Óri Amnán, Injerin, Prowler

I've been gone for a long period of time and thought it best to repost the charakter. My old char desc can be found here:

No serious changes, just correcting typos and editing some minor things.

Title/Class/Type: Prowler

Name: Óri Amnán "Orcfriend"
Elven name: Cárán'efér

Gender: Female

Heritage: Injerín Elf, raised, enslaved and released by Ashz-Oc

Age: 82

Height: about 1 ped and 2 fores and 1 palmspan high With 1.75 peds she is significantly smaller than expected from an Injerín elf due to malnutrition in childhood and harsh life.

Weight: 1 pygge, 4 hebs

Shape/Build: rather slim but with surprisingly strong, snakelike muscles under her skin for an elf

hair: dark, dyed in an Earthern red color and worn in wild plaits or dreadlocks orcen style

Appearance:
Ori Amnan combines the slenderness of the Elven kind with the necessity to grow an unusual amount of steelwired muscles to survive in an environment where even most children were considerably stronger and more sturdy than her. Her face has thus lost the innocent beauty most elves inherited but show the rough signs of hard labour. She dyes her dark hair red and wears it plaited or as dreadlocks, tied together in various Ashz-Oc styles with hair needles and leather straps.

Her left arm shows an unique tattoo of orcish origin marking that she once belonged to a clan and was freed later on. It runs from the shoulder down to her hand and consists of an array of magical runes meant to protect the bearer from any harm and show any Ashz-Oc that she is protected by Oaths with an Ashz-OC clan.

A small scar cuts through her right eyebrow, her skin is tanned unusually brown by the sun and exhaustive labor. More scars all over her body indicate the hard life and abuse she had to endure growing up as servant to Orcs. Most outstanding however are the deep streaks left from Orcish claws that run from her collar bone over her left shoulder. Probably noticeable by a capable healer would be that various bones were broken over the years and put back together again.

Her blue Elven eyes has lost some of their glow. Despite everything she is still has a brittle if not exotic appearance that might be somehow appealing. Not in Elven standards, though, especially in Southern Sarvonia where her appearance would be most likely considered barbaric and uncivilized.

Clothes and Equipment:
Her clothes are made of self-sewn leather and fur. Only the gray slightly beige undershirt is of rough cotton. She usually wears trousers and vest made of deer hide, patched together for repair and to strengthen the leather at the knees and shoulders. Her boots are among the most precious things she owns. The inner side is covered by dense rabbit hides and the
soles are nailed for better grip. Two metal clasps make them more stable. They're pretty warm in summer but perfect in winter.
On two belts she carries most everyday stuff, a one fore long hunting dagger, a herb bag and a water skin.
She has a backpack that contains various other things including a leather winter coat that is also water resistant and serves her as sleeping cover.
Finally she owns an Orcish Warbow made of wood and horn and a quiver with arrows, arrowheads and other replacement parts. It is usually unmounted as she uses it most of the time for hunting food, not as defense.

Strengths/Weaknesses:

-She is physical stronger than Elves normally would be, surprisingly so for unsuspecting strangers - about the human average now - this obviously doesn't make her stronger than most though, just surprisingly strong for an elf.

-She knows the principles of orcish shamanism though she barely learnt more than the theory.

-She knows something about Orcish ways of healing in how to crudely patch up wounds of any severity or depths. The results are unusual and better than nothing but possibly not comparable with real healers. especially since her knowledge is based on the sturdy built and regenerative powers of orcs.

-She has the senses of an Elf.

- She is very sturdy for a an elf shaking off injury or beatings others would wince at. This is based mainly on her muscle built and a high pain tolerance due to her raising and won't fundamentally change the damage inflicted on her.

-Other Elves probably think of her as inferior, barbaric and uneducated in the moment they recognize the tattoo on her arm. In the eyes of an elf she lacks all qualities of her kind.
At best, Southern Sarvonian elves not knowing the Ashz-Oc that well and other Santharian folk might take her for a twisted Darkelf!

-She is hot-tempered and is easily getting aggressive(=seeking trouble) as you don't survive in Orc societies without a certain display of strength in all situations. In civilized areas this comes along as wild and primitive. For most people she might look like a psycho in such situations and not very rational or sociable...

