Vak'rogh the Lost's page

Vak'rogh the Lost
Male half-orc brawler (Wildbite striker) 1
CN Medium humanoid (human, orc)
Init +3; Senses darkvision 60' (12 sq); Perception +7, Sense Motive +1
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Defense
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AC 15, touch 12, flat-footed 13
hp 13 (1d10+2+1 FCB)
Fort +4, Ref +4, Will +1
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee unarmed strike +5 (1d6+4/x2)
-- longspear +5 (1d6+6/x3)
-- greataxe +5 (1d12+6/x3)
Ranged javelin +3 (1d6+4/x2)
-- dart +3 (1d4+4/x2)
Special Attacks sneak attack +1d6
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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 7
BAB +1; CMB +5; CMD 17 (15 FF)
Feats Combat Reflexes, Improved Unarmed Strike
Traits Racial traits -- bestial (+2 Perception), rock climber (+1 Acrobatics/Climb); Background traits -- sacred touch (stabilize a dying creature by touch with a standard action), tactician (+1 trait bonus to initiative, 1/day +2 to AoO attack roll)
Skills Armor Check Penalty -1 (applied to all relevant modifiers); Acrobatics +6, Climb +8, Handle Animal +2 (+6 with Kazh), Linguistics +2, Lore (orc history) +5, Perception +7, Stealth +5
Languages Common, Orc, Giant, Dwarven

Encumbrance 87.4 lbs/100 (light load)

cold weather outfit, studded leather armor, greataxe, longspear, javelin, dart (x4), backpack, whetstone, waterskin, belt pouch, hammock, winter blanket, piton (x3), hammer, hemp rope 50', hemp rope 10', trail rations (x6), gemstones (x3 -- malachite, obsidian, blue quartz), 8 gp, 3 sp, 8 cp, and two coppers won from Julio

Vak'rogh is the only half-blooded offspring of his father, and he has three brothers and two sisters. Though born of a human prisoner, the birthmark on Vak'rogh's chest pointed to a great destiny, and so from an early age he was prepared to train as a Ghostspear -- a faction that worked among the several orc clans and tribes, yet answered to none of them. He trained in the weapons of his people, but came to love the spear most of all. He learned the languages of the orcs' allies and enemies, though he never possessed the tact expected of Ghostspear candidates. He willingly underwent the rites required of him by the tribe shaman, and studied the ancient traditions which would be his to safeguard upon completing his trials. But the training was not without disappointment. His combat prowess did not demonstrate the composure of his storied predecessors, but was marked by a cunning savagery; his tutelage in the mystic arts never produced any indication that the magic of his people was his to command. Vak'rogh was never worried about this lack of development, but the elders began to murmur and grumble -- when would this half-blood ever realize his potential??

The young half-orc entered the trials in his seventeenth year, but his failure was profound; already he was three years overdue for taking the oath to live as a Ghostspear. Yet out of that failure, Vak'rogh gained what, to him, felt like the worth of the world -- a friend. For on his way to the great altar, he sought refuge from the extremity of the storm-lashed peak in a narrow crevice, and quickly found himself bleeding from several wounds. A wolf pup, scarcely less waterlogged than the initiate half-orc, had claimed the shelter as its own. Thousands of feet past the timberline, too young yet to be away from its mother and litter, but there it was in that rocky crease all the same. Neither would leave the crevice willingly, and so it was that the wolf pup chewed, gnawed, bit, and gouged at Vak'rogh until it tired itself to sleep. The storm calmed, and Vak'rogh resumed his ascent, leaving the pup behind. At the altar, he called upon the spirits of his people, and the ancient powers that guided the Ghostspears in their mission, but no sign was given. And so it was that Vak'rogh descended to the encampment, not with a pale-flickering spear imbued by the ancients -- the sign of his confirmation as a Ghostspear, but with scabbed flesh and torn clothing, and a wolf pup never far from his heel. Despite the shame, Vak'rogh continued his regimen, but training Kazh began to take priority for him -- it was difficult to make the combative little beast heed his efforts, but he was loved all the same.

