Standing amidst several ferocious looking monstrous humanoid's a 6'2" scarred and fit looking human takes a bite out of an apple. The shaggy muscled brutes bare their teeth nervously as they finger their weapons around him. Something didn't seem quite right about the human, he carried a certain understated presence, his eyes... some say the eye's are the window to the soul... and his dark eyes seemed to belay an inner strength that wasn't human... Perhaps he was a powerful sorcerer. The man's look was simple enough, layers of loose fitting brown twill robes and shoulder length blondish hair. Hidden beneath his robes he always wore a fine mithral chainshirt and wore a strange occult like necklace containing a elven mummified hand. Around his waist he wore a leather belt studded with moonstones and looped with a small soft leather case full of darts. The most noticeable item he wore however was a silver signet ring of the House of Tharashk.
Beneath a tough exterior Zef is like the friendly neighbour next door once he has a few drinks. Ever the opportunist, Zef has learnt to take advantage of a situation to survive. Now he's taking a new focus on planning and calculating for the big rewards... he has been awakened and feels it is his time to follow his destiny... however he's reluctant to share that secret with anyone outside of his blood for now.
Born into the house of d'Tharashk far away from the ancestral homeland of the Shadow Marches, Zef was left to fend for himself as was the custom of his people. In young Zef's case this was in the streets of Galethspyre, Wroat and later Sharn. As a young boy he was given a one way passage onboard a boat bound down the river into Breland with his fathers words in his mind.
Only the strong survive my son, prove to us you are d'Tharashk. Go into the world and make it your own, take what you need and pick your fights carefully. Trust no one except for the d'Tharashk. One day you shall be called to return to your House when you are ready... make us proud son...
It was not long before the young boy was swept up into the criminal underworld that thrived throughout Breland. Through the next years he would see the inside of the prisons throughout Galethspyre, Wroat and Sharn. Prison was a part of the underworld lifestyle. Zef had an edge, the chaotic nature of his upbringing charged the dragonblood that ran in his veins... the human side of him was weak, and it was the dragonblood that was required for Zef to be strong and survive. And so Zef's dragon side consumed him.
For a time Zef sought the treasures of old, his mark of finding paid dividends securing employment as a guide trekking through old ruins with relic hunters searching for treasures of the past. Zef also sidelined as a bounty hunter within the city, working both sides of the law hunting fugitives and those marked for death by the criminal underworld.
In prison Zef's dragonblood grew stronger building up latent psionic power within, a power that materialized pure energy from his hands. Energy that was as hard as steel... first materializing during an attempt upon his life in prison. As word spread Zef developed a fearsome reputation amongst the inmates. The hardened criminals who ran the inmates took notice... Zef had the mark of the finder, and he had displayed power beyond what was known about even the dragonmark heirs.
Word of Zef's dragonblood travelled beyond the walls of the prison through those loyal to the House of Tharashk and it was not long before a representative of Tharashk traveled to Sharn to learn the truth. The King's Dark Lantern handler's wished to see the dragonblooded one marked with the sigil of Tharashk, if he would agree to serve them they were willing to secure his release from the dungeons in Sharn... Zef knew that there must be something they wanted from him. No one goes to all that trouble for a crim unless he had something real important they needed...
In a dank stonewalled cell, a lone figure remained curled beneath the holey sacking that was his blanket. The air was cool and the stone floor was uncomfortably cold except for the brief time when the sun shone through the small barred window high up in the wall. Zef was asleep, dreaming of his father as he had last seen him many years before...
Upon the docks, it was sunny with a stiff breeze playing havoc with his hair. His father had a firm expression set as he knelt down to his son's level. Zef remembered the musky smell of the forest and the stubble upon his face.
Only the strong survive my son, prove to us you are d'Tharashk...
Suddenly in his minds eye the scene changed as an eerie darkness enveloped Zef's mind, a wave of anxiety washed over him as Zef turned over in his cot. It was Ulraig ... the Beast. The large half orc was aptly named for his brutality, a wild crazed look in his eye and his gnashing of teeth. Ulraig had a blood frenzy about him and quicker than Zef could react he was smacked painfully across his cell. Zef's head snapped to one side as he relived the torment of his nightmare. Ulraig roared in relish, there was no one to come to the Finders aid, he had brutally made sure of that. Looking at Zef as he struggled to rise, the half orc's eye's widen in excited anticipation as he strides over to the puny human.
Zef locks his eyes upon the mighty Ulraig, it wasn't supposed to end like this. The dragon marked human's blood pressure rose, pumping adrenalin and charging his dragon blood throughout his body as his fists clenched tightly. The beast wasn't going to crush his skull like he had done to so many others... Zef was determined, even if he had no weapon... and that's when it happened. Emerging from behind his knuckles a blue blade of pure energy extended slowly almost stopping the half orc in his tracks as his expression changed to one of surprise.
Launching himself at his larger opponent, Zef spins around his foe instinctively swiping his blue arm blade across the creatures abdomen as he passes. A thin blue line errupts into blue flames as the half orc's gut opens spilling his intestines out and assaulting Ulraig's nose with the smell of burning flesh. The beasts large bloodied arms struggle to hold his guts in with a look of pure horror evident as he realizes his mortality. Zef leaps up and punches the length of his steel blue down into Ulraig's shoulder, and removes it in a wash of deep red arterial blood as more blue flames flare up from deep within the wound...
Zef awakens and sits bolt upright sweat glistening upon his forehead as his mind struggles to adjust to the awakening from a dream. Instinctively raising his right arm, Zef looks in wonder at the brillant blue energy blade that has returned.
The blade has returned ...!