(My backstory for the character Orm.)
Early Life
Ormdahl was born in a place called Jalanthar, a small hamlet hugging the southern ranges of the Nether Mountains. The people of Jalanthar were usually known to be kind to one another, and lived from their trades hunting and trapping. But they were hardy folk, accustomed to clashes from orcs and other raiders. Ormdahl was an unwanted child conceived during one of these attacks.
Though his mother loved him, his community struggled to do the same. He was treated as entertainment by his peers, with disgust by young women, and disregard by the elders. Orm, they called him, on account of it being more appropriate for a blooded. Orm's mother was not spared her share of shunning, and despite her efforts, this often affected their homelife.
After seventeen years, still ostracised by his community and feeling pity for his mother, Orm found an opportunity to leave when a traveling hunter needed guidance to the nearby village of Lhuvenhead. Raised a to be a trapper, Orm offered himself as a guide, and after a three day trek through the woods they arrived at the river town. He would never step foot in Jalanthar again.
The docks offered ample work at day, and because of his appearance, he also found steady work in taverns at night. Half a year eventually passed, and though Orm found stability in Lhuvenhead, he yearned for more than hauling cargo and grappling drunkards. A handful of coins and a rowboat west, Orm's journey began.
Everlund
Arriving in Everlund was a shock to Orm. Though not a large city, it dwarfed anything he had yet seen in his quiet life. He fell back into working the docks and taverns, a man has to eat afterall - though the city proved to be rowdier than his countryside beginnings. One night especially. A burly human, being refused service after advancing on a tavern wench with heavy hands, pulled a blade on Orm after he tried to throw the man out. Unskilled in combat and cut several times, Orm's fear and strength escalated into a fit of violent rage. By the end of it, the aggressors face was beaten into a mass of deformed teeth, blood and snot.
Though that man survived, the next two years of his life were spent in hard unpaid labour, fed with grey slop and occasional hardtack, sleeping on thin layers of hay in cold dark rooms.
Completing his sentence, he struck a chance to leave. A trade caravan heading for the city Yartar, in need of able bodies to ward off any creatures or bandits. Aged twenty, Orm set off once again.
Yartar
The ten day journey to Yartar was quiet, and Orm was paid for his services. Protection work was good, sometimes you just have to look tough, sometimes you'll have to hit someone with a stick. These jobs were rife in Yartar, a bustling sleepless city with a strong criminal element. He found work protecting businesses from thieves, would-be rackateers and the like, and Orm became proficient with his fists (and the occasional clubbing). After a year, Orm took another job like any other. Protect the cargo, keep an eye out. Except the would-be thieves were no thieves at all, but local watchmen sent to arrest these merchants. Unknown to him, he was helping smuggle undeclared goods into the city.
Escaping the watchmen, Orm fled Yartar with nothing more than half a loaf of bread, several coins and the clothes on his back. On the westward road again, passing through the villages of Triboar and Conyberry, he found enough farm work to feed himself and continue on. He had heard tales about the great city of Neverwinter, and even more importantly, the opportunities that can be found there.
Neverwinter
A month on the road, twenty one years old. The walls of Neverwinter stretched so wide, Orm couldn't believe his eyes.
Rife with commerce, and full of life, the city heralded a new chapter for Orm. At first he took more protection jobs, though with a great deal of scrutiny after the incident in Yartar. He eventually felt ambitious, desiring more coin and exciting work. Bounty hunting. The first contract presented to him was the head of a local gang leader, Ither Gaunt. He ordered killings, rackateered and kept an iron fist over the neighbourhood strumpets. Keeping an ear close to the streets, Orm struck at an opportune moment where Ither had only one henchman at his side. Catching them by surprise, he knocked Ither's goon unconscious before setting upon the kingpin himself. Killing a man wasn't as quick and clean as Orm thought. It was slow, brutal and sloppy. Though a traumatising experience, his conscience was clean and the coin certainly helped. Many folk wouldn't think twice about slaying a blooded, after all.
The next four years proved fruitful, contracts were rolling in. Protection gigs, bounties on people and monsters alike - by chance this work took Orm further south, through villages and towards the city of Waterdeep.
