forkedcow
11-26-2004, 04:45 PM
I'm slowly working on the background for my char. Here's the current draft.
- - -
The offspring of humans, Muléonis had not had the most normal of childhoods. His pregnant mother, Maria, daughter of Onis, had been taken as war spoil by a lesser (and long forgotten) half-Orc chieftain, Gahblug. Enamored of her, he had treated Maria with as much compassion and tenderness as an half-Orc can muster. It was not an easy life, for Maria, but there was naught else. The war had seen her family decimated and the nomadic tribe had carried her far from her own kind.
Maria gave birth on the road and Gahblug took the frail human child as his own. It was his rough Orc’ish foster father that had given him his birth name. Noting that humans suckled their young, much in the manner of field beasts, Gahblug had given the child the name Mulé, a derivative of the Orc'ish word for cow. In fact, the linguistically challenged Orc gives this word to all four legged domestic beasts. And so Mulé Onis had been named.
It was not an auspicious name. The chieftain’s clan took great delight in tormenting the weak and ugly (to the Orc'ish eye, at least), Mulé. "Daì mulé," «Bring the pack animals», someone would bark. Invariably, Mulé was hauled to the scene and roughly thrown in, much to the great amusement of all. Gahblug never allowed violence against his son, but with his Orc'ish sensibilities, he found no fault with such rough treatment.
Mulé's mother, unaccustomed to a difficult life, grew weak. At her death, there was but a brief «passing» ceremony and the body of Maria, mother of Mulé, was left to make dirt in the field. This was the way of the Orc.
Mulé had seen death before, but always it was a wound that laid the body low. In death, Maria looked tired, ill, still and silent. But there was no great wound, no broken limb. To Mulé's young mind, his mother should walk still. It was this memory ... this paradox, that first sparked Mulé's interests in Necromancy.
Many questions consumed him. Why does a body cease to move without wound or mortal blow? Should it not continue until struck down? Each day Mulé visited his mother's body, watching the changes. He noted the arrival and passing of rigor. He saw the twitches of the muscle and heard the soft moans the made as gases escape the esophagus. He pondered the changes. Why does the body become pallid, soft and leak fluid. Where do the white maggots come from and what process gives birth to the flies that pour from every opening.
Mulé was fascinated and each day new wonders were seen. Muscle and fat, organs and sinews, peeked through cracks in turpid flesh. With no teacher to fill his mind with wholesome knowledge and no other play things to capture his attention, Mulé studied the processes of death and decay.
In time his mother's body was reduced to bone and teeth. These, Mulé gathered, cleaned and preserved as precious totems, symbols of his ancestry and guide to his future occupation. He would find, he promised himself, the missing element or power that animates. His mother's bones would walk again.
Hampered though he was by the crude Orc'ish language and the limitations this placed on rational thought, he pressed forward. He experimented on other bodies, as the possibilities presented. First, frogs, fish and fowl were his crucible. Occasionally, battles and skirmishes furnished him with more interesting subjects.
In olden times, the half-Orcs had worshipped the bones of their ancestors, and at first, his adopted tribe saw no wrong in his morbid fascinations. Mulé grew and learned. He knew the connections of the bones, the purpose of the sinews, the flow and sources of all the body’s humors. He soon found he could make a leg move or a fin flap through the application of preparations of metals and powders. He could concoct ointments that preserved the flesh against decay. To the half-Orcs, this appeared as magic. His tribe began to fear his workings.
They no longer tormented him. Indeed, they soon did not even speak his name. In his teen years, Mulé lived apart: near his tribe, but no longer with them. The dead of the tribe, whether killed in battle or dead of sickness, became his teachers and his companions. He was adept at manipulating the devices of the body, but still, he had not found the substance, process or magic that made a body animate.
The tribe traveled and the years passed. Soon, Gahblug led his clan back to a great gathering of the remaining half-Orc'ish tribes. Spoil would be traded, stories would be told of conquest and war, young half-Orc would be given among the tribes (an important socio-political activity ... it reduced inbreeding and strengthened relations among the disparate tribes). It was there that Mulé met the Traveler.
