As always, another excerpt....
You raise your eyebrow as you stand in front of the group of orcs. Leading them is Rolzagir, who gives a slight cocky smirk when he sees you.
"You see, Nolazir," he says, "I've brought an army of my own."
Some of the orcs behind him look confused, clearly unaware that he is joking.
"Looks like I'll have to pack up and go home then," you say.
Rolazgir slips to your side as the rest of the orcs make their way into camp.
"Not exactly the most experienced groups I could round up," he says, "but with some training, I think they could do just fine."
As you watch the orcs, you realize that many of them are pretty young. Rolzagir points out some of the orcs from your tribe, and some from all the others.
"The little tribe on the mountain must be struggling," he says.
"Why is that?"
"Well, we only have four newcomers from there," Rolzagir gestures to four young orcs ahead of you.
One of the orcs turns to you, his assorted leather and mail armor clinking. Although he is young, his hair is already starting to take the form of a widow's peak, and his unusually green eyes burn with an intensity not seen in many orcs. He just lets his long raven black hair flow free.
This young orc crosses his arms and scowls at you and Rolzagir.
"Who the hell are you?"
You wrinkle your nose, and Rolzagir's mouth pops open a bit. He may be standoffish to you at times, but he at least shows respect.
"This is the great chief, Nolzair you're talking to boy," he says, "I would show a little bit more respect."
The young orc scoffs, and almost turns away.
"You'd better shape up before I visit your little mountain tribe and show them how worthless you fools are."
The young orc glares at Rolzagir and is about to say something when you step forward.
"Alright, relax now," you say, "now I'm interested in who you are. So tell me, who are you?"
The orc points his thumb to himself.
"My name is Droza, and these are my brothers, Galagar and Kalig."
The other two orcs nod, you can see that Galagar is slightly younger than Droza. Unlike his brother, he does not have any sign of a widow's peak. He seems to prefer keeping his hair tied back. His eyes are a deep brown, and show a calmness, much greater than his brother. One slightly chipped tooth protrudes from his lower lip.
Galagar smiles, very warmly.
"Name's Galagar, nice to meet ya."
You nod at the orc, before turning to the next one. This one seems to be the youngest of the bunch, the armor he clearly stole from someone looking very loose.
"Uh, I'm Kalig," he says with a goofy smirk, "the brains of this group."
Kalig's hair only forms a very slight widows peak, and flows free just like Droza's. His eyes are a mix of green and brown, and show a youthful determination. Two teeth protrude from his lower lip, each in good condition. His eyebrows arch a little bit, unlike the other two, whose eyebrows seem kind of flat.
"And how old are you, Kalig?"
Droza seems annoyed and steps in to answer.
"He is fifteen," he says, "no reason he can't stick around."
As you shift your gaze, you can almost see Kalig break. Rolzagir's face lights up for a moment.
"Oh right, you’re the runt we found tailing us," he says, "this one is barely fourteen years old. A bit too young to be joining a war party."
"We caught him not too long ago," Droza says, "and since we were almost here, didn't want to send him back."
You chuckle at this.
"You seem determined, kid," you say, "don't go and get yourself killed out there now. A lot of orcs do."
You notice the fourth orc, standing off to the side. You furrow your brow for a moment, the young orc looks familiar for some reason.
He is shorter than the rest, but much broader. His black hair runs wildly from his head. Around his eyes are two dark spots, although in his eyes you can see great potential. He has two, small teeth jutting out from his lower lip. His chin is pointed, and his jaw strong. It works well with his somewhat hawk like nose, making him look like a fearsome foe.
"My name is Grolikar," he says in a serious tone, "while I'm not from the mountain tribe, I may as well be."
"Where are you from, then?" you ask.
"I guess I'm just a child of orcin," he says, "born from the waters and raised by the kindness of others."
"Hmm, how poetic," Rolzagir says with a slight sneer. The young orc just ignores him.
Rolzagir sighs.
"I suppose while I'm training orcs," he says, "I mind as well add you fools to the mix."
Droza just turns and walks away, while Galagar seems happy with this, and Kalig perhaps too excited. Grolikar just nods and wanders over to the camp with the rest of the orcs.
You bid these new orcs farewell for now, and go with Rolzagir to organize the orcish army once again.