Here is Hranos, an urban barbarian from Issen. His crunch is mostly competed but I want to tweak his back-story a little bit.
For his connection to the campaign:
Hranos stretched himself backward as far as he was able to before the two guardsmen roughly shoved him forward. He stumbled one step in the direction of the table before righting himself. The guardsmen grabbed him once again and pulled him to his original standing place. The tall young man knew better than to resist. Even if his wrists were not shackled, he was unarmed and outnumbered here. Besides, there was always a chance that the men behind the table would let him go free. After all, he had done nothing wrong. All that Hranos needed was the opportunity to tell them that.
“What is your name?” Asked the man who stood behind the table in the dimly lit chamber.
“Hranos.”
“And you were one of the lads that Ingrio put together as a company of men at arms?” This man, Vizirov was his name, asked again. A scribe sat at a smaller table beside Vizirov and held a quill expectantly as he looked at Hranos.
“Yes.” Hranos answered. This seemed pointless to him. Why is he asking me the same questions that they asked when they arrested me? He asked himself. If nothing else, the thought helped to distract Hranos from the cold of his bare feet on the damp stone floor. At least I can stand up straight here. Not like in that cell with all the others pressing in on each other.
“And Ingrio told you that you served Brevoy as its soldiers? And he said that the bandits that you captured outside the forest were minions of Duma the Sly? And he ordered you, as his personal retinue, to hang the prisoners you took? Left them, there on the trees, didn’t you?” Vizirov asked in a tone of expectant boredom.
“Yes, just like I told you when you asked me all this before. Mr. Ingrio marched us into the forest where the bandit camp was. The bandits ambushed us on the way but we beat them. Most of them ran off but a couple of the wounded could not get away. And some of them surrendered too. But Mr. Ingrio had us hang them. He said it was a warning to Duma’s men. All I did was watch them while the others tied ropes into nooses. I can’t even tie a noose.”
Hranos added the last bit not only because it was true but in an effort to reduce his culpability. A real fear of the going to the gallows himself had manifested itself in his mind. He had seen the condemned men kicking their life away as they hanged from the branches in Gronzi Forest and he dreaded the same fate. Some of the men lasted for a terribly long time. Some even scored bloody rents into the bark of the trees with their wildly lashing feet.
“And what about the man you killed in the cell yesterday? He was a fellow in your company was he not?” Vizirov looked to the elderly man sitting at the center of the large table when he finished this inquiry. The gray-haired man wore a rough fur greatcloak against the chill of the room. This outer garment contrasted sharply with the fine linen of his shirt and the gold medallion that hung down from his neck. The man rubbed his chin and looked at Hranos expectantly.
“He was trying to kill me. He tried to steal my food and we fought. I just did him first. That’s justified anywhere. “Hranos asserted this confident that the truth of it would be unmistakable.
With a gesture that indicated he had heard enough the gray-beard stood. “Fine. We are not concerned with what goes on in the cells. Take him back there. Perhaps we can find some use for him later. If nothing else, he can swing a pick in the mines.”
The two guards seized Hranos’s arms and hurried him out of the room and back down the stairs to the lower reaches of the dungeon where he would not be able to stretch out anymore.