Crohnam

Born to a warrior Nomad clan of the Krokhan Desert, whose only values were weapon skills and a tendency for violence, no loving arm was placed around Crohnam as a child. Instead, he was tortured by his own kin — they intended to make a merciless killer of him. Receiving no compassion in his youth, he would give none in return, and give none in his adulthood. He was beaten daily, made to carry heavy weights up and down dunes, and forced to wrestle older, stronger boys. Though it was a way of life that broke many of his peers, Crohnam thrived. He believed wholeheartedly in the ways of his people. He felt his mind and body harden, and he loved the strength and power it imbued in him. By the age of twelve, Crohnam regularly fought and defeat rivals and enemies much greater in size than him. So firm was his confidence that he challenged a clan leader to a battle to the death. Believing this to be little more than the fanciful thinking of an arrogant child, the clan leader accepted. He soon found himself battling for his life against his challenger, who was far more powerful than his slight frame suggested. Crohnam was defeated, but not before he had broken his opponent’s nose and several of his fingers. Though it had been a fight to the death, Crohnam’s life was spared when the other clan leaders stepped in. He had been defeated, but the leaders saw that Crohnam was a mighty warrior who could be of great use. To kill him was deemed a terrible waste. As time passed, Crohnam’s face came to bear the scars of his duty. Each scar had a tale to tell, none more so than the one on his cheek that he received when traveling to assassinate the leader of an enemy clan. As he entered the enemy’s territory, he was ambushed by a pack of Sandlashed Orcs in a rocky ravine. The battle was long and draining, and with every passing minute Crohnam could feel the strength in his arms fade. Despite this, the bodies of dead Orcs were piling up around him, and he knew that he could win. He had just hacked down another Orc with an ax when he felt a blade pierce his cheek, followed by a ferocious burning where he had been struck. An Orc bearing a pair of blades that radiated white heat had flanked him, but the creature’s stab was shallow. It was a mistake that cost it its life. Ignoring the hideous pain, Crohnam spun around, drove an ax into his assailant’s right knee and as she collapsed drove his other ax into her neck. Soon after, the few remaining Orcs fled. Crohnam took the fiery blades as a prize. When he held them he marveled at the power that surged through his body. His felt reinvigorated. With a hole in his cheek, and many other smaller wounds across his body, Crohnam continued his mission. He sneaked into the enemy camp, drove his new blades into the chest of his quarry and slipped away into the night. Within days of his victory, his clan doubled its territory, securing the Londalah Oasis and Kontor Hill, a vital water source and high ground. The wound on Crohnam’s cheek eventually healed, but his blades’ magic meant that where the flesh re-knit the scar resembled a narrow stream of magma. It stings Crohnam to this very day, but he knows full well that pain breeds strength. Decades have since passed. Crohnam’s might has never been greater, his blades, now called Death’s Furies, have never been sharper, and his clan’s territory has never been larger. He challenged the old clan leader again, and won, and no contender has dared try to oust him from his command. To do so would be folly. None believe they can best him, and none believe they could lead the clan better. He has maintained all the brutal traditions that made him and his people strong, despite the increasing wealth and prosperity of his clan that could so easily have made it weak. Although harsh and uncompromising, Crohnam is swift to reward what he sees as true loyalty, courage, and strength, and so is loved by his warriors and people. He makes them rich, and he keeps them feared. Would-be challengers are also terrified of Crohnam’s chief advisor, the oracle-shaman Djamarsa. An individual of fell power and ambiguous words, she is always sat at his side in rituals and gatherings. What none know besides Crohnam is that she has foreseen his doom, and is the only one who can protect him from it.