- she is uneducated, cannot read and nor speak Styrásh. She can barely talk Tharanian, most is a mess of words she caught up in her travels without grammar or punctuation. She can however talk orcish. This might make her look more stupid and uneducated than she actually is given all Santharia speaks Tharanian and elves naturally are living there,

Skills:
- weak in swordplay, she knows the pointy thing belongs inside the person you fight, but she has no technique nor style
- mediocre in unarmed fighting (capable compared to a bar brawl but this mainly based on persistence rather than skill)
- mediocre in archery (some talent but all self-taught so no sure shot, probably above mediocre compared to a human)
- some knowledge of hunting, tracking and gathering from wandering all alone through the wilderness before making way South

pre history:
Decades ago the clan of the "Wild Boar" clan of the Ashz-Oc living between the Skeleton coast and the Liben river was called by allied clans to retaliate an attack by the Injerín Elves earlier that year or simply fill up the empty storages with valuable loot. Circumstances stayed unclear but with the support of the stronger clans the Warlord of the region gained the support of a majority of the leaders and demanded the loyalty of the others.
Ashz-Naroc the leader of the "Wild Boar" clan was not pleased, primarily because he was not fond of starting trouble with the elves while living in the insecure borderlands to the Losh-Oc but also to a certain degree because he disliked the current warlord he had a personal vendetta with. So he led his clan into the vicinity of the Shaded Forest planning to raid some hamlets not deep in the forest to satisfy the oath he followed but not to risk too much.

history:
Ori Amnan - she was called differently in childhood but like most other things she has forgotten her real name - was living in a small community of Injerín close to the borders of the forest in watchful peace. Her parents were probably good rangers, at least they always slept with their bows nearby, a catastrophic habit it seems, at least in the very night her young life was about to be changed entirely.
She was mere 17 years old - a small kid in elven terms - and her mother has just sung her goodnight song. She was nearly asleep one arm wrapped around a simple puppet of a squirrel when she heard unusual noises. First steps of many boots, then the known noises of bowstring but suddenly interrupted by the terrifying screams of dieing people. Before she knew what was happening - and realized that she instinctively hid under the sheets - her mother was by her side, bow already in hand lifting her out of the hut. Her father stood ready the bow drawn aiming into the darkness his right eye maimed by an arrow that barely missed its target. The whole village was in panic. Her mother sat her down and pushed her towards the dark outlines of the trees.
"Go! Hide!" - Ori did not recognize the tears running down her cheeks. "Run, hide in the forest! We will find you! Hide till we find you!" Impatiently her mother shoved her forward while her father let an arrow fly at an unknown target. Anxious and in panic Ori did not know how she followed or even understood the orders of her mother but somehow her legs moved without her mind contributing to it. It was far too much occupied digesting by the terrifying scene before her as the first huts started to burn and dark shadows appeared between them looking like the creatures of a nightmare.

The sounds of screams, steel and indescribable war howling rose and somehow Ori started to run. The last picture of her parents, side by side, the bows drawn, burnt into her memory. She never saw them again.
She ran to the woods and further, not knowing what else to do, through the underbrush, not wanting to imagine what was happening behind her. Her small feet carried her quickly through the underbrush but soon she heard the sounds of heavy boots crushing branches and leaves. Turning her face she saw a black shape following her, his eyes glowing yellow in the darkness. She closed her grip firmer around her straw squirrel and tried to ran faster as the deep branches ripped scratches into her face. The iron boots echoed in her head as she climbed a small hill when she nearly ran into another of these creatures standing silently on the top. She slipped and her eyes wide open and breathless she fell to the ground as two intensive eyes watched her closely and then her predator.
He stepped forward, grabbed her by her elven clothes and raised her from the ground, his claw-like hands piercing her skin. The following Orc stood still as he saw Ashz-Naroc, leader of the "Wild Boar" clan standing on top of the hill.

