Grim Felltooth

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Race: Orc
God: Gruumsh
Fighting since: 1989
Weapons of Choice: Bow, Red Sword, War Flail
Units: Severed Ear Dead River Horde
Current Realm: Dur-Demarion


The Legend of Grim Felltooth as told by Soong Toi' Wei


Warriors! Gather and be silent! Now is the time. The moon is dark and the fire has burned low. Here in this place, gore drenched ground sacred to Gruumsh and unknown to all of lesser blood, the tale may now be told. The legend of Grim Felltooth will be heard! Soong Toi Wei, war chief of the Severed Ear Tribe, Priest of Gruumsh, He who holds the wailing eye of Grummsh will tell the tale.

Know this! The legend of Grim Felltooth was taught to me by Gruumsh himself while I wandered the high mountains in hallowed Bloodquest, so if this tale does not match rumors of the great and mighty Grim that you may have heard it matters not, for this tale is the one true history for Gruumsh said so and if that not be good enough for you than nothing is. Now sit down and shut up for now I begin the true Legend of Grim Felltooth! Grim, like all great Orcs, was conceived in rape, but his mother was a human. No, it is true! I Swear! Grim's mother was human and he was given a human name; Anthony Attar’ Roak and he was raised among them, as a human. His early years were spent training with weapons. All weapons, for his teachers soon learned there was none he could not master. His mind they trained as well, teaching him to draw his speech and to cipher. Also did he learn tactics and strategy. These things called to his warriors soul and these things did he learn very well. During this time of growing and training Grim, or Anthony as he was then known, was indoctrinated into the worship of human gods and eventually into the clergy of the pallid and wan human gods. It was the will of his family and it brought him power so Anthony excelled at the priesthood as he did everything he put his mind to. So too did Anthony’s brother; Kaor Attar Roak, flourish. Kaor was the finest weapon smith in kingdom but a blood thirsty berserker in combat. And when the time came Anthony and his brother Kaor went into the world to seek fame, fortune and respect, and if respect was too much to ask for a Half-Orc, then Anthony Roak would settle for fear.

After many dangerous journeys down the darkest of roads and battle after bloody battle, Anthony and Kaor at last came to the land of Dur-Demarion. This was a land of constant warfare and of battle hungry lords of all nations and of all bloods. Here barbarians crossed swords with knights, knights battled elves, and it was slay or be slain. This suited the Roak brothers just fine as the tide of war flowed and ebbed in their veins like the tides in the great dark seas. In no time at all Anthony’s battle Prowess was rec¬ognized and he was much sought after in his self appointed roll of mercenary captain.

The formation of The Society of the Black Rose was the beginning of the end for Anthony Roak and the end of the beginning for Grim Felltooth. The Society was simply the finest mercenary company ever seen, and the Roak brothers filled two of the three seats of the ruling triumvirate. They were at last content. Many were the deeds and exploits of The Rose, The adventures and victories of the brothers and the Black Rose were as many and endless as they were glorious but all who hold on to their power will one day fall and in the Winter Solstice, with treachery at hand, the brothers were toppled by a boy, his witch and a half-wit elven ranger. The brothers would not serve where they had ruled and so renounced their oath to the society. They were each given a horse, a hundred silver coins and a day’s head start. For it was law at that time that when one quit the rose a death sentence was past to silence the secrets that they may have kept. No one had yet quit and lived to tell the tale. The brothers Roak meant to be the first. Kaor said goodbye and rode west into the desert never to be found or heard from again. Anthony rode north into the Godsteeth mountains, thinking that no one would track him there. In this, the dead of winter, but he was wrong. The Black Rose mercenaries caught Anthony in the high passes three weeks after the “Hunt of the Fallen Rose” had begun. Anthony made his stand on a narrow ledge where his hunters could only approach two at a time. It was two at a time the Great Blade known only as RHINOKILLER cut their lives short on top of that cold and lonely mountain. So two at a time they came at him, and two at a time they died, screaming. Yes, Rhinokiller, that sacred blade. The story has it forged five foot ten inches long and seven inches wide. A true Ogre blade. Balanced two inches from the hilt, a finer war sword never was forged but on the mountain that fateful day the Great Blade failed. The battle was hot and heavy but the cold was bone deep and in the final rays of the setting sun RHINOKILLER shattered into a thousand pieces. Each of which in the years to come were discovered as touched by Gruumsh. Sacred relics carried into eternal battle by Grim’s Honor Killers. Anthony however, stood fast. Drawing a pair of wicked blades, Anthony began defending himself in earnest, he called out to his human gods to save him but as the full moon rose above the terrible Godsteeth mountains; the heart of true Orc country, only one god would or could answer Anthony Roak’s plea for power. It was HE WHO NEVER SLEEPS, GRUUMSH the one eyed Lord of the Orcs! Time stopped, the earth shook and as the moon shined down upon the battle, the face of the mountain became the face of Gruumsh, a thousand span of snow covered granite groaned and grinded itself into the one eyed visage of our lord, and he spoke; "WHAT DO YOU WANT FOOL ORC?!"

"I am no orc, and I want nothing from you Lord One Eye." answered Anthony. "I call on true and powerful gods to aid me in this my time of need."

"TRUE? HA! POWERFULL? HA! THEN WHERE ARE THEY, THESE TRUE AND POWERFULL GODS YOU WHIMPER TO ORC? ! "

"They ... The’re...” “I have been forsaken, my honor must be lost for I renounced my vows to the black rose and have been abandoned by my gods."

