Llarth was somewhat like a child of orcish tribes that clashed with the paladins of Lastwall... except for the fact he wasn't as green and his father was not an orc. That being said, he wasn't exactly what they intended to create through cross breeding. While they wanted a strong, cunning military genius, they got something average, even weaker than a normal orc instead. Because of this, he never shared in the glory of battle or got a warrior's training. Instead, he was given the position of aiding their elder shaman tend to the wounded and get the 'real orcs' back into fighting shape. While his pride was constantly tested and taunted, he took what satisfaction he could from it just to prove he could be useful and not be left to die alone.
When he came of age, he received a vision from the Spirit of Life, his shamanistic patron, and felt the satisfaction of being accepted as an orc for the first time in his life. Seeing that the sprints at least acknowledged his linage (and fearful of questioning their judgment) , the elder took him as a true apprentice and taught him the ways of the Shaman, even gaining his only true friend, Song, in the process. His healing prowess only rose with these new powers... but also lead to his ultimate shame.
As he was completing the first leg of his training, a band of warriors were gearing up for an ambush of some foolish caravan traveling through their lands. Knowing they couldn't leave things since the supplies were valuable, they requested the shaman accompany them to keep their warriors strong. He accepted on the condition his apprentice accompany them as part of his final trial. They begrudgingly agreed, leading the Llarth's first real battle. While the orcs were suspecting a fair fight, they hadn't counted on the bodyguards being highly trained fighters and paladins. Even as the shamans worked their magics, more and more warriors fell faster than they could be healed. Then, it was their turn to be targeted. A lucky shot from an arrow was all that was needed to cripple and kill the old orc. Seeing his master, along with the rest of the warrior band falling around him, the half-orc ran for his life, leaving them to be taken by Pharasma.
As soon as he felt he was safe, Llarth collapsed from exhaustion and shame. When his people needed him most, when he was ready to prove himself as an orc... he ran. He could no longer go back, even if he wanted to. The only thing he had left was the spirits. He begged and pleaded for guidance, desperately wanting answers. He received another vision from his patron, telling him to head south to the Nirmathas. There, he would find purpose again. Now pointed in a direction, he journeyed forward, wanting to leave war behind him.
While the transition was long, hard, and full of strife, he eventually adjusted enough to be accepted somewhat by the humans. Proving his intentions was easy when people were in need of healing while being a half-orc meant he wouldn't be messed with by bandits or miscreants often. These days, he has become something of a familiar sight in Phaendar, using his abilities to tend to sick farmhands, animals, and doing any odd jobs or general work to survive. It wasn't easy, but it was still better than what he had before. While he still carried the shame of his actions with him, he was just happy to be away from battle and war. Little did he know that in the lands of conflict, war was always around the corner...
