Troghob the half-orc cleric

So, the current campaign is being cryogenically frozen for a short period while we switch to a campaign penned by Nigel. That will start this week. I'm not actually sure if I'll be keeping a record of it since that activity was partly a task I assigned myself as DM. We'll see, but I DID think it would be cool to post the bio I wrote up for the character I'll be playing.

It's, maybe, a little cliche for a half-orc, but I tried to make things interesting by making him a patron of St. Cuthbert. Anyway, I've never played as or with a half-orc in any game, so gimme a break. The bio's a little ham-handed, or heavy-handed, or both, but it was fun to write up and I think it turned out okay.

The pillaging and raping of orcish warbands upon human settlements is not unheard of, but truly uncommon is the human woman who survives to bear a child of such an encounter. Such was Elmma, who found herself the mother of a half-orc baby boy. Soon after the birth, the father, a barbaric warrior named Trogh, returned to claim his stake, hauling off the mother and child to his tribe -- to her dismay and, honestly, the relief of Elmma's village.

The child was named Troghob in honor of his father and welcomed into the tribe as one of their own. As he grew, he engaged in orcish brawls and their typical sadomasochistic traditions. Though the boy was not as strong as the true orcs of his age, he showed strong comprehension and perceptions well beyond the mentality of a normal child, never mind of a common orc. Despite his lack of strength compared to his compatriots he would usually defeat any challenger through a mix of brute force and superior cunning. This fact, along with a display of leadership qualities in his character, paved the way towards a future as a great chief among the orcs.

This alarmed Elmma. The mother had lived these years as a slave to Trogh, who despite everything was not unkind to her and allowed her to have a say in the raising of his child -- perhaps he realized her human advice was what allowed Troghob to excel as quickly as he did. But Elmma had given this advice to protect her son, to keep him alive in the brutal world of orc culture. She had not expected him to become a leader, to make the evil tribe a stronger, more powerful force. Finally the shoe dropped: Troghob led his first raid, upon his mother's settlement no less. He returned gleefully to Elmma, proudly displaying to her his trophy -- the disembodied head of the human village chief.

Horrified, Elmma immediately initiated a plot to escape. As the bright afternoon sun bore its wretched light, so despised by the orcs, upon their camp, she managed to murder Trogh and sedate Troghob. She stole a pair of horses and bound Troghob to one, then rode as fast as she could as far as she could.

They had traveled many miles by the time Troghob woke. The boy roared and thrashed in his bonds, but Elmma had used strong rope to ensure that he could not escape. She came to his side and soon Troghob's rage-filled shouts had quieted as the emotion of his mother's sobs overtook him. She had explained the concept of good and evil to her son many times, and he was familiar with the lecture but had ignored it up to this point. Now, somehow, his gift of perception had finally allowed him to empathize with Elmma's message.

Elmma had kept the bestial nature of her son at bay, but she knew she had not tamed it. She decided only a greater power might perform the task and brought Troghob to a church of St. Cuthbert. Though the half-orc's appearance and nature might have dissuaded other organizations, the Chapeaux of this church were intent on converting as many as possible to the will of Cuthbert. They took the task on as a challenge. Thus the half-orc's re-education began under the watchful eye of his mother.

The teachings of the priests were about as far from the barbaric lifestyle of the orcs as possible and Troghob did not have an easy time adjusting. Other than his teachers, the clergy shunned him. He was unused to discipline and fits of violent rage were usually the punctuation of any seminar he attended. Nevertheless, he found himself intrigued by the nature of St. Cuthbert's teachings: the deity's uncompromising, vengeful character was very orcish in a way, but balanced by a high value of common sense, wisdom, and the pursuit of knowledge. Though intolerant of most of his colleagues at the church, Troghob believed he had found a like mind and ally in St. Cuthbert. His outbursts grew more infrequent and he gradually accepted the role of a quiet loner, trusting in only his mother and a few good teachers and friends.

By the time he was sixteen, Elmma believed the beast within her son had been tamed. It was around this time that raids by the savage races on the frontier settlements began to escalate. Able-bodied men were called on to assist in the protection of the lands, and the Chapeaux agreed to provide paladins and clerics in the fight. For Troghob, now a minor cleric, the opportunity was a no-brainer: despite his re-education, the lust for combat was in his blood, and anything was better than rotting away in the church.

Of course, there was also the possibility that he might encounter orcs again, perhaps even his old tribe, but the half-orc looked forward to meeting his former brethren on the battlefield. Secretly, he yearned to return to that way of life, curious how he would find it now, with all that he'd learned under St. Cuthbert. But it was his devotion to the deity that kept him on the human side of the fight. And he fought well -- he played a major part in several battles along the frontier, equally apt at offense as defense, cleaving his way through the evil hordes and magically healing his fellow soldiers. His understanding of orc tactics made him a core advisor to captains and generals, but few publically acknowledged his help. His presence among the humans, therefore, had a mixed effect: though his (often successful) efforts to win the fights garnered a number of empathizers and personal friends among both ground troops and officers, the majority of his "comrades" could not overcome their prejudice against his ethnicity. At the best of times he was treated as someone with an embarrassing disability; mostly he was simply ignored as an outcast; and then there were the "accidents" -- friendly fire on the battlefield because fellows supposedly couldn't tell him apart from the enemy, personal attacks and brawls in the camps reported as "initiated by the orc's savage temper," etc. -- usually resolved by a minor reprimand for all parties involved.

Ultimately, it was too much. The only thing tying Troghob to the humans was his loyalty to St. Cuthbert and he wasn't sure they deserved the deity's protection. He decided, therefore, to seek out and rejoin his old tribe and attempt to introduce them to the teachings of Cuthbert. This prospect excited him -- perhaps, if he could convert the orcs into a lawful, sensible society worthy of St. Cuthbert's attention, orc and human culture would somehow merge. The more he considered this, the more he was excited, and he became convinced that this was his life's work.