Ori reconstructed the dialogue that must have followed later on though she was too panicked to even think a thing. The air was filled with smoke, sweat, blood and steel. However, it must have been something like that:
The other Orc cautiously came closer. "Give me that child Ashz-Naroc! I hunted it first!" - "But I caught it first, Bruun-Novre!" - "Belog-Novre granted us all the slaves and goods we find in that village. They were tougher than we thought! I demand that child in exchange for my brother's son! Give it to me!" - "Belog-Novre granted you the slaves while we were meant to cleanse this area from scouts. And he gets all the loot and slaves. Belog-Novre is treacherous scum! Leave before I skin you, Bruun-Novre!" -"Don't you dare! My clan will have your head! Give me the child! I want to taste its flesh! Smell its blood! Its parents killed my brother's son!" - the response was only a dreadful growl and hissing from the other hillside, the pursuing Orc was already heavily outnumbered as the rest of the "Wild Boar" clan gathered around their leader the warbows drawn and ready.
"Tell your Belog-Novre, I'll take this child as compensation for my sixth son, Chrall-Narok, who was killed by the Longears. This raid is below our honour. Belog-Novre shall care for his security himself when he cannot raid a single Longear hamlet alone. We have fulfilled our oath! He might finally fight one honourable battle when the Longears are after him!"
With these words he lifted Ori around her waist and left.

Ori does not remember much about the week in which the warriors took her back to their homeland. She did not know what was happening to hear and feared every move and word from this inferior creatures. She learnt that they were amused when she backed away from any movement they did. She learnt that they made fun of her because they knew it would fill her eyes with tears. They thought she was weak and ugly and clumsy and will probably never serve a purpose beyond cleaning the rooms. They might have made jokes why Ashz-Nakor has decided to take her as slave with them at all, but Ashz-Nakor was too strong and powerful to be tempted with such bad humor, especially with a bloodwar smoldering between the clans of Ashz-Nakor and Belor-Novre.
Somehow the Orcs kept her alive, fed her, kept her warm and brought her to the village of the "Wild Boar", a settlement of wooden huts and a few shaky stone buildings. Without shame did Ashz-Narok carry her the last miles as her feet were ignited though it must have been a great humiliation for an Orc otherwise. He carried her to a hut covered in moss somewhat ontop a hill at one end of the village. Six Orcs were coming out of the hut, brighteyed and oliveskinned like most Ori had encountered. One elder one - one of the few Orcs with grey hair - accompanied by three female Orcs who were slightly more slender and smaller - but just as terrifying to a small elven kid - and a very young couple. It were Atroth- and Zegev-Nakor, the shaman and his apprentice and their wives.
Ashz-Nakor put her onto the ground and hold her steady as she nearly stumbled thanks to her wounded feet. He hailed the group and made some comments and then shoved her towards them. Ori hesitated - while she feared this Orc leader as much as anyone else he was at least somewhat known to her. Anxious she looked back at him but he only growled at her and pointed to the house, obviously meant to become her new home, somehow. The old shaman was already returning into the house his oldest wife and the young couple staying outside waiting for her the younger man obviously a bit worried what kind of joke that was supposed to be.
Slowly Ori hobbled towards the entrance - not knowing what else she should do and tried to keep control of her wet eyes. She had learnt by now that these creatures had no sense for pity and laughed at those that showed weakness.
With stone-like faces the Orcs waited all the way till she entered the house. There the shaman had already waited with some herbs and potions to tend her wounded leg. Nothing personal intended, for him it was only the necessity to repair his new property to put it to good use so it would be worth the food and heat they would waste on it...

From this time on Ori lived in fear adapting the strange and frightening rules of a race that was born to live and die in the cause of honor and fire. Atroth-Nakor was the fair but unforgiving teacher of her first time among the Ashz-Oc. What she learnt early was not to show any emotions despite the duties she might have to overcome or the punishment she received for not fulfilling them correctly. A young elf might not have proven much worth but Atroth-Nakor was the shaman of the clan and thus had many tasks for someone with outstanding senses like an elf. The women defied her as they saw in her only someone worth enough doing housework but not someone strong enough for the more tiresome works in the everyday life.Only showed a glimpse of sympathy as if he accounted her as an interesting little creature with very interesting talents to learn from.

