Human Rogue 1 / Fighter 1
Raised in the slums of Vormenna has a second-class citizen, Gorva was quite young when he witnessed the tyranny of the Elvish Lords of the capital, watched as they dragged his father away in chains and watched as they paraded him on stage and executed him in public. His mother died soon after from sickness, leaving Gorva alone to fend for himself.
To survive, he took to the one path that many find themselves in, one they seen no alternative from, and that was thievery. He started by swiping small items from market stalls, working his way up until he was big enough to jump people in alleyways and club them until they went unconscious. His growing bravery in his art led him to the Thieves' Guild, who happily accepted such a fiery young cutpurse.
Training hard, Gorva honed his skills, but soon found his hatred for the Elves too great to stand being in the same group as them, and was soon sent away from the Thieves' Guild to avoid possibly murdering his fellow footpads. They gave him supplies and sent him eastward towards Hotash, in hopes the guild there could deal with his racist attitudes, but it didn't take long for Gorva to again find himself at odds with his fellow rogues, and at that point decided guild life wasn't for him.
With a handful of fellow patriots, those who likewise felt that Elvenkind wasn't fit to rule, robbed a string of merchant wagons on the road northward from the city, and soon made their life as highwaymen. Gorva quite liked the brute force method of action, as not only would he gain riches, but it also allowed him to slaughter the filthy Elven merchants who travelled the roads.
While they rested from a great haul, camping in the woods after moving further north from the plains to avoid the city guard, Gorva stumbled upon old ruins in the wood, and quickly claimed it as his own. Clearing the vermin and wild beasts that slept within it's underground hallways, the bandits began cleaning it up and constructing rough battlements to turn it into a permanent home.
Unfortunately, it seemed their defenses were for not, as after the long winter months and wet spring had given them little to do, they misjudged a threat that would cost all but a few their lives. Gorva, in his constant mad rush to exterminate Elves and draw others to his cause, kidnapped what seemed to be a simple farmer, but the farmer's hired guards proved to be something else entirely.
Gorva barely had a chance to do much but call them out on their mad mistake in trusting the Elves when a young warrior stepped forward and threw a javelin straight at him, with such speed and ferocity that he didn't even have time to react. The last thing Gorva remembered as he slipt into unconciousness was the sharp pain in his chest and the ringing battlecry of his foe.