That Brugmar Khazgul is an Orc is obvious from first glance. Dark green skin, pointed ears, and large tusks would make him obvious to even the most uneducated slave. But the man is so much more than simply his race. Even among his people, he towers over most. More than seven feet tall, and weighing more than three hundred pounds of pure muscle, the Orc is more a walking mountain than the common slave his origins would suggest. And his iron thews are that of a working man, not the useless sculpted show muscles of an actor or art model. Here is an Orc who earned his bulk through uncountable hours of manual labor. His wide, calloused hands bear witness to the truly dizzying number of various tasks that he has had to perform for as nearly as long as he can remember. When bereft of clothing, his back is a wicked map of whip scars. A reminder of his years of hard labor. Because he is so valued for his great physical strength, stylizing his appearance has never been a overriding concern. His wild mane of raven-black hair is usually thrown back in a casual and utilitarian bun. Very few of his masters have ever felt comfortable handing the big Orc a pair of scissors, if they cared to notice his grooming at all.

One oddity in his appearance are the collection of piercings through his ears and nose. The jewelry  is simple iron, and has no value in and of itself, which is probably why he has been allowed to keep them. Different areas of the world have different customs, and in several of the cities of his past ownership, it was custom to mark their slaves with piercings. The nose ring especially is a sign that he is a slave, for none of his free brethren would ever bear such a humiliation. Not that these bits of ornamentation seem to bother the burly man overmuch. His sky blue eyes are usually sparkling with amusement and warmth. For here is a slave that has taken the pain of the whip and a the cruelty of vile masters and transformed it into an endless well of joviality and empathy. Even when he has been forced to take brutal actions at the behest of his masters, he has never done so with malice. Odds are that slavery will gift him with a short life. And Brugmar has decided that when he meets his end, that it will be with a smile on his face, and laughter in his heart.

Unfortunately, Brugmar Khazgul's origins are a mystery, even to himself. His earliest memories are of a cage. He did not know how he came to be in this place, but in retrospect he realized that his first tangible thoughts were born in a slave auction house. For two years, he was often placed in the care of an Orc woman. And while she was kind, she was very clear that she was not his mother, and she had no knowledge of where they were, or how he came to be here. Any thoughts of finding them were quickly dashed in the quick, and thorough education of a slave. By age six he had been sold to his first master. A decadent and aloof Elf who saw him as nothing more than another tool in his toolbox. He worked a granite quarry for a full decade. Pain was the only tool of motivation. He was whipped fiercely nearly daily. However, the intense physical exertion blessed him with slabs of muscles, even above and beyond what was typical of his kin.

This great size was to be a curse, as during a dinner party, Brugmar was purchased by an acquaintance of his master who saw potential in his titanic form. For his part, his former master didn't care, as slaves were mere objects to him, and he forgot about Brugmar as soon as he was gone from his sight. Brugmar's new master, an excitable and greedy Gnome, forced him into the brutal world of slave fighting. Pseudo-gladiatorial matches for the entertainment of the wealthy and powerful who enjoyed blood-sports. Five years of this were the most terrible for Brugmar. Not because he suffered more than his years in the stone quarry, but because he was good at fighting, and he hurt a lot of people. It was one thing for pain to be inflicted upon him, but he hated inflicting it on others.

However, the bloodthirsty Gnome was a compulsive gambler, and one of his ventures did not go his way. Desperate for money, the Orc was sold off at the fastest opportunity. He was fortunate enough to be sold to an old man with mobility issues. At first his duties consisted only of transporting his new master up and down flights of stairs, and helping him in the washroom. However, the old man and Brugmar soon struck up a genuine friendship. For the first time in his life, Brugmar had a kind master. So that the burly Orc might be more useful, his master had Brugmar educated in a necessary trade for their old mansion: carpentry. The young slave was taught to read and write, mathematics, and woodworking. These were the happiest four years of Brugmar's life. Unfortunately, his master was quite old and frail, and passed in his sleep unexpectedly. Brugmar was auctioned off to a traveling slaver after the funeral. Knowing of the great opportunities for wealth in Leera, the slaver loaded up the Orc with all his other stock, and set sail for the swampy region.

Having only recently arrived, Brugmar waits to see what the future has in store for him.

Art Credit: https://leftski-art.tumblr.com/