Gorun is a towering half-orc zealot, forged in war and bound to the will of the Overlord. Scarred by conquest and raised in brutality, he believes himself a weapon—purified through pain, loyal without question. But buried beneath the fanatic exterior lie fading memories of a gentler past, and gods who once asked for reverence, not slaughter.
- Gender
- Male
- Eyes
- Yellow
- Hair
- Dark Brown
- Skin Tone/Pigmentation
- Deep Gray
- Height
- 1,95 m
- Weight
- 127 kg
Appearance
Physical Description
Gorun stands tall at 1.95 meters, his powerful frame a product of both his barbarian lineage and years of brutal conditioning under the Overlord’s army.
Body Features
His skin is a deep grayish-green, marked with ritual scars carved into his flesh during his indoctrination.
Facial Features
His dark, unkempt dreadlocks hang down his back, though the top is pulled together and secured with a leather strap.
His lower tusks protrude slightly, accentuating his hardened features, and his jaw is strong, always clenched as if expecting a fight.
Identifying Characteristics
His body bears the weight of countless battles—old wounds, faded bruises, and scars that tell a history he refuses to acknowledge.
Apparel & Accessories
He wears commoner’s traveling clothes—a simple tunic and pants, torn in places from past blows, and stained with old, dried blood and dirt from his long time on the road. Despite their condition, he wears them without shame.
His weapon of choice is a massive greataxe, notched and chipped from years of use, but still a deadly instrument of war. At his belt, he carries a crude iron pendant symbolizing the war god he was forced to worship—a symbol he grips in moments of uncertainty, though he does not know why.
Mentality
Personal history
I was born into a proud and ancient tribe, a people who lived in harmony with the land, worshiping gods of nature, the hunt, protection, and bounty. Our village stood at the foot of a great mountain, deep within the forest, beside a sacred river said to flow from the heart of the mountain itself. It was a source of strength, endurance, vitality, and long life, a gift from the gods that sustained us.
From a young age, I saw the balance of the wild firsthand—the hunt, the kill, the respect for nature’s cycle. I remember watching hunters drag back the carcasses of monsters like owlbears, proof of the dangers that lurked beyond our borders.
Since long ago, our village had been a vassal of a nearby kingdom, but we were granted autonomy in exchange for a tithe—animal skins, furs, and goods. In return, we were left in peace to follow our ways. But peace never lasts.
A wizard came with an army of orcs and conquered the kingdom, declaring himself ruler. He became known simply as the Overlord. His forces swept across the land, slaughtering all who resisted. At first, he ignored the outskirts, and so we continued to pay our tribute, unwilling to bend to his rule but unable to resist his might.
Perhaps my very existence was proof of the Overlord’s cruelty. My mother never spoke of it, but I was born a half-orc—a mark of something unforgivable done to her by the tithe collectors.
As the years passed, the Overlord’s demands grew heavier, his grip tighter. We still refused to fight for him, though we paid his price. The nearby clan chiefs swore oaths that we would never fully submit. That defiance sealed our fate.
I was no older than six when the Overlord turned his gaze upon us. His army descended upon our lands, slaughtering our warriors and burning our homes. My family, my people—erased.
But I survived. An orc warrior took me, whether out of pity or cruelty, I do not know. I became his squire—his pet. A slave, molded by torment and bloodshed. They broke me, reshaped me, taught me their ways. I was stripped of my past, my name, my gods.
They made me a weapon.
Through pain, I was purified. Through war, I was enlightened. I was taught that the gods of death and battle were the only truth, that the Overlord was their voice in this world. My old life was weakness—forgotten and buried beneath the weight of my new purpose. I served with unwavering devotion, believing that I had been saved, reforged in the fire of war.
And now, I have been given a mission.
The Overlord’s enemies in a nearby kingdom have begun accepting refugees—survivors, rebels, heretics. I am to infiltrate their lands, find where they are hiding, and report back. These people are not escaping; they are running from enlightenment. They do not know what is best for them. But they will learn.
And yet... in the dead of night, when I sleep, I remember.
The warmth of the hearth. The prayers to gods who protected, not demanded. The laughter of my people.
But these are heretical thoughts.
The Overlord is my master. He is the only truth.
Isn’t he?
Education
Trained from childhood by orcish warriors in the Overlord’s army, Gorun’s education was one of blood, discipline, and survival. He was taught the art of war, obedience to command, and the tenets of the Overlord’s harsh doctrine. He cannot read or write fluently but knows tactics, battlefield signals, and the language of violence.
Employment
Enforcer and scout for the Overlord’s army. Tasked with infiltration, intimidation, and execution of the Overlord’s will. Operates alone or with elite warbands to root out rebellion, eliminate resistance, and spread the doctrine of conquest.
Mental Trauma
Gorun suffers from repressed childhood memories and identity fragmentation. Raised by those who destroyed his people, he was indoctrinated to believe in the righteousness of his captors. Though outwardly loyal, he battles intrusive memories of warmth, family, and forgotten gods—visions that leave him shaken and conflicted. He suppresses guilt, grief, and doubt with violence, fearing that to remember is to unravel.
Morality & Philosophy
Gorun is a zealot, wholly convinced of his purpose—or at least, that is what he tells himself. He speaks in harsh, clipped tones, rarely wasting words unless necessary. He is disciplined, loyal, and utterly ruthless in battle, executing orders with deadly efficiency. He believes he has been reforged, purified in war. But beneath the fanaticism, something stirs. Memories of warmth, of peace, of gods who did not demand endless bloodshed.
Known Languages
Common, Orcish
Personality
Motivation
Gorun's motivation is driven by a need to prove himself worthy of Arjesh's favor through relentless conquest and adherence to the god's teachings. His actions are fueled by the belief that strength and domination are the only paths to true power. Deep down, however, he is haunted by the memory of his lost tribe and the warrior who saved him, creating an internal struggle between his indoctrinated loyalty to Arjesh and the flickering remnants of his past. Ultimately, Gorun seeks to assert his dominance on the world, both to earn the divine approval he craves and to suppress the doubts that threaten his existence.
Likes & Dislikes
Likes:
- Victory in Battle – Gorun thrives in the heat of combat, where his strength and discipline are tested, and he can prove his worth to Arjesh.
- Physical Strength – He admires displays of raw power, seeing them as a reflection of Arjesh’s will.
- The Warrior’s Code – Gorun appreciates the bond shared between warriors who live and die by the blade, as it reminds him of the warrior who saved him.
Dislikes:
- Weakness and Cowardice – He has no tolerance for those who hesitate or show mercy, viewing them as a blight upon the battlefield.
- The Worship of Other Gods – Gorun condemns any faith that isn't aligned with Arjesh, seeing it as heresy or weakness.
- Betrayal and Deception – Given his suspicious nature, Gorun despises lies and sees any form of deceit as an unforgivable weakness.
Hygiene
Gorun's hygiene is minimal, focused solely on practicality rather than personal care. His clothes are stained with blood and dirt, a testament to his unrelenting battles. His dreadlocks are loosely tied, unkempt and rarely cleaned, while his body is covered in scars from countless fights. Gorun pays little attention to cleanliness, viewing it as irrelevant compared to the pursuit of war and conquest. His scent is a mix of sweat, blood, and the harshness of life on the battlefield, a constant reminder of the violence he endures.
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