Deepwater's Restless Dead
Umbrage, Inquisitor of Gorum, has no mercy for the weak.
Inquisitor of Gorum, CG 1/2 elf 6’ 6" tall and 160 pounds, Umbrage is lean and wiry. It is difficult to believe that he can carry, let alone wield, the 2-handed great sword that is both his weapon and his holy symbol.
At a young age Umbrage saw his village destroyed by a raiding party of orcs. His father died without raising a weapon, and his mother was taken. He hid from the raiders, but when all was done, he emerged to find a weapon and follow them. The only weapon he could find was a great sword, which, being only a child, he could not even lift. He took after the raiding party, dragging the sword behind him. On the trail, he found his mother, being brutalized by an orc. He yelled and tried to fight, but the sword was too heavy. The orc laughed as his mother begged for mercy. He watched helpless as the orc killed his mother. He charged, bare handed, but was easily struck down. When he came to consciousness, the orc was slowly walking away laughing. Grabbing the sword the child cursed his weakness, cursed the weakness of his village, the weakness of a father unable to defend his family, cursed his mother for her weak begging, and cursed his inability to raise the sword . . .
From nearby a light shone on the child. Looking up he saw a hideous visage, more beast than humanoid, with bulging muscles that seemed to wrap like ropes around the being. “FEAR ME CHILD!” But fear did not come. Instead a rage built inside the young half-elf, and he screamed his wrath as he attacked the creature. Laughing the avatar of Gorum spoke: “It is well with you youngling. Look how your enemy cowers in fear! Take up my weapon! Smite the evil doer! Yours is the path of Strength, yours the task of destroying the evil ones who prey only on those weaker than themselves! I name you Umbrage, and YOURS IS THE INQUISITION OF GORUM!”
Without thought the young inquisitor grabbed the sword and lifted it with one hand. He saw before him the orc, mumbling and shaking in fear, kneeling in the snow. The sword moved naturally in his hand, as he looked the frightened orc in the eye and struck his head from his shoulders.
One by one, the raiding party fell. Unafraid to face a child with a sword taller than himself dragging from his hand, they soon found themselves faced with a stern-faced inquisitor of Gorum, wielding that diety’s holy weapon like a trained shoulder.
There is a shrine to Gorum in the woods near a burned out village on the northern border. The shrine is ringed by the skulls of 24 barbarian orcs…