I was born in the free city of Stonegate to immigrant parents. Some free city it was. We were the victims of constant prejudice and racism because of our black skin. We were soon captured by a mercenary named Steren and sold as slaves to a nearby farm off the Eastern Road where strange biological experiments took place. The only vivid memories I have from my childhood are the horrid screams of tortured, demented, mutated animals as the elderly farmers attempted to genetically engineer their animals using black magic and the scientific knowledge of alchemism. Some of the cows had legs sticking out of their sides, the sheep had two heads, and the pigs were gigantic, sometimes standing nearly ten feet tall. My family had the job of cleaning up the 'mistakes' and other janitorial chores around the slaughterhouses. After about five years of this, when I was 17, my parents decided it was time to make a change. They knew this was no life I should have to endure. So they helped me escape in the middle of the night. I fled to nearby Stonegate and tried to get somebody to help me. I explained my story to every bartender and innkeeper, to any passerby who would listen. But nobody knew me anymore. I had grown up now and was a stranger, an immigrant to be assailed with racist slurs and crude physical abuse. It became clear that the fate of my parents depended on me. I learned to fight and welcomed groups of merchants and other humans and orcs who attempted to mug me. I lost few battles and let even fewer of my assailants escape alive. Luckily I had never tasted the blood excited by a knife across the throat as I witnessed so many others, as I wiped the blood off my sword and sheathed it. I was ready to avenge the loss of my childhood and the pain and horror my parents and I suffered.

I stole a horse from Jarret's Stables and rode off, the setting sun at my back. I quickly brought justice to the farmer and all his henchman and scientists and wizards. I was anxious to free my parents, but I could not bear the all too familiar cries of the mutated beasts, so I slayed them as well. Then I went around to each shack, bashed in the door, and freed the slaves as I found them. You can imagine my distress when I had cleared the last of the farm homes and had not yet found my parents. I was noticeably upset, and a few of the other slaves came to talk to me, their hero and savior. I learned that my parents had been killed the morning that my absence was discovered, an act to deter other families from attempting to escape. I was completely devestated. My depression gradually kindled into outrage, and I became violent and unpredictable, not even I could control my killing. The only thing I could do was channel my murderous rage into a constructive occupation. I quickly became a successful bounty hunter, well-known throughout Kirganthis. The time has come that my blind hate no longer controls me. I have trained harder than ever, and am once again in complete control of my unique, thus far unstoppable, martial arts skills. The next step is to offer my assistance to the nobility of the continent and live the life of success and luxury that my parents were denied. That is true justice.