Untamed`s PCs

Bruul Orc-render
Half-orc Barbarian

History:

I am Bruul, son of Chieftan Thramok, born of a human mother and an Orc father under the light of the full moon on the warmest month of the year.

I am pain, sorrow, violation and shame.

I am Rage.

Called Orc-render by those whom once tormented me, I slay the half of me that sired the rage that drives me. Called untamable by those who birthed me upon this world, I feel nothing but contempt for those who showed me nothing but scorn. Caught between two worlds, I roam among all in defiance of their words and deeds that once kept me as a slave.

I am called barbarian by those who don’t know me. Let them, for my anger cannot be caged.

I have counted eighteen winters, and told I was alive seven winters before that, since I was born into slavery. My mother told me the story of my birth – a shameful deed endured by a human slave captured during a raid. Once a proud noblewoman of a town that was razed to the ground, she was taken when the rest of her party was slain. Forced to endure the pleasures of the orc chieftan, or forfeit her life, she birthed me amid darkness, crying out in pain and cursing her decision to live. Swaddling the bastard half breed, my skin a greenish-tan and my face a feral beast, she swore to kill me before the next full moon. She soon learned I was all she had amid a camp of brutish orcs bent upon her suffering. A baby was something she could control, when nothing else in her life belonged to her.

Shortly after my third month, she became desperate. Although the orc chieftan kept her alive, more out of his desire for her than mothering me, we fled into the night in a single act of desperation. Throwing her life to the fates, she silently prayed to the gods, and stumbled away from the orc encampment after another successful raid. Drunk on the stores of wine they took, the orcs did not notice my mother and I slip into the rainy night, fleeing headlong into the forested foothills, and back to her family. I do not remember this of course, but I am told it took her several days on foot. And near death from exhaustion, she was found by a patrol of soldiers and brought back to town.

Although she was ashamed of me and the year she spent as a slave, she was accepted by her family once again, and I was raised amid humans. Though kinder than orcs, I endured a different type of torment under their reproachful glares. My mixed blood was evident, though the priests tried very hard to work their prayers upon me, dulling the green tint of my skin until a darker olive mixed with the tan of being beneath the sun at all hours of the day. Coarse black hair hung in unruly locks down my back while dark eyes pierced out in contempt of my new “benefactors”. For while they clothed and fed me, and taught me the words in books, and tested my strength and endurance, I was as a beast to them, working to build or repair or decorate to make the town a prettier place. I lay upon a soft bed, in the house of my mother’s family, but I was no better than the horse or dog. The horse whose hooves I would shod in metal. The dog whose coat would be shorn in Spring. And I… my teeth, the obvious mark of my heritage, ground each year by an evil man who took sadistic glee in my pain, told to make me look more human. As if being human was something to strive for.

When I reached my seventeenth Winter I was taken from the workers and placed with the soldiers, to receive training in the arts of war. I was untrainable. For while the young humans took well to the ordered discipline of soldiery, and reveled in the feel of metal armor, I felt trapped as a bird. I learned to fight well, but after laying out more human young with my fists, and teaching more veteran soldiers the rage of my orc blood, I was returned to my family a failure. A failure! HA! I was strong of body and spirit, used to working long hours, and desperate to be let loose from the shackles of civilized society. Instead of becoming a soldier, I was turned out to the forests and fields around the town and taught the wilder things of life. Oh how I reveled in those days! My orc blood allowed me to see better than any human, while my dark skin helped hide me from sight. In the years leading up to this point I could pass for human at a distance, having bathed and ate and slept like humans. But the leathers and furs of the wild fit so much more than my body. My spirit felt free as well.

The townsfolk distrusted those few rangers who lived within the wild, so I spent my time with the huntsmen and foresters who would pass on their lore to me. There was no love lavished upon me in those times, only obedience by those who were ordered to train me. I could ignore the snide remarks and angry glares as I lost myself in those days outside of the towns walls. With such newfound knowledge and a knack for hunting, my family finally found a use for me.

My mixed heritage made it impossible to be married into another family, so I was hidden from sight instead, by running the forests as a scout for the soldiers on patrol. I loathed being human for the way I was raised. But I truly hated being orc, and wished to find the orcs that had ravaged my mother. Set upon this goal I was finally satisfied when our patrol encountered an orc raid. My rage found purpose, and my blood sang at the slaughter! Years of anguish and pain let lose in one single, brutal act of feral savagery. There was no beauty in my form, nor discipline in my act. The soldiers moved and fought as one, while I scampered about the battlefield, swinging tree branches and throwing rocks like a savage beast. We won the day, satisfied in our deed of blood, looking forward to the tales that would be told of bravery and strength.

But upon our return we learned a new horror. The orcs had lured the soldiers to the field, with a ruse of a raid, while the rest of the orc encampment marched on the town. With few soldiers behind to defend the newly painted walls, the town fell to torch and blade, killing all who dared run or crawl away. The songs of bravery died upon our lips as we watched in grief, wood and bone becoming ash in what used to be our homes. I recall little of what was said or done in the hours of our return, but I did not travel with the soldiers to the next town. I would not bring that tale of sorrow to others, as the remaining soldiers would pledge their loyalty to another. My leave was taken with little more than a look back at the weakness of humans, and how easily they slave themselves to another when their lives are changed.
Now I roam free, a force of nature unto myself. Not wholly human, nor truly orc. I am Bruul the Orc-render, untamable warrior of the wild. There is much in this world to see, and many more orc tribes to slay.

I will have my vengeance.

I will let loose my rage.

(100 xp when we go live.... umm remind me lol )