Heartbreak in Waterdeep
Establishing himself in Waterdeep wasn't difficult, the city afforded Orm as much opportunity as Neverwinter. He quickly met another blooded, Rowan, and their hearts softened for one another. For the first time in Orm's life he had found love, Rowan and he soon rented a room in the Dock Ward together. Though they initially found trust through their shared heritage, Rowan quickly showed herself to be deeply insecure. She had filed down her tusks, used paint to hide her features, and kept herself in human circles. Orm noticed that her companions treated her as a novelty. She was never quite one of them, often the butt of their jokes, entertainment rather than a valued friend. But she refused to see it despite Orm's protests. After a year and a half she was incessantly suggesting that Orm file down his tusks, dress up, paint his face - act 'civilised'. This created great strife for them both, and Rowan eventually attempted to pursue human men.
Distraught, Orm had to escape Waterdeep. His first and only heartbreak turned the city into a prison of painful memories. He had began to desire a settled life with a family, and it had been ripped from him. Taking a job as an armed guard on a merchant vessel, packing whatever belongings he could and at the age of twenty seven, Orm set off west once again.
Troubled Years
The journey to Moonshae Isles was marred by skirmishes with pirates, and Orm suffered a wound on his leg that crippled him for months to come. Arriving in Cael Calidyrr, the city only spared him lower level work, returning to the days of tavern guarding and dock labour. Heartbroken, overqualified and underpaid, he only found peace in oblivion. Savagely spiralling into an uncoordinated mess of brawling, drinking and borrowing, Orm found himself in debt to local loan sharks. Debt which he could not repay, even under the threat of his safety.
Orm had to leave, and through his dock work he managed to stow himself away on a ship headed east, armed only with a sack of hardtack and two coins.
Baldur's Gate, Murann
The journey proved horrid. Orm lost a great deal of bodyweight, and was dehydrated more often than not. He slept between two crates of cargo without bedding, laying his head on a pair of flimsy shoes. But eventually his ears were graced by ringing bells. Baldur's Gate.
The city proved welcoming to a destitute stowaway such as Orm. Resuming his usual low level lines of work for over a year, he eventually acquired weaponry and a coat of chainmail, as well as sobriety and a new outlook on life. He was not meant to settle down, not yet at least. He lived and worked in the City of Blood for five years, each day presenting the same challenge: how will I afford food today?
Hearing tales of Amn, and the opportunities war presents, Orm decided to chase his fortune. At the age of thirty two with ten coins, flimsy armour and old greatsword, Orm paid for passage on a keelboat headed to Murann.
Early Life
Ormdahl was born in a place called Jalanthar, a small hamlet hugging the southern ranges of the Nether Mountains. The people of Jalanthar were usually known to be kind to one another, and lived from their trades hunting and trapping. But they were hardy folk, accustomed to clashes from orcs and other raiders. Ormdahl was an unwanted child conceived during one of these attacks.
Though his mother loved him, his community struggled to do the same. He was treated as entertainment by his peers, with disgust by young women, and disregard by the elders. Orm, they called him, on account of it being more appropriate for a blooded. Orm's mother was not spared her share of shunning, and despite her efforts, this often affected their homelife.
After seventeen years, still ostracised by his community and feeling pity for his mother, Orm found an opportunity to leave when a traveling hunter needed guidance to the nearby village of Lhuvenhead. Raised a to be a trapper, Orm offered himself as a guide, and after a three day trek through the woods they arrived at the river town. He would never step foot in Jalanthar again.
The docks offered ample work at day, and because of his appearance, he also found steady work in taverns at night. Half a year eventually passed, and though Orm found stability in Lhuvenhead, he yearned for more than hauling cargo and grappling drunkards. A handful of coins and a rowboat west, Orm's journey began.
Everlund
Arriving in Everlund was a shock to Orm. Though not a large city, it dwarfed anything he had yet seen in his quiet life. He fell back into working the docks and taverns, a man has to eat afterall - though the city proved to be rowdier than his countryside beginnings. One night especially. A burly human, being refused service after advancing on a tavern wench with heavy hands, pulled a blade on Orm after he tried to throw the man out. Unskilled in combat and cut several times, Orm's fear and strength escalated into a fit of violent rage. By the end of it, the aggressors face was beaten into a mass of deformed teeth, blood and snot.
Though that man survived, the next two years of his life were spent in hard unpaid labour, fed with grey slop and occasional hardtack, sleeping on thin layers of hay in cold dark rooms.
Completing his sentence, he struck a chance to leave. A trade caravan heading for the city Yartar, in need of able bodies to ward off any creatures or bandits. Aged twenty, Orm set off once again.
