Born during a time of migration for his closest kin, within a temporarily-erected tent by Dutah, his father, and his fortunate lifemate Situg. A period of near-nothingness and extremely low standing, which was not corrected until a time later as his close kin, along with a remainder of others along with them, joined the Rexdom of Krugmar whilst Daglush was still very young. As with many other Orcs, he had an extremely harsh childhood, and with his younger sister and older brother train alongside him, he was left little time left over for training, and he had to make do with going off to spar with the other Orcs – For some, a lesson in the harsher realities of fighting with others his age, but having never received retraining or the like, his errors in combat set in stone then, and havent had time to change truly. He had many bloody engagements in his youth with other Orcs, and he was unruly even by Orcish standards. However, with time comes change, and eventually he manages to grasp the simple and straightforward rules that come with a society where the strongest rid themselves of the weakest.
He maintains a distrust of nearly all non-Orcs, and even most Goblins or Ologs; Frankly, to him, if it isn’t an Uruk like he and his closest kin, and it isn’t green, he has a natural disposition set somewhat against it, even if they’re an ally. This stems most closely from the stories he had been told as a child, pitting the Orcs against the other races, and his distrust of even subraces of Orcs comes from a memory that he finds hazy in his older years. He recalls a group of Goblins entering his and his close kin’s tent, and stealing valuables of one sort or another – In truth, he does not recall what they stole, the only thing still clear in his memory is the feeling of anger and resentment as they made their escape with what little he and his kin had.
Having grown older, he began to form a better picture of the events taking place around him. The War of the Two Emperors was raging, and it was more obvious to him than ever that there was a more pronounced chance of one or more of his close kin falling in this war, than he had previously realised. Then, tw0 years before the end of the war, he loses both Dutah and Situg in the Battle of Koengswald. They had been travelling with the Renatian army, and had overenthusiastically pressed themselves into a front line, leading to the pair being some of the first casualties in a battle which then later ends in a Renatian victory. By this time, however, he had grown old enough to fend for himself with little issue, although it took a definite toll on him to have lost them both as suddenly as they had gone. He needed to take his mind elsewhere, and he took it towards more frequent sparring with those willing around him, as well as an occupation, which would help satisfy his growing bloodlust, he realised he needed a more reliable outlet – A slavers life was for him, and after every raid or skirmish the warriors would go out to, he would aide in breaking the prisoners. In his mind, for most of his years and to this day, these words ring true – “Where there’s a whip, there’s a way.” More recently, however, he has found his bloodlust to be more more manageable, and looks towards a different path, with less constant outlet for rage, and perhaps a little more glory for the times that the bloodlust is sated.
