About Graxzos Khar-BulkhetGraxzos Khar-Bulkhet
TRAIT
CLASS
FEAT
Appearance:
Graxzos is a medium-high dwarf, stoutly built, and generally keeps his battered leather armor on unless he's in a tavern or other place he knows he can relax. He has shiny chestnut hair and beard, excepting one striking streak that runs from his widow's peak back all the way through his hair in a broad stripe. This streak is dead white, but seems to almost absorb light, making it appear gray. Under the robes he wears in Osirion, one can find a large network of ropy scars lacing his shoulders, in a pattern that looks, at a glance, like spread, feathery wings.
Grax is the consummate professional when it comes to tomb-raiding, and his clothes and gear are sewn with a multiplicity of buckles, straps, pockets, pouches, pull-chains, and catches--many home-made--for ease of use. He wears a pair of tinted goggles on his head for bright sun and gunsmithing, and wears a pistol on one hip and his waraxe on the other. The longaxe (which he's built a telescoping shaft for) and his hand-crafted quickdraw shield ride on his pack, in easy reach. Personality:
Graxzos is a true worshiper of Cayden Cailean: loud, boisterous, gruff, and frequently rude. He's surprisingly outgoing and charismatic for a dwarf--it's one of the traits that's helped him get along so well in the antiquities and smuggling businesses. At the end of the day, Grax believes that the world is full of wicked, cruel, and stupid people: the main thing he's concerned with is figuring out which type he's dealing with. The ale he drinks can give him a bit of a bipolar personality; normally he's good-natured, if crude, enough; but given a drink and a reason for aggressiveness, and his anger can quickly turn him into a devotee of Gorum. Given too much of a push, and too much to drink, and he starts to rage (quietly and internally) against himself and the world, sometimes even going so far as to name the Rough Beast as the only god worth a damn, the only one that makes sense. The next morning he feels the same as ever (despite the hangover), but it's always a terrifying period of time for him.
Despite these dark urges, Grax desperately wants the approval of others, and his loyalty, once won, is unshakeable (which doesn't mean he believes his companions perfect; quite the contrary). He's a tactical thinker and an aggressive explorer, and he's willing to share with anyone who put in their chunk of the work. Backstory:
Graxzos Khar-Bulkhet grew up in the foothills of the Brazen Peaks, third of five children born to parents who toiled day and night as gem-polishers for the Hall of the Forger, the great temple to Torag not far from Tar Kuata. Graxzos's childhood was pleasant enough, but he longed--unusually for a dwarf--to see the world beyond the fasting. By the time he was nearing 40, it was becoming a problem: courtship, for example, was difficult for Grax, as so few of his fellow dwarves shared his dreams of the world beyond. Travelers were not uncommon there, particularly adventurous ones; and, once Grax was convinced that his younger brother and sister would be able to make their own way without his help, he seized the first chance he could to leave the fasting. Hitching a ride with an ambitious Garundi Pathfinder named Kito, Grax set out for the open road and adventure.
Grax hero-worshiped Kito, and learned from him how to search ancient dungeons, how to survive in the heat and in the cities of men, and--perhaps most important of all--how to use the new type of weapon that Kito had brought with him from Alkenstar: the pistol. Grax was enchanted by the efficacy of the firearm, and holds it in high regard (he's known to sneer at other weapons, though he likes his dwarven axes). Over several years, Kito built a small following of other young adventurers to mentor: Kjell, a hot-blooded young swordsman from Avistan; Barezata, an acolyte of Abadar intent on seeing the world before taking her final vows; and Soki, a dark-skinned, tattooed Bekyar from the Mwangi Expanse, who had the most incredible control over the spirits of the natural world. The five of them traveled happily together for a year and half (and Graxzos started to become fascinated by Soki), when the unthinkable happened. The team was exploring the tomb of a well known alchemist from the ancient days of Nex, when they sprang a number of traps simultaneously. Kjell, Grax, and Kito became separated from the others; when Grax and Kito fell into a pit that began to fill, slowly but surely, with a terrible acid, Kjell fled, abandoning them to their fate. Kito was trying to work out a plan when a voice whispered in Grax's ear, offering hope--salvation--a way out. Panicked, not thinking to wonder what the voice was, Grax begged for salvation. An immense roar filled the young dwarf's ears as pain lanced through him and he heard his mentor cry out. There was a cruel laugh inside his head, and the dwarf felt himself rising upwards on wings made of dark, smokeless fire. The wings bore him out of the pit, but when he looked back, there was nothing but a pile of ash where his mentor had stood, already dissolving in the pit's acid. Glowing runes now covered the pit's sides, and he felt a terrible presence barrel past him, out of the tomb, as he landed. Free, he seemed to hear something whisper, snarl, cry: free. In the end, all but Kito made it out of the tomb alive, though Kjell was shame-faced and Grax was scarred. He still bears the marks of his encounter with whatever the Beast of the Pit (as he thinks of it) was: twisted, knotty scars along his shoulder blades that resemble spread, feathery wings, and a shock of dead white hair among his normally lustrous chestnut mane. The four youngsters continued on, trying to patch together a living, but to no avail. Grax, in his pain and grief, was searching for someone to listen to him, to share his pain, to be his companion; when he found that Soki preferred Kjell, he turned to drink. He drank more and more each night, abandoning any thought but forgetting what he had seen and, inadvertently, done. And then, late one night when Kjell, too, had gotten drunk, the blackmail began. Small at first--Grax demanded taht Kjell tell him where he and Soki would be going that day, or what he and Soki talked about when alone together. If he didn't comply, the dwarf warned Kjell, the young warrior's secret would be spilled to his lover. Then Grax began to demand more: for Kjell to bring him trinkets, from Soki or from other men and women who caught the dwarf's eye, or for the young man to relate the most intimate details of his and Soki's lives. Grax became, over a matter of less than a year, an ale-soaked tyrant. Of course, it couldn't last. Soki eventually learned where her "misplaced" objects had been disappearing too and, in a rage--for Kjell confessed all--she and Barezata turned against Graxzos, demanding that he leave the group forever. In a drunken rage, the dwarf took his leave. For the past 15 years, Graxzos has been wandering. The shock of being left friendless and alone helped him regain his sobriety, though he still likes to indulge semi-regularly. In the years since, a strange mix of shame and pride have grown in Graxzos's breast. Since leaving the group, he feels, he's become stronger, more independent, able to tackle any number of challenges--he's been making a good living obtaining and smuggling antiquities. But, deep down, there's a destructive rage with which he hates himself for what he did to Soki, and particularly to Kjell. Since Prince Khemet instituted the lottery system for Wati's tombs, Graxzos has been making his way back to Osirion, hoping to find another group (or some old friends--he's worked with a number of organizations over the years, on all sorts of projects) and strike it rich raiding the ancient pharaohs' tombs. |
