Current Characters

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Character Name ~ Kor Urgthrok
Nicknames: Kor of the low (formerly known as Krakhorn)
Age: 100+
Gender: Male
Race: Uruk
Status: Inactive

Description
Height: 8ft 7'
Weight: 300lbs+
Body Type: Large, broad, muscular
Eyes: Pale blue
Hair: Shaved
Skin: Pale, sickly looking green
Markings/Tattoos: Countless scars over his body, one has resulted in the removal of his left eye
Health: Healthy
Personality: Old school, Kor believes in the old ways of urukish society and is very close minded to new beginnings. He loaths the what the orcs have become, knowing that his people are weakened.
Inventory: An old, blood covered scimitar and a bone club covered in spikes, named 'Lucille'
Further Details: Walks with a slight limp/hobble after having his knee broken as a cub.

Life Style
Alignment*: Chaotic Evil
Deity*: Krug
Religion: That of the Orcs
Alliance/Nation/Home: The War Nation
Job/Class: Nomad/Marauder 
Title(s): None
Profession(s): Warrior
Special Skill(s): Lethal in hand to hand combat, exceptionally skilled warrior
Flaw(s): Not agile, impaired vision

Weaponry
Fighting Style: Grounded brute force
Trained Weapon[s]: Blade (Sword, knife, scimitar), club, spear, mace, hammer, crossbow
Favored Weapon: His club
Archery: Crossbow, adequate, bow and arrow, nay.

Biography
Parents: Krakhorn-father (Deceased), Grosha-mother (Deceased)
Siblings: Golbon-brother (Deceased), Negrak-brother (Deceased) Drog-brother (Unknown)
Children: N/A
Extended Family: N/A
Pet(s): Tundaztep-Warboar

 

History

 

Born amidst sand and dust, it is said Kor crawled out of his mother womb rather than being pulled out. He was a large baby cub, his pale blue eyes pierced who ever he gazed at. His cries echoed, sounding more like yelps of anger. Kor was the oldest of the four Urgthrok brothers, born to Krakhorn and Grosha. Grosha died in child birth to his youngest brother, Drog. Kor grew up quick, and soon became lethal in hand to hand combat. His father Krakhorn,was missing an arm. It had been taken by a Scaddernakk. The loss of his arm had made Krakhorn angry. Kor was in his mid twenties now, a fierce and well respected warrior. His younger brothers in their late, mid, and early teens. Krakhorn gathered his sons and they went on the hunt. Each armed with a spear, they would not return home for some time.

 

Kor moved up front of the hunting party, spear in hand. He already stood well over 8ft tall, and numerous scars already graced his body.

 

"Come on, we draw close to the sand." Kor said, half looking back over his shoulder. The brush had an eery stillness to it, and it was quiet, silent. As the party left the shrubbery, they immediately felt the sands shift. It was an awkward feeling, but a signal they had found the right location. The patriarch of the group, Krakhorn moved in front of his eldest, holding his index finger over his mangled jaw. 

 

"We move silently untill we hit the dune. Do not speak, do not make noise." The orcs crept slowly through the sands, making their way up a sand dune to get their bearings on the landscape. Krakhorn looked to his second youngest child, Negrak. "Go forth and scout for the Scaddernakk. Report if you see the sands shift." Negrak began to head off but his father stopped "Negrak, good luck." It was clear Krakhorn feared for his sons. Kor was busy paying attention to a less organic danger.

 

"Theres a sandstorm coming father. It'll arrive before nightfall." Krakhorn grunted, driving the spear into the sand so it would stand upright.