Just before winter in his twenty-third year, a Great Conclave was assembled of the leadership of the mountain clans. It was during this weeklong event that a group of guards from a distant settlement assaulted and killed Vak'rogh's mother, who had lived out a shamed existence among the orcs after her capture. Though there was no closeness to her in his own heart, the too-old not-yet-Ghostspear saw their actions as an affront to his clan's honor and might. When night came, Vak'rogh entered the squad's tent and killed them all, with axe and spear and fist. At dawn, as the visiting elders began to gather, the alarm was raised when the slain did not attend their master. When the great ones entered the tent to find a pile of six slaughtered guards, Vak'rogh rose up from his concealment among the corpses, blood-drenched and furious, and announced -- I am Vak'rogh of the mountains, and the blood of war! I have balanced the disrespect they showed my people! Cursed is anyone who finds fault in it!

No judgment was brought against him.

Things have a way of working out, though . . . .

That night, he was brought before all the assembled shamans and attending Ghostspears. Their deliberations were lengthy, but foregone -- Vak'rogh's birthmark did not quite match the god-mark, as they had long thought. And why did the ritual tattoos not hold the blood magic they should? Since when had a Ghostspear forged a bond with any animal as had Vak'rogh? The spirits still had not made him a Ghostspear, despite six more attempts!! How could a prospective Ghostspear slaughter so many horde warriors before passing his trials and feel justified? Didn't his declaration exhibit favoritism for one clan above the others??

No, no -- that would not do at all. Not. At. All.

The council named him "Lost", and exiled him straightaway.

With all his worldly possessions upon his back, and the uncertainty of homelessness upon his mind, Vak'rogh and Kazh cautiously approach a village that is likely full of all the races that call them "enemy" . . . .

Vak'rogh's form shows little of his human heritage, and he could be easily regarded as a "small" full-blooded orc by those unfamiliar with telling the difference. He considers himself an orc, though he acknowledges he was born of a human woman. As thoroughly steeped in the lore of his people as he is, Vak'rogh possesses a great sense of racial pride; the particulars of Ghostspear training temper that pride with a wisdom many would doubt is present in the orcish race -- that non-orcs are deserving of respect, and sometimes non-orcs must be called upon to oppose the horde, for the horde's benefit. So it is that this wayward "youth" has a conflicted view of the other races -- he is curious about them, and knows some of the good and bad that have come with his people's involvement with them, but he does not expect to be well-treated by them: he never was at home, so why expect it anywhere?

He knows that he'll be met with suspicion, and perhaps even violence. Vak'rogh is prepared for that, among these lowland people. He doubts that they, however, are prepared for him: an (half-)orc of orcs, far from home and somewhat clumsy even with the languages he knows, but not here to incite violence -- rather, just trying to get by. Being named "Lost" by the Great Conclave holds a finality that threatens to overwhelm Vak'rogh -- not in one hundred generations has one of the "Lost" been restored to the people, and the deeds that made it possible beggar belief.

Vak'rogh stands 6'6", and weighs 290 pounds. His dark brown hair, tinted with the red of his mother's, is stiff and bristly, and he keeps it shorn close to his head. He is lantern-jawed, to say the least, and the prominence of his tusks combined with the sharp structuring of his head and shoulders lend him a visibly primal aspect. Due to the chill of the higher altitudes to which he is accustomed, he carries a bulky collection of warm clothing with him -- his cloak and cap are fashioned from a bear he killed three winters ago; his tunic and trousers are crafted from yearling rams' hides stitched with the fleece-side inward; his boots and gloves are hard-cured ram's leather.

The young wanderer makes his way with his longspear held in his left hand, used as a "walking stick" as a matter of course. His pack is adjusted to keep most of its weight left-of-center on his back, allowing his greataxe to be strapped in ready reach of his dominant right hand. The single javelin Vak'rogh carries is secured to the left side of his backpack by a shaped 'clamp' made of horn. On each trouser leg, two darts are suspended by loops stitched into the outer seams.

Vak'rogh is capable and wary, and seems prepared to engage in the violence that rightly characterizes his orcish kin.