It's time for another weekly writing prompt. Join along at home and let's invent some universes!



Interesting. Okay, let's see what we've got here. 


I'm going to turn this into a character study. Let's use these terms to invent a human person. 

Nope...and ORC! (Full disclosure, I've been playing a LOT of Shadow of Mordor)



Age: 39

Height: 5'

Weight: 245

Eyes: Green

Hair: Cherry Red


Garalock Firebrand, first of his name, was born to the Great Blacksmith Hirka Hammerfall in the final years of the Warchief Thun. As a child, he played at war with his birth-clan and studied the art of various weapons. The son of a blacksmith--and one of the greatest blacksmiths of the isles--Garalock showed enormous promise as a warrior. 

Until he was ten. Due to an abnormal glandular issue, Garalock stopped growing at 5 feet. Barely taller than dwarves, he was deemed an abomination to the tribe. His family name was stripped away, and he was sent to the Pit for torture and execution. 

In the prison, Garalock's diminutive size proved an invaluable boon. He was able to slip from his manacles and escape, though his finger was sliced off in the ensuing fight. He ran for days without water or food, until he finally collapsed on the banks of the Jadi River. There he was found by Ilian, the Scout Lead of the Kiddai Elves. They branded him, beat him, and planned to kill him when it was found he had no useful information.

But the word of Garalock's arrival spread from the forest kingdom to a nearby town, where a young woman named Elena had taken to resting on her journeys. She was a Reaver, a traveling warrior seeking out the greatest adventures. Young and impetuous, she set out to rescue Garalock that they might bring a real fight to the orcs. 

Freeing the outcast was rather simple, as the Elves had no love for slaughter. They released the orc to Elena's care. 

After nursing him back to health, Elena trained Garalock in the art of warfare. She taught him guerrilla tactics, how to stir trouble rather than simple bashing in heads, and in time they became a legendary fighting force. 

But the drums of war called to Garalock. His father--indeed his whole tribe--had betrayed him. Only the selling of blood would cure his anger.