9th Sandstone, 101 (mid-Autumn)

CptCrunchy sat by the smoking remains of a lynx bone table. As tribe scribe, he took his duties very seriously. While he insisted that to properly account for the tribe’s possessions he needed a better dining room, and living quaters, and study, and maybe a few trophies, he knew all of those would come in time. But for now, he had rolled by the sleve of his cotton fibre shirt to best show off his scars to their new guests.

His left forearm bears a massive straight scar. His right hand bears a massive curving scar. His right foot bears a very long straight scar. His third toe, right foot, is gone.

Right now he was trying to catch the eye of the Uruk that had arrived with the band out of the wilderness. She was a rare sight to behold; most uruk rippled with muscle, but this one was lithe and moved with uncanny grace and agility. It’s clear she didn’t have the raw strength of Vyctryx, but lithe for an uruk is still strong for an orc.

“Hey there, how you doing?” asked CptCrunchy, revealing a toothy grin.

“Fine,” she responded distractedly. She was lightly dusted in ash, and was wielding with ease a heavy steel hill-orc choppa, swinging the enormous weapon about with a single hand. It made CptCrunchy’s heart leap; and the rest of him, too, as she buried it in a smouldering stump next to his chair. “It looks like you could use some assistance here.”

“Uh, yes. As scribe I am responsible for coordinating all new arrivals. You certainly seem very skilled at what you do… Name?”

“GnarFengYur.”

“Birth omen?”

All taiga orcs had a birth omen. Some believed they foretold what the young orc would become, and in many camps they were used as commonly as the names orcs were given by their parents, or chose for themselves.

“It’s… uh… i.. im.. im…”

“It’s Immoral Wood!” came a delighted cry from behind GnarFengYur.

“Aunt Talthra!” cried GnarFengYur, visibly uncomfortable, “I thought you were lost. What are you doing in the wilderness?”

“Seeking glory” responded Talthra with a mischievous smile, making double-quote signs in the air with her fingers. “Same as you, I’m guessing. But first, let’s let CptCrunchy here that hilarious story about your birth omen.”

“Yes please,” responded Crunchy, “when it comes to immoral wood, I’m all ears…”