Soron

also known as King Soron Barador.

Background
An autobiography by Soron.

'' 'I was born from a Human father and an Orc mother. Her husband or my "Orc father" ran a brothel and forced my mother to work there. Her name was Yotul. My mother was raped by one of the clients under my father's watch I would come to find out and from my birth I was thrushed out into the cold, harsh hell I would come to know as "Life". The brothel was our home run by the iron fist of my father. He hated me. Hated me so much that when he discovered I was a Half-Orc, he wanted me dead. He attempted numerous times to kill me. Even going as for as throwing me into a sack, thowing me into the abyss and feed me to the nightmares below the surface in the swamp. My mother protected me. She saved my life. She begged and pleadded and took numerous beatings as a result. But for some unknown reason, he allowed me to live. He was sure however to make my life as horrible as possible. Every day at the brothel was like a fight for survival. I would not have been able to live without my mother and my older Orc brother, Vagan. We tried to stick together at all times, but father took notice of this. He would force us to fight eachother till we were bloody pulps for his clients sick entertainment. Sometimes during fights, he would throw rabid dogs into the mix as some sick pleasure. We had to learn to kill quick. We started with the dogs, but refused to kill one another. the clients and even my own father would throw shit, rotten food, and trash at us. We didn't care. We had eachother. We could trust no one else. The war was almost over by the time me and Vagan were teens. When nearby towns and cities were raided, our father would teach us combat. We were killing machines. It was all we knew how to do. The Humans raided our town when my brother was taking the fight to the land of Elves. Leaving me to fight the Humans on the homefront. I do not remember how many I killed that night. It was a bloodbath. When I "awoke" from my rampage, bodies and burning buildings surrounded me. Then I remembered my mother. I ran to the brothel as fast as I could but it was too late. I found her violated dismebered corpse in the swamp behind. All that was left was the parts that the dogs did not like. My father said it was my fault as i cried and pleaded for forgiveness in the dirt and mud. But with prure hatered in his eyes, "It's your fault." he repeated coldly. He was right.'''