 

"We best be quick then my son." The two exchanged nods, and Kor walked over to Drog, patting him on the head before looking into the opposite direction. Silence, for several hours. The storm was close. Suddenly, a roar screeched across the desert. It was not the roar of an orc. Kor already had began running, his brothers and father following him. They scaled two sand dunes, to which they saw Negrak's leg caught in a small hill of sand. Blood poured from his leg, and Negrak snarled in pain. Kor sprung down the dune to his brother. The hill of sand shifted, and rose. The sand fell off, revealing a thick, black hide sprawled over a massive beast. The Scaddernakk. It had caught Negraks leg. The young orcs leg was broken, and the Scaddernakk reeled, and landed on Negrak, crushing him dead. Kor roared for his brother, throwing his spear and the Scaddernakks body. The beasts thick hide deflected the attempt, and only angered it. Kor charged the great beast as his father called him back. Kor would not listen. He flung himself shoulders first into the Scaddernakk, trying to daze it and get a foothold. The Scaddernakk easily over powered him, tossing him across the sand. Krakhorn lowered his body, and moved slowy, breathing slowly. His spear was ready to be thrown. He saw an opening, a killshot. Drog charged in, throwing off his fathers aim. He speared the distracted Scaddernakk in its underbelly, which drove the beast to madness in anger. The Scaddernakk reeled once more, preparing to kill Drog, when Krakhorn tackled him out of the way and was caught instead. The vicious creature caught Krakhorn in its mouth and began tearing into him. Drog could do nothing but watch. Kor witnessed this, just as the sandstorm reached the scenario. Kor blacked out.

 

When he woke, he struggled to get to his feet. Kor brushed sand off him, looking around. Nothing but piles of sand. He walked over to two mounds side by side. He uncovered the body of his father, split in half by the Scaddernakk. He did the same for Golbon and Negrak, but he could not find Drog.

 

"DROG!" Kor called out. "DROG!" he called out again. No answer. Kor brushed his hands over his bald head, had the Scaddernakk taken his family? He saw the largest mount. It took until nightfall, but Kor uncovered the Scaddernakk. It had died from a mixture of the wounds and the sandstorm. Kor was angry. He wouldnt be able to avenge his family. With his hunting knife, he carved open the beast, bathing himself in its blood. He looked himself over and noticed some fresh scars on his body aswell. Kor noticed a large bone sticking out of the beasts body. He carved it out. It was as long as a longsword. He looked it over.

 

"Lucille." Kor named the bone after the noise the Scaddernakk made when it roared. (LOO-SEAL). Lucille would later have spikes indented into it and would become Kor's war club and weapon of choice. Kor returned to his fathers corpse. He crouched next to him, sighing.

 

"I will take your name untill I reunite with my kin father, so that all pinkskins may know your legend. From this day, to the day I return to the orcs, I am Krakhorn, and Kor no longer."

 

Many years later, The ground was rough and worn, a already ageing path of gravel, it was coarse under the boars feet. It trotted down no road in particular, before its reigns were pulled and it was brought to a sudden stop. The boar snorted. Its master dismounted. A pale sickly green coloured orc, over 8ft tall dismounted his beast. He was covered in scars all over his body, long a deep. The orc had an evil sense to him, it hung over him like a cloud prepped to pour rain. Grunting, he opened the bag attached to the saddle on the boar, pulling out a long brutal looking scimitar, with lines carved into the hilt. A tally. The orc then pulled out his bone club, long and wide. Metal spikes were stabbed into it, jabbing out in all directions to make the piece of the skeletal system a lethal weapon. Lucille. Wielding the scimitar in his left hand and the club in his right, the monstrous orc approached his destination and reason for stopping, a small inn, or maybe it was a tavern. Regardless, with a vicious snarl, the orc approached the establishment, hell bent on one thing. He kicked the doors open, snarling again, baring his large yellowy tusks.

 

Covered in blood and two fresh new scars, with three severed heads attached to his belt by the victims hair, he marched back to his boar, it was a reddish brown with almost as many scars as its master. An ugly beast. The orc put his weapons back in the bag, but left the heads on his belt to send a message. He paused a brief moment, sniffing the air. His boar did the same. With a whistle, the orc ordered his boar in a certain direction and they rode off. Half a day passed. Arriving at the sands, the orc rode in slow. He found a secluded spot, and dismounted, making his own personal makeshift camp for the time being. The orc looked to his spiked bone club, 'Lucille' and sighed. 

 

"I am Kor, and Krakhorn no longer."

 

Artwork

 

 

Theme

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEFfaFGQhYw

[D A N N Y 966]

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