User:EpicNamePwns/Vilbur
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This article is a Player character biography page The contents herein are entirely player made and in no way represent official Lotro history or occurrences which are accurate for all worlds. The characters and events listed are of an independent nature and applied for roleplaying, fictional, speculative, or opinions from a limited playerbase only. |
| Vilbur | |
|---|---|
| World: | Brandywine |
| Vocation: | Fresh Meat |
| Class: | Reaver |
| Race: | Orc |
| Region: | |
| Age: | 20 |
| Height: | Average |
| Sex: | Male |
| Skin: | Clammy |
| Hair: | Stringy |
| Eye: | Distant |
Description
Physical Description:
Personality Description:
Bio
Scrawled in unsteady hand, in the common script of men, on a moldering scrap of parchment carried in Vilbur's pocket:
Once upon a time, an orc-dam whelped an unusually homely orc-bairn. His sire, upon seeing his son the first time, advised her to dash the puny infant's brains on the nearest rock and toss his corpse on a warg-midden or into the lair of a certain weaver he particularly disliked. His mother was one of the more pragmatic concubines of her harem, so she instead named him after the stringy man (named Wilbur) they once stewed during a moon-gone feast and placed her ugly child among the others in the brood-pit. (It is to be noted that orc-doxies are never taught their letters, so her notion of spelling was vague at best.) She reasoned that if supplies ran short, his flesh would keep two or three of the strongest brutelings from starvation. She also hedged her bet by slapping him soundly every morning just as all diligent orc-dams do, in case he might amount to some trouble in spite of his inadequate build and ugly countenance. She did not regret her choice because the larger orc-bairns made him a favorite victim of their games. The thrashings, pinchings, and his perpetual selection as "stump" for the popular sport of "who can smash the biggest rock on a stump" stimulated his growth. After a few seasons, he was just as large as any of his brood-mates, and the stones had helped to break up the grotesque symmetry of his features. The Boss-matron observed him to display some unusual behaviors, such as hording a captured cat to himself spending hours trying different yankings and twistings on it's tail rather than eating it properly, but thought the matter too trivial to distract her from her hair-yanking beat. No one realized young Vilbur was exploring the range of sounds he could get from it. Another misunderstood habit Vilbur had were his attempts to rap out a rhythm on the tortoises brought in for the brutelings to test their teeth on. He never got far, because the orc-dams were prone to forget why they had the tortoises and soon settled their wagers on who was best at cracking the shells with only her bare knuckles. Soon the time came to send the brood off to the training barns, where the young grunts were kept far to busy for Vilbur to further pursue his musical endeavors. Even when he and the other survivors were sent to the mines for the mandatory term of seventeen years internship carting rubble 20 hours daily, he still cherished in his viscera the desire to make music. Now he has been sent to the battle-lines, and he's looking for a suitable instrument to play and deeds to compose lines on.
Friends and Enemies
Friends:
- N/A
Enemies:
- N/A
Gossip
"Where would a reaver get such a document?"