sevenseasbee
Hollows Explorer
Name:Krogen MalAge:32
Gender:Male
Race:Mountain Orc
Height:7 feet 10 inches
Weight:386 lbs
Hair:black
Eyes:red
Skin:dark green
Identifying Marks:scar over left eye
Strengths:skilled tactition and combat prowess, hulking frame allow for better damage control
Weaknesses and fears:magic, fear of failing allies, alcohol, and demons
Religion and cults:Orc God Blaksithe - lord of fire and rebirth
Profession:Timbervale Captain of the Guard
2nd son of Chief Sorl Mal, of the Blaksithe clan, nestled on the foothills of the mountain of fire known as Blak Spire, where our renound god resides. Entitled to nothing but combat, and was trained at an early age for this purpose...
10 long years have passed since I have seen my kin, my brothers in arms. It was 6 months before this that we were finishing a deep alter to Blaksithe. Uknowingly digging too deep below our mountain. With the last push of pick we opened a cavern of darkness unlike any we have seen. From inside poured abominations as strong as Orc and as cunning as Man. 6 months of day and night, we fought this scourge. Our numbers dwindling from a mighty 50 to 40 to 30...
But alas too great there numbers. On our final days our high priestess prayed to Blacksithe for help, and he answered. Dissapointed with his Orcian followers, he cast his powerful flame and obsidian high into the air swallowing my lands, my enemies, my kin. I too was to be swallowed by his mighty flame, out hunting for precious meats to keep our fight strong, I managed to evade the worst of the blast, but still succumed to the ash and flame.
As I lay on the charred lands swallowing deep for my last breaths, a Dwarf, as I later came to know him as Hermious, stumbled upon me, and taking pity on me, bandaged my wounds and hauled me to a keep known as Yggsmere. I lay unconcious for weeks, and weeks further before I gained enough strength to walk on my own , The other Dwarf afraid of my appearence and lumbering frame ridiculed and berated me. But I stayed, helping the old fool who rescued me. He tought me to read and write, to build as the dwarf do. When my strength returned I started helping him mine. But alas, this too was to pass. The darkness that had claimed so many of my village found theres.
As before, I took up axe. Slaughtering 10 demon for every dwarven warrior kill. The dwarf seeing my ferosity in battle came to calling me "Gunden", the green death. My new comrades and I battled as I had before with my kin, day and night, seasons rolled past, but still we fought, three winters we had seen before we we're able to push the darkness back. Our victory cost dearly however, as the city was all but lost. and without purpose I turned to ale. My new comrades being the victim of many a drunken Orcian rage, I once again became feared and now hated. Even turning on Hermious.
Finally I realized my mistake, too late however as I stood over a shriveled husk of a barkeep. His only crime was denying me the ale that tortured them to give me. I lay there in his sobering presence when the guards arrived. The day of my trial, the Lord of the keep gave me the gift of life, only due to my status in there long battles. but not without consequence, I was exciled. From his lands, I walked 4 years now only with axe in hand, still searching for purpose. but with a new vow to honor my comrade, Hermious, and to restore honor to my clan. As I walk through this Portal, to the place you call Exodus, I sense my purpose is close at hand.
My Bone and Blood to Blaksithe
Gender:Male
Race:Mountain Orc
Height:7 feet 10 inches
Weight:386 lbs
Hair:black
Eyes:red
Skin:dark green
Identifying Marks:scar over left eye
Strengths:skilled tactition and combat prowess, hulking frame allow for better damage control
Weaknesses and fears:magic, fear of failing allies, alcohol, and demons
Religion and cults:Orc God Blaksithe - lord of fire and rebirth
Profession:Timbervale Captain of the Guard
2nd son of Chief Sorl Mal, of the Blaksithe clan, nestled on the foothills of the mountain of fire known as Blak Spire, where our renound god resides. Entitled to nothing but combat, and was trained at an early age for this purpose...
10 long years have passed since I have seen my kin, my brothers in arms. It was 6 months before this that we were finishing a deep alter to Blaksithe. Uknowingly digging too deep below our mountain. With the last push of pick we opened a cavern of darkness unlike any we have seen. From inside poured abominations as strong as Orc and as cunning as Man. 6 months of day and night, we fought this scourge. Our numbers dwindling from a mighty 50 to 40 to 30...
But alas too great there numbers. On our final days our high priestess prayed to Blacksithe for help, and he answered. Dissapointed with his Orcian followers, he cast his powerful flame and obsidian high into the air swallowing my lands, my enemies, my kin. I too was to be swallowed by his mighty flame, out hunting for precious meats to keep our fight strong, I managed to evade the worst of the blast, but still succumed to the ash and flame.
As I lay on the charred lands swallowing deep for my last breaths, a Dwarf, as I later came to know him as Hermious, stumbled upon me, and taking pity on me, bandaged my wounds and hauled me to a keep known as Yggsmere. I lay unconcious for weeks, and weeks further before I gained enough strength to walk on my own , The other Dwarf afraid of my appearence and lumbering frame ridiculed and berated me. But I stayed, helping the old fool who rescued me. He tought me to read and write, to build as the dwarf do. When my strength returned I started helping him mine. But alas, this too was to pass. The darkness that had claimed so many of my village found theres.
As before, I took up axe. Slaughtering 10 demon for every dwarven warrior kill. The dwarf seeing my ferosity in battle came to calling me "Gunden", the green death. My new comrades and I battled as I had before with my kin, day and night, seasons rolled past, but still we fought, three winters we had seen before we we're able to push the darkness back. Our victory cost dearly however, as the city was all but lost. and without purpose I turned to ale. My new comrades being the victim of many a drunken Orcian rage, I once again became feared and now hated. Even turning on Hermious.
Finally I realized my mistake, too late however as I stood over a shriveled husk of a barkeep. His only crime was denying me the ale that tortured them to give me. I lay there in his sobering presence when the guards arrived. The day of my trial, the Lord of the keep gave me the gift of life, only due to my status in there long battles. but not without consequence, I was exciled. From his lands, I walked 4 years now only with axe in hand, still searching for purpose. but with a new vow to honor my comrade, Hermious, and to restore honor to my clan. As I walk through this Portal, to the place you call Exodus, I sense my purpose is close at hand.
My Bone and Blood to Blaksithe