him dead. The sickle of substance abuse found him and followed through his journey though the King’s land, the Baroness of Daggergrove and her purse funding many an evil deed. He heard rumors of a redheaded assassin at the time, but never did investigate, though he did inwardly wonder when the story mentioned a name of 'Olivia', and Lysandra quickly came to his mind. He nurtured friends and relationships when his pockets grew fat on caravans from the sands of Err as he took wares to trade, he was certain Masef would find his way into the sands and attempted to track him down, but quickly regressed when he thought about the contempt that his family members must harbor for him. He knew fear and despair has sickness took hold of him and those around him before he fled the coastal metropolis of Rostas Blut. 

He has grown hard and callous due to his travels, but yearns for those simple times he had at Nightwood. When Kazahk heard of the only farther he had known had died under cruel hands, he immediately sought for vengeance, but the soft words of the late man spoke to him, reminding him that first he must see to burial before a warpath was to begin. He wishes to make amends for the blood spilt and the ideals he did not honor for much of his life, and that is why he returns. 
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[B]Psychological Profile:[/b]
[INDENT]
Kazahk is a very defiant and rebellious figure, stubborn and headstrong with a furtive glare and a stern demeanor. Many of those qualities are cultivated and preferred in men of rank, to be decisive and blunt, strong in character and voice, and to be eager and efficient in their decision making. These are all characteristics that he has, but greed, jealousy, pride, and hatred have seeped into his moral fiber to taint and cloud his judgment if the narcotics and women do not. He is one to hold a grudge, and to seek out and eye for an eye, if not more. If it is worth doing, it is worth doing right. His Drow sense of pride does not allow for laziness or half-hearted promises or works, and therefore he may not be an elf of high moral ground, he does not shy away from good deeds. There is a habitual bitterness that is prone to come to his demeanor, but his irate behavior stems directly to his environment and circumstance in life. For instance, he is a merry and generous fellow when coin and good health favor him, but shackled to an oar or on the run for murder you will find a cantankerous and deceiving individual. 

He does wish to better himself, knowing that all his negative aspects can be humbled and improved upon. He does not wish to permeate the toxic Drow upbringing he had, and refuses to allow to be stereotyped by his race. He knows there is good and an admirable way to live in this world, because for a short time he lived and experienced under the wing of Brand and his adopted kin. Deep under his habits and callous ways he strives to see that way be the ruling one in this world, and perhaps even follow that way himself. However, knowing he has failed many times to uphold this ideal makes him pessimistic. This denial fuels his journey back home, and perhaps turning a new leaf for Kazahk.
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[B]Equipment:[/b] 
[list][*]Short Sword, [hider=woo 2spooky][img]https://40.media.tumblr.com/3f860b784be9df7adbbd50acb525207f/tumblr_nhft25SKXS1rrjmgoo1_1280.jpg[/img][/hider]most likely cursed if the merchant he stole it from is to be believed. 
[*]Small Axe, usually for utilitarian purposes but can be thrown 
[*]Large Bearded Axe, stored away unless battle is assured.
[*]Spear, mostly used as a walking staff or riding weapon in the saddle
[*]Horse, singular, that he has known for three winters now and is familiar with it's habits.
[*]Rucksacks, divided between a bag on his person and a larger sack stowed on his steed. His sleeproll and other such small traveling utilities are stored here.
[*]Drowish Crossbow, for as much as the old man's teachings went over his head, he still understands the power of a ranged weapon. a small quiver of bolts sits on his belt.
[*]Leather armor, layered thrice thick on his chest and likewise on his limbs, his mobility is maintained with little sleep lost on his defense. 
[*]Steel Mail, worn under his leather, protecting most of his center mass.
[*]Cloak with fur lining, from his northern escapades that can take the bite out of the harshest of icy winds.
[/list]



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