"FORSAKEN YOU SAY? LIED TO SAYS I!” “ABADONED YOU SAY, BETRAYED!! SAYS I! ALL WEAK HUMAN GODS LIE! ALL WEAK HUMAN GODS DO NOTHING BUT BETRAY OUR KIND, NO DO NOT DENY MY WORDS YOUR BLOOD MAY RUN THIN BUT IT IS STILL ORCISH BLOOD. AND AS FOR HONOR, IT IS BUT A SHIELD TO HIDE A COWARDS HEART AND NOTHING MORE. ALL OTHER RACES HAVE LIED TO YOU, DECIEVED YOU, TRICKED YOU WITH THEIR WEAK WORDS AND EMPTY IDEALS ALL TO MAKE YOU LOWER YOUR SWORD AND ACCEPT THE KNIFE IN YOUR BACK! ORCS NEVER LIE! ORCS SAY "IF YOU ARE WEAK, I WILL KILL YOU." ORCS SAY "IF YOU ARE STRONG I MUST FOLLOW YOU OR THE “STRONG RULE AND THE WEAK FOLLOW OR DIE!” THAT IS THE WAY OF THE ORC. ACCEPT YOUR BLOOD ORC, FORSAKE YOUR WEAK HUMAN WAYS AND I WILL STRIKE DOWN YOUR ENEMIES, OR DENY ME ONCE MORE AND BLEED OUT THE LAST OF YOUR PATHETIC HUMAN LIFE APON MY MOUNTAIN. CHOOSE!"

Gruumsh’s words echoed down the mountain and down into the Half-Orcs soul. He had been lied to; he had been betrayed; over and over, again. Well no more! The snide comments, the veiled looks of disgust and the lack of respect. No more!! The Orcs blood boiled, his rage burned hotter and hotter until his fever burned all the weak unclean human blood from his veins and his eyes turned red. Time started. To the Orcs enemies nothing seemed to have happened, yet in one second a defeated man was retreating and in the next a raging Orc warrior was screaming at the top of his lungs and hacking them to pieces. Yet, the Rose mercenaries were confident of their eventual victory for they were many against one and he could not stand for long. That was before the rumbling roar of seventeen tons of snow rock and ice changed their minds for the Orc stood not alone, his god, Gruumsh stood with him. Gruumsh threw down the mountain and swept them all; the Orc as well, into the abyss.

The Orcs frozen battered body was found three days later by a fierce tribe of mountain orcs known to themselves as The Spear of Gruumsh but to all others as the Black Spear Tribe. They dug him out of the snow and piled him up with thedead bodies to be carried back to camp and eaten. Our lucky Orc was chosen as first to be cooked and was tied to a spit and turned over a huge pile of red hot coals. After only ten minutes the Orc had thawed out enough to start screaming, and cursing to be taken off the fire. "I am alive you dogs, take me down and I will honor Gruumsh by slaying all of you. Combat! Give me combat you cowardly wretches, I is a great warrior and will not die like dis. AAARRRGGGHHH!" The Orc warriors were understandably cautious about releasing this enraged spirit, what else could it be; it was dead and then it was not, it must be a trick of an evil spirit. So the poor Orc burned while the tribal elders deliberated his fate. Finally, fifteen minutes after waking up the Orc was removed from the fire pit and knocked unconscious; because by this time he was in a total rage and swearing death and destruction on everything and everyone. He was unchained and the shaman was called to sing a healing song over his smoldering body. For nine risings of the moon did the shaman sing his song and on the ninth night the Orc opened his eyes. The tribal shaman then said

"I is Duroc, shaman to Gruumsh He Who Watches, He who Never Sleeps, and I have healed your body and thus hold you in my power. Now you must answer me true three question I have for you."

"Ask your questions." said the Orc.

"What is your nature, be you living creature, be you a dead thing or are you from the spirit world?"

"I am a living creature." said the Orc.

"Now that you are well; will you make war on the Spear of Gruumsh, the tribe that pulled you from the ice only to put you on the fire, as you swore in your madness to do so?"

"No I will not make war with your tribe, instead I would ask to be part of you."

"Good, very good. Final question my strong, bold, Orc, what is your name?"

"My name is.... it is..."

He did not know. What would he call himself in his new life? For a long time he thought and then it came to him, an old nickname from his brother and a reviled insult from his childhood would make up his new name, one he would now be proud of. "My name; Duroc, is Grim Felltooth." The shaman smiled, for of course he had known all along.

Many great things did Grim Felltooth accomplish. The title of Weapon-master, the slaying of countless enemies and victory in many battles was his. Night after night he would lay down with Oyghoul, Orcish Goddess of pain, only to rise up again and again. Few could claim that distinction. Weapons of great destruction did he forge. The greatest of which was the baleful Kogrok called Doomflail in the human tongue. With it he killed more foes than ever he had as a man. His wrath was endless, his courage was boundless, and his cunning was always greater than that of his enemies.

The last sight I had of Grim Felltooth was when he lead his boys in a death charge. A vast host of elves and humans stood against him and the odds were twenty to one. Gruumsh had demanded victory on the field that day and Grim Felltooth would give his life and the lives of all his Orcs to haveit so. Not a single Orc walked from the field of battle that day. Neither did an elf or a human. There had been no escape from the carnage that was wrought by Grim and his boys. No escape but death. Grim’s body was never found. Duroc, First Shaman of Gruumsh declares that He Who Never Sleeps took below the Warmonger Grim Felltooth to His Iron Fortress in the Hells where he now serves as a Warlord in his own Regiment. It is whispered on the wind, by the voices of dead Orcs that he calls them The Honor Killers.

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