Her first ten years in the clan under the protection of the shaman and the clanleader was nevertheless a painful time as the other children of the village - of course everyone of them - razzed her steadily and showed their superior strength only stopping when a glaring, angry Zegev appeared to scatter the crowd. But the most humiliating for Ori was the fact that they looked down on her for being backward under their impression as she grew only marginally over the years. Soon enough she felt stupid and "wrong" herself, not knowing if she was developing so slow because herself or racial traits were that way. But it occurred only after these ten years of hard labor to recognize the real difference between her race and Orcs. In the ten years the children that had razzed her had grown to adults, some even got killed in battles already and began to show the distinctive marks of growing age and experience and after these ten years Atroth-Nakor was on the brink of death with mere 65 years, a more than honourable age for an Orc.

At one of these days Atroth - usually a rigorous teacher of all orcish ways - invited Ori to his sleeping place. He had not left the bed for the last few days and as Ori entered the room he was shocked to see how weak and pale he had grown with sleek fingers and bony arms. Weakly he tried to get but only croaky coughs escaped his throat. And though Ori was a mere servant in his house and despite the way she was "adopted" into his house she could do nothing else than rush to the bed and help him seat comfortable. In his ways he was fair and honest. As soon as he managed to control himself he pushed her back, embarrassed by the weakness that has slipped through. Even in death he was not willing to be humiliated. Ori sat on the ground where she fell fearing to have angered the Orc seriously.

But Atroth only sighed briefly looking down on her from his place.
"Don't help, there's no way to help anyway." he croaked but the glared with his bright eyes - which nearly glowed in the darkness of his hut - at her honestly. "You know the difference between Orcs and Elves?" he continued after a short break. "I tell you. You only exist in this world while we live it. An Orc can accomplish in ten years more than an elf could do in a century but his life rushes onward as fast as the blood pulses through us." Atroth looked at her watching he slender appearance as if he tried to look the first time at her from a non-Orcish point of view. Ori was about 40 by now, maybe 10 in appearance and maybe a bit older in human terms. She wore her hair dozens of braids that were tied in a tight knot the female Ashz-Oc preferred when working in house or the fields.Obviously he liked what he saw as Atroth chuckled looking at her again, but then he turned serious again.
"I don't know if you understand by now why Ashz-Nakor gave you to me but in my eyes he was too eager in paying his debts. One of my children was killed by his fault in the many skirmishes that he lead to strengthen the position of the "Wild Boar" clan and he repaid my loss with you. In fact he has done it as well to offend the Novreclan but the debts by a shaman weigh deep as well so this idea must have been most fitting to him." Atroth turned around a bit to eye her still innocent face more comfortably. "However he left me with a bit of a problem now... You Longears live too long. He repaid me a life, with an orcish lifespan to work for me in place of my son but you'll be still alive when my grandchildren will have turned back to the dust the Sun used to melted their forms in the first place. I cannot deny such a gift from a leader, but I cannot keep someone like you for an eternity when none of the clan will remember why you became part of it in the first place. Thus..." he pointed to Zegev who had silently entered the room. "... I told him to release you from our bounds after one lifetime of our race. Another fifty summers will pass and then you'll have the best of 4 more Orcish lifespans to live your life or better.... as it is the way of your race: simply be."

Atroth bend away from her showing that his speech was finished and exhausted he turned to sleep again. Puzzled, Ori looked at Zegev but he only showed the wicked equivalent to a smile and he stepped closer to her his eyes glaring ever more furiously in the dark room. "A life for a life. It is agreed then. However I inquire a small price for this if only as a sign of false gratitude. You might get more things to do then before but I assure you it might be very interesting... for both of us!" he assured still smiling. A very unnatural thing for an Orc!

