Name: Panlamin Winterkin
Class: Brute
Bio: Panlamin was born to the chief of a small tribe, living on a massive tundra in the cold north. He was the strongest and the fastest of his seven brothers, and the whole tribe knew that, although he was not the oldest, he would be chief one day. When he was fifteen summers old, his father died in battle; it was time for Panlamin to take up his title. His two older brothers, Merreak and Vromash, resented his new power. Merreak was a great sorcerer, and Vromash an excellent hunter, and if they were not brothers to Panlamin, one of the would rule; but Panlamin took the title of chief, and his brothers plotted in silence. Panlamin did great things for the Winterkin tribe (so called because according to legend Panlamin's ancestor, the great warrior Dranik the Cruel, had one of the mighty frost giants as a wife), leading his warriors to glory against many foes, and conquering huge stretches of the forests and the plains; even Vromash, once so outspoken against a mere child leading the tribe, respected him and ceased his plotting. Merreak, however, would not be dissuaded. He believed that brains, rather than brawn, should lead the tribe; his resentment merely grew with every conquest and every victory. Merreak made a pact with the ancestor spirits of his father's line, the cruel, cold, giants of the north, for incredible power. Panlamin was struck down in the heat of battle by his ancestors' spirits, called up by his brother's foul necromancy; by right of conquest, the tribe was now Merreak's, gained by trickery rather than honest combat.
Panlamin is a giant of a man, standing seven feet tall, with muscles to rival a pair of oxen. His hair is blinding white, and his eyes bright blue, as all of his father's line; his skin is a light tan, colored by constant exposure to the blinding sun of the cloudless northern skies. He wears a thick bear pelt wrapped around his torso, to fend off the cold, and long leather pants. He carries with him his father's sword (and his father's father's, and his father's before him, and on and on until Dranik the Cruel), a six-foot-long weapon of undecorated iron; it is called Cruel Fang, and was given as a dowry by the Giant King, hundreds of years before Panlamin's birth.
Panlamin rarely speaks to anyone outside his tribe; when he does, it is usually in short commands. Unlike many of his culture, he is not prone to partying and loud celebration, preferring to sit and stare at the stars from just outside the firelight. In battle, he is ferocious, a terror to behold, going into almost a berserker rage; he loves combat, and loves victory most of all. Panlamin is, while not exactly a fair fighter, at least honest; he will not use poison, and hates magic, since neither of these are "true combat". His philosophy of combat is "hit them before they hit you" - get the first strike, and make it deadly, so your enemies never have a chance to retaliate.
Theme: Cold. Giants. His ridiculously large greatsword.