Half-Orc Nationalist

Quick backstory thing for Rokag, who I plan on playing as in an upcoming Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Boy howdy does a lot of this seem weird and outta nowhere if you've got no idea what happened to these characters in our sessions. Anyway, the first part mostly delves into how Rokag's family lives and has changed through the years, and the second is all revelations and flashbacks, as well as (most importantly, for the purposes of roleplaying) character motivation. 

Word Count: ~5700 (out of ~10,200 total) (I suppose by "quick" I mean that this felt like it was really fast to write.)
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Read part 1 first here.

It took a few hours, but Rokag eventually calmed down and went to work at her daily duties. Finn and Agrat also went to their own chores, and the three mostly stayed apart from each other until that evening. When she returned home for the night, Agrat and Finn were already sitting in the living room, next to each other on the couch. She sat across from them in a chair.

            “So?” she said. Agrat scratched his head and Finn opened his palms.

            “So y’ know—”

            “Things haven’t—”

            They glanced at each other and Agrat motioned for Finn to continue.

            “Things haven’t always been easy for us,” he said. “I’m guessing you already know that we’ve done our fair share of wandering.”

            “Right,” Rokag said. “Of course you did, since you traveled all th’ way here.”

            “And it goes without saying that things get dangerous when you don’t really have a permanent home,” Finn said. “You know we moved here for a better life, since that wasn’t possible in Ettinsmoor. We didn’t get to actually settle down and stop for some time, and during that time we had some… difficult encounters.” She leaned sideways in the chair and rested her cheek against her knuckles.

( ''Well, just how difficult?'' she said... )

 This was literally just plucked from a much, much longer narrative that I'm currently working on. For context, Agrat has just come out to his mother, Grasha, as transgender. He wasn't sure if she'd take his feelings seriously, so he's feeling pretty ashamed and upset in the very beginning. The two of them were exiled from their original orc tribe, the Blackskulls, since Agrat is half-human and they carry some pretty nasty beliefs about racial purity. 

Word Count: ~1600
Rating: G
Warnings: None

            “Come,” Grasha said, and opened her arms. Agrat stared at her a moment, then crawled up to her. She hugged him tightly. “I should have seen this long ago. You are my son, Re—no, you need a different name. Do you have one in mind?” He widened his eyes.

            Just like that? So easily?

            His mind spun a bit before he thought back to his dreams and fantasies. He’d tried on a few different names and none really fit him perfectly, but one cropped up a little more frequently.

            “Helmun,” he said. Grasha stared at him and rolled her eyes.

            “That’s a human name,” she said. “You’re more orc than human, kaluk.” Agrat set his jaw forward.

            “I’m half, though,” he said.

            “You’ll figure it out someday. And either way, orc names are better,” she said and grinned.

( Then you tell me some good names, Agrat said... )

 

 Man, like none of this reasonably makes sense if you don't know what's going on in my D&D sessions, but I wanted to write it anyway as a sorta character-building thing. We had a pretty intense session involving a goblin tribe, and it just so happened that right in the midst of it, a blessed ring Agrat wears broke, and he thought his husband died. So, here's Agrat trying to get his cranky and energy-filled orcish daughter to sleep, years after that happened. 

Word count: ~4200
Rating: G
Warnings: Some vague descriptions of gore.

Agrat carried Rokag with her flopped over his broad shoulder, her skinny legs dangling over his chest and her arms stretched out down his back. He kept one arm wrapped over her back, and the other around her knees.

            “Alright, kiddo,” he said as they made their way upstairs together. “Time fer you t’ get some sleep.” Rokag groaned and thumped his back with her little fists.

            “I’m not tired!” she said and writhed in an attempt to escape. Agrat chuckled and patted her. He creaked open the door to her room. Rokag’s had the smallest room in the house, but only hers had three windows. One was wider than the others, and set in the corner wall above a built-in bench that doubled as storage for her toys. However, she left most of them scattered on the floor. Her favorite was a soft boar Finn and Agrat made for her—he carved its facial features and its paws from wood, and Finn sewed its body, limbs, and head together. They stuffed it with wool. It had a few “scars” of its own from years of dragging it around, and she loved to compare it to both of them. Now that she was a little older, she mostly kept it in her room, but still treasured it dearly.

            “What, y’ think you can trick yer old pops?” he said. “I saw you yawnin’ down there through yer nose. Come on—into bed with you.” He bent and laid her down, and Rokag crossed her arms while he tugged the blanket up to tuck her in.

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