By Timothy Crumrine

Garik shaded his eyes as he looked out the door flap of his home and into the brightening morning sky. With a soundless yawn that briefly revealed his sharp yellowed tusks he stepped out into the city. In an unconscious motion, his arm reached out and grasped the leather harness that housed his battleaxe and slung it across his back as he crossed the threshold of his home and the ceremonial safety it represented. Around him a pack of children ran, playing a game with a rag stuffed ball that seemed to have no rules, or at least none that weren't changed from one instance to the next. One of the bigger of the pack, a full five feet tall at only two years of age, paused and charged the warrior with a happy grin and howling a mock challenge into the sky. Garik opened his mouth and returned the howl, a seldom seen smile on his stern features before being head butted in the chest by the exuberant youth. Garik's powerful legs flexed as the child struggled to push forward, and in reward to the youth's efforts, he slid back a few inches in the soft earth before Garik grasped the boy in a massive bear hug and swung him from side to side growling in mock ferocity.

"Garik'ar!" the boy laughed happily. "You have returned again!"

Setting the boy down, Garik playfully tousled the mass of black braids on his nephew's head.

"You haven't been to see mother yet." The boy said in a tone of reproach, "You always go to see mother when you return."

The warrior had the decency to look chastised.

"I returned only last night Orm'ar." He replied with a laugh. "I doubt even my own mother would have wanted to be awakened at that hour to know I was home." The commotion the two had made had caused no small amount of noise and it was then that Garik found himself swarmed with little arms clutching at his pant legs.

"Garik'ar! Garik'ar!" a set of voices chanted excitedly. Bending down, he scooped up his little nieces and perched them one in each massive shoulder. The twins gave happy shrieks of delight at being up so high and clutched his war braids for balance. He paid little notice to the minor pain of pulled hair, as it only served to remind him that he was once more with his family. Laying a hand on the shoulder of his nephew he nodded his head.

"Let's go see your mother now." The entourage made their slow way through the streets of the city, past the adobe and wood households towards the market. "I understand I have a new nephew to meet as well." Garik commented to Orm as he bounced the girls on his shoulders.

"That's right!" Orm said in realization. "You haven't met the little one yet." Garik nodded at his nephew's comment.

"So he hasn't been named yet then." He surmised. Orm shook his head and sighed.

"He's only few weeks old." The boy said. The warrior nodded to himself. He almost had made it in time then. Changing the subject to himself like most young adults prefer, Orm looked at his uncle with pride. "I'm almost finished with my weapon!" he said excitedly, "If I finish it in time, the priests say I can join the warriors the next full moon!" He beamed with happiness, looking for approval from his uncle. Garik paused for only a moment in his strides, the only outward reaction to this news.

"And what do your parents say?" he asked. Immediately Orm's face grew downcast.

"They say I should wait a year, be sure that I want the warrior's life." He said bitterly. A small spark of anger smoldered in his eyes. "Father says I should think of learning the forge and staying here with them." He looked at Garik hotly. "But I don't want to be stuck here tending the broken swords and spears of the warriors like him! I want to spill the blood of Elves and Dwarves and paint their spirits within my weapon like you!" Mindful of the twins still perched on his back, Garik couldn't reply how he wished with Orm, to tell him how he felt about the boy's father, and what he regretted.

"We will talk later." was all he said as they neared the forge and home to his sister's family. From under the sheets of metal that covered the forging area like an awning came Umar, Orm's father and husband to Garik's sister. Covered from head to toe in soot, the blacksmith was clad in a light cotton shirt and trousers, with a heavy leather apron to protect him. Despite the early morning chill, Umar was covered in a sheen of sweat, and the red glow of the forge warmed them all as they approached. A hearty smile shone white through the black of Umar's face as Garik raised a hand in greeting. Setting down the twins, Garik clasped his brother-in-law's hand happily and drew him in for a rib creaking hug. Despite the fact Umar was not a warrior, the years at the forge had made him as corded with muscle as Garik, and he was only a few inches shorter in height. Like all small children, the twins wasted no time in beginning to chase one another in front of the home. Garik shook his head. "I don't suppose with another one here you want to give me the twins?" he joked. Umar laughed.

