Born on a rock outcrop mere days after a bloody battle, of which I have no memory. Unsure of my place amidst the violence, I travelled far to ensure I would not be drawn in again, while starting life again as a common street urchin some 6 years ago.

I was born on a rock outcrop mere days after a bloody battle between orcs and humans, of which I have no memory. I awoke laying beneath a rocky outcropping, wrapped in a bedroll and tattered linens, behind the long-cold ashes of a small campfire. Through all the pain of various injuries, the dull pounding inside my head, and the swollen, tender flesh above spoke most regarding my current state-of-mind, or lack there of.




As I slowly stood and gazed out over the boulder sheltering the front of my little stone den, I was dumbfounded by what I saw. An open valley amidst the hills lay in front of me; the tall grasses and wildflowers ground into the churned earth amidst hundreds of corpses. Littered among the sprawl of orc and human remains lay the occasional dwarf or goblin and even a few war mounts used by human knights. From the gathering smell and flocks of ravens fighting over meaty spoils, it was clear I looked upon a battle only a few days past. Studying the site as I worked to clear my senses and take stock of my own condition, I decided it best to gather what I could and head home to.... umm, where? My home? My family and fellows... who?



This is the moment my life came smashing back into memory; a single name, Keth, amidst an otherwise blank landscape of memory. The silence of my nonexistent memories staggered me, surely as hard as the blow that brought me to this moment. I slid down, back against the cool stone, and began working to find something, anything, in the blank canvas of my mind. At some point, the far distant sound of hooves caught my ear quickening my pulse providing the sense of urgency to gather what I could and leave this place. I scurried to the back of the alcove and made to store the bedroll as tossed the ragged linen aside. There I discovered my second surprise; the one that still haunts me to this day. Behind the bedroll, tucked into a long fissure at the base of the overhang, lay tightly bundled a set of equipment, including weapons, and personal items; my equipment, my things?



I unwrapped this life saving gift and was quickly assured of its origin- the leather armor not only fit me well, it shared the same bloody wounds on my chest and leg that were, what?!? stitched and healing?. And there, in that moment, is where my new life began to take shape. My new life began with a debt I will likely never be able to repay, to someone I do not know. After donning my gear and repacking the available supplies I crept back to the boulder to quietly observe the seen in the valley in front of me. Ensuring there were no longer signs or sounds of movement beyond the feasting and fighting carrion birds, I headed out.



As I rounded the boulder I noticed for the first time the telltale smears of a light blood trail coming in from the valley floor to where I awoke. Confirmation that someone had in fact pulled me to shelter before tending to my wounds. Noting then the bloody smears atop a clear trail of crushed grass leading to my new birthplace, I quickly followed out into the valley and in short order found the scene that haunts me to this day. While there had been areas showing signs of pitched fights within the battle, with blood and corpses concentrated in these pockets, before me was the first I had seen of my own kind, half-orcs. All together here, in this one area, amid the usual concentrations of dead orcs and humans.



I counted 8 of 'my own' amidst this collection. And 'my own' they were, a few wearing leather armor similar to my own and even a pair felled while wielding halberds twins to the one strapped to my back. But there was no recognition to be had; even with the faces of what may have even been my own kin. Seeking answers, I searched the remains for anything that might tell me more or restore my memories. But nothing was to be had, except a few more linens and even a pennant of the design I recognized from the near destroyed cloth that had wrapped me as I slept. Knowing this to be the only connection to my forgotten past, I took the blood-soaked pennant, folding it carefully and storing it, safely hidden, in my pack.



With no actual memories or feelings of kinship to these abandoned souls, but a clear link nonetheless, I gathered the monies, valuables and personal trinkets from there pouches and packs. Most would be bartered and spent over the next few months as I made my journey beyond this place. Unsure of my place amidst the violence, I knew enough even at that young age, to prevent me from approaching the holds of either race lest I be taken and tortured to death for knowledge I simply no longer have. It was clear the orcs and their allies had driven the humans from that place of battle, regardless I could expect to be welcomed by one race as an enemy and other as a spy or a traitorous coward.



I travelled far thanks to the valuables left by my unnamed kin until I found myself in _________, broke, unrecognized and back to living a street life amidst the other disregarded and outcast urchins even as a newly arrived teen sporting scars of a battle I can't remember. I often find it curious that my thoughts on my life now begin with 'back to living on the streets'. It is the closest I have to knowing my life before. Now, 8 years later, I am out in the open, building a reputation on my own skills and abilities. Although it is sometimes only grudgingly given, the acceptance shown by the peoples of this land has allowed me to continue on my path, in search of wealth, status and the long missing camaraderie of true kinship with those worthy of my trust.

Age

23

Date of Birth

Unknown

Gender

Male

Eyes

Black

Hair

White mohawk, goatie

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Pale, ashen blue

Height

6' 4"

Weight

245