Hi, I’m Chukk, the Daisy. At least that’s what Smuj calls me. I’m not a real daisy, just a cheap bronze knockoff, but Smuj can’t, well, function in any kind of society without me. And for Kord’s sake, don’t tell him I’m not real. Trust me on that. See, when Smuj was very young, his mum, the orc of the pair (yeah, papa was either drunk, passed out, or worse), gave me to him. I was just a crappy little trinket stolen off some ugly little wanna-be princess whose travel party wandered a little too close to Smuj’s hovel. He was so enamored by me that he never took me off his shirt, or make-shift necklace, or whatever I could be pinned to.
So understand this: Smuj is fairly intelligent, but a bit loony. He can’t talk unless it’s through me. Mind you, I’m not a magical item at all (a talking daisy, don’t look too far into that), just a crutch for a mad half-orc. Without me, he’s incommunicable, which makes him very irate and uncontrollable. Hey, you would be too if you “magically” lost your ability to speak.
Smuj’s parents are dead. Well, I think they’re dead. His papa was never there, being human and pretty much unable to live in orc territory. Perhaps he never survived the mating. Who knows, mum is the only thing Smuj knew. Not long after he got me, his mum left. Smuj was left to fend for himself. Maybe that’s why he needs me, empty cave syndrome and all. Anyway, Smuj pretty much taught himself what he needed to know to survive. His weapon skills were a combination of spying on humans in battle and using wooden mock-ups of axes and swords to beat the tar out of tree stumps and wandering warthogs.
At some points in his life, Smuj has lost me and gone berserk, only to find me again and resume life. One of these times was near a human outpost of some sort. Smuj was observing a duel of some sort between two pompously dressed human males, and they spotted him peeking from a bush. They caught him, tied him up in a shack used for storing old armor and weaponry, and beat him unmercifully. They even used him as a sparring dummy. Then they saw me, peeking out from a rag I was hidden in. They took met from him and tossed me around like a shuttlecock on Badminton Day. He lost it. He broke his bonds, slaughtered the two pomps, and retrieved me from the wreckage. After calming down, he burgled what he could carry and ran off.
Smuj doesn’t really have a home now. He carries what he owns, and forages for the rest. He takes shelter in caves, under trees and overhangs, and, rarely, abandoned buildings. He’s a good guy, orc, half-orc, whatever. His moral compass seems to be pointed in the general direction of goodness. It’s society that has a problem with him. Orcs think he’s not orc enough, and humans are untrusting and mean. Mostly, he doesn’t mind though. He’s got me.
