Craklin the Blackened Champion Lore
For their brute strength, low cunning, and intuitive grasp of hierarchy, Ogryn are often employed as lieutenants by greater scheming masters. In this capacity as emissary, enforcer, or bodyguard, they can accumulate great power and prestige. This was a role once played by the Ogryn now known as Craklin, whose true name is lost to secrecy, subterfuge and the paranoia of his former master, Dathragon, a secretive sorcerer-prince of the dread necropolis of lreth. Before being enslaved by Dathragon, Craklin was a shaman who practiced healing incantations and curses, as well as mind-fortifying magic to rally his clan in battle. He wove subtle enchantments of frenzy and anger into the rhythmic beating of his tambourine, driving his Ogryn into a panic of half-terrified and half-manic desperation to serve him. Dathragon was intrigued by his battle-arts, which relied on Ogryn magic unfamiliar to lrethi academic magic schools. He sent a wave of ghouls to wipe out Craklin’s clan and take him into captivity.
Craklin had always been a brutish tyrant, respecting power above all else. Having seen himself and his whole clan humbled by the might of Dathragon, he realized that he had been weak. Thus his initial resentment of Dathragon quickly turned to aspiration, a burning desire to wield the same strength as the necromancer. Dathragon forced Craklin to perform many horrific acts to prove his loyalty, including enslaving more Ogryn and subjecting them to brutal vivisections and necromantic grafts. To make the Ogryn a more useful servant and provide an enticing incentive to remain loyal, Dathragon taught Craklin lrethi death—magic, doling out small morsels of the arcane might Craklin openly craved.
When the merchants supplying Dathragon with grisly reagents, he and other sorcerer-princes used for his experiments came under attack by a clan of Orcs led by one called Gharol, Dathragon helped defeat and capture the Orcs. He gave Craklin the job of meting out torturous retribution upon them. Others joined him, all performing their own agonizing experiments on the captives. Craklin gleefully applied himself to the task, sharing no sympathy for Gharol who occupied a position of helplessness as he once did — to him, since Gharol had lacked the strength to protect herself, she deserved whatever horrors befell her. Unbeknownst to the Ogryn, the experiments unlocked supernatural power in Gharol, who concealed her new pyromantic strength until she was ready to attempt escape.
When she did, Craklin was at the forefront of the response, directing guards to subdue the prison break. The riot quickly widened in scope as other captive horrors and slaves in the dungeons were freed by Gharol as distractions, seizing keys from their jailors, ripping their captors apart and scrambling for freedom. Craklin largely suppressed the insurrection, slaughtering or recapturing scores, but Gharol’s Orcs proved too powerful for him to subdue. When the two finally met in the filthy corridors, Gharol channeled her awakened fire-blood through her wounds, and engulfed Craklin and his guards in flames. All perished, reduced to ash and molten metal, save for Craklin, who quaffed a necromantic potion of his own design concocted using both his Ogryn shamanism and the teachings of his master. The brew’s magic regenerated his flesh as it burned, just enough for him to cling to life. He was left scarred and blackened by the ordeal, while Gharol escaped past him as he writhed in pain.
Fearing Dathragon’s wrath for failing to stop the prisoners’ escape, Craklin fled lreth to nurse his wounds and devise a plan to reclaim his former position of trust. He believed that he could only regain his station by correcting his mistake, and so vowed to track down Gharol and her escapees, infiltrate their ranks, and send word to Dathragon that he would attack them from within when the time to recapture them came. His disfigurements, from both the burns and the magical regeneration, rendered him unrecognizable to Gharol. He played the part of a harmless, bumbling supplicant eager to please. With these dual disguises, none of the Orcs of Gharol’s band saw through his deception.
Craklin approached Gharol’s camp and offered his services as a cook, explaining his burns as the product of his apprenticeship to a chef, and touting his resistance to fire and boiling soup. Internally, he seethed at being forced to accept such a lowly role and debase himself before those who were once in chains before him. Gharol’s commandant accepted Craklin, and was the first to give him that derisive moniker, referring to the crackling sounds his charred skin made when he moved or changed the expression on his face — one more indignity heaped upon the once-proud Ogryn chief.
Mocked and disrespected by all, Craklin remains patient. His triumph will arrive soon enough, and with it, revenge on Gharol and humiliation for those who doubted him.