Bahloog the Warlord of the Grinning Skulls, Furious Fanatic

Role

Chapter 8

As his mangled body hit the ground the orc's soul awoke at the pit.
At once a rush of laughter flooded into his head jeering and
jabbing whispering dark and wretched things. "Weak orc, useless
orc." "You are only good as a slave, you are no Warlord."
The orc had long lashed out againt these tainted spirits in
his head but he has succumbed. Feelings of dread and fear
crept over him masking his rage and ferocity, pushing his proud
orc strength deep into the bowels of his being. He is a worthless
orc not strong enough to stand beside the chief as a warlord, only
fit to serve him as a slave. As the creatures relentless beatings
continue he looses the urge to charge head strong into battle as
he had loved in the past. Instead choosing to flee and hide, the
laughing voices pushing him deeper into the darkness of caves.
He had once aspired to be considerd a Lug among the Grinning Skull
Clan but had failed this aswell, instead learning to bring others
under heel to hide behind. This orc is a coward. He feels he is
underserving of the mark bestowed upon him by his Lord Morius, the
Orc's once proud rage now extinguished behind self loathing and fear.
As he stood to once again collect his corpse he looked down at a puddle
in the temple. Feelings of digust crept over him and shadows of rage
filled his being. Spitting at the puddle he wiped his once fearsome
warpaint from his face and made his way to his mangled corpse.

Role

Chapter 7

The winds howled through the dark mountains around Akan. Two large orcs
swat the foolish dwarven guards aside like children as they charged
towards the altar with ferver only an orc could possess. Heeding the
words of the wise Immortal Morius, Bahloog aimed to desecrate the holy
altar of the dwarves and Grogruh was going to help him. Sizing one
another up for the bloody ritual about to begin, their unholy act was
interrupted by none other than the wretched elf Ueradinl. This was
the very elf the great lord Morius had expressed an interest in as
he marked Bahloog. Retreating to the village Bahloog was badly wounded
within the tunnels below the village. Escaping to the throne he hid and
watched as the two invaders left the village. Calling upon the other
Warlord the two orcs bounded once again to the altar of the dwarves.
The two orcs spilled blood upon the holy place slashing at eachother
with unrivaled savagery. Taking holy artifacts into their hands they
Began to process of desecrating the temple. Fumbling with the process
Bahloog failed in the ritual and the voices once again became loud.
Gritting his teeth he watched as Grogruh defiled his relics tainting
the dwarven place of worship. Cackling with delight Bahloog wasted no
time in telling Ueradinl what the orcs had done, and being a filthy
Fortman the elf arrived to survey the wretched act. Stepping out from
his cover within the Dwarven mines his trap was set. The elf charged
within the caverns slashing at the orcs slave with reckless abandon.
Seeing his chance Bahloog swing his massive hammer at Ueradinl's weapon
smashing it from his puny hand. Pahgrenar wasted no time in grabbing the
elf and smashing his back over his knee. Cackling Bahloog surveyed the
elf laying on the cold stone ground. Jeering him relentlessly the orc
grabbed at his other dagger sending it across the room. The elf had
escaped but not before leaving his two wretched daggers behind.
Wasting no time Bahloog send the filthy knifes to lord Morius and
made his way, frothing in blood and gore to the temple of Akan.
Steeped in rage and elf blood he carried out his grusome task desecrating
the temple in the name of Lord Morius. As the ritual was completed
the jeering voices in the orc's head began to quiet and he felt stronger
in his faith of unbridled rage.

Role

Chapter 6

Grunting Bahloog walked into the great Morius' temple. The sound of
snickering filled the orcs head as he stumpled into the many pews
within the church. Groping at his head, the beast tore at his face
making vain attempts at silencing the voices. Within his simple mind
he can hear all the laughing, all the jeering, all the jokes he has
suffered from his countless murderers. He is falling into madness.
Wincing the beast pushed himself onwards into the church desperatly
Seeking the guidance of the Lord Morius. Taking out his massive sword
the orc plunged the blade deep within his flesh calling out to his
dark lord. The room fell silent as a tomb as the blood dripped onto
sticky pools on the floor. And then like dark mist The lord of vices
poured from the altar. And he spoke. He spoke of the orcs strength,
the strength of faith, and the strength of the orc's unholy rituals.
as the orc listened to the immortal the voices seemed to almost quiet
as if they feared the lord. And then without warning the Immortal placed
his finger upon the beasts forhead burning a wretched hole into his small
festering brain. As the Immortal withdrew his finger the voices seemed to
almost quiet, loud laughing replaced with quite malicious whispers. The
Immortal then spoke of the filthy elf Ueradinl, remarking on the scars
the elf had left upon the orc in both body and mind. He told the orc that
when these elves cut the flesh of the orc the Immortal felt he was being
cut himself. Bahloog would not let this happen again. As Morius began
to withdraw back into whence he came the orc once again plunged his blade
into his scarred flesh. An offering of blood to the Lord of Vices. With
the voices within his head brought under yoke the orc left the church in
search of someone to eat.

Role

Chapter 5

"This Orc is not a joke!" he screamed as he smashed his massive weapon
into the wall. He had been killed again, by another elf no less. He had
been ran through the mud, kicked and beaten as a child would be.
Rage fills his being, he doesnt know how to kill them. Death after
death the rage festers in him like a septic wound. Tearing at the space
where is ears used to be he lets out a blood curdling scream. " No more
laughin" he howled as he smashed his massive fist into the wall.
Grunting his vision passed a muck filled puddle on the ground.
Peering into it he saw the face of the jester he had come to wear.
This was not the face of a Warlord of the Grinning skull, this was the
warpaint of a clown. Smashing his face into the puddle below him
he furiousily rubbed his face with his massive hands. Working like
an orc possessed thick paints and dyes connected with his scarred
and beaten face. Grunting with satisfaction he gazed upon his work
in the reflection of the filthy puddle. A bright white skull rested upon
his face where a jester had before. His long, red, macabre grin clashing
with the stark white of the skull. Smashing his fist into the wall he
made his way back into the village.

