This takes place at the campsite on the night before we raided the horn
Quietly, Olar begins to speak to the other members of the 9th Knot. He says, “Many of you have revealed your pasts, and now is a good time for me to tell you my story”.
He takes a deep breath and begins, “The vengeance and hatred that consumes my existence is a result of the death of my twin sister Lokka. Our mother was human, and I imagine that she was very beautiful too. At least that is how I picture her. Though, everything I know of her is fantasy. I never even saw her face. I often wonder how much better life would have been if we would have known her”. Almost as if he is trying to hold on to that thought for as long as he could, he stares silently for a moment, and that moment evolves into a silence that lingers longer than what most people would be comfortable with.
He continues, “I was told she was taken captive by a group of orcs, and instead of killing her, they had much more horrendous plans for her. Indeed, she was forced into slavery by our father’s tribe. She, however, willingly became one of his concubines. Perhaps she was intoxicated by the power he wielded. I will will never know. Maybe she wasn’t quite as innocent as I like to believe”
With a questioning look upon his face, he states, “My father’s name is Khagra, I hope he is dead now”.
With another uncomfortably long pause he continues, “Shortly after our birth our mother was killed as an offering to Grymblor. I can only imagine how horrendous her death must have been. It is probably best that I was merely an infant at the time. She likely believed she was safe as one of Khagra’s concubines. However, nothing is sacred with orcs.
“My twin sister, Lokka, and I were never accepted into the tribe. We were merely ‘halfbreeds’, and the death of our human mother was relentlessly thrown in our faces. The orcs would often describe to us how they heard her scream as she was sacrificed to their petty god. They thought it was amusing to laugh at our grief”.
As if hoping for some kind of answer from above, Olar looks up and whispers, “It’s strange, we were never told her name…”
He then proceeds, “Like our mother, we were bought and traded as slaves. We were forced to do the most demeaning tasks. Then, when I was just beginning to become a man, the tribe was attacked by a group of dwarves. We managed to escaped during the melee. We stowed away on a ship, and found ourselves on the island of Talengarde”. With the way that Olar pronounces Talengarde, with a sarcastic sneer and a flicker of flame in his eyes, everyone listening can sense his disdain for this land.
“The half elves, and humans in Talengarde did not take kindly to half-orcs. We were forced to wander the island, stealing and begging for food like stray dogs. We managed to survive on the streets for two years as we watched Talengarde descend into war”.
“During the war, it became even more difficult for us to find food, clean water, and shelter. We were forced to spend most of our time sleeping rough in the forests, and we subsisted on a diet of mostly rats and the occasional deer, or elk”.
“You know, Lokka thought those beast’s antlers were beautiful…” Olar states, and for just a moment, he smiles, only to shut his eyes and grit his teeth together in fury.
“One evening we were huddled around our campfire when a group from Darius’ army, led by a Paladin of Mitra, stumbled upon us. After discovering that we were half orcs, they began to taunt us. They called us ‘pig face’ and ‘tusker’ while making jokes about how disgusting it must be to mate with an orc”.
“My sister became enraged and threw a bit of hot ember at them. In response, they beat us mercilessly. The paladin (with a symbol of Mitra around his neck), said that he sensed darkness and evil in us, and that we should be destroyed”.
Olar laughs, “he was right about me…”
“My anger began to overfill. I pulled a small hunting knife and stabbed one of them in the leg. That’s when the human with the symbol commanded the others, “purge Talengarde of these half-orc children, least the grow up to unleash their evil nature upon the island’, and he then walked away.”
Once again, Olar pauses. He seems to stop breathing, and stare into nothingness. He almost appears like he is incapable of continuing his story. Then, he mournfully groans, “They forced me to watch as they pushed my sister into the fire. She kept trying to pull herself from the flames. However, she was weak and small, so they would simply push her back in. I struggled to be released, but they overpowered me, while my sister slowly burned. She eventually was overcome by pain, and collapsed in the fire. I heard her last few gasps for air, as the fire stole her life.”
As if it was physically painful for him to remember that moment, Olar seems sapped of energy, and he seems to have to force the next words out of his mouth, “Then it was my turn to die”.
“One of the men held me above his head and threw me into the fire. I knew in my heart that i was about to die, or perhaps… a part of me was about to die. I had nothing to live for, so I did not try to pull myself from the flames. I could feel the insatiable heat and smell the sweetness of my flesh burning as I watched those wretched humans leave me for dead”.
“However, Moments before the fire claimed my life I felt the desire for vengeance, and I pulled myself free from the fire. At that moment I made a verbal vow to whomever was listening, that I would burn Darius, and all of Talengarde to the ground. They must be made to suffer”.
With that, he stands up, raising his arms, and growls, “They should endure more suffering than they forced upon my sister!” After which he looks at each and ever member of the knot, and It appears as if his anger is manifested in real flames within his eyes.
Olar continues his story as he settles back to the ground, “To this day, I do not know how I survived that fire. Truly, I should have perished from my burns. My body was marked with scars until I was reborn through death, but my heart is still filled with rage for those who slaughtered Lokka. Vengeance by an all consuming flame is now my only desire”.
He continues, “During the next few years of my life, I taught myself the ways of sorcery. Focusing on the ability to burn my enemies with nothing more than a gesture”.
“8 years later, I was captured after setting a temple of Mitra on fire”, he says with a toothy smile. “Though it wasn’t my first attempt at arson, it was my most successful. A number of ‘holy’ followers of Mitre were immolated with my fire. When they sentenced me to death, I laughed and spit in their faces”.
He then allows himself to drink deeply of the memory of the fire he started at the temple. “Those holy fools, I hope they had to watch each other burn as their temple fell around them”. He grumbles with an evil chuckle.
“That is when I met this wretched group at Braderscar, well, except Arken, and now you know why I long to destroy Mitre, Darius, and burn Talengarde to the ground”.
Without waiting for a response to his story he stands up and leaves the presence of the rest of the 9th Knot. He doesn’t want pity, and he doesn’t want to hear anyone’s thoughts. He already knows that vengeance is the only thing that will quench the fire of hate in his heart.
Before he is out of hearing range he turns back to the group, and spits, “I also hate horses! They don’t even have antlers.”