Cohen, just Cohen, is a beast of a man. He’s 190 cm tall (6′ 4′’) and weighs over 200 pounds and with arms, legs and torso that rivals most tvogs and taitvogs. His appearance is brutish and tips towards the ugly with slick brown hair, thick unwashed beard and dull brown eyes. Cohens hulking frame has mostly come from hard work in the fields and fighting, which he excels at.
His parents were bandits that terrorized the highway north from Alfatras capital Alfatri and they didn’t practice what one might call “hands-on” parenting. They left him mostly to his own devices and several other members of the bandits distrusted him and abused him until the day when Cohen finally erupted. In a fit of rage he beat up most the bandits before he could be subdued. That made the bandits dislike him even more and when, in a raid against a royal jor’dnaga caravan, both of Cohens parents died the bandits ran him of into the wilds to fend for himself.
Two years he spent in Vulnaskog, a large forest where most people stick to the roads, starving and scavanging and hunting for survival. At the age of 14 he met a mercenary band, Rødulvene (the Red Wolves), and joined up since the prospects of survival was much better with them. The mercenaries wasn’t blind to Cohens prowess and saw that he could take on men twice his age and size if Cohen was angry. He soon became a respected warrior and already as a 19 year old he became the leader of Rødulvene.
For 7 years he succesfully led the band and after a while the band imagined that they could assume political power through force and Cohen even dreamt of becoming a king. This all fell apart one fatefull afternoon. A lonely figure travelling north was their target. They attacked only to be humiliated. The traveler had magic powers no mercenary had encountered before and they were utterly unprepared. The magician tore them apart, turned the warrior on each other and turned them into all matters of creatures. Cohen barely escaped unharmed and the rest of the group scattered to the winds. Seeing that his ambitions was foiled by one man, Cohen decided to settle down as a farmer and hunter in a nearby village, Mekaran.
He tilled the earth for 5 more years, turning 31 the year he met the rest of the party. During this time he brooded and eventually devloped a grude and suspicion of all things not normal. He doesn’t like foreigners, strangers or weaklings. Silfs and tallofo are met with hostility due to, what Cohen describes as, their thieving, scheming and lying nature. Silfquipna and taitvog, squips in general, is also regarded suspiciously. Most of all: Cohen hates and fears magic. He’s superstitious and agressive towards any spellcaster and refers to Roxanne as a terrible witch. They don’t get along much.
Even though he’s not the brightest member of the party, he’s still quite knowlegeable and has an almost autistic approach to statistics. Nobody knows why, but numbers seem to work well with Cohen.
In the battlefield he is a monster. Utterly destroying his foes by ripping them apart with his bare hands or the large, almost unwieldy weapons he carries around. All the while others can’t seem to hurt him properly. He recognises and acknowledges talent when he sees it and works well with other warriors, like Katla, trusting their instincts and their strengths.