Tharoc Wargrider/Ashz-oc Orcs/Adventurer

Utterly awesome Thar! Basically all I have to point out are spelling mistakes. Look for the orange.

Name: Tharoc Wargrider (Clan title: Tharorc Rochok)

Gender: Male

Age: 30 (Although he is unsure about this himself)

Race: Tharorc (half orc, half elf)

Tribe: Ashz-oc orcs, Ice Elves of Iol

Occupation: Adventurer and Compendium Researcher

Title: Gadabout

Overview: Having been raised by his orc father and elf mother to be accepting of all races, Tharoc set off in search of adventure soon after completing his tribal weapons training, leaving his parents and twin sister to look after the clans Warg farm. He has only returned twice since, once to attend his father’s funeral, and the second to watch his sister be accepted into the Council of Elders, the first Ashz-oc female to be granted this honour.
After much travelling and many adventures, he found himself at the greenhouses of the University of Lorehold, where his many exotic and unusual specimens proved his value as a travelling researcher.

Height: 1 ped, 2 fores, 1 palmspan, 6 nailsbreadths

Weight: 1 pygge, 6 hebs, 1 hafeb

Hair colour: Black

Eye colour: Reddish-brown

Physical appearance: Tall for an orc, which undoubtedly stems from his mother, Tharoc is powerfully built but not overly muscular as some orcs. He is considered handsome by some, even non-orcish women find him strangely attractive in a rough kind of way, although he is too naive in the ways of females to realise it.
Another elven trait he seems to have inherited from his mother is his high cheekbones, almost unheard of in an orc. His tusks are also much shorter than usual, a fact which caused him to be the butt of many of his classmates jokes at the military school.
He keeps his head shaved all over, apart from a circular patch atop where his long, coarse black hair is worn tied with leather thongs into many braids, which themselves are knotted together into his clans traditional design. He has numerous tattoos and scarrings about his body, including his tribal emblem (the outline of a mountain with a flame burning inside it), his clan emblem (an angular representation of a warg head, drawn using a single line), and many others which serve as reminders of the places he has visited on his travels or events which befell him. He also has large bone rings through both ears which are placed sideways on to the normal piercing, so that the ring sits inside the hole, creating a tunnel through each lobe, large enough to poke even one of his stubby fingers through.

Clothing: A vakran-warg fur waistcoat, tied with hide thongs across the front. A pair of leather breeches which are to short, reaching to mid-shin. A pair of stout leather boots, lined with tarep fur and laced with (you guessed it!) hide thongs, they reach up his legs to just below the breeches. He also has a couple of rough woollen shirts which he saves for special occasions or extremely cold weather, a full-length heavy cloak woven from wison hair for protection from the rain, and a pair of leather riding gloves (a gift from the Elders to mark his departure). He also wears a specially made belt across his upper back where he hides 4 throwing knives. 2 more are tucked into leather bands which he wears on each wrist, and 2 more, 1 in each boot, just in case!

Personality: Generally good-humoured, although he can, at times, be sullen and untalkative, Tharoc makes friends easily, and remains loyal and true to those friends, even through the most trying of circumstances.
Whether it be thoughts of his far-distant family or the still-lingering mistrust and aggression he is often met with which causes his occasional moodiness may never be known, as he is either unwilling, or unable, to talk about it further. When one of these moods takes hold of him, it is wise to leave him well alone, as even well-meant conversation can be taken badly at these times. Left alone, he can emerge from these darknesses as quickly as they appear, often surprising his companions with some practical japery when they least expect it.
He has become known for his ready wit as much as his scathing but well-meant sarcasm. This trait, whilst bringing levity to most, can also quickly become irritating. Tharoc himself is unaware of this, however, and therefore it is unwise to leave him alone in the company of strangers. Unless, that is, you are prepared to fight your way out.
Despite his somewhat dim-witted persona, he is entirely trustworthy and if he is asked to do something, he can be relied on to do it (except, perhaps, in the case of 'Leave the cookies alone, Tharoc'). It may take longer than anticipated, but the results will be worth waiting for.
Somewhat surprisingly for an orc, Tharoc takes (I think drinks would be a better choice of verbs here, Thar.) no alcohol at all. He tried it once, and much to the amusement of his friends, was almost immediately sick. He has never touched another drop since. He has become accustomed over the years to being invited along on 'tavern-crawls' not only for the humour he provides, but for his ability to carry two or three drunken bodies home safely afterwards.
On the whole, a jovial, well-mannered, helpful and trustworthy companion, but with 2 fists full of Ashz-oc steel, just in case!

