Male Half-Orc Barbarian

Greatsword; 2 Hand Axes


As a young boy, betrayed by his father and framed for the death of his mother. Dagalur was forced to leave the only place he had known as home. Accompanied only with his mother’s axes, he set out to destroy the rest of the Lycanthrope clan responsible for the death of his mother.
Fueled with the blood of his Lycanthrope father and his relentless rage, Dags ventured North. Upon reaching the Werewolf Den his blood began to boil. He could sense his vison blurring into a crimson abyss of revenge and hatred. With his axes in hand, Dags charged into the Werewolf Den swinging at everything in sight. His Bloodlust was getting the better of him. Covered from head to toe in the blood of his foes he had reached the main chamber. Inside awaiting his arrival was the pack leader, the Alpha. As Dagalur entered the chamber the Alpha sat patiently. Dags sized him up immediately. Dags was ready for this. Knowing he was either going to kill or be killed. As he raised his axes, wiping blood from brow, ready to attack; the alpha stood up. Dagalur stands at a staggering 6’6” tall, but the alpha overshadowed him tremendously. Easily 8’ tall and nearing 600 lbs. of solid muscle mass. Dagalur staggered in sheer awe.
Then a booming voice roared from the behemoth. “What brings you into my home, Half-Blood?”
Dagalur was stunned that the beast had spoken, but cared not for his subtle inquiry. He was here for a purpose, to destroy, to avenge. As his eyes narrowed and his gaze grew an even deeper crimson; Dagalur spoke one word. “Death.”
In a single bound, Dagalur leaped towards the beast and buried both axes into its shoulders. The Alpha just stared at Dagalur, seemingly unaffected. Again the beast said, ”What brings you into my home, Half-Blood?!” This time a little more aggravated than before.
Without hesitation Dagalur leaped back at the beast plunging his fist into its mouth and ripping out its slimy dog-like tongue. The Alpha howled and thrashed about. Screaming in agony.
“What’s the matter, bitch? Cat got your tongue?”, said Dags. Then removed his axes from the whimpering beast. He placed both blades in an X form across the throat of the Alpha and in one quick motion removed the head of the leader of the pack.
For many years, Dags life was a blur. He spent most of his days picking fights from small Taverns in the grasslands to hunting Lycans and other monsters across all of Faerun.
Dagalur has faced death many times and nearly lost his life on one account. It was a very damp and cold evening during the last few nights of mIn a drunken haze he had stumbled into The Reaching Woods. In the depths of the woods Dags loses his footing and falls down a steep hillside. Smacking into trees and small brush. A few moments later he regained consciousness. Everything was dark and wet. His body was bloodied and bruised. Nothing he wasn’t accustomed to. Dags shook it off and stood to his feet. He heard the sounds of a man pleasing for his life and beyond that the guttural sounds of a creature he had never encountered. At this point Dags decided would investigate. 40 feet ahead he saw a man. A human man. Standing before him was a monsterous creature. Dags contemplated for a moment. Should he help a person of the race that exiled him or save him from this foul creature. The man was pleading for his life. Dags decide to intervene. As he ran up the creature the scent of sulfur was enough to make a maggot lose it lunch. Beyond that the smell of rotting flesh was bringing water to his eyes. His vision began to blur and all he could do was throw an axe and pray it stuck.
THWACK! It hit! The creature let out an awful sound. Dags ears began to bleed. He hadn’t noticed that the man he was saving had fled during the altercation. The creature then came after Dags. Stunned from the trauma from his ear drums, he fell victim to this creatures attacks. Hit after hit, Dagalur was tossed around like a ragdoll. After the creature assumed Dags was dead he retreated back to where it came.
Dagalur was barely clinging to life. With his last blinks of consciousness he watched the man he had fought to save climb down from a nearby tree.
Weeks later Dagalur awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the afternoon sun shining onto his aching skin. He slowly raised up out of the bed he was laying in. One foot after another hit the floor in a loud thud. In walked a man whom he vaguely recognized. The man from the Reaching Woods.
“Hey there, big fella. Take it easy. You’ve been through a lot.” , the man said.
Dags was confused. He had no idea where he was or how he had arrived here. Wherever here was. “Where am I and who in the dusty fuck are you!?” demanded Dagalur.
“Well, my friend, the name is Aldo. Aldo Bridge-Hammer. I’m the town Blacksmith and you are in my hometown of Daggerford.” replied the man.
“Well answer me this, Mr. Dick-Hammer; what the fuck happened to me and how in the bloody fucks did I get here?! said Dagalur. Growing more and more annoyed at his confusion.
“Well, you see friend, I was on me way back from The Dragon Coast. I was trading with some locals there. I was told they pay twice as much as any others along the Sword Coast. Anyhoo, I had gotten turned around and got myself lost in them damned woods. That’s when the Hezrou spawned from the depths of hell itself. Perhaps it was always there. I couldn’t be sure. I was far too busy pissing my britches. Thank the gods you had come along when you did. I for sure would’ve been a goner. I thought for sure it had killed you. Much to my surprise, you’re one tough bastard. I figured I owed you for saving my arse. So I loaded you up into me carriage and brought you here to me home. I suppose I did a proper job keeping you tickin’ if I do say so myself.” said Aldo boastfully.
Dagalur was baffled that this human would go through such lengths to save an abomination such as his self.
“Thanks you…” said Dags. Unsure of how to show his gratitude.
“Tis all well and fine, friend. Say if you are fancy to it, I’ve got a friend that wants to meet ya. His name be Tamas…”


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