Akroth
From BelegarthWiki
Realm: Thunder Guard
Unit: Petitioning for Order of the Rose
Weapons of Choice: Florentine - Clubs
Real name: Matthew Bryan
Started Fighting: Spring of 2009
BackStory
Born into a poor tribal family, Akroth was a calm and quiet boy who went largely unnoticed. He did not fit in with the other youth in his village and could most often be found out wandering the surrounding forests and ravines on his own. He took pleasure in the simple things found in nature; The lush green trees, the cheery call of birds and especially snakes. He thought them a brave creature; A beast that could defeat its prey despite having no limbs; despite it's weakness. Akroth wished only that he knew the secret behind such strength.
There was a rumor among the children of the village that Akroth could speak to the snakes and bend them to his will. Indeed, when Akroth was upset or angry with someone, it was not uncommon for that person to later suffer a snakebite or be woken from their sleep by a quiet hissing in their ear. Akroth never willed such a thing to happen, yet as he grew older such incidents grew increasingly common. By the age of twelve, Akroth was shunned by many of the local children and even some adults due to his strange ability; He was an outcast in his village. While he cared deeply about his parents, he found himself wandering more and more away from home.
One day, after a particularly long walk into the bush, Akroth returned to find his village in flames. Armed barbarians were racing about, shouting to one another and pillaging the village. Akroth was completely confused; War was not something he knew. As he wandered in a daze into the village, he was grabbed, beaten to the ground and shackled.
The next few months are a haze of memories which are best forgotten; The boy was carried away from home in a wagon caravan through the western desert, chained to other men and women from his village. The brutal scorching heat, and the bitter cold nights wore on them all and if they so much as spoke, the men would be beaten or the women raped. Many died from malnourishment, injuries, sickness and dehydration through the journey. During this time, Akroth kept his eyes shut as much as he could, trying to forget where he was.
Eventually the caravan stopped at a large city. Akroth and the surviving hostages were shackled together and led to a lumber camp. There, Akroth would remain for five years, working as a lumberjack as a slave to an unknown master. The slaves continued to be beaten even at the most minor infraction, the food was not much better than on the caravan, but Akroth endured the harsh conditions and even thrived in them.
Four years into his work at the lumber camp, one of the other slaves attempted to flee the camp. He was tied to the ground and beaten for hours on end until his body was limp and bloodied. The other slaves were made to watch; The message was clear - They were slaves for life.
Several weeks later, the branding started. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as a hot iron was pressed against the arm of each slave, marking them. Anyone seen in the surrounding villages with this mark was to be killed on sight, with a hefty reward. Most of the slaves were so broken that they submitted to the branding with little hesitation.
Akroth did not.
When his turn arrived, he drove his fist into the face of the first guard, then delivered a solid kick to the chest of the second. He had grown considerably stronger over the course of his work in the lumber camp and the two burly men recoiled from the blows. He was quickly approached by three more men, a club collided with his head and the last thing he heard was a booming crash as the world went black.
He awoke hours later, his face bloodied and bruised. As he slowly opened his eyes, he was shocked. The room was full of corpses, blood and guts strewn across the floor and a massive hole had been smashed through one wall. As he smelled the reeking guts and bloated corpses he heaved onto the floor.
He sat for several minutes before slowly standing and walking shakily from the battered building. Outside, he discovered something still more shocking. A massive snake, at least 40 feet long devouring the body of a guard, its body glistening in warm red blood. Akroth stared momentarily, then ran.
Everyone was dead. The slave master, the guards, even the other slaves. Was it his doing? Even if it wasn't, he was as good as dead if anyone discovered that the entire camp was slaughtered and he was the only survivor. He ran to the stables, found a horse and journeyed away.
He rode fast and hard for as long as he could and continued even when he felt he could ride no more. He grew dizzy with exhaustion and his mouth burned. Still he traveled on, not breaking, not knowing where he was going. At last he collapsed and was forced to sleep. His sleep was troubled and he woke soon thereafter. His horse had vanished, but he walked on, not knowing where he was going or what he would do.
Days later, he stumbled upon a camp of warriors. He joined them, realizing that there is strength in numbers and he has remained there since, building his skills and learning to defend himself.
Like the snake Akroth has weaknesses which he must overcome, but he has also come to realize that he has strengths which he must use to his advantage on the battlefield. He is still haunted by the destruction of his village and the torture of his people and he seeks to restore order to a world which he views as broken and evil.
