Farrus Fulgrim

Characteristics
Around (5’8ft), 140lbs, late 30s, unkempt appearance, fair Caucasian skin tone, jet black hair pulled into a loose topknot, rough stubble and deep crimson eyes. Donned in worn-in leather armor with noticeable repairs of various areas, it appears to be heavily lived in. Belts and cloth sashes strapped across his torso adorned with equipment that have been accumulated over his travels; leather pouches, bottles and vials containing an assortment of ingredients and concoctions, a small notebook and lantern strapped to the hip. Covered in thick hooded cloak with fur trim to protect against the elements and a large pack slung over one shoulder with adventuring gear and other miscellaneous items. Wielding a worn longbow and quiver and two short swords sheathed on his back.

History
Born to the name Asger Von Hagen Fulgrim at the age of 18 and just out of training, Asger was called to arms. The city of Dermot east of Asger's home city was enduring an unending civil war and being a neighbouring city, they were called to aid and purge the dissident force.

After 12 years of the campaign, the conflict ceased, in the grassy Planes of Moore  near Dermot' . All that was left of the land was a scorched, blood soaked mass grave, bodies of ally and foe alike sprawled across the once eden-like fields. There was no cheer of victory on that day, only the despicable realisation of needless death, killing and sacrificing for a cause that they had forgotten the purpose of. Only two dozen allied soldiers survived the final battle and as they turned and began to head to camp, a volley of arrow stuck them down, seemingly from nowhere. During this folly Asger was struck in the chest with an arrow, collapsing on the damp crimson ground, blood filled his lungs and consciousness faded. 

Sometime later, in what felt like an instant Asger regained consciousness however he did not recognise where he was. Effigies made of bone and talismans hung from a thatch roof, the smell of rotten meat and incense permeated the air, old crooked furniture filled the interior, stacks of tomes, parchment and mason jars of strange herbs and pickled creatures covered every surface.

Asger tried to move, a sharp pain struck his chest from the open wound and then he also realised that he had been strapped to a table. With no means of escape in his weakened condition dread filled his heart. Hours passed that felt like days and then a shrouded figure entered and hobbled towards the fireplace. By the light of the embers Asger saw a silhouette of a horrid cooked nose and hunched back its form to large a disproportionate to be human, he couldn’t make out too many detailed because the figure was covered by a black wrapping. Picking up a white hot iron from the fire it loomed close to Asger, whispering into his ear in a dusty feminine voice, “You may call me Beezor Rotthorn, and you are my new PUPPET,” and as she finished her words she cackled and plunged the branding iron onto the open wound cauterising it and branding him as her property like cattle.

Asger told Rotthorn his name was Farrus, to avoid any ties to lead to his family and for the next several years, Farrus was little more than a lab rat. Enduring whatever horrid curse Rotthorn could inflict on his flesh and forcing him to consume deadly concoctions that would alter his physical form.

Through her alchemical testing Rotthorn inadvertently created a form of the Hunters Bane formula, (a poisonous alchemical concoction that alters a person’s life’s blood, forever binding them to the darkness). Upon consuming it Farrus’ blood felt like it was boiling his deep brown eyes turned to a blood red crimson and his veins pulsated in a black hue as it coursed through is body and then consciousness faded.

The familiar feeling of a void clasped at Farrus’s consciousness however this time he felt different, stronger, rather than it taking him, he was able to resist its pull. He had purpose now, a reason to keep on fighting. A burning vengeance to vanquish the evil of Rotthorn and all creatures like her from the world and now with the Hunters Bane coursing through him, he had the power to see it done.

Farrus woke in the dead of night to the pattering of rain his face. Vision blurred and disorientated he slowly rose to his feet staggering on the soft, damp, uneven ground, an unbearable stench filled his lungs.

His vision returned and he found himself stood in a 30 by 30ft pit beside a huge withered oak tree with black tangled roots that protruded from the side of the pit wall. He looked at his footing and saw body parts, dozens of dismembered limbs soaked in bile of decomposing fluids, and he retched at the sight before him and climbed out of the mass grave and looking upon the dead, he saw amongst the dozens of remains, Hailian armour and weapons and he could only assume that they belonged to the rest of the surviving solders.

His vengeance brewed and a blood lust took over Farrus as he saw the crooked hut off in the distance, he slowly snuck through the door and noticed a figure in the bed in the far corner of the room, He stole Rotthorns' alchemy notes and several ingredients and upon leaving he set the place a blaze and fled for the nearest city.

On that day he vowed to make it his purpose to hunt down and destroy any evil that infects the world as she had.

From then on Farrus travelled the land taking on contracts where he could, slaying monsters, helping others in a similar situation that he was in and occasionally finding other allies to help learn more about monsters in the dark and developing the best methods of hunting them..

Recent Events
Farrus is one of the six Adventurers that respond to the Summons of the Sekken Steiner