|Guild||Harlots of the Pirate Isles|
|Build||Well built, Muscular|
Khayne seems to tower over most of his Cimmerian brothers and sisters. He does not keep long hair unlike most of his kin, his head is almost always fully shaved aside from a few hair stubs that seem to crawl out of his scalp during long adventures. Long hair can only hinder your vision, and give your opponent a tool at which to use to your disadvantage. He does however keep a short cut beard that clings to his chin. His muscular form was forged in the harsh wildernesses and feuding Clan wars of Cimmeria, therefore his body is as tough as cimmerian steel and his swift movements unforgiving. Markings of his past Clan wash over his body like a wave crashing unto rock. He is often wearing little to no armor, believing that the markings that adorn his body will protect him over anything. An old scar runs from his left brow to his cheek, the blade that left it there barely missed the Cimmerian's sea blue eye.
Khayne is proud and full of honor if you can gain his trust and respect, he would follow one to the very ends of Hyperborea. This is no easy feat however, he can be as stubborn as hammering a bent nail into a fresh piece of wood, quick to anger, and hard to please. His Cimmerian roots forbid him from showing any weakness at all forcing his attitude to be somewhat judgmental on others, especially those who chose to use magic as a means of combat. He mocks these 'cloth wearers', to him if you can not wield a weapon much less strike with it, you have no use in the world.
He is hardly rich and mostly 'living off the land'. He is never against a few coin in his pocket for any task, contrarily, he believes that a mans wealth comes not from the depth of his pocket, but the strength of his arm and the fury of his blade.
Khayne remembers very little of his past. The parts that he does remember he would not be caught talking about it so openly. To ask him about his past would be like asking a stone wall the time of day. He does know and say however that at some point he was separated from his family and clan, then awoke on the beaches of Tortage his head fuzzy, his form clumsy. He wafted his way through the hot jungle in search of Civilization.
He eventually stumbled upon The Pirate City of Tortage. There in Tortage he picked up odd jobs that paid well, so when the blockade was to be lifted he could purchase a ride or perhaps sneak onto a ship back to his homeland and have something in his pocket.
After the Blockade had been lifted he was offered a ride back to Cimmeria by an odd man, but he took the offer with gratitude and thanks.
Now he spends his nights in Conall's Valley aiding the war effort there against the Vanir. His axe and blade have seen much Vanir blood, however in the back of his mind he is always searching for his family that he was severed from.