Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20160913141844/@comment-35609040-20160918010649

(Hey Red, guess what! :P )

Name: Boshrug gro-Horgwam

Race: Orsimer (just to add a bit of tension >:) )

Gender: Male

Age: 38

Appearance: Sorta like this.

Height/weight: 5' 7" (1.7 meters), 192 lb (87 kg)

Skills: One Handed (Master), Block (Expert), Smithing (Expert), Two-Handed (Adept), Hand-To-Hand (Adept), Speechcraft (Adept)

Equipment: Ragged clothes, a crude wooden shield, a strange (presumably Orcish) sword that greatly resembles a tool used by a taxidermist, and a collection of various knives from many lands and peoples, taken as trophies.

Spells: Magic is for witches. Witches are for burning. So is wood. Wood floats. Ducks float. Ducks are over-rated. Therefore, magic is over-rated.

Powers: Orcish racial power.

Background: Like most of his kind, the Orc known as Boshrug (a very handsome name by Orcish standards) was raised in a Stronghold, far away from the society of the Outlanders. The Outlanders were hated among the Orcs, mostly because they themselves were hated among the Outlanders. Although Boshrug never fully understood who was hated first.

Eventually, Boshrug’s Stronghold was targeted for removal by the decree Kingdom of Evermore, and he and his clan were scattered into the wind as part of a greater Orcish diaspora. They were disliked, unwelcomed, and generally avoided by the majority Breton population, which irked a large number of them into joining previously rival strongholds. Boshrug, however, had already started a life in the Dragontail Mountains of Hammerfell. The simple folk of this region in particular seemed to be innocent of the prejudice so common in city Bretons, and the Orc felt accepted among them.

Here he served as a smith in the of small village Rotocorroca, deep within the rugged landscape of the Dragontails. He was well-liked in his place of exile, and his place of exile was well-liked by him. He found their martial culture pleasingly familiar, if not more tolerable, than the Orcish manner of his upbringing. Many of his customers became his friends and sparring partners.

However nothing lasts forever, and quaint Rotocorroca was soon traded to Principality of Maq’amba, a small domain in Totambu, as part of a reward for its valiant contribution in fighting off the Aldmeri years prior. A reward that was long overdue, and, indeed, had the messenger not been two days early to the Prince’s palace, the Redguard Civil War might have been sparked again.

The Prince ordered Rotocorroca to be incorporated into the greater Dragontail City area, and had the entire region dictated by a common law, known as the Edict of Berbehus. Minor changes were made, mostly, but unfortunately for old Boshrug, the new code explicitly stated that foreigners could not be found owning, producing, or trading arms. And as mountain folk have little need for chains and cowbells, Boshrug was out of work again.

He soon began to realize how hard life was without a sword, especially for an Orc, and abandoned Hammerfell for the Imperial Province.

Upon arriving in Cyrodiil, Boshrug’s large build was immediately recognized by the Guard, and he was offered (more like commanded) to become the city’s new executioner. The previous one had actually turned out to be a major serial killer, who was only executing on the side for fun. Boshrug grudgingly agreed, although he found no honor in killing the defenseless.

The Orc was not accepted in Cyrodil anymore than he would have been in High Rock, and was seen as almost a criminal himself. For Imperials see Executioners as a strange breed. They get their hands messy often, and as such, are substandard. Boshrug hardly minded this treatment, he expected no better.

Boshrug soon began to entreat the local Lord to allow him to, instead, fight the convicts in a duel to the death. The Lord denied this request at first, but eventually agreed, and Judicial Duels were put into place. Petty criminals, however, are rather boring opposition, and Boshrug grew frustrated with the lack of challenge his life. Upon his own request, he was relieved of his position and his duties. He was also given a very old Cyrodilic dagger as a thanks for his service, as he truly was a very good executioner, which began his tradition of collecting knives, daggers, and other short blades. His collection is now very large, and he can’t even bring most of them with him into battle.

Boshrug soon found a job smithing for a short time (as the Empire had no rules against Orcs smithing), although he still longed for the acceptance he had so long ago, in the mountains. He was relieved to finally meet a fellow Orc one day, who invited him to leave his, rather shambly, Smithy, and join a band of mercenaries.

Made up of Orcs, Nords, and Redguards, mostly (as these people tend to enjoy war more than others), the merry marauders happily fought for Marius Vilpes against the recently empowered Aldmeri puppet.

Vilpes was an inspiration to Boshrug, personally, as the Soon-To-Be-Emperor had supported the Stormcloack cause. The Orc assumed that if he supported a homelord for the Nords, he would also support a homeland for the Orcs. A land where he could be with his kind once again.

His dreams of a peaceful life among Orcs (although this is an oxymoron) were soon shattered, when Orsinium declared itself part of the Crystal Consolidate, the new Empire’s de jure rival. Any chance he had of peace was lost. His honor was lost as well, as his contract with the Empire had not ended, and so he had declared a blood war on his own kind. He considered himself a traitor.

After fighting in some inconclusive battles for the Empire in the Valenwood Campaign, Boshrug retired to Arenthia, to spite himself (for he knew he would be least welcomed there). He now hopes the war will resume, for he hopes to redeem himself with a good death.