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Into the forgotten ruins you carefully tred, your Orc Cleaver grasped tight in your barbaric fist. The wind whips through the walls, cold and ruthless.
While there might be old traps and the danger of frostbite, you continue with no hint of fear. You are a brave northern warrior, and you’ve come to hunt down the elusive winter stag now hiding within these walls. You will slay it with your sword and bring it home to your people.
War is all that you know. For your clan, war is a permanent state of being. Just as you need meat to sustain you and leather armour to protect your leathery green skin, war keeps your thirst for chaos and violence sated.
Your clan now gathers to prepare for the war against the goblins. The creatures used to be your allies, but in the last battle they became cowardly and ran. Now there is nothing more to be done than to hunt down every one of them and serve them over your fire.
The Beastial Orc was never civilised. Whilst their green skinned cousins managed to form something of a society, there remained the wild ones. Baarely able to speak the black tongue, with no concept of anything other than kill or be killed, they were banished to the far flung edges of the world: The arctic, the darkest jungles and the deepest caves.