"You gave me no choice. I owe you nothing!" - Aicanaro
"That was all done before I was born. I didn't ask for anything, I did nothing. Why would you expect me to fulfil any duty now? What I give you now is what I want to give you. It is MY decision, MY sacrifice. You say I am one of you, you say I must follow the code of your kind. I am my father's son, and he's the only one I respond to.." He didn't say it outloud. Some day he maybe will, but not today. Maybe he would never venture to oppose the clan so straightforward, but he didn't question his own courage, he was quite content with the excuse that such a recklessness would almost certainly put an end on his ambitions, let alone his relatively good terms with the clan. They were still ready to follow him, why would he destroy this fragile loyalty with his own hands. He just stood before them, quiet and solemn, patiently withstanding their crude rituals..
Aicanaro, as his mother called him, or Umuulak, as he was known to the orcs, was born in an unnatural union of an Orsimer chieftain and his Altmer concubine to a small Orcish clan somewhere in the swamps of central High Rock. As much as the old orc cared for his women and the progeny they provided, he would never think of Aicanaro, who inherited his mother's appearance almost perfectly, as his heir. At the moment the chieftain was about to quit the Mundus though, the mongrel appeared the only child of his still alive and capable of prolonging the orc's both bloodline and reign. The fact that his comely boy survived mostly because he was never entrusted with any critical task and nobody would imagine him putting a claim on the clan or presenting any other threat only made the choice more harrowing to the dying chieftain. He departed without outspeaking his last will, and the burden of the choice fell into the hands of his closest friend, his brother in arms, a seasoned orc warrior, as vigilant as harsh in his decisions. He was indeed the right person to do it, and he knew what the clan expected from him. His own son, a proper orc, with strong mind and strong body, would be one accepted by the clan as their new leader, one to lead them for many decades. His own blood told him to do it, he earned this privilege. But he trampled on all the reasons and all the temptations, he couldn't betray one who was his friend and his chiftain, one who trusted him. And he went against the clan and against his blood. He made this Altmer, who was still an Orc to him and the legitimate heir. He forced his son and the entire clan to accept his decision, and said to himself that he will deal with his own doubts later, sometime. With that the reign of Umuulak, also known as Aicanaro, was started.
He was neither shy nor weak. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to obtain it. He couldn't compete with the orcs in raw power, let alone toughness, despite his spectacular, for a young Altmer, physique, but he had what nobody of them did. However impure that was still the Altmer blood he felt boiling within him, goading him forward and showing him the ways. He never looked for the academic magic, they were way too formal for what a wild being he was, he needed something suiting both his attitude and his most pressing needs. And the right answer was right there. The witchery. It wasn't particularly satisfying, nor they were outright willing to open their secrets without him putting himself into yet another service in addition to his responsibility for the Orcish clan, but it was still something to start from. Soon he found what he thought they missed, something for just himself. He was still too young, too naive and too impatient, and he rushed into what breach in the wall he saw. He made it his second nature..
The orcs didn't have to know. They were his soldiers, the force he'd use to fulfil his ambitions, even if it meant the end of the clan. He wasn't sure whether he would really be able to betray them, leave them behind or send into abyss, but he liked to think that he would. Their ways coincided as far as Aicanaro ventured to look into the future, he did mean to lead the clan toward power and glory, he just knew his union with them wouldn't last forever. They might grow loyal to him, recognize his abilities, even consider him a true Orc, but he didn't want to be one of them. Even the role of a lonely warlock doing a menial work for the local Breton lords seemed more appealing to him, and often he just left the clan to become his other self, only to come back every time though and use his recently obtained experience for another advance of his Orcish brethren.
"That was all done before I was born. I didn't ask for anything, I did nothing. Why would you expect me to fulfil any duty now? What I give you now is what I want to give you. It is MY decision, MY sacrifice. You say I am one of you, you say I must follow the code of your kind. I am my father's son, and he's the only one I respond to.." He didn't say it outloud. Some day he maybe will, but not today. Maybe he would never venture to oppose the clan so straightforward, but he didn't question his own courage, he was quite content with the excuse that such a recklessness would almost certainly put an end on his ambitions, let alone his relatively good terms with the clan. They were still ready to follow him, why would he destroy this fragile loyalty with his own hands. He just stood before them, quiet and solemn, patiently withstanding their crude rituals..
Aicanaro, as his mother called him, or Umuulak, as he was known to the orcs, was born in an unnatural union of an Orsimer chieftain and his Altmer concubine to a small Orcish clan somewhere in the swamps of central High Rock. As much as the old orc cared for his women and the progeny they provided, he would never think of Aicanaro, who inherited his mother's appearance almost perfectly, as his heir. At the moment the chieftain was about to quit the Mundus though, the mongrel appeared the only child of his still alive and capable of prolonging the orc's both bloodline and reign. The fact that his comely boy survived mostly because he was never entrusted with any critical task and nobody would imagine him putting a claim on the clan or presenting any other threat only made the choice more harrowing to the dying chieftain. He departed without outspeaking his last will, and the burden of the choice fell into the hands of his closest friend, his brother in arms, a seasoned orc warrior, as vigilant as harsh in his decisions. He was indeed the right person to do it, and he knew what the clan expected from him. His own son, a proper orc, with strong mind and strong body, would be one accepted by the clan as their new leader, one to lead them for many decades. His own blood told him to do it, he earned this privilege. But he trampled on all the reasons and all the temptations, he couldn't betray one who was his friend and his chiftain, one who trusted him. And he went against the clan and against his blood. He made this Altmer, who was still an Orc to him and the legitimate heir. He forced his son and the entire clan to accept his decision, and said to himself that he will deal with his own doubts later, sometime. With that the reign of Umuulak, also known as Aicanaro, was started.
He was neither shy nor weak. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to obtain it. He couldn't compete with the orcs in raw power, let alone toughness, despite his spectacular, for a young Altmer, physique, but he had what nobody of them did. However impure that was still the Altmer blood he felt boiling within him, goading him forward and showing him the ways. He never looked for the academic magic, they were way too formal for what a wild being he was, he needed something suiting both his attitude and his most pressing needs. And the right answer was right there. The witchery. It wasn't particularly satisfying, nor they were outright willing to open their secrets without him putting himself into yet another service in addition to his responsibility for the Orcish clan, but it was still something to start from. Soon he found what he thought they missed, something for just himself. He was still too young, too naive and too impatient, and he rushed into what breach in the wall he saw. He made it his second nature..
The orcs didn't have to know. They were his soldiers, the force he'd use to fulfil his ambitions, even if it meant the end of the clan. He wasn't sure whether he would really be able to betray them, leave them behind or send into abyss, but he liked to think that he would. Their ways coincided as far as Aicanaro ventured to look into the future, he did mean to lead the clan toward power and glory, he just knew his union with them wouldn't last forever. They might grow loyal to him, recognize his abilities, even consider him a true Orc, but he didn't want to be one of them. Even the role of a lonely warlock doing a menial work for the local Breton lords seemed more appealing to him, and often he just left the clan to become his other self, only to come back every time though and use his recently obtained experience for another advance of his Orcish brethren.
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