Deep beneath the catacombs of Harand Kor lays the endless tunnels of prison cells and vaults where the only light is that from the accursed guards of the prison. A former mining town, the deep tunnels and endless passages carved from stone on the back of slaves made an excellent prison for the King's enemies when the minerals dried up. With every lash and every brand, the prisoners are tormented as their wills sap away. With every pained scream and desperate plead, the cries of the damned echo throughout the valley with infamy and horror. And at the very top of this pyramid of torture and cruelty is the Grave Warden.

For generations, Heccarim's family has served as the overseer of Harand Kor and the King's Jailer. When criminals and traitors run, they away not from the enforcers of the law, but from the possibility of ending up in the catacomb prisons where even the most defiant of Drakken warlords have had their will shattered and minds broken, turned into pathetic, jibbering, tortured creatures.

Wearing the Mask of the Warden, Heccarim's reputation has been built up by his forefathers and their forefathers as the very sight of it strikes terror and fear into most Drakken. Mothers often tell their children to behave less the Warden drags them away in chains. Travelers warn each other not to travel alone on old, abandoned paths less they are the next victim of the Warden. Many dozens of stories circulate about the legend of the Warden, some of them are even true. But for Heccarim, they are just another tool in his arsenal of terror. Its not far fetched to say that the position of Grave Warden of Harand Kor has become its own entitiy, detached from the role of prison keeper; the fact he is rarely seen only adding to his grim mystic.

Heccarim himself only chuckles to the myths and legends of how the Warden takes delight in agony and suffering, how its actually a sadistic ghost whose only goal is to torment people to madness and suicide so it can claim their souls or how it can steal your life force through its chain, using it as fuel for its lantern censer. The Drakken himself possesses a dark humor but little in the way of true cruelty, only a cruel apathy to those beneath him and those he oversees. To him, its his life's duty to be the Grave Warden as was his forefathers'. Like the rest of his bloodline, he has served the king most faithfully, dragging more than one uppity Drakken with ambitions beyond their post into the shadowy grave cells of Harand Kor. Now, he seeks a Gem bride to ensure that the prison will always have a warden and the king; a jailer.

A constant fog surrounds Heccarim, mostly around his feet. This smokey fog comes from his censer-lantern that he has learned how to light with his chain hook in a most menacing swing and is based on his own magical abilities. Like his predecessors, he has never taken off his mask and his lantern has never gone unlit.
Adult Content Preference: Sure

"I love it when they run. They think they can escape me."
"Its only fair they get a head start; they won't have a head left once I catch them."
"My lantern is the light at the end of the tunnel."
"Your blades can only cut flesh, but my fear can shatter minds."
"I have open cells and fresh graves; which one would you like to fill?"
"Soldiers say the battlefield is hell. Clearly they haven't been to Harand Kor."