07-30-2006, 09:12 PM
Ugla Deud
Half-Orc Ranger
When you think of a half-orc you think of a big brute with the IQ of a soapdish. Ugla, however, is not your average thug. He will win no prizes for his intelligence true, but he can at least read and write. Hell, he has even plotted out a strategy or two! His build is more of a muscled human than a tall orc like some of his race. His skin, a light rusty brown, helps him blend into the forest scenery he inhabits as well as the barrooms he now frequents. He has always hated the matted black tangle that is his orcish hair, so he keeps it shaved to the skin.
Society as a whole disgusts him. He was raised by his mother, a human, on a small backwater village without ever knowing his orcish father. As the usual tale goes, he was mistreated by the other humans. Ranging from outright fear or disgust to hatred and contempt rabble?s reaction to him made his life was a living hell everywhere except in the confines of his household with his loving mother. But even that could not last. A small frail woman, his mother took ill just before he hit his teens. Without her to work there was no money for a doctor or priest. Obviously no one would hire a Half-Orc. He might eat one of the customers or break the farm equipment after all. She died, leaving him without solace. Home was no longer a sanctuary, it was just a place to sleep and wake up for the next round of torture. Was it his fault he had to steal to eat? They looked down on him for theft when they were the ones refusing to let him work for his survival. Eventually the hypocrisy became to much. He fled the town forever.
A thirteen year old half-orc in the forests? Unarmed? It was difficult. Injuries were a constant threat, him always being small and thin for his race. But he was strong, if not hardy, and had a cunning mind for basic strategy. Eventually he found that a nice strong toss of the stone would knock out a deer without ever having to risk getting impaled. The first few years were still rough of course, until he came upon a pack of orcs. For the first time he wondered if it was just the human race that despised him. Maybe he had found a home?
If the humans? intolerance was bad the orcs were worse. From the moment he walked into the camp he was the greatest joke in the place. Punching him in the gut and watching the half-human double over was hilarious indeed. But nearly a year in the wilderness had given him the will to survive, and the will to do more than run. A month later he was gone, but left behind two dead orcs with arrows in their throats. One missing a hand axe, the other a longbow.
Two years passed without civilized contact beyond watching passer-bys from the brush, two years of loneliness. His endless travel brought him to the city gates of Alderan. His curiosity got the better of him, though he had lost any hope of being accepted long ago, so he walked in. To his amazement there were creatures of every kind there! Half-orcs, half-elves, men, gnomes? it was a complete 360 from the barbarian lands he had once called home. For the fist time he was just another face in the crowd. Racism existed still, but there were those who would talk to him, could share with his experiences. Even elves would talk to a half-orc as an equal if they are hammered enough. And there were women. Women who for the right price could make him forget all his troubles and make him feel loved once again. He could not call this city home, but it was a nice diversion from the forests, and perhaps his first step in finding the one place he could belong.
Half-Orc Ranger
When you think of a half-orc you think of a big brute with the IQ of a soapdish. Ugla, however, is not your average thug. He will win no prizes for his intelligence true, but he can at least read and write. Hell, he has even plotted out a strategy or two! His build is more of a muscled human than a tall orc like some of his race. His skin, a light rusty brown, helps him blend into the forest scenery he inhabits as well as the barrooms he now frequents. He has always hated the matted black tangle that is his orcish hair, so he keeps it shaved to the skin.
Society as a whole disgusts him. He was raised by his mother, a human, on a small backwater village without ever knowing his orcish father. As the usual tale goes, he was mistreated by the other humans. Ranging from outright fear or disgust to hatred and contempt rabble?s reaction to him made his life was a living hell everywhere except in the confines of his household with his loving mother. But even that could not last. A small frail woman, his mother took ill just before he hit his teens. Without her to work there was no money for a doctor or priest. Obviously no one would hire a Half-Orc. He might eat one of the customers or break the farm equipment after all. She died, leaving him without solace. Home was no longer a sanctuary, it was just a place to sleep and wake up for the next round of torture. Was it his fault he had to steal to eat? They looked down on him for theft when they were the ones refusing to let him work for his survival. Eventually the hypocrisy became to much. He fled the town forever.
A thirteen year old half-orc in the forests? Unarmed? It was difficult. Injuries were a constant threat, him always being small and thin for his race. But he was strong, if not hardy, and had a cunning mind for basic strategy. Eventually he found that a nice strong toss of the stone would knock out a deer without ever having to risk getting impaled. The first few years were still rough of course, until he came upon a pack of orcs. For the first time he wondered if it was just the human race that despised him. Maybe he had found a home?
If the humans? intolerance was bad the orcs were worse. From the moment he walked into the camp he was the greatest joke in the place. Punching him in the gut and watching the half-human double over was hilarious indeed. But nearly a year in the wilderness had given him the will to survive, and the will to do more than run. A month later he was gone, but left behind two dead orcs with arrows in their throats. One missing a hand axe, the other a longbow.
Two years passed without civilized contact beyond watching passer-bys from the brush, two years of loneliness. His endless travel brought him to the city gates of Alderan. His curiosity got the better of him, though he had lost any hope of being accepted long ago, so he walked in. To his amazement there were creatures of every kind there! Half-orcs, half-elves, men, gnomes? it was a complete 360 from the barbarian lands he had once called home. For the fist time he was just another face in the crowd. Racism existed still, but there were those who would talk to him, could share with his experiences. Even elves would talk to a half-orc as an equal if they are hammered enough. And there were women. Women who for the right price could make him forget all his troubles and make him feel loved once again. He could not call this city home, but it was a nice diversion from the forests, and perhaps his first step in finding the one place he could belong.
![[Image: v4339d.png]](http://i42.tinypic.com/v4339d.png)
When in doubt: It was sarcasm.