"Of all my treasures within my home, those two gems you cannot have Garik'ar." He said. "And where have you been this morning that you found this sorry beggar to tag along with you?" He asked Orm. The boy glared sulkily at his father and moved to enter the house without a word. Garik saw the almost tangible blow to Umar at his son's reaction and wordlessly placed a hand on the smith's shoulder. When the smith looked up, the corners of his eyes were their proper color, the soot washed away by the tears he had blinked back. "He's at that age." Umar tried to rationalize, both to himself and Garik. "The priests keep coming, every day now with the little one not named yet." He looked apologetic at his brother-in-law. "One's in there right now, and they want him as a warrior Garik'ar. The baby's only an excuse to visit so they can fill up his mind every day with promises of glory."

"How is she?" Garik asked suddenly. Umar blinked at the abrupt change in topics and was temporarily derailed. But he recovered quickly, understanding Garik's concerns.

"She is well Garik'ar," he assured the warrior, "There weren't any problems this time. I think the boy will take after his mother." Garik nodded in relief.

"The priests are coming often then?" Garik asked, picking up the conversation now that his fears had been put to a mild rest. As if in answer to his question the flap of the doorway to the house opened and out stepped an old high priest clad in blood red robes. Behind him, like an eager puppy, stood Orm holding a seven foot long spear with a thick rune engraved shaft. Having cleared the doorway, the priest turned and was handed the spear by Garik's nephew who looked as if he was serving their god personally. Knowing the priests as he did, Garik suspected that was exactly what they had took the youth. Both Garik and Umar lowered their eyes respectfully as the priest walked past them, his spear keeping cadence for his steps as it struck the earth. Only when he had passed well beyond them did they dare raise their gazes again.

"Every day they come." The smith spat into the dust at his feet. "The stars are not right for a naming." He gestured at the sky with one hand in parody. "Foreboding signs have been seen, a naming cannot take place." He stared at the back of the far retreating priest. "I know what they want. They want my son to swear his blood to Him!" He looked at Garik with the forge fires alight in his eyes. "They won't get him though Garik'ar, I swear that!"

"Umar'ar, do not say such things!" Garik hissed softly, looking around for any who may have overheard. "Their are many that have been brought to the altars for speaking less." Umar's body seemed to slump slightly in resignation and he turned to walk back into his forge. Idly he poked the slats of metal that were heating in the coals and shifted them to newer positions.

"I don't fear them." He finally said. "I can forge iron, dwarven steel, even the elf metal. I'm too valuable to them. They pretend not to hear me as long as I continue to forge their weapons and armor." He looked at Garik again in fury. "That's why they want Orm. They think I've shared the secrets I know with him. If they have him then they don't need me with my 'blasphemous' comments any longer."

He picked up a smithing hammer that had lain in a special alcove of the tool rack. It was of the finest steel and engraved with the runic language of the dwarves. Umar never used the tool to craft a weapon or armor, only to forge items for his family or friends, gifts that aided their lives or gave them joy. Cooking knives, gardening tools, a wrought iron hanging garden for his wife's herb plants, all these came from the skill of his hands through this one special hammer.

In his youth, Umar had traveled with his own father who had been a priest to the camps of the warriors acting as his attendant. They had waged a battle against a dwarven city that day and Umar had fallen among the wounded. Discovered by the enemy, he had expected a swift end to his life at the hand of a dwarven blade but instead one of the dwarves had taken pity on him and brought him within to their city. The dwarf had taken numerous insults, taunts, and ridicule in this act of mercy, all of which seemed to roll off his shoulders without care, even the threats of violence some of his kinsmen threw at him. It had seemed so alien to Umar that he had not understood at the time the true character of his savior.

