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Full Name: Torrin’Talaruorra, Orra for short
Orra is 6’ 6” tall. He weighs 263 lb. He is tall and broad, well-muscled, and has excellent posture. His scales (which cover his entire body) are a dusty red color, like old faded bricks. His characteristic frills on the sides of his head are specially worn and faded, and some are missing from years of close combat. He has short, spiky, dark red / brown “hair” scales covering the top and back of his head.
Though human eyes often can’t distinguish many features between dragonborn, friends of Orra know: he has a squared-off, uncommonly blunt snout he has a wide mouth which is almost always turned up at the sides in a smile he has golden-yellow eyes of a very attractive color, large for a dragonborn Though dragonborn can be imposing figures to those unaccustomed to their presence, Orra rarely provokes such negative reactions. To most humanoids he is very regal looking and he carries himself in a dignified manner, not a threatening or hulking one. In addition to his open, friendly face, most of the sharp edges of his scales have been worn smooth by the blowing sands of his desert homeland. Orra is friendly and approachable. He is gentle and generous to his friends or to those he does not know. To enemies he is cold and hard.
When nervous or distracted, little wisps of smoke often escape from his nostrils He has been known to belch a few flames after a satisfying meal He prefers red meat, and only consists on bread and trail rations when circumstances force him to Doesn’t like vegetables – they give him indigestion (not good for a firebreather) Often hums traditional dragonborn tunes during long marches
Orra is relaxed most of the time. He has a high level of confidence, thanks to his warrior training as well as the trust he has that Bahamut will protect him. He is often seen as charming because of his noble appearance and his good manners. He is always polite and generally formal.
Orra is always hopeful, and expects good from others. He doesn’t get depressed very often; he has trained himself to shrug off gloomy thoughts. He knows Bahamut is watching out for him so he forgets the bad and hopes for a better tomorrow.
Since he is so optimistic about finding good in others, Orra almost always gives people a lot of trust. He is not naive though, and wisdom tells him when to take back his trust. He never breaks his word, and naturally trusts others. However, he does not give second chances freely.
Orra’s First Kill
The Sandfollow desert. In the days of Orra’s youth it was dry but it fairly teemed with life. From the smallest insects to the rodents hiding among the rocks, to the hardy green cacti, to the larger creatures that roamed the dunes and brush, the desert was full of living things. The sky was filled with both birds of prey and scavengers. The land was also inhabited by many strange creatures, some foul and some majestic. The greatest of these was called “Thunderlizard” by the Humans, and “Brother Lightning” by the elves. Among the Dragonborn tribes living on the outskirts of the desert he was known as Halud-Batar, “King of the Desert”.
“Torrin’Talaruorra, it is time for us to leave!” shouted Heskan’Tor, Orra’s father. Orra finished his daily prayers to Bahamut and raced from his grandmother’s tent. Today was the day that his father would take him into the great desert. Though already 8 years old, until now he had only ever left the vicinity of his tribe to venture into the forest. He had become something of an experienced wood-cutter, serving his family and the tribe as a whole by felling trees and harvesting wood for building and for fires. He had grown strong and well built and he swung a large axe with ease and skill.
Orra’s father had determined that it was time to expose Orra to more of the world and to teach him something of adulthood.
Together Heskan’Tor and his son walked out of the tribe’s encampment and into the desert. It was still early morning, the sun was just peaking over the horizon. As they progressed, the grass grew thinner and became brown and scrubby. They soon were walking in a stony, dry, barren region. Ahead in the distance Orra could see great golden sand dunes. As they walked his father pointed out tidbits of nature, most of which Orra would otherwise have missed. They paused in the shadow of a large rock to watch an eagle soar overhead. Heskan’Tor explained that there must be water nearby, since the eagle was hunting small rodents who fed on the plants that were nourished by small pools of moisture among the crags in the rock. Orra basked in the open sun and in the words of his father. He felt at home in the wide brown expanse. The wind blowing on his face brushed sand against his scales and it felt right.
After hours of wandering they happened upon a small oasis. Heskan’Tor declared it their stopping point for the sharing of the mid-day meal. Together they ate and Orra asked his father what they sought. “My Orra, this day we will gain the wisdom of the Desert Kings”, said his father. “We will find Halud-Batar and we will seek a boon. I do not know what his answer will be, but it will set you on the path of your future”. Orra listened to these words and did not understand their surface meaning. But something stirred deep inside him that combined with his surroundings to produce a profound sense of right, of belonging. “How will we find him, father?” Orra asked. “He will find us, son” was the reply.
Soon they continued their trek into the dunes. They wandered up and down, now thoroughly surrounded by sand. Orra looked back but he saw no sign of his tribe or the grassy hills they had left. The sun beat down on him and he began to feel overheated and tired. He wondered what this business of finding his future path was all about, and whether there was any water along the way. His father showed no signs of weariness or thirst, and Heskan’Tor’s yellow eyes shone brightly as he scanned the surrounding crests of sand.
