Reginald Ort, as a baby, was accidentally purchased in a garage sale by a Knight of Darkness along with a mixed lot of used weaponry, cursed farming implements, and Isaac Hayes LPs. The Knight didn’t even notice that Ort was tucked into one of the boxes until a week later, when the hungry baby resorted to chewing on "Hot Buttered Soul" for sustenance. The Knight raised Ort as a servant, feeding him on leftover gnome juice and sandwich crusts until Ort was large enough to go to college.
Which of course he didn't. (Even the Knight didn't go to college; he was still finding himself, spending a gap year or six in the world.) Ort had, in point of fact, no formal schooling or instruction whatsoever. The Knight didn’t feel like actually teaching Ort how to do anything, so simply used daily doses of mind control to get the servant to do whatever chores needed doing. As a result the hapless Ort is about as insightful as a rutabaga. He does, however, think that whatever you’re doing is the best thing ever, and can he carry that tray for you? Please?
