Andrass Wolfborn, Bane of Orcs
Orc Hunter, Bree-Land Guide and rescuer.
Bree-land, Northern Downs, The Lone Lands
Andrass Wolfborn was born in a rural, northern farm in the Lands of Bree around twenty years ago, to a man named Candir, once a proud nobleman of Gondor, and a Bree-land woman named Sarah.
Candir, a Gondorian noble from the port city of Dol Amroth, came to Gondor over twenty years ago, after leaving the Gondorian Military in disgrace and dishonor. He traveled many miles west, eventually settling in the Land of Bree, where his great-ancestors, descendants of the Kingdom of Cardolan and Arnor, once lived. It was here he found and married the woman named Sarah Wolfborn and, upon marrying her, took her last name as his own. Together, the two had a son who Sarah named Andrass, a common name fitting the region, but to whom Candir called Arafyn, meaning Forest Wolf in Sindarin. Although he held a Sindarin name, Candir and Sarah agreed that, so the people of Bree would accept him more, they would only refer to his Western name of Andrass.
Many years passed, and Andrass grew to be a boy of seven summers, who enjoyed running and climbing, as well as the old stories his mother and father told him of distant lands and far away places. His favorite was of dwarves and elves, who he found fascinating. He also took a passionate interest in reading and writing, being almost as poetic in his speech-craft as that of the Elvish songwriters of Rivendell, or so his mother claimed, and would often perform merry songs for his family and their farmhands during great feasts. Their family owned a small farm, to which his mother inherited from her father, in which they grew wheat and apples for the locals of Bree, often going into town to trade with the locals. It was in Bree that Andrass became friends with a young Scholar, named Billy Woodfoot, who was a Hobbit scholar who’d lost his leg on an expedition into the old Cardolan ruins of Midgewater. It was this Hobbit who gave young Andrass his first book, to which the Hobbit himself had written, about the languages of the ancient Númenóreans and encouraged the young man in his pursuit of Academic knowledge and poetic writing. However, if there is one fact about this Middle-Earth that lies true, is that fate is a devilish mistress.
It was on the eave of his eighth birthday, a night Andrass would soon never forget that his life was changed forever. He awoke the sounds of shouting and screaming, as well as to the smell of burning tar and blood. His father burst into his room, covered in the black-oozing blood of Orcs, wearing his Gondorian Armor and wielding his sword. His face was scratched and bruised, covered in dirt and soot. His eyes were red and glassy, as tears filled his eyes. He then grabbed the young Dunadan, for that is what he was, and carried him out of the burning house. As they left, Andrass looked at horror at the site of a few men, sprawled on the floor, their bodies punctured by arrows and their faces contorted in a horrific pose of fear and agony. Among the men were the slain bodies of Orcs, the likes of which Andrass had never seen before. While true, he had known a small war party to attack; they had never before come in such numbers.
It wasn’t until after the two had left the small, now burning, farmhouse did Andrass become exposed to the carnage around him. All around him, the people of Wolfborn Farm fought to keep the Tarkrîp clan of Orcs at bay. Despite their valiant efforts, more and more of the ones Andrass had known began to die around him. It was at this point that Candir sets the boy down, telling him to stay behind him, as he held his sword toward the Orcs that had slowly began circling them. It was at this point that the architect of the battle, a massive Gundabad Orc name Orogz, the Breeder. The Orc stood seven feet tall, carrying a massive war-ax of dwarven make, and who’s thick skin was red as blood. His eyes were like pure-golden orbs, who would turn those weak of heart to stone just looking into them.
The Gundabad-Orc smiled at the lone, dirty and tired, Gondorian knight. He then held up his hand, causing the orcs around him to form a massive ring around Orogz and Candir, turning the area into an arena. The Orc then gestured for Andrass to leave, ordering one of his soldiers to grab the boy as he, and Candir, to fight in single combat.
With no choice in the matter, Candir agreed to the duel, and soon, he and Orogz began their duel, right in front of everyone. Andrass tried to call out for help but soon found that the Orcs had overrun the farm. Any that were not slain or captured had long fled the farm, leaving the Orc’s captives to their gruesome and abhorrent faint. As he called out, an Orc soldier drew his knife and slashed the young boy across his face, simply out of annoyance for the boy and love at causing pain, before the two turn their sights to the duel. The duel was one for the ages, as speed and mobility clashed against brute force. The clanging of sword against axe, axe against pieces of armor, rang through the area. The fight seemed to favor Candir, at first, as the Gondorian’s speed and reflexes parried and dodged the Orc’s savage swings. However, speed soon gave way to fatigue, and, in the final moment, Candir tripped on a root and soon lost balance. As he did so, Orogz heaved his heavy war-axe and cleaved the warrior’s head clean off, sending the man’s lifeless head sailing into a nearby rabbit hole. With a cry of sorrow and fear from Andrass, soon drowned out by the Orcs cheering their leader, the Gundabad Orc soon turned his attention toward the young boy. At first, one Orc suggested the slave pits for him, another suggested they eat him, but soon more horrifying and sinister suggestions were brought fouth. Then, just as the great Orc went to grab the boy, a small volley of arrows rain down from the Orcs, slaying most, and followed by two more arrows that seem to whizz by Andrass’ head, sinking into both eyes of Orogz. As the Orcs scrambled and screamed, suddenly, a rider burst from one of the great fires around them, riding a majestic white horse clad in elvish armor. The rider was a tall, cloak figure armed with an Elvish bow and arrows. The Elf rider made short work of the Orcs, releasing arrow after arrow within seconds of one another, never missing their marks. The rider soon got off the Horse and revealed herself as the Elf Warrior named Faradril, meaning she who hunts in Sindarin, before fighting her way through the Orcs.
When she reached the young boy, scarred and bleeding, she reached out to comfort him but was soon set upon by the blinded Orogz. The Orc grabbed the Elf by her neck, forcing her toward the ground with a crash b as he started choking her to death. Then, out of nowhere, it seemed, the Orc let go of the She-Elf and howled in pain, as Andrass shoved his father’s dagger straight into the Orcs back. As Orogz recoiled, turning to face the child, Faradill grabbed her sword and sliced the foul creature’s head clean off, avenging the Gondorian warrior.
After that, as a sign of gratitude, the Elf adopted the young boy after helping him free the others who had been captured. The task was not difficult, as the Orcs fled back north after the defeat of their leader. However, few captives were taken with them, and the young boy’s mother, Sarah Wolfborn, had been slain during the battle. When the fires were quelled, and the dead were buried, young Andrass swore upon the grave’s of his father, mother, friends, and relatives, that he would never rest until every last Orc in Middle-Earth had died. It was then that Faradril, who too bore vengeance against the Orcs, named the boy Naxadagnir, meaning Slayer of Orcs
The two then traveled for many years, though it was a few years ago that Faradril disappeared, not to be seen in the realm of Bree again, and that Andrass began traveling alone.
Few to none
Any and all Orcs, Goblins, servants and followers of Orcs.
Reading, Hunting Orcs, saving people, a Pinte of good ale and a slice of bread.
Orcs, Orc Allies, Goblins, cowards, those who hate him.
Driven by revenge, his goal is to kill every last Orc in Middle-Earth
"Oh to the spirit of revenge, thou has task me with a lonely road that stretches ever onward, through deary streets and bumpy roads, to be set to task by those dead and those soon to die."