Wilbur James Morgoroth
By the ripe, plump, moist and skull-crushing age of 2, Wilbur’s parents, Arnold Palmer Morgoroth and Kava Duringard recognized the potential in their son to someday rise to be a great and noble warrior. By the age of 4, the word noble was forgotten. Always with a penchant for getting in trouble, young Wilbur often found himself in many a precarious situation – at age 4, Wilbur ran into the woods outside of town, search parties were formed, but Wilbur returned after 8 hours, riding atop a dazed-looking wolf. At age 5, on one notable occasion, Wilbur could be found in a Griffin’s nest, dressed in a griffin costume from Prok-lov’s trick shop. When the mother returned to feed her young, Wilbur opened his mouth and, as the mother came close, moved in and kissed her right on the beak.
The black minotaur cloak that Wilbur James wears was gained at age 4. On a dare with close childhood friend Brakka, Wilbur sneaked up behind the minotaur and jumped on its back, wrestling it to the ground and strangling it. In return, Brakka had to stop making fun of Wilbur’s ridiculous fucking name.
Wilbur’s early teens carried the same type of mischief that he was known for as a child. The only noticeable difference was in public opinion. Wilbur quickly ascended from being known as “that douchebag thieving little fuck” to “the most shit-kickingest hardass around.” Wilbur James Morgoroth carries that title well. Real fucking well.
At age 14, Wilbur’s parents Arnold Palmer and Kava were murdered in a raid by adherents of Orcus. The cult members sought Wilbur’s white and gold scales as a sacrament to the Prince of the Undead. Arnold Palmer and Kava managed to kill many of the raiding party, but fell in the heat of battle. Wilbur struck down their leader with his father’s falchion and fled into the mountains. From that point on, Wilbur swore allegiance to the Raven Queen – Orcus’ sworn enemy. He began adventuring and serving in her name, seeking to bring down those who would try to turn fate.
Life as a wandering agent of the Raven Queen left Wilbur with a sense of purpose. He developed the necessary skills and contacts to survive in the wild and to strike down adherents of Orcus anywhere. While making a particularly dangerous traverse through a mountain valley, in pursuance of a Orcus priest, Wilbur fell and suffered some severe injuries. Fortunately, a racially diverse band of Avengers, also subjects of the Raven Queen, had been following the priest as well, and came across Wilbur, who was bloodied but still super badass. They took him back to their temple and healed him. He spent the next 3 years studying their ancient scrolls, training his combat skills, and getting laid.
At age 20, then, Wilbur left the temple carrying only a pack, his symbol of the Raven Queen (a gold raven’s head with emerald eyes, about the size of Wilbur’s fist; sized because the Raven Queen, just like Wilbur’s fists, fuck shit up regularly) and his father’s falchion. Wilbur proceeded to fuck shit up all over. Once or twice, when money was thin, Wilbur took work as nude model. He could have ridden the wave to superstar status, but abandoned the opportunities, as they limited his chances to fuck up even more shit.