Open Chronicles Horn and Hearth (ORCS)

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Khurash

The Warrior
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It was sundown by the time Khurash strode into camp. He could not recall where he was, somewhere east of Alliria but west of the spine.

This camp was like many that sprung up along the roads, a motley collection of tents, with the largest in the center, offering some shelter from the elements while the fires offered protection from wild beasts.

Khurash strode into the biggest tent, which was an orcish ale tent. Warriors and travelers, mostly green brethren, crowded the wooden chairs and tables, drinking heartily from horns of ale while playing games of chance or contests of strength. Their raucous voices washed over him and though he recognized no faces, he felt at home.

“Keeper!” He bellowed loud enough to be heard by many to the orc behind a counter, stacks of barrels in the background. “Pour me a horn of your finest. Tonight I dine in fine company.”

Those who heard thumped their tables in approval.

This was the way.
 
  • Orc
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