Kralle

Summary:
Kralle is a reformed savage plaguelander, exiled from his old clan after having been accused of murder. Saved by an intelligent old imperial, Kralle learned that knowledge can be just as powerful as physical strength. Now he seeks to bring justice to the plaguelands, and to all of Sornieth.
Kralle has a no-nonsense personality, and is very observant and critical of others. A practical thinker, though never above a fight should the need arise.

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Learned sophistication+plague savagery.
Kralle seeks to bring law and order to the plage lands of might-makes-right.
He believes a good mind must be equipped with strong claws.
Prefers trial by combat, to classic fend for yourself against mob mentality.
Believes the weak deserve a chance (but only one chance) to prove themselves capable.
Likes to sharpen his cane with his dewclaws, usually does it out of habit/when nervous.

Qualities:
- Practical thinker
- Observant and critical of others
- Learned to restrain his more savage intuitions

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Kralle's past was filled with countless faces and names. All best not remembered, for you never know when one might die. And they died often. Every day was a blur of gnashing teeth and ripping talons. Some weeks clan mates would drop like flies, replaced just as quickly as they fell. Roaming the plague lands, scavenging and hunting as they went. There was never a day lived without fear and hunger.
'Shroom' was his name then, though of course few knew it, and even fewer lived to remember it. Shroom lived much longer than most of his clan mates, eventually he became a leader of sorts. He had sway over what few decisions the hoard made, and some resented him for it. The hoard become more restless with bitter whispers of unusual deaths, there had to be someone to blame. Bitter rivals turned to biting enemies, eventually Shroom's life was very nearly ripped from his talons by the gnashing teeth and ripping talons he once led.

But it was only very nearly ripped from him.

He only remembered the blood, the feeling of helplessness, his own limbs failing him for the first time. And his bitter rival's parting words.

"Plaguemother take you! It seems that you are no longer fit to survive!"

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