Over time the Umar and the dwarf had exchanged stories, learning much about the other's races. Umar had learned that the dwarves were not demons of greed as the priests had claimed, instead possessing a spirit of family and hearth quite similar to his own. He learned that while the dwarves revered their own gods, they did not cower under the thumb of the priesthood. The dwarf learned much in turn about the lives of Umar's people, their families and the oppressing pall they lived under. The dwarf had taught him the arts of the forge, an act that had almost caused his banishment from the city. Though only for a year, it was enough for Umar's skill to far outstrip any other Orc smith of the city. Eventually the old dwarf had set him back on the road towards his home with this hammer and an oath to never use it to forge an item for war. The last words of his benefactor had been a warning, 'The strongest chains are those we willingly forge for ourselves.'

Umar returned and set up shop. His father, now a high priest, had called his son's return a miracle from Him and sent the warriors to his forge for weapons. Umar had done his duty to the god and the priests but to this day, he never forgot what he had learned from the hand of a merciful enemy. Garik's sister had married him soon after he returned and that was when Garik had first met the man he most admired, his brother-in-law. Setting down the hammer reverently, Umar turned to a corner of the forge that held a workbench.

"Let me show you something."

He reached down and picked up something that had been leaning against the bench. Setting it on the tabletop, Umar stepped aside and allowed Garik an unrestricted view. The axe on the table was crafted from bone and stone, a tribute that honored their distant ancestors, but the shape and style was unmistakable. Without a word Garik reached behind him and extracted the weapon he wore, laying it on the table beside the first. Garik's weapon shined with a faint blue light, a byproduct of the enchantment held within it's blade, and the weapon's haft was crafted from a branch of ironwood and reinforced with steel and brass, but each symbol, every line and curve of the weapon, even the characters that he himself had painted on the wood with ochre had been painstakingly reproduced by a young hand. Garik picked up the crude imitation and hefted it with one hand. The balance was not right for a weapon, but the ones for the warrior's trial never were. In all it was a fair weapon to bear as a youth entering the trials. He turned the blade over in his hand and saw that the weapon's other side was only half completed. Etching in stone took time and patience; a misplaced strike could fracture the axe head and force the crafter to begin again.

"Orm'ar's weapon." Garik concluded unhappily. With a sigh he set the weapon back against the side of the table and retrieved his own. He glanced down at the faint ragged scar on his arm that he had inflicted on himself the night he had taken the trials. The day he had sworn his blood to the priests and their race's god. The sheer primal frenzy that accompanies that night leaves little room for thought of family or friends. It was always a personal note of grim humor that he, the so called greatest of the city's warriors, wanted nothing of that life to taint his nephew.

"He does good work." Umar noted. "He has the smithing talent." Garik nodded glumly as Umar gripped his shoulder and looked at him with pleading eyes. "Talk to him Garik'ar, he doesn't listen to me anymore." The warrior had to swallow once before replying.

"I'll try." He said and left the forge to see his sister. Entering through the doorway that led from the forge to the kitchen, he unslung his axe and harness and hung it on the peg just within. The twins had been using dyes to paint on the wood and had painted an ill proportioned giant with his name in blocky letters next to his customary spot. Despite his troubled thoughts, Garik felt a warmth as he entered the house and once more saw his sister. She was dressed in a simple brown skirt and a loose blouse that would allow her to easily feed the newborn she wore in a sling across one shoulder, leaving the baby near her heartbeat and sleeping peacefully. Short by the standards of their race, she had always seemed to Garik as too petite to be having children, especially when their kind often had multiple births or large bodies. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with a few wisps hanging rebelliously in front of her face causing her to blow at them in irritation as she washed the morning dishes. Not wishing to startle her or the baby, Garik cleared his throat softly. She turned and looked back at him, her eyes brightening in happiness.

"Garik'ar!" she said softly and came over to embrace him. The awkwardness of maneuvering her arms around him without waking the child meant that she only managed to get a single arm around his head for a kiss on the cheek however.

"Shasha'ar" he smiled. "How is my favorite sister?" he sat down on a stool as she gingerly sat beside him.

"I'm your only sister you big bear." She teased, poking his arm with a finger. "I'm fine," she said. "Just a little tired." At her breast the baby gurgled softly and waved an arm in his sleep. "Your new nephew is fine as well." With a soft finger she gently stroked the silky fine wisps of black hair that stood up on his scalp. "And still a little sore. He may not look it, but this little one is a kicker."

