Angulo Backstory
I grew up in the orc tribe, the Blackrock tribe, in the mountain, about 70 strong, but I was shunned at the age of 13, as physically I wasn't developing as well as the other Orc children. I never knew my mother, I was told she died at childbirth. I do not believe this to be true but I later found out she was human and they were not allowed to stay in the clan. Apparently I was an accident, and when my mother realised she was pregnant she journeyed to the Blackrock tribe in the hopes I would be cared for. It was always difficult for my father, Bok the fearless, as the chieftain of the Blackrock tribe, as it was frowned upon for outsiders to be allowed into the camp and I was such an outsider. Bok raised me raised me with tough love, never letting me know when I had done well but being quick to punish me when I failed. Upon reflection, this could have been to give myself a chance to prove that I belonged with the tribe, but, I always felt unwanted, hence me never using the name of my tribe or my family name when introducing myself. I wish to discover my mother’s last name so I may have a family name I identify with. This resulted in a lot of anger in my youth, which, combined with me having few friends, resulted in me being relatively happy when I was told to leave, as it was a chance for me to start my life afresh.
 
I never said goodbye to my father when he told me to leave. As I understand there was a calling of the chieftains by Gramvukk the Infernal, the warchief of the mountain clans. He returned from this meeting telling me I had to leave, and that I would understand one day. I do not know what was said, but at the time I was embarrassed but happy, as I felt this would be a fresh start as I had never belonged anyway.
 
The Blackrock tribe do not consider themselves to be part of an empire, but rather their own separate entity, happy to live as they have done for generations before, suspicious of outsiders or anyone who wishes to change their way of life. However, they were not looking to expand when I left, rather happy to be left by themselves. As far as I am aware, they have been left alone by everyone since my birth, at least when I was there.
 
I found my way to the potters guild, choosing to use my life to create things of beauty and interest as opposed to as a tool of roughness. From 13 to my current age, the guild and workshop has been my home, and I have learnt my place in the cities society. However, 3 months ago, this changed when my accident happened.
 
My left arm is burnt from elbow downwards and basically unusable, from an encounter with a kiln explosion. I suspect Grigor Time-Wolf as the man responsible. He became jealous of the beauty that I was able to produce, in spite of my genetic difficulties, with larger than normal hands. I saw him around the kiln prior to me starting work on that day, but thought nothing of it at the time. As I opened the door, a blast of fire came out, and the pressure caused the kiln to explode. One of my fellow potters was killed outright by part of the kiln hitting him in the head. The other was trapped, part of the shrapnel slicing through an artery in his leg, but landing on his chest, trapping him. He died of blood loss in front of my eyes. I was unable to help as my arm was almost fused to the door. I owe my life to my third friend, Bryra Morathirirr, a Firborg. I never saw her again after that day, I hope she is still alive so I may one day thank her, and show I did not waste the chance she gave me. (Bryra had to go home as her family were apparently struggling with the empire trying to expand into their ancestral homes. She decided to go home to see if she could help them by either fighting to stop the empire, or trying to find an amicable solution with them.)
 
Struggling to create pottery one handed, I decided to buy an expensive magical book as I healed. I have been trying to understand the inherent magic which runs through the world, after a customer showed me what he could do when he came to my workshop. However, this has been to the detriment of my work, and so my research has been very basic. I became able to use a mage hand to assist my pottery creation, which is where I found my study had assisted me into being magical myself. This gave me a newfound appreciation for my life also, allowing me once again to create things of beauty, even after my mutilation.
 
I wish to find a way to fix myself, however am not fixated on this as I believe my disfiguration has opened my eyes more to what can be achieved. I have begun praying to Solyma, the seraph of justice. I have heard circling of rumours that people are desecrating her name and handing out justice as they see fit, in her name. I wish to stop these individuals as they are not creating true justice, but rather their interpretation of justice.