Officially Zegev-Nakor, new shaman of the "Wild Boar" clan just took over the hut of Atroth and all his belongings has he died - as it was custom being killed by his successor when he couldn't stand up anymore - and thus also took the responsibility for Ori Amnan as part of these belongings.
Unofficially however Zegev was more curious to learn more about elves, their way of thinking and their way of magic in general. To do that he more or less treated her like he'd treated an apprentice not a servant. She learnt from him a great deal about herbs and how to cure wounds and sickness the orcish way even though she had little talent for it. These methods were often crude and more than painful but compared to other ways of conventional healing pretty effective. But he also spend long time showing her the way he was working his magic and spent even more time to think about what she needs to do different in order for her elven powers to work. While Ori did not know why he even bothered to teach her something which in her eyes showed minimal to no success she enjoyed the many spectacular tricks he knew to show the art of fire magic.
In many ways these years were the happiest as far as her memory goes and though the gap of two entirely different species remained between them she accounted Zegev and his wife as some family of sorts.

One night Ori was sleeping bad in one corner of the hut. She thought she had heard something. When she got up to see what it was she recognized Zegev and his wife already peaking into the darkness. "What is it?" Ori dared to whisper but Zegev was already scenting his nostrils blowing. "Something is out there. Someone!" he smelled the air for another few moments and then one angry growl escaped his throat. "LOSH-OC!" The answer was an arrow piercing the door just in front of him. Angrily Zegev took the arrow and broke it into pieces and threw them back into the darkness.

It was the first time Ori felt the feel of powerful magic wave over her body. She had felt similar whenever Zegev has shown her one of his tricks but this time Zegev used all his powers and the forces glowed like fire in her mind. A bright flare of light enlightened the whole scene and Ori caught a first glimpse on the Losh-Oc. Were Ashz-Oc in war colours already frightening enough the Losh-Oc exceeded this by far. After a few seconds Zegev’s light diminished and the ferocious faces disappeared all but for the intense eyes that even glared in the night. Zegev’s magic held the Losh-Oc at bay and more and more Ashz-Oc joined to defend the settlement. Like furies both sides attacked each other using their weapons, their claws and even their teeth and in the rising chaos Ori lost sight of Zegev but she still felt him working magic. Confused she tried to evade the combatants as good as possible and luckily none recognized her in the first place. Hiding behind a barrel she watched as the battle raged. Then she noticed a young Ashz-Oc warrior taking on two Losh-Oc at a time. It was Brejil-Nakor, son of the clanleader, using his broadsword with great skill. But a third Losh-Oc was sneaking up behind him to use their odds. Without really knowing what she was doing she left her cover and yelled “STOP!” at the Losh-Oc to alert Brejil and maybe distract the other orc. However, the effect was slightly more than she expected. The Losh-Oc stumbled as if he was hit by something and angrily turned his attention to the unexpected enemy. When he realized it was only a small elven girl he just shook himself once more and then stormed at Ori Amnan with inhuman speed. Ori was not slow herself but she barely saw the Orc coming as he crossed the mere ten peds in what looked like two jumps. Her left shoulder exploded in pain as he stroke her with his claws and she spinned in disorder into the next stone wall. Before she even realized that it was blood that poured over her arm the orc prepared to give her the final blow and was killed within the blink of an eye by Brejil who had managed to cross the distance nearly as quickly as him.
Ori did barely manage to breath, but she managed to notice Brejil looking a bit puzzled at her before waving a few women out of their hiding place to bring her into safety before she dropped unconsciousness.

The Losh-Oc did not succeed in their raid, but they killed nearly a dozen of the clan including the successor of Ashz-Nakor who was maimed by the Losh-Oc leader himself. Brejil-Nakor took his place without much trouble. The clan was in too much disorder to start quarrel about succession. It normally wouldn’t have concerned Ori anyway but he also did not forget how he survived the night himself. When she woke up her wounds were tended but she felt a burning on her right shoulder, too. Stretching her head as her right eye was bandaged as well she saw the fresh marks of a tattoo on her skin. Before she could get a clearer vision a strong Orcish hand pushed her head back into the bed.
“Brejil thinks he owes you the best treatment he could get.” told her a familiar voice “and he wants to honour your courage by granting you his protection.” Ori managed to caught a glimpse of her right arm that was now decorated by shamanistic shapes and various magical symbols. “It did help to cure you as well.” Through her blurry vision she made out the head of Zegev who had another of his not very orcish, wicked smiles on his face. “And you need to tell me how you accomplished that honour…”

