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Ghethreh Skullcrusher - Backstory

Many years ago, Abravie found himself exploring deep in the forest at a distant mountain's foothills. The relative quiet of the forest unnerved him, as did the mountain looming a mere mile away. He thought he smelled fire on the breeze, but soon brushed it off.

'One more expedition' he told himself 'just one more, then I'll retire and enjoy the good life. It's hard enough getting taken seriously as a human in this line of work.'

"What's the matter, Abe?" the giant leading the party asked.

"I just smelled . . . never mind. It's probably nothing, Seroch" Abe replied.

Out of nowhere, a piercing war cry rang out from all directions and a horde at least forty orcs strong swarmed the party. Seroch froze and soon fell under a pile of five fully grown orcs. One of Abravie's companions snatched his sword out of self-preservation, but also fell within moments. Abravie took off alone and unarmed through the forest with three orcs in hot pursuit. He raced into a steep valley and rounded a few bends, yet the orcs continued the chase. To his dismay, a steep cliff loomed over him in all directions except the way he came. Dead end. The three male orcs blocked his exit, eyed him hungrily and let loose a resounding, roaring war cry in unison. With all he had, Abravie shouted "Come on!" and charged forth with fists raised.

When Wrukag and the rest of the orc raiding party rounded the bend, they found Abravie bloodied and barely standing over the three unconscious orcs. At the back of the largely male horde, a female orc wearing skins and a flowing, almost refined fur robe eyed him with interest.

Wrukag stepped towards Abravie with his club drawn and announced broadly "Last one's mine!"

From the back, the female orc objected "Wrukag, no! See how he fought! Keep him?"

Wrukag gave an annoyed sigh. He hated to admit it, but his cousin was right – this one would be helpful.

Begrudgingly, he agreed "Fine, Yazgash. You heal them, then keep him. Train him to raid."

Striding forwards with confidence, Yazgash obliged. She crept behind Abravie and brought the three fallen orcs back to consciousness. Still warily locking eyes with Wrukag, Abravie was unaware of Yazgash's fist until it struck the back of his head and he fell to the ground unconscious.

He awoke the following morning, fully restored and with Yazgash's hands over him in a cave about halfway up the mountain. The smell of fire burned stronger in his nostrils, and he noticed a whiff of lavender mixed in – Seroch had carried it for luck. He found himself unbound and started to get up, but Yazgash's hand on his chest forced him down. She lectured "No tricks. You stay with us, or you die. This tells them you're with us."

She motioned to a solid metal bracelet about an inch wide, welded solidly like a manacle around his left wrist. It bore a one-eyed rat insignia, and he guessed "A mark of Gruumsh?"

Yazgash nodded, and Abravie wisely remarked "I thank Gruumsh for restoring me."

Yazgash smiled and directed "Go raid. Tell Wrukag you can go ahead alone, they follow, you bring travelers close."

Abravie nodded and scrambled down the cliff to join the raiding party. He had heard tales of magic being used to find specific objects and didn't want to push his luck with Yazgash.

Yazgash and Abravie grew closer and Abravie's 'lone lost human' act worked well to draw expeditions and adventuring parties into the orcs' ambushes. The orc clan was highly patriarchal, but the males treated Yazgash as an equal – partly as Wrukag's cousin, and partly as the only one capable of healing them from many an injury. Abravie put in a good appearance on raids and as the token head of the household during ceremonies, but Yazgash was effectively in charge. Over the years, Yazgash and Abravie had eight half-orc children. They named the eldest Ghethreh.