Appearance

Sarigar is a pretty normal example of a human, though quite athletically built. His hair is black, though usually caked with mud with sprigs pointing out in various directions. Generally, he looks like he just slept under some tree, which he probably did. His eyes are dark brown, almost black with an ever-present feral demeanor. He’s always watching and sniffing at the area, as if expecting something to happen.

Sarigar is very gruff, and unkempt. During the warmer times of the year, he tends to have what appears to be anywhere from 3 days to a week’s worth of beard growth, even if he just shaved. During the colder times, he has a full beard, roughly an inch long and very scruffy. His clothes are usually smudged with mud, grass, tree bark and other various wild markings. His baths generally consist of jumping into a body of water, swimming around for several minutes, then getting out. Although he generally has an odor to him, it’s not unpleasant for those that like less civilized areas, however to those who prefer perfumes and other refined scents, he is quite disagreeable to be around.

He carries a rusty handaxe (which he seems awfully proud of), a sling wrapped loosely about his left wrist, a short spear tied loosely to his back and a small tree branch (club) tucked into his belt. His backpack is very well made, though a very close inspection would need to be made to know that seeing as it’s covered in filth and pelts and other such objects. He has successfully stuffed nearly every item he’s ever come across in that backpack and thus has just about any mundane item someone might want in there. It’s quite a sight to see him looking for something in the bag, for the things he pulls out are larger than what the bag should be capable of holding.

He is horribly uncomfortable when he is “forced” to wear more civilized clothing. He constantly tugs and pulls and readjusts it regardless of how tailored the items may be. “These don’t fit right. You sure I can’t wear MY stuff?” He rarely takes off his armor/clothing, and even tends to bathe in it. “if I need cleanin, so does my clothes.” The few times he does remove his clothing, you would see various scars across his arms, legs, chest, back, and even a pretty nasty one on his neck. These scars, to those with Knowledge: Nature would recognize them as animal claws or bites. He’s obviously been in a fair number of scraps in his life.

Sarigar is very nimble and flexible for a human. He tends to stay crouched, as if ready to pounce. He’s not opposed to running on all fours from time to time either. He sniffs at the air regularly, much like a wolf or dog.

Personality

Sarigar is quite uncouth and ill mannered. He says what’s on his mind and to heck with what others think. He’s not rude, just brutally honest. In the wild, there are no false pretenses like there are in the cities and that’s the way he likes it. He’s slow to trust, but once he does, he protects with an animal fervor that can be quite frightening.

He rarely smiles, but when he does, it’s almost scary to behold. His smile has a sinister look to it, as if he knows something more than you do. When someone calls him an animal or beast, he’ll grin as if he enjoys being called such thing. To him, it’s a mark of honor.

Sarigar is definitely at home in the wild. He’s more open and free spirited when he can feel dirt between his toes and smell the pine and animal musk in the air. He rarely stays near people once in the wild, preferring to run free. Though if he’s with people he trusts, he rarely goes far, just in case he has to “save” them.

Around people that are very clean, especially those that use colognes and perfumes, he will often sniff at them, turn up a disgusted nose, then throw dirt of leaves at them. He’s not doing this to be rude, though most would think otherwise, but instead, such smells truly irritate his nose. Obviously this kind of behavior has gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion, and he’s definitely not the person to talk to nobles and dignitaries

Sarigar can’t read, nor does he have any desire to learn. In fact, he almost seems to go out of his way not to learn. Reading is a human thing to do. He considers himself a member of his pack. Besides, he’s done without reading for the entire life he knows, why should he start now?

Much like a wolf or dog, Sarigar tends to be nocturnal, sleeping as he can throughout the day. He prefers to hunt, even if he’s not doing so for food. He doesn’t hunt for sport, there’s no point in that. He hunts to see just how close he can get to his prey before they skitter off. His ultimate goal is to stalk right up to a rabbit and pet it at least once before it runs. He’s almost done this with a deer once, but just before he touched it, it bolted.

Sarigar is not an idiot, though most in the civilized world would see him as such. He’s just very naïve about “man’s world”. If for whatever reason he needs to buy something, he’ll often throw something on the table from his back pack and say something to the effect of “I’ll give you this, you give me that”. As far as he’s concerned, it’s a completely fair deal. If money does have to chance hands, he’ll usually just throw an odd assortment of coins on the table and call the deal done. Needless to say, when he walks off with something that he feels he’s purchaced fairly, he’s gotten in trouble when the merchant realizes it wasn’t enough coin (or elated that he fleeced Sarigar).

History

“You wanna know me? Why? What’s it to ya?”

“Fine, whatever, here it is.”

“Don’t know my mom.”

“Don’t know my dad.”

“Don’t really care. The pack is my family. From as early as I remember, I’ve lived in the woods, running with the pack. They know how it is. Hunt, kill, eat, drink. Mmmmm ya, now that’s the stuff.”

