A short, dogged tengu with a chip on his shoulder and a hipe

Hatched in the care of a mercenary band after they recovered the egg from his pregnant mother's hanging corpse, Bok was trained in the arts of combat from an early age. It was not easy being on the road constantly but a mix of found family and not being the most successful, affluent group of mercs lead Bok to prioritise looking out for those in need; something that ended up driving a wedge between him and potentially more pragmatic group members.
Years passed and after surviving a leg injury that left him permanently unable to fight, Bok's adoptive father grew bitter and resentful towards the little bird. One night, this negative resentment finally matured into full blown hate as he attempted to take his adopted sons life in cold blood with a single stroke of his blade. However, this was not to be- a combination of his hubris in waking the lad to see the final look on his face and his physical impairment lead to Bok successfully defending himself against the attack. As unwieldy as the sword he had grown so used to was to parry with, Bok made a critical mistake and slew the man with a thrust to the throat instead of disarming him.
Devastated and confused, Bok had then to cope not only with the attempted betrayal, loss of his mentor but the impending alarm that spread through the camp like a lapping flame.
 
"HE KILLED HIM! HE KILLED THE ONE WHO TOOK HIM IN!"
 
"INGRATE!"
 
His choice to survive brought forth the other members of the band, people he'd known all his life now primed to enact the vengeance for their fallen comrade. His protests unheeded; they began.
 
It was now or never; he fled only with his blade, a pot on his head that he donned in a spur of the moment to protect against frantic arrows knock'd in his direction. A liberated horse to carry him into the night.
 
++++
 
From then on, he went from group to group- finding work where he could as a sellsword. It's was grim and gruelling at times but none more so than that night when he found himself surrounded by horrors. Shambling horrors that extinguished the lives of all he'd lead to thier ends on that one contract- it wasn't worth it. It was never worth it.
 
Surrounded by the stilled bodies, both friend and for he swore on that night he'd never let another innocent be claimed by these things.
 
The dead should stay dead.

Age

I dont know like 47 bird years or something

Gender

Male

Eyes

Grey n black

Hair

Black

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Dusky grey

Height

4ft (with saucepan helm)

Weight

Small