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Khadir is a tall,broad-shouldered half-orc with a chipped tusk. His thick hair has been allowed to grow into dreadlocks behind him that swing in all directions when he gets agitated or excited. A scar on Khadir's face causes his right eyelid to be almost always half closed, giving him what he considers a more ferocious appearance. Every scar on the half-orc is worn with pride, and he'll tell anyone who buys him a drink how he got each and every one. Khadir carries two weapons, a greatsword slung across his back and a large flail wrapped around his shoulder. His possessions consist of little else, other than the armor and clothes he wears, but he gives it no thought. Since he was resurrected, he considers his life in the hands of the gods and gives little to no thought but that they will provide for him.

Khadir is a bit boisterous, and a very social person. He gets along with most people, and most people tend to get along with him. Khadir recognizes the safety and success that comes with working in a group, and is very aware of his own weaknesses. That being said, he does everything he can to make up for them with his own strengths.

Khadir enjoys a good joke, even when it's played on him and isn't mean-spirited, and will often try to come up with riddles (they aren't that clever) to puzzle his companions. Khadir is extremely positive and confident in all that he does, under the impression that if he's doing it, it must be the right thing to do. Khadir also respects strong leadership, recognizing that he himself lacks those qualities and that when left to his own devices, he tends to get himself into trouble.

Khadir's greatest dislike is bullying and abuse. As a child, he was picked on because of his size and his gentle nature, and while he thinks that such experiences made him stronger, he immediately moves to stop such abuses when he witnesses them.

When Khadir was resurrected, he began to reconsider some actions in his life. He had always lived hand to mouth since he became an adult and set out on his own, spending his money just as fast as he earned it. Perhaps there was something more to this life than moving from one fight to the next. Clearly not a scholar, death has become a subject of interest to Khadir, though his studies will likely be in how it effects those he applies it to.

First, death. Khadir seeks to unravel the secrets of death, and to see if there are others like him who will come back to life after dying. These studies will be undertaken seriously by finding out how other undead things are alive and seeing if they can come back after being killed again.

Second, adventure. Khadir grew up on stories of adventurers traveling to far off places and doing great deeds of heroism, and hopes to become at least a local hero in his own right.

Third, companions. Considering that he has already undertaken a great journey on his own (dying) and found it surprisingly boring, Khadir hopes that having companions with him will make this next adventure more exciting.

Khadir Al-Xefon is named for the mountain whose shadow he was born under, Xefon-Ra, according to the traditions of his clan. Khadir grew up a member of a clan of Garundi that was constantly looking for land of their own. Eventually, the clan grew small enough that the families separated, some joining other Garundi clans, and some stopping permanently in small cities or villages. Khadir's parents chose the latter, taking up farming near an oasis outside of Sothis. Khadir, however, always felt wanderlust and when he reached adulthood, he bid farewell to his parents and set off on his own. An opportunity to travel presented itself in the form of a job guarding a caravan to Wati, for the upcoming lottery. Khadir joined up and all went well until he reached Wati. In the streets near a tavern, argument broke out between him and a man who was beating his dog. Khair suggested that the man oughtn't beat the dog, and the man responded that Khadir ought to mind his own business. Khadir proposed a resolution with his fist, the man responded with a knife, and the next thing Khadir knew he was waking up just as his body was about to be prepared for burial.

The priests screamed as they saw Khadir sit up, Khadir screamed, there was more screaming, along with several tests to make sure the large half-orc wasn't some form of malicious undead. After leaving, Khadir felt he had a new lease on life, a new purpose, if only he could find out what it was. It wasn't frightening the man who had killed him, because while satisfying, that had been temporary. No, his purpose now was to unravel the secrets of death, which answers must be available in the necropolis, where plenty of other undead things were sure to roam! Confident in his newfound purpose, Khadir Al-Xefon, the hero of death marched off to enter the lottery and join the expedition.

From a mechanics standpoint, Khadir is meant to be the tank, first in to combat, last out. As time progresses, I'd build him to be an anti-magic unit, whose first focus is to take out enemy casters (and distract everyone else), but I am also open to suggestions as far as this goes.

Garrick Orelson stepped through the door of his small apartment, listening eagerly for the pitter-patter of feet.

“Daddy, daddy, you’re home!” The joyous cries rang through the small home like a bell, brightening Garrick’s day. A small towheaded boy of about 5 years came running from up to greet him.

