“. . And I remember, the lukewarm light of the fireplace intertwined with the crackling sounds of the fire in cacophony such which elevated the exerted sense of home, even therein, within the confines of wilderness. I had found myself in a world where all others shunned me.” -Keithro, when asked about his birth
Name: Keith’Ro
Age: Twenty-six
Class: Knightly barbarian
Race: Half-Orc offspring (Human + Orc)
”Beaten down, unparalleled protracted and projected agony. The gods? They make us dance to their cruel whim and desires. If there is anything godly in this world are the hearts of men who dare defy their reality. Gold is not the only thing that shines, gods are not the only creatures that are supposedly perfect. Mortals, too, can achieve greatness, if their blades carve the way and their hearts pull the strings.” – Keithro, about religion and faith.
Simply put, son to an orc father of a travelling caravan and a human mother of plebeian low-class origins, Keithro was at birth a malformed Quasimodo a child, left to fend for himself at the tender age of three out in the woods, due to his parents’ fear of repercussion from their deviant antics from of their respective social circles and cultures. Keithro, against all odds, strived, persevered, surviving and becoming the hardened wildling he has become. Now a traveller and a natural warrior Keithro seeks for but one thing in this world: Reason. Freedom. He is a man who has nothing and yet, due to his orcish blood and defiant soul, craves everything. Although a half-breed, the curse still runs strong through the veins of the quasi-orcish, bloodlust in unison with the strength of his kin oozes from within, sinking into every muscle, bone and thought of the wandering err of nature. Keithro, abandoned as a weak creature, as dictated by his father’s culture, seeker of the curse’s will in his own implement and perspective, bloodlust intoxicated with wanderlust. There it stood, the half-orc, gazing upon the lands beneath from atop such steep a hill. A grim displayed, slit through the scarred yet handsome visage, and a whisper now carried by the wind: “Let’s see what goes there.”
