Despite what some might insist, not every half orc child is the product of an unwilling human mother. Vik, his older brothers, and his younger sister were born in a seaside city by the union of Hagrush and Melissa Phelan. The former was an outcast and a pugilist of some renown, the latter a cobbler as her father and mother before her. Though not without hardship and controversy, theirs was a loving relationship with few troubles.
At least not marital ones. Money was always tight in such a large family, and by the time little Opal was born they had been stretched pretty thin indeed. Hagrush participated in backalley brawls for coin whenever he could, setting a precedent that his three sons would eventually follow in their own way. He died not long after Vik turned seventeen, finally taken down by a half-ogre foreigner, and the three were forced to delay their morning to come up with a plan to support their mother and sister.
They started small, taking bets on cockfights down by the wharfs. While Mik and Rik provided the brawn with their thicker orcish blood, Vik used his considerable talents as a showman to rile up onlookers and keep the crowds entertained between fights. Eventually it turned to dog fighting, and more exotic fare when shipments came in from far off lands. Vik grew accustomed to the feel of a whip in one hand and a net in the other, keeping the wild beasts at each other's throats instead of those of the audience.
But even he had his limits. Though they were making more than enough to keep the family afloat, his brothers had gotten caught up in the glory and gold of their little fighting racket. When Vik caught wind that they were bringing slaves into the mix, he damn near tore their heads off with words alone. He threatened to take his mother and sister away for even contemplating such a thing, the pain of losing a father to such fights still fresh in his memory after several long years.
A costly mistake, and one that he has yet to live down. Though bound by blood that was no light threat to make, and the two beat him down and tossed him out on his rear end. Orc blood, no matter how thin, always runs red hot, and they promised worse if he dared to show his face in town again.
Vik took his things from the house and ran, avoiding his mother and sister out of shame and weakness. He's been on the road ever since, aimless and looking for something he cannot quite put a name to. The man has grown much since those days, though still rough around the edges. Returning home is not a journey he looks forward to. Thankfully for him, and there's always another convenient distraction or perilous quest to keep his mind off such things, for better or for worse.