“I am home, and you’re not even in bed yet! We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we Finn?” Garrick reached down and picked the child up, twirling him around.

The little boy giggled and shrieked as he swung through the air. “But daddy,” Finn protested, “The sun is up so I can be too!” He was right, and it almost broke Garrick’s heart to know how right his son was. That was one of the challenges with coming home a retired soldier. You spent your youth learning how to fight and not much else, no trades to learn, no skills to hone other than how to kill.

“And how are my boys doing?”

The sound of his wife’s voice broke through Garrick’s thoughts, and he turned to smile at the love of his life. “Couldn’t be better, love. Couldn’t be better.” Still holding Finn, Garrick moved across the room to his wife and put his arms around her shoulder, happy that he had finally made it home after a long night of work.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP “Open up in there!” came the muffled shout.

“Gah”! Garrick yelled, as he stood up suddenly from the bar he’d been resting on. Confusion and panic filled him for a moment as he looked around for his wife and son, the effects of last night’s drinks still weighing on his mind.

THUMPTHUMPTHUMP “This is not a request, but an order! Open up!”

Garrick stumbled past chairs, tables, and Ol’ Digger to get to the door, cursing under his breath as his mind raced, mixing memories with fear over what might be on the other side of the door.

“It’s about time. Any longer, and I’d be getting suspicious of your willingness to cooperate.” Garrick looked down as the captain in charge of this morning’s inspection walked in, followed by four other soldiers.

“I only want to do my duty, sir,” Garrick mumbled. They’re hidden, they’re safe, they’re hidden, they’re safe. Carefully, he watched the guards move through the small tavern, upending a few tables and chairs, tapping on walls, tossing engravings onto the ground, and occasionally taking a drink from behind the counter.

“Is this all there is?” The captain tossed the question out like an amateur fisherman.

“All there is of what, sir? It’s just a tavern.” Garrick stared just above the captain’s right shoulder, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes. They are safe they aresafetheyaresafetheyare-

“A woman and her son were last seen within the vicinity of this tavern,” the captain testily explained. “We believe they are connected to the rebel forces that are at work in this city, and we believe they have information that can help us promote safety and stability in at least this neighborhood.” The captain halted his investigation to pick up a bottle of expensive looking wine. ”4608…good year,” he said, smiling at Garrick. The captain held the bottle up against the light and squints at it. “And it hasn’t even been touched yet. Must be difficult to keep something so special safe for so long.” The captain was now turning the bottle over in his hands, testing its weight.

”I’m told it is, sir,” Garrick replied, swaying a little bit as he struggled with his hangover. You won’t find them, you won’t, youwon’tyouwon’tyouwon’tyou-

”You realize that’s what we’re trying to do with our fair city, don’t you?” The captain had grabbed a firmer hold of the bottle around its neck and was walking towards Garrick. ”And we can’t do that on our own. We need our good citizens to help us. Of course, if we should happen to find them uncooperative while we go about our duties, well…we don’t mind bringing in an extra or two.”

The words hung in the air, their meaning clear. Garrick looked straight for a moment before looking down. ”There is a cellar. Steps behind the bar.” The words came out just loud enough for the captain to hear.

Turning, the captain gestured to his men to continue their search, a triumphant look on his face. The trapdoor behind the bar was found and opened, and the soldiers quickly lit torches and descended into the darkness.

It was silent in the tavern, except for the drunken snores of Ol’ Digger. The captain leaned back against the bar, looking around the tavern with the air of a cheerful patron. His eyes stopped and settled on the sword and bow that decorated the mantle behind the counter. With the air of an experienced connoisseur, the captain pulled the dirty sword off its rack. ”A soldier, were you? Part of the regulars?”

”Yes sir, under Corporal Albright, sir, for 5 years. Served as a scout, did too good a job, and couldn’t get promoted.” Garrick could hear the soldiers below turning over crates and tossing goods and boxes on the ground. ”Decided a civilian life would hold more opportunities for me than being a soldier.”

”Indeed,” the captain responded dryly, glancing around at the dingy tavern once more. ”Well, we could always use-“ One by one, the soldiers were returning from the cellar. After all had come back up, one stepped forward and gave a smart salute.

”No one down there, sir. It looks as though there had been some good whiskey, but it seems as though this gentleman drank it all.” That was a lie, a damn lie, and Garrick gritted his teeth. They wanted him to say something, put up a fight, anything so they could at least take someone back with them.

