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Born of a union between the retired orog (gray orc) warrior known as Gore and the human stateswoman Ecilda, Feng was trained to find value in what you have and the ability to defend it. Leaving his mother unfortunately infertile due to a difficult pregnancy and birth—that he narrowly survived, Feng was virtually guaranteed to inherit everything his family had owned, including their farm on the outskirts of a border town known as Greenfall, in the larger kingdom of Helechoria. Life was rather predictable, unchanging for most of it, consisting of intellectual and martial pursuits; mostly spending time alongside the hulking Gore, helping out his father on the farm in the morning while training with him in the afternoon. His father was a quiet man, most of the time, and a charitable one that always espoused the virtues of mercy and communication to avoid unnecessary conflict, but the numerous scars and artifacts he had stored away were clear indicators of a violent past, and one he never shared with his son—unless he felt discipline was an order. However, Feng's status as their heir saw his mother Ecilda become his teacher in academics, considering she managed the vast majority of business while Gore did most of the manual labor. Him and his mother were never the closest for many years, her son being rebellious and confrontational in his youth that often got him into fights with other—often weaker—children, but these weekend studies were one of the few things that they could enjoy together. However, despite it's flaws and it's blemishes, life was often peaceful, with Ecilda and Gore having high hopes for their scion. All this changed when a band of exhausted orc warriors showed up on their family farm; gray and green and brown, dressed in chain or leather armor. Gore and Feng watched them in light of the moon, stealing from their animal pens and coops, from the dark farmhouse porch. Gore claimed to his wife in the window and his son that they were not here to inflict real damage, and were likely to be simply passing through based on their numbers. Ecilda watched from the window, only coming out when Gore declared he would go and speak to them. Ecilda spoke of things Feng had never heard of before, and how these orcs would certainly end him, forcing her husband to take at least a dagger. Despite what Feng believed to be personal better judgment, his father insisted he stay inside while the large and old orc went out to speak with their uninvited guests camping on his land, with these strange cyclops skull and shield symbols marking their armor. Slowly approaching the raiders, ensuring he was seen, the orcs let down their guard for he seemed to be of their kind. The orcs almost seemed merry, raising their arms in greeting and shouting his name. What was exchanged was unknown, though as the tensions in the air began to rise, the other oldest orc, a female of colossal size and head with thinning hair, shouted "Traitor!" And in one savage motion, wrenched Gore from the ground. Feng grabbed a wood axe and charged out to aid his father, his mother crying for him to stop and come back, but it was too late to stop him. Gore pleaded through the embrace for his son to flee. 'You? A family?' The great she-orc laughed, turning him to see as Feng was knocked to the ground by a warrior with an immense bladed gauntlet, cutting clean through his left eye. Gore roared, breaking free of the hold and crashing his small blade, brimming with white magical energy, into the nearest warrior to him while screaming in orcish. The fight was swift, and brutal. The immense female orc plunged a blade straight through Gore's back, with hatred in her eyes, raising like a bloody cloth high above Feng for him to see as the light left his father's eyes. 'Come find us when you're stronger, boy.' She said, carefully setting down the body in an odd display of respect. 'Finish what your father began, perhaps?' She laughed, and so did the other orcs as they walked away, but not before the one with the spiked gauntlet delivered an unarmed punch to his stomach. The last thing Feng remembered of that dark day was reaching for his father's lifeless corpse, looking into empty eyes. He awoke staring at his room ceiling, a bandage covering a throbbing eye, and stumbling out of his room and into the dining room. Ecilda was in a chair at the table, which upon it's wooden top was sprawled the cold corpse of his father. For a moment, Feng believed his mother too was dead, but with sore, rosy eyes she turned to see her son alive, bursting into tears once more as Feng brooded over his father. What made it worse was the gray snowfall outside, and blackened remains of the fields the passing mercenaries left behind. The funeral was small, but intimate, even if Feng spent most of his time sitting on the porch or by the wrapped body, despite Ecilda claiming it was unhealthy to torture himself as such. Questions stewed in his brain: of the warriors and their cyclopean crests, of their merriment towards his father and their ominous summon. He interacted little with the few guests who attended, members of the farmers association Ecilda was a respected executive of, with the younger sons and daughters of these farmers often being bullies or bigots who offered what apologies they could to the dead man's child. Burying him with whatever pets or animals they had previously laid to rest, just as he requested in this ramshackle graveyard, Feng spent weeks rummaging through what his father had left behind. His mother brooded as he did so, but never stopped him. To Feng's horror, he found the same cyclops skull and shield crest on a hidden cloth worn within his father's old armor. And crude, brief memoirs eroded with time that portrayed a hypothesized bloody past, up until his own birth when they ceased. Rising from the table one night, and arguing with his mother, Feng resolved that he would find his father's killers and understand the past his mother would not share. She told Feng then only of his father's doubt, of the remorse, the honor, and of their meeting. Of how their son was born. Feng was unmoved in his pursuit, and knew his mother would not share everything, but he could not abandon his grieving mother or this tarnished legacy. Feng worked diligently, day and night, for years until the farm was back to how it was. Hiring help for his mother, fending off greedy opportunists, and training as hard as he could while absorbing any worthwhile knowledge. He slowly came closer and closer to his goal of departure. Eventually, dawn broke on the day. Meeting him on the porch, his mother pleaded with him not to go, but knew in her heart she couldn't change his mind. The two embraced, for what both believed could be the final time. However, before he left, Ecilda invited him into the house one last time. She took his father's battleaxe, that hung ever forbidden above the hearth, and gave it to him. He left for the open road that morning, in search of his father's killers, needing to repay a debt of an eye and a life. And that is where the story of Feng Balewagon, son of Ecilda Balewagon and Gore, began.

