Dok'nethal's page

About Dok'nethal

Standing 6'2 with a medium heavy build Dok'nethal is fairly muscular with a light green skin color. His hair is a dark red, and is long; he often wears it in a pony tale, and it's apparent that in some areas you can see where the sun has baked sections of his hair. Upon his face he adorns a fairly thick, but semi trimmed beard, and it's obvious from looking at it that it would look nicer if he had more time to care for it. His eyes are brown, and unlike the Orcs of his clan they have a mellow demeanor, but that fades the moment battle erupts. His story goes as followed,

Dok'nethal Redtooth was born in Osirion to a Human mother whom the Orcs had captured, and had serve their fantasies. Seeing an opportunity for this child to become something more than just another raider the head Shaman took Dok'nethal under him as an apprentice. Dok'nethal's childhood rarely had him around his father, and his mother was eventually killed by the brutes.

Eventually Dok'nethal managed to successfully finish the Shaman's apprenticeship when the Shaman had died of disease. This was after years of harsh treatment, and being seen as inferior by the others within his clan. Finally he had gained trust and respect as he had taken over the job of Shaman of the Blistering Scream tribe. Unfortunately he was only a mere twelve years old.

This was not as good of a time as it would originally seem though. The chief was young, and rash. Hating the fact that "half breeds" were amongst their ranks he decided to clean up, and the first one on the list was the only one in power, Dok'nethal.Only a few months upon his becoming the shaman, and the Chief of the tribe decided to sacrifice Dok'nethal to Gorum in exchange for a prosperous season of hunting merchants, and other vagabonds that may end up in the vast dune sea.

This sacrifice required that Dok'nethal be split open with a ceremonial dagger. Unfortunately for the chief right as he grabbed a hold of the blade strange clouds began to form overhead. Extremely strange cloud formations within the desert caused many whispers from amongst the tribe onlookers. Suddenly as if reality itself was being torn open a rift had formed two feet away from Dok'nethal's tied and helpless body. The chief wasted no time in believing this was a sign to get it done with, and thrust the dagger downward. A shadow shot from the portal, and had grabbed a hold of the chieftain's hand causing him to drop the dagger, and allow only a tiny insignificant cut to fall upon Dok'nethal.

The shadow's dark figure gained color. From this color everyone beheld pearly white scales with emerald patterns upon them. At one section of the scales there was a strange gray shading which had an uncanny resemblance to Gorum's holy symbol. A moment later and the form filled out to show the shadow was not a hand, but a serpent creature that was around fifteen feet long, and had emerald-tipped white feathers making a mane around the serpent's head, which was wrapped around the chieftain's arm.The blood from the chieftain from where this serpent had bitten him trickled down and dripped onto the open wound of Dok'nethal.

Seconds later the serpent let the rest of its body spill out from the rift, and afterwords the rift had closed. One moment later and all of the witnesses began to bow down to the serpent. They believed it to be an avatar of Gorum himself. The serpent finally let the chieftain go, and with this it then claimed that the Shaman was his, and that his time had not yet come.

Regretfully the chieftain fell to one knee. He knew that after such a spectacular display Dok'nethal's death would only cause an uproar from his tribe which may lead to a coup-De-Tate. From then onward Dok'nethal had practically been worshiped by the tribe that was until the tribe's untimely demise five years later.

The Osirion army had finally been sent to the desert to disperse the tribe, and establish safety for their merchants to cross the desert. They were successful. Though they had one flaw within their plan. That was that Dok'nethal had been sent on one of his many pilgrimages by the avatar of Gorum, which now called itself Mez'ka. This pilgrimage required that he traverse the desert in search of several old tombs with which Gorum wanted to contents to. When he returned a week after the raid he realized that his tribe was no more.

Fortunately for him he had learned common from the many captives his tribe held on to for a time. While these people were doomed they almost always had one good thing about them, information. Dok'nethal never understood why Orcs always had to kill, and be brutish, but he knew that Gorum's will was final amongst his clan, and no one would dare argue that. He felt that his clan only really held him from his true fate which he believed would be found by aiding the government which had captured his tribe.

Many would scoff at this choice, but why shouldn't he? His tribe had all but tortured him throughout his rough childhood taking nightly beatings from his protege, and getting laughed at while this was happening never made him feel like he should be in the tribe. Eventually he managed to get in touch with the members who led expeditions within the Pathfinder Society. Believing that Gorum wants him to take initiative in claiming many of the old artifacts within the tombs of old Dok'nethal wasted little time in signing up. He would pay his dues, and he would serve, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to pay Gorum tribute in the process. After all, his childhood hardships deserved a little bit of reward.