[hider=The Witch King]
[b]Name:[/b] Othman Dratha, the Witch King, Lord of Iron

[b]Age:[/b] 57

[b]Gender:[/b] M

[b]Appearance:[/b] A tall, thin man of pale complexion, with angular features heavily scarred. His left eye is missing, the mangled socket is usually covered with a patch and his dark hair is greying at the temples. Dratha usually wears simple steel chest plate and armor, over which he wears a black, cowled cloak.

[b]Personality:[/b] A hard drinking man with a wry sense of humor, Dratha is a rather cool and unflappable character. He has the rare gift of a great commander: to demand fear and respect from his men, without seeming haughty, unrelatable or aloof. Years of warfare against the barbarians has deepened a native ruthless streak in him, but towards his own people he tries to be temperate and just, though a strict disciplinarian. In recent years, he has grown increasingly grim and strange, prone to trances and fits and talking to himself in alien tongues. There are whispers among the ranks that tampering with magic has made him slightly unhinged.

[hider=History]

He was born to rice farmers, in what remained of the Empire of Atlantis, at the place where the desert meets the mountains. At ten he was dragooned into the legions- at this point little more than privateers serving under Atlantaen warlords. At fifteen he had made a name for himself as a warrior and a commander, even as the legion he served devolved and fractured. At twenty he was second in command of what was left of his army, a ragged band of bandits and desperadoes, with nowhere left to run, making a living by raiding barbarian and beastmen camps. It was then his destiny changed.

His company was ambushed by beastkin in a high pass among the Wolves' Teeth. The fighting was fierce, and he cut down many of the mutant hordes, but there was no hope. Slashed across the face by a poisoned blade, half blinded and dying, he abandoned his men, taking refuge in the ruins of an ancient tomb hidden among the sandstone spires of the pass. It was there he found the Book, resting in the clutches of skeletal corpse of some ancient, nameless priest.

He could not read the ancient tongue, and yet the Book spoke to him, told him secrets, gave him hope. More than mere mortals feared the beastkin and the dark gods they served, said the Book. The northmen and their gods were not the only ones who knew of the ancient Art. [i]evil can with evil be expelled...[/i]

He emerged from the tomb, haggard and alone but filled with new life. What beastkin came forth to oppose him he slew, and slowly he gathered to himself the remnants of his lost army, and the remnants of many lost and desperate peoples, including flame-haired Hyperboreans left reeling from the Nameless Warlord's whirlwind advance out of Lemuria.

His life since has been one of near constant warfare, attempting to forge a new people and give to them the goods of a settled and secure life, the type of life he barely remembers from his youth, while fending off hordes of barbarians, beastkin and bandits. To that end, he has forged his Iron Legions from refugees of all nations, modeling his armies on those of great and ancient peoples, as the Book has taught him. 

His citadel is called Sepulchrave, a fortification high in the Wolves' Teeth mountains. It is in the highlands he has set up his kingdom, such as it is: villages huddled around re-conquered, crumbling Atlantean forts and terrace-farms hidden away in inaccessible valleys.

His wars with the barbarians and mutants have been savage. Every invasion he has countered gives birth to a new enemy. And yet the Witch-King and his Iron Legions endure. 

He has gained a reputation among the Northmen, steppe-hordes and his fellow warlords as a dangerous enemy, a skilled commander of a disciplined army, and wielder of ancient and ghastly magickes, hence his moniker. Of course, for the blood thirsty nordlings, he is everything they want in an enemy.

[/hider]

[b]Journey:[/b] Dratha's primary goal is to survive, to weather the storm, to provide his people with something of security and peace, and to honor his venerated Atlantean ancestors, who forged the greatest society yet known to the world. It is for these goals he first used the secrets of the Book, but he has become increasingly obsessed over the years with magic and history, amassing an impressive library in his Citadel through trade and the plunder of ruins. When not on campaign he spends hours pouring over scrolls of ancients sorcerers and kings, and of course in contemplation of the Book.

[b]Ideals:[/b] In a world of chaos and death, Dratha prizes Order, Discipline, Justice, and Piety to the Ancestors, and is trying to build a new state based on all three. He is also more and more interested mastery of the arcane, the High Art of the ancient wizards and the immortality promised by the Book.

[b]Holdings:[/b] 

The Citadel of Sepulchrave, an ancient fortress of grey stone nestled high in the Wolves' Teeth mountains, as well as several outlying forts and farming villages tucked into valleys and passes.

The Iron Legion, a mongrel force of a few thousand heavy infantry famed for their discipline and loyalty.

The Library: As the Witch King has grown increasingly interested in matters obscure and hidden, he has amassed a patchwork library in his citadel of books and scrolls of philosophy, theology, history and arcana.

The Book: an ancient tome, not particularly thick, bound in crumbling leather and written in a tongue long lost to time. The Witch King carries it with him where ever he goes, usually in a harness underneath his armor. 

Dagoth: the Witch King's sword, forged by his own hands and infused with spells and secrets learned from the Book.

[/hider]