Towering at over eight feet tall, Drakhor is a hulking mass of raw muscle and primal fury. Coarse, dark fur stretches over a body carved for battle, each arm thick as an ancient oak, ending in hands that could crush bone with ease. From his brow curve two worn, scarred horns, relics of countless struggles within the Maze, the endless nightmare of shifting stone and echoing roars from which he clawed his way free. A heavy gold ring pierces his broad, bestial snout, glinting faintly in the dark.

He remembers only fragments of that escape: walls collapsing into light, a low hum that tore through his mind, and then cold earth beneath his hooves. The Maze?s whispers still cling to him, guiding and mocking in equal measure. When Drakhor first opened his eyes to the mortal realm, the air felt wrong, too still, too soft. His yellow eyes, burning with confusion and instinct, searched for the labyrinth?s walls, but found only open sky. Every movement, every ripple of sinew, carries the tension of a beast born from the impossible, walking a world he does not yet understand, seeking to learn why the Maze let him go.

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English is not my first language (spanish player), so please be patient :P

Greens: As for the lights, I go with the flow.

Reds: Don't forget the server rules!