"Are you sure?" Garik asked anxiously. "If you still hurt maybe you should..." Shasha held up a hand quieting hand.

"I've seen Jana the old woman down the street. She's had thirty seven children of her own and birthed about a thousand or so more as a midwife. She says I'm fine and I believe her." She shifted position slightly and touched her side. "Although I think I'll take up her offer on that tea. I'm done being pregnant for at least a few years; I don't care what the priests say about pregnancy being a blessing. If they want more of us bred, they can pray for a spell to make men pregnant for a change." Garik looked puzzled.
"What has tea got to do with pregnancy?" he asked. Shasha looked at him and her eyes came back into focus. Apparently her musing hadn't been intended.

"I shouldn't have said that," she whispered, looking around the room almost guiltily. "But I don't want to be with child for awhile. There are only two ways to do that." She gestured to the doorway that led to the bedrooms of the family. "The first is that Umar builds a separate room for me to sleep in." She looked at Garik without enthusiasm. "That wouldn't be good; Umar and I both like to keep each other 'warm' at night." She glanced at her brother and gave a soft bark of laughter. "Garik'ar your blushing!" she exclaimed. "Anyway that could bring the attention of the priesthood on us as well with the 'sacred duty' of women." She uttered in farcically ceremonial tones. "The second way is for me to have a nice hot mug of tea every morning and the priesthood can't say a word to us. If they think we're not trying the neighbors can vouch for us." She said sweetly. "Again Garik'ar?" she said in disbelief as she looked at him.

"This tea makes you sterile?" he asked, ignoring his heated cheeks. She shook her head.
"No," she clarified. "More like it tricks the body into thinking I already am so I can't become so. That's why I have to drink it each morning. If I stop I become fertile again." She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially to him. "You are now probably one of a handful of males who know about this so don't blow it for us or you will have to face the wraith of the whole city's woman." Her face told him it wasn't a joke. "The priesthood would love to find out why the birth rate has gone down in the past few years. This is why."

"Which is why the priests are so eager to get any boy they can into the warriors clan." He mused Shasha nodded sadly.

"That one mothers have been trying to stop for ages Garik'ar, and we haven't found an answer to it yet." She said mournfully. "Umar showed you?" she asked. He nodded wordlessly. "He idolizes you Garik'ar," she said, a mixture of regret and pride. "You are everything his father isn't."

"To which I am envious and grateful for." He said darkly. "I'm glad his father isn't gone every turning of the moon, that he is here to see his children grow and takes the time to sit with them beside the fire at night and tell them stories. I thank the Forbidden Ones every day your family isn't sitting with an empty chair at the meal table and that Umar uses his hands to create instead of destroy like I do!" he growled. The baby, disturbed by his sudden outburst awoke and began to cry. Shasha wrapped her arms around the infant and began to coo at him, rocking the child slowly. Garik stood instantly, shame and apology pouring out of his mouth in a babbling tangle.

"Shh, shh." Shasha crooned to the infant. The baby pinched his face in crankiness at being awoken and slowly quieted down. Looking at her brother and his helpless antics she almost laughter aloud. "Oh sit down you big bear." She chastised. "Babies cry. It's a fact of life, you didn't kill him or anything." She looked at him as he sat down again. "Do you want to hold him now that he's awake?"

"He's to small Shasha'ar," Garik protested. "I'd break him with these giant hands of mine." She gave a knowing smile and moved over to his side. Despite his protests she placed the child in his arms and rewrapped the blankets that had been kicked off by the baby's fuss. "There," she said. "Now Uncle Garik'ar can meet his new nephew." She stood and stretched. "And I can finally not have him weighing me down for awhile." She made her way over to the washtub and picked up a wet rag to remove the kettle from the stove. Pouring in fresh hot water she continued her washing as she watched him play with her new son. "You'll be staying for dinner right Garik'ar?" she asked. Preoccupied with the a game of 'Oh no, he's got my finger' the warrior didn't hear her. "Garik'ar?" she said a little louder. He looked up at her. "Dinner? Tonight?" she repeated.

