Scarred and weathered beyond belief. That's about how most would describe Kargath. A network of crisscrossing scars line his face and arms, evidence of hundreds of bar fights and street brawls. The dwarf' stares at the world through one bloodshot gray eye. The other eye socket is empty, the scarring around the socket a testimony to the fate of the eye. A bulbous nose, broken many times, protrudes from Kargath's face, and his grin is missing teeth. Still, the dwarf appears friendly enough...right?
Kargath is a brash and in your face kind of dwarf. He says what he wants, when he wants, and anyone who wishes to take offense can take it with his boot up their arse. Known for his propensity to start a fight at the drop of a hat, Kargath is also known for fighting dirty. They say you shouldn't bring fists to a knife fight, but no one ever said that to Kargath more than once. The dwarf learned fighting in back alleys for quick cash, and there are no rules back there. He has been known to say more than once, "Ye can keep yer stinkin' honor and yer flatulent nobility, I'll keep yer cash." Still, for those he considers friends, Kargath will go to great lengths, and he is amiable enough for the most part. Just don't call his mother an orc unless you are mounted on a fast horse...with a half a league head start.
Born to a wandering clan of the Shattered Range, Kargath was hailed as good luck for the clan from birth, due largely to a shock of bright red hair. He grew up in the caravans, traveling from village to town, town to city, always on the move with a caravan of metalsmiths and merchants. His "lucky" hair made him the pride fo the elders, and the bane of all the other dwarflings. From an early age, he learned that being different made some others eant to hate you, so hate you they did. As a dwarven lad, fighting was normal, even expected. It was the way dwarves sorted out clan pecking order and ascendency. However, for Kargath it was more than normal, it was a way of life. The dwarfven boy fought daily, and eventually he learned if you didn't act as if the fighting bothered you, if you embraced it and took joy in it, it became a thing of beauty.
When he came of age, he took his traveling inheritance and left the caravan, never to return. His arms were strong from working the metalsmiths' bellows and from wielding the forge hammer. His knuckles were craggy and swollen with hardened bone from near constant use against other dwarven skulls. His first visit to a human town ended him in jail - no real surprise to anyone, except maybe Kargath. He simply didn't know when the scarper from teh city watch and was left standing in a bar atop a pile of local ruffians, laughing to the high hills.
He learned when to run though, and eventually he learned that when his money ran out, there were always those who would make a wager on a fighting match - in the arena or out, it didn't matter. Kargath relished these fights and won far more than he lost. His cash stockpile grew and then was frittered away on food and ale. He didn't really care. Money was there to be spent, after all, and he could always make more.
He lost his eye to an orc, one who preferred to play with his food before he ate it. He took Kargath's eye in a move that the dwarf would have described as beautiful, if it had been anyone other than an orc that had done it - and if it had been done to anyone other than Kargath, of course. He broke both the orc's legs for that, and stomped on some ribs for good measure before rushing off to practice the move. It became one of the dwarf's favorite moves. So much so, that many of his recent opponents had laid down "rules" against eye gouging...as if they had the right to put rules on fighting!
Then, as he was holding an iced compress to his nose to stop the thing from bleeding after a particularly long match with an ogre wrestler - a former slave from Cheliax - in a small town down by way of the Mwangi Expanse, he overheard a group of men, dwarves, and elves talking about their haul from the last dungeon they raided. Apparently, if you were on a "job" or a "quest" you could make good money beating things up and taking their loot. Kargath grew excited and joined the crew, buying ales and asking them to "sign me up!"
The Pathfinders weren't all Kargath's cup of tea, but he really did enjoy the exploration, the new sights, and -of course - thumping the creatures that tried to stop him and his companions from achieving their goals. Now, there was another expedition being formed, and the dwarf wanted in on it!