In the following years everything continued as usual, though Ori now was something more than the shaman’s slave but nearly something considered a clanmember thanks to the determined intervention of Brejil-Nakor. She did not realize this at first but while the amount of hard labour remained, everyone had to work anyway, the Orcs treated her with a minimum of respect. Zegev tried to improve her magic but though he managed to make her control it better he know he was stuck with his knowledge about magic and Ori just did not feel like this skill was improving beyond the moving of wind somewhere which left her dizzy for hours even after hard training.
In the meantime Zegev grew old as well. And for a second time she realized that she was very much different from the people she lived with. She did not talk much with anyone about it but it was clear for her that she was not sure how much more generations of clanmembers she could cope to see pass while she looked still like a teenager to most.

One day she was hunting rabbits in the underbrush of the nearby forest - one of the new freedoms she eagerly exploited as it was far less boring than work on the fields or gathering herbs. She was just preparing some poor victims that got caught in the traps she had prepared the day before when she heard the cracking of branches in the underbrush. Soon enough she identified the sounds as the footsteps of someone sneaking through the woods. Ori pretended to have recognized nothing while she prepared the hunting knife in her hand for any kind of uninvited visitor. She did know much about fighting but it was not that the decades she had spent in an Orc settlement were wasted for nothing. So when she noticed the time of the attack she was already up and ready… and behaved quite different from what the Orc expected a sane elf to do. Ori crashed into the Orc in full swing and rammed the dagger into his body evading his sword swing. Ori lost the grip on the knife and stumbled backwards against a tree trunk. She watched the orc winding on thaw ground before she managed to gather enough courage to move again after the shock. It was an orc from the Novre clan! The feud has never been ceased and this orc was obviously out for revenge as no Orc would have sneaked into another clan territory fully armed. Ori got enough wits to gather her belongings and run for it, knowing that the “Wild Boar” clan needs to know about it.

It took her some courage to tell Bejil what she had done but despite all her worries Bejil took her story without any complaint. He was an old leader by now and had enough own quarrels with the Novre to know that this bloodwar was about to break out again, only the circumstances were quite different. “Zegev is dying.” He plainly said, “and if he would not the Novres would nevertheless try something. Our clan has grown weak in they eyes of the others and an old shaman without apprentice is not helping much.” This was true, Zegev only wanted to be left alone the last days and even refused to let anyone near except Brejil. Brejil stood up from his place and walked over to a wooden panel at the wall harbouring an old warbow. "I guess as Zegev is too weak to still see you it is up to Brejil to fulfill the oath that binds you to the clan. Atroth only accepted your services for one of our lifetimes, not yours, so I think the time you have to stay with us is nearing its end. And as your capture will be a major part in the feud between Nakor and Novre it will be best if you won’t be here anymore when our clans face each other” Silently he takes the warbow and a quiver from the panel and hands it over to her. “I regret to tell you this, but the “Wild Boar” clan cannot guarantee the safety of yours so take this gift as repayment for our failure to guard someone who is nearly one of us. And now go. Leave by tomorrow!” Beside all the time Ori had spent among the Orcs she was nevertheless shocked by the seriousness he spoke about death, his responsibilities and the way how honour drove him to just announce her freedom and throw her out of the clan. And a certainty froze Ori: He did not expect the “Wild Boar” clan to win and thus wanted to solve as many open bills of his clan as he probably could.

Ori wanted to say something but she simply couldn’t. Any thing, only one word, would’ve insulted him, it was not the way of an Orc to sunk into self pity or expect any from someone else. So she silently took his gift, packed the sparse belongings she had and left the other day.

Then to now
With the great determination of someone who has no clue where to go but knows she cannot stay she made way for the borders of the Ashz-Oc territory. She quickly learnt to life off the wild gathering herbs or berries and even catching small prey. Most of the time she avoided other creatures going loosely into a western direction.
She somehow maintained herself by keeping to the countryside, only visiting hamlets or villages when she had caught or gathered more food than she could eat and exchanging it for something she needed and became a passable hunter, at times even being asked to help track some animals or similar though she never stayed long enough to build up lasting relationships with all the strangers around her.