Gharol Bloodmaul

The story of Gharol Bloodmaul begins in the bloody months of slaughter that followed the failed invasion of Kaerok by the Gaellen Pact. Gharol’s clan wandered for years, assuming a nomadic existence. Eventually, they found a place to call their own: an oasis in the Krokhan Desert. Surrounded by stony crags and trackless wastes, the water was nonetheless pure and cool, the soil around was rich and fertile, and wild game was plentiful. The Orcs built a new life for themselves, isolated from all those who might wish them harm. For centuries, they lived in peace, but they never forgot the lessons of war; the clan maintained a readiness for battle, though many hoped never to have to fight again. It was into this idyllic if somewhat hardscrabble life that Gharol was born. The daughter of the clan chieftain, Gharol grew to adulthood knowing that she was destined to lead her people. But she desired more. Weaned on the tales of the Gaellen War, and the heroes of old, Gharol desired to taste the fruits of battle for herself. When she at last assumed the mantle of Chieftain, Gharol gathered a band of young warriors around her and led raiding parties against the Nomads that roamed the desert. Soon, she set her sights on the trade caravans of Velyzar and Ireth. This was to be her undoing, and the undoing of her clan. When Gharol made an attack on a particularly tempting slave-caravan bound for Ireth, she and her band found themselves outmatched for the first time. They were driven back by Undead guards, who felt neither pain nor fatigue, as well as the dark magic of the sorcerers who controlled them. Orcs were seared to ashes or combusted into clouds of blood. Many were captured. Gharol and her remaining warriors retreated to the safety of the oasis, but the mage-Iords of Ireth had no intention of letting potential specimens get away. They questioned those Orcs they captured and forced them to reveal the location of their home. The mage-Iords acted quickly. Picturing the oasis in their mind’s eyes, they turned the water of its many pools into foaming, fiery blood, from which Undead warriors erupted by the score, attacking the inhabitants. Taken by surprise, the Orcs nonetheless fought bravely in defense of their homes and families. But they were no match for the Undead horde. After a fierce conflict, Gharol’s clan was reduced to a few bloodied individuals, captured for the amusement of lreth’s mage-lords, including Gharol herself. Gharol and her fellow captives endured months of torture at the hands of their captors. The mage-lords conducted experiments to test the limits of the Orcs’ endurance and strength. One by one, Gharol’s companions succumbed to their captors’ attentions and perished, until only she remained. Gharol could not say whether her survival was due to some twist of fate, or her own resilience, but it did not come without a price. The alchemical experiments of her captors had taken their toll on her body, changing it in strange ways. When angered or hurt, Gharol’s blood burned like fire and became mutable. Her musculature swelled, she sprouted a thick, whip-like tail and bony protrusions erupted from her flesh, forming a carapace that merged with the tattered armor she still wore. Her feet twisted into hooves, and her features warped into a monstrous visage. To say her captors were pleased was an understatement. The only flaw from their perspective was that Gharol returned to normal after a period of time. But they were certain that with further experimentation they could prevent this. They would not get the chance. Gharol was not idle in her captivity. After some experimentation of her own, she found that she could channel her fury and pain and willingly activate the transformation, by slicing her flesh and spilling her own flame-blood. She hid this discovery from her captors and ceased her resistance, so that they came to believe she was broken in both mind and spirit. As a result, the guards became lax in their duties, seeing her as just another cowed slave. She gave them no trouble as they escorted her to and from the laboratories of the mage-lords day in and day out, until they ceased paying attention to her entirely. Gharol seized her chance. One day when the guards came to take her to the laboratories, she transformed. Gharol smashed the life from the guards and used her great hooves to kick herself a path to freedom over their mangled corpses, claiming an immense hammer from one and coating it in her magma-like life-force to lend it even more might. She then freed other captives in the slave-pens, Orc, Human, and otherwise, and a general revolt ensued, in which Gharol messily slew many guards and, in the confusion, escaped with as many of the slaves as would follow her. Gharol led her ragtag band of survivors out of Ireth and into the desert. She guided them to the oasis where her clan had made their home, hoping that it would provide them a refuge as it had her people once before, and ordered her sorcerers to ensure never again could the oasis waters be used by the necromancers. Since then, she has drawn others to her banner: Orcs, Skinwalkers, and Ogryn seeking a strong leader and a place to settle; Nomads, hoping to plunder the riches of Ireth, and other escapees. Her tiny band has swelled into an army; one with the potential to be a true threat to the authority of Ireth. In the months since, Gharol and her forces have defeated no fewer than three expeditions sent to capture or destroy them, leading to much consternation among the mage-lords. So much so, in fact, that some claim that Vizier Ovelis himself has now taken an interest in the matter. Regardless, Gharol Bloodmaul now prepares her new clan for all-out war against Ireth, and woe betide any who stand in her way…