Hennon's page

About Hennon

Status Effects:Sprained Ankle (-2 DEX)
XP: 0/2000

Physical Appearance:
Height: 7'3"
Weight: 318 lbs.
Age: 14
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Reddish brown
Skin: Grayish green

Racial Traits:

• Darkvision 60 ft
• Orc Blood
• Orc Ferocity
• Orc Weapon Familiarity
• Intimidating

Class Features:

Backstory:
The exact details and circumstances of Hennon's birth are unknown. It's probably better that way, given the typical situations that produce such mixed breeds. His story begins when he was found by a logger, abandoned and half starved to death in the forest. Had this been any other logger on any other day, Hennon would most likely be dead - put out of his misery by the logger's trusty axe. Spare me your protests of injustice and immorality. In truth, those are the lucky ones. A half-orc's life is not an easy one, characterized by pain and sorrow and loneliness. A perpetual misfit, hated by orc and non-orc alike because he is neither fully man or fully beast.

The logger's name was Langlen. I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but to Hennon it means everything. You see, Langlen and his wife, Reguba, desperately wanted a child. However, after 30 years of marriage it was quite apparent that they would never birth a child of their own. In Langlen's eyes, the pitiful abomination that lay before him (obviously favoring his orc heritage) was nothing short of a miracle – a gift from Gozreh himself.

And so he took the child home. Reguba, filled with 30 years of pent-up mothering instinct, loved him immediately as only a mother can and nursed the child back to health. Their neighbors, as would be expected, were less than understanding. Spare me your self-righteous indignation. Until you have experienced first hand the terror of an orc raid – seen the violence and hate in their bloodshot and jaundiced eyes – seen the blood of your people dripping from their blades and tusks – you have no room to judge. Langlen and Reguba knew full well the cost of their choice, and they did not blame their neighbors for their ostracism.

Instead they relocated to the logging camp full-time. Langlen was foreman there, and well respected by all the men and the few wives present. They knew how desperately Langlen and Reguba wanted a child, and so they did not question the presence of the hybrid. But neither did they welcome him with open arms. At least not right away.

Hennon began to grow – quickly – his orc heritage speeding up his maturation. By age three he could lift his father's double bladed axe in one hand and swing it easily. By age five he was the size of some of the shorter men in the camp. By age eight he was as large as his father – a bear of a man by all standards. He began to work in the camp, and soon he was going out with the crew regularly to harvest timber.

After six months he was doing the work of two men. By the end of his first year he was doing the work of four and was by far the largest member of the camp, standing nearly a full head taller than the next tallest man. The other loggers began to see his value, and his presence eased their backs and their minds due to his capacity to work, and his size and appearance deterred even the hungriest of wolves.

But as Hennon reached his 12th year, Reguba began to worry that her son needed more than an axe and strong arms to make a name for himself in the world. She convinced Langlen to let them move back to Kassen so that Hennon could get some schooling.

His education, however, did not come from books. Hennon's mind was simple, and he much preferred the simple cause and effect of setting axe to tree and watching it fall to the complicated letters that manufactured words in books. And you know how kids are. Hennon was doomed from the onset. Nearly fully mature on his first day of school next to young boys who were just beginning to feel their first growing pains he made and easy target. He was sporting the full beard of a logger as he walked into the simple school that day, immediately silencing the young lad who was showing off his first dark hair under his nose to his best friend. His tusk-laden mouth was more conducive to producing slobber than coherent sentences. As he stuttered his way through simple math and reading, his overly large, gray-green forehead furrowed and flushed, his small eyes narrowed in concentration, his education on the cruel side of the civilized races began in earnest. Hennon Gallik became Hennon the Half-wit.

Spare him your misplaced pity, though. To his credit Hennon bore his persecution gracefully. He knew the reputation of his orc kin, so he didn't blame his classmates for their scorn. He might not have been smart by any standard, but he knew enough to recognize fear as root of their ridicule. He tried to show them he was gentle and different from those who sired him, but fear is a stubborn root not easily pulled.

Which brings us to the worst day of Hennon's life. It happened three months ago, near the end of the most recent logging season. Langlen was no longer a young man. Although his spirit was as fiery as it was when he was a 20 year old greenhorn, his body was wearing out. Sixty-three years he walked this earth, and not one year more. As he was scouting out possible timber crops for the new year's thaw on the banks of the Tourondel, his well-used heart beat its last.

Many in Kassen mourned the loss of a good man and Reguba and Hennon mourned the loss of a husband and father. Hennon returned to the logging camp to finish out the year to support himself and Reguba. Reguba hated herself for the burden she felt she had become on Hennon's broad shoulders, but in truth he was relieved to return to the camp and the woods and the axes. He exercised his demons through sweat.

And so we arrive at the present. Hennon returned from the logging camp two weeks ago and flatly refused to return to school. Reguba didn't protest much. She knew how uncomfortable it made him. Shortly after he had returned, however, they received an unexpected visitor: Mayor Uptal. A longtime acquaintance of Langlen, Reguba knew him well and greeted him warmly. Hennon had never met the man, but knew he was important simply by how he dressed so he called him the most respectful term he knew: “Boss.”

Mayor Uptal, it turned out, was not just there to extend his sympathies to Reguba. He came more specifically to see Hennon. He told Hennon about the Crypt of the Everflame, and gave him a theatrical rendition of the story behind it, which Hennon enjoyed immensely. When he was finished with this oratory, the Mayor informed Hennon and Reguba that he was soon going to travel to the Crypt to retrieve some of the flame, and he asked Hennon if he would accompany him and the others. He had seen the way Hennon had been treated and was impressed by how he had handled it. It also helped that Hennon was more than seven feet tall and stronger than an ox. With the snows only a few months away and the herds of deer and elk on the move, the wolves were sure to be hungry. Hennon's axe would be a welcome companion on the trip.

Reguba was uncertain, at first. But one look at the excitement in Hennon's eyes and she knew she couldn't refuse him this opportunity. And so they were there on the day that Mayor Uptal announced the journey to the Crypt of the Everflame...