Thraxx Valmaris was born to an elven noblewoman named Almeria, and an orcish guard captain named Vrogak.
Almeria was taken by the brazen confidence of Vrogak. His precise, almost mechanical method of violence and security had her smitten. Without a family or clan name, Vrogak happily took Almeria's noble title after reciprocating her
bold advances.
Thraxx spent his formative years in an upper-class district, mainly communing with other children of higher stature.
The shallow, elitist nature of his highborn peers caused him to emulate this distain of many around him, seeing himself above others. However, through one of the many lessons of his father, he learned that honesty and sincerity
are necesarry traits in any self-respecting man, no matter how high on the food chain you are. His parents opted for a hands-on approach to his development, where he would accompany his mother to minor political discussions and proceedings.
It was here where he discerned people's nature of deception, and how to navigate it. More people than he realized had an aptitude for lying, and he knew it was an important skill to recognize a silver tongue.
He would not accompany his father on patrols, nor would he be taken along for watch or garrison training. When at home, Vrogak would teach him combat. Swordplay, firearm (or crossbow) proficiency, and even reading an enemy's intent
were involved in the combat curriculum. Almost daily, Thraxx would be drilled in the art of violence. Although Thraxx poured heart and soul into his fathers' teachings, it was never enough for Vrogak. He wanted more from Thraxx.
Whether this was from Vrogak's desire to see his son rise above the rest before he succumbed to age, or a true dissapointment in his son's performance, Thraxx didn't know. And when he reached adulthood, Thraxx never got that chance.
Vrogak had taken his platoon on patrol and encountered an orcish raiding tribe, which they almost entirely slaughtered. Almost. They had recovered a few prisoners that they intended to try and execute, if not utilize for free labor.
Vrogak took one of these prisoners to the Valmaris Villa, behind the back of his wife. He armed him with nothing more than a dagger, and instructed Thraxx to fight this orc to the death. Seeing this as an opportunity
to earn his father's favour, Thraxx was almost ecstatic to end this prisoner's life. Precision, blood, hatred. That was everything Thraxx felt in that moment. If even for a second he could feel the respect only a father can give to his son,
Thraxx would die for it.
After a desparate battle, Thraxx had gored the prisoner through the chest. Despite this, the orc had enough strength to dig his nail into
Thraxx's left eye, completely tearing it out as he fell to the ground, dead.
The blood, the screams, the slowly drying eye severed from it's socket weren't enough to make his father flinch.
Vrogak's repulsed gaze was all he had to see for that feeling to develop within Thraxx. The foreboding sickness encroaching upon his mind. "Is this truly all that orcs value?
violence and destruction? Without the complete domination of your foes, are you truly worth nothing?" He couldn't understand it. Couldn't comprehend that despite the countless hours of training and study he put into warfare, there was
nothing that could be done to attain a glint of pride in his father's eyes. If only he were a true elf like his mother, removed from the beholdent nature of violence, he could truly attain something respectable, genuinely have admiration
poured upon him. The fact of his split heritage made him sick to his stomach. Regardless, there was a single medicine he fervently desired to quell that screaming resentment. Approval.
He would fight, maim, kill for that respect. There was nothing he wanted more.
If only he could've had it sooner. That same night he lost his eye, he awoke to the screaming. That same shrill pitch that wakes him from sleep constantly.
Thraxx rushed to his parent's room, rapier in hand, unflinching at whatever he wasn't prepared to see. But this wasn't in his realm of possability.
His mother shaking. blood on the sheets. The window ajar. Vrogak, gone.
"No."
He told himself this over and over, and still does to this day. Someone had kidnapped his father. Stolen the admiration and respect he would die for before he could earn it.
He would find his father. By any means necessary.