Storm's Vengence

Ragarak
The Ragarak clan were pirates at heart. Almost more comfortable at sea than on

land. At birth the clan tradition dictates that new borns are placed in the sea and

only the ones that kick with all their strength and reach for the sweet air above are

deemed worthy to live by the sea gods. Well, cheating with salt and various floata-

tions device are quite frequent, but then again most elders figured the gods

wouldn't mind so much the extra helping hands so it is mostly overlooked.

The Ragarak Black Ships were know for their speed and agility, they mostly

roamed the harsh Coasts of Lavatar and called it home. Even among the fierce orc

tribes, they Ragaraks were known for their relentlessness and seamanship. They

raided surrounding coastal towns for a living but never taking more than they need

and never killing unless necessary. This strange reservation can be attributed to

their leader Garak Ragarak. A half orc and peerless fighter. He controlled his clan

with an iron fist bit he also understood humans very well. He randomized the raids

and minimized the damage as to not draw too much attention to his tribe from the

stronger human military naval forces. Allowing the villages to recuperate and grow

complacent before striking again. Presenting a strong enough incentive for the vil-

lagers to give without fighting. His methods were successful but not fully embraced

and understood by all the orcs. The need for destruction, the taint of Grummsh

holds some stronger than others.

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Kavak
I looked up to Garak. Being a half orc orphan myself. The clan was not an easy

place to grow up, especially for a nameless bastard half orc. In all that chaos Garak

showed me the tiniest semblance of compassion. He called me Rok and I asked

him why, “You remind me of myself when I was young, like a rok!” He often joked. A

Rok is a mix bred dog that the clans breed, a tough as nails sea dog that eats any-

thing and can survive on very little. The orcs bring them onboard for luck. I was

proud to be called Rok because it was the name Garok gave me.

I learned the human tongue and human ways from him. He often said, the key

to winning is knowing your enemy more than you know yourself. We became close.

Garak always took a liking to us orphans, going out of his way to give us opportuni-

ties to prove ourselves. He saw a kindred spirit in us and believed in us. Eventually

his closest guards were composed of mostly orphans raised by him and this drew

the ire of many.

The blood of Ghummsh runs in our veins, some more than others. Garak’s first

born was the antithesis of his father, embracing the taint of Ghummsh like babys

milk. As Garok grew older and Kavak grew stronger, they fought constantly over

everything. It was clear to all that the tribe was falling apart.

As with all things in life, chaos sows chaos. Kavak lead unsanctioned raids and

wiped out several coastal towns, drawing the vengeful eye of the human navy

upon us. All the while, we were In the midst of an ongoing dispute with a rival clan

over territories. As with most things concerning orcs, brutal physical conflict

seemed inevitable. Bad times were coming.

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Betrayal
Kavak ambushed us in the night as we prepared to parlay with the rival tribe the

next day. That was the first time I witnessed true evil. Kavak ruthlessly stabbed his

father, his own blood, in the back and then hacked his father into pieces howling

gleefully. When he needed us the most, we failed Garak. We fought as hard as we

could but were outnumbered and surprised. None of us were prepared and none

of us were spared. All that stood with Garak and all that he built was burned to the

ashes. As I waited for my death, bleeding out, covered in the blood of my friends, I

saw the darkness that emanated from Kavak, it was a shadow of the deepest black,

like a hole in the abyss…

Those of us that survived were worse off then those that left us. I awoke in

chains drenched in blood and pain as they traded us as slaves to other tribes.

I vowed vengeance on Kavak as I bid my time in the slave pits.

I was alone but not without purpose. I began to understand the true necessity

of power.

The Slave Pits of Marvia

In the slave pits of Marvia I let my mind go and honed my physical skills. Strangely,

surrounded by death, without options my mind became clearer than ever. My only

solace from this strange reverie, came from a priest of Kormus and his young

daughter. The priest’s name was Gavrel and his daughter was called Amera. Gavrel

was wise but unassuming. Amera was… an Oasis in the desert. Warm, loving, and

carefree. They tended to the slaves of Marvia out of the kindness of their hearts;

the rulers of Marvia allow it to keep their products as fresh as possible. I often

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feared for the safety of the priest and his daughter and kept a close watch. Eventu-

ally we became friends and I was not alone anymore.

Chaos sows chaos, and pain sows pain. One hot and humid summer, an alter-

ation between a slave and a guard became a full scale rebellion. Blood ran the

streets, screams filled the air. Old hatreds die hard, especially the hatreds that were

grown from mistreatment and prejudice. The only thing I could think off was to get

Gavrel and Amera out. I found them huddled near the guard house, amid loud ar-

guments. Luckily some of the slaves still had a sense of decency left and were argu-

ing as to the fate of the father and daughter, but it looked to be a losing argument

especially for Amera. As I broke the neck of one of the slaves, and bashed the

brains in of the other, they began to see my point and left us alone. We made haste

through the chaos. But the real slaughter started when the Royal Marvian Guard

appeared to ‘pacify’ the rebellion which now consisted of pretty much every citizen

of Marvia that had long been unhappy with the Marvian rulers.

The streets ran red.

I know not how we made it out of there.

Gavrel later told me that he's never seen anyone take so much damage and

not fall. No soilder or mob was able to stop us. I remember not, but I know that the

blood of Ghummsh runs thick in my veins and it was not my time to die. Curse or

no curse, I know it got us out of Marvia alive.

Solace
I woke up days later in a modest cottage in a small rural farm town. Salvera was a

quiet town on the outskirts of Marvia, and the home of Gavrel and Amera. Anyone

sane would think that I was gone for, but Gavrel and Amera were different, they

waited for me to come back. For that, I am eternally grateful.