Author here: so this is probably the oldest D&D character I've ever made, and he has gone through two different major overhauls since I made him... probably almost six years ago by now, so if I was gonna start posting OCs, it felt right to start with the first of their number. So yeah! This is the start of me putting my D&D characters and OCs on here. I really hope you enjoy reading about them and piecing together their connected lore, if you're into that sorta thing. (These are also far easier to post weekly! Lol) Have a good day, everyone!

Irish Spartan Studios - YouTube

Description

Born of a union between the retired orog (gray orc) warrior known as Gore and the human stateswoman Ecilda, Feng was trained to find value in what you have and the ability to defend it. Leaving his mother unfortunately infertile due to a difficult pregnancy and birth—that he narrowly survived, Feng was virtually guaranteed to inherit everything his family had owned, including their farm on the outskirts of a border town known as Greenfall, in the larger kingdom of Helechoria. Life was rather predictable, unchanging for most of it, consisting of intellectual and martial pursuits; mostly spending time alongside the hulking Gore, helping out his father on the farm in the morning while training with him in the afternoon. His father was a quiet man, most of the time, and a charitable one that always espoused the virtues of mercy and communication to avoid unnecessary conflict, but the numerous scars and artifacts he had stored away were clear indicators of a violent past, and one he never shared with his son—unless he felt discipline was an order. However, Feng's status as their heir saw his mother Ecilda become his teacher in academics, considering she managed the vast majority of business while Gore did most of the manual labor. Him and his mother were never the closest for many years, her son being rebellious and confrontational in his youth that often got him into fights with other—often weaker—children, but these weekend studies were one of the few things that they could enjoy together. However, despite it's flaws and it's blemishes, life was often peaceful, with Ecilda and Gore having high hopes for their scion. All this changed when a band of exhausted orc warriors showed up on their family farm; gray and green and brown, dressed in chain or leather armor. Gore and Feng watched them in light of the moon, stealing from their animal pens and coops, from the dark farmhouse porch. Gore claimed to his wife in the window and his son that they were not here to inflict real damage, and were likely to be simply passing through based on their numbers. Ecilda watched from the window, only coming out when Gore declared he would go and speak to them. Ecilda spoke of things Feng had never heard of before, and how these orcs would certainly end him, forcing her husband to take at least a dagger. Despite what Feng believed to be personal better judgment, his father insisted he stay inside while the large and old orc went out to speak with their uninvited guests camping on his land, with these strange cyclops skull and shield symbols marking their armor. Slowly approaching the raiders, ensuring he was seen, the orcs let down their guard for he seemed to be of their kind. The orcs almost seemed merry, raising their arms in greeting and shouting his name. What was exchanged was unknown, though as the tensions in the air began to rise, the other oldest orc, a female of colossal size and head with thinning hair, shouted "Traitor!" And in one savage motion, wrenched Gore from the ground. Feng grabbed a wood axe and charged out to aid his father, his mother crying for him to stop and come back, but it was too late to stop him. Gore pleaded through the embrace for his son to flee. 'You? A family?' The great she-orc laughed, turning him to see as Feng was knocked to the ground by a warrior with an immense bladed gauntlet, cutting clean through his left eye. Gore roared, breaking free of the hold and crashing his small blade, brimming with white magical energy, into the nearest warrior to him while screaming in orcish. The fight was swift, and brutal. The immense female orc plunged a blade straight through Gore's back, with hatred in her eyes, raising like a bloody cloth high above Feng for him to see as the light left his father's eyes. 