[Hider=Csakan of Korson]
Name: Csakan of Korson  
 
Age and Gender: 43, Male 
 
Appearance:  The very image of a campaign hardened Kuman horse raider if Csakan is not the genuine article he is at the very least a convincing forgery. Born to a saddle with a back broadened by bowstrings he is tall, solidly built and agile, the sort of man that can cow a riled dog with sheer physical presence  alone. A ferociously quiet individual Csakan speaks only as he must, his blue eyes prone to mirroring the militant expression that conceals his face proper, recognized more for this metal mask than what lay beneath. Perpetually congested, prone to nosebleeds.  
 
Like a horse and its saddle he is seldom seen sans armor, the leather, felt and iron that layer his silhouette having faded from former glory during decades of service. An ornamental hilt and several inches of swept iron fill his scabbard before abruptly stopping, the broken blade of little use as anything beyond a memento.  
 
 
[hider=Equipment in the order it is put on:] 
 
*Brocaded silk trousers. Blue with white and yellow. Faded 
*Sturdy horse-hide boots. Calf height. Comfortable in a stirrup. Worn. 
*Brocaded silk Kaftan. Sleeveless, ankle length. Blue with white and yellow. Faded. 
*Goatskin cuirass. Thin. Scratched. 
*Short-sleeved mail hauberk. Iron. A few knicks. 
*lamellar cuirass with felt disks reinforcing the chest and back. Iron. Weathered. 
*Sturdy horse-hide gloves. Mid-forearm length. Comfortable gripping reins.
*Conical Iron helmet with chain aventail and ornate iron face mask. Enameled, white. Embossed with mustache. Pristine. 
*Belt and harness to carry bow case, quiver and sword at his hips and small almond shaped shield on his back. 
*A particularly sturdy spear. 
*A swift mare from the steppes, saddled with blanket and bags, several javelins. [/hider] 
 
 
Culture and Religion: Altiac (Western-Khanate Kuman, Kochoba Clan), Tengrism 
 
Backstory:  
 
 
Csakan omits much of his life before Toletum from discussion, the ex-nomad having settled in the Gothic capital after a lengthy westward pilgrimage. In the three years that followed he has amassed modest wealth in the service of a notorious money lender. Fulk, Csakan's employer, plagues the smallfolk of the capital with his predatory loan practices and murderous goons, buying blind-eyes when he needs to, plucking them out when he can't. That's not prose, a jar of these 'medical oddities' adorns his desk, ever the boon in negotiations. 
 
The name this former Kochoba clansman has made for himself is not a kind one, often whispered to misbehaving children in lieu of a more fitting bogeyman. Hervey Ironface, the Blue dog of Toletum and the Alley-plucker ranking among the more inventive monikers cooked up by his unadoring public. The deeds that garnered them however are nowhere near as whimsical, murder the very least of his crimes. Driven and merciless the more superstitious members of the community attribute his inhuman tolerance for pain to eastern mysticism which has admittedly made debt collection marginally easier. Of particular note he was stabbed in a tavernside altercation last solstice and it stands on rumor he didn't so much as flinch, let alone cry out in pain--since then gossip persists that his armor is empty. Nonesense and exaggeration surely. [/hider]