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 Orcs are not everyone’s favorite house guests to say the least. The villagers

were at best cold, at worst openly hostile to my existance. Gavrel being the only

priest of the town helped to eventually alleviate the situation, insisting that I was his

relative and no harm to the village. I worked as a farm hand and did my share once

I was able to walk. Eventually the villagers began to tolerate my existence few even

became friendly.

Those were the best times of my life. No more blood, no more evil. No more

loss. Just the earth under the plow, the sun on my back and going home everyday.

For home it was. Gavrel taught me the ways of the Storm lord and Amera taught

me how to smile from the bottom of my heart. Amera had a strong spirit, the events

of Marvia had changed her carefree ways but didn’t change her belief in the good

of people. With her I began to see as she did, that even blood drenched pirates

like me had a chance at goodness. But thinking back, sometimes I wish I was not so

naive, for then I might have been able to protect them.

Testament
Strange things began happening around town. Missing farm animals, strange sym-

bols. A dark brooding atmosphere engulfed the town. It had been a particularly

bad year for the town, the long drought had brought everyone on their knees. The

war between Marvia and the Northern Barbarians had grown in scale and devasta-

tion. Worry loomed on everyones mind. It was then, the Cult of Vren appeard.

The Followers of Vren believed that all the calamities are the signs that the an-

cient Deep one, the mad god KravaGhul’s second coming is at hand, and destruc-

tion is eminent. Only the one true god Vren can save the world from KravaGhul.

Desperation breeds desperation.

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 Out of desperation the villagers started to flock to the worship of Vren. Gavrel

was concerned but believed it a temporary matter that will pass eventually. The

eventuality never happened. Some of the villagers started to turn their hatred to-

wards the house of Storm. Vandalism and harassment became a weekly, then daily

happening. I urged Gavrel and Amera to leave town for some time until this blows

over but they firmly believed that things will turn around. There was no talking

them away from their home. I became worried, for I have seen evil and how evil al-

ways breeds hatred.

Hatred sows vengeance.

Things did eventually turn around… for the worst. On a stormy night, they

came for us. The storm picked up to hailing winds, almost as if the Storm Lord him-

self was letting his anger be known. But the wind also covered their noises, in my

complacent state, used to the farming life, I was taken first by surprise. They actual-

ly had a plan and were prepared for the evil they were about to do. They were un-

usually cruel that night, it seemed the night has brought out the deepest evil within

all of them. I struggled futilely and was beaten repeatedly and tied up, I knew what

would happen, that evil has found me and it will break my world again. Again, I

would have to watch helplessly.

They accosted Gravel and Amera and tied them to the columns at the front of

the Church. This they did without remorse, but with a sense of glee, like the specta-

tors at hanging waiting for the rope to snap. An offering to Vren is what they said as

they set the church on fire with Gavrel and Amera tied to it.

I think I screamed or I cried. I remember not. I remember Amera's tearful face

as she bid me farewell. I remember Gavrel's sad face as he said, "Live. My son, your

time has not come yet. May the Storm Lord guide your path.".

The pain was unbearable.

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 They made me watch, probably seemed a fitting way to express their hatred for

the monster they see in me. But I now see, clear as day, who the real monsters

are…

As their dying screams faded I felt drained. Something snapped inside of me.

21, I counted. 21 faces enthralled by the evil flames they have set upon this world.

My hopes and dreams died that night in the screaming fire that engulfed

everything. Through the tears and agony I thought why did God lead me here?

Have I not paid for my sins yet? Why not take me instead? The questions piled on

as they beat me to the ground screaming fervently. I saw each of their 21 faces

clearly, their expressions contorted in a mix of glee and anger. Satisfied their work,

I felt the crude weapons piercing my body. But there was no more pain as I lost

consciousness, just a cold and empty feeling in my stomach. They left me there to

bleed out and die alone. again.

I don't know how long I laid there in the wet mud, but the thunder storm woke

me. It was there, covered in my own blood, gazing at the burnt church and my

burnt life that I heard his voice through the sizzling flames and I finally understood.

As the dark clouds parted and that bright searing lighting stroke me I finally under-

stood my true purpose. All the pain, all the loss, were to be the testament of my

faith to the Blind Justicar on this earth. Now that I bear the scars of evil done, I shall

have my vengeance in the name of the Stormbringer. I will be His relentless

weapon against all that is Evil. Like the lighting and thunder that are his to com-

mand, I will be the hand that delivers his swift and blind justice.

My name is Gavrok Stormborn and this is my testatment.

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The Black Hound of Salvera
In the coming rain season that year officials reported 21 deaths in Salvera. Man,

Woman, young, and old. The times of the murders occurred randomly but judging

by the amount of time and the circumstances of the deaths, authorities believe it to

be the work of a patient and vicious killer. The only 2 consistent and visible links

were: 1, the deceased victims were all believed to be active followers of Vren and 2,

they all happens during thunder storms. Eyewitness accounts were mostly incoher-

ent descriptions from the minds of frightened villagers that were widely inconsis-

tent. Some spoke of a dark hulking creature with glowing red eyes and fangs, while

some spoke of a huge man with a dogs head, and its savagery more animal than

human. The bodies when discovered were all burned to a crisp making further in-

vestigation and determination of reason of death difficult. When questioned, the vil-

lagers of Salvera spoke of an ancient myth that during a thunder storm, the fire

breathing Black Hound will ride the Storm God's lightning bolts and take the souls

of the sinners back to the Stormbringer for final judgement and justice. Many of the

villagers strongly believe that the Black Hound has taken the victims for their sins,

but for what sin they could not or would not say. The mysterious strand of death

ends suddenly at 21 with no further incidents reported. Investigation has been sus-

pended until further evidence can be found.