Bio

Broc is 6'6" and 240 lbs. of pure muscle, a vicious brute ready for combat at a moments notice.  He is quite loyal to his companions and expresses extreme prejudice to his enemies.  During battle, his brown mane flows with the wind, his blue eyes shine with mirth, and as he hacks away limb and life his smile broadens.  At the times when his rage overcomes his senses, his smile turns upside down into a frown.  During his bouts of rage, he will howl like the rabid dog he is, and snarl like the fiend he becomes.  When his rage ends, so will his desire to fight, at least for a few moments —for Broc is a mighty warrior, afraid of no one. Let all who challenge him be frightened.

Broc hails from North Redding, where the landscape is as barren as a war torn village; life is hard and cold for the people in those parts.  Broc's father was a mighty fighter, and Broc wanted to achieve the same success.  Broc, when he came of age, set out to prove himself for his father, unknowing what he will encounter and also unknowing the power that he has on his side.

With the wind howling and the daylight losing its luster, the burly man takes his son by the hand and leads him to a rocky perch, where they sit while overlooking their village.  The man brandishes a sword that was wrapped with animal hides.  "Now son, let me teach you about cold steel."

The boy, who couldn't be more than 9 years old responds, "What's that Da?"

"Steel is the greatest gift I can give you.  And soon you will begin training in using this sword."  The father then gently places the handle in the boy's hand.  As if it was a comedy routine, the sword and boy both fall to the ground.  The weight of the sword easily surpasses the weight of the scrawny youth.

"But Da, I-I can't lift it.  It's just too heavy", the boy says in a frustrated manner.

The father chuckles, "Dear Broc, you have to first grow some more.  Maybe eat some more of your mother's potatoes."  The man then using his bear-like hands clasps the boy's shoulder.  His hand easily covers the youths upper arm entirely.  "Maybe work with me out in the field so we can bulk you up,"  he says, smiling.

Broc looks up to his father, his eyes in awe of the massive frame of his dad.  "You think I could be as big as you?"

"Bigger be my guess", The man then looks back at his sword.  "Now, let us return to our lesson.  This sword is very special to me…to our family.  It has saved my life many times over.  When it is time, this sword will be yours.  And if you treat it well, it will treat you just as well."

Broc looking confused, "But Da, how does a sword treat me well?"

"In time you shall see…you shall see", responds Broc's father, looking at his boy and imagining him becoming even a greater warrior than himself.  Just that thought alone, makes him extremely proud of his son.  And then at the same time, internally, the father is also saddened by the thought that one day his only child would leave and may never return.

"Da…Da?" says Broc, jumping up and down trying to get his father's attention. 

The father snaps out of his blank stare, "Sorry son…I…I was just thinking of something.  Not to worry.  Let us get back to our lesson once again."  Looking at his son's eyes,he adds, "You see, not only is this sword special, but it may prove to be your only true ally.  Sometimes, people who you are friends with will betray you.  They may even try to hurt you.  But this sword will never do that.  It shall never break and it shall never rust.  And most importantly, it shall never fail you.  Especially if you use it wisely".

Eyes wide with amazement, Broc listens intently unto his fathers words.  Broc waited for him to finish before he dared even to speak.  "So all of my friends will be-betray me?"

"Not all.  But some could.  So always be wary of people but never be wary of your steel", Broc's father says with pride and a smile.  "And that is your first lesson in cold steel".  The father looks back towards the village, "Now come, your mother will have my hide if we are late for dinner."

As the last remaining bits of light fade away, the youth and his father briskly walk down the mountain slope in the direction of the village.