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Lobar Mac Aeron of the Bear Paw

From the Journal of Rihana Nur al Din Bint Zahirah: Lobar's Story

Sometimes living next to the Deathwaste ain't so easy. Other times it's downright hard. That's why my story is a common one instead of being something of greatness.

Description Height: 7' Hair: Coarse black, with a single, white lock Eyes: Crystal Clear blue Apparent Race: Half-orc Skin: dark brownish/green skin Age: A half-orc's age is difficult to determine, though he is clearly young. Tattoos and birthmarks: There is a tattoo of a large red bear paw on his left shoulder blade. Lobar Mac Aeron of the Bear Paw is a frighteningly large creature. His hair erupts from his head like an explosion of dreadlocks, all of which are jet-black save one forelock forever painted white by the gods. The hair itself feels more like coarse wool or yarn to the touch than human hair. His dark brown skin has a greenish tinge that is mottled and reminds one of molded tree bark. The nose is so broad and flat that it is almost non-existent. Just two dark gashes in a face defined by a large squarish jawline and a prominent craggy brow. His teeth are yellowed and his canines could pass for tusks on a smaller beast, but his teeth are one of the least imposing things on a frame this massive. His legs are twin trees that seem to merge into one gargantuan sequoia-like trunk that is his torso. Arms spread out from there like giant oaken limbs with gnarled and twisted branches for hands. Very little seems human about this so-called half-orc. In fact he seems to have more in common with the mountains, trees and beasts than any son of man. Except for one tiny detail that stands out only because it is so far out of place on a monster from a child's fable. Instead of cold black orcish, bestial yellow, or demonic red eyes he possesses crystal clear blue irises that can only be human. His great size can fool the unwary opponent. When one thinks of mighty oaks and mountains amazing speed and preternatural awareness do not come to mind. Yet Lobar has lightning quick reflexes, a super-natural awareness of his surroundings, and the speed of a racehorse. One of the ritual tasks that all warriors must complete in the Bear Paw tribe is the capture of a plains gazelle with your bare hands. His passage as a warrior was marked by a large red bear's paw on his left shoulder blade. His clothes befit a simple barbarian for he wears little more than his course woolen homespun pants and a soft padded leather tunic. His boots are roughly cobbled and look as if they were heirlooms, if one can imagine that there was once someone else of such a size. To fend off the icy mountain winter winds he wears a cloak made from the hide of a huge grizzly, another badge of courage from a rite of passage for the prospective warrior. His armament reveals the more disciplined warrior aspect of his being with their quality and upkeep. He wears a master-crafted chain shirt that protects his vitals while allowing the greatest possible freedom of movement. He keeps an immense and ornate two-handed axe named Thresher that is as tall as he is himself and is obviously magical in nature. Two hand axes hang at his belt for easy access in close quarters or for a quick throw at a distance. As for his personality, few are willing to become at ease with him near and therefore few experience it. He speaks often with companions but is extremely quiet and soft-spoken in public. His words are usually careful and slow but it is more to keep people at ease than because he is unintelligent. His actions are the opposite, however and he normally prefers to act quickly than to ponder. Overall he can be considered to be a powerful ally or foe and a loyal companion.

My father was orcish – a raider come to steal the hard won gains of my tribe. You can guess what happened. My mother was a woman I never really knew. She lost it [perished], along with some others from my village, to the Waste. Oh, she fought hard as a demon, but she took it quick and easy in the end – a creature got her from behind and she was gone before she knew it.

I tried to keep them at bay but when you're a young lad of five seasons there are only so many beasts you can slay. I count myself lucky though, for a Rider came up and pulled me from the fray. He sliced through aberration and beast alike as if he were some hero from a fireside tale. One creature managed to feign death long enough for the Rider to pass, but I saw him and my axe bit into his hand before he could hamstring my savior.

After clearing our village of the Foul Ones he thanked me for my help. I found out his name was Aeron mac Caradawc of the Bear Paw. He thought that my swing showed some promise and that my obvious size and strength for my age could lead me to great things. He took me to live in Que-Keshu, the largest city of Saelis.

Under his harsh guidance I learned the ways of the waste, how to fight with axe and sword, and how to focus my rage into something useful. Eventually I had enough seasons under my belt to head out on my own, to wander and make my mark on the world. My first thought was to head south beyond the mountains to explore the lands my people so long ago swore to protect. I am curious to meet these peoples that we have shielded from the Deathwaste for so long.

Someday I must return to complete my training and become a full-fledged Wallrider. Hopefully my travels will have renewed my faith in the world and my inner fires will burn still brighter.