Ulka knew the warmth of family for less than an hour. Her first cries were a wail of grief for her parents, slaughtered alongside the rest of her hold in a brutal raid by rival orcs. The murderers left the orphaned child untouched among the corpses, prey for wolves or the elements to take, chortling and sporting among each other for their cruelty. Empty Hand scouts found the babe not long after, screaming in defiance at the heavens, as if daring the gods themselves to answer for their sins.
The Empty Hand had come to recruit Ulka’s people to the banner of their leader, Grask Uldeth. A tiny bundle swaddled in boar skin was not the prize they sought, but they obeyed their orders all the same. Ulka grew up a sullen child in Urgir, troubled and quiet except for outbursts of unprovoked ferocity. Far from considering this inappropriate, the orcs who raised Ulka were impressed by her ferocity, encouraging her to turn her anger into a blade upon the battlefield. Ulka resented them all for this, loathing those who saw her pain as an opportunistic tool. Of course, this bitterness only made her tutors and caretakers prouder.
Ulka does not remember how she fell in with Grask’s second-in-command, Ardax the White-Hair. All she recalls is that Ardax had little interest in her temper or even her prowess in combat. Instead, Ardax would ask her questions she didn’t have the answer to or challenge her to seemingly simple games that were far more complex than they first appeared. While this led to quite a few tantrums from young Ulka, she appreciated these mental challenges far more than any other lessons the Empty Hand inflicted on her.
She was eventually adopted and raised by Ardax’s militant enforcers, the Closed Fist. This upbringing focused on developing her martial prowess, with Ardax personally seeing to her instruction in lessons of strategy and leadership. Ulka excelled in all categories, though she could never quite match the older man’s uncanny prescience. Even now, though Ulka scoffs at the thought of fate or prophecy, she wonders if Ardax sought her out because of her potential. For a while, she even dared to believe she had found her place with him, her future.
Perhaps Ulka might have one day commanded her own orc hold. Yet once again, death came to call upon her. Once again, it strode past her without a nod and took everything away from her.
Ulka Oathshriek, the iconic commander.
Art by Wayne Reynolds.It came on an evening like any other, when Ulka was standing watch. As the moon hung high overhead, she began to feel a nagging doubt in the back of her mind, so she checked on Grask Uldeth to discover the warlord dead. His body was left on his throne, ran through with multiple swords. This was meant to have been a simple duty and yet she had seen nothing, heard nothing. Such supreme failure, even if the assassination had been the result of powerful magic, would lead to only the direst of consequences for her.
Ulka knew her limits. She had no chance of unraveling the truth in her current position, with her current skills and knowledge. Rather than let herself be used as a pawn, to let others make her pain into another tool, she chose to flee Urgir. Ulka would gather allies, finding plenty of orcs and others who were as cast aside and wronged by the world as she was. She would build her power until an opportunity to avenge Grask and reclaim her reputation presented itself.
Mercenary work sustained her. It was plenty, and it was Hell. Together, she and her followers clawed a living from troughs of bloody ground. Despite her stern orders and brutal punishments, her efforts left too many orphans, yowling babes left to lament the world’s cruelty just as she had. Ulka refused to let her rage consume her, as the Empty Hand had urged her in her youth, but she felt whatever passed as her soul grew scabs and scars. Her commands became louder, more demanding, more vicious. Her troops gave her the surname Oathshriek for her battle cry, which promised violence to her enemies and even greater violence to her gods should she fall in battle.
Death came to her again, this time laden with rewards. While orcs could face prejudice among the people of the Inner Sea, many were happy to hire orc mercenaries to slay their foes. Ulka proved herself over and over, earning renown with Nirmathi irregulars, Druman Blackjackets, Isgeri border patrols, and even Andoren Eagle Knights. Her victories soon preceded her, presenting new opportunities with prestigious mercenary groups and local militaries alike. Money flowed into her pockets, and bright young soldiers flocked to her flag. She sent them into combat to their deaths, and they cheered her for it.
Gorum’s death brought further riches and ruin. Ulka is in high demand, able to pick and choose her jobs as she likes. She knows she could even ride back into Urgir if she wanted, to be welcomed back with open arms. Yet why should she? Nothing different awaits her there, only more bloody battles as Belkzen fights with Tar-Baphon and traitorous holds of orcs. More and more, Ulka knows the only home for her is among the bones and ashes. The fighting blackens her soul, but to lay down her arms would be cowardice. To refuse to fight for the helpless, to let others be slaughtered like her family, would be immoral. And to find peace, to find a home, is impossible. Nowhere in the world escapes the specter of war. Nowhere in the world is far enough to run.
Ulka fights, surviving when others fall, waiting for the day a foe finally strikes true and pierces her heart. She waits for the day she can finally spit her dying breath at Pharasma’s feet.
Eleanor Ferron (she/her)
Senior Developer
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