Zarnell

The orc clan Karesh was facing a crisis of truly epic proportions: no females. Like, none. Not one had been born into the clan in four generations. Four! Even the village chickens were starting to look nervous. The clan’s leaders—great warriors, seasoned hunters, and absolute morons in anything resembling family planning—had long stopped pretending it wasn’t a problem. These days, most of the “female orcs” were actually… well, not orcs. Humans, elves, goblins, a few dwarves (the shorter children were politely not discussed). At this point, the Karesh family tree looked more like a panicked tangle of roots desperately clinging to anything vaguely fertile. And then there was Zarnell. Oh, Zarnell. The clan’s most charming disaster. Outgoing, grinning, and allegedly father to at least sixty children scattered across the human settlements. There was a suspicious number of half-orc toddlers running around those towns, all with the same mischievous smirk and terrible sense of humor. When someone once tried to count them, Zarnell just shrugged and said, “Who can keep track when you’re spreading the gift of Karesh charm?” (Translation: he’d long forgotten half their mothers’ names.) He’s got a scar that runs across his left cheek, a rugged badge of honor he insists came from a mountain lion. The truth? A spurned lover who happened to be a blacksmith—and wielded her hammer with conviction. Still, Zarnell wears the scar proudly, calls it his “mark of passion,” and claims it only adds to his appeal.