Born into a life of poverty and ill fortune, Fhaldar didn't let this
affect his demeaner at all. Both his parents were killed in a rather
calculated goblin invasion, caught unaware on a date upon the southern gate.
Giggling, half drunk while a goblin snuck up behind them. Orphaned into the
monastery at the age of 7, he was easily malleable into the aesthetics of a
monks life. Slightly above average stature and aptitude gave him the
ability to master most hand to hand combat stances by the time he was
seventeen and a humble upbringing, Fhaldar adventured forth from the
monastery to seek out his higher purpose.
Standing at roughly six feet, his muscles loose. He shifts side to side,
with fluid subtle movements. Fhaldar's face is not unattractive, though
years before this wouldn't have been the case. Now, scars of varying size
and degree accentuate his previously rugged good looks. His hair, once a
beautiful golden hue, now stained with dirt, blood, and grime lays very
unkempt. Shoulders that have quite clearly seen their fair share of
rigorous activity, extend out into well muscled arms. His hands are dried,
calloused, cracked and covered in scars. His torso is just as toned, and
just as scarred, leading into his legs, which he always keeps covered.