I was raised in a cabin on the outskirts of a small town called Thra. I was the only child they had, and we all loved each other. Then an orc raid happened during the Nordling War, because the humans were at their weakest. They destroyed my town and made a camp in the ruins. They captured everyone and turned them into slaves. They found our house, and my father tried to fight back, but was killed for not being cooperative. Me and my mother were taken to work at an orc work camp. I was only eight at the time, but a young slave is still a useful slave. There were numerous people who attempted escapes and tried to resist. The people who did, however, were used as fuel for fires for the orcs. After spending two years of agonizing labor, the camp was siezed by a troop of soldiers from Norland. Many of the orcs were driven away, but those who chose to fight were slaughtered. My mother was used as a hostage so that one orc could keep his life, but she died in the crossfire. The remaining slaves were left to survive on their own. My only goal is to find another place to call home.