Mardok had arrive in Syrindale the previous night, he had ventured far from his clan remote home in the east. Mardok was an outcast among his people, more often than not his existence was tolerated but ignored. Of the simple-minded people making up half his genetic tree their intelligence paled in comparison to his own. Intelligence however was not a respectable trait for any Orc. The ‘Blackrot’ clan territory encompassed the majority of the ‘Ponset Wetland’ the clan numbered nearly a thousand strong. The great clan had slowly but surely conquered the nearby clans. Being part of the original Blackrot family was a great honor for any Orc. Mardok wasn’t just any Orc though, unfortunately. As one of the less attractive 16 wives won by chief Yatur upon the defeat of chief Urul Mardok’ s mother received little to none of the affection of her newly appointed husband. In orc culture the more wives one could provide for the higher their status in the clan. Being the chief of an orc clan meant having to provide for many, many wives.

Mardok was the unfortunate by product of his mother tickling her fancy with the occasional Elysian slave. The Elysian’s had long since been traded from clan to clan as a work force and entertainment interest. Never before though had an Orc and an Elysian produced a child. In that regard Mardok had been somewhat of a wonder. His features resembling both and neither. Unlike his orc brethren he was much smaller, he stood at only 6 foot tall. Weighing only a paltry 200lbs he lacked the necessary size to contend with any adult Orc, even the females. His interest wasn’t set on physical might and swinging around large clubs though, for as long as he could remember Mardok loved creating useful items. Items that of course had served no purpose to his clan. He remembered vividly the first time he had spent weeks working on a multi-shot crossbow only to be made a laughing stock. For days his brothers in arms would point at laugh at him bellowing in their deep scratchy voices “Look it Mardok, he must be elf brain play with toy all day!”

Mardok’ s many inventions had largely just been brought him criticism from his clan members. After suffering through years of daily ridicule and the occasional whop to the head for “playing with toys” he had long since set his sights on leaving his home. With hopes on the horizon he set out to the human cities hoping to pursue his craft. As the swamp provided little in the way of crafting components, he would never be able to bring his passion into fruition in the down trodden bogs of the wetlands. His foray into the human territories had proven to be useful, having spent months bouncing from city to city paying for travel with the trader’s caravans. Mardok had advanced his crafting prowess to new heights. It was to his great dismay that he had hit a road block.

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To reach rank 5 as an artificer he would need to lay hands on some particularly rare components. Mardok had spent so much of his time, effort, and small supply of money into the skill he had not taken the time to advance his combat capabilities leaving him unable to harvest ingredients by himself. As rumor had it rank 5 came with the impressive perk of 25% increase in effect to all his creations regardless of what low quality components, they were derived from Mardok was filled with sorrow that he didn’t see any way possible to reach his goal. Due to his unique crafting skills his personal arsenal was quite different from any Orc you would meet. He carried a simple iron staff for deflecting close range attacks, a repeating crossbow slung into a finely crafted shoulder holster. The worn leather cloak he wore also served to conceal several vials of acid concussions he had yet to find any way to weaponize aside from lobbing them like a rock at his enemies.

Mardok’ s luck and good fortune having seem to ran out he drowned his sorrow in cheap ale from a local inn. He had pleaded with a few local head hunters in accepting his crafting services in exchange for a bit of power leveling but was rejected by nearly everyone he encountered as they were naturally distrusting of orcs. Even as he attempted explaining that he was only half- orc it hadn’t seem to matter to them. So, as he stumbled out into the city with his racial inheritance ‘Dark Vision’ active he aimlessly roamed in a drunken stupor mulling over his thoughts. He stumbled over something in the alley landing flat faced onto the rough graveled ground. The smell of blood filling his nostrils helped to rouse him from his drunken stupor. With his vision finally coming into focus he made out the shape of a couple of mutilated bodies sprayed a crossed the alley. Clumsily regaining his feet Mardok heard the faint sound of screams and explosions nearby, curiosity getting the better of him he headed toward the commotion.