Yartar
The ten day journey to Yartar was quiet, and Orm was paid for his services. Protection work was good, sometimes you just have to look tough, sometimes you'll have to hit someone with a stick. These jobs were rife in Yartar, a bustling sleepless city with a strong criminal element. He found work protecting businesses from thieves, would-be rackateers and the like, and Orm became proficient with his fists (and the occasional clubbing). After a year, Orm took another job like any other. Protect the cargo, keep an eye out. Except the would-be thieves were no thieves at all, but local watchmen sent to arrest these merchants. Unknown to him, he was helping smuggle undeclared goods into the city.
Escaping the watchmen, Orm fled Yartar with nothing more than half a loaf of bread, several coins and the clothes on his back. On the westward road again, passing through the villages of Triboar and Conyberry, he found enough farm work to feed himself and continue on. He had heard tales about the great city of Neverwinter, and even more importantly, the opportunities that can be found there.
Neverwinter
A month on the road, twenty one years old. The walls of Neverwinter stretched so wide, Orm couldn't believe his eyes.
Rife with commerce, and full of life, the city heralded a new chapter for Orm. At first he took more protection jobs, though with a great deal of scrutiny after the incident in Yartar. He eventually felt ambitious, desiring more coin and exciting work. Bounty hunting. The first contract presented to him was the head of a local gang leader, Ither Gaunt. He ordered killings, rackateered and kept an iron fist over the neighbourhood strumpets. Keeping an ear close to the streets, Orm struck at an opportune moment where Ither had only one henchman at his side. Catching them by surprise, he knocked Ither's goon unconscious before setting upon the kingpin himself. Killing a man wasn't as quick and clean as Orm thought. It was slow, brutal and sloppy. Though a traumatising experience, his conscience was clean and the coin certainly helped. Many folk wouldn't think twice about slaying a blooded, after all.
The next four years proved fruitful, contracts were rolling in. Protection gigs, bounties on people and monsters alike - by chance this work took Orm further south, through villages and towards the city of Waterdeep.
Heartbreak in Waterdeep
Establishing himself in Waterdeep wasn't difficult, the city afforded Orm as much opportunity as Neverwinter. He quickly met another blooded, Rowan, and their hearts softened for one another. For the first time in Orm's life he had found love, Rowan and he soon rented a room in the Dock Ward together. Though they initially found trust through their shared heritage, Rowan quickly showed herself to be deeply insecure. She had filed down her tusks, used paint to hide her features, and kept herself in human circles. Orm noticed that her companions treated her as a novelty. She was never quite one of them, often the butt of their jokes, entertainment rather than a valued friend. But she refused to see it despite Orm's protests. After a year and a half she was incessantly suggesting that Orm file down his tusks, dress up, paint his face - act 'civilised'. This created great strife for them both, and Rowan eventually attempted to pursue human men.
Distraught, Orm had to escape Waterdeep. His first and only heartbreak turned the city into a prison of painful memories. He had began to desire a settled life with a family, and it had been ripped from him. Taking a job as an armed guard on a merchant vessel, packing whatever belongings he could and at the age of twenty seven, Orm set off west once again.
Troubled Years
The journey to Moonshae Isles was marred by skirmishes with pirates, and Orm suffered a wound on his leg that crippled him for months to come. Arriving in Cael Calidyrr, the city only spared him lower level work, returning to the days of tavern guarding and dock labour. Heartbroken, overqualified and underpaid, he only found peace in oblivion. Savagely spiralling into an uncoordinated mess of brawling, drinking and borrowing, Orm found himself in debt to local loan sharks. Debt which he could not repay, even under the threat of his safety.
Orm had to leave, and through his dock work he managed to stow himself away on a ship headed east, armed only with a sack of hardtack and two coins.
Baldur's Gate, Murann
The journey proved horrid. Orm lost a great deal of bodyweight, and was dehydrated more often than not. He slept between two crates of cargo without bedding, laying his head on a pair of flimsy shoes. But eventually his ears were graced by ringing bells. Baldur's Gate.
The city proved welcoming to a destitute stowaway such as Orm. Resuming his usual low level lines of work for over a year, he eventually acquired weaponry and a coat of chainmail, as well as sobriety and a new outlook on life. He was not meant to settle down, not yet at least. He lived and worked in the City of Blood for five years, each day presenting the same challenge: how will I afford food today?
Hearing tales of Amn, and the opportunities war presents, Orm decided to chase his fortune. At the age of thirty two with ten coins, flimsy armour and old greatsword, Orm paid for passage on a keelboat headed to Murann.