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- Last Activity:
- Apr 22, 2012 at 7:30 PM
- Mar 11, 2012
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- Bounty collector
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Battle-Jaded Orc, Male, from Orsinium
- Gorzash was last seen:
- Apr 22, 2012
- Bounty collector
Name: Gorzash gro-Karthul
Occupation: Bounty collector
He is quite introverted, like many of his kind. He makes a noticeable effort to keep his distance from the jangle of conversation, speaking only when he feels it impertinent. He does not try to reach out to and make new acquaintances, and he cares little of the welfare of others. Gorz is an idealist who seeks an external life that is parallel with his values. His intuition is blatant and strong, and his decisions are set in stone. He grows fierily stubborn when faced with a dispute, seldom listening, let alone conceiving, the viewpoints or ideas of others. Team effort is quite a foreign concept to him. His bullheadedness is often times his greatest downfall, getting him into sticky situations, whether it be in the heat of battle or in the marketplace.
He is heavily built and husky, even for an Orc, at 6'11". His face is wrinkle-creased and riddled with scars. He has one gloomy, yellow eye; his left one was slashed out during a fateful bandit raid. Owing to the mutilating injury, he has a deep scar trailing from his brow, down to the top of his cheekbone. A black, untrimmed goatee half-covers his chipped right fang, and a ragged mane of black hair is pulled into a pony tail atop his head. Around towns, he usually prefers to dress simply, drawing as little attention as possible, wearing a belted tunic and fur-lined boots. In battle, he gears up in a full set of Orcish Armor which he has kept and used for decades.
Ever since stumbling upon the Daedric artifact Volendrung, Gorz has wielded it as his first and only weapon choice. It suits him perfectly: it is massive, intimidating, and unstoppable once set into motion. Gorzash wields it so fluently that it may seem that Volendrung is not a mere weapon in his hands but a lethal extension to his arms. He supplements the hammer by dressing for battle in tough, heavy Orcish Armor. His fighting style consists of purely melee combat, unrelentingly swinging with Volendrung. This leaves him extremely vulnerable to swifter fighting styles, such as the ones commonly seen used by rogues. His lack of strategizing skills often leaves him at a mental disadvantage to his adversaries; he is easily outwitted.
Quirks and Such
His father and brother called him "Gorz" for short, and many people who are relatively closely affiliated with him will call him this, as well.
Because of his undying hatred toward criminals and bandits, he will attempt to kill any outlaw known to him on sight, under any conditions. Many thieves who prowl the more remote roads in Skyrim have met their demise at the hand of Gorz.
Back in Orsinium, he nearly drowned in a river at the age of five. He has been deathly afraid of water ever since; he will never attempt to cross a river, lake, or sea by swimming.
He is born into a family of city Orcs. Early in his childhood years, he, his two sisters, his brother, and his father leave Orsinium due to the escalating religious conflicts within the city. His family is fairly zealous about their religious beliefs; however, Gorz silently refutes the idea of a Daedric Prince of the cursed being his god-king.
Thirteen years after he is born, his family sets out for the province of Skyrim, specifically to make a living by joining the Imperial Legion. As they are packing their belongings, his father asks him to take his ring and to throw it in the sack along with the other scarce, few pieces of jewelry that they owned. Gorz couldn't help but gaze into the mesmerizing emerald in the ring's center. Noticing his liking for the masterfully crafted band, Karthul suggests that his son keep it, as a reminder of his father.
They left that night, traveling down the long and harsh road that leads from the Wrothgorian Mountains into the land of Skyrim. When they have nearly reached their destination of Solitude, a fearsome band of marauders ambushes them and overtakes their caravan. In the adrenaline and confusion, Gorz bolts from the caravan, heading south down the mountainside, through the forests, for more than a mile into the wilderness. To this day, he still hasn't discovered what had become of the rest of his family, but he presumes that he will never see them again. He is lost, and alone. Days go by, and no one has found him. This was when he put the skills his father had shown him to good use. He hunts and cooks his own food, making a slow but steady progression through the forests, toward where he believes the great city to be.
