Description:

A rough-hewn, human-looking man, Ethan's size betrays his giant lineage. He lacks the ceremonial scars and tattoos common amongst goliath, instead bearing several deep scratches and gnashes, long-since healed wounds. His right eye is brown, and glazed with a yellow tint, while his left eye always seems to be shaded by his brow, no matter the angle or the lighting in the room.

His clothes are simple, a frayed shirt, a large chest tied to his back, and a set of muddied commoner's pants. His feet are wrapped in simple treated leather, and bound to his ankles with a rope. Overall, he appears like a drunkard or braggart.

His equipment is similarly poor in quality and yet it appear to be rather well cared for; a worn poleaxe slung around his shoulder, it seems to have been fashioned from a carved branch, wrapped parts of the handle with leather, and uses a heavy wrought iron scythe head stuck vertically along the shaft.

Personality Traits:

I put no stock in others, especially if they're wealthy or overly kind and just. Gold and morals won't help when you're faced with a starving beast.

I get in a foul mood if I don't have a drink in me.

Ideals:

Duty. Although its grim and sickening, feeding the thing inside me is better than letting it go hungry, that the flesh it prefers have a bounty is also a bonus, though.

Bonds:

My weapons are the only thing that have yet to let me down, I care for them more than my own kith and kin. if I had any.

Flaws:

Don't expect me to save those who can't save themselves. Weak folk should stay behind walls while the beasts roam.

I always end up dirty and torn up anyway, so "hygiene" and "self care" are far from my priorities.

Backstory:

Born in a modest village in the family of the chief, Ethan's upbringing was rather nice. He always had food on the table, he learned farmwork, how to hunt, and was particularly devout. Thanks to his heritage, he was also quite robust, making him quite popular among the village folk as an upstanding, hard-working young man. His life was good, 'till The Beast came.

Slowly, villagers started going missing, only to show up later with a blank memory of what had happened to them. The village started to change, the fields became blighted, animals passed away or went berserk, and the people who went missing started acting oddly. As Ethan would find out one red-stained night, a foul demon of the abyss had made its way into the village and it had been torturing and manipulating it from the shadows. He awoke at the witching hour, tied to an altar, with the fiend, a giant, doubled-mawed hound, teeth spilling from it's mouth like a mound of maggots on a corpse. The creature waiting as its meal was about to be prepared, Ethan's own father was out of his mind, about to pierce a dagger into the young man's stomach. Just before that could happen, Ethan ripped out of his bindings and launched the headpiece of the altar at the beast, drawing blood from its brow. Instead of being enraged, the beast found his struggle amusing, deeming him a worthy vessel. That night is blurry for him, but all he knows is that he awoke covered in blood, his left eye in searing pain, and feeling bloated.

His life after that was, naturally, one of violence. He spent a lot of time as a mercenary for hire, known for his brutal combat and unrelenting endurance. This lasted for 7 odd years, up until the company he worked under was routed and annihilated. After barely running away with his life, he's been drifting from town to town, begging and working for scraps, that is, until normal beasts proved too simple for the growing hunger of the demon within him, and he decided to pick up proper adventuring in a new town, where neither his name nor curse were known.