Party of Scoundrels
“He would dip in and out the shadows like he were made of ‘em. Any time we caught a glimpse of him, one of us fell. Then I seen him scurry betwixt two fellas and stick a knife in a third, and before the other two could get a jump on ’em, he’d already shoved a knife through one’s knee, and shot the other man in the throat at the same time! That’s when I caught a real glimpse of him — just for one heartbeat. He wore some kind of sneaky garb, with all sorts of holsters and compartments strapped to it. His face was all covered up; the lower by a mask and the top by some machine goggles of some sort. Then he was gone again. I ran with the fear of hells in me, just wonderin’ when he was gonna shank me from some dark hole. I wish I’d known he wasn’t after any of us — we was just in his way.”
Morkot rarely speaks. Despite his battlefield prowess, he seems willing to follow any plan, no matter how foolhardy, while taking little care for his own safety. He carries a deep scar that runs from his right pectoral, through an eye, to the top of his forehead.
Those who have fought by Morkot’s side note his immense skill in battle. He carries an arsenal of tools that would make any assassin swoon. However, his true weapon is a mind filled with years of training, which he uses to bring any fight to a close with ruthless efficiency.
Morkot with minimal loadout.
Used, humiliated, and hunted by his former masters. Morkot has yet to divulge any further information about his origins.