The captain’s face darkened at the news. ”You’re absolutely sure that no one is down there?”

”Absolutely sir! Only way to be more sure would be to burn the place down.”

The captain turned back to Garrick, his voice dripping with venom. ”It would seem our quarry is not here, and for that we apologize, good sir.” Signaling to his company, the captain picked up the bottle of wine he’d been holding and walked towards the door. ”Oh, and Sergeant? Perhaps while I decide where we’re going next, you help explain to this man how we view rebels and those that assist them? Just in case he isn’t aware yet.”

”As you say, sir!” The sergeant gave a wicked grin as the door closed, and cracked his knuckles. ”Now then, sir, please don’t feel as though you need to remain standing during our little discussion here.”

One punch turned into two, into three. Before long, the ground was Garrick’s friend, and the punches became kicks as jeers fell on his ears. He knew the darkness would come, but in it he would find light.
Soon the pain fell away, and Garrick woke up in his bed, feeling fresh and rejuvenated. He could hear bustling in the kitchen, Sari’s humming as she prepared dinner. His breakfast, really, in preparation for another long night.

As he stepped out of his room, Garrick’s nose was awash with the smell of fresh bread. Sari could make many things, but bread was her specialty, nice round loaves with a thick crust that was perfect for dipping in stew.

”Mum, mum, can I have an end piece?”

”It’s my turn, I want the end piece!”

Garrick stepped up to his children, intervening so Sari didn’t have to worry about dinner. ”Well lads, with a loaf like this one, there’s more than one end piece. No reason why we can’t all have one.”
Finn straightened up and put a thumb to his chest as he looked at his little brother.

”I should get first pick, I’m the oldest.”
Finn’s younger brother stuck out his tongue just as Sari turned around.

”Jameson, you put that back in your mouth if you don’t want it pinched,” she warned. ”Just because you turn 11 tomorrow doesn’t mean you can be rude to your brother.” Winking at his children, Garrick pulled out a knife and began cutting the bread, motioning for them to be quiet. Carefully he gave each of them an end piece from different sides of the loaf, and they went off, happy to wait for the rest of dinner.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Garrick was gently reminded that the bread would go stale sooner now, and he brushed off Sari’s concerns. Finn and Jameson told him over dinner about the various things they had spotted in the streets that day. ”Something big’s gonna happen soon, Dad, and we’re gonna be a part of it. I just know it. Heard someone say some nob is gonna come here soon.” Garrick had waved off their excitement, and sent them to sleep not long after, but his gut churned. He’d been hearing something like that in the tavern, and something felt off. More than once he found himself staring out the window at Kintargo, wondering if everything would work out.

”Garrick, are you alright?” Sari had asked him that from the kitchen, but came over to check on him. Once again he moved to embrace her, but instead if returning the embrace, Sari grabbed his arm and began shaking him.

”Garrick, are you alright? Garrick? Garrick?”

A splutter of coughing woke Garrick up from his position on the tavern floor. Ol’ Digger was up, surprisingly.

”Sorry I didn’t see them coming sooner,” the old drunk said, slumping back down in his seat. ”Mighta been able to warn you off or something.”

”They’d’ve looked even harder then.” Garrick groaned as he stood up, feeling the aches and pains that the soldiers had left him. Sore, but alive. That mattered.

They were safe.

They were on Sari’s sister’s farm, out in the country. Garrick had spoken to Sari that night and shared his feelings. She hadn’t liked it, but she’d trusted him, and the following night, he’d arranged passage for his family to leave Kintargo. She’d asked him why he was staying, why he couldn’t or wouldn’t come with them.

That had been one week before Thrune.

”There’s work to do,” he muttered under his breath, walking back towards the bar. Heading down into the cellar, Garrick began taking things off a particular set of shelves, where the good whiskey had been, and then began removing the shelves themselves. After the way was clear, he reached back and knocked carefully. Two quick rap, one slow, two more quick. A lock unlatched, and a frightened face peered out at him.

”They’re still looking for you,” Garrick told the frightened woman, ”But you and your son can come out as long a you stay in the cellar. I’ve word that someone will come to take you out of the city tonight.”

The woman offered her thanks, and Garrick told her they could help themselves to any food in the cellar before heading back upstairs. The soldiers wouldn’t return, at least not tonight, which would give Garrick time to get to work. He wondered why it had taken him so long to do anything while the city burned around him. He’d told his wife he had to stay, as a son of Kintargo, to try and save it. He hadn’t done anything since his family had left but that had changed last night when the fugitives in his basement had knocked on his door.

