Ms_Lo_ssier

Murag never knew who his parents were, he has zero memories of his mother nor his father; not their face or the nostalgic scent of a mother. He has no idea what their names were or if they are even alive. The only thing he can clearly remember is the arid air and the scorching heat on his newborn features. All he knows is that he was taken away at infancy by the orc he knows as Krothu, a whitewash orc. Krothu is the only orc he has ever come to know and shall always be. Murag has never wondered who his parents were, nor has he ever asked, it was just something he never bothered to question. He only knows what Krothu has told him, "I took you away because I cannot have children, I am clanless and mateless. I needed a legacy, so I took you away from a life that would have been filled with suffering and void of meaning." He was told this at the age of 8, and was only told once, he never questioned it and he was fine with that. 

Krothu taught him everything he knows, from hunting to combat to tracking, but there is one thing he learned that he must never forget.  Never stay in one location for more than one moon cycle. He learned the hard way that association with whitewashes was a no go in orc society, absolutely no excuses. So, it didn't really matter if he was taken at a young age against his will, he was with a whitewash, so he was no better one. 

It happened on a cold evening, the air was stagnant and pricked at his lungs, there were no scents carried by the wind that night. He could guess that was how the group of 6 orcs went completely unnoticed. They growled and grunted in disgust as they dragged Murag out of his cot, and snarled insults at Krothu as they fought. That cool evening turned into a sweltering red night, the heat radiated off their bodies, warmed from rage and bloodlust, blood spewed everywhere, onto the ground and trees. Murag fought and fought through the confusion, but alas he was not as experienced as his assaulters and was heavily outnumbered. Krothu's roars and grunts could be heard, mixed with the snarls of the attackers, and from that alone he could tell he was losing the battle. Beaten and bloodied they left Murag's cold body on the ground, his eyes too swollen to see; only from the sound of faint breathing was he able to determine that Krothu was still alive. The orcs had left them for the crows, assuming that they had not much longer to survive. 

Blinding white light flooded Murag's vision, he had awoken to an afternoon sun blazing down on his skin. Which was oddly bandaged and nearly healed. It would be later discovered that Krothu has survived the beating, though he wouldn't say how, and he had nursed Murag to near full health. It was then that Murag had learned to never stay in one place for too long, and that he should never trust other orcs.

Through the years Murag and Krothu have traveled, abiding by this rule, and on the eighteenth year of Murag's life, Krothu had decided that it was time for Murag to go off on his own. Throughout their travels Krothu had told tidbits of orc history and brief explanations of their origins. Slight mentions of the Great War, how it began with the orcs and dwarves battling, how the Rex and his allies marched into the capital of Urguan. He rarely ever paid attention to those stories, he always felt it was more appropriate to focus on the present rather than the past. Murag is mostly illiterate of “the blah”, he only knows few phrases, which he would hear occasionally from Krothu. In terms of religion, Murag never felt close to the spirits, nor has he ever felt comforted by the idea of them, he had never seen the spirits and chose to only believe in what he sees; if these spirits truly made up the world, how come he has never seen one or heard from one? One piece of history that always stuck out to Murag was the curse of Iblees, the orc race forever cursed with an unending bloodlust. This always made Murag feel better about himself whenever his urges surged, that his bloodlust was something he was born with, cursed with, not a result or reflection of his character.

For a decade Murag has traveled Almaris, avoided the orc clans and any orc he crosses paths with. His nomadic lifestyle has carved him into a silent loner with trust issues, completely devoid of the culture and traditions of his people. He continues to wander the lands in search, not knowing what he seeks, but remains free.

(More details)

-Murag has never seen Krothu after he had left him, he has no idea if he is still alive, but he does worry at times; after all, he is the closest thing he has to a father.

-Murag bathes obesessively because he can sometimes still feel blood caked all over his body; if he is unable to clean himself he will begin to claw at his skin.

-Murag completely avoids orcs at all costs, but he has no problem with elves or humans, even though he remains grouchy and preferably silent.

-He makes a living out of doing odd jobs like being a guard or helping farmers or traders, sometimes he trades animal pelts or herbs when he's in need of some money.