“Keep your darn cities, I don’t need em. They stink. Gimme an open sky, dirt under my feet, and a deer in my sights and I’m happy. Sure, ya got them shiny metal poky things, but when I bite ya, it’s gonna hurt just the same. An them clods in the shiny clothes, hahahahah, they can hardly move.”

“More? Psshh, ya gotta be kidding me? What more do ya want?”

“Blah blah blah, Like I said, far as I remember, I’ve always lived with the pack. We hunt the big woods North of here, I think you call em Clubberwood or some such and sometimes move south into the hilly area with the red dirt.” Sarigar’s eyes roll up to the side as if remembering something. A sinister grin slips across his face. “Heh, them big plodding Ogres sometimes came near our hunting area. They didn’t last long. They hit hard…” he says rubbing his chest, “but, dang, they’re fun to kill.”

“So, I hunted those Clubber Woods…What? Culverwoods? Whatever, it’s a forest, I use it for food, who cares what the name is? Anyway, I hunted there with the pack for most of my life. Sometimes we’d spot some men with those shiny clothes or glowing hands. Or hunters, those were fun prey.” Another smirk comes across his face. “They’d come looking for us and instead we’d hunt them. But, mostly, we did our own thing.”

“Arrg, you want more? Why am I here? Cripes, can’t you just sod off? Sigh, fine, if ya have to know. Some of them shiny clothes guys came storming into our hunting grounds not long ago. They came looking for us I guess as they tracked right to us. Couple of the pack, including me, stayed behind to let the others get away. Guess the shiny clothes guys clubbed me from behind or something, cause right after the pack sprung to attack, my world went dark and I woke up in this smelly city, in a cage. Some really rotten smelling guy with no fangs let me out saying I was ‘Free to go’. I didn’t waste time, I darted out of that cage, grabbed what things of mine I saw and took off. I ran around, confused by the sights and smells of this stinky city, and smashed into you.”

“Hey, is that an apple?” He says as he reaches into your bag and grabs the apple, and takes a bite before you can say anything. “Not bad.” Apple juice runs down his chin leaving what looks like a river through the dirt there. “Well,” crunch “Dat’s about it. Which way out of this place?” He runs off in the direction you point, tossing the apple core back over his shoulder, bouncing off your thigh.

Recently, Sarigar’s pack was attacked and slaughtered by a small group of Dark Elves. Exactly why the Dark Elves did this is unknown to Sarigar, and he doesn’t exactly care either. He intends to find and kill the “Dark Skins Pack” and kill them all.

After tracking the Dark Elves for several weeks, he finally caught up to them in the Silver Seagull Inn. Surprisingly, it was at the same time that the Windhorn Hamleteers were making a strategic withdrawl from the catacombs deeper inside the Inn. During the ensuing fight, Sarigar had every intention of killing every one of the elves until the Hamleteers stopped him, explaining that they needed the elves for “information”. Reluctantly, he aquiessed to the Alpha of the Hamleteers, Feng and led them to a place of relative safety.

In this camp, the Hamleteers made something of a pact with the Dark Elves and left them to fend for themselves. However, Sarigar made sure to get a good strong wiff of the scent of the leader and promised to find her later.

With his thirst for vengeance temporarily collared, he joined the Hamleteers on another sojourn into the Silver Seagull Inn and the catacombs below. Terrifying magic and bloody skirmishes followed, but apparently, the Hamleteers succeeded at what they set out to do, though Sarigar has no real grasp on what that was. It wasn’t for food, play or revenge, so it makes little sense to him. They did recover a pack mate, Renik, that he understands, though he’s very confused as to why such a little and seemingly weak pack mate seems to order the Alpha, Feng around. It’s a strange pack, this is, that’s he’s been adopted into.

He has since returned with the Hamleteers to Plateau City, a completely foul smelling and disgustingly civilized place, but at least he’s found some solace and a touch of nature in what the inhabitants call Gladiator Park. Some of the Hamleteers have been trying to teach Sarigar of magic and their effects, if for not other reason, than to ease his nerves around such happenings. Also, he has noticed that his connection with Black Paws has deepened and his body has begun to change, growing claws and fangs and feeling the pain his brother feels.

Black Paws
Black Paws is Sarigar’s Timber wolf brother. His coat is an almost shiny grayish white, but his paws are all black. He’s completely loyal to Sarigar, having grown up with each other in the same pack. Although a completely wild timber wolf, Black Paws will not harm anyone unless one of three things happens: someone attacks him first, he sees someone attack Sarigar, or he’s told by Sarigar to attack someone.

Sarigar and Black Paws are rarely separate from each other. Even in towns, Sarigar will walk confidently with Black Paws by his side. If the guards hassle him, well, depends on how much hassle, he’ll either ignore them, or simply walk to the edge of town with no struggle. If the guards try to forcibly remove him, well…let’s just say, there’s a couple towns looking for some new guards.