Drayga

"An orc who defends the weak… disgusting. Her time will come." -Berserker In a land as untamed as Tya, seeking mercy is akin to pursuing fairness in a den of cutthroats, cheats, and thieves. Compassion is seldom rewarded, especially among orcish clans where kindness is viewed as a fatal flaw. When a berserker known as Drayga first encountered a gargantuan ogre, he seemed nothing more than a prestigious mark that could elevate her status among the clans. Eventually, this gentle beast would forever transform her life and perspective. With rippling muscles and a wild mane of unkempt, crimson hair, Drayga was the epitome of brutality on the battlefield. Her methods of ending life were so savage, even her clansmen avoided her for fear of provoking her wrath. Discontent with her countless victories, Drayga set off to find an opponent to match her prowess and end her complacency. Into the northern hinterlands she stalked, a storm of rage incarnate, until finally she discovered something of note: an ogre's tracks. After tracking the great beast to its lair, she leapt from a ledge, intent on lopping off its head with one stroke of her mighty axe. But the ogre sidestepped Drayga and she crashed into a wall. Instead of attacking, however, he appeared to look through her with eyes of sorrow before lumbering away. The retreat infuriated the berserker, and a game of cat and mouse commenced. Drayga would track the ogre and attempt to strike. Yet again and again, he would peacefully thwart her efforts. Upon entering an icy glade, shock overtook Drayga as she witnessed the ogre attempting to lift a fallen tree from a trapped woodsman. Confusion overtook the orc, followed by a feeling she could not articulate. She watched him struggle with the great log before finally lending a hand to save the man. Afterward, Drayga learned the ogre's name: Krodor, the Glacial Guardian. She wondered why such a powerful creature would show mercy to a man who would have no doubt labeled him a monster. Building a fire, Krodor explained his beliefs in the preservation of life. Slowly, she drank in his words like much-needed water before looking down at hands long stained with blood. In the quiet dusk, Krodor placed a great hand upon her shoulder and spoke gently. "We are what we grow into. Not what we were."