Thokk is a mountain of muscle, standing nearly seven feet tall with skin the color of a bruised plum. His face is a roadmap of scars, the most prominent being a jagged line from his brow to his jaw. He wears massive bear pelts that smell faintly of pine and old sweat. His equipment is dented and worn, held together by leather straps and sheer grit. Despite his terrifying size, his small, dark eyes often carry a look of quiet confusion or simple curiosity.

Thokk is slow to speak and even slower to understand a joke. He doesn't have much of a filter, saying exactly what he thinks with a deep, gravelly voice. He possesses a strange, immovable patience for children and animals, but a very short fuse for bullies and arrogant nobles. He values actions over words, and his actions are usually quite loud and destructive.

Thokk spent twelve years in the Iron Vanguard, a frontline infantry unit. He was their battering ram, the first one through the gates and the last one to leave the field. He survived battles that claimed the lives of men far faster and smarter than him simply because his body refused to stop moving. He was never a strategist. He was a force of nature that obeyed the sounds of the drum and the screams of his sergeant. That life ended when he saw a fellow officer stealing grain from starving villagers. Thokk didnt report the crime. He simply broke the officer's arm and walked away from the army forever. Since then, he has wandered the world as a freelancer. He carries the weight of his fallen comrades in his silence, finding peace only in the simple rhythm of a hard day's work or the chaotic clarity of a rage. He chose the path of the bear because, like the great beast, he wants to be the one who stands between the world and those who would harm it. He knows he isn't a hero of legend, but he is a shield that won't break.