Role

Chapter 4

"Such a predicament, you poor, poor, lost thing." The voice seemed
to be all around him. Uncloaking himself the Immortal Morius revealed
himself. He explained to Bahloog there was but one thing that he could carry
with him always. Confused Bahloog asked the Immortal what it was.
"Faith" the immortals voice boomed echoing throughout the dungeon.
Morius explained to the Orc what was expected of him to gain his freedom
Bahloog would be an envoy of rage. He would crush all those who opposed
the clan and all those who would deny the rage within themselves. The orc
stood listening intently to what the immortal said. As the immortal finished
the orc felt an almost guiding presence within his calloused hands. He would
do as the immortal had commanded and use his newfound guidance to stike
out with renewed vigor and savagery. The immortal then demanded the orc
praise him. Pausing for but a moment the orc knew almost immediately
how he should show his new found devotion. Rage swelled inside him and
with everything he had he smashed his sword upon the cell wall. Dust filled
the small cell and the sounds of flying stone echoed within the dungeon. And
with that the orc was returned to the village. As soon as the orc realised where
he was he bound back towards the keep. Streaking like a flash across Thera he
found himself once again face to face with the concubine. As he raised his sword
high above his head he found joy in his new purpose, and for the revenge he was
about to taste. Smashing his sword into the brood orc pieces of her corpse flew
across the room. Quickly crouching down Bahloog carved steaks from the corpse and
quickly stuffed them into his mouth. Drooling heavily as he devoured the steaks
he let out a large burp once he had finsished. Grinning he whispered to himself
"Orc nah funny now yuh?"

PK Statistics

Role

Chapter 3

Frothing at the mouth he cuts his foes down, pure rage fueling him.
As countless orcs pour from the darkened doorways of the keep
Bahloog wastes no time putting every ounce of strength he has
behind every swing of his massive weapon. Learning the ways of
the Mamlauk he focuses all the hatred and rage he feels into the
savage whomps he delivers. He has come to the Keep of the Fhalaugash
to liberate them of their iron weapons and bring them to his clan.
Killing all in his path he made his way through the cellar to the hidden
hallways of the east side of the keep. Opening a hidden door he found
the dwelling of the infamous Ogrod the Cunning. Peering around the dim
Bahloog noticed one of the concubines of the fort. Wasting no time, and
fearing no threat from the weaker Ogrod Bahloog paid the concubine
The copper she had demanded. The next thing the Mamlauk remembered
Is waking in a cell deep within the forts dungeons. Panicking, the orc pushed
the cell door only to find it locked. And then he heard it. Laughing, quiet at
first but soon it echoed down the halls. The orcs of the keep mocking him.
He felt a familiar feeling creep over him like burning oil. His heart began
beating within his chest and true rage took him. Every fibre of his body
longed to be out of that cell tearing the concubine apart limb from limb.
As his heart beat harder and harder he focused it and prayed to the heavens
for his rage to be set free within the keep, an offering of piles of corpses for the
one who released him. Bahlooh stood there within the cell staring at the cell door
with pure malice when a voice, seeminly from the air itself answered his prayer.

Role

Chapter 2

Bahloog has found his home. Far from the circus that had imprisoned him
for so long he is now free to kill and pillage as he sees fit. The clan Chief
is strong and helps Bahloog where he can. Bahloog has grown strong.
Rising through the ranks of the village Bahloog could not help but
notice the savagery of the Mamlauk warriors. The weight of the weapons,
the flying gore it was all too much for Bahloog to ignore. He keeps his
voice hardly above a whisper as he has found it usefull for tricking
his prey in close. He is wary of the village for he has found both friend
and foe within the village huts. As he swings his massive weapons the
the weight of his past hangs over him like thick smoke. The laughing, the
jeering all driving him further in his acts of carnage. He seeks a spot
beside the throne, beside Fugmada the chief who has help raise Bahloog
since he first crawled back into Grinning Skull Village. He as as loyal
to Fugmada as an orc can be and is driven to flay the flesh of the clan's
enemies beside the chief.

Role

Chapter 1

The tinkling of chains alerts you to the movement in the corner
you see a small orc chained in the corners of a cage. This is
Bahloog the young orc. Taken from a young age from the
outskirts of Grinning Skull Village. He was been raised as a circus
performer of sorts. Being naturally clumsy and lacking in intelligence
the ringleader found his positions limited. The eventually settled upon
a jester as the sight of a painted orc should be enough to garner some
interest. The orcs training would have been considered cruel by any
others but Bahloog was used to it and he was cunning. He would tolerate
the beatings until he had a chance to escape. He would learn how to act
as his captors wished. Years in chains passed as Bahloog performed for
countless audiences stumbling about in his makeup and telling poor
jokes. He always envied the crowds freedom and sought to escape. One
evening while performing he saw his chance in a loose link in his chains.
Pulling hard he broke the link managing to escape into the wilds. Running
free for the first time in years his head flew into all that he could accomplish.
He wanted to destory all the soft people laughing at him. He remebered
the Berserkers of Grinning Skull from his childhood and decided in order
to release all his rage he had to become a berserker and destroy those who
imprisoned and laughed at him. But he was no fool his time in captivity taught
him how to keep his prey from fleeing. He would continue to wear the makeup
and continue to make the jokes until he could get close enough to cleave
the smiles off their faces.

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