Gorol Thur'Gra is a large imposing orc, standing at about 6'4. He has menacing dark green eyes. He has a brawny, athletic build from his race and active lifestyle. His chest sports a few scars from participation in countless battles. He sports a tuft of long black hair.
Gorol Thur’Gra was born to an orcish chieftain and his wife, who was a half orc. His tribe was one of the larger ones, and would only grow in size. Gorol was born on the day of a great victory for his tribe, the tribe’s shaman declaring his birth a blessed one and an omen from the gods. Gorol had a usual orcish upbringing, fighting with other young orcs and learning how to survive in the brutal wasteland of the blighted lands. In his childhood he was large and imposing, a good fit for the son of the chieftain. In the rough orcish games that the children played, which were fights for the most part, Gorol would always come out on top. A childhood memory he cherishes is the time when he was first given a sparring weapon, at the age of 4. He promptly used it to fight anybody he could. He trained daily, as did many orcish children. His first battle was at the age of 12, when most orcs matured. His first battle is one he will always remember for the rest of his life. He oft recalls the nervous waiting for the call to battle, and the rush of adrenaline when he charged alongside his father, watching him rip through orc upon orc as he cut deep into the enemy ranks. Gorol remembers sinking his axe into the chest of his first opponent, a youngish looking orc with green eyes. The sight of the blood pouring from his chest did not scare him. He felt a rush the moment his axe tore through his enemy. He pulled the axe out and sliced the orc across the neck, who dropped to the ground, now lying in a pool of blood. Gorol was stunned momentarily. This was war and battle. This is what he was born to do. From that point onward, Gorol knew what his true calling was. He fought in numerous battles for his tribe, learning from his father and always aspiring to be like him. His tribe grew in power, becoming so powerful it encompassed the majority of orcish land, a considerable achievement. However, his father had ambitions beyond the simple orcish lust for conquest and power. He wanted to unite the orcish people under one flag and one tribe. He wanted to create an orcish kingdom. His ambitions were short lived. The other orcish tribes that were not aligned with his father united against this huge orcish force. Alliances were rare among orcs. What ensued was an enormous battle, somewhere in the center of the blighted lands. Gorol and his father led the charge of their huge forces against the enemy. It was one of the biggest battles any orc could remember. Gorol fought and fought, until all of a sudden, all went dark.
He awoke in a pool of blood, surrounded by bodies. He dragged himself up and looked at himself. Among other injuries, he suspected he took a blow from a blunt weapon to the head. Gorol attempted to stand but barely could. Among the bodies of the battle he saw his father’s, lying down facing the sky. He knew his father was in Üthgard, the orcish afterlife now. Gorol looked around the battlefield to try and determine who had won, but he could not. Bodies of orcs from both sides littered the land. Walking into the battlefield he saw the outline of a figure. Gorol scrambled for his axe until he realized it was his mother, who looked distressed. She told him that the remnants of the opposing orcish army charged into the tribe’s lands and sacked them, turning upon themselves after an argument on the spoils of war. She then took him to a secluded hut nearby and tended to his wounds. Gorol was confined to this hut for about a month until he could heal. His mother then proposed for the two to run from the blighted lands. They were the few remnants of their tribe and would surely be hunted by the others. Gorol knew he could not stay in these lands for they were a reminder of defeat. He wanted to return one day, to reclaim what was his, avenge his father and continue his dreams, but this was for the future.
Gorol and his mother ventured through the dangerous wastes of the blighted land into Sanguis. They had to sneak past various border patrols that in normal circumstances they would ambush with a band of hardy orcs. They took refuge in human cities and took what poor jobs they could. Neither could understand common. It was a difficult time as they went from city to city living where they could and doing what jobs they could get for little pay. They moved through Sanguis and out towards Veradon, at this point Gorol had a grasp of common, as did his mother. The two had heard of Veradon and the mercenary guilds there. Gorol thought it would be a perfect opportunity to get some coin. His mother continued her journey to Stoneleaf. She gave Gorol an address to write to, an elven place, which Gorol found strange as it seems she already knew where she was going. Come to think of it, he never knew much about his mother’s background.
Nevertheless, Gorol continued to Veradon, for glory & fortune.