Personality/Description:Hashar has a strong personality, he seeks a worthy fights for Gorum. He is one to respect peoples strengths ,but still values battle strength the highest. Though he puts on a tough demeanor ,he will go over to defend those who are trying to control weaker ones. Hashar is 6.5ft and a big build, he is covered in old whipping scars and has a greatsword tatooed on his chest with a design spliting it in half with one side looking like a orc and the other traditional style. With the slaver brand burned on the back of his neck. He wears a blacken steeled scale mail with his greatsword on his back with its handle wrapped up and the blade as cleaned up as good as he could. He also wears a whetstone around his neck. He believes his sword and the whetstone are his holy symbols.
History:Hashar doesn't remember his life before he was sold into slavery, but like most of them were from paying off gambling debts. Hashar had a tough time being a kid in the slave camps, he had to loose his childhood for a tougher persona that could never yeild or he would be killed. Though it took meaning years of beatings and not backing down to establish his reputation. Through his fights he learned he could use his fangs and always felt the power from his shackles and the iron they were crafted by. He was a one of the few slaves that didn't mind the chains as much but still didn't like what they represented. As he got older they put him into tougher labor, he was forced into helping salvage a old dwarven fortress or outpost that was covered in a avalache. They spent months diggin through the rocks and one day he hit something in the rock that was metal, the object spoke to him wondering what it was he started to dig it out. The slavers pulled him away for the night cause of a large storm was about to hit and the tunnels needed to be properly reinforced. The storm hit the camp hard, many of the guards took shelter in there tents or with the female slaves. Hashar felt it a sign that this storm hit, and he felt the metal object calling him. So he snuck out easily avoiding the low number of guards out. As he got back into the mine he felt the calling stronger and stronger. He started digging it out finding a handle to something. As he got there far the slavers must of heard the pick cause a couple were behind him. Fearing to loose his hand for disobeying the curfew. As they started moving in on him, he gripped the handle and started to pull. He pulled with all his might and struggled as slavers moved in closer, he felt that feeling stronger then before when he grasp the blade. He shouted that he would do anything to pull this out and it became easy. He pulled out the old beaten up blade, and suddenly started muttering some words of a prayer he didn't know but felt familiar. His blade started to glow and he charged through the trio. As he battled through them, one of guards signaled the alarm. As Hashar began to flee he was knocked off one of the muddy cliff, as he slided down the side he hit his head. He dreamed of a vision of the Lord in Iron himself and saw how powerful he was and how he was repected. He awoke clutching the sword and dangling of the edge with his greatsword stuck in the cliffside. He pulled himself up and then looked at the old blade and could see Gorum within it. He didn't know where to go, he started wandering around looking for a purpose. As he traveled across the land, he felt natural with the sword and after he easily defeated a bandit Hashar felt a surge of purpose and loved the battle. As he moved on he slowly gained more items and armor. He came across a cleric of Gorum, who tried to give him some teachings but Hashar gave his a black eye and a big bite mark. Hashar got a big head with his fighting skill and always tests a opponents strength and to find out if they are if they are worthy to face his sword. His cockyness got him nearly killed by a unknown warrior with a strange smaller curved blade(aka a Katana) as he passed out through blood loss, he tried to curse the figure as he fell but could see the man moving in to finish him off. But he woke up in a buidling something like a barracks with that figure hovering over him.
"You up son? He fought good but you might need some tips on your form" the man asks him. Hashar responds "Why didn't you kill me?" "Even though you need help with your form, your still a skilled warrior and I could use a man or rather orc such as yourself as one of my guards in the town. So what do you say?" The half-orc grimaces towards the man, "I will only til I am able to defeat you old man! My name is Hashar what is yours" The man smiles and puts out his hand and says " Capt.<DM Insert name here>, and welcome to Sandpoint." The half-orc shakes his hand and from then on becomes a guard of Sandpoint.
Dm Note:I didn't say the area the slavers were in cause Hashar doesn't know since he really didn't see any maps until after he was far away from the slaver camp. So its up to you and I'd rather keep it a mystery to myself.