Oros was a fearsome hunter from the Uterran capitol before he awakened his powers as a Forgeborn. A large gem was embedded into his flesh after a battle with an elder Uterradon Rex, lending him power and ancient knowledge. Do not underestimate this satyr.
Oros never wanted this life. He never asked for any of this.
Oros had always been a loner. He was just a simple hunter once. When he was a youth, and other boys dreamt of joining the Summerguard and played as Guardians, Oros taught himself to track by retracing the steps of their games. They never invited him to join in. He never asked.
While his brethren frolicked, Oros watched. He listened. Not to them, but to the world around them. He never truly felt at home amongst his people. But in the vast expanse of the wilderness surrounding Deepwood? There he felt truly alive.
The Uterra are not a strict and regimented people, but they have their ways. They have their traditions. And Oros wanted none of it, even once he’d come of age. Their songs fell flat to his ears. Their dances failed to move him. Amidst their laughter and their ritual, he was alone.
So he left.
The elders sent him out to hunt that day, as they always did. While they did not appreciate his attitude, they respected his skills, and the bounty he brought back from his excursions.
Despite his expertise, they still tried to direct him, and Oros bristled against their commands. They had sent him to hunt in the Gloomtangle, where he had spent so much of his youth. Oros knew the tangle was picked clean, and told the elders as much.
They replied that the quarry of the Gloomtangle were blessed in this season, and thus it was there he must hunt. Oros snorted derisively and walked out.
He didn’t go to the tangle. He would abide none of their talk of blessings. Prey was prey, wherever it might tread. He set out to hunt where he knew game would be plentiful, for it was a place where the elders forbade any hunters to go – Crystalscar.
The elders said the place was cursed, that some long-dead spirit had bewitched the cavern such that nothing would grow there. But when he had passed the cursed hollow on outings as a boy, Oros had always seen beasts milling about just at the cavern’s maw. Indeed, as Oros found his way through the last of the winding, overgrown tunnels between Deepwood and Crystalscar, he came upon a huge, hulking Uterradon.
Oros slowed to a crawl. His hunter’s instincts kicked in, and he stepped silently through the tangled underbrush. He raised his blade as he drew closer…
Suddenly, the beast looked up, locked eyes with the hunter, and charged.
Oros lept out of the monster’s way and slashed his blade down upon its neck as it barreled toward him. It bellowed in pain, its roar sending shudders throughout the cave. Then it turned again toward the hunter, undeterred, and barreled onward once more.
Oros danced the one dance whose steps he ever bothered to learn, ducking and rolling as the beast threatened to trample him. And every time, he drew its blade once more across its thick flesh, leaving a spiderweb of cuts that threatened to drain the beast dry. He laughed to himself – at the beast’s ponderous movements, the elder’s foolishness – all of it.
And then he fell.
His feet came down where there was no more stone to stand on, and he tumbled into darkness.
When Oros awoke, the beast was gone. Looking up, he could scarcely see the ledge from which he’d fallen, so high it was above. The walls around him glowed eerily, not the warm radiance let off by the crystals in the caverns of Deepwood, but a cold ghostly light.
Despite his fall, Oros felt no pain. He stood effortlessly and marveled at his fortune. How was he alive? And then he heard the voice.
Your time is not done here yet, child.
Oros felt a flare of warmth in his chest and looked down. Thick vines had wrapped themselves around his ribcage – or were they growing from it? And in the center was a pulsating gem.
It spoke to him again.
It is good you have found me, child. Darkness looms. There is much to be done...
Stats prior to phase 2 of the rebalance.