Mirohan Snowfang

[Mirohan]

Name: Miro'han Snowfang

Alias: Snowfang

Rank: Oathbound - Path of Wisdom

Age: late 20s

Gender: Male

Race: Orc.

Clan: Frostwolf

Class: Hunter - Trainee Shaman

Alignment: Lawful good

Family: Deceased


Known Enemies: Every, single, ogre!


History:

"Get up pup, get up and fight!" these words echo around the fire, a young orc to his even younger brother, his hands holding on the the ice cold ground as he wipes away blood from his mouth.
"Get up I said! What kind of wolf spends its time on the floor!" Gritting his teeth he stands up as tall as any youngster could his face torn from the beating. Though relentless it was good for the Orc learning to know the pain he would know doubt eventually face at a young age would be good for him. His mother would sit close by the fire watching her son take a beating, his father standing next to her his arms folded as he watches them both with a screwed up face. As he falls to his feet once more his brother stands above him, looking down on the young orc, "Alot still to learn little brother." he would begin to laugh as he helped him to his feet. Walking back over to his mother embracing her gently as she soothes him as any mother would, the young runt still barely out the womb at five cycles would still seek comfort in his mothers arms.
As the winds picked up the fire dimmed many or the Clan would be asleep a few on watch surrounding the camp. Unknown to those close to the inside they were being stuck off. One by one the watches would fall into a pool of there own blood. The ears of the many Frostwolves would start to perk as they try to listen to the sound of steal upon flesh. The wind would pick up and youngster would be in his own hut ready for bed, his mother seeing to his safety.
He would look up at her sadness in his eyes. "I won't ever be as strong as brother."  he says with discontent, his mother brushes her hand over his brow, "You are still young child, give it time and you will match your brother in strength."  she said calmly to him. "I will be the strongest in the clan!"  He would say with raised arms. His mother chuckles kissing him on the forehead before turning her head towards the entrance.
"KILL DEM, KILL DEM ALL!" the thunderous roar would echo around the camp, the orcs made unaware of the coming battle staggered to try get out of their huts. His mother would turn her head and look at her child, "Stay here!" as she rushes towards the huts closed curtain. She peers through carefully, as an Orc falls before the tent his dead eyes staring at the female. As she begins to panic she would see her husband with his axe and shield in hands slaying his foes infront of him. The Ogres had descended upon them unexpectedly and were slaughtering the clan leaving no prisoners. She would cast a glance over to her tent to see her own wolf struck down its blood oozing onto the floor, then notices her other child, beckoning him into the tent. They fall back inside, the battle still raging outside. "I want you to take your brother and get out of here right now, you must flee to the hills it is the only way to be safe.". His brother was an arrogant Orc much like them all, "I want to stay and fight for blood and honour". He was barely three cycles older than his brother but showed the furiosity of a true warrior. No, you will leave and take your brother with you!, grasping his arm as she stares him in the eye. He would retract his arm away from her, looking at his brother then back to his mother before running back out the door he came from.
She turns to look at her scared child, grabbing his arm she pulls him over the rear of the tent unsheathing her dagger and slicing a hole in the cloth to allow an escape, "Take this and head for the hills, there is a cave not to far from here you will be safe in! Go Hurry!", she would hand over the dagger, him reluctant to take it from her. "MAKE SURE YOU KEEP DA WOMEN ALIVE FOR DA BOSS MAN." the voice bellows once more, as she turns her head towards the entrance then back to her pup, "Go quickly!" as she pushes him out the make shift exit, taking one last look before she picks up her mace and runs out of the entrance, roaring a thunderous warcry.
The tundra was cold his body stiff as he reaches the cave a few hours later, nothing to be heard except the howling of wind in the air as the snow fell.
Cold and alone he sat in the cave awaiting someone, anyone to arrive from his village, he began to lose hope. Then like the quietest mice, a noise would be heard from outside. Cautiously he grasps his dagger and heads for the entrance to the cave to take a look, when to his own supprise a small Frostwolf stood whimpering in the darkness.
He leaves the cave to get the Frostwolf, pulling it in close to his body to warm each other as he wraps himself around the blanket he had on him.
Bother cold, both scared, not much sleep was had this night.

The morning air was bitter, the smell of blood thick. The wind had calmed but not a sound was heard over the tundra. the young orc whilst grasping the pup ventures forth from the cave headed towards his home.
As he approached the location smoke poured into the sky from his villages location, the last few hundred feet took a lifetime as he ran towards the village. He arrived to set his eyes upon ruin, with dead scattered around and a few ogre corpse to join them he started to weep, searching everywhere for his mother.
The snow would begin to pick up as he wanders towards his hut where he spots his mother dead outside the entrance, his father next to her. He rushes towards them shaking them vigorously in an attempt to wake them with no avail. He would sit clutching their hands weeping.
Behind him forming in the snow a silhouette would wander its way towards him. The small pup would start growling alerting his new companion as he drops their hands and grasps his dagger looking at the silhouette. A tall elderly Orc would stand by, eyeing the the small Orc up and down before looking around at the littered corpses.
"Death comes to us all, they are with our ancestors now.". The small Orc wipes his tears but continues to weep quietly, "But do not fret youngling, vengance will come in time, as do all things.". The pup would look at the elder his tears stopping.
The snow would start to get thicker and it starts forming a sheet over the corpses. The old man would look around at the coming storm, "What is your name?" he asked before walking over to his dead fathers wolf and lifting it over his shoulder. The young orc would stand over the corpses of his parents, his saddened face turned to rage, "Miro'han" he mutters, turning his head to the elder, the snow covering his brow his face full of anger, his teeth pointing skywards.
The old man squints at Miro'han, inclining his head as he inspecs the Orcs face. "Come, it is not safe here anymore you will come with me into the hills. But now we shall call you by something different something more suiting." He would notice the snow and teeth baring menacingly..


"Snowfang."