Hmm. The thought rushed through Kaltukk's mind. The ability to bring back his tribe, to gain anything he's ever desired! All could be his if he did it. If he killed one of these prisoners. It would be quick. There would be no pain.
A dwarf.
Humans.
An elf.
No dishonor would be brought on his name. Only his soul. They had saved him from his cell. They had saved him from the undead. They had saved him from the wurm. But what had his horde, his family done for him?
Memories rush back into his mind. Orcs rush back into their camp. He was pushed and shoved into the entrance by fleeing Orcs. Dishonorable. Just as he reached the front gate, the center camp had burst into flames. The Orcs flew into the opposite direction. The Dwarves, the Humans, and even the Elves were rushing after them.
One by one, the mighty Orc horde fell. Kaltukk managed to outrun his brothers, since he was put on reserves as they did not trust on his martial ability. He hid in a dark cave to rest, but even then had he no respite. He was clawed by the rodents and bitten by snakes and spiders. Then, they found him. The Elite Hordeguards took Kaltukk away and brought him before the Warpriests.
"Disgraceful!" "Pitiful!" "Coward!" the crowd would jeer.
"Kalthur! For abandoning your horde when it needed you the most you have brought shame to the Orcs! As punishment you will be exiled!"
Exile? Be merciful, say death! he kept chanting mentally throughout the trial.
"But your pain does not end now! You will be branded with the name: Kaltukk! Coward! Bastard! Traitor! And you shall be forever scarred. You will bear the pain of the Orcs with you till the end of your days!"
The guards prodded him to stand, and they brought a hought metal blade to his face. Then, a slash. Pain and blood coursed through his body. Another slash. He had trouble standing. Another slash, and another. After thirty minutes of savage torture, they threw him into the desert.
To any person, the scars very closely resembles battle-wounds, a fact that Kaltukk of states to be the reason of his wounds. But to an Orc, a shiver would be sent down their spine. Their immediate reaction would be to spit in the other direction.
Kaltukk just wants it back. His honor. His kin. If, maybe, he brought them back. They might forgive him. But...it is not his fault. It is not his fault that the weak Warpriests do not care for our kind! It is not his fault that his kind-no, those Orcs, have lost! The entire horde, all of them, are not worth the lives of these people!
A tear drops on the orb. He looks at it in anger, and holds it to his face. He holds up his totem, created from the bones of Orcs of generations past, and crushes it.
"Orb. Your sick ways remind me of someone I used to know. I'm sorry, but your deal is too risky. You may help us, and I will help you with anything else, but I will not leave my comrades again. I must first know more about you, and seeing as though you won't give it up lightly, I'll figure out something else."
Suddenly, he hears the group talking to someone. The voice is different. he hears things about magic and artifacts so he takes the orb to there to ask more about it.
((Sorry if you guys wanted me to actually fight. It's just that I've been fighting my party members in some games in the past few days. Both fights were entirely unneeded. And sorry about the wall of text. I just wanted to decline while having a backstory to go with it. Aaand the fact that I haven't RPed alot in the game))