Le bruit de pas lourds et rapides résonna à travers la clairière. À travers le pinceau et les branches, la silhouette d'un homme massif et impossible à construire s'approchait, alors qu'il chantait joyeusement une étrange chanson du nord-folk, presque au sommet de ses poumons. Sa démarche révéla son comportement, et son comportement était aussi joyeux que possible. Pourtant, quelque chose n'allait pas. Et que quelque chose était une traînée de sang, le trickling provenant près d'un objet suspendu à la ceinture du barbare. Alors qu'il s'approchait, un sourire large et honnête devint visible sur le visage carré du nordiste, et deux vitrés sur les yeux scintillent sous les ombres jetées par la forêt.
Ils n'étaient cependant pas les siens, mais appartenaient plutôt à la tête coupée accrochée à sa hanche. Les yeux du barbare étaient en fait fermés, car il était profondément immergé dans son air étranger. Il a rapidement retrouvé son sang-froid, après avoir presque trébuché sur un caillou assez important, une fois de plus regardé le monde autour de lui. Notant rapidement le gnome qu'il était censé rencontrer, il a accéléré son rythme, car il n'est jamais acceptable de laisser quelqu'un que vous avez frappé un pacte avec l'attente, bien que cela ait eu le mauvais effet secondaire de faire sortir la langue de la tête de sa bouche et embrouiller librement.
Une fois qu'il s'était trouvé près du gnome, il s'arrêta, et le salua respectueusement, alors qu'il plaçait sa hache massive en bas, et s'appuya légèrement sur elle.
"Heil Mighty Wizard. C'est moi, l'AXEMAN, KOL'RAKUL, et j'ai l'intention de mettre mon arme sur ta voiture comme demandé. Vive ton roi et ta ville."
Notant qu'en raison de sa posture, le sang avait commencé à s'abattre sur la jambe, il démêlait les cheveux du trophée de sa ceinture et le laissait tomber dans la saleté. Il roulait dans l'herbe quelques fois, se rapprochant du gnome, avant de s'arrêter, boiteux comme toujours, avec sa langue qui sort toujours d'une bouche remplie de dents noircies et pourries.
"Ne soyez pas pris en retraite, Wise Gnome, pour celui-ci était d'un BANDIT, si difficile à tester le METTLE DE son groupe contre les voyageurs sans surveillance. Je l'ai fait revenir, pour être identifié par les autorités. Tu peux dire des reproches à cette trophe. Oui, l'AXEMAN fait un don de bonne volonté, HO-HO! »
Ah, la journée était déjà un bon début, et cela a élevé les esprits de Kol'Rakul. Il se réchauffa toujours le cœur de voir des membres avides de la cour prendre des mesures contre les forces qui menaçaient leurs sujets, et ce gnome ne semblait pas faire exception. Quoi qu'il arrive, il était déterminé à y faire face.
In the days of Dungeons,
Evil feared not the lance and sword,
Nor did it fear the Beasts of fire.
It feared...
THE AXEMAN

Character Name: Kol'Rakul, The Axeman
Race: Tall Dwarf
Gender: (axe)Man
Age: Early to Mid Twenties
Appearance: Coming soon!
Personality and Motivations: The Axeman is a stoic and driven individual, fueled by his desire for glorious combat, and the need to explore the world and taste all the sweetness freedom has to offer. Though quite eloquent for a barbarian, he is most certainly not above a good horn of mead with fine company, and his normally serious exterior can give way to bombastic bursts of behavior, if surrounded by people he enjoys being around with. Furthermore, he despises uncalled acts of evil and will go out of his way to help those in need. Though he may not take it upon himself to single-handedly dismantle a corrupt kingdom, he will most likely decapitate a gang of said king's enforcers.
It would only be natural for a drifter such as himself to find his way to Aleritos, and impossible to decline such a blatant call for aid. After all, there are plenty of monsters to slay, and a whole city to defend. Even if the reward is not to his liking, working towards improving the lives of this city's people will be more than worth it. Not to mention all of the chopped monsters.
Class and Alignment: Chaotic Good Barbarian
History:
Raised by a fierce and highly custom-oriented tribe in the far northern mountains, Kol'Rakul spent his early years as any happy boy his age, namely sparring with his brothers, and hunting for the village alongside its' warriors. Yet, as he grew, something gnawed at him. He yearned for more than the death of game and rival tribal warriors. The world was vast, unexplored and the tribe, even though homely, seemed more and more oppressive to him, and its' constant rivalry with other inhabitants of the north, unnecessary. When he was finally ten springs old, the young boy fled his village in secret, hiding in a barrel belonging to a passing trading caravan.
Ever since that day, Kol'Rakul has lived under the sky. As a thieving child at first, as a lone wanderer later. He has risked death atop the Windswept Tower of the west, helped defend a town against Vashian ragers in the east, witnessed the Siege of Kargamen and the March of a Thousand Brave, and heard the streams rolling through the Forgotten Forest's countless acres. Yet the most curious of his experiences was on a serene night on the swamps near Iridien.
Having camped for the night and readied himself for slumber, otherworldly chanting echoed across the marshland's rotten trees. Following the sound, he reached what seemed to be a hovel built against a small cave's opening, with firelight shining through its' planks and windows. Reluctantly entering, spear in hand, the barbarian was surprised to find the hovel's interiors resembling those of an ancient stone temple. Atop a short altar there rested an axe so perfect to Kol'Rakul's eyes, that he couldn't be helped but be drawn towards it. Yet, around the altar sat three old men, deep in a trance, chanting in unison. It was not until the furthermost sleepily opened his eyes and gazed at the intruder that the old men became aware of his presence. Calmly, they informed the barbarian on how they were expecting him, for years now, to answer their call and take up the Nameless Axe.
From that day on, and with such a perfect weapon, the wanderer developed his skill in combat even further, and even gained some reputation on the world's less civilized corners. It is said, that when the Axeman nears, noble hearts burn a bit brighter.
Equipment:
Clothes: A pair of sturdy leather pants and boots, a belt with a large buckle and a simple cloth shirt with its' sleeves torn off. Not much in the way of armor, but as Kol'Rakul always says while pointing at his chest, "I've got my armor right here."
Essentials: Traveler's gear, especially made to be secured on his belt. A water skin and a mead horn on his left side, a satchel full of basic supplies on the back, and a weather-resistant journal on his right.
The Nameless Axe: A masterwork of a weapon with hints of latent magical power, it never needs sharpening or care, and seems to be made by some unknown metal. It was said that once it spills enough blood, it will "awaken", and the way the last required blow will take place shall give it a name, define it, and by extent, its' wielder.
Skills and Spells:
Physical Powerhouse:
The Axeman is an excellent warrior, being close to the pinnacle of his one's bodily capabilities. Being among the mightiest Tall Dwarves one will come across, he is capable of performing amazing feats of strength and could even prove a match for naturally stronger races. That's not to say he's slow, though. In fact, his speed, both in mind and body, can prove to be a most lethal trait, allowing him to land numerous strikes with his normally heavy weapon in a short time and even dodge projectiles. Lastly, having spent a lifetime fighting and roaming the world, he has gained amazing durability, both against the elements of the great outdoors, and against more direct harm.
Brains and Brawn:
Unlike most barbarians, Kol'Rakul possesses a brain underneath his thick skull. Furthermore, while not academically smart, he is streetwise, and his numerous life experiences have resulted an impressive variety of general knowledge, as well as surprising wisdom. Moreover, his fighting style, although empirical, has been honed for almost a lifetime, and is tailored exactly to the barbarian's needs.
Miscellaneous: