I am Hrothwulf. 'Tis a name my father gave me, for he saw a future king in me. At this moment I am at the age of 20 or 16 according to man's years. Once, a dear friend called me a madman for my tendency to try out my luck against dangerous situations. The title stuck with me years after and I am actually proud to bear such a title.
I was born a Half-orc, but if one can choose what race they are going to born as, I'd be a normal human. My father was an orc chieftain, and my mother a human. My mother, she was a gentle lady who owned a herbal shop before the town she lived in was raided by my father's clan. I don't know much about what happened between them afterwards since mother never really explained, but she always told me that she came to love father with time. The feeling was returned by father, and despite the norms of the society from which they came from, they married in the end.
But enough about my parents.
I have a quite thin body, similar to those of an average human. Too skinny even. I hope not many will know of this, but I was also called 'the frail' by the same friend who called me madman. Well, I was never really interested in physical activities, as I spent more time with books and men of wisdom.
I have red shoulder length hair and a full beard that makes me look older than I actually am. I found that people treat me with more respect when I look older. My hazel eyes indicate a calm and collected soul which rather contradicts with my title. I have pale green skin which shows to the world my heritage. Since childhood, I have always surrounded myself in the companies of scholars, priests, and philosophers. Naturally, they influenced me in many things, including my appearance. I am always seen wearing loose robes, usually those with wide sleeves, and a hooded cloak. The clothes I wear always have many room to store things in, since I like to carry books with me when I travel and I happen to dislike wearing backpacks.
When my mother died and I was left to decide my own fate, I had no idea what would I become in the future. Will I be a wizard? A thief? A cleric? I do not know. One thing is obvious, though: I can't see my future self as a warrior. Even though I am not sure what path will I pursue, I have always been fascinated with Mother's tales of orc shamans back in Father's homeland. These orcs are said to have the abilities of seers, and like druids, they commune strongly with nature. Not only that, they also fill the roles of healers and advisors in their society. Alas, I am not a full-blooded orc and I doubt that I can learn from them. Not that I won't try seeking them, or else I would be unworthy of my title as the Madman! But even if I will do that one day, in the time being I will find my fortune among mankind.
What is it that I wish to achieve? Hmm… after a long time contemplating, I believe 'tis to grow in power through knowledge and experience. As they say, knowledge is power. But I once believed that knowledge can be gained only by reading books. ! How little I knew that time.
I remember that time when an old man came to our house. It was raining hard that time. We treated him well as a guest. He revealed to me and Mother that he was a wanderer. I remember him very clearly, he had one blind eye hidden in the shadows of his hood. He told us stories of his journeys and I was baffled at how little I knew despite the various books I have read. The old man chuckled, "You should wander far, seek wisdom from everything. Books let you know things, but you won't experience them if you never travel."
My mother told me, someday I would be a Ruler of Kings. In honor of her, I will do my best to fulfill my destiny. To do that, I need to gain power. The first thing that comes to mind is learning magic. Magic is a versatile power, and I trust that I can be of use to others in many ways if I master magic.
And so, my (Hopefully) great tale begins…
A Sentimental Value: Portrait of Father
I searched around my ruined house. So many memories. The laughter, the tears, the warmth of Mother's embrace. May these memories never leave my mind.
Yet, what I found in the rubbles was Mother's painting of Father. Father is depicted as a muscular orc with red hair and beard. He is clad in a fur armor that reveals his ripped chest. A heavy-looking fur cloak drapes from his shoulder. Father has a scar running through his left eye.
Mother always cherished this portrait of Father. I will keep it safe for her. I do not know where Father is right now or if he is even still alive. But if he is, I hope this portrait will lead me to him.
Ever since I entered the Town for the first time, I could not shake off the feeling of being watched by someone. I know the feeling very well. I feared that someone might have ill intent towards me, maybe because I am a Half-orc. Or maybe someone just wanted to rob me. I kept my relaxed walking pace as I intentionally moved towards an intersection near what seems to be a marketplace. There was quite a lot of people here, and I could spot several guards patrolling the area. If whoever it was wanted to harm me, I could just shout and have the guards upon them.
But let's see if I can turn this situation to my favor myself. I was already near the intersection, and I quickly turned right, out of the sight of this person who followed me. Quickly I drew my knife and hid in a cart. I waited. Not long, I saw an old man, frantically looking around for me. He had thinning white hair, and a short beard. His mustache formed an impressive handlebar. I was quite surprised at how he dressed. He didn't seem like someone who would rob me or anything. He was dressed far too luxuriously for that. Still, I wanted to know why he followed me, and didn't want to take any chances.
So when his back was onto me, I leapt onto him. , I swear I could hear something creak when he fell to the ground and I was on top of him. With him pinned down, I started asking him questions.
I found out that the old man's name is Beorlan, and he was a friend of my mother. In fact, he owed her his life, and he never had the chance to repay the favor before she died. However the way he talked about Mother makes me suspect that he saw Mother as something more than a friend. Beorlan is a politician in the Town. That explains the fine robe he was wearing. The old man heard that I was travelling here, and he was curious about Mother's Half-orc son. I sense the animosity that he's projecting onto the fact that I'm a Half-orc, but it's something I am already used to and I don't hold anything against him for that. Still, despite his rather angry tone since I ruined his fine clothing, he is actually quite nice and is willing to help me as a way to repay his unpaid favor to Mother.
Hm… a politician. Nice. I don't know whether I can trust him or not but he can be a valuable ally to me. Especially on my road to become a Ruler of Kings.
Thurea Kingdom of Hrothwulf
Vivid dreams have been a common thing in my life, but this one is not just vivid. It's real. Mother… how happy I am to see her again. She introduced me into this spirit realm where I am to build my own kingdom.
My kingdom is vast and glorious. I see the way my people look at me. They see a tyrant. But those who know me well understand my reasons. I will bring glory and prosperity to my people, even though I have to become the villain and sacrifice some.