Orc Who Finds a Friend
brightly shining bonfire illuminates an otherwise dark village in the night. The
village is one of many that dot the vast and barren landscape of the wastelands
in Dalberak. Loud drums and song alike can be heard for miles. A gathering of
orcs dances and celebrates together around the great fire. Smiles light up
every face. The singing grows louder and more triumphant as the night
continues. Children run around giggling, singing, and playing together. A large
orc rubs his rounded belly up and down, tongue sticking out, as he waits
earnestly for the great pig above the fire to finish roasting.
Slowly and gradually the noise dies down. A
frail and slender orc limps his way to the fire, hunched over with old age. He
dresses in torn brown rags, not so different from the other orcs save for the
long white beard dangling from his face. The others go silent and settle down
as they seat themselves on the carved stones that circle the fire.
Grotuk', a young orc boy, counts himself
among the first to be seated. Even after eleven years of life, repeating the
same tradition, this day remains his favorite of the week. On this day the orcs
of the village gather together around the fire to keep alive the spirit of
fellowship and family. They sing, they dance, and they enjoy a feast together.
Then the shaman gathers them together to worship and to reflect on nature and
the spirits thereof. This village like many is led by a shaman, and not a
chieftain. They pride themselves in staying separate from the mainstream
politics of larger towns and strongholds in the nation. They thrive on the
timeless tradition and sacred beliefs of all orckind, and proudly keep them
The shaman opens his mouth to speak on
nature, the spirits, and the gods. Though the music has long died down, in the
beauty of the shaman's words Grotuk' hears a song of its own.