Rough draft of my CS. I think I went too ham and story-telly on the back story so I will probably revise/shorten that later.

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[b]Name:[/b]Sven “Blood-drinker” Raimeson
[b]Race:[/b]Bug Man
[b]Age[/b] 32
[b]Position:[/b] Bodyguard to second daughter to the Raimeson lineage, her husband, and their son, courtiers of Altranor. Retainer and personal friend to Marygold Raimeson, Merchant of Altranor and matrilineal husband of Lyiea Raimeson.

Lyiea Raimeson was the second daughter of a lower Lordy family of Altranor. She was an accomplished magic user and graduate of the capital college. Her husband was a wealthy and influential merchant of the capital. They had a son of three years at the time of the invasion. They all perished in the sacking of the capital.

[b]Skills and Abilities[/b] Sven is a honed blade. Formed by the hands of a group of cutthroats and mercenaries, tempered by a pit of death and mud, sharpened by a arena of martial combat, and hilted by a master who would call him naught but friend.

He has training and experience in most melee weapons. From dagger to flail, he can be considered a jack of most martial trades. If it is a tool for killing, Sven has likely held it in his hands and used it to strike. Though he dislikes using most bows due to his body not matching up with their design.

Beyond his training and experience, Sven benefits from the features of his race. Four arms, speedy recovery from wounds, a strong immune system, and the ability to metabolize most organic material.

Sven was taught by his friend to read and write. He also seems to have a knack for keeping count of things and was often used as his friend’s personal Abacus.

[b]Appearance:[/b] Sven is of average build for a bug man, standing around six feet. His arms are of lean yet dense muscle. His leathery skin a chitinous plates are a dark green intermittent with patches of brown to mimic a forest environment. 

His vertical outer mandible houses several thumb sized fangs which interlock as he closes his mouth. His inner horizontal mouth contains layers of much sharper and smaller teeth, though a few are chipped. His eyes are a dark brown split with skinny yellow flakes. There is a large scar reaching from the top of his hairless head down the back of his head to his lower neck.

He wears a burlap poncho and hood, which reach down to his knees and cover most of his torso and upper arms. Beneath the hood, he wears a bandana over his mouth, as the site of it would often scare his master’s child. Beyond that he wears little clothing, as his skin works just as well against inclement weather and he has no reproductive organs to hide.

Around his torso and beneath his poncho he wears a belt which holds a few throwing knives and a couple large daggers.

[b]Personality:[/b] Sven is a strange individual. Though his position and race force him into the position of a loner, his instinct drives him to be part of a group. He genuinely enjoys the company of others and will make the effort to fit in with those around him. Within a social structure, he is not combative and would rather stifle his own opinion and agree with another than argue about it. To him it is much better to be a yes-man than to be alone. He also is naturally inclined to follow the orders of others and has aversion to even giving suggestions towards the actions of others.

Though he instinctively seeks to be part of a group, he also has a desensitization to death. One which includes his comrades and other sentient beings. He sees death as a natural inevitability and not something which should have that much introspection about it. 

Though he is out for revenge on those who killed his long friend’s family, it isn’t out of his own decision making. Revenge will do nothing to bring them back or have any effect on their death. His mission for revenge instead comes from the conviction of the order given by Lyiea Raimeson.

[b]Backstory:[/b] Born to a port clutch, the egg-scion would be sold as a group to the local builder’s guild at a cheap price. The small port would be unable to provide the proper resources for the fleet to raise the extra mouths. It was unlikely most of the clutch would survive, given the general inexperience most have with raising Bug Men.

Three days after the ships of the merchant fleet had set sail, a group of three men bought ten eggs from the guard at the builder’s guild storehouse. Two bottles of liquor was the offer, though the guard was a capable haggler and ended up with a haul of three bottles and a favor from one of the men’s sister.

The three men were currently patrons and hired muscle at a local bar. Though they had loftier goals than that. The “smartest” of the three had come up with the idea of presenting the small potential labor force to the local “fighters guild”, as a part of the three’s joining offering.

