Strange World of Random Doom
Gronck was born into a very harsh, very real life in severe juxtaposition with his surroundings. Typical of his kind, he is a child of rape. His mother was a saintly soul who endured, for even though she was treated most foul, she would not give up on life. She birthed the half-orc in a cave whose walls were studded with gemstones of all shapes and colors. She would bring Gronck there when they could slip away from the orcs and other half-orcs for a few precious moments of peace. It was their own secret fantasy. On Gronck’s sixth birthday, they were returning from the bejeweled cave when a group of orcs from their mountain settlement came upon them. They were enraged to find one of the slaves roaming free. Gronck could not bear to see his mother tortured and raped again. He grabbed her hand and pulled her ahead of the pursuing orcs. The lead orc wielded a massive two-handed sword which he brandished wildly. As they scrambled up a steep slope of loose stone, they were caught in a landslide along with the orcs that chased them. When the stones stopped bouncing and the dust settled, Gronck was the only one who moved. His mother was buried beneath a mountain of stone. For Gronck there was no escape from reality as he lie cut, battered, and bruised atop the debris.
When the half-orc opened his eyes, he found he was looking up to the sky over the black basalt peaks of the mountain. I’m just a poor orc, he thought to himself. I have no time for, or need of sympathy. If I am to survive for my mother it must be easy come and easy go. Nothing about his life had been easy, and it had been nothing but the little highs he got when he snuck away with his mother, and little lows when he would be helpless to do anything but standby as she was forced to serve the very monsters he shared blood with. He decided then and there that to make it he would have to roll with life’s punches. Wherever the wind blows, he wouldn’t let it matter to him. As he slipped and stumbled down off the slope, a glint of metal caught his eyes. The sword the lead orc had carried. Gronck picked it up. The P’Rorul Peaks were not the sort of place to go around unarmed.
Two years later, Gronck had managed to not only survive, but after a year of scrounging and living in isolation on the peaks, he had spent the last year making his way down the mountains and into the lower hills were life was a bit easier. He would also encounter his first human settlement. As he was out foraging and hunting he came across a woodsman. The man saw nothing more than the green of his skin and the big sword he carried and hurled an axe at him. It thudded harmlessly into the ground behind him, but the man was already knocking an arrow. His orcish instincts kicked in and in two quick steps it was over. Gronck wept as the rage subsided. He cried out to his dead mother. Mama! I just killed a man! I put my sword against his head, sliced through his throat and now he’s dead! Mama! My life had just begun. I have finally made it to good lands with good people, but now I’ve gone and thrown it all away. When he could stand, he wiped the tears from his eyes, although it didn’t really help his vision. He was as good as blind beyond more than a few feet anyways.
Weeks later, as Gronck had moved on, he found himself in the small village of Ludido. A blind woman there had recently lost her own son. Surely she could tell Gronck was not human, as he spoke nothing but orcish. Still, she must have sensed the heart of the half-orc, for she took him in and treated him as family. Maganhildi taught him enough words of the human language to communicate as well as how to live without depending on sight. Most of all though, she taught him compassion. She reminded him so much of his own mother, he wondered at times if it wasn’t her inside this woman’s body. At the age of sixteen, after living in the small village for as long as he lived on the mountain he had grown restless. The orc in his blood could not stay put and live a domestic life. With a heavy heart, he announced his intention to leave. Maganhidli, his foster mother, broke down in tears. Although she agreed with his decision she would still miss him, for she did truly care for the young man. Mamma, I didn’t mean to make you cry. If I’m not back again this time tomorrow, carry on. Carry on as if nothing matters. Enjoy life to its fullest and fear nothing. Gronck departed for Oloseta on the Kalamaran Bay.
The larger town meant more people that took issue with his heritage. Gronck let is wash over him though for the most part. Most took his easy going attitude for gullibility and many took advantage of it. Still, he let his deeds speak for him and soon the people of that town grew to accept him, even if they could not all be called friends. Two years later he had worked his way to the big city of Bet Kalamar where he heard of a mysterious floating isle that roamed the seas.