"Yes," he said. "Of course. Thank you." He replied, turning his attention back to his nephew who was proudly displaying the fact he had five fingers for his uncle. She smiled at their actions and looked at the table where the family took their meals. A chair at the head for Umar, one at the foot for Shasha, and along the sides were places for the twins, Orm, and now a new chair for the baby. All of them were worn, polished by hands and bodies over the years. But there was one chair that looked almost new. A chair that sat at the table every mealtime and only was filled a handful of times.

"There is an empty chair Garik'ar." She whispered, feeling slightly sad at that moment. "I hope you understand that someday." She looked back at the members of her family as the two of them played and the feeling faded somewhat as she watched them together.

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In reading the above it is obvious that the race of Garik and his family are not human. Never the less, they still have some of the values and traits of an intelligent species that allows them to become sympathetic and entertaining. Would it surprise any of you readers to know that the excerpt of life above belongs to an Orc warrior about his visit to his family? To some this may seem impossible. The Orcs as they are described in the Monster Manual are not described as being loyal to or valuing family and friends. They are a race that borders on a barbarous lifestyle, with crude weaponry and armor, with little or no true culture revealed. Gruumish, their primary God, is mentioned and references are made to a tribal hierarchy, but a true core of racial understanding is lacking. Since the beginning of D&D, and the subsequent d20 system many years later, the fictitious race of the Orcs has been a constant, if minor threat to PCs and I believe it is time for a change.

The first thing that always bothered me about the Orc race is their threat level. These creatures were always toted as being the bane of the Elven race, their eternal foe. Yin and Yang, they were always described as the counter to the Elves, a stance taken from J.R.R. Tolken's Lord of the Rings. In fact, some scholars of the series claim that Tolken created the word 'Orc' as a word in his Elven language of Sindrin to refer to the goblin races of Middle Earth and therefore the Orcs in d20 system are a nonexistent race. These great threats to the Elven host, warriors who spill the blood of Elf, Dwarf and Man, these who are bane to the forces of Good, are dispatched with minor difficult by a beginning level warrior and scythed through by PCs in their mid levels? The options of a DM to grant individual monster Orcs class levels not withstanding, there is little to warrant this great fear. Most times when I have seen the Orcs thrown against a party it is in a Banzai wave, hoping to bleed hit points and spells through sheer numbers so that the real bad guys can have an edge. Orcs are used as cannon fodder, not adversaries. This mindless butchery of throwing rank after rank at the party in hopes of winning through attrition is even one of the main focal points to R. A. Salvatore's latest novel The Lone Drow. It was because of this limited vision that I first began to redesign the Orc race into the variant listed here. My Orcs are a little more fleshed out in terms of lifestyle, culture, customs, and also are a little more of a threat to players.

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The first thing to know about any race is their origin. The origin of a race will most often set the basic framework for a GM to look back on when trying to determine how the race will act in a given situation. The origin of my Orcs comes twofold. The first is similar to the accepted traditional Orc origin. Gruumish, their patron god, in a battle with Corallon Larathian the god of the elves, bled from his wounds into the earth below. From this blood the race of Orcs was born. However this origin is only the start. The divine nature of Gruumish's blood was enough to grant life and spawn the Orc race, but as they were an accident in creation without any planning they were savage, warlike, crude and destructive. Gruumish watched as they butchered themselves and the races around them and was amused at their antics. This gave birth to the Orcs listed in the Monster Manual. Another power was intrigued by the Orc race however, and he is the second part of their origin. A powerful mage who's name has been lost in time desired an army to protect his lands and to wage war on his rivals. Rather than try to create a new magical race or recruit warriors who might turn on him in the future, he chose instead to take an existing race and change them.

