Dark Sun Blood and Silt
Mysterious Ex-Gladiator Hailing from Tyr
Xendrik is a normal sized human who has black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He almost always wears a hooded tan cloak over his armor to hide his face and better blend in with a crowd if needed. The cloak is reversible and colored black on the opposite side. He uses the black side at night time or if he needs to quickly change his appearance. A particularly nasty scar stretches across the side of his cheek.
My story begins in the blistering sand of the arena. I wasn't always a slave but I hardly remember a time when I wasn't. Taken at an age I cannot even remember I was trained to spill the blood of whomever stood before me on command.
"For honor and glory" they would tell me. But I could always see beyond this facade, I was nothing more than meat to be slaughtered for the gain of my master and the entertainment of others.
There was no honor or glory in this, but it was my desire to perhaps one day earn my freedom that motivated me to slay the men they put before me. Stranger fighting stranger for no other reason than at the whim or their masters.
In all my years fighting in the sands of the arena I made few friends. Though the men who fought in our house took to the liking of calling one another "brother" I had no such inclination. These men were not my brothers, they were just slaves like me, forced into a situation where their perception of things became twisted.
That's not to say I did not come to make a friend or two in my time there. Most whom I befriended came to an untimely demise at the end or someones spear. I suppose it was the inevitable departure from this world that warned me of growing too attached to any one man. However, despite my nature I made a good friend in Silvanus.
He had found himself in great debt to a noble man and for his crime was sentenced to spill blood in the arena's sands. Not a warrior by any means he found his lessons harsh and brutal, but in time his skills grew as did our friendship.
He often talked of a crown of dust, some ancient relic of a time long ago past. Somedays, I had wished he would just silence himself on the matter for it seemed like all he ever wanted to talk about was this crown.
"It's must be quite valuable!", he would say.
"If only we could get out of here, I'm sure we could find it, and then I could pay off that noble and once again regain my freedom."
You see, hope is a valuable thing when everything else you have has been taken away. It was for this reason we took an oath to one another to find this so called "dust crown" if ever we were to leave this place. We often made plans on where to begin, and what to do, it became an escape for both of us, a time where we would forget about the place we were in and what we were forced to do.
On perhaps the saddest day of my life, Silvanus fell in the arena's sand, a mere week before the events in the city of Try would see the sorcerer king dead and all slaves freed. How close he had come to to fulfilling his dream.
I made a fairly decent living when I was freed. Who knew the skills I had learned in the arena would be so valuable outside of it? So much wealth around me everywhere I looked, just ripe for the taking. My less than honorable activities drew the attention of a band of minstrels from Balic who had wandered into town to perform their shows. This is how I became one of the Black Dragons. Much have I learned from them in my time spent among their ranks.
Some time had passed since I had won my freedom. I was walking by a shop when I saw a most beautiful painting of the most extravagant jewel encrusted crown upon the head of an unknown king in a far off land. Suddenly the beauty of this painting became a harsh reminder of the oath I had made to Silvanus so long ago. I used all the resources I had to begin my journey seeking out the crown of dust to fulfill my oath. I tracked down information on a group of adventurers who also sought the crown. Perhaps it would be best to seek them out...