Rex

Male Haavic 19 Years of Age6'-2" | 200 lbs Strong BuildBaldLeathery SkinBruiserHe was scared then, he was scared now.

Life’s tough when you’re growing up on your own. Doubly so living in the stink. Rex was accustomed to it by now, though he was never settled with it. Everything seemed to come on too fast, too hard, too pressing, too close. Need and danger enveloped him like the vapours of the stink. Every day held new challenges, every night held new marauders in the dark.

He was scared then, he was scared now.

It was a bad choice to take the coin, so readily offered. It was no hand but an asp that extended this loan to him. But he had been desperate, figured he’d be able to return the coin quickly, which he mostly did, but the debt never could be filled up. Always late they told him, always more penalty they hissed, always venom in the shadows to keep him in line.

He was scared then, he was scared now.

The docks are not much of a place for a youngster, but you did what you had to do. It helped that Rex was built like the chimneys of the tanneries, beefy, tall, solid. He swindled and fibbed his way into the docks and into jobs each day, hauling, unloading, moving, repairing. Rex knew he’d have to look the part to keep up the ruse. He shaved his head, walked with swagger, learned to cast a mean eye. The mean eye had to be backed up with a mean fist.

He was scared then, he was scared now.

The men of the docks were as predatory as the men in the shadows. But unlike the shadows, they were solid. Rex used his bodily gifts to fight, learning to use fist, elbows, knees, head, and whatever was at hand. He could not make them respect him, but he could make them indifferent towards him, make them think at least twice before starting something. Gruff, rough, and quick to temper, he got on. The work was hard, and the pay never what he thought’d it be, but it was steady. You do what you need to do, and things were stable. It was work, and it was working.

He was scared then, he was scared now.

When he came across Rowf one particularly hazy evening, Rex didn’t know things would change for him. Rowf spoke to him like few others did, spoke directly to him, spoke of things everyone pretended wasn’t there. There was this band of others, like him, that gathered, a family of downtrodden, with warriors, resourceful kids, and more. Rex wouldn’t believe, but he wouldn’t let it pass up. Anything for help so cheaply given would be help in his situation. He visited flatjacks’, and soon was living there too. Once he saw what this gang could do, he knew Rowf was not lying.

He was scared then, he was scared now.

But with his new gaggle of friends, he for once felt a fighting chance.