'Come find us when you're stronger, boy.' She said, carefully setting down the body in an odd display of respect. 'Finish what your father began, perhaps?' She laughed, and so did the other orcs as they walked away, but not before the one with the spiked gauntlet delivered an unarmed punch to his stomach. The last thing Feng remembered of that dark day was reaching for his father's lifeless corpse, looking into empty eyes. He awoke staring at his room ceiling, a bandage covering a throbbing eye, and stumbling out of his room and into the dining room. Ecilda was in a chair at the table, which upon it's wooden top was sprawled the cold corpse of his father. For a moment, Feng believed his mother too was dead, but with sore, rosy eyes she turned to see her son alive, bursting into tears once more as Feng brooded over his father. What made it worse was the gray snowfall outside, and blackened remains of the fields the passing mercenaries left behind. The funeral was small, but intimate, even if Feng spent most of his time sitting on the porch or by the wrapped body, despite Ecilda claiming it was unhealthy to torture himself as such. Questions stewed in his brain: of the warriors and their cyclopean crests, of their merriment towards his father and their ominous summon. He interacted little with the few guests who attended, members of the farmers association Ecilda was a respected executive of, with the younger sons and daughters of these farmers often being bullies or bigots who offered what apologies they could to the dead man's child. Burying him with whatever pets or animals they had previously laid to rest, just as he requested in this ramshackle graveyard, Feng spent weeks rummaging through what his father had left behind. His mother brooded as he did so, but never stopped him. To Feng's horror, he found the same cyclops skull and shield crest on a hidden cloth worn within his father's old armor. And crude, brief memoirs eroded with time that portrayed a hypothesized bloody past, up until his own birth when they ceased. Rising from the table one night, and arguing with his mother, Feng resolved that he would find his father's killers and understand the past his mother would not share. She told Feng then only of his father's doubt, of the remorse, the honor, and of their meeting. Of how their son was born. Feng was unmoved in his pursuit, and knew his mother would not share everything, but he could not abandon his grieving mother or this tarnished legacy. Feng worked diligently, day and night, for years until the farm was back to how it was. Hiring help for his mother, fending off greedy opportunists, and training as hard as he could while absorbing any worthwhile knowledge. He slowly came closer and closer to his goal of departure. Eventually, dawn broke on the day. Meeting him on the porch, his mother pleaded with him not to go, but knew in her heart she couldn't change his mind. The two embraced, for what both believed could be the final time. However, before he left, Ecilda invited him into the house one last time. She took his father's battleaxe, that hung ever forbidden above the hearth, and gave it to him. He left for the open road that morning, in search of his father's killers, needing to repay a debt of an eye and a life. And that is where the story of Feng Balewagon, son of Ecilda Balewagon and Gore, began.

Author here: so this is probably the oldest D&D character I've ever made, and he has gone through two different major overhauls since I made him... probably almost six years ago by now, so if I was gonna start posting OCs, it felt right to start with the first of their number. So yeah! This is the start of me putting my D&D characters and OCs on here. I really hope you enjoy reading about them and piecing together their connected lore, if you're into that sorta thing. (These are also far easier to post weekly! Lol) Have a good day, everyone!

Irish Spartan Studios - YouTube