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On top of a lightly armoured snarling wolf larger than a horse, rides an orc of average height and build, but heavily muscled, with skin that seems almost scaled. Strapped to his back is a four foot stick, studded with fangs, bones and sharp stones, the wood stained from the spilt blood of his foes. He loosely carries a spear, tipped like his sword. Wearing no armor but a thick hide tunic, he affixes you with a terrifying stare through the eyes of his painted mask. If he does not fell you for his safety, a bauble, or just the fun of it, he may consider revealing his face. If you are that lucky, you will see a rather attractive face, for an Orc. If you've gotten that far on his good side, you'll quickly realize that he's a serious jerk; egocentric, misogynistic and a curse for every other word.
The fear that he wields as a weapon is not much more than a shield, protecting him and the one true friend he has in the entire world; his mount, Orlan. As a child, he was despised, as he was an insufferable braggart, which combined with the fact that he was born under a constellation of ill-portent. He lived on the outskirts of the tribe, living off of the scraps of the hunt, like the giant beasts he befriended.
One day, after snagging a small piece of meat, Borgnak was ambushed by an obviously starving young giant wolf. He, in a blind panic, threw some meat at it, which it ran off with. Borgnak chased after it for a minute or two, but quickly lost it's trail. He returned to camp hungry and defeated.
The next day, he prepared himself for his daily torment at the hands of the children of the current orcs. As they approached menacingly, a growl came from behind him. The youngling and Borgnak stood fast, each staring down the aggressors. Time stopped for a moment as the children's brains went into overdrive, trying to see if they could take the wolf and the enraged child. It turned out that two is great than five, so they quickly turned and ran.
With a new found confidence, the pair walked straight up to the feasting adults, and snagged two servings of meat, in front of their stunned eyes. As he walked away, they stood and moved after him. He and Orlan broke into a run. As Orlan began to speed away, Borgnak had an idea, a strange thing for an Orc. He jumped onto Orlan's back, receiving only a small growl.
From that day on, Borgnak and Orlan were inseparable. Together, they rose in the eyes of the tribe. They became exemplars, representing a height of general Orcishness, as of yet unseen in his tribe.
More than some of that Orcishness comes from the fear he extrudes. It would be intelligent to put that blame on his practice wielding terror, but most Orcs are not intelligent, so they attribute the fear to the stars under which he was born. This is only exaggerated by the occasional accident that is vaguely connected to him. He shrugs at this accusation and asks if they are blaming him of anything.
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Topic: Pathfinder; A feral foray. (Read 22501 times)