The Traveler was a learned half-Orc, a rarity indeed. He sat close on by a fire, surrounded by the young, old and inform, telling great tales of old. He spoke in the guttural Orc'ish language with great vigor, alternately firing spittle at his audience or flailing his hands to emphasize some point or another. Mulé listened intently as the explorer recounted the creation and fall of the old Gods.
In these traditions, Mulé learned of Nthuma, mother of the living dead, born of Malecta, who had the power to animate bones long in the grave. He learned of the immortal Nekresis, teacher and hero, who knew the words and preparations that made rotting flesh rise again.
Mulé questioned the traveler long into the night. Where were Nthuma and Malecta to be found? In what demesne did Nekresis give tutelage? He was given little detail, only rhymes and stories collected of others. But the traveler swore the stories had truth.
Mulé would have to discover the details on his own, in the manner of all great explorers. He had no attachment to the tribe, friends, nor true family. Mulé gathered up his few belongings and the precious polished bones of his mother. At the fire of old Gahblug, chieftain, protector, and father-of-sorts, he grunted a word of respect, and then passed into the night.
Muléonis, as he now named himself, would search the 12 kingdoms. He would learn the ways of necromancy and the bones of his mother would walk again.
Appearance and Habits
-Tall, in the manner of noble human stock, but thick, lumpy and slightly deformed as from a hard life.
-Dresses in simple furs and skins, in the manner of his adopted tribe.
-Unkempt and unshaven as he was not taught the civil ways.
-Smells slightly of decay with undertones of putrescence.
-When in need of money, will often work as an undertaker’s apprentice, preparing a bodies for burial. In the preservation of flesh, he oft impresses even the Masters of his trade.
-Speaks fluent Orc’ish. In the Common tongue, his accent is heavy, guttural, and his voice is always too quiet.
- Always, he carries a pack in which the polished bones of his mother are carefully stowed.
- - -
The offspring of humans, Muléonis had not had the most normal of childhoods. His pregnant mother, Maria, daughter of Onis, had been taken as war spoil by a lesser (and long forgotten) half-Orc chieftain, Gahblug. Enamored of her, he had treated Maria with as much compassion and tenderness as an half-Orc can muster. It was not an easy life, for Maria, but there was naught else. The war had seen her family decimated and the nomadic tribe had carried her far from her own kind.
Maria gave birth on the road and Gahblug took the frail human child as his own. It was his rough Orc’ish foster father that had given him his birth name. Noting that humans suckled their young, much in the manner of field beasts, Gahblug had given the child the name Mulé, a derivative of the Orc'ish word for cow. In fact, the linguistically challenged Orc gives this word to all four legged domestic beasts. And so Mulé Onis had been named.
It was not an auspicious name. The chieftain’s clan took great delight in tormenting the weak and ugly (to the Orc'ish eye, at least), Mulé. "Daì mulé," «Bring the pack animals», someone would bark. Invariably, Mulé was hauled to the scene and roughly thrown in, much to the great amusement of all. Gahblug never allowed violence against his son, but with his Orc'ish sensibilities, he found no fault with such rough treatment.
Mulé's mother, unaccustomed to a difficult life, grew weak. At her death, there was but a brief «passing» ceremony and the body of Maria, mother of Mulé, was left to make dirt in the field. This was the way of the Orc.
Mulé had seen death before, but always it was a wound that laid the body low. In death, Maria looked tired, ill, still and silent. But there was no great wound, no broken limb. To Mulé's young mind, his mother should walk still. It was this memory ... this paradox, that first sparked Mulé's interests in Necromancy.
Many questions consumed him. Why does a body cease to move without wound or mortal blow? Should it not continue until struck down? Each day Mulé visited his mother's body, watching the changes. He noted the arrival and passing of rigor. He saw the twitches of the muscle and heard the soft moans the made as gases escape the esophagus. He pondered the changes. Why does the body become pallid, soft and leak fluid. Where do the white maggots come from and what process gives birth to the flies that pour from every opening.
