My story is a short and fairly uninteresting one. My own mother was a human farmer, who was ravaged by Orcs during a raid, and I was born of that union.
I was discarded by my family at a young age - they couldn't bear looking at me any longer. I was initially bitter and ashamed, and spent my time wandering the lands. I eventually learned more of both my orcish and human heritages and how they are two sides to the same coin, both born by our Mother Nature with their own roles to play. I found a measure of peace and regained a sense of self worth.
In my middle years I returned to the farm life, settled down and married a simple accepting man. As the Fates would have it, I soon fell victim to Orcs as my own mother did. Mortimer was born of the union.
I was determined to treat him right - to not drive him away like my own mother did to me - and I loved him as a mother should.
He was a bright and happy child, seemingly immune to the fearful remarks and mistrustful glances of our fellow villagers. At first I thought he just had a perpetually cheerful demeanour, but I eventually learned the sad truth. He just simply lacked the ability to empathise with others, to know what other people are feeling and thinking through common emotional ground. He was morally blind, an emotional cripple, a boy with too much Orcish blood.
And so I did the only thing I thought I could. I bound him with rules. I taught him how he should act, how to form relationships, how to function in a society filled with civilised people. Most of all, I taught him to value Law. I thought that if I could keep him within the bounds of mans laws he could escape his Orcish heritage and live the sort of long and happy life I thought my son should have.
Eventually, Mortimer came of age. There was nothing else I could give him or do for him. He needed to break away from me, go out into the world and make a man of himself - to use the tools I gave him to stay safe and to keep people safe from him. So I waited for the right opportunity, faked my death and tearfully fled.
May the Gods judge Mortimer kindly. He's a good boy.
