Archim knows little of his earliest origins, only what he can piece together from the wild mutterings of his now delusional grandmaster. His entire life has been the small monastary where he and his brother Hakon were deposited by wandering gypsies at the tender age of 8. Whether he was one of them or had been their captive or travelling companion no one could say. Out of the swirling chaos of his humble beginnings a tremendous burning need for order, and the benevolence it allowed, awoke within Archim. He and his brother had been stellar pupils of the Great and venerable Grandmaster Bon. Long were the hours they spent toiling under his direct tutelage, learning the rigours of diverse forms of martial arts, contemplating the wonderful mysteries of the outside universe and striving to quell the raging torrent that was the inner maelstrom. He had devoted himself to the furtherance of his knowledge and the spread of the Greatest and Wisest Sage of all, Lord Aragen. Honing both his mental and physical prowess to a keen edge was Archim sole motivation, that is before the recent tumult. In the dead of night, not two months past, the monastary had been raided by a furtive band of rogues and assassins. The religious communities in the Lar region in the North of the Mistone continent had long thought itself safe and secure in its impregnable ring of mountains, how wrong they all were. Someone had alerted the mastermind of this heinous act to a sacred relic of unknown powers that was being held in safekeeping by the Grandmaster for someone many leagues away. Not only was this priceless artifact stolen, but when caught in the act the bandits had poisoned the Grandmaster. Not with mere snake vennom or scorpion sting, but with dragons breath. Ever since the attack the Grandmaster has been insensible, struggling to cloth and feed himself let alone continue the teaching of his charges. Now, the Berek brothers have left the confines of their monastic home, but not their devotion to the God of knowledge. Now, they seek the return of the relic and the cure for their master. Now, they seek their destiny ... Archim is of average height, reaching 5'9", with strong broad shoulders, thick sturdy legs, and feet and hands that are worn rough by the many hours spent each day out in the training yard or the crop field. His hair is dark as night, though just starting to recede at the temples and widows peak. His facial features are all quite average and do not initially catch ones attention when scanning Archim. The one thing that always draws peoples attention is his eyes, flashing with a brilliance that belies the darkness of their hue, they seem to speak from the soul without the need to utter a sound.