Ordthunk Gore-Drinker

Name: Ordthunk Gore-Drinker
Sex: Male
Race: Orc
Profession: Barbarian Orc
Age: 20
Religion: The blood of his slain foes reveals flashes. Some say they are of the past, some say of the future, but all agree they are intoxicating.

Background: Ordthunk is of the Gore-Drinker Clan of orcs, and the son of the current chieftain. His father is quite old, and Ordthunk is preparing to take control. As he prepares to become War Chief, he has a goal in mind. The Gore-Drinker's claim to be the original orc clan that once ruled the lands around Garamad. Ordthunk's goal is to become the leader who unites the Orc bands, and wipes out Garamad.
Ordthunk is ambitious, and a vicious, bloodthirsty warrior. He is intelligent and charismatic... at least, as much as an orc can be. With a strong sense of pride, he takes any killing of orcs, of any clan, as a personal attack. He wields his battleaxe Slaughter without technique, but more than makes up for it with furious power.

I like him =) Also gets lots of ideas spinning in my head.

Thanks Joker. I'm hoping I can get some interesting fight scenes going on between him and one of the good characters. Wait a second... I think I put him in stories instead of characters. Oops. Okay, really quick story time to cover this mistake.

Ordthunk was angry. Ordthunk was always angry, but right now he was especially angry. He always was whenever he stood on his mountain outcropping looking over Garamad. That my city, he thought. I gonna take it one day. He could form better sentences if necessary, but as an orc, wouldn't unless he had to.
Ordthunk turned around and walked back into his camp of warriors. They were growing, but still weren't much more than a typical orc band. They numbered maybe thirty strong. Around twenty were Gore-Drinkers, his clan, but ten or so were orcs who had joined with him. Ordthunk's promise of pillaging Garamad was a tempting one for a people who had been slaughtered by all the "good" races.
"Ordthunk, I got news." A scout orc ran up to him. Ordthunk looked on him with anger and disdain, like he did with everyone. "Small group of Firewaders killed. Edge Farlok Forest. Wounds say Gerwulf and a another. At this, Ordthunk smiled. This dwarf had been causing problems for the orcs in the mountain for a long time. Longer than Ordthunk had been alive. If Ordthunk's axe could remove this problem, then many orcs would join with the Gore-Drinkers. As for the other, the more the merrier. Still, there were questions.
"How did you find out? They on other side of mountain range."
"Someone saw it in blood. "
"I see. Then we hunt!" At this much louder war shout, the rest of the band lept up, weapons in hand. "Pack camp, orcs, for we go through mountains to Farlok!" They began hooting, grunting, and snarling, packing up their camp.
Soon after, they were running through the hills and mountains, looking for a dwarf and other.

After two day's time traveling alongside the Garamad River, Ordthunk and his band were coming across their first obstacle on their way through the mountains to Gerwulf and the other. The second eastern cave was a half mile from them, and they could see a small party of dwarves before it. Though his band outnumbered them three to one, Ordthunk could not allow himself delusions. These dwarves were better equiped, bunkered down, and in all likelihood, better trained. Attacking them head on would be at best a Pyrrhic Victory.
Unfortunately for Ordthunk, he had not been the orc to spot them. So some confrontation was required, else he would quickly be deposed as leader. To buy time for to think of an assault tactic, he told the orcs to prepare their bows. If a head on charge was all that he could end up doing, the bows might take out a few dwarves before the battle.
"What can I do? Those cursed dwarves are fortified in strong, and there is barely enough brush ahead to cover five of my orcs. I need a stroke of luck, Slaughter, my axe." Sometimes adressing his axe gave him inspiration. Then, like magic, it did, and he spotted what he needed. "Yes... bless you Krig forefather."
As an orc climbed up to him, he cemented his plan. "When is the attack, Ordthunk?" Adjusting his speech to fit with what most orcs could muster, he replied,
"Now. Tell orcs to advance until able to fire. When scum scramble, cut down. I go alone."
Ordthunk sprinted off, needing to move fast. For the next several minutes, he moved as fast as he could to get to what he needed before the skirmish started. He managed it just in time. Panting, he waited for the first arrows to fly, so he could act. Then, there they were, and one dwarf of the thirteen fell before the others could turn. Now distracted, Ordthunk could smile as he dropped the secret weapon of this fight.
A boulder, right onto their heads.
With a push against the boulder with his legs and the mountain with his back, Ordthunk dropped a boulder careening down onto the soon to be dead dwarves. He was able to admire his handiwork as all but one of the dwarves was crushed. The last one was set upon by thirty orcs eager for blood.
With a self-satisfied smile, Ordthunk raised Slaughter over his head and roared. The day was his, soon the orc race too, and one day hopefully Garamad. Gerwulf and the other would meet him soon enough, but he could only grow stronger until then.