Chunch

Exiled Marauder (lvl 4)

Description:

Half-Orc Barbarian
Alignment Chaotic Good
Background Outlander
Current Experience 4280


Armor Class 20 (Bracers of Defense, Shield and Ring of Protection)
Hit Points 53
Speed 30 ft.


STR 18 (4) DEX 12 (1) CON 16 (3)
INT 8 (-1) WIS 13 (
1) CHA 8 (-1)


Saving Throws Str +7, Dex +2, Con +6, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
Skills Animal Handling +3, Athletics +6, Intimidation +1, Perception +3, Survival +3
Senses Darkvision 60ft. Passive Perception 13
Languages Common; Orc; Draconic
Proficiencies Flute, Light and Medium Armor, Martial Weapons, Shields, Simple Weapons
Features Danger Sense, Frenzy, Outlander Origin – Tribal Marauder, Primal Path – Berserker; Rage – 3 times with +2 damage; Reckless Attack, Relentless Endurance, Savage Attacks, Wanderer


Equipment Warhammer, Two handaxes, four javelins, shield, A staff, A trophy from an animal I killed, A set of traveler’s clothes, Belt pouch, backpack, a bedroll, a mess kit, a tinderbox, 10 torches, 10 days of rations, waterskin, 50 feet of hempen rope, An invitation to a party where a murder occurred, Ring of Protection, Silver Dagger, Bracers of Defense
Money Pouch 20gp
Treasure


Bio:

Characteristics

Personality Traits I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups. I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folks, Money and manners won’t save you from a hungry owlbear.
Ideals Might. The strongest are meant to rule. Instinct to protect those in need.
Bonds My friends safety is my responsibility.
Flaws I only grunt to communicate.

Appearance Tall, Bulging muscles, Dark olive pukey green skin, Shoulder length fiery red hair, 1 inch scar on throat from tongue being cut out, Stands with confidence, Vein like scars on arms are from previous battles

History

I was born to an Orc mother and a human father whom I’ve never met. My mother was a chieftains wife, she begged the chieftain to accept me into the tribe. With much unwillingness he accepts.
At age 10, I had gone through intense orcish upbringing forcing me to become a tribal marauder, something only reserved for males, as a punishment to my mother.
At age 14, after many years of abuse by the men in my tribe, i started to rebel.
At age 16, our tribe was brutally attacked resulting in my mother’s death and the Orc Chieftains hate unleashed upon me.
At age 17, after many battles my strength had become more than equal to a full Orc male. The Chieftain realized he can no longer control me. As humiliation he cut my tongue out in front of the whole tribe to prove that he was still stronger than me.
After a few days of being forced to continue training and no treatment, I’d had enough. So, I sneaked into his tent one night while he was sleeping and with my dagger I reached in, pulled out his tongue. With one quick swipe I cut it off.
As his screams awoke the camp, I grabbed his warhammer and fought my way out.
Once I battled my tribesman for my freedom and had made a few days distance. I had become to realize the severity of my wounds. Gathering upon the little survival knowledge, I was able to fend off infection. I felt I was finally free.
A few weeks of living alone fending for myself, I heard what sounded like a battle to the death. I sneaked my way through tough brush to see what the commotion was. It was then that I saw from a distance what looked like a dragonborn, fighting a large search party from my tribe. Upon instinct to protect those in need, I felt it as a priority, also my fault to help this innocent.
As I rushed in a rage on the first Orc I came upon, he lost his head in one swift strike. Another Orc charged at me, so I slit his throat. Picking up one of his javelins, I proceeded to throw it at the Orc battling the dragonborn and stuck him in the heart. During the throw another Orc swung a warhammer into my chest, crushing my sternum and knocking me down. On the verge of blacking out, all I can see is an axe fly through the air into the Orc’s head. The final Orc rushed the dragonborn in a rage and stabbed a spear through his leg, howling the dragonborn thrust his sword through the Orc’s chest falling on top of him.
I woke up in a hut, nearly healed and I saw the dragonborn next to my cot bleeding and unconscious. I knew I had enough knowledge to potentially save him I felt compelled to do so.
Once the dragonborn awoke, he told me he was unable to fully restore my tongue and that I would never be able to talk again. I learned that his name was “Samirus” but he allowed me to call him Sam. With my tongue being irreparable, I couldn’t tell him my name so he offered to give me a new one. With me yearning to forget my past I gladly accepted. After several moments, he looked at me seriously and said “Your name is Chunch”. I proceeded to look at him quizzically as he defined it as “One of power and intensity”.
Over several months Sam taught me how to read and write Common, he also learned what he calls “The Chunch Grunt”. With his teachings it made me realized I could have a friend. Not only a friend but a friend I can trust.
Since my 18th birthday a month ago and seeing increased activity from my old tribe, Sam woke me in the middle of the night and said "Chunch it is time for you to leave, but it is also time for me to leave with you. i smiled and nodded.

Chunch

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