[b]Name:[/b] Hector

[b]Alias[/b]: As Hector is not a part of the Scarlet Masks (as soon as Dragonmaw is dead he’s planning on getting the hell out of the city), he sees no reason why he should use a fake name with them. In addition to that, he is one of the more easily spotted members. His distinctively foreign accent, his garb, and the tattoos on his face all serve to make him easily describable and easily sought out should Fireblade Mercs ever get their hands on another member of the Masks. But, if pressed, he will begrudgingly give the alias of ‘Rahksa’ far preferring to simply call himself by his name.

[b]Age:[/b] 44

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

Appearance:
[img=http://cdn.vanillaforums.com/baldursgate.vanillaforums.com/FileUpload/e6/1c4e16501c8525813a98a021f1852f.jpg]

His eyes are a dark gray, his hair is black, kept cut short. He stands at 5ft 6in. Starting on his lower eyelids are two red tattoos that extend to his cheek bones. They follow a straight line down, ending in tear drops. 

[b]Personality:[/b] Hector has been a mercenary most of his life. He can be crude, vulgar, violent, and merciless. In fact, those first three words have been used to describe him more than once. That being said, his fellow mercenaries have often mocked him for being ‘soft’. He won’t kill women, or children. He can often be seen giving almost all of his pay to the beggars and poor of whatever city or town they happen to be in. Several times he has let a beaten opponent live, rather than killing them. His loyalty stretches only so far. He was well known for disobeying an order if it went against what he believed was right.

He’s also hard to shake if he’s decided you need to die and he has to hunt you down. That’s why he’s in Westbell. He couldn’t give a less of a damn about the city itself, or Stardale and his son. Hector has decided Dragonmaw needs to die, and he’s followed the man across the land to see that the tyrant does die.

[b]Skills:[/b] 

-[i]Archer[/i]: Hector has spent most of his life as an archer in the Fireblade Mercenary company. He’s a good shot.

-[i]Unlimited arrows[/i]: Hector can create his own arrows, as seen in his appearance. However, other than the fact that they’re magically created, they act exactly like regular arrows.

-[i]Smoke[/i]: Hector can turn himself into smoke for a few seconds, and move it. He doesn’t particularly like to do this, because the feeling of having his entire being go from solid to smoke and then back again leaves him queasy.

-[i]Scout[/i]: Being an archer, Hector has typically avoided the frontlines. In fact, he’s never been in an actual battle between two armies without watching it from an archer’s distance and firing arrows. In return for this, he was often sent to do reconnaissance, sabotage, assassination, or whatever the captain felt needed to be done. So he’s had quite a bit of experience not only avoiding getting caught and stabbed to death by angry guards, but finding the enemy before they find him.

-[i]Dirty Fighter[/i]: Just because he’s never been on the frontlines, doesn’t mean he hasn’t been in an up close and personal fight with an enemy or enemies. He knows how to use his dagger against a variety of weapons, and uses anything and everything he can to win. Dust in the eyes, kick between the legs, throwing rotten fruit in the eyes, etc. If possible, however, he prefers to run.

[b]Bio:[/b] 

Hector was born into the Fireblade Mercenary company, the son of a camp follower. His father was unknown, and no one man came forward to claim him. Rather, those of them that were so incline communally took care of him. It’s the only life he’s ever known, the only family he’s ever had. And it would have continued to be that way until the day he died, if not for Dragonmaw. What decided his path as an archer wasn’t personal choice, rather, it became clear at the age of 5 that he could create arrows. Why waste that talent on being a knight, or wielding a musket? Thus the Captain of that time decided that Hector should be squired, or apprenticed, to one of the last archers in the company. And that’s how Hector’s training, and habits later on, began. His mentor was an old Mercenary veteran. The oldest in the company, in fact. He was everything Hector is today. Crass, crude, and violent, but Hector loved him none the less. He was more of a father to him than any of the others. 

Hector derived not only his skills from the man, but his moral code. Honor agreements, but not if they break your code. Don’t kill women and children, and spare the beaten opponent if you can. Hector took all of these lessons and more from the man. By the time the man died (in combat, as he had loudly and often proclaimed as the way he wanted to go), Hector had learned what he needed to learn, and the rest was just refining his skills. He was 14 at the time. Old enough to be considered a man and a soldier in the company. The Captain who had put Hector with his mentor was still in charge, and Hector followed him because his father figure had. He saw no reason why he shouldn’t, and after all, it was the only family he knew. He killed his first man a week later, and participated in his first battle a month after that.

The next twenty years of Hector’s life passed this way. He followed the Captain from one contract to the next, and for one noble or the other. Fighting opponents for a cause he couldn’t have cared less about. They were typically all the same. Petty feuds, land clashes, resource wars. As long as they didn’t break his code, Hector did anything and everything asked of him. Ten years ago, that all changed. The old Captain died in a battle, as did his chosen successor. Dragonmaw stepped up to claim the position, and no one opposed him. The men still whisper that their deaths weren’t natural by products of combat. That Dragonmaw and his followers killed them. When Dragonmaw took charge, everything about the company changed. 

They were a mercenary company, so honor was something they had very little of. But they still had a code, and they held by it. At least, until Dragonmaw came. The Fireblades went from an average trustable mercenary company, to a company that would change sides in a heartbeat if enough gold was offered. What little morals they had as a whole were thrown away. More and more, they became hired thugs, rather than hired soldiers. Hector was odd in his own moral codes, but even those who didn’t have his code, who only fought for the money, began to mutter about how things were better under the old captain. Before they became too problematic, Dragonmaw decided to deal with them.

He gathered all those, Hector included, who were displeased with the way he ran things on a road with cliffs on either side. He said only one thing. “I have heard of your concerns, your complaints. I have considered them. And to them, I can only say….die.” Then the arrows began to fall. It was a bloodbath. No man but Hector escaped, and that was only because he was the closest to the end of the road, turned into smoke, and bolted before anyone noticed that he was gone and not among the dead. Hector promised vengeance for the dead. He promised blood. For ten years, he has been following and hunting Dragonmaw, looking for an opportunity to end the bastard’s life. 

In Westbell, he’s found his golden opportunity to make good on his promises.

[b]Weapons:[/b] His bow, his knife. That’s about it.

[b]Other:[/b] 

-Hector likes to smoke. He has a pouch with his pipe and tobacco on him at all times. 

-Hector disdains technology in favor of the simpler things. No pistols or the like for him!

-I am one of them. Or, rather, Hector is.