Mortoth Spellborn's page

Mortoth was born into violence and squalor as the child of a captive of the small Fevertusk orc tribe and its chieftain, Angrossh the Plague. Mortoth's mother, Marilene, was a Nirmathan wizard taken in a Fevertusk raid, stripped of spellbook and forced into slavery and worse through Angrossh's cruelty. When Mortoth was born, Angrossh initially had high hopes for the half-orc's prospects as a future leader of the Fevertusk's, but the young boy was more calculating that fierce, more thoughtful than brutal. Angrossh grew angry with him and with Marilene, who he blamed for making Mortoth "soft" with her nightly stories of magical wonders and potent artifacts that spawned legends of quests and heroes.

When Mortoth was 11, Angrossh finally lost his temper completely and began beating Mortoth mercilessly, with every intention of seeing the "wasted whelp" dead. It was at that moment that Marilene finally cast the only spell she still had prepared, one she'd held in her mind for well over a decade. To save Mortoth's life, she finally cast it, and Angrossh writhed in agony. The blast did not fell him, though, and the chieftain turned against Marilene, cutting at her with his cursed greataxe. While Angrossh was distracted, though, Mortoth saw his opportunity, snatching up a nearby falchion and cutting open Angrossh's spine.

Together, the wounded mother and son fled the Fevertusk camp as the other tribal warriors scrambled to begin pursuit. With nowhere else to turn, the pair fled into the Mindspin Mountains, where even the Fevertusk orcs would not risk following them. They tried to winter in the mountains, but Angrossh the Plague was true to his name even in death, as the supernatural illness inflicted by his cursed axe began to ravage Marilene's body. She attempted to recreate her spellbook, but even with Mortoth's keen intellect she could only remember and piece together bits and pieces of the magical formulae that had once been her whole life. As the snows fell and food became scarce, the disease finally finished its work, leaving Mortoth alone in the world at just 12 years old.

Since that time, Mortoth has grown into a somber, solitary adult. Using the book his mother once made for herself, he has taught himself alchemy from the notes she left him, and uses his natural insight to work as a bounty hunter in the lands along the eastern border of the Hold of Belkzen. With his hard-earned familiarity with orcish ways, he specializes in tracking fugitives who flee justice from Lastwall or Nirmathas into the Hold - as often as not, he has to then rescue such fugitives from the orcs who have captured them in order to bring them back alive. He has gained a reputation as reliable and committed to his contracts, and town guards and local sheriffs throughout the region are pleased to see him walk into town, usually dragging a subdued thief or con artist behind him.

His most recent assignment was for Jagrin Grath of Trunau, whose cousins were recently killed in an orc raid on a merchant caravan. The two youths were originally taken alive, but both were believed to have used their hopeknives once it became clear the caravan was fleeing the raid rather than staying to fight. Grath contracted Mortoth to try to recover the hopeknives and return them to their families. Though it took no small amount of effort, Mortoth has reclaimed the knives and is now making his way back to Trunau to deliver his cargo.

Mortoth has a brilliant mind and a whole lot of cynicism, born from a lifetime of loss, but he puts both to use in trying to, bit by bit and little by little, make the world a better place than it was when he came into it. He is normally blunt-speaking, rarely slowing down to explain something unless asked, but he can be both patient and somewhat charming when the need arises. He retains the interest in magic and magical artifacts he developed listening to his mother's stories as a child, and will sometimes forgo bounty payments in cash for a chance to spend time in a well-stocked arcane library or laboratory.

Mortoth is about average height and weight for a half-orc, just under six feet tall and about 240 lbs. At first glance, his features look noticeably orcish, but the intelligence in his dark green eyes gives the lie to that impression quickly. He wears comfortable travel wear over light armor; a well-used and cared for falchion is sheathed across his back, and a complex array of small vials and pouches of herbs hangs from his belt. Scars - most faint and very old - cover almost every visible inch of skin, and one of his prominent tusks is broken off at the tip. He has a habit of rubbing the broken tusk while he thinks, something that is often unintentionally discomforting to those around him.