3. Vrirk Nawr

Vrirk Nawr

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    Character Name: Vrirk Nawr
    Account Name: Jetlaw

    An abandoned child from the illicit sexual intercourse between an orcish bandit and a respectable human noblewoman, Vrirk Nawr was never a likely candidate for the "arts arcana". As a young child, of only 8 years of age, she was sold to a band of wandering bards, nomads and vagabonds as slave labour. These weren't quite gypsy hordes, but a group of adventurers who saught more than battle, at every opportunity, they generally made a good enough living on the pockets of those more fortunate than they were. Sometimes by stealth, but mainly by deception, blackmail and brute force, they lived a good and fulfilled life. But when times got bad, they were often hired as mercenaries, accompanying noblemen paladins on quests to slay goblin hordes attacking a nearby town, and dastardly assasssins on missions to kill the malevolent baron extorting his peasants for everything but their souls.

    Her orc heritage should have granted her above average strength, but she was a feeble child and was barely able to carry all but the lightest of luggage ((OOC: Strength 10)) for the shortest periods of time, but she noticed that as time passed she found that although she was still unable to carry heavier loads, what she could carry was able to be carried longer ((OOC: Base constitution of 12 at character age 13)). Due to her inherent weakness she was nearly abandoned many times, but if it had not been for her remarkable balance, allowing her to carry various things places some of the wanderers couldn't go ((OOC: Dexterity 14)), and if it had not been for the intervention of a benevolent elven bard who had been travelling with these unsightly rogues, but she had always survived and had always been allowed to travelled along. She saw many sights and although she was a slave, as time passed, she was brought more and more into the group. The stories of the mysterious bard who accompanied aswell fuelled her imagination. Stories of dragons, slaads, driders. Of good and evil alike. Of herioc dwarves, whom she had rarely seen due to their mountain dwellings being so far adrift, and of treacharous hurthlings. This fuelled her imagination and awakened the draconic blood that ran through her veins. ((Her mother was a sorceress))

    Life on the road was not so bad for Vririk, she had the company of the mysterious young elven bard, and she was eventually accepted as a part of the group having taken longer than planned to earn how much she cost back to the nomads. But the bard was the reason she was happy, they used to talk for hours. She still had many orcish weaknesses ((Wisdom 10)), although she had gained remarkable good looks for a half-orc, mostly due to her mother ((OOC: Charisma 12 from birth due to good looks)). But her main orcish weakness was her inability to grasp language and speech, to which she was very annoyed many times when she was unable to tell her bard friend the vivid visions in her dreams. Seeing this, the bard took it upon himself to teach the young half-orc language, starting with the fun task of pronunciation. It took her almost two and a half years, but eventually Vrirk ‭‎was able to manipulate her mouth and produce the two small words, but the words that would stay with her the rest of her life, Eowarebril Xilaben. As soon as she said these two elven words, the name of the young bard, she found out that the rest of the common human language was easy to master and she became quite and adept linguist ((OOC: Intelligence 12)) and she soon found she had so much to say that she never could before. Eventually, she had mastered the common language and could speak it as well as she could her orcish langage ((OOC: Instinctive knowledge of heritage language)).

    But the bard had not done yet, he had seen what Vrirk was in the past, he had seen the youthful charm and charisma, he knew she had the blood of a sorceress running through her veins. Knowing ballads that stirred up the imagination, he used to spend all day singing to Vrirk. It was one day when she finally discovered her heritage for herself. The group were travelling along a dark path in the middle of a field at night, everyone was scared and the ballad found himself unable to conjure a light to lead the way, his only choice was to sing inspiring ballads to instill courage into the wandering nomads. His every word in this song pierced the young half-orc and while she sat, entranced by a ballad that had set her imagination seeing her own soul in a swirling vortex of light, she herself began to glow. Words she'd never heard before escaped her orcish lips and she created a strong ball of light in her hands, that illuminated the fields for hundreds of feet. This flash of light caused a group of kobolds who had been stalking the caravan to become brightly illuminated, their eyes glowing red in the aura of the young half-orc. Either everyone else had sensed the young girl's powers beforehand just as the bard had, or his ballad was still empowering the hearts of the nomands, because although surprised, nobody was scared or showing any sign of fear.

    After a brief pause, the bloodthirsty gang of kobolds charged and the caravan to to battle. Outnumbered three-to-one, the songs of the ballad evened the odds, empowering every rogue, every warrior, every single being's soul to a state of fearless nirvana, as if there was nothing at all in the world that could harm them. Thus, the kobolds feel. Overwhelmed by the caravan and without the advantage of the shadows, one by one they began to flee, injured or tired from battle, until in the distance a great howl stopped every kobold dead in it's tracks. It was a fearsome kobold cheiftain riding on the back of a tiger. This sight boosted the morale of every kobold, overcoming the music of the bard. The battle was a stalemate, neither side losing any more than the other side, when it happened again. Staring into the light she held in her hands, she saw snow clouds, a frozen tundra that was colder than the coldest winter. Without thought, she uttered another incantation, and from the ball of light flew a frozen bolt of pure ice that chilled the very air around it. The bolt headed directly for the chieftain and went straight through his body, causing raining droplets of blood to pour down on the kobolds nearby. Seeing it's master dead, frozen into solid ice, it bucked and sent the chieftain's frozen remains crashing to the floor. Shards of blood, of the kobold leader, flew into the air. For the second time, the kobold group stopped dead, but this time they were denied a wait to think, the tiger turned on the group and slaughtered kobold after kobold. When there were nothing left but corpses and limbs, tattered remains of these humanoid abberations, the tiger stood infront of the caravan. It felt as if for a second to thank the caravan in a supernatural embrace, and sprinted off in search of the darkness…

    It was not long before Vrirk realised... It was her 16th birthday... And so the power in her blood had manifested itself from an ethereal aura into terrestrial being. She was empowered, and requested leave from the caravan. After travelling for two years, she had grown far more resiliant than she was before. ((OOC: Now constitution 14 to represent her age of 18 and the physical maturity that comes with age.)) Eventually, she came across the Kingdom of Narfell, lost and tired in a city she doesn't know the name of, she stumbles into the nearest Inn. Dragging herself in using her staff as a walking stick, she rents a room for the night and asks for a hearty breakfast in the morning. Now her adventure begins for real, what will she find in the kingdom of Narfell? Only what she looks for hard enough.

    ((OOC: I hope you enjoyed my little story. I was going to create a half-orc bard, but I'm not confident enough in myself for that :)))


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