It was a lucky thing for the soon to be hatched eggs that the sister of the youngest of the three was the wife of a butcher. It was also lucky that she was so accommodating to her younger brother. When they hatched they would have died without having close access to the meat and entrails of the butcher's shop. 

The head of the mercenary house didn’t think the bugmen would be useful. Luckily for the newborns, his second in command had been quite the traveler. The man had seen a group of thirty Bug Men put up an entire house in half a day. So the mercenary house bought the hatchlings off the three men for half a silver each. Three of which the butcher took as recompense for being nearly eaten out of house and home.

Two of the ten hatchlings died over the next two years. A low figure, considering the mercenaries’ virtual complete inexperience with raising the race. Though the second in the command of the group was quite a resourceful individual. These two years were probably the best of most of the hatchlings lives. The group was ragged and many were simple cut-throats, but they were bound by a common brotherly bond. Which brought them to raise the hatchlings with a sort of family care. Over the two years they trained the rapidly growing hatchlings in their arts of sword and dagger. Sadly it did not last.

Roughly three years after the hatchlings had come to the mercenary house, the group disbanded. They had been going through hard times ever since their founding and over night a small infight led to the burning of the guildhouse and the disbanding of the group.

The Eight remaining hatchlings, now fully grown, were taken by the former leader to a bigger and more prosperous port, then sold to the highest bidder. A Savvy businessman who found out of their martial background. The eight were then sold to a local “gladiatorum” that was little more than a pit where slaves fought beasts. Here the eight were “trained” to be fighters in the fairly large arena.

They were stripped of what few individual possessions they had and given to a man who was an expert in breaking other men. What names they had been called they forgot. They were identified as one through eight, the numbers branded into their backs.

Four years later there was only one left, seven. The Bug Man was undefeated, pitted against man and beast he had survived. One day the same savvy businessman who had bought the eight passed through the town again. He saw a Bug Man unarmed and clad in rags defeat an armored and armed knight who wanted to test his strength against the beasts of the arena. The businessman once again purchased seven. This time he brought the Bug Man to a bigger city, to fight in a true Gladiatorum.

Over the next ten years the Bug Man fought in the arena, this time he was equipped with weapons. They called him Blood-Drinker. Seven was just thirsty after fighting. Seven thought himself lucky, this place was much easier than where his brothers had died. Though he didn’t know how lucky he was on the day he met the seventeen year old boy.

A deserter they called him. From some faraway war. They were on the same “team”, spears vs swords. Which one was better. Apparently the spectators wanted to know. Seven was just doing what he always did. The best job he could. The boy said that Seven had saved him. They talked a lot. The boy talked with the other gladiators a lot too. Seven thought it felt good to talk with the boy and the other gladiators. To be a part of a group.

The group survived for ten years. The boy, now a man, was smart. Very smart. Somehow he bought his freedom. He bought all their freedom. However for a time, they still fought. The boy was smart, he made more money. He gave each of the the group enough to survive and they parted ways. Seven went with the Marygold. He didn’t know what else to do.

The pair went away from the arena town. To a place called Altranor, Marygold used his money to make more money. They called him goldhand. Goldhand caught the attention of a woman, one from a lordly family. The woman was smart too like Marygold, she could weave magic like goldhand could weave gold. Seven could tell they loved each other. Liyea called him Sven. Marygold started calling him Sven too.

The two married. They had a child. Sven protected them all. He talked with Marygold and Liyea. They treated him as part of the family. Sven worked hard he was a good bodyguard.

Sven watched as the child died, coughing up blood and mucus then laying still. He watched as Marygold died, sick and emaciated from starvation. He watched as Lyiea died, bleeding out from her wound. She was hysterical from despair and blood loss. 

First he cursed Sven, he cursed her husband’s servant, bodyguard, and friend for not being able to protect their family. Then she was silent. She told Sven he was now a Raimeson, she ordered Sven to be one. Lyiea told sven that he had to avenge their family. To kill the new king and all those responsible for the death of her husband and child.

[b]Notable Possessions:[/b]
Hand sized pouch of valuable gold coins from his master's emergency stash.

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