”There is a time to work, and it is now,” Garrick said to himself as he looked up at the sword and bow. His armor was around somewhere, if he could find it. Might even still fit, if he was lucky. As he took his equipment off the wall and began examining it, Garrick looked across the tavern at the slowly sobering Digger. ”Digger, you think you can get a message off to some folks for me?”[/b
]
The old man sat up a little straighter. [b]”Few places a drunk can’t get, if the pay is right.”

Garrick pulled a bottle out from under the counter. ”Consider this yours tonight, after the place is cleared.”

Ol’ Digger looked hungrily at the bottle, then warily up at Garrick. ”What exactly do you have in mind?”

Garrick winced as he smiled. He had a lot in mind.

Garrick Orelson was born in Kintargo, the son of a washerwoman and one of several men that could have passed through the slums of the city. Despite his circumstances, Garrick was instilled with a sense of pride in himself and his city, and has many happy memories from his childhood. At the age of 18, he joined the local regulars and served as a scout for a small platoon of soldiers that traveled through Cheliax, hunting down bandits and performing other duties as needed. Every coin that Garrick earned was sent straight home to his mother, as any dutiful son would.
After 5 years, Garrick left the service honorably and joined up with a group of adventurers heading in the same general direction he was. He offered his services as a scout and skill with weapons in exchange for a portion of the treasure they sought and the safety in numbers that would come from travelling with them. A few months later, and with more gold than he had ever seen in one place, Garrick arrived back in Kintargo.
Upon arrival, Garrick found not his mother, but his mother’s best friend’s daughter, Sari, tending the home. She explained that his mother had fallen ill within the last few months, but had been saving as much money as possible to make sure he would have a home to return to. Sari had been asked to watch over the home until Garrick returned, as a final request.
Despite the grief he felt, Sari helped him through it, telling him stories of her interactions with his mother while he had been away, and how proud she’d been of him. The pair quickly fell in love and were married not long after. The birth of a son followed 9 months later, followed by another three more years later.
Garrick did his best to spend his money carefully and frugally. Much of it was secreted away and used sparingly, only for emergencies. Not having a trade, and not wanting to return to the life of a soldier, Garrick began working nights in a local tavern. Garrick made a little extra money helping some smugglers move some products in and out of the city, and became an expert at disguising the cellar , eventually walling off a section to make a small, hidden storeroom. As the owner almost never went down there, preferring to send Garrick instead, it was perfect.
After about 14 years, the rumours Garrick was hearing around the tavern began looking more and more bleak. Something was about to happen, so Garrick arranged with one of the smugglers he trusted to have his family transported out to his sister-in-law’s farm in the countryside while he stayed behind.
A week later, Thrune had arrived, and the city had descended into chaos. Despite all this, Garrick did nothing to help the rebels, afraid of the repercussions he could bring upon himself and his community. Now, Garrick has decided that it is his time to fight, and he seeks to join the rebellion. Garrick wishes to fight to make Kintargo safe for his family once more, to bring Kintargo back to the glory he remembers from his youth, and to bring hope back to the downtrodden.
Skilled with weapons and fighting, Garrick is also competent at moving about quickly and quietly. While he will lie to prevent harm to himself and his allies, among those he trusts Garrick is true and guileless, and seeks to find other heroes who he can help save Kintargo.

Race: Human
Class: Slayer (Cleaner)

(pre level 4 increase, with lvl 4 increase, raise con to 14)
Str: 16
Dex: 14
Con: 13
Int: 12
Wis: 10
Cha: 14

Feats: More combat focused, maybe power attack and toughness and build form there. My thought is if I can hold my own in combat, casters can focus more on buffing and less on healing.

Skills: Skills would be focused on stealth, some bluff or intimidate, a dash of performance for singing (he ran a tavern, he can sing a little), a little knowledge(local) and some acrobatics to improve mobility during combat. Best skills would be stealth and disguise to help suport the group's sneakiness.

Tactics: Garrick was a soldier and understands that there must be strategy when fighting, especially when taking on a bigger, better equipped opponent. Large attention gathering confrontations are to be avoided. Stealth, distraction and smoke and mirrors are better in this case.

Why Garrick fights: To make his home safe for his children, because he sees it as his duty, to more actively help others, and to bring back the Kintargo of his childhood.