Brennok hails from the village of Grein Iron, inhabited by a tribe of outcasted Half-Orcs located deep in the cold mountainous regions to the north. The tribe is made up mostly of Half-Orcs casted away by Orc tribes, deeming them weaker and and far less savage than even the most lowly and feeble of pure Orcs. Despite harsh conditions and little food, the tribe thrives on the one thing most Orcs don’t have, civility. Trading the pure iron mined from the mountains, they made what was once considered inhospitable their home. Much to the chagrin of the Orcs who threw them to the cold.
Hearing the story told again and again by his Father, Vulrok, Brennok and his four siblings, Gorik, Nirca, Tirup, and Rhostig grew feeling proud of their heritage of coming from the ashes. Both Traders, Vulrok and the mother, Glosif, operated one of the few iron trading posts of this village. His older siblings took to it naturally, but Brennok never could quite understand the fine inner-workings of the trade his parents hoped to leave to their children one day. Instead, Brennok found that he was much better swinging around a pick and mining ore, for despite being the youngest, He grew a head taller and a barrel of beer wider than his siblings.
One night, after a bit of heavy drinking, Brennok was on his way back home when a lone arrow struck the ground between his stumbling feet. In a blurry haze, he found the closest thing he could use to defend himself, an axe stuck on a stump. By the time he pulled it out, five bandits who had snuck into his village were upon him. Swinging wildly and clumsily, he was able to keep them at bay, but a second arrow found it’s mark, hitting Brennok in his left shoulder. The pain in the first second was terrible, but by the second, it lessened and his blood began to boil. Rage had become his anesthetic and his swings became wilder and deadlier. All was lost in a red haze, and when it cleared, there he stood alone, covered in blood and gripping an axe. Five bodies surrounded him, two nearly cleaved in half. When he turned, a lone hooded figure clutching a bow fled deeper into the mountains, presumably out of fear. Though kind at heart, Brennok felt a great deal of satisfaction out of killing the would be raiders who would harm his tribe.
A few days after the event, Brennok, after much thinking, decided it was time to leave his family and his home. As much as he loved them, he didn’t wish to spend his years toiling in the mine and thought he would be of better use outside the village. After a large celebration, the local blacksmith presented him with a single pauldron for his shoulder as a parting gift before he left the next day. Sharing one more hug with his family, he joined up with a group of trappers and began his adventure into the wild world beyond his home.
Traveling with the trappers for a few weeks, he learned the skills needed to live off the land and save what little money he had for beer too keep him warm during the night. Once they reached the first large city they happened to be traveling through, they bid Brennok farewell and continued their journey. From this point on, Brennok lent his axe to any noble and good intentioned mercenary group and fighters guild that would have him. And, while some people found that anger was something to keep in check, he soon found it to be very profitable, eventually saving up enough for a shiny new greatsword. Eventually, he became entranced by a far off island to the west with talks of gold and dragons. He bought passage to the island of Argonessen and arrived at Gilddock Bay to a familiar blindfolded face that he once ran into during his travels.