Strengths:

He has good all-round skill with various weapons. Trained at the Ashz-oc military school where he gained the respect of his instructors as well as his classmates, Tharoc has a good working knowledge of various types of weaponry, including some non-orcen ones. This range of knowledge has, however, detracted from his mastery of all but one weapon. Whilst he can give a good account of himself against most opponents, anyone with a certain degree of competence or experience will find him a far easier opponent than expected. He enjoys taking a fight to close quarters where his knives, fists, feet and head give him a distinct advantage. His coup de grace is the 'Orcs kiss', a devastatingly powerful headbutt strong enough to stop a bull Wison in its tracks.

Adept with throwing knives. Although his eyesight is not exceptional, he can see well enough to hit a fast-moving target from up to 10 peds away. He carries numerous concealed throwing blades at all times.

Fitness. His military training, working on his fathers Warg farm, and his many travels and travails have given him a high degree of fitness, which he maintains by regularly running wherever he goes. Even in a lengthy battle, Tharoc's fitness gives him an edge,<~~(comma) as he is able to carry on fighting when everyone else is exhausted.

Very strong. His orcish blood has given him strength beyond that which his size would suggest. He is capable of carrying loads which another of his size would struggle to lift. Locked doors hold no secrets from Tharoc's shoulder or boot!

Good hearing/smell. As with all orcs, Tharoc will hear or smell danger long before anyone else suspects its presence. This makes him a good nighttime sentry, but during daylight you will more than likely see it before he smells or hears it.

He has the ability to bring humour to the worst of situations. Many's the time when, faced with danger or death, he has lifted the spirits of his comrades with his quick-wit, urging them on to win the day. This can also be disconcerting to opponents, as they cannot understand how someone can be so happy at the thought of dying.

Makes friends easily and defends them quickly. He has many friends of different races throughout the continents, many of whom owe him their lives. It is a hard-heart indeed which does not soften after meeting with Tharoc. He could be a great ambassador, if it were not for his unpredictable temperament.

Teetotal. There are those within these lands who are not above using alcohol to part the unwary traveller from his precious coin, and if this proves unsuccessful some even resort to the use of potions and poisons dropped secretly into the ale of their target. This ruse would be futile with Tharoc.
With Tharoc, there is always someone to help you home after the party, and to keep you safe during it.

Can look very scary. Many's the time when a fight was about to break out, until Tharoc appeared. The sight of a large, heavily armed orc walking into a room is often enough to extinguish the hottest of tempers. If you find yourself in need of some information, just the threat of him can loosen the tightest of tongues.

Weaknesses:

Slow reactions: Despite his fitness and strength, Tharoc's size and limited mental function cause him to have slower reactions than is strictly good for him. During the heat of battle even an average opponent will be able to issue two or three strikes to Tharoc's one swipe.

Weak defence: Tharoc's training at an orcen military school was primarily focused on attack, as is the orcen way. This has led to him giving scant regard for his defensive strategies, and coupled with his slower-than-average reactions this makes him less than invulnerable.

Aversion to travelling on water: Despite drinking it in copious amounts, Tharoc has a great fear of travelling over water. This fear extends from the ocean-going ships which ply their trade around the coasts of Sarvonia, to the smallest of ferryboats which cross the rivers and streams of the inlands. Any journey undertaken which involves crossing water will render him useless for the duration of the crossing, with him gripping the rails of the vessel white-knuckled until his fingers seem to be digging into the wood itself. If you happen to be stood near him when the boat leaves shore, be sure not to leave your sword arm within his grasp!

Clumsiness. Not a good thing if you are fighting in a confined space, especially if he trips over his own feet and lands on you. He's also not the safest pair of hands for any valuable or fragile treasures you may accumulate.

He is unpredictable. Despite his seemingly easygoing manner, Tharoc can sometimes be quick to anger, finding insult, sleight or threat where none exists. You can never be sure how he will react in any given situation.

He can be too trusting of people. Having been brought up to accept all races, he has still to learn that not all people are what they seem. He is learning, but still has trouble deciding who is what. The inbred orcen ability to read body language seems to have deserted him, possibly as a result of the elven blood running in his veins.

Absentmindedness. Once given a task, he will carry it out to the very best of his ability......as long as he doesn't get distracted along the way. Even the simplest of instructions sometimes get lost on their way to his brain.

He often forgets that his orcish humour is not to the tastes of some. He has been known to take his bawdy, sarcastic humour too far on occasion, not realising that he is the only one laughing. This is not good if you are seriously outnumbered and in strange lands. Tact has never been one of his strong points. It's not a good idea to leave him on his own with strangers!

He hasn't got the best eyesight. This makes him all but useless as a daytime lookout. His hearing and smell help to even this out somewhat, but not enough.

He tends to be a little "slow on the uptake". He has trouble sometimes realising that a situation is getting out of hand. He prefers an outright threat to a subtle one, much easier to understand. You may have to explain even simple things to him several times, just to make sure he's got the idea.

He can look very scary. This can cause problems when you enter a new area for the first time. People automatically assume he's going to kill them. Although, strangely, small children seem to be fascinated by him.

