At World's End
Exiled Warlord, Scion of Arkhosia
+5 Fang of Bahamut (E)
+4 Skeletal Stormscale Armor (E)
+5 Fleece of Renewal (E)
Scale of Bahamut (E)
Standing at well over six feet tall, Krayus easily towers over the rest of his party and, indeed, most of the people he meets. A strong facial structure leads him to look fierce even at the best of times; his scales, the deep red of blood, does not help him in first impressions. Only one thing about him seems to escape his fierce appearance—his soft, shining silver eyes that always seem to glint with mirth and compassion in the presence of friends. In battle, it is simply another terrifying glint of steel as the hulking Dragonborn charges his chosen adversary.
Krayus was born under amazing circumstances, into the Bloodscale clan; a clan true to its namesake, that upheld the virtues of honor and strength. His egg had a flawless design of wings along the shell. For years, he was groomed to be the new Clan Lord, all the others believing it to be a sign of prosperity and change. One in particular took a vested interest in his education of ancient Arkhosia; the High Priest, Arjhan. He passed on many scrolls and tomes of the war between the Dragonborn Empire of Arkhosia, and the infernal Tiefling empire of Tael Burath, as shortly after the Empire of Arkhosia peaked.
But then, betrayal!
Krayus was hauled out of bed in the middle of the night, bewildered as accusations were leveled against him, accusations of attempts to consort with devils. Arjhan had deceived him! He had given Krayus his scrolls and tomes under the guise of knowledge, but he claimed to any who would listen that Krayus had stolen the ancient writings and had been attempting to use them to summon demons, devils, and other foul creatures. He was given a single day to prepare his belongings, and then he was cast out into the desert, Arjhan’s mocking smirk following him far after his gaze had left.
He decided that if the Bloodscale would not take him, he would seek out the hospitality of the other clans. What he saw shattered his perceptions. He was grudgingly given shelter, and rarely allowed to stay more than a few days. Despairing, Krayus struck out for new lands, the lands of the common races. There he found some shelter, barely able to scrape together enough to eat—until some time after his exile, he entered a tavern to shield himself from the biting cold of the northern lands, and he heard talk of bandits; but more importantly, talk of reward. Stepping up to the clearly intimidated barkeep, he asked a simple question.
“You would pay me to fight?”
That was all it took. As his skills increased, so did the contents of his pockets. At first he took on only solo jobs, working and killing alone. After a time, he felt comfortable joining larger and larger groups of fellow adventurers, gaining more experience with group battles and tactics with each battle, each skirmish.
He was passing through the small town of Winterhaven when Destiny took hold.