Average build and unassuming, he has no remarkable features, save for an empty looking gaze that sends chills down even the hardiest of warriors. Beneath begger clothes he hides his tightly wound muscles, toned from years of training and ready to snap into action at a moments notice. He tends to dullen himself up most of the time, it makes it easier to get around un-noticed. Over the years Draikhen has studied the mannerisms of many different cultures and personalities and is able to mimic or impersonate different personas, from a noble of Tarantia, to a common farmer, he will sometimes take on the guise of another to gain information or even get into the inner circle of a target.
Draikhen's personality is a bit distant, he tends to not let people get too close to him. He stays rather guarded and distrusting to most people he meets and has a hard time establishing and keeping relationships that are actually meaningful, this is pretty common in men whom have dedicated themselves to the art of killing and since Draikhen spent the bulk of his life being trained to kill, manipulate, torture, and interrogate people it is understandable. He has a few people he would trust with his life, Calamus the former Chief of the Mercenary band known as the Skullsplitters and Duthos another member of that same band, they are likely the two people in all Hyboria Draikhen would have difficulty or regret if called on to kill one of them. Draikhen also tends to be a bit of a drifter, he never seems to stay in one place for very long and when he does choose to stay in one place he is barely noticeable, attempting to blend in with the surroundings as best he can.
Draikhen was born to a simple life, his father a farmer, his mother a seamstress. They had a modest homestead on the outskirts of a small community with the kingdom of Aquilonia. Draikhen spent the majority of his youth aiding his father in daily chores and the normal bore that comes with the life of a commoner, until one day.
It was late, and the night sky seemed darker than normal and not only was the sky much darker than normal, but the normal sounds of insects and birds was absent, instead just a cold chilling breeze could be heard. Draikhen cursed to himself for being so lazy and falling asleep on the river bank; hell, he didn't even catch any fish. By the darkness outside he knew he was in for a beating when he returned home and he grabbed his fishing gear and began hastily making his way home, it was so dark, and Draikhen felt uneasy about the absence of sound, but he continued heading toward his home nonetheless. As he made his way up the hill that over looked his family's home he began to hear noise, but not that noises that generally accompanied this time of night, no these noises were different, he heard the screams of his mother as a shadowed figure put the blade to her, and watched as his father was hamstrung left helpless to watch. Draikhen, in a fit of rage, began running toward his folks in a desperate and foolish attempt to save them. He made it only a few steps before he felt a huge impact to the side of his head, then nothing except more blackness.
He awoke an undetermined time later, this time just a small bead of light lit the cold stone floor, his vision was blurred and he had not quite yet adjusted to the darkness around him but he could make out a few shapes of other children, Draikhen began to sob, the loss of his family, not knowing where he was, it was all too much, the darkness and emptiness seemed to be too overwhelming. This however was the last time Draikhen would cry, for not only moments after he had broken down did a door spin open and a man quickly rush in forcefully shut the youth up. Draikhen and the others who were in the room were left there for days, only given the smallest amounts of food, each time one made even the slightest of noise, beatings were administered, in the end not all the children made it out alive, and those who died were left in the room to rot. The sounds as the rats had their way with the dead was at times overwhelming, but Draikhen had learned to be quiet, he had learned what he needed to do to survive. His assassin training had begun, and he didn't even understand as of yet.
Two weeks passed by, but for the four children left in the room it felt like an eternity a never ending nightmare. No one spoke, as time went on Draikhen began to loose any strength he had, he had begun to battle with his mind, questioning why he was there, what he had done to the gods to deserve such a fate, when he was going to die, how he was going to die. He felt himself slipping further away from wanting to live, but he couldn’t give in, he had this overwhelming sense of personal pride that wouldn’t let him quit. He thought perhaps one day soon he would find a way to escape, he quietly moved toward the tiny hole that let just the smallest amount of light into the room and tried to peer out. The light was as if a thousand tiny daggers had pierced his eyes and he had to turn away momentarily until he was once again adjusted to it.
He could see little, but what he did see briefly appeared to be other youths, only a small amount but they appeared to be his age, and from the sounds of it they were being lectured on combat of some sort. The winds were seemed to be blowing a bit too much however and the instructors words were muffled, Draikhen stayed a few moments longer trying to get a grasp on the outside world when he heard footsteps in the hallway that led to the room he and the others were in. He quickly moved back to his place and waited as the footsteps got closer and closer. A man opened the door and spoke “Get up” He howled, and the four youths pulled themselves upright as quickly as they could, the man then continued. “Congratulations” he said with a sneer “You four survived” The man let out a low chuckle “We shall see how many will survive the next phase, come with me” The man turned and the four youths followed him hesitantly down a long hallway. Draikhen took the lead, following the man just out of his reach.