NakhuKhan

Warleader Nakrosh  rode at the head of the hunting party as it returned homeward laden with meat. There was a slight smile upon his face that belied his fierce reputation as a taker of lives. He was a simple orc who found contentment in simple things and while his warband was small, this suited him just fine. He had no desire to command hundreds of warriors or dabble in clan politics. It was enough for him that his reputation as a warrior had garnered him great respect among the Warsong Clan and  that his followers and their families thrived. Truly the Ancestors smiled upon him.

Sure, over the last couple months his warband had suffered some ill luck. First, he and his mate, Yesui, had nearly been crushed by a freak rock slide as...

Dokholkhu Skullcleaver lounged upon his fur-draped cushions on the raised dais of the massive timber and stone hall in which he held court. As he drank the fermented wolf’s milk he favored, he smiled as he watched his warriors in revelry, celebrating a successful foray against an ogrish incursion into Warsong lands. He glanced at the empty cushions beside him and wished his mate was here to enjoy the merrymaking with him, but Chakka was absent from the night’s festivities. They had quarreled again over their wayward daughter, Yesui, and Chakha was brooding in their sleeping quarters. Dokholkhu was a feared warrior and cunning strategist who had earned his surname on battlefields the length and breadth of Nagrand, but now his brows...