Pak'Cha, "The Fist"

"You poor bastards have me surrounded! Do you surrender yet?"
User: Ethan
Campaign: Dark Sun: Rising
Race: Thri-Kreen
Gender: Male
Role: Striker
Class/Level: Monk/5
Fairly tall, Pak'Cha stands at roughly 6'4. His rough Chitin is a light sandy brown. Slender of limb, and light footed, he is quick on the draw, eagerly looks towards supporting, and serving his clutch well.
The end of a clutch

The roar of the crowd, as another of Pak'Cha's Clutch falls in the arena. A slow burning rage fills his mind. Clenching all four of his fists, he grits his mandibles, and unleashes a flurry of blows, against their foes. He snarls in his own tongue, his fury clear. This was a rigged match. This was supposed to be a promotional fight.

He grapples with another fighter, his tough claws tearing into the man's flesh. Striking quickly, and moving on, he drops the man, his chest crumpled inwards. Turning to see how his clutch mates are faring, he sees his last clutch mate cut down, with a savage strike to the leg. Pak'Cha loses control, and in a brutal series of attacks, either disarms, or disables his remaining three foes, technically ending the fight.

Moving to care for his clutch mates, to see how serious their wounds were. While attempting to tend to his youngest clutch mate, he failed to see the gladiators he their were fighting, pick up there weapons- and begin to cut down his other fallen clutch-mates.

Snarling a curse in common, as a sword is buried into the chest of his fallen clutch mate. He rises, his claws tearing into the chest, and face of the man holding the sword. To the roaring approval of the crowd, he quickly cuts down the remaining pair of humans, turning aside their blows with suicidal concentration. He survives the fight, earning himself the name "The Fist" in the process.

The downfall of a Warrior, The rise of a Monk
Having failed his clutch in battle, and also urged his clutch into taking the rigged promotional fight, Pak'Cha blames himself for the fall of his clutch. Alone in the city of Balic, with no clutch, and no Pack, suffering serious wounds. As he recovered, and showed no signs of continuing to fight without a clutch, he was sold off as a basic laborer. A year, and a day after his sale, with only a pitiful clutch to his name, Pak'Cha was in the slaves sale yard, when a One-Eyed Merchant came through, looking for a crew with experience in running a silt skiff. Buying several dwarfs, and a pair of Elves, he also buys Pak'cha, muttering to himself that Thri-kreens are good for Sailing. Leading this group of "Sailors" to the docks, he passes them over to the care of a massive Dwarf, and a pale strange looking demon.
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