A brute of unrelenting power. A warrior of indomitable wrath. A friend of unwavering loyalty. This was Haradim, a Half-Orc whose name would carry more weight than he could ever possibly have known.
DEEDS OF LEGEND:
Decapitation of the Scion of the Orc horde Drowning The Gangster of the Grubslums, and feeding his soul to the Bulgura of Wrath
Destruction of the Godchild
Felled at the Battle of the Citadel LEGACY:
Half-Orcs named Haradorcs, an eponym of Haradim
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Half-Orc had humble origins, as the best of heroes always do. He worked, labored, racketeered and fought. He took the fall for a loved one, and was swept back up to the mountains of his birth, imprisoned in the place he once called home. And then … a time of after pain … a time after wandering … a time when the rage inside threatened to cascade out of him, to boil the land in lava and flame … he found the sage.
He trained in the mountains and trained in the crags, he trained in deep gullies and clifftops high. The sage taught him patience, the sage taught him repose. But most importantly of all, he taught Haradim the art of peace. When the sage passed, the Half-orc took up his legendary sword and descended the mountains once more … This time, with the fire of rage wielded as a weapon.
And through incident and accident, the will of gods, or the curse of devils, he became 2nd Horseman. The Half-Orc fought zealously for his companions; rushed headlong into the foe, striking man and monster in twain. And though he kept his heart to himself, it slowly opened like a lotus flower, and his affinity for his new family grew.
But disharmony stalked the barbarian, as he tracked the threat unveiled … He lay down with a wicked witch to save a friend dear; was gravely wounded by a mortal foe of shared blood; to have his precious katana stolen, corrupted, defiled; and met his nemesis, a tyrant of the slums, who persecuted him through days and nights a many.
Slowly, but unstoppably … the cloth of peace Haradim had ardently wove, slowly began to unravel. The fabric fell apart, and rage swam back to the surface, gulping the air in ragged breaths, each time it reemerged. Twined with the curse of the katana, it made him commit sins unthinkable - violence unimaginable.
But in the depths of darkness, the hero fought back. He wouldn’t let the fire consume him again, nor would he let the world be set ablaze. And, maybe most importantly of all, he wouldn’t let Takhal down.The Half-Orc's rise from the ashes of his own rage to the mastery of his own destiny, was nothing short of mythic.
Haradim proved there was nothing ‘half’ to Half-Orcs. No half-friendship nor half-trust. With deeds, not words, he showed every Half-Orc is anything but; they are beings brimming with character, charged with personality. They lack nothing, and the truth is ... they are, and forever were, full, not half.
And so, he shall be remembered as Haradim, The Ragestorm, he who showed charge, valor and courage in the face of entropy. He who gave his people hope, strength, and, most significantly, dignity.