The orcs were surprisingly acceptant of him -- he had become known as a fearful enemy, but this itself was enough to impress the tribe. The half-orc understood this and knew that for his teachings to be heard, he'd have to adapt them to offer something that orcs would desire. So, he promised the things that the creatures loved: victory, glory, riches, all in the name of St. Cuthbert. He formed a convent from the tribe's most intelligent individuals, a convent that effectively became a military committee. Troghob knew that the best example he could give orcs of Cuthbert's teachings in action was their favorite pastime: war.

So, for a time, he fought on the other side of the same war, just as effectively slaughtering his former human allies as he had once slaughtered former orc allies. This, he felt, was a necessary evil for a greater good. If he could convert the orcs, then they might learn to understand the human perspective that his mother had taught him.

But as he grew older and spent more time with the orcs he realized his effort had been doomed from the start. Yes, the orcs operated better in battle under his command, with wisdom, organization, and strategy guiding their attacks, but they had learned nothing; eliminate his leadership from the equation and they were again little more than savages. And the result of the victories hadn't changed. Prisoners and innocents were thoughtlessly slaughtered, land and crops taken were desecrated without consideration of future use, and there was constant in-fighting. Climbing the ranks in orcish tradition was, after all, a matter of killing your superior and claiming his position. Despite the fact that he was the sole reason for their good fortune in battle, Troghob's authority was constantly challenged so that he had to deflect hidden assassins and legitimate challengers on almost a weekly basis.

One particularly intelligent member of the convent, Grooku, was smart enough to realize that such base attempts to claim Troghob's position were experiments in failure. Instead, he secretly launched a smear campaign, claiming the half-orc's human blood was a weakness that would ultimately drive the orcs to ruin. For a month these rumors grew and prospered among the tribe and encouraged more would-be challengers and assassins then ever. Life in the tribe had become a nightmare for Troghob.

Finally the stew came to a boil. Troghob led yet another raid to victory on the human settlements, but the spoils of war included a tragic surprise. Elmma had traveled to the settlements in search of her son and had been trapped in the attack. Now, amongst the corpses in the streets, Troghob recognized a face.

Orcs do not have tear ducts and the water leaking from the half-orc's eyes as he fell to his knees was just the weakness that Grooku needed to play his hand. He cried out against the leader and received a cacophony of mutinous agreements.

Troghob could feel the contempt radiating from his once-followers. It mingled with his grief and flowed with hatred for Grooku and his evil talk. The negative energy running through his mind and body ebbed violently against his resolve and ate away at his sensibility. He could felt nothing but anger. His conscious mind slipped away and he fell into a bloodrage.

He awoke an indeterminable amount of time later at an unknown location remembering nothing of the bloodrage, but none of these details mattered. For weeks he wandered the wilderness, surviving like an animal, carrying only shredded clothes and the holy symbol of St. Cuthbert. One day found him close to starvation. He came across a quiet hamlet and was desperate enough to beg its residents for food at the risk of being killed on sight as an orc. To his good fortune, the villagers, mostly halflings and humans, opened their doors to him -- a half-elf named Sharon particularly taking pity on him. She invited him into her home and insisted he remain until he returned to good health.

St. Cuthbert demanded that a good deed deserved another in exchange. As Troghob's strength returned, he began to assist Sharon in the fields. There he mingled with the other villagers, and found himself quickly accepted. This was a new situation for him: humans and like races has always shunned him, while among orcs he was never anything less than a leader. His life had always been full of battle and antagonism; now, in this quiet sanctuary, he felt at peace.

It would not last long. His orcish blood continually longed for battle, so a peaceful life could not be his destiny. The itch now plagued him and he began to go on long treks into the wild, hunting ferocious predators to battle. This behavior worried even the carefree villagers, though they were too polite to say anything of it. Then, Troghob returned from one such trip to find a crowd outside Sharon's door and the half-elf bleeding heavily into the sheets of her bed.

There had been an accident in the field. She was injured beyond the care of conventional medicine. Troghob had been trained as a cleric. There was only one thing to do. The half-orc raised his holy symbol, uttering a prayer to the saint, and placed a healing hand upon the woman's wound. But as the cure spell formed, Troghob realized that something was very wrong. Before he could react, dark energy crackled out along Sharon's body from his contact point and the half-elf screamed in high-pitched agony. Even as he broke contact and stepped away she writhed as if experiencing uncontrollable pain. This went on for several seconds, enough time to gather the onlookers, before Sharon slumped lifeless into the mattress.

Perhaps the villagers would not have attacked Troghob or run him out of town. Perhaps they would have understood that he had no control over what had transpired. Perhaps, with time, he would have been forgiven. But Troghob would never know, for as the onlookers gaped silently in horror at their fallen neighbor, the half-orc was already dashing out of the hamlet. A peaceful life could not be his destiny. He understood exactly what had happened. He had used the name of his deity to lead a campaign of evil, to kill innocents, to destroy order, and now St. Cuthbert had taken his revenge. The half-orc would no longer be allowed to use his divine magic to help or heal, only to hurt and destroy.

Troghob understood now that he could not live in either society, man's nor orc's. He was a man, he was an orc, yet he was neither; as true an outcast as it was possible to be.

He became a wanderer, and then an adventurer, living on the fringes of civilization. Eventually, St. Cuthbert returned some of his healing abilities -- if he prayed specifically for such magic at the beginning of a day he sometimes received it in limited amounts. But whenever he performed an evil act or considered chaotic thoughts, the deity transformed the healing powers into harmful ones. And so Troghob's life became, or perhaps it had always been, a delicate balance between extremes -- good and evil, law and chaos, man and orc.