Kharn Banesblight
Description
Standing a slither over 6 feet with a bone white head of hair, his eyes are slightly sullen and near black. The only thing sharper than his stare is his weapons and hatred for the undead. Lightening fast reactions and a dress sense to match, Kharn is never underdressed for a situation.
...but the splash of red, was that always there?
History
Kharn was associated with the thieves guild at an early age as a street runner. He ventured to many harbours along the coast in his youth, taking messages and then packages to and from guild drop points as requests. Kharn started reading into and listening to tales of fabled hunters of the damned, pirate hunters, monster slayers and ghost killers to pass the time on the long boat trips around the coast. During one such trip via the Widden Expanse and through the Northern Seas something happened to Kharn that forever changed his outlook on the world... He was relaxing in the crows nest of the Merchants Guile, a big brigantine which he had used on a number of occasions to get around.
The captain had a soft spot for Kharn as he had saved the captains son in a bar brawl which could have ended the lads life a lot sooner than he would have liked. Anyway, back to the tale at hand - sailing at night was always a gorgeous sight but from nowhere a dense mist appeared to envelope the ship from the very water and Kharn felt a cold sliver down his spine. A soul piercing scream rang out directly below him, quickly followed by more screams which almost sounded inhuman in origin. Kharn laid flat on the floor of the crows nest and peered down into the dense mist, only able to catch glimpses of the deck below him and that was when he saw... three ethereal spectres floating over the deck, he saw the captain attempt to slash one away with his sword but the wraith continued its march towards the captain and as the wraith laid its hand on the captains face, it appeared to drain the very soul from his body. Kharn had no idea what he could do as he watch people he had known for years fight in vain to save their comrades and themselves as they were drain of their lives... three at a time.
The deck fell silent and the mist began to dissipate and he watched as two of the wraiths walked off the very edge of the ship and appears to float away on the night breeze, the third was still on the ship as if admiring its handiwork when it suddenly stopped still and raised it's head to look straight up... Kharn looked the creature clear into its and and felt as though he was staring into the pits of the beings soul, the utter hatred and disgust for the living boiling just below the surface was palpable. The wraith seemed to enjoy this moment of dread and stepped backwards from the ship, bowing and tipping its hat as it did so in a way only seen in theatre shows - overly dramatic to get the point across and then it was gone into the night.
It was not until noon the next day that Kharn could muster the courage to descend the rigging and get to the helm. Luckily for him he was come upon by another merchant vessel, they rescued Kharn and saved what they could of the supplied before setting the ship ablaze and sending it to the bottom of the ocean. During the return trip Kharn heard many tales of the wraiths and was told that it was very rare to see them, typically they would only take a handful of crew and even then just the careless ones. Regardless of what or why the did what they did, Kharn knew he wanted revenge on those horrific corruptions of life and he started looking for a way he could start making a difference.
He remembered reading about a secretive sect of hunters that hunted the dead, all he had to go on was some old rumours that such hunters came from the Frayn Islands... a massive network of islands that spanned many many nautical miles and that finding them would be difficult. So he set out for Port Argin, if they were anywhere then one of the main ports in the region would be a good place to ask questions.
For months he asked high and low about these Wraith Hunters, Dead Hunters and other such names he had heard tell of but nothing led him anywhere. One evening he was setting up in the back of a tavern when a hooded figure sat down across from him, the figure was wrapped in form fitting leather armour with slashes in the palms of the gloves... a solitary eye peered out from the hood and, in a unusually feminine voice to come from anyone in a port tavern, said “Evenin' pal, I hear you are looking for Blood Hunters”. This was when Kharn met Valkia, the Blood Hunter and from then on his training and mission for vengeance really started to take shape and step up a gear.