Post by crazyape on Aug 8, 2004 13:17:40 GMT
Gaad’n K’nugh was a fine maiden of the Long Elk tribe of white river, and a lady of exceptional parentage. Her mother had been the first daughter of the shaman of her tribe, and a shaman of some renown in her own right. Her father had been a white dragon who, in human form, had bedded her mother and begotten her with child. The result of this unlikely parentage, in the form of Gaad’n, was a half orc of exceptional strength and charisma, and not some small magical talent.
When the time came for Gaad’n herself to produce a child, she hit upon a plan that was to be her eventual undoing. While no child of hers would hold a direct claim on the tribe’s leadership, she reasoned that any male of sufficient strength, charisma and guile could sway opinion sufficiently to become, at the least, a senior advisor, and all things being equal, perhaps even more.
Gaad’n is reported to have spent some time then in the researching of certain arcane practices that are perhaps not always wise… namely those required to summon, at will, a red dragon to her side. Her arcane technique, and her dominance of the creature, being perfected, she did copulate with it on repeated occasions until at last a son was quickening in her womb.
Alas, nine months having passed, her son, at birth, was not beautiful, but instead was merely large. The labour took 36 hours, and her boy was born weighing in at an impressive 22 lbs. His ugliness was in fact so overwhelming that, on seeing her child, Gaad’n cried out ‘B’eau Racksa’ (lit. Cursed Blood, or A curse on my blood), in the moment before she expired. The child, being unnamed, was from that day forth called ‘Borax’, a name that would haunt him for many years.
As time passed he became both more ugly and sizable with each fleeting year; at the age of 13 his strength surpassed that of the tribes great hunters, but, due to his appearance, none would approach or train the boy, and so his strength, un-harnessed, was like a storm. At 14 he took to wearing a hood at all times to hide his face, and attempted to learn an instrument that he might find acceptance as a bard. His success was limited at best… a satirist, on judging one of his performances claimed he had ‘a voice to make babies cry, a face to make women faint, and a temper to make grown men tremble’.
Indeed, within Borax’s body his red and white dragon blood would alternately boil and freeze, driving him to fits of fury that terrified all around him. At the age of 18 he became embroiled in a fight with three of the tribes hunters after they questioned his parentage, taunting him with cries of ‘B’eau Racksa’, and reminding him unkindly of his mothers death. All three men were struck down in a moment, their skulls crushed like eggs… When Borax’ rage had drained from him, he found himself staked out before the whole tribe, at the mercy of his grandfather, the shaman. A spell was made banish him from their lands, never to return. He awoke upon the isle of Fredian, with no way to reach the mainland and only his sorrow as his guide.
Through the crafting of weapons he has harnessed his strength as a tool, and his rage, while infrequent, is now directed toward the rocks of the earth, Borax heading out into the north fredian desert when the anger takes him. He is an easy friend, and a terrible enemy, generous to a fault, and always afraid of the hate that he has tried to leave behind. The world’s worst bard, and ugliest man, is now among you.
// A little background to a character you may have seen around.
Cheers.