The pair arrived at the top of an especially tall dune and Heskan’Tor signaled a stop. Orra began to ask why but his father stilled him with a silent gesture and motioned for him to listen. Orra, scarcely breathing, turned his ear to the east, where his father was now pointing. In the distance he heard a rumble which soon formed into a distinct drumming sound. “Orcs”, Orra thought, “so killing Orcs is to be my destiny”. But it soon became apparent as the drum sound became louder, that it was not Orcs. The drums became faster and the sound of them filled his head. They shook the earth and rattled his teeth. Gazing across the sand he now saw a massive creature galloping towards them. A single beast, the size of a Human house was charging across the dunes toward them. It was light green in color, running on four stumpy legs, twice as thick as the greatest tree Orra had ever felled. As it grew closer Orra could see that its skin was scaly and it had great sharp spines along its back. Through the thunder-like pounding of its stride he heard his father shout “Aim for the chest, boy!” as his father’s spear was thrust into Orra’s hands.
Orra, seeing that the monster was headed straight towards them and that he could not avoid it, started down the dune. “No son, wait for it here” were his father’s words. So, he knelt in the sand and planted the spear just before the top of the dune. Taking out the small hand axe of his own, Orra waited for the beast’s charge. It’s pace was terrifying and it soon was nearly upon him, hardly seeming to notice the climb up the high dune. As it reached the top it trumpeted a deafening roar and made to butt Orra with its massive snout. Dodging to one side, Orra jumped to hold the spear upright and the charging lizard impaled itself. It stumbled once, crushing Orra into the waiting sand, and then seemed to bounce off him and it rolled down the other side of the dune.
“On your feet boy!”, his father screamed at him. Orra, blinded with sand and bewildered by the crushing blow somehow stumbled to his feet. His father gave him a light shove towards the far side where the lizard had disappeared, and at the same time shouted “Now show him your breath my son. Breathe!”
His pulse pounded in his ears. He could not see straight and he was falling. He wiped a hand across his brow and blinked to clear his vision. He stumbled and found his feet. Before him was a towering mound of green scales and spikes. Damp breath from him a mouth that could swallow him in one bite fell upon him. His gaze met a huge yellow eye in the face of the great lizard. “So like my father’s” was the mad thought that rushed through his head and was gone in an instant. Then his father’s words registered, as the beast began to stir.
Such a breath as he had never thought to breathe. That part inside him that had stirred earlier seem to leap. It seemed to burst to flames inside him. From his mouth spread a huge cloud of fire, engulfing the lizard creature. It cried out, thought it seemed to Orra more like a sigh than a scream. The flames charred it and spread quickly. Orra’s father joined him in the valley of sand and together they watched the giant lizard burn.
That evening as the sun set they built a fire from scrub wood and lizard bones, which were oddly flammable. The great beast’s front tooth and its most prominent spike belonged to Orra, his father explained. The rest would be sold to the humans at great profit or used by the tribe. As the ashes rose into the darkening purple sky Orra felt a moment of sadness. He told his father of the moment when he stared into the eye of the creature and it stared back. His father only nodded in agreement.
The next morning they awoke with the sun. The embers of their fire were still smoldering, and a great column of black smoke rose into the air. Off in the distance, Orra saw a similar cloud, and felt sure it was in the direction they had come. His father confirmed that the tribe was called them back. Before they left, Orra ate the heart of the giant lizard which his father had removed the night before. It was foul at first, but Orra gave up his inhibitions and consumed it. On the journey back, Orra’s father told him more of what had taken place.
By facing the King of the Desert without fear, Orra had proved himself worthy of being a warrior. He withstood the charge of the beast without flinching, proving he could defend the tribe well. He found his breath and it was very effective, marking him as a potential hero among his people. And finally, he ate the heart of the beast, showing that he could persevere through anything. His father was impressed and told Orra so. The tribe praised Orra’s bravery which had brought riches and honor.
Later in life Orra longed to return to the deep desert and find out more about the lizard creatures with whom he had felt a strange connection but he was never able to. The demands of protecting the innocent and being a hero kept him from exploring that side of himself which had killed a beast with his breath and eaten its heart. He was never sure whether it was for the best that he kept that part of himself locked away inside. For better or worse he ignored his inner parts that the lizard had shown him, but he never strayed from the path he began that day.
- Description (above)
- Social Interaction (above)
- Magic Item: Antioch
- Fears: Orra’s greatest fear is that he won’t be able to save the people or the land that he is currently wandering. He is pained by the destruction to the landscape and the despair in the people he has met. He is dedicated to helping restore things to the way they once were but has nagging doubts that it’s even possible. He is scared that everything might be too far gone. If civilization fails there won’t be much left to restore. (I’m not sure what it was before the battle with Rellos. I don’t think he really had one, unless it was dying without ever knowing any more about his dragonborn ancestry.)
- First Kill (above)