Drawg Hammerfang's page

CN Medium humanoid Half-orc
Init +3; Senses Darkvision 60ft. Perception +9

-----Defense-----
AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 14
hp 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +2

-----Offense-----
Speed 30ft.
Melee Hatchet +5 (1d6+4), Two-weapon Fighting Hatchet +3/+3 (1d6+4/1d6+2), Great Club +5 (1d10+4), dagger +5 (1d4+4/19-20)
Ranged Hatchet +4 (1d6+4), short bow +4 (1d6/x3), dagger +4 (1d4+4/19-20)

-----Statistics-----
Str 19, Dex 17, Con 13, Int 13, Wis 14, Cha 7
Base Atk +5 melee, +4 ranged; CMB +5; CMD 18
Feats Two-weapon Fighting; Keen Scent
Skills Knowledge (geography) +5, Knowledge (history) +5, Knowledge (local) +5, Knowledge (nature) +5, Perception +9, Stealth +5 (+7), Survival +7, Swim +6 (+8)
Languages Common, Orc
SQ Bestial +2 Perception (racial trait), Frontier Forged (+1 Perception and +1 Survival), Rostlander (campaign trait +1 Fort Save), Mark of Slavery Flaw: take a -2 penalty to the next skill check or attack roll if you fail a skill check.Favored Enemy- Human

THE ORIGINS OF DRAWG HAMMERFANG AKA “The Hatchet”
Drawg Hammerfang was the product of a raped orc woman and a human mercenary in one of the many skirmishes that take place among the warlords of the River Kingdoms. Drawg’s mother died when he was a young boy, only revealing the race of the father to the boy. With the death of his mother, Drawg was an outcast within his orchish clan, branded a slave and forced to work hard and degrading manual labor. For a short time he accepted his fate and nurtured his hatred for humans and orcs, blaming both races for his lot in life. His hatred for his father in particular fueled his desire for vengeance. Finally fed up with the abuse, Drawg managed to escape into the nearby forest.

After wandering for several weeks, nearly starving death, Drawg met a half-elven elderly gentleman. Although blinded by the gray film covering his eyes, this man seemed to have no trouble moving through the thick underbrush of the forest. Nor did he seem to have trouble knowing where Drawg was hiding, evidenced by the hatchet that landed in the tree trunk next to his face. The man called out, in orc, for Drawg to give himself up or else the next axe would not miss. Drawg was surprised the man knew he was an orc and spoke his native tongue. When the man realized Drawg was merely a 10 year old child, he took pity on the boy and brought him to his home.

The half-elven man called himself Ragtun and answered many of Drawg’s questions while sharing a rabbit stew he had made. Drawg learned that Ragtun was a tracker and woodsman that had lived in this part of the wood for over 20 years. He also learned that Ragtun didn’t need to see because he knew every inch of the wood around his home for 20 miles. Ragtun then questioned Drawg. He wanted to know where Drawg came from and why a young half-orc boy was so far away from his clan. He asked about his mother and father. Drawg answered all of Ragtun’s questions truthfully and it was clear to Ragtun that the boy was filled with fear and anger at his clan and especially his father.

After several minutes of silence while they finished their meal, Ragtun asked Drawg, “Do you know how I knew where to throw my axe? I could smell you boy. I can smell your kind a mile off. Once your smell was in the air, I knew where to find you. It was a simple matter o f following the trail… tracking the smell to the source… stepping in your steps…feeling the trees, plants and the ground… listening to your raspy breath and the quickening of your heart once you knew I’d found you. When you know what to look for, boy, you don’t need your eyes.”

Suitably impressed and intimidated, Drawg asked Ragtun what he meant to do with him. After several minutes Ragtun asked Drawg what he would like him to do. The boy thought about it for several minutes and then asked if he could stay with Ragtun. Ragtun answered, “And what would I do with a scrawny half-orc boy? Orcs are violent, destructive creatures that care nothing for the very land that provides for them. And humans are no better, always encroaching on the domain of the forest. You have bad blood in you, boy…but then so do I. Maybe we can figure out an arrangement, you and me.”
And so Ragtun took Drawg into his home and under his tutelage. Drawg learned he had a natural gift for smelling the land and he developed his nose to the point he could track using it, much like his master. He learned of the woods, how to set traps and disable them, the art of the throwing axe and how to hunt for game. Drawg learned how to move quietly and gently enough to tap a deer on the behind before it realized he was there. He learned of the history of the world and of countries and kings. He learned to speak the common tongue. But most importantly he learned to always be aware of his surroundings. That was the most important lesson to learn, according to Ragtun.

