- Messages
- 13
- Character Biography
- Link
Gravemark had learned how to live beside monsters.
Not by fighting them. By watching them first.
The town crouched beneath The Spine, its walls layered with repairs and older scars. Every stone set by hands that understood the cost of misjudgement. Snow packed the streets. Hard and gray with ash and foot traffic while torches burned low against the coming night.
Urzak entered through the eastern gate without ceremony.
He brought no warband. Only a handful of orcs were at his back. Enough to be seen but not enough to threaten.
Conversation shifted as he passed. Some voices lowered. Others fell quiet entirely. Guards watched from the walls but did not bar his way. They were content to let the town itself decide what to make of him.
Urzak moved slowly, deliberately, letting Gravemark reveal itself.
He listened to the rhythm of the place. Merchants arguing over tolls, mercenaries negotiating for rooms and travelers trading rumors for warmth. Fear was present but it was tempered. Shaped by experience rather than panic.
That mattered.
In the market square Urzak paused near a knot of armed travelers and hired blades gathered around a brazier. Different races, different armor and none of them new to the Spine. They noticed him immediately hands shifting but not drawing.
He did not challenge them. Instead he spoke plainly.
"Hard country. Hard work, guarding roads that don't care who dies on them."
A simple statement. Not a demand.
The fire cracked and hissed between them as the wind carried his words outward to nearby stalls, to listening guards and to anyone close enough to pretend they weren't paying attention.
"I'm here to understand how people survive places like this. Who they trust. What they'll endure and what they won't."
His gaze moved across the square, not lingering or pressing, open enough to invite response.
Those who wished could answer.
Those who didn't could listen.
Either way Gravemark had been given the chance to speak for itself.
And Urzak would hear what it said.
Not by fighting them. By watching them first.
The town crouched beneath The Spine, its walls layered with repairs and older scars. Every stone set by hands that understood the cost of misjudgement. Snow packed the streets. Hard and gray with ash and foot traffic while torches burned low against the coming night.
Urzak entered through the eastern gate without ceremony.
He brought no warband. Only a handful of orcs were at his back. Enough to be seen but not enough to threaten.
Conversation shifted as he passed. Some voices lowered. Others fell quiet entirely. Guards watched from the walls but did not bar his way. They were content to let the town itself decide what to make of him.
Urzak moved slowly, deliberately, letting Gravemark reveal itself.
He listened to the rhythm of the place. Merchants arguing over tolls, mercenaries negotiating for rooms and travelers trading rumors for warmth. Fear was present but it was tempered. Shaped by experience rather than panic.
That mattered.
In the market square Urzak paused near a knot of armed travelers and hired blades gathered around a brazier. Different races, different armor and none of them new to the Spine. They noticed him immediately hands shifting but not drawing.
He did not challenge them. Instead he spoke plainly.
"Hard country. Hard work, guarding roads that don't care who dies on them."
A simple statement. Not a demand.
The fire cracked and hissed between them as the wind carried his words outward to nearby stalls, to listening guards and to anyone close enough to pretend they weren't paying attention.
"I'm here to understand how people survive places like this. Who they trust. What they'll endure and what they won't."
His gaze moved across the square, not lingering or pressing, open enough to invite response.
Those who wished could answer.
Those who didn't could listen.
Either way Gravemark had been given the chance to speak for itself.
And Urzak would hear what it said.
