A dragonborn ranger with a prickly sense of honor
Jakarr, had recently just arrived in the area of the Citadel after having traveled for many months seeking fame and fortune. He carried with him few things of real worth, save one; an ornate greataxe handed down by the elders of clan McCormick as a rite of passage into adulthood. This axe had been handed down through the male members of his bloodline and was considered by all a birthright. One evening, whilst out hunting for game, Jakarr was ambushed by a group of brigands. Though fighting valiantly, at 10 – 1 odds he was quickly subdued and clubbed into unconsciousness.
Upon awaking the next morning, he found that the brigands, led by a strangely loud, bearded half-elf male named “Mayes”, had been content to rob him of everything, including his axe. With this realization, Jakarr was filled with a red cloud of rage that has remained with him ever since. How dare that bearded half-breed and his gang of cowards not only steal his axe but rob him as well! Had they not the courage to finish him off?! Did they dare think that by merely subduing him he would meekly go on about his business? They even stole his axe; his legacy, handed down through the generations of his line!
And yet, underneath these raging thoughts, at the quiet place in the back of his mind, Jakarr suspected that Mayes had been correct. He was a nestling, to be so easily overcome and so early on in the fight. The blood of generations of bold fighters flowed through his veins and at the first real experience of combat, he is subdued. Pathetic. He wasn’t worthy of the axe of his fathers that the elders graced him with after all.
With these thoughts swirling about his mind, Jakarr realized only slowly that he still had his bow, no doubt due to its poor condition. Jakarr made his way to the nearest city, known to everyone in the region as the Citadel of Brennen, bent on finding this Mayes character and regaining his birthright. With the loss of his axe, he vowed to not pick another one up until his was returned. He concentrated instead on honing his ranger abilities, confident that with these he would be able to track down Mayes and company.
And so enters Jakarr, dragonborn ranger. Quick to take offense at the slightest impingement (either real or imagined) to his honor, he follows the teachings of Kord whenever possible.
As an addendum: Being a member of subclan McCormick, Jakarr was en rout to the Citadel in order to join the elite ranks of Stormtongue clan, there to make a name for himself and gain recognition. During his travels, however, he noticed that his Gaelic accent would often invite snickers and snide comments from passersby. He therefore set about suppressing his native accent for a more cultured and pretentious one. Unfortunately, the suppression was not complete and whenever he is running on adrenaline, Jakarr’s native Gaelic accent comes to the fore.
As a further addendum: On an evening not to long ago, Jakarr sat in a tavern enjoying a mug of mead after a long day of menial labor for little pay. Whilst contemplating his current skills and purse size, a drunken dragonborn staggered over to his table…