*Background*
Ugula was born of the unnatural and unwilling union of a large, brutish orc with a female human slave in the city of Urglin. Like many born to such a union, his mother was left to fend herself and her child with no help from the father. As a child born to a slave, his destiny was also to be a slave. A short miserable life of forced labour was what he had to look forward to. As luck would have it, his fate changed one day early on when his father was slain while raiding a nearby settlement. His mother was then free yet with no support and no skill, forced to mete out a miserable existence for herself and her young child.
Her first order of action was to flee the city that had enabled and condoned her slavery and treatment. With only the shirt on her back and her young child in tow, she set out on the road with no set destination in mind. Luckily she had not gone far before she was overtaken by a caravan heading from Urglin to Trunau. Fortunately they were a band of greedy, yet goodly, merchants. They took mercy on her and her small child and afforded them passage, food, and shelter with their caravan on the open road. Had they not shown this mercy, the mother and her young son would surely have perished.
Once arrived to Trunau, the caravan leader arranged for her to work at a smithy owned by one of his dwarven customers. He was quite reluctant at first to take her on due to her child but in the end showed mercy and arranged for her to work for room and board. Initially she was responsible for sweeping and cleaning but it wasn't long before her son was old enough to take on those mundane tasks and free her up to take on other tasks.
For better or worse, growing up alongside the smithy's children and working at the forge afforded Ugula unique opportunities. Living with dwarves only helped to foster his hatred for orcs, and as he grew older he learned to fight as they did. Granted all techniques were not generalizable due to his stature but many were.
The only gift he received from his father was the strength and size owed to his orcish heritage. His father was a beast of a man and like him, Ugula grew tall and strong and at a rate that exceeded the other children his age, especially the dwarves. By the time he was ten years of age, he stood at nearly six feet tall and weighed nearly thirteen stone. His size allowed him to quickly take on new tasks more important than cleaning the smithy. As soon as he was able to lift a shovel he was in charge of shoveling material to stoke the furnace. As soon as he was strong enough to lift steel, he would assist with moving heavy items around. He was given opportunities to craft but he never showed any exceptional skill with the hammer. After numerous failed attempts to craft armor or weapons, it was determined the most complicated item he would be allowed to craft was the humble horseshoe. This was fine for Ugula, as he would rather spend his time out in the open swinging a sword or learning how to use a shield anyways.
By the time he was sixteen years of age his hulking frame stood at nearly seven feet and his weight approached eighteen stone. Enlisted and trained in the militia as soon as he was able to, he had become proficient with all manner of weapons. His favorite weapon by far was the polearm. With his size and strength, this weapon provided a tremendous reach and the weight which might prove troublesome for others was no barrier to him.
Now grown and independent, he now spends his time honing his martial skills and working in the smithy. Despite his heritage, and perhaps because of it, he harbors a deep seated hatred of orcs. He feels that the actions of his father that brought him into this world are engrained deep within every orc and that given the opportunity they would all rape, pillage and murder with total disregard for others. His loathing for orcs is only intensified by his love for his mother and the knowledge of the way she was treated by them. When the horns blow and arms are taken up to defend the city, few do so with as much vigor and ferocity as Ugula Bloodfist.
*Appearance*
A hulking beast of a man, he stands at nearly seven feet and weights nearly eighteen stone. Clearly of orcish heritage, his skin as a green-brown hue and his protruded jaw sports two massive bottom tusks. His long arms and legs look thick and solid as oaks, with a barrel chest that portrays sheer strength. His wide, short nose is pierced with a thick gold ring. His sunken red eyes peer out from below a protruding forehead. His hair is cropped short and his beard is kept cut at a medium length – he appears quite well kept for a man of orcish heritage.
*Personality*
Aggressive, blunt, proud and boastful. He uses his size and ferocity to intimidate others. He is not one to trust others easily, but to any he calls a friend he is fiercely loyal. He readily defends his friends with both words and force. If he hears someone speak ill about a friend behind their back, he confronts them immediately (usually accompanied with a heavy blow and a resultant mewing apology). He would ride into the path of a charging giant if a friend were in danger. Deep down, however, he has a cruel streak – owing perhaps to his orcish heritage. This is most often seen in battle and in punishment – where perhaps a twisted wrist or light punch would suffice, he prefers to break an arm or a heavy blow to break a jaw.
*Motivation*
He harbors a deep hatred for orcs and embraces any opportunity to kill them in battle. He does not harbor ill will towards half-breeds like himself, but shows open contempt toward any full bloods. Giving his size and martial aspirations, he would ideally like to make his mark in this world as a soldier of notable rank or as a successful adventurer.
