Not so long ago, Lort returned to the Lands of the Linnorm Kings:
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Lort the Mighty's father (Tort) was a half-orc, his father (Nort) was a half-orc and his father (Jort) was a mad, raving, sychopathic full-blooded... human... from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. Jort the Insane was a true equalist... well, in that he didn’t have enough faculties to hold any prejudices whatsoever. His consort, when he had Nort (Lort’s grandfather) was a truly hideous example of an orcish female named Brelinda. The male orcs shunned her. So, when Jort showed her attention, it was only a matter of time before Nort was born. Used to being outcast, this unlikely family moved away from the north to settle in the southern lands. Brelinda was killed shortly thereafter. In his grief, Jort abandoned Nort to the tender mercies of the villagers who killed Nort’s mother.
A visiting priest of Kurgess, Father Hutin, took kindly upon Nort and saved him from the mob and took him to his own (mostly human) village. Nort grew up to make Father Hutin proud. Nort espoused physicality in all kinds of ways, even favoring his fists over weapons, but was eventually known as Nort the Swift (he could, after all, outrun a horse over short distances). Nort was not well liked by the humans in the village, so he eventually left for the swarming metropolis of Absalom - where he met Wakina, a fellow half-orc. Their love lasted only briefly, but out of it was born a son: Tort.
Tort went on to become one of the finest urban trackers ever to stalk the streets of Absalom. Tort was purported to be able to run for hours at a time while on the hunt, earning him the name Tort the Enduring. He also founded a half-orc support group within the city, helping to unite this estranged community of second-class citizens. It was in this group of rejects and misfits that he met Jemana, Lort’s mother. Tort and Jemana were married (and remain so to this day) and had a rather strange looking son together: Lort.
Lort’s hair was (and still is) a very unusual blond. His skin was pale and pallid, with only a hint of green - giving it an almost eerie tinge of death. Lort had turned out somewhat like his great grandfather - a man of the North, and (thankfully) only a little bit mad. Lort grew a mighty beard, and sought to become the toughest of his fellow half-orcs - espousing all the qualities that his grandfather’s god, Kurgess, valued. Excelling at strength more than stamina or speed, Lort fashiond himself as Lort the Mighty. Taking up both the axe and the faith, Lort soon became known as one of Absolom's bravest (and craziest) budding acolytes.
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The strong westerly wind swept Lort’s long, blond beard and hair back across his broad shoulders. He stood at the entracnce to the catacombs in Gray and cocked his ear. Footsteps were definitely coming his way.
And so Lort found himself standing at the place of his destiny - his chance to prove himself. He waited patiently, as the noise of the footsteps grew nearer and the creatures making them emerged from the darkness...
