Mason Kri

Orc-blooded human fighter


Favored Class : Fighter


Str 20 . Dex 13 . Con 14 . Int 9 . Wis 10 . Cha 7

HP: 34

AC: 17 , Touch: 11 , Flat-Footed: 15 , CMB: 8 , CMD: 19


Fortitude: 5 . Reflex: 2 . Will: 1


Masterwork Breastplate


Spiked Chain , Spiked Gauntlet , Heavy Crossbow , Masterwork Dagger


Exotic WP (Spiked Chain) , Power Attack , Cleave , Weapon Focus (Spiked Chain) , Toughness


Mason Kri Is a huge man of 6 feet 4 inches tall and weighs 225 pounds of muscle, anger and curiosity. This massive man has grey ashen colored skin has short shorn hair and black eyes and slightly enlarged tusks. He has many scars over his back and a few on his face. An odd birthmark is found on his left forearm that looks like a word but is written in a languadge that he nor anyone else can read. His head and face are covered by a form-fitting skull-like helm with the skull shape painted burgandy. He wares a fine breastplate over a black undershirt and leather pants and rugged hobnailed boots with a fine dagger in the right. He wears a simple black belt and two pouches. A pair of leather pauldrons the left of wich is crested with what looks like a human jawbone and his hands are gauntleted the right glove having curved claw-like spikes protruding from the knuckles.

Mason was born 22 years ago in a small camp some miles north of Kith’takharos Village to a half-orc whore. His father was one Marton Kri who left the camp without knowing of the child he would leave behind. When he was 10 Mason’s mother – Vera – was slain by one of the drunken brigands, that calls the camp home, and left Mason without a parent.

But the roughians and brigands, while they lost a favored whore gained a slave. Mason grew up hard and grew up strong through shear force of will along with plenty of brute force as well he came to adulthood knowing nothing but how to fight for every scrap of food or personal items he could get.

A little over a year ago while bringing firewood to the camp the mark on his forearm warmed and tingle considerably. looking up from the bundle in his arms he saw entering the camp near him a scouting party that had left days before. In their midst were two men one looked like a diplomate of some sort judging by his clothing and the other just a simple lowly older civilian. But the civilian while beaten and battered carried himseld with pride. This man with his hands bound behind him looked over and directly into Masons eyes just as Masons locked onto the old mans, Masons eyes drifting to the mark on the old mans forearm that matched his own birthmark.

Later that night Mason went in search of the old prisoner. He found that the diplomat had been taken out of the camp by Lenar Hoyt. But he learned that the two prisoners were from a small logging village in the north and the noble was the mayor from this village, Cutfrum, and would be ransomed and bring more money for Hoyt and the older man was a caravan gaurd and a former employee of Huygen’s, to be punished for having the audasity of leaving the Huygen’s band. But the olderman with the compelling and identical mark had escaped and flead into the swamp.

Intruiged Mason stole away from the camp in the night and tracked Hoyt and his small band with hopes of finding clues to the mans identity and if they knew where to fins him. He found Hoyts camp the next day and caught them before they moved on, assuring Hoyt that he had no interest in where he was taking the mayor, and all Mason found out was that the old man was an old friend and that Mason should not concern himself with things above him. Mason awoke later to find himself alone in the swamp and made his way back home.

But Mason did not give up so easily and vowed to find this mystery man before the swamp claimed him a few weeks later he had dug up enough info from the elders of the small village and learned that there was a man who left the village some 20 years back and this angered Hoyt. Mason learned the location of Cutfrum and decided to look there for this man and found he never returned along with the caravan – also that the man he might be looking for’s name was Marton Kri and his sons name was Markos and bade him good luck.

Months later he made his way back into the heart of the swamp, much deeper and more dangerous than he had previously experienced. He found traces of several camps and hold-out spots long since abandoned but found one curiously close to an old ruins. . . a ruined stone bridge that was not long abandoned if at all. Not far off at the rivers edge he saw his quary after what must have been a year in searching and many miles traveled and by the tingling of the mark on his arm, he found what he hoped was his father. He moved to confront the man when the old man suddenly, but not before turning back to lock eyes with the young warrior then burst into the river calling out Hoyt’s name and shooting a longbow up onto a collumn in the middle of the river.

Then before Mason could react to help the Old haggard version of himself the very undergrowth seemed to come alive and bound his legs and arms and the more he tried to free himself the more the vines tightened. He was able to break free but by then it was to late the encounter he hoped to see was missed and there was no sign of the old man, but there was Hoyt now at the endge of the bank with 5 men standing around him. Upon asking Hoyt about the old man Hoyt simply had his thugs attack and subdue Mason and after a struggle Hoyt used magic to put Mason to sleep.

The next thing Mason recalls is awakening to a biting cold in his forearm from his mark and feeling very flush and dizzy from the blood rushing to his head because he is hanging upside down from a large column in the middle of a murky river. He hears the what sounds like combat and almost imediatly sees one of Hoyt’s men jumping from something above his feet and splashing into the water.

Mason Kri

Kith'takaros North Andugus