Jorgel Rykuh

Overview
Jorgel Rykuh is a 22 year old half Dwarf, half Elf who dwells in Port Solanaria, Bardonia in Rathnir. He is the founder of Beetriaty, a cult-like religion around beetroots and cannibalism.

Appearance
Jorgel's most notable features are his vibrant blood-red coloured eyes and pointed elven ears. He has pale skin and short black hair and stands at 5'7/1.7 metres tall even with his dwarven heritage. He typically wears pale red robes and a darker red shirt and pants with a dark red cloak over his shoulders and covering his lower face. Jorgel's obsession with the colour red allegedly stemmed from his love of the taste of beetroots and blood.

As a child he reportedly had brown eyes, but around the age of 22 his eyes took on their new colour.

Personality
As a child Jorgel was peaceful and care-free, he had little to worry about as he spent most of his days farming and learning things with his father. In his adolescence he often helped out with small jobs in his local community: delivering drinks for parties and hauling building materials and crops. But his laid-back happy way of life was not permanent.

After the death (and what Jorgel believed to be the murder) of his father, his only family, Jorgel's view of the world grew bitter. Jorgel's grief would turn to rage and in the back of his mind he always had a lust for blood. But to those close to him he still showed compassion and he learned to control his thirst for vengeance and only unleashed it on those who wronged him.

Family
Jorgel's only known family was his alleged biological father, Hipps Rykuh. His mother is not known but Jorgel's genetics suggest she was an elf with black hair. Jorgel is unmarried and has no children.

Alone in the Depths
Hipps raised Jorgel for most of his younger years. He taught him the Tuberite way of life and frequently educated him on the history of Jorgel's town and nation. When Jorgel was older, Hipps took him to the town well for what Jorgel assumed was another history lesson. Jorgel was told to jump down and that Hipps would follow behind him, and he did as he was told though not completely sure why. He swam downwards in the well towards the light that shimmered at the bottom. That must be what Hipps was trying to show him. But the light from the torches in the caves below were blown out with what resembled a gust of wind and the caves were plummeted into darkness.

Taste of Blood
Jorgel threw himself out of the water into the complete darkness gasping for breath. He lay on his back soaking wet somewhere in Solanum's catacombs, and the dim red torches around him slowly glowed back to life. A rotten smell spread throughout the tunnels that Jorgel could not help but gag on as he got back to his feet. His blurred vision returned to normal, and he saw the hellhole he had fallen into. Chains hung from the ceiling and stains of blood painted the walls. He held back from throwing up at his grotesque surroundings until, amidst the stench, he smelt a pleasant smell, a smell he'd never known before. He instinctively followed the smell despite everything his surroundings told him, making his way down the stone corridors, as he did so fearing what on earth had happened in the catacombs. Eventually he found the room which the smell came from, the floor had puddles of blood, and most disturbingly, an almost fresh looking severed head staring straight at Jorgel. His heart froze for a moment, if it hadn't been for the entrancing scent he wouldn't have took a step closer, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He turned his eyes to a large cauldron, bubbling at the back of the room. A rich red mixture boiled away inside and a steam with an irresistible aroma was coming out. He approached the cauldron and dipped his hands inside it, scooping out the soup in his cupped hands.

Hesitantly, he sipped the mixture. It was nothing like he'd tasted before. He looked down at the pot and noted its ingredients; it contained beetroots, a vegetable forbidden in the town because of religious Tuberites who saw it as heretical and it also had a meaty and metallic taste to it. He could observe bones floating in the stew and he knew that he had likely just eaten a human, but did not care. The taste was too compelling to refuse.

Then as he drooled over the cauldron, a face floated to the top of the mixture, and Jorgel jerked backwards. Shaking, he watched as a humanoid figure crawled out of the cauldron...

He sprinted out of the room down the maze of tunnels in the catacombs screaming out for his father. Eventually he managed to find the exit to the well and frantically swam out and ran home dripping wet. A day later, his father was found dead in the catacombs.

Vengeful Descent
Jorgel stood on the white sand of Solanum's shores staring out to the night with the other townsfolk. The sky and sea were a deep black, and floating on the still surface of the water was a small ship blazing alight. It was a quiet night; the people watched silently with only the sound of the gentle waves and slow crackling of the fire heard throughout the town. But inside Jorgel's head, his grief and rage screamed loud as ever.

His father who taught him and raised him for 22 years now lay in a fiery coffin because of Jorgel's cowardice. Because Jorgel ran away on that night. But Jorgel had no time to keep blaming himself; he turned his rage on what killed his father with its own two hands. He made his mind up fast, rushed home after the funeral and took his shield and kukri. He took one last breath and plunged himself back into the town well.

He trod cautiously around the tunnels, prepared at each corner to face his target. He slowly made his way to the cauldron room, creaking open the large wooden door again. He watched the cauldron with his guard up, waiting for the figure to emerge, but nothing happened. Growing impatient, he walked up to the cauldron, raising his kukri and blindly stabbing down into the mixture but he didn't seem to hit anything. His frustration boiled and he grabbed onto the cauldron to tip it over to be sure it was void of the creature, he pulled hard but the cauldron and its contents were heavy. Eventually the cauldron gave way, but after all Jorgel's effort he lost his footing and he fell under the cauldron as all of the mixture inside spilled over him. He writhed and squirmed in the searing hot mixture, groaning with agony. It ran into his mouth and burned in his eyes and let out cries of pain. But Jorgel started to hear other cries of despair amongst his own; the screams of women and children blared in his ears. Then images flickered before his eyes, visions of the slaughtering of all kinds of people in what looked like his home town. Images too vivid to not be real.

He laid on his back covered in red, exhausted and confused beyond belief at what was happening. But something had flickered in the back of his mind as he sat up and looked at the severed head in the corner of the room with the words "help us" still echoing in his ears and the images of a massacre still burnt into his eyes.

Blood and Beetroot
Jorgel swallowed back the mixture that had gotten into his mouth and closed his eyes. He sat still for a moment before his period of recovery was interrupted by a singular voice in his head which spoke to him.

"Through Blood and Beetroot, they can all be saved," it echoed.

Cannibal Cultist
Jorgel knew that the revelation he had had was not a result of some bad stew. No, everything he saw and heard was real, something out there was trying to talk to him. Something much bigger than he.