Draklan

Draklan Snarg is the leader of the Clan Pickaxe, a cunning and resourceful orc with a strong sense of responsibility, a keen wit and claws that can turn the average human into a novelty pyjama case in a matter of moments. He possesses a speed and strength that his small frame might not suggest; but the fact of his having emerged from the statutory chieftainship brawls without the need of several months' expensive bridgework, first against Rab and then against Ogrokh, should act as an ample demonstration. Few who have come up against those two can say the same. He also has a distinct cruel streak, but generally only when someone is really, really asking for it.

His adoptive father found him as an orcling in the woods ouside their home in L'arynjita, when he had to answer the call of nature on his way back from work. As well as the basket and blanket he came packaged in, the young Draklan was accompanied by one, admittedly hopelessly obscure, clue as to his origins - a dagger, made entirely from diamond. The mystery of his apparent abandonment, coupled with an interest in matters historical instilled by his mother's encouragement to read lots, has frequently led to his going on an extended wander in an effort to learn more about who he actually is, and about the Firste Worlde in general. So far he hasn't come remotely close to finding out where he came from, but has acquired a considerable library of different literature, the four orcs who, along with himself and the ever-loyal Ogrokh, form the body of his diminuitive tribe, and an absolutely fantastic recipe for cheese and bacon soufflé.

There are a great many secrets to Mr. Snarg, including the reason why he looks so different to his compatriots; but, ha ha, that would be telling, wouldn't it? Suffice to say, there's rather more to him than meets the eye...

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