Barakor the Watcher

Atop the great gate of Burakrin stands an ever-vigilant watcher. Barakor they call him, "Strong Eye" in our common tongue.

The slayer guild found him wandering the desert, which isn't too uncommon a sight unfortunately. His skin was grey and craggy, like any rugged Dwarf, but his height surpassed that of the tallest Orcs. This half-dwarf giant of a man trembled with every step he took, be it from pain, exhaustion, or the mental burden of the things he had seen, none knew; but they did know this man needed help.

As they tended to his wounds, the slayers realized the half-dwarf was doing far worse than they had even dared to consider. A large gash split the muscles on his right thigh, while an equally large bite had been taken out of his left ankle. His chest was ripped to shreds by claws that had pierced through and out his back. His cheek had merely been grazed, leaving some of his teeth exposed through the bloody slit. This giant of a man had been standing but through sheer force of will.

Then, as one of the slayers brushed the coarse, unkempt hair out of the giant's face, they saw his eye---Or lack thereof... Whatever had attacked him, and left his body in such a state, was a beast of shadow. And it had embedded a piece of its parasitic essence in this poor man's eyesocket, like a macabre brand, slowly eating away at whatever sanity remained, all the while corrupting his flesh.

With a steady hand, one of the slayers applied all of their skill to sear away the blight upon the giant's eye. He flinched as the parasite lashed out at his mind, amplifying every minute sensation it felt and projecting it onto him. His entire body felt as if it were set aflame, but he grit his teeth and waited, unblinking; Only shifting as the invader attempted to move his limbs before quickly wrestling back control.

As the searing pain faded from his mind, he finally felt the cool sand in which he lay, now thoroughly stained in his blood.

Barakor now stands atop the great gate, his eyes fixed on the desert, greeting all who enter, and watching over those who leave. Invaluable to the Slayers Guild, he sounds the alarm whenever the beasts break through the rifts.

With one eye he gazes further than anyone else, but with his mind he sees what lies on the other side. Barakor never leaves his post, and some say he never even sleeps.

The gentle giant would never tell you this tale, much less show off his scars, but he always enjoys the company of a guest.