Recent content by Bruk

Bruk marvelled as the strange flower emerged from the dirt, not with thirsty roots but with legs, very long legs, maybe the longest legs that the orc had ever seen. He hummed with wonderment, which, through the maw of tusks and teeth, transformed into a ponderous grunt. "BRUK SEEZ DIS," he...

Bruk was still. Uncharacteristically so, as the orc stood like a fragrant, grizzled and haphazardly carved statue with a meaty palm held out before him. A generous pile of gathered seeds and nuts sat in his hand, a tempting prize for only the bravest of nature's endless creatures. How long had...

The others didn't need to be told twice, awkwardly pocketing their spoils from earlier games of Rojimba, staring into their drinks to avoid being pulled into the oncoming storm of uncomfortable second-hand cringe. Bruk, meanwhile, attempted to exude a presentable energy towards the terse lady...

"The game's called Rojimba," the gnoll known as Diz began to explain, trying to find any sign of intelligent life within the orc's piggy little eyes. Why was one of them a luminescent shade of red? He wasn't as onboard with allowing strange, savage orcs into their circle, but the power of peer...

"NO! WAT IZ DICE AN' HOW DO BRUK PLAY?!" The orc inquired excitedly at crippling volume, emerging from the tent in all his burly green glory, clearly enamoured by the prospect of making a friend. The man smiled, raising a hand to the brain-damaged lunk, "Ah! Come with me, and I'll show you,"...

Bruk had woken up in a tent. This was quite unusual, as there was no tent when the orc had gone to sleep. However, there had been a large rock that he had decided was a perfectly excellent substitute for a pillow, and it was still there, clutched like a stray cat in a toddler's death grip as...

Upon the side of the road, a beryl bramble bush bristled. Or rather, the Orc inside it did. Bruk, prior to the sudden eruption of chaos had been gently stirred from his late afternoon nap by the grumble of a passing carriage. It had been enough to wake him but not enough to fully rouse...

Nobody ever expected the Bruk hug. Well, I mean, usually they expected something more painful; something more along the lines of snapping bones and crushed lungs, like being murdered by a big fragrant avalanche of gnarled flesh. A fair expectation, the Orc had definitely squashed a few enemies...

As Nature considered his pledge, Bruk made sure to look extra...extra...well, just a bit extra, really. His lower jaw that already protruded, stuck out even more and his great lip that held in jagged and broken tusks trembled. His tiny eyes widened so much that edges of his vision began to cloud...

Upon being granted forgiveness Bruk had to do his very level best to suppress the urge to give a blood-curdling victory roar and so what actually came out of his massive maw was more akin to the growl of a horny bear (which conjured far too much imagery for the Nordenfiir to get their rocks off...

“BRUK NOT BROKEN, BRUK STRONG” he responded, his shout still muffled by a mouthful of grass, leaves and dirt as he continued to lay the way he had landed until she told him otherwise. Gingerly the Orc returned rose to his face, the sheepish expression upon his face stained by the red juice of...

While the furious little ground creature’s temper seemed to cool somewhat she was hardly what could be considered pleasant. Looking down from his position at the top of her head, Bruk’s expression took a turn for the forlorn (who knew that tusks could be sad). However accustomed the Orc may...

It was difficult for Bruk not to get caught up in the joy of 'discovering' (and subsequently devouring) a new species of berry. Others might have perhaps held a sense of caution in regards to the eating of strange fruits, but no, not him, he had a cast-iron stomach and the constitution of a...

The Ixchel Wilds Dawn had arrived, her entrance marked by the song of unseen birds nestled in the treetops and the vague threat of sunlight that would never truly pierce through the thick canopy. There was nothing strange or unusual about it with the cycle of day and night deciding to keep a...

Oddly enough, the liar at the top of the hole had apparently decided that he would join Bruk within it, perhaps his excuse for masquerading as Nature was so strong, and so personal that he needed to join the Orc within his own trap. Or perhaps he was pushed by a song-slinging Halfling. Bruk...