After several years the two were as close as father and son and Drawg was experiencing happiness and contentment for the first time in his young life. However their peaceful life was interrupted one day by a group of rough looking men. As the group approached, Drawg ran into the hut to get Ragtun. As they emerged one of the men stepped forward and demanded Ragtun hand over his treasure. Drawg looked confusedly at Ragtun, and then the man, and blurted out, “There is no treasure.” The lead man told him to shut up. He looked at Ragtun and said, “We’ve searched a long time. We’ve come a long way and we know who you are old man. We know the stories and we are here to take what you found so long ago. Give it to us now and we will leave.”

Ragtun sadly lifted his face toward the man, “That was long ago and everything is long gone, friend. Please, leave us in peace, there is nothing here for you to find.” As he turned to go back to the hut, Ragtun rolled to the ground just before the twang of a bow and a streaking arrow flew where his back had been. He yelled to Drawg to run for the woods and came to his feet hurling an axe. The lead man fell to the ground with Ragtun’s axe buried in his head. Despite all of his training, Drawg was not prepared for combat. He knew how to use his weapon; he knew how to defend himself. But he did not know how to deal with the sudden fear welling up inside him. He stood there gaped mouthed as Ragtun took two more of the brigands down before a crossbow bolt finally found its mark in the old man’s gut.

The remaining brigands began to move forward to finish the job, still wary of the old man who was not dead yet and who had killed three of their members. As they moved closer and the blood began to poor from Ragtun’s body, Drawg learned how to deal with the sudden fear that had petrified him to stillness… anger. The first two men fell to the ground before they realized what was happening, one with a hatchet buried in his skull and the other with a hatchet in his gut. The last man looked up from his fallen comrades in time to see the young half-orc tumble into him frantically slashing with his remaining hatchet.

When Drawg’s arms were finally too weary to lift his hatchet anymore, he looked down at the pile of gore that used to be the brigand’s face. He turned his tear stained face to his mentor’s body and realized he was now alone. He then looked at all of the men lying on the ground and realized they were all humans. Humans again were responsible for the misery in his life.

He buried Ragtun’s body off the shores of his favorite pond and left the forest grove where he had spent the happiest times of his young life. He burned the bodies of the men after removing what little they had and set out for other lands. He eventually found a small village in Rostland, populated mostly by humans, and he watched them for several days before venturing into the village green. His dirty feral appearance was shocking, yet the villagers offered him a meal and a place to sleep. He warily took them up on their offer, suspecting their kindness a ploy. The next day he awoke with all of his possessions and a good night’s sleep. He was confused by these people and decided to spend several more days in the village if they would let him. He wanted to study them and see if they truly were as they seemed. He stayed there for a week and the people’s actions did not change.

On his last day in the village he discovered one of the villager’s young sons was missing. He offered to help find the boy and although the people seemed skeptical of his ability, they gladly accepted his help. Finding the boy was a simple matter. He asked for a piece of the boy’s clothing, got his scent and then followed it to a small cave. The boy’s body was in the cave and so was the man that had taken him. When the man saw the look on Drawg’s face, he cowered back and claimed it was an accident, he didn’t mean to hurt the boy. Drawg took the man’s head in one swing and quickly went to the boy’s body. The boy had been beaten but was still alive. Drawg took the boy’s body back to the village and his mother. He then led a group of the village’s men to the cave and showed them the body of the man who had kidnapped the boy.

When they returned to the village, the men thanked Drawg for his help and offered him a small token of their appreciation, a finely balanced hatchet. They explained they saw he used hatchets and the blacksmith had made this one to replace one of the worn hatchets that Drawg had. Drawg thanked them and left that evening. He was confused by the differing actions of these humans. It seemed there were humans who were able to live in balance and there were those who merely upset the balance.

As he continued his travels, Drawg encountered many villages and towns. He never stayed in one place too long and often preferred to sleep in the surrounding forests. He followed the same circuit of travel, about a 100 mile radius around the original village he found. He saw many injustices in almost every village and town. He always did his best to help those in need, even if that meant breaking the law of the land. He often felt these laws hindered people from obtaining true justice and he was not afraid to take the required measures to enact justice.

He learned his talents for tracking were always sought by many and he soon made a living and a name as the best tracker and trapper in the area. He became known as “The Hatchet”. Some said it was because of the hatchets he threw with deadly accuracy; some said it was because he twirled twin hatchets in his hands in battle; and some said it was because of his clipped and blunt manner of speech. But most knew it was because he would cut down anyone or anything that stood in the way of his quarry or that threatened the local villages.

It was this talent and reputation that enabled Drawg to join a local expedition to the Green Belt. He decided it was time to move out a little further and tame this land so the villages would be safe. Of course the promise of killing bandits always catches the attention of “The Hatchet.”