I wanted to put down a kossith OC on the paper for 3 reasons. First;
I wanna say that this guy has been in my head since I played DA2. Second;
I am not a good writer, so there might be mostly just for show. Third;
I wanted to show a different face
than what we are used to in the DA2 game. This is mainly for conceptual ideas. Faces and bodies so to speak. Okey here is the bio:
Hight: 2. 40 meter
Religion: He is in for the Tal' Vashoth.
He looks very intimidating in his face. Despite that he is only 35 years old, he looks at least ten years older. Has one broken horns on his left side of his head.
Otherwise the horns are middle sized, between Arishok's and the soldiers from the game kinda size.
Wears a shoulder pad on his right arm, the Kossith leather pants with addition of a custom made stomach protector.
Has his special boots which he made a small enhancement after finding some steel on few random Fex warriors, laying around. Dead.
Otherwise he have his glove and a leather arm wrist thingy.
Here is an very short story of his past, right before his convertion to the True Grey. Keep it in mind that I have been thinking of some changes regarding this character for those who might have met me in a RPG site.
- As the dreadnought ship was about to drive it's bow towards the grim city called Kirkwall, a couple of kilometers away, the storm worsen much more than what the Qunari taam anticipated.
The whole ship was about to be pushed towards a small, but yet very dangerous sharp formations of rocks on one small island by very tall wave. So badly that even the mighty kossith army could not take much control of the doomed ship.
The Kithshok of Seheron himself was pushed over board towards the island's dangerous shore along with some of his brethren. As his head hit the oceans' cruel surface he knew that his life was on the line. As he swam towards it he could see a huge amount to blood covering the spot he struggled through.
Then he as he finally pushed through the surface, the deadly shore was there in his sight, closer than he thought before he fell of the ship. The dark, wet and brooding sharp stones that pointed towards the sea, away from the vashedan city, as if it was suppose to be some sort of trap for anyone whom where unlucky for any travelers to enter the shore of the infamous Free Marches in the midst of a storm. What a strange formation.
Despite these dangers in mind, he swam toward a small spot that was not covered in these rocks. The waves thrashed him back and forth, back and forth as he tried to get there.
Every time they pushed him back, he could see that the rocks where now coming closer and closer on one of his side of his mighty torso, the direction was apparently pointed out for him, thanks to these waves.
And then as the trajectory was apparently starting to show towards his death, he then pushed even harder than ever to get to that little safe spot.
His sharpened eye pointed towards one of the ship's many parts that somehow got to him in the midst of all the many thousands of waves, and used it as a lifeboat and a armor in order to have a chance to get there alive. He didn't see that the ship was already wrecked by the overly strong rocks underneath the waves before it even hit the island.
The waves then thrashed him above some of the pointy rocks and threw him further past that spot. Much more so he ended up on a huge shrubbery that was behind the many and mighty rocks. Everything around went black.
As he woke up, he found himself in a unknown cave. It was cold and dark, but he did not panicked. Despite the fall he didn't lost his memory for who he was suppose to be, a Kithshok of Seheron, just waiting to invade Kirkwall. But the pain on his head was not to be mistaken. The fall was pretty rough.
But where was he?
Still lying on a cold rock, he turned his head. He saw some silhouettes by a opening to his "room".