Judge Nehro


Standing at six foot two and weighing in at 203 pounds, the man known as Nehro could easily be mistaken for an undead on first glance were it not for his heavily athletic physique and healthy features. Hair military short and blanched white with dull green/grey eyes make obvious signs of his exposure to large amounts of negative energy. Well known among his fellow judges for a sometimes frustrating level of meticulousness and measured method of approach to nearly everything he does, Nehro has earned a reputation for being both headstrong and single minded, especially when someone makes the mistake of denouncing Lord Strahd anywhere within earshot of him. Nehros’ judge uniform consists of black mithril armor with a matching face mask that covers the lower half of his face and a heavy leather cloak.


Born to a lower class family in the docks of Donton , Nehros’ parents and 3 younger brothers had little going for them aside from hard honest work and no shortage of work there of. However as the shift to undead labor began to rise, like many families like his own felt both the inital sting and fallout rather quick. His father Marcus was a common dock hand and his mother Clara a part time delivery girl for a few of the local produce shops, Nehro could usually be found trying to help his dad being the only child of age to even attempt the heavy labor. The downturn started when his youngest brother Garth caught what seemed to be a case of bone chill from helping their mom with deliveries. Youth wasn’t on anyone’s side as the bone chills wreaked havoc on both of them, killing them within the week.

Loss wasn’t something Nehro was used to, even at a early age he had a bad case of pride, the blow wasn’t softened either after his dads’ upbeat, jovial tendencies soon became chronic alcoholic ones. In a fit of anger at the pathetic state of his father, coupled with disdain at his brothers Thaerus and Kitava for their complete refusal to help or try to help out their dad, preferring to wallow in misery with him. The next year or so was nothing less than brutal for Nehro, his contempt for his families weakness gnawed away as he did whatever it took to survive the streets of Donton alone. From stealing from carts in the bazaar to outright killing other weaker homeless citizens over scraps, nothing was sacred if it let him live another day free of his families weakness.

A change of fortune happened one day in the bazaar when the kart Nehro was trying to nab an apple from just happened to be the kart an informant for the House of K was waiting at. Something about Nehro caught his eye, and rather than pointing out the young thief out, he followed and measured him over the course of a few weeks, not one to turn down a possible recruit. The informant, an elven man known by the name of Blackhand, stood short and lithe but profoundly confident in front of an unexpecting Nehro. Though wary of a man that could catch him offgaurd, Blackhands’ offer of a higher calling and influence in exchange for unflinching loyalty to a cause that sounded almost too fitting, despite Nehros’ most probing questions, convinced him to accept Blackhands terms of trial and initiation.

The next month was full of very specific tests; scout this house, infiltrate it it, steal these two baubbles in different parts of the house, and kill the yappy family dog while everyone is home, then get out unnoticed. Nehro passed every trial Blackhand could throw at him, yet despite that one glaring problem kept Blackhand praise at bay, Nehros’ ego. It had only gotten worse with age; though he was anything but boisterous, it was written in the satisfaction and glare of pride on his face with every victory, every meticulous kill.

He wouldn’t make a fully fledged member and Blackhand told him this, however he would still be supported and called on when the need arised, assuming he pass his initiation. Nehro swelled in anger at the lackluster review of his efforts, normally he would take it out in blood upon anyone that spoke that low of him, however Nehro had also been watching his benefactor during his trails, and something about Blackhand still made him constantly unsettled. Deciding to continue on, if nothing else it was free room and board for what he considered little to no effort, Nehro agreed to the initiation terms with no pause, despite it’s irony.

The aura of contempt blasted off Nehro like steam as he walked into his old home on the docks early in the morning to find the most disgusting sight he had ever seen. His father was still in the same position, drunk at the table, though holding a much nicer looking bottle of ale, his brothers both shuffling around the surprisingly clean house. What set Nehro off was seeing both his brothers shuffle past him, off to work as was pointed out by his father, except they were both missing large chunks of flesh and organs, zombies both of them, with property of the city tags branded on their exposed bones. The entire time Nehro stood motionless as they passed him, his father slurring something about doing what he had to to survive, none of it reached Nehros’ ears as the last thing he remembered was the painfull, sad moan coming from Kitava as they brushed past him out the door.

When Nehro came to, he was standing the exact same position he remembered, except his father was in countless pieces, blood covered nearly everything, his brothers bodies destroyed, and Blackhand calmly standing behind him at the now closed door. Nehro finally understood his judgement as Blackhand explained the terms of his employment under the House of K as an on call clean up man.

Enjoying the comforts and freedoms his employers offered, Nehro spent the next year becoming obsessed with his idea of “fixing” Don Ton, curing it of the waste like his father to spare the more innocent members of the city. These efforts, combined with cleaning up some very sticky messes left for him by the House of K, refined his abilities to avoid getting caught, though they didn’t prevent him from gaining a reputation, or at least some nameless figure that generally leaves no one alive and no discernible pattern for his targets.

Judge Nehro

Judged TheDreadedMoo