His huge appetite. Tharoc is almost permanently hungry. His appetite can be a serious drain on whatever meagre resources you have available. Never leave him in charge of the provisions! He has a particular fondness for cookies, especially if freshly baked.

Undecipherable accent. Although he can understand Tharian perfectly well, when it comes to speaking it Tharoc's heavy northern accent is, at best, difficult to understand. It gets easier the longer you spend with him, but no-one has yet managed to decipher him completely, which can cause problems when he has information you need.

History:

Born at a very early age (You don’t say.

), Tharoc was raised by his parents on their warg farm in the foothills of the Prominent Mountains of Northern Sarvonia. His father, Rochok, was the head warg breeder and trainer of the Ashz-oc tribe, a role he took on with great relish after injury forced him to relinquish his position as Chief Cavalry Officer in their army. His skill with the fearsome beasts as rider, trainer and carer made him the ideal choice.

During one of his hunting trips for new breeding males, he got lost while chasing a particularly healthy specimen. When the warg had exhausted nearly all its energy, it turned to make a last stand against him. During the struggle he was thrown from his mount and broke his leg. His mount, a female warg, was also injured driving off the attacking male.

Before he fell into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw was a female elf cautiously making her way towards him, singing softly to his growling warg.
When he awoke three days later, he found himself in a makeshift shelter, his leg and cuts bandaged and splinted, and a skewered tarep roasting over a small fire. His mount, too, had a bandage around her forepaw.

Over the next couple of days, the pair managed to communicate in broken Tharian. He told her how he had come to be in the area, and she, in turn, explained that she was a healer (delete 2nd space) from the Ice Elf tribes of the Iol peninsula, hunting for plants.
By the time he was well enough to travel, they had, despite the traditional orc/elf mistrust, struck up quite a friendship.
As his warg was still not fit enough to carry him, she helped him onto her horse and insisted on accompanying him back to his village.

Despite the Ashz-oc having turned, over the preceding generations, away from their open hostility to all other races, there was still a certain amount of unease within the general population when it came to having strangers in their midst, and when Rochok arrived on horseback accompanied by his elven saviour it caused quite a stir amongst the residents. Rochok was summoned before the Council of Elders to explain the circumstances, and after much heated discussion, it was agreed that the elven healer could remain in the village for a while, as long as she tended the sick, and as long as she didn't live within the village itself, but rather on Rochok's farm. They also insisted that he should be solely responsible for her safety, and for any repercussions that may follow from her kind. Rochok agreed to these demands, and explained them to the elf in his faltering Tharian. (delete 2nd full stop). She was only too happy to take on this role, and immediately began visiting each family in turn to check their health.

Rochok was secretly happy that she would be living on his farm, and as repayment for her saving his and his mounts' lives, he built her a fine hut where she could live and practice her healing arts.
Before long, they had become more than friends, and she moved into the hut he once shared with his female.

Over the following couple of years, she turned her knowledge of medicines to the healing of Rochok's wargs, developing many potions and cures for the ailments which befell them. She even wrote the first of many parchments detailing her discoveries, a copy of which resides in the Library of the Lorehold University.

Rochok and his new partner were blessed over the next few years by the birth of first a daughter, and then Tharoc himself. It was after the birth of their second child that they decided it was time to make the long journey to her parent's home in the Forest of Contamar in the very north of Iol.

Their arrival in her home village caused almost as much of a stir as had their arrival in Rochok's settlement years before, but the elves, being better mannered than the orcs, and having been in receipt of numerous parchments detailing the healers adventures since leaving their village, ensured that they were equally well-received, even though this was the first time an orc had been into the village without murderous intentions. During their year-long stay in the elven settlement, Rochok's good nature and obvious love for his family caused the elven elders to proclaim a treaty with the Ashz-oc orcs, promising trade and good relations between the two tribes. He was presented with several eanian warg pelts as a sign of goodwill. In his turn, he taught the elves things about warg behaviour and breeding methods which they had not previously known.

This was also the time when he and his elven companion were married in the traditional ice elf ceremony. It was decided that he should forgo the trials involved, as he had proven himself a good husband already. His females' parents were delighted with the match, and welcomed Rochok into their family warmly. Tharoc and his older sister were doted upon by all, and when the time came for them to return to the Prominent Mountains, many a tear was shed.

During the return journey, Tharoc's mother took the opportunity to gather many ingredients for her healing which were rare or not available in her new homeland. As the youngest, she always took Tharoc with her on her foraging trips and it was here, at her knee, that he developed his fascination with the flora and fauna of northern Sarvonia. This was considered unusual for a male orc, but no more unusual than his older siblings' skill and knowledge of wargs and their training. This already unusual family had become even more individual by their children having swapped traditional roles!