For three months, he wanders the thick foliage and snow that enshrouds much of the wilds surrounding Solitude. He finally approaches the great castle, and almost immediately he begins his to satiate ravenous appetite for vengeance: not a hundred meters from where he stands - southwest of Katla's Farm - a very familiar bandit pushing a wheelbarrow does business with a slightly built man in a shadowy cloak. Blinded by his own extreme indignation, he charges the outlaw, bearing a lethally sharp Orcish Greatsword - the only valuable that he was able to salvage from the bandit's raid - accompanied by an earthy, bloodcurdling battle-cry. Before the marauder can draw his sword, the young Orc's blade has forced its way through flesh, muscle, and bone. Clutching the fatal entry point of the blade, the deathly marauder silently lifts his gaze to meet the Orc's. For no more than a second, the two seem to understand each other, living the other's life, feeling each other's heartbeats. This moment passes like a starchy blotch in time, as all feelings of the paranormal enigma that is life - feelings of regret, nostalgia, blitheness, and despair - course with frightening detail through the minds of the Orc and the bandit. This moment passes, and a lifeless arrangement of carbon lay half-slumped over Gorz's sword. The cloaked man bolts, apparently intelligent enough to realize the berserk rage boiling in the creature before him.
After running from the scene and returning in a few hours, Gorzash precociously approaches the outlaw's wheelbarrow. Bitter tears flood over his eyelids and down his dirtied cheeks as he rummages through the belongings of his family. After deciding what to keep - the emerald-studded ring and a full suit of Orcish Armor, both belonging to his father, all the septims he can find, a portrait of his brother, Wralbuhk, and as much food as he could eat in the next few days - he passes through the massive gates of Solitude. He sells any excess valuables that might earn him some decent coin, and heads to the local inn for the night.
He awakes the next morning in the clutches of two Solitude Guards, as they half-haul, half-drag him into the Blue Palace. Gorz panics for fear that his murderous acts have been discovered, and they have. Only, he receives no premature demise at the hands of a headsman as consequence; he is showered in praise from Elisif the Fair, the High Queen of Skyrim herself, for his "acts of bravery and valor." Awestricken, Gorzash keeps silent until the High Queen reads the three thousand septim bounty on the bandit whom he had slain.
Thus begins a life of avenging his family, for honor and revenge...
Thirty years later, a bulky, battle-scarred Orc stalks through the recently re-inhabited ruins of an ancient Dwemer structure. He is dressed in a battered, beaten-up set of Orcish Armor, and a three-foot-long jagged greatsword rests naturally in his grip. He notices the flickering of a fire in the chamber ahead of him. Without thinking anything through thoroughly, he rushes in. The two-member group of bandits whose bounty Gorz has been hunting for weeks to claim, is startled by the large third figure who has interrupted their work. The first meets a swift death as he miscalculates the length of the Orc's blade; is descends upon his shoulder, and soon enough, the life has spilled from his body. The second outlaw skillfully swipes at Gorzash with his axe, finding a weak spot in his armor; the blade cuts deeply. He bellows agonizingly as he staggers; his foe takes the opportunity to strike once more. Blade meets armor this time, and Gorz's greatsword carves two deep gashes across the enemy's chest.
Gorzash takes a moment to regain his strength and rest his mind from the trauma of another fight - a feeling he should be well accustomed to by now, but for some unworldly reason, the baffling concoction of emotions enters his mind once again, as it had the first time he reaped a man of his life.
Rising to his feet, he pans the room and - how had he not taken notice of it before, even in the heat of battle? Lying upon a table with finely tuned instruments of analysis surrounding it, a fine-looking warhammer beckons for Gorzash to hold it. It appears heavier, denser than an average hammer, with a spiny yet sturdy, rectangular head. Most intriguingly, however, is the esoteric pulsation of a red "eye" in the center of the head. At the sight of such mystifying technology, Gorz knows that this must be a Dwemer artifact. Cautiously, he lifts the timeworn weapon from its spot. It hums deeply as he grasps it, sending a strangely invigorating vibration resonating throughout his body.
"Volendrung..." he murmurs, though he is startled to hear himself utter the name...