Sorik Galdori

A man stands before you at 5’10. A grin always pasted on his face as if he was up to no good. This man was constantly wearing a cloak with a hood. It was hard to see his face. If you were ever so lucky to see it you would realize he was rather ruggedly handsome. Dark black stubble on his face only did his looks a favor. A rather square jawline and hazel eyes that were everlasting. A small scar split across his left eyebrow as if it was a scar from his childhood. The man's frame was sturdy and muscular but still toned as to stay nimble.

Constantly on his back was a quiver packed with arrows and a longbow. The cloak he wore was long and somewhat elegant. Made of what looked like hawk feathers and his robe was decorated with them right down to his boots. His clothes all had a dark night purple to them with white trimming of coloring.

You would come to learn this man's name as Sorik Galdori. A loud cocky man but easily backed up his mouth. Soriks accent was that of today's Irish but in this land only some have heard this type of accent. Sorik prides himself in drinking and fighting and doing what he and his family do best. Acquiring items from others to turn a profit, and not always by permission. It seems as if Sorik had great pride in his family and was one of many more to come to these lands as he is very far from an only child. It seems as if he is trying to continue on his family's renown lineage.