[DemonicSpeed]

A young orc, once part of a tribe. Living greatly among each other, looting, plundering, camping and hunting. Much happened upon the tribe, they would fight for what they most liked, even to the point of killing. Weakness was not tolerable, most had to prove their strength in battle, as a young child. Many survived, but those who did not were shamed, and shunned. One night a gathering had occurred, to split the plunder, and to drink ale for the most recent pillaging of a tiefling village. Times were great, ale was chugged, and a bonfire, warmed the orcs for the cold night.
Breezes blew and winds roared, the bonfire barely alive, and the party had settled, now only the scouts stayed awake to keep eye on the camp as the orcs slept through the night. The night in pitch black, of darkness, all seemed normal. A set of small footprints were faintly heard, not by those who slept, but from scouts. They tried to spot what caused the faint sounds, but could not see from the darkness, which was thought to be the night.
Quieter and quieter it got as the darkness got darker and darker, it appeared that a spell of darkness had be summoned over the whole camp. But who? Who attacked this temporary camp? The camp was always moving, how did they find the camp?
Out of the darkness, the shape of a tiefling was formed.  Seeking revenge of the destruction of it's village. It quietly killed the scouts that were blindly on watch, ridding of their bodies, before anyone could sense the suspicious smell of corpses. And by tent to tent it killed the different tribe members, leaving their bodies to rot. There and there only in the family tent, the small orc was laying, restlessly under his blankets, where he watched, as his family was killed. The only thing that he had knew, was that the doer of the murder, was a tiefling, that wore no shoes. He memorized the feet, trying to find where and who this tiefling was.
Years past, and the small orc found nothing, but the words of a supposed tiefling criminalized in society of the Human town of Hadrian, by the name Pheroth. He searched for such, not finding him there when he could be, until he had settled down in Sulivan's Port where he drinks, eats and sleeps in the inn, at his common table. Knowing that the tiefling was killed, enraging his personal anger for them, but done in the same place that he stays.
Now, he hunts vile creatures, and every once in a while, collects the toes of the fallen enemies, of tiefling origin, putting it onto his necklace, as a trophy.