Name: Kurgan
Race: Gran’zul
Standing at almost 7 feet tall and with a body heavily bound with thick muscle, Kurgan is a typical example of a Gran’zul warrior. His deep green skin is covered with dozens of faded scars with a set of three particularly large scars running diagonally down from his right shoulder.
His black hair is pulled back into a ponytail than runs down to the base of his neck. Two curved horns lurch out of his forehead and point towards the sky the thick bone yellowing slightly. He has two prominent steel tusks rising out of his lips which are sharpened to fine points and are matted with faint rust.
He wears a set of studded leather armour dyed black and trimmed with a white fur. The outfit consists of a loincloth, two vambraces, and two thick boots. A leather strap has been looped around his hips with a sheath attached to it and draped across his chest in a diagonal cross.
Hung onto his back by the strap is a heavy oval shield large enough to cover his entire arm. Triangular blades have been built into the rim and are all kept razor sharp. Kept in the sheath on his belt is a pitch black battleaxe, its blade chipped in places and its handle is wrapped in old and worn leather barely kept held in place. Wrapped around the back of his hand and his knuckles are a set of thick metal plates. On them many indents and blood spatters can be seen permanently engraved onto the hard metal.
(I decided to go with a little bit of a back-story/prequel to the current day)
Smoke rose high into the air as the pyre in front of Kurgan burned. The wind changed and ash blew onto his face caking the green giant with a thick layer of the grey dust. The rest of his tribe stood in a semi-circle around the base of the burning pile as they looked on at the human kneeling in front of it. The man looked up at Kurgan with red eyes, his face bruised and bloodied as thick streams of tears and blood ran down his face, mixing into a puddle at his feet.
Kurgan strode forward and lifted the man by his hair and brought him to eye level before growling and spitting into the human’s face.
“This is the result of your damned raid,” Kurgan growled. “You expected our village to be undefended, for there to be nobody but women and children here to kill as you pleased. Just so you could go back home and brag about the incredible battles you held against the barbaric and terrifying Gran’zul.” The giant chuckled, “You and you’re party didn’t expect us to be here because you came here ready for a slaughter. It is a shame you failed to realise it was not our funeral, but yours.”
With a flick of his wrist Kurgan threw the bound man into the fire, screaming. The tribe watched as the bodies burned, and the dying man writhed in pain. He had tried to run, abandoning his own people and the price he paid was death.
Kurgan turned from the fire as the scream died out and strode into his tent, grabbed his weapons and then affixed them to his person. He then picked up a small pack and slung it over his shoulder as he walked back out; four other battle ready Gran’zul filing in behind him as they all spared one last glance to the dying fire. The group then bounded of down the path leaving the village and heading off to bigger and better prizes.