Duradin
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Physical Description: Find all the lore about Duradin here http://thefantasysandbox.boards.net/thread/3400/duradin-homeland-desert-orcs?page=1&scrollTo=88209
Registered: Jan 4, 2019 10:33:49 GMT -8
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Post by Duradin on Jan 6, 2019 9:02:50 GMT -8
Grivnor, Tribe of Desert StridersGrivnor is home to the more savage orcs who believe that strength comes to those who take it. They feud often with the other tribes, usually becoming bandits and thugs in many cities. They cake mud made from the red sands onto their skin to blend in with the desert, making them impossible to see while traveling on foot. Their tribe is nomadic, generally stopping to put tents up around any puddles that appear from time to time to create more of their paints but otherwise remaining in the desert. Chieftain Aeli of Grivnor:  Aeli is the youngest chieftain of the six tribes, having recently succeeded her father Vergash in leading Grivnor. Already she has earned the respect of her clanmates by being one of the most resourceful fighters in their tribe. A true symbol of Grivnor's will, Aeli has already led several successful strikes on traderoutes with her tribe. Grivnor, the Tribe of Desert Striders, wants you to sabotage the Ragmok Tribe, specifically its leader.
After many days of traveling through the mountains you breach into what is known as the Crimson Sea. But contrary to its name, the Sea is void of all signs of water, and only miles of red sand greet your gaze. To gain a better view on the land, you traverse slowly up the side of a dune to its peak, only to discover a large settlement of tents and people. Only these people are orcs, with reddened hides and small tusks, their bodies covered in what can only be described as muck. You are immediately spotted, and in Orcish they shout what you believe to be an alarm. Or greeting, as they approach you without any sign of haste. Confidence rolls off the shoulders of each orc that walks towards you, and suddenly a smaller female joins them. The girl seems comically small in comparison to the tall orcs around her, with only her thick dredds poofing up to even the height difference. But despite this, the woman struts with the same amount of oozing confidence and a hint of savagery. In her hand she loosely carries a spear at her side, using it to gesture at you and in broken Common/English she grunts, “Outsider, why you here?” As you are answering, one of the orcs elbows the girl in the ribs to grab her attention, though she does not wince from the blow. After they exchange a few words in Orcish, the girl returns her orange gaze to you, “Want job? Follow.” Without waiting for your response, the female heads back towards the tents and disappears into the largest one. The other orcs watch you warily as they go back to business, but otherwise ignore your intrusion. It seems you are deemed as no threat to them, and you may choose to accept their job or leave.
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Fabian Korvos
New
Roleplay posts: 4 
Physical Description: Aquiline, beyond that unremarkable.
Clothes and Equipment: Neat, plain.
Registered: Nov 2, 2018 19:46:43 GMT -8
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Post by Fabian Korvos on Jan 6, 2019 19:11:45 GMT -8
To the lands of this 'Grivnor' tribe a lone man wandered. He was relatively tall for a human; just below median for the orcs but brought slightly above it thanks to his hat. His clothing was black leather quite clearly not suited to the desert, but he did not appear to mind very much. His features weren't memorable and to each they may very well be different, only that he was young and 'cavalier' in appearance would be dedicated to mutual memory.
He didn't say a word, and indeed made no motion simply walking along with hands in pockets. He followed the lead of the orcs, not particularly bothering to assign them pronouns because it was so hard to tell with such creatures. For now deciding said job was in his best interests if he indeed heard right, Fabian Korvos head inwards to the same tent to see what the fuss was about.
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Duradin
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Physical Description: Find all the lore about Duradin here http://thefantasysandbox.boards.net/thread/3400/duradin-homeland-desert-orcs?page=1&scrollTo=88209
Registered: Jan 4, 2019 10:33:49 GMT -8
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Post by Duradin on Jan 7, 2019 13:59:33 GMT -8
You pass what seems to be over twenty or so tents of varying size and appearance; many showing to be old and worn from years of use. Many of the desert orcs of this tribe have deep red streaks of mud streaming down their bodies with sweat. Approaching the tent reveals two burly looking orcs leaning against the large tent's structure beams, seeming not to care that they bowed from their weight. Both of them stand upright upon spotting you, their eyes meeting yours with stiff nods of cross-language understanding; they were watching you. But as you passed them, neither made a move against you, remaining silent as you opened the tent flaps to enter.
Your shoes hit a sudden firmness, nearly tripping your foot over the wooden planked flooring. Scattered across it are several squarely cut rugs and carpets collecting sand. As though noticing your gaze on it, a small male orc shuffles towards them and bundles them under his arm. The child scurries past you without a word and a few solid Whomph sounds emit from outside of the tent. When he returns, the rugs are slightly less sand embedded as he tosses them back down. Without ever meeting your gaze, the boy disappears into a second set of tent flaps.
Barely a moment passes when the girl from before appears through the flaps he retreated to, a scroll clutched tightly in her fist. Her spear from before is secured to her back and her afro-sized poof of dredds has been fastened back into a loose ponytail. Underneath the red mud you can see what used to be a decent set of noblewoman's clothing, though it sags on her un-endowed frame. The clothes look almost elven-make, causing you to question their origination. She does not ask your name nor greet you, seeming content with laying out a map in front of you on a grainy table. The markings are foreign to you, but resemble the ring of mountains that make up Duradin. There are four 'X' marks on the map, labeled in Orcish as what you can presume are the names of the tribes.
