Appearance

Mentality

Personal history

I grew up in an orcish tribe far to the east. We were the Yagurs, or Hunters in common. We lived high in the mountains and would travel down to pillage human and elven villages. It was something of a pastime to us. We participated in the ritualistic worship of Gruumsh, with combat trials to weed out the weak from the tribe. Once I was old enough to participate, I proved myself to be a strong warrior.
As such, my childhood and young adult life were stained by blood. It didn’t really matter whose it was, as Gruumsh and the rest of my tribe would praise me all the same. Killing was our purpose, and we reveled in it.
There came a time when we got ambitious, though. We decided to go after a tribe of giants, hearing that they had great treasures. We geared up as usual, and by the time we sounded the horns it was too late to turn back. The giants tore many of us to shreds. I lost my right hand to one of them and fell to the ground. I thought someone might pick me up when the tribe’s forces retreated, but the only person I saw was my father as he spits on me. I was too weak to fight, barely strong enough to stand, and so I was no longer of value in his eyes. I remember seeing how much he hated me like he wanted me to melt into oblivion right then and there.
I awaited my death on the ground after that. It was a long time, and I lost feeling in much of my body. I remember the terrible smell of the other orc bodies lying beside me. What we used to call Batul, the sweet smell of blood, almost made me puke then. I closed my eyes.
The next I woke up, I was in a cave, surrounded by two fire giants. My stump had been wrapped in cloth, and they seemed amused that I had actually woken up. I felt thinner, and wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep. I couldn’t really communicate with them yet, so I couldn’t ask either. I just marveled at them as they continued to feed me and treat my amputated limb.
Eventually I learned to pick up some of their language. It’s intricate and strong, like Orc, but in a different way. I watched as they carved these beautiful runes into the walls of the cave, and onto their swords and armor. It was like pure simplicity. Once I was strong enough to start moving around again, I began to join them in their craft. They were master blacksmiths, creating beautiful works of art that adorned their halls, and which they carried into battle. They showed me many techniques, teaching me how to craft my own right hand again, back into a great weapon. A large axe that gleamed in the light of the forge, and on it carved their own rune for fire, Ild. I was proud to have my hand back again, and I found renewed strength in it.
But, even as this continued, I gained a sense that I was not really free there. I was still something of a prisoner to them, and I had no one to make true bonds with. These thoughts came from Gruumsh, who still spoke to me in my sleep. He told me that the enemy was never to be trusted. He told me that if I wanted to taste true victory, to smell Batul again like I had always known it, that I needed to kill one of them as a sign of strength.
I did it. I killed one of the giants in his sleep and ran off into the night, taking with me what little supplies I could carry from their stores. I headed back to the tribe, searching for the glory I used to have with them.
Once I returned, though, I faced my trial. When an orc leaves the tribe for any reason, they must face trial by combat to be allowed back in. I called for my chance, trying to prove my place among the Yagurs. My father stepped up to the challenge. His eyes were cold and angry, and he beat me down within an inch of my life. Once again I was on the brink of death, my father standing over me. He gave me the same look as before. The eyes that told me that I was worthless. They then banished me from the tribe, leaving me on my own with barely the clothes on my back.
I traveled slowly to the nearest piece of civilization, Cedar Lake. Those words sounded nicer to me now than any Orc phrase. I tried to hide my face and hand as I entered, but it was to no avail. Everyone shut their doors to me, and guards threatened to send me away at every turn. I was not to be trusted.
The only open door was in the nearby blacksmith. It was a subset of the Smith’s guild and a small establishment. I remember the first time the owner, Max, saw me. He was a dwarf on the shorter side, and much older than I. Instead of being afraid of me, he marveled at my right arm, offering me to come inside to take a closer look. I was practically speechless as he examined the axe, watching how it gleamed in the forge light as I had. Once I found the words to tell him that I had made it, he offered to make me an apprentice. I accepted, thinking back to the time I spent with the giants. I knew that this time I wanted it to be different.
I spent some years there, taking over the shop when Max retired and gaining my own apprentice, a young human boy who has this spice for life that never goes away, Leon. I loved them both dearly, and spent many years resisting Gruumsh's call. I became terrified to sleep sometimes, worried that his manipulation would get to me. But, before long, I heard the call for adventure.
Word came in that a band of orcs was seen about half a day’s travel away, camping out. There was no doubt that they were on their way here. I was terrified, but I knew that someone needed to stand with the guards. They were going to be demolished otherwise.
I donned a suit of armor, carved with the runes of the giants, and followed the guards into battle. At first, they questioned my presence, but I told them that I was on their side, showing them that I was wearing the crest of Cedar Lake on my shield, a small gold leaf on a blue background.
We made our own camp and waited until the morning for their advance. As time passed, I found myself becoming more and more scared. I hadn’t fought in a long time, and I knew that the orcs would be fierce. They would not hesitate to kill me or anyone besides me. As long as I wore this crest, they would know I was the enemy all the same. But, when I thought back to Leon and Max, who cared for me in ways I never thought possible, I knew that I must try for them and all the other people of Cedar Lake.
The morning came, and you could smell the stench of a coming battle in the air. This time I was not afraid, nor was I excited. I was merely ready to face my fate. The battle began, and I invoked the runes, growing in size, my skin becoming like stone. I felled over 20 orcs that day, and the rest retreated, but not without calling out the cries of Gruumsh.
I was suddenly reminded of the worm in my brain. He was still there, speaking to me, calling for me to kill, betray, and selfishly take as I pleased. As I sliced down my kind, the Batul pleased me once again. I felt myself become ravenous, and, as I looked back at my brothers in arms from Cedar Lake, I felt the urge to turn and kill them too. This time, I didn’t. I had resisted for so long, but I wanted his influence over me cut for good. Remembering what I had done to the giants after his manipulation, and worried that it was close to happening again, I decided I was no longer safe to stay with those I cared so much about until I had found a way to rid myself of Gruumsh for good. I packed my things, said my goodbyes for then, and set out looking for the cure to my orc-born affliction.

Personality

Social

Birthplace

The Yagur Tribe

Current Residence

Cedar Lake