NickSHiFTeRR_

Uglaak, being born to a very abusive and negative family of orcs, he was forced into manual labor both domestic and foreign. His early teenage years were especially the worst, since his mother died of execution for industrial espionage, when he was fourteen, and his father escaped their home island, Shudadskiir, because of a large bounty that they could not afford to die for, two days before his sixteenth birthday. Slowing down on the labor for the time to come, his older sibling, Ulaan, would teach Uglaak techniques in combat as well as survival and charisma. Though, these times just became more and more depressing and gloomy for Uglaak, since he continually missed his mother and father even more. Once Uglaak turned eighteen, this all would be let out. At dusk, he took thejagged stone axe that he trained with, and chopped his twenty-six year-old brother into bits and pieces, leaving him unidentifiable. As he was just about the only being in his bloodline left on Shudadskiir, he went on his own voyage. A bloody, messy, aggressive one. After several months of leaving his household, he gathered dozens of fellow orc men and a few women. He would take hisnew found crew on hundreds upon hundreds of raiding runs in villages, camps, towns, political and economic districts. Or so he thought. In a span of a few months, more than half of his militia woulddie of unexplained disease, hunger, thirst, and suicide. Being a non-believer of high-power as well as curses and spells, he started to re-think his hypothesis. With no other choice, he made a drastic decision without the consent of his crew to escape the shenanigans of raids and felonies of a criminal life, and go settle down once and for all with what they've obtained over years and years of "good deeds for the peace and balance of this wretched world" as they would say. They came across a different island, thousands of miles away from Shudadskiir. This island had a visible savanna, forest, and snow-capped mountains at the point of arrival. With the eight crew he had left, they hastily bunked down for the night, anchoring the galleon to the pier. After a few ales and story-telling, they all collapsed in bed. However, upon awakening, Uglaak found himself alone, and silent in his shared inn room. Looking out his window, thinking nothing of it, he gazed at the mesmerizing sunrise over the pier. Everything looked perfect- except something was missing in that view. Something... pertinent. His galleon. THE galleon - it was gone. No crew in sight, nor galleon. The pieces fit together better than a puzzle; his crew left him alone on this new found island, taking the galleon and everything it bared inside; food, water, tools, weapons. Years and years of conquering these populations, and it all came to this. Exiting this inn, a courier quickly gathered his attention, " Mr. uh... U... glaak? I have a letter for you from some sort of second-hand captain. Gotta move." Quickly realizing the relevance of this letter, he clawed it open with his jagged fingernails. The letter wrote in haste cursive," Enjoy your new life, CAPTAIN. Can't believe you didn't consult us on this new 'decision' of yours. Enjoy your vacation. Your vacation on... Atlas."

Uglaak, being born to a very abusive and negative family of orcs, he was forced into manual labor both domestic and foreign. His early teenage years were especially the worst, since his mother died of execution for industrial espionage, when he was fourteen, and his father escaped their home island, Shudadskiir, because of a large bounty that they could not afford to die for, two days before his sixteenth birthday. Slowing down on the labor for the time to come, his older sibling, Ulaan, would teach Uglaak techniques in combat as well as survival and charisma. Though, these times just became more and more depressing and gloomy for Uglaak, since he continually missed his mother and father even more. Once Uglaak turned eighteen, this all would be let out. At dusk, he took the jagged stone axe that he trained with, and chopped his twenty-six year-old brother into bits and pieces, leaving him unidentifiable. As he was just about the only being in his bloodline left on Shudadskiir, he went on his own voyage. A bloody, messy, aggressive one. After several months of leaving his household, he gathered dozens of fellow orc men and a few women. He would take his new found crew on hundreds upon hundreds of raiding runs in villages, camps, towns, political and economic districts. Or so he thought. In a span of a few months, more than half of his militia would die of unexplained disease, hunger, thirst, and suicide. Being a non-believer of high-power as well as curses and spells, he started to re-think his hypothesis. With no other choice, he made a drastic decision without the consent of his crew to escape the shenanigans of raids and felonies of a criminal life, and go settle down once and for all with what they've obtained over years and years of "good deeds for the peace and balance of this wretched world" as they would say. They came across a different island, thousands of miles away from Shudadskiir. This island had a visible savanna, forest, and snow-capped mountains at the point of arrival. With the eight crew he had left, they hastily bunked down for the night, anchoring the galleon to the pier. After a few ales and story-telling, they all collapsed in bed. However, upon awakening, Uglaak found himself alone, and silent in his shared inn room. Looking out his window, thinking nothing of it, he gazed at the mesmerizing sunrise over the pier. Everything looked perfect- except something was missing in that view. Something... pertinent. His galleon. THE galleon - it was gone. No crew in sight, nor galleon. The pieces fit together better than a puzzle; his crew left him alone on this new found island, taking the galleon and everything it bared inside; food, water, tools, weapons. Years and years of conquering these populations, and it all came to this. Exiting this inn, a courier quickly gathered his attention, " Mr. uh... U... glaak? I have a letter for you from some sort of second-hand captain. Gotta move." Quickly realizing the relevance of this letter, he clawed it open with his jagged fingernails. The letter wrote in haste cursive," Enjoy your new life, CAPTAIN. Can't believe you didn't consult us on this new 'decision' of yours. Enjoy your vacation. Your vacation on... Atlas."