The female is much shorter than yourself, having to stretch across the table to point at the northern-most 'X' mark, “Ragmok here.” She then drags her blood and sand crusted nail down along the map towards the Western 'X' mark, “Zhura here.” She trails one of her nails along the sketched mountains and taps at an unmarked section of the map to emphasize her point. “Supplies, here.” Her orange eyes meet with yours for a moment to confirm your understanding.
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Fabian Korvos
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Physical Description: Aquiline, beyond that unremarkable.
Clothes and Equipment: Neat, plain.
Registered: Nov 2, 2018 19:46:43 GMT -8
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Post by Fabian Korvos on Jan 7, 2019 17:13:28 GMT -8
A wholly neutral, just somewhat tired expression came about the man as he went across the encampment of the orcs. Fabian gave a curious look at the two heftier orcs and the beams they were leaning on. Truly he wondered if this was an expression of the intelligence quotient of orcs in the fact that they legitimately didn't realize they were damaging the structure or the fact it was an impotent display of prowess easily examined for what it was. But he supposed it must work on other orcs and that's all that mattered.
His examination of the guards and his other surroundings did make the transition to a proper floor somewhat unexpected but he righted his rhythm and pace quite quickly, not missing a beat in front of the brown skinned nomads. The young orc seemed to be carrying something pertinent to his upcoming 'job' and would most likely be moving quite a bit and thus the human didn't bother giving him much attention either, instead looking at his apparent employer.
He did notice the elven cut of the dress, he could think of three or four knife-eared civilizations that had such apparel common to their culture and he could think of many such specimens of all ages that he had disposed of. Wearing it was quite a curious choice, the orc female might have thought it gave a more presentable, civilized appearance but in his humble opinion the man only got the impression of an inferiority complex and subsequent compensation in the more intellectual of the tribes. Pretending to be something you are really not rarely goes down well, and as a Malleus Maleficarum the man knew this first hand. Yet again, he did not comment for he did not want to earn the ire of an upcoming employer particularly with so many guards about. Thus instead the man simply raised an eyebrow as his counterpart gave instructions, and paused a moment examining the map. It was unlikely that the orcs had the map to accurate scale so finding both locations would take some time. But there were more pressing issues that he felt needed raising.
"If am to understand you correctly you wish me to slay an important figure - the leader - of the so called Ragmok tribe. However blame must be placed upon the Zhura tribe, therefore you wish me to obtain supplies that are weapons of all sorts I imagine to help implicate the Zhura tribe. In addition I am to perform the killing from a direction that would finalize the implication of the Zhura tribe, yes?" Telling the truth he was looking forward to using the more primitive weapons of the orcs. Too long had he been using hand-crossbows and falchions and knives and needles and the rest of the lot. Back to the basics would get him back in tune!
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Duradin
Established
Roleplay posts: 12
Physical Description: Find all the lore about Duradin here http://thefantasysandbox.boards.net/thread/3400/duradin-homeland-desert-orcs?page=1&scrollTo=88209
Registered: Jan 4, 2019 10:33:49 GMT -8
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Post by Duradin on Jan 9, 2019 9:55:43 GMT -8
The orc girl stares at your lips for a moment, as though she were comprehending your words through the movement of your mouth rather than the sounds made. After what might feel like a solid minute of silence, the girl shakes her head, though what appears to be a smile creeps her tusken mouth upwards. When she speaks, it sounds as though with approval, “Near.” Though most with a proper sense of the dialect would argue the word to be 'close'.
She leans away from the table, the dress's sleeves sliding down from her shoulders from the motion. With a disgusted snarl, the girl retrieves a dagger from seemingly nowhere and slashes at the billowy sleeves until she is left with a jagged vest cut. Her smile returns, as though alleviated in some way, “Zhura shamans,” she gestures upwards as though to emphasize, though it may have been in exaggeration or sarcasm, “Big honor, Great Elders.” One may have detected an equivalent of orc eye rolling from the girl before she continues, “Zhura chieftain Orva, balance, not war.”
The girl begins to pace, her bare feet scuffing across the carpets, “Vorgon cruel, not dumb. He know, not Zhura.” Her energy is almost palpable, as though the subject spurred her into motion, “You destroy supplies. Weaken Ragmok, tribe upset. Turn on Vorgon.” She then crosses the room and pulls out a chest, carrying it over and plopping it down on top of a good portion of the map. Opening it she reveals many salted meats and non-perishable foods necessary for desert survival. “Grivnor help, Vorgon unfit, then Aeli two chieftains.” Her tusken grin has become zany, her orange eyes wide with excitement as she stares at you. “Vorgon not killed. Worse. Dishonored. Exiled. Gone.”
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Fabian Korvos
New
Roleplay posts: 4
Physical Description: Aquiline, beyond that unremarkable.
Clothes and Equipment: Neat, plain.
Registered: Nov 2, 2018 19:46:43 GMT -8
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Post by Fabian Korvos on Jan 13, 2019 13:54:34 GMT -8
Throughout the entirety of the orc's speech Fabios remained motionless, only a look of curious interest about him as she spoke. The rather poor attempt at common that could easily pass for its own dialect took quite some time for Fabios to truly figure out, and almost a minute of silence would pass as the man simply stood in contemplation. Just as one would feel prompted to ask the man if he was daydreaming or not his expression shifted ever so slightly with previously interested eyebrows lowering. It seemed his first take was not quite right, and things were not to be as interesting as he had hoped but it was nevertheless an act for his vocation.
At last he spoke with a nod, gaze upon the map. "Very well. If and when I return, I shall provide you with a list of tasks I had to perform in carrying out this order so you may be aware of the recompense I require." With that he tapped the brim of his cap in a semi-salute before stepping out of the tent, and going on to the lands he would attack the supplies as they were called.
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