Pryor Gaffhook - Human - Fighter - (Colby)

## Biography

Pryor Gaffhook was born in the seaside shanty village, of Gallows Cove on Kayslippe Island. As an adolescent he began working at the wharf along side his brothers. It was backbreaking labor and the crews that came in through Gallows Cove weren’t the most reputable. Pryor had his fair share of brawls working the docks. As a young man Pryor was recruited by the Ravonkeep Federation, a quickly growing faction that sprang out of the remnants of the Bluerook Rebellion. They offered Pryor a position in their naval crew. Pryor couldn’t resist the chance to see the world outside Gallows Cove. He had always heard stories of the Mystics’ Caravans that roamed the north coast of Plintithe Isle, or the fortress-like tavern in Whitcrest, standing three stories tall.

Only days later a schooner bearing the Ravonkeep Crest arrived at the port in Gallows Cove. Pryor soon became a crucial part of the crew aboard The Salvo, moving quickly up the ranks from deckhand to one of the crew’s most respected fighters. For nearly five years, Pryor traveled from port to port spreading the influence of the Ravonkeep Federation, and lending support to allies. While they ran into their fair share of barbarian hordes, drunken bar patrons, and pilfering thieves, the Salvo’s crew went relatively unharmed. During a simple cargo delivery though, the crew realized their ship was being followed.

Before they could adjust their course a massive warship came into view on the horizon behind them. The ten sail ship quickly caught up with them. As the crew rushed to man the cannons on the deck below, the warship unleashed a deafening barrage of artillery, tearing into the Salvo. The ship, now filled with holes was boarded by the pirate crew, which outnumbered them three to one. In the fray, Pryor was tossed from the deck into the ocean waters below. The next thing he knew, he woke up on the shoreline surrounded by splintered wood and a grizzly throbbing gash on the back of his head. Pryor managed to hobble his way up the shoreline to a large sunbleached shack, flying the Ravonkeep flag. He learned from the soldiers inside that he was at a Ravonkeep storehouse for the Calmoire farms. Pryor quickly realized he was so far off course that he must have drifted in the ocean, unconscious, for days.

   His thoughts immediately turned to his crew. What had happened in that fight? It almost seemed like it could have been a nightmare if there wasn’t still traces of gunpowder and blood caked onto his hands. The soldiers arranged for Pryor to be sailed into Port Aluvius, where he would be given a new set of weapons, armor, and room at the Ravonkeep barracks until the whereabouts of his crew could be confirmed. Weeks went by before Pryor heard anything. He had bided his time helping at the barracks, but he was missing the open sea. A chief informed him that the corpses of half of his crew have been recovered so far. Pryor wondered where the other dozen might be. Did the pirates take them hostage? Did they manage to make a crash-landing upon a rocky shore? Maybe they ended up like he did and they’ve just not been able to find help yet. Or maybe there are just a dozen corpses still floating in the sea. Pryor declined the chiefs offer to enlist him in a new crew. For all Pryor knew, some of his crew might still be out there and he was the only person that would be looking for them.

## Physical Appearance

Average height with a muscular build. Short cropped black hair with thin, patchy beard. His skin tanned from years working on the deck of the Salvo; covered with scars, abrasions, and grime. He wears a thin olive covered tunic and tattered black slacks, tucked into tall dark leather boots. He wears a tightly fastened turban upon his head, dyed blood-red to signify his allegiance to the Ravonkeep Federation. He wears a heavy hide overcoat to keep the elements off him, which offers a moderate amount of protection from foes.

## Personality and Mannerisms

A life on the open seas have given Pryor a no-nonsense, hard working attitude. His crew was, and still is, his lifeline and his loyalty to them is unconditional. His natural instinct is to protect the innocent, and he would never hurt someone unable to protect themselves. While relatively ineffectual in his speaking, Pryor does enjoy good banter, and will always try and join in singing work songs and sea shanties. Pryor enjoys a hearty drink or two at the pub, but has seen what a few too many drafts can do to even the best of men. While he is not entirely trusting or open with unfamiliar faces, he gives people who seem good-hearted a chance to prove themselves. Pryor admires individuals with a good work ethic, and strong convictions. One thing that does make Pryor uncomfortable is the open use of magic. He doesn't think that using magic necessarily makes people bad, but is unfamiliar with it as he rarely has seen it used in his day to day life. Pryor is suspicious of those whose goal is to obtain power and wealth. He sees people who don't have to shed blood, sweat, and tears for their earnings as undeserving. He does his best to suppress greed and his crew taught him that everyone gets a even and fair share.