Orrak Lan
A mother, armed with spear, bow, and blood. Earning coin so that her son may lead a better life, far from the violence that is her trade.
Appearance
Of good stature and strong shoulders. She stalks with a predatory grace. Moving like water through the lands, flowing with ease, until she builds up to crash.
Bright red tattoos adorn her skin, inked with a ritualistic compound. Oft, they pulse with a subdued power, and have been known to glow when she wields her magics.
Her attire is simple, functional, often travel worn and customized to help with hunt and job. Lightly armored, she prefers ambush tactics and skirmishing with her prey, tiring them out before she strikes the killing blow.
Bright red tattoos adorn her skin, inked with a ritualistic compound. Oft, they pulse with a subdued power, and have been known to glow when she wields her magics.
Her attire is simple, functional, often travel worn and customized to help with hunt and job. Lightly armored, she prefers ambush tactics and skirmishing with her prey, tiring them out before she strikes the killing blow.
Skills and Abilities
Archer
Spear Fighter
Blade Dancer
Blood Mage - Trained in her people's ancestral arts, Orrak is a dangerous blood mage, so potent she once served a vizier. But that was a past life.
Spear Fighter
Blade Dancer
Blood Mage - Trained in her people's ancestral arts, Orrak is a dangerous blood mage, so potent she once served a vizier. But that was a past life.
Personality
Quiet
Serious
To the point
Measuring
Prickly
Biography & Lore
Once trusted as a magi of the courts. Failure and treachery saw her flee her home with not but swaddled babe held tight in her arms.
Disgraced as she was, her connections were few and far. Still, a friend saw her son, Unok, cared for and schooled, raised far away from the stain of her malady, and the foulness with which she earned coin. For kindness rarely came cheap.
That was near a decade past. Her son now ten, their relationship strained. She still wanders the desert, working, and visiting when she can. But Unok's questions come harder each time.
Why can't he come with? Why must she go again?
And in truth, she cannot say more than. "Because I must, my son,"
Disgraced as she was, her connections were few and far. Still, a friend saw her son, Unok, cared for and schooled, raised far away from the stain of her malady, and the foulness with which she earned coin. For kindness rarely came cheap.
That was near a decade past. Her son now ten, their relationship strained. She still wanders the desert, working, and visiting when she can. But Unok's questions come harder each time.
Why can't he come with? Why must she go again?
And in truth, she cannot say more than. "Because I must, my son,"