The long-time owner of the marginally-successful Graghnokt's Squig-Based Skin Lotions, Rut-Thord Graghnokt is that most unusual of orcs; one apparently capable of running a business. A particularly ruthless business, mind you; few customers are initially enthusiastic about squirting vaguely-identified squishy goo onto their skin, purchased from a yellow-fanged, musclebound orc wearing a shop apron and showing extremely suspicious stains of all colors on his hands and arms. Yet, somehow, Rut-Thord has managed to build his business, at least in part due to a series of decidedly fortunate deaths on the part of his competitors in the skin-care market.

His son, Bruk-Thord Graghnokt, has helped out his father with the business since he was barely bigger than a snotling, performing a variety of tasks including shouting out slogans on the street, assisting with squig wrangling (a strength-building exercise), and serving as test subject for new preparations his father comes up with.

Despite the experimental nature of many of these compounds, Bruk-Thord has absolutely perfect skin (by orc standards): gleaming, green, tough, and flawless. His hands are as soft as a baby's. (Well, a baby that has been repeatedly chafed with pumice-stone for months, building up a thick scabby callous. Which is still much softer than typical for an orc.)

"Soft-Hands" Graghnokt is big, strong, and not very bright. Spotted by a bloodbowl scout while he was orchandling two uncooperative (razor-fanged, rabid, insane) squigs at once in a pen outside his father's manufactory, Graghnokt the younger may prove to be a particularly talented find; if you can wrestle two squigs into submission at once, hanging on to a bloodbowl ball while several armored dwarfs beat you about the head with brass knuckles is child's-play.

As a bonus, the young lad's father may be interested in a sponsorship deal with the Brunchmunchers.