Out of the Rift
The sinister Master of Games.
Balinoc is ancient, even for an elf, his pallid skin a testament to his age. His fiery red eyes seem to appraise all they fall upon. His ornate black armor hangs loosely upon his emaciated frame, showing nearly as much age as his scarred face. He stands six feet, four inches tall, and carries himself with a disturbing grace that belies his age. Most disturbing of all however are his hands, which never seem to be still, his long, slender fingers writhing about as if possessed of their own will.
Balinoc has been the Master of Games for as long as anyone can remember. His keen eye for spotting the potential in slaves is nearly legendary, matched only by his natural showmanship. It is rumored that he once fought in the arena, centuries ago, and that he earned his freedom with a river of blood. Since that time he has overseen more blood sports, and trained more gladiators than any other servant of the Beast-Gods. His love of the arena seems second only to his devotion to the church. Beneath the genial exterior of a skilled showman lies the heart of a bloodthirsty sadist.