The natural strength and ferocity of the Orcs were just what he was looking for. While the last surviving clans of Orcs were being destroyed by the elements of winter and their own infighting, he rescued a few hundred and took them to the caverns beneath his keep. There, over a period of several years he began experimenting on their bodies, using untested magics to alter their minds and sculpt their forms into what they are today. He magically changed the bodies of the females to accelerate the birthing process and increase the number of offspring. He taught them language and craft skills as well as tactical warfare. The mage birthed the Orc race anew into an army of almost unstoppable might, a race of warriors, but also a race of slaves. History has shown time and time again that when a race is enslaved, they often turn to religion for some small comfort, and that is what happened with the Orc race. The shamans of the Orc race turned into a full formed priesthood over the years of captivity, bringing with them the hope of freedom from their master. The Orcs felt within themselves that they had somehow failed Gruumish and were being punished, an attitude nurtured by the priests as they slowly gained power within the race. Eventually the mage's ambition proved to be too much and he was destroyed by a group of rivals in a cataclysmic spell duel.

Suddenly free of his oppressive yolk, the Orcs came to the surface for the first time in their new forms. Now firmly in power and with no rivals, the priesthood of Gruumish wasted no time in establishing themselves as the new ruling force. Magicians, physical embodiments of the one who enslaved them, were declared an abomination to be slain upon discovery. To speak against Gruumish or his priests was heresy and punished with sacrificial death. Stone altars dedicated to Gruumish were erected and the priests offered blood tribute to their god. The warrior clan, the remains of the army of the mage, was declared a holy calling by the priests and soon its ranks were swelled by the faithful. However their new freedom opened the doorways for many new problems to plague them. The alterations of the mage were permanent, and the race continued to grow in population, only kept marginally in check by the massive amount of sacrifices performed by the priesthood and the huge body count tallied during raids. The Orc people needed more farmable land and food sources to feed themselves, causing a constant need for raids on neighboring villages and cities. Dwelling underground had caused the need for augmentation to their eyes by the mage and since it was not natural evolution, the effect continued even generations later causing discomfort in sunlight and a temporary blindness during morning hours. Ancient discord with the elven and dwarven races flared again as the Orc race began logging heavily in elven forests to meet the need for fuel and building supplies and began raiding mines for workable iron ore. The priesthood declared the dwarves to be demons of greed, unwilling to share or trade with the Orcs due to their avarice ways and the elves as untrustworthy assassins, killing from a distance and practicing magic. The priesthood swore that the elves, if given the chance, would use this magic to again enslave the Orc race and make them fight the elves battles for them. Seemingly surrounded on all sides by enemies, the Orc race fled to the barren mountain regions of the world where no other race laid claim and built their cities there. Still unable to completely feed themselves, they must continue to raid for food from their neighbors thus gaining the notoriety they now possess. Recently there has been a small amount of the population who are beginning to distrust the theocracy that leads them. Though tiny, they are slowly growing in number. Whether this marks a future change in the government structure of the Orc race or perhaps a splintering of the race into subraces is unclear at this time.

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Personality: Orcs breed rapidly. The gestation period for an Orc baby is only five months and multiple births of twins, triplets and sometimes quadruplets happen about 20% of the time. A newborn will grow to young adulthood in only three years at which point both male and female sexes are fully capable of breeding. Because of the priest's influence, the Orc population had been conditioned to believe that the duty of the female is to breed and the duty of the male is to fight. Like other intelligent races they have no set cycle for breeding and can procreate the year round. The average lifespan of an Orc, baring accident, is around forty years, priests sometimes reaching twice that through magic. Like humans, males can father children until they die, but females are only fertile until around their thirtieth year. Old age does not show on an Orc, they remain fit and healthy until their death with only the priests showing any sign of age, and that normally being only a graying of their hair. Orcs bond with their chosen partners just as other races do in a ceremony that is the equivalent of marriage and raise families. Due to the high death toll of their race however, widowhood is given a wave by most priests and a widow may remarry immediately upon the cremation of their husband. This is not to say that most Orc women do not choose to have a period of mourning, sometimes lasting the entirety of their lives, but if they wish, they may remarry without any social stigma. Those that join the warrior clan often do not marry or marry late in their lifetimes to spare their wife that grieving. The priesthood also ordains willing females to travel with the warrior clan on raids to fulfill their sacred duty and bear the children of unmarried warriors and is as close to female priests as the race allows.

