An Age Unbegun: Not Men, but Wolves
Once-Proud Warrior, Wasting Away
When last seen, this dark elf was near death. His eyes were sunken, glassy pits. His skin was dry. His features were gaunt, and his limbs were weak and frail. Holding his head high to make eye contact was a challenge. While his voice was a weak rasp, his words, however, were still sharp.
Antorzar was once a proud warrior of the House of Forgotten Ways. He was always gifted with incredible prowess, and beyond that, was taught under the best knife fighters in his House… and that was before he turned to ancient and perilous forms of alchemy. Eventually, the various potions and poultices that he used to give him an edge became such a part of him that he needed them to sustain himself. As became evident in the week he was forced to go without while being held captive by the Black Brand.
Which, hey, about that? It was all just a misunderstanding. He and his companions were still working on taking out the orcs… they were just also working on trying to talk the orcs into taking out the lizard men, just like they had talked the orcs into taking out the dwarves, and just like they might have talked the orcs into taking out the kobolds because, hey, why not, that would be funny, am I right? There’s no way they were ever going to try and talk the orcs into raiding Bulga Keep head on.
Antorzar was freed during the chaos that ensued in the Library. While most of his gear had been picked over already, the charred wreckage of one of the Saved seems to indicate that he at least managed to find some of it.