By the time Tharoc had reached the age of eight, when his father sent him to attend the military training school, his sister was already her father's equal on the farm and had taken over much of the day to day running of it.

In his six years at the school, Tharoc proved himself a capable warrior, showing good skills with many different weapons and excelling with Ashz-oc throwing knives. He grew tall and strong during those years, and on his return home at age 14 he caused many a female head to turn as he strode purposefully along the main path through the village, his sword slung over his shoulder.
His school years were also when he adopted the name of Tharoc. As is customary amongst his tribe, he was known by his fathers name until such time as he either chose his own name or the Council of Elders bestowed one upon him. Due to his mixed-race parentage, some of his classmates took to calling him Tharorc, or half-orc, as a slight against his elven mother. This got him into many a fight, and doubtless helped him to hone the hand-to-hand combat skills he is renown for today.
In an effort to show his antagonists that their words were futile he adopted the name of Tharorc, which his friends soon shortened to Tharoc, or Thar. He was proud of his heritage, and this move proved to be the turning point as those who had previously taunted him, realising that he was orc enough to stand up for his beliefs, relented and soon became proud to call him friend.

For the next few years, Tharoc helped around the farm where he could, but it was obvious to his family that his heart lay elsewhere. The long journey to visit his grandparents in Iol had whetted his appetite for travel, and foraging for healing plants with his mother had given him a love of nature which filled him with the need to explore more of the lands beyond the mountains where he lived.
Although he enjoyed working the farm, and was good with the wargs, (as a half-breed, he had even gained the approval of the Council to raise, train and ride his own warg)(As Alt said about that comment with Valkree, if he is not going to have her at anytime then this will need to be removed.) the thought of staying in this one small place for the rest of his life was not a happy one for him. Neither was a life in the army, which his father hoped he would pursue.

One day, in his twenty-second year, he announced to his family that he was leaving the farm and going ~~the~~ to explore the lands beyond the tribal territories, perhaps even as far as the Lorehold itself. If he was nervous about their response, he need not have been. They had been waiting for this moment for a long time. His father took him before the Elders to explain his reasons for wanting to leave the tribe, and both were delighted (and not a little relieved) when they gave their permission for him to venture forth. The only thing they asked was that he represented not only the tribe, but the orc race as a whole in a positive way, in an effort to erode the mistrust and hatred of the past. Secretly, the Council were ~~were~~ more than pleased at the possibility that one of their own could become the first Ashz-oc member of the Lorehold Compendiumists. If it hadn't been for the many travellers and merchants who had taken advantage of the orcs' new-found openness, then likely they would never had heard of Lorehold or the workings of the compendium, and much less cared. But the new life they had forged for themselves in this era of reconciliation had allowed them to gain a thirst for knowledge of the outsiders and their ways. Perhaps they saw Tharoc as an ambassador for their race, or perhaps they just wanted to have their history recorded by one of their own? Whatever the reason, it was a momentous decision indeed, and one which they never regretted taking.

The next few weeks were filled with preparations for his departure. Along with his father and older sister, he had to once again appear before the Council to turn-over his traditional inheritance of his father’s farm, as well as the title of Chief Warg Breeder, to his sister. This caused some raised eyebrows amongst the Council members, as never before had a female been elevated to such a position. His father’s influence smoothed over any objections which may have been raised, however, and the Council agreed.

The time for his departure soon came, and after a grand celebratory feast, he loaded his meagre possessions onto Valkree, his warg, and set off on his adventure.

Not having any firm plans as to where he was going or what he was going to do when he got there, (something for which he has become well known), he decided to head south, away from the traditional orcen homelands, to see what the lands were like away from the snow and ice he was accustomed to.
Over the following years, many exciting, unusual and downright weird events befell him, which, once his 'unique' style of writing has been deciphered, shall be recorded here in as much detail as is deemed necessary.

Weapons:

Ashz-oc sword, complete with shamanistic emblems etched into the blade (As with most orcen shamanistic offerings, these symbols are of dubious effect, if any). Worn in a leather scabbard at his waist.

8 Ashz-oc throwing knives, 4 strapped across his upper back in a specially made belt of his own design, one tucked into each wristband, and one pushed into each boot.

He also owns an Ashz-oc longbow, made of Ironwood sapling. He rarely carries this, however, as his poor eyesight renders this weapon virtually useless.(delete 2nd full stop).

Belongings:

Apart from his clothes, sword, throwing knives and longbow, his only belongings are his specimen box, blank parchments, a stub of burnt wood for writing, and a boar-skin rucksack. He has also recently acquired a pair of fluffy pink earmuffs, although he can't remember just where they came from, or how they came to be in his possession. He tends to hide these in the bottom of his sack.

And that's it from me. But since they are basically just spelling things I think you have just got yourself a very well-earned:

First Approval

Make sure to fix everything up before the second one.

Mannix