Orcs do not keep slaves. This of course stems from the fact that they were once slaves themselves for an unnumbered count of generations. Prisoners are sometimes taken in battle, but often the frenzy of the raid causes this thought to be lost during battle. On the other hand, Orcs also do not employ other races to work for them. The amount of population and their own stubborn pride give them the work force needed to make this unnecessary. Asking for work or offering help to an Orc is a grave insult that is only slowly being understood by the race as often being unintentional. Within the family unit, everyone takes part in the labors of the household as soon as they are old enough to do so. Even youths in their second year, when they are in their equivalent of their teens never think about shirking their chores except under the angriest of fights with their parents. Families are split in living situations. Those that live in outlying farmlands tend to have several generations in one household, all of them working a large farm or ranch from children to great great great grandparents. Within the city families tend to be only the parents and children with grandparents occasionally but the family members still visit one another on a regular basis and tend to live close by.

Orc communities are divided into the normal occupations with tradesmen, farmers, bakers, smiths, and other necessary professions all fully in presence and their social currency lies somewhere between straight barter and a monetary system. Goods and services are often straight out bartered for, but are just as likely to be paid for in coins or looted items such as jewelry or artwork. The exception to this is the priesthood. A priest may request any goods or service and receive them without repayment. The compensation is not being hauled to the altars and given to Gruumish which often leaves a bitter taste in the mouths of smiths and leather workers who are commanded to ignore other paying work to outfit or repair the equipment of the warrior clan.

Physical Description: Orcs range in height from 5 ½ to 7 feet with the common height of males at 6'3" and females at an even 6 feet. Both sexes possess green skin that ranges in shades from forest green to a much darker tone that is almost black in appearance. The Orc males possess tusks set in their lower jaw that normally protrude a fraction of an inch from the lips when the mouth is closed. These tusks are like rodent teeth, continuing to grow throughout the Orc's life and are normally worn down through the act of eating. Yellow, yellow-green, brown, and hazel are the most often seen eye colors with yellow and yellow-green being the most common. Other colors seen have included sky blue, red, light purple, and black with no visible pupil. These are rare and normally herald the Orc's significance in some other way. Hair color on the other hand is almost always black with the rare exception of brown and the even rarer blond appearing only occasionally in a generation. Hair style for both sexes is normally long and at least a portion of the hair worn in braids. Both male and female at their maturity are muscular in appearance with well defined legs and arms but after pregnancy the female begins to take on a more voluptuous appearance in the hips and bosom though this does not cause them to lose their battle strength. For those of you in the U.S. think of the female pro wrestler Chyna.

Attire is normally made of leather with softer woven cloth as padding on the inner layers. Homespun wool dyed with clay or plant pulp and then embroidered with flaxen thread is used for dresses and winter attire with fur added for additional warmth. Boots are crafted from sturdy leather and are worn by both sexes to protect the feet from the rocky environment where the Orcs live. Warriors primarily wear armor crafted from leather with steel reinforcements (Studded Leather) which is often heavily tooled with intricate designs though some of the higher warriors wear scale mail or plundered armor manufactured by other races if it will fit. It is rare to see a suit of plate armor that was made specifically for an Orc, but still not unheard of. Warriors prefer the battle axe or hand axe as a weapon because it is more versatile when spending months out on raids. Swords are uncommon and always crafted by some other race and each warrior carries at least one dagger, dirk, or knife that serves as a utility blade as often as a weapon. Spears are considered sacred and only wielded by the priesthood. They are long battle spears with thick shafts that are not designed for throwing. The fighting technique for them is similar to staff fighting with a few more thrusting variations added to the mix. Weapons are made of standard grade steel; the priests' spears are forged from iron, and then enchanted to the strength fine steel by the priests. Upon entering the warrior clan, youths must first craft a weapon for themselves to use in battle. Symbolically this weapon is crafted from stone, wood and bone to honor the Orcs' ancestors as the youth follows in the footsteps of their race's forefathers. This weapon is normally replaced with either a captured weapon from the battlefield or an Orc forged one upon returning home after the youth's first raid, however, if the priests feel that he did not show true commitment to Gruumish during his first raid, I.E. the youth did not hurl himself into battle or show the fanatical energy that is often stirred up the night before the battle by the priests, he may be denied full acceptance into the clan until he proves himself.