Mulé was fascinated and each day new wonders were seen. Muscle and fat, organs and sinews, peeked through cracks in turpid flesh. With no teacher to fill his mind with wholesome knowledge and no other play things to capture his attention, Mulé studied the processes of death and decay.
In time his mother's body was reduced to bone and teeth. These, Mulé gathered, cleaned and preserved as precious totems, symbols of his ancestry and guide to his future occupation. He would find, he promised himself, the missing element or power that animates. His mother's bones would walk again.
Hampered though he was by the crude Orc'ish language and the limitations this placed on rational thought, he pressed forward. He experimented on other bodies, as the possibilities presented. First, frogs, fish and fowl were his crucible. Occasionally, battles and skirmishes furnished him with more interesting subjects.
In olden times, the half-Orcs had worshipped the bones of their ancestors, and at first, his adopted tribe saw no wrong in his morbid fascinations. Mulé grew and learned. He knew the connections of the bones, the purpose of the sinews, the flow and sources of all the body’s humors. He soon found he could make a leg move or a fin flap through the application of preparations of metals and powders. He could concoct ointments that preserved the flesh against decay. To the half-Orcs, this appeared as magic. His tribe began to fear his workings.
They no longer tormented him. Indeed, they soon did not even speak his name. In his teen years, Mulé lived apart: near his tribe, but no longer with them. The dead of the tribe, whether killed in battle or dead of sickness, became his teachers and his companions. He was adept at manipulating the devices of the body, but still, he had not found the substance, process or magic that made a body animate.
The tribe traveled and the years passed. Soon, Gahblug led his clan back to a great gathering of the remaining half-Orc'ish tribes. Spoil would be traded, stories would be told of conquest and war, young half-Orc would be given among the tribes (an important socio-political activity ... it reduced inbreeding and strengthened relations among the disparate tribes). It was there that Mulé met the Traveler.
The Traveler was a learned half-Orc, a rarity indeed. He sat close on by a fire, surrounded by the young, old and inform, telling great tales of old. He spoke in the guttural Orc'ish language with great vigor, alternately firing spittle at his audience or flailing his hands to emphasize some point or another. Mulé listened intently as the explorer recounted the creation and fall of the old Gods.
In these traditions, Mulé learned of Nthuma, mother of the living dead, born of Malecta, who had the power to animate bones long in the grave. He learned of the immortal Nekresis, teacher and hero, who knew the words and preparations that made rotting flesh rise again.
Mulé questioned the traveler long into the night. Where were Nthuma and Malecta to be found? In what demesne did Nekresis give tutelage? He was given little detail, only rhymes and stories collected of others. But the traveler swore the stories had truth.
Mulé would have to discover the details on his own, in the manner of all great explorers. He had no attachment to the tribe, friends, nor true family. Mulé gathered up his few belongings and the precious polished bones of his mother. At the fire of old Gahblug, chieftain, protector, and father-of-sorts, he grunted a word of respect, and then passed into the night.
Muléonis, as he now named himself, would search the 12 kingdoms. He would learn the ways of necromancy and the bones of his mother would walk again.
Appearance and Habits
-Tall, in the manner of noble human stock, but thick, lumpy and slightly deformed as from a hard life.
-Dresses in simple furs and skins, in the manner of his adopted tribe.
-Unkempt and unshaven as he was not taught the civil ways.
-Smells slightly of decay with undertones of putrescence.
-When in need of money, will often work as an undertaker’s apprentice, preparing a bodies for burial. In the preservation of flesh, he oft impresses even the Masters of his trade.
-Speaks fluent Orc’ish. In the Common tongue, his accent is heavy, guttural, and his voice is always too quiet.
- Always, he carries a pack in which the polished bones of his mother are carefully stowed.