Orcs of The Wildlands

The People and Their Customs

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The man and woman walked along side the simple two wheeled naugha cart. The tarpaulin covering their belongings was securely lashed, the yoke and harness properly oiled. They seemed well seasoned travelers. Their rustic clothing of homespun cloth and leather, dusty and travel worn, was sturdy and well made.

Two longlegged hunting hounds loped ahead, tireless and alert. Short, whistled commands kept them from straying. A ferocious looking pit dog kept pace with his master, never leaving his side. His massive, scarred head might as well have been glued to the man's thigh. The heavy spiked collar needed no leash.

The man was of average build, but the trophy belt at his waist told of his fighting prowess. Among the goblin scalps and tabor fangs was a green dragon scale. His weighty mace seemed almost an extension of his sinewy arm. His fighting abilities wouldn't be questioned by anyone who understood the significance of that dragon scale on his trophy belt.

The woman was young, hardly more than a girl. Her hair was worn loose, flowing over her shoulders unconfined by braids or ties. She had no rings on her ears but wore a fine brass and stone pendant around her neck. Proud and confident, her head held high, she handled the bullwhip controlling the naugha with practiced ease.

As they approached the gates of Haefen, Hurok, pit master at the Murky Brew Tavern, stepped out. Right fist raised in greeting, he hailed, "Well met, Garn. Follow me. Gretda awaits. She will be pleased to see Frieda. A fine woman your dotter has grown to."

The Orcish travelers pass through the sturdy wooden gates into Haefen. Their long journey from the Wild Lands over, they have come to Altoria hoping for a new start.



Social Structure


Current Status

The Legend of Borophus and Lialu

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