Relations: Orcs as a general race do not get along well with any other race. Their aggressive attitudes as well as the constant raiding of the warrior clan have almost irreparably destroyed any goodwill that could have been forged between any other races. Any group of Orcs encountered will immediately encounter distrust and hostility even under the most tolerant of times. Solo individuals may still be able to find and forge friendships with other individuals however. Orcs are cross fertile with both the Human and Elven races and Half orcs are a constant occurrence. Half orcs tend to follow their Orc parent and are warriors by nature. Elven Half orcs are rare and tend to seem like Wild Elves in their actions and primitive personality. There are no records of a Dwarven Half orc existing, but do to the Orc's magically enhanced procreation; it cannot be ruled out as an impossibility.

Alignment: Like the Human race, Orcs run the gamut of the alignment based on personal choices and experiences. The normal alignment of a priest of Gruumish is Neutral Evil as their personal desires for power make them more self centered than the rest. The most common alignment for the Warrior clan is Lawful Neutral with Evil tendencies as they tend to obey the priesthood and follow orders. During battle the blood lust rises and their more vicious and cruel natures resurface. The common Orc's alignment would be Lawful Neutral without the tendency of Evil except under extreme circumstances. Barbarian classed Orcs must still be Chaotic, but they still obey the priesthood with a Lawful based attitude.

Orc Lands: The hostility presented at all times to the Orc race by the other races has driven them into areas that normally are not the first choice for habitation. The high rocky hills and mountains of the world are the dominant terrains in which the Orcs now dwell. Though these areas possess some fertile land for growing food the acreage available is scant in comparison to their population. The Orc race must continue to raid villages and surrounding lands for food to feed themselves. As a result of their magical alteration, the Orc physiology makes them omnivores and also capable, if necessary, to safely consume food that is undercooked or even slightly spoiled with no detrimental effects. Though the normal Orc in no way prefers their food to be this way, the general belief is that it's better than starving. As a result of their homelands, they have become proficient stone masons, and tend to build cities that are set recessed within the cliff sides with the majority of the building being hollowed out within the mountain itself, though some set in the sparse farmable lands are constructed of adobe and stone like normal towns and cities.

Religion: This is the big one. Of all things in the Orc culture this is the item that touches almost everything they do. The most important thing to remember about the Orcs is that the priesthood is in power and they rule with a ruthless and bloody hand. Daily the altars in the temples run red with blood as the priests sacrifice those Orcs who have somehow failed them in some way. The excuse to drag a victim to the altar is often times so flimsy that the mockery of a trial is often bypassed entirely. Similar to the Spanish Inquisition, the priesthood knows that they are in power here and while the lower priests may still believe in serving Gruumish, the inner circle of High Priests don't think twice about skimming a heavy layer of cream off for themselves. In fact, if you took the Spanish Inquisition and added a healthy dose of the Aztec priesthood into the mix you would come pretty close to the Orcs. The fanaticism of the race has been ingrained to the point that only a few openly speak against the priesthood for fear that their neighbors may turn them in as heretics however, this does not prevent the often subdued but still present vocal complaints that are uttered within the safety of their own home.

Language: The general belief that the Orc language is crude and inferior to any other tongue is not entirely accurate. The Orc language is a very subtle and complex art where the tones and sounds that accompany the sentence are used to express emotion or significance. Most non Orcs who learn it speak the language crudely by the standards of the race, with only the basic ideas getting through in their utterance. A few, normally language scholars, do learn the entirety of the language and are deemed fluent. This is shown by the Orc language requiring two Speak Language skills, One for Orc (Basic), and one for Orc (Advanced). A character may only learn the first and communicate with Orcs easily enough, but learning both transforms the language from crude to a tongue as intricate as Elven or Dwarven. The Orc written language on the other