Temugen scans the table before him. All is ready! The herbs have been gathered and crushed or diced when appropriate. The meat, tenderized slowly and steadily by his own hands. The blade of his knife gleams, sharp as a vorpal weapon. Goat’s milk? Check. Red wine? Check. The vegetables are slightly over ripe but they will do. His armor and weapons lie in a pile in the corner of the kitchen. With a sigh and a smile he starts to hum an old tune he learned from his mother. Finally, it is time to make the perfect meal. This is what he was born to do!
This party needs a cook I assume?
“Brother Ioann always ate like a bird, picking at my delicious repasts like he was some sort of cursed rabbit. Gods love the man, always reading books and conversing to himself or whatever otherworldly patron that cursed him. He could never focus long enough to realize the quality of the food in front of him!
My name is Th’mugen.
Temugen pronounced Temm’U’Jinn (removed the ‘)
From the lands of Chessenta.
Born half-orc with orc mother. Mom protected him since they lived in orc village. He was relentlessly abused and teased as a child since he was half breed and smaller than orcs. She was reviled for mating with a human (the story of that is still a mystery to Th’m) but she felt some small amount of attachment to him. Eventually he was orphaned off to a half orc community when it became too dangerous, he was 6 at the time. There he was also not accepted since his mother was an orc and usually it is the other way around. He was also kind of short for H-O. He stands around 5’10” and weighs about 190. He is more lean and wiry although his appearance belies his great strength. Many others have unfortunately experienced this when push came to shove.
A natural fighter (had to learn from an early age), he didn’t enjoy it and avoided fights and confrontation. Still tho he has the H-O brooding temper and rage in him. He does not like to lose control and get angry though.
He loves to cook, he was in the kitchens from an early age since he was considered too small to be a warrior. He scraped by an existence there until a human knight was passing through the area on a personal mission. Sir Dwyer. He was oddly sarcastically kind to Th’m and liked his food. The next morning he found the boy (now 11) with his bags packed sitting by his horse, ready to go. He accepted him as his squire. Noone really missed the boy although they were short a cook, they only realized after he left how good their food had been during that time. By then it was too late, he never returned to the village.
With Sir Dwyer he spent the next 10 years as his squire, alter as his (secret) protégé. Dwyer was an older middle aged knight who had a lowly position amongst the nobility as he was from a smaller house with little wealth. He was drunk a lot of the time. His main job was as a sort of private investigator for the upper classes in Chessanta. Chasing down runaway teens, gathering gambling debts, infidelity etc. As such Th’m has learned much in the ways of that world (urban bounty hunter background).
He also learned how to really fight. A warrior (champion), he wields a polearm preferably. They would enter tournaments and sometimes (more and more later on as he grew) Th’mugen would wear a face covering helm to pretend he was nobility and spank the other human squires. This ruse only lasted so long…one day he was discovered. Although there was no law or rule forbidding low born squires or half orc heritage, Dwyer was chased out of the circuit and even challenged to a duel one night outside a tavern. He was drunk and was killed trying to defend Th’mugen’s honor. In a rage, Th’m killed the murderous knight who killed his liege. He had to flee the lands in a hurry.
He ended up getting a job for a trading caravan as a guard and also as a cook. The caravan was heading for Neverwinter (a long ass trip from Chessanta).
(two score years ago, somewhere in Chessanta)
Dwyer eyed the boy, mangy and fierce, standing before him. He was small for his race, half of the orc and half of the human. Wiry muscles enveloped a strong bone structure. He was so strong and many an orc had made the mistake of underestimating the little shit and suffered as a result.
He puffed furiously on his pipe. When he found the boy he had just finished thrashing a group of older orc children who were teasing him (by trying to break his arm). That did not go so well for them. At any rate that was then and now it is time for a drink.
“Did you clean the camp?” A nod.
“Sharpen my sword?” Another.
“Have you started dinner?”. At this the boy propped up and looked excited. He nodded and Dwyer supposed that he had made something special, again. The little whelp was turning out to be a great cook, Dwyer though to himself, and he seems to enjoy it the strange beast!
Dwyer sighed, he really wanted a drink. But he could see the boy would not give up.
“Ok then, I suppose it is time for me to teach you how to fight?”
The boy looked at him for a long time. Then he spoke, his voice was clear and steady,the first thing he had taught him was the common tongue and how to speak it properly. It was hard with the little tusks that peeked outside of his mouth, one on either side.
“I want to fight like you do, Sir”
Dwyer puffed furiously, thinking. Then he made a decision.
“Very well then. We start now.”
Brother Ioan Starkhaven