Skrum
Skrum emerges from Laga’s ash-choked alleys shortly after dusk, his twin butcher-blades swinging. His green skin glistens with sweat and dried blood, and his eyes burn with a hunger that is neither for coin nor glory—but for the primal satisfaction of survival.
In the wild ridges of the Firefang Jags, where femurs and ribs lie half-buried in lava-rock and volcanoes churn through the night, Skrum thrives. The Brotherhood of the Bloodthirst calls him hunter, collector, devourer—not a word to soften the truth. He tracks prey by scent of fear, by the crack of brittle earth beneath boots, by the faint gasp that signals regret.
When the hunt ends, the feast begins. In Laga’s hall draped in skins and skulls, Skrum sits between vampires, men and goblins alike, raising a chalice of steaming marrow and howling the name of dark entities to a toast. The blades he wields have split more than flesh—they have carved his place in the Brotherhood’s nightmare legacy.
Current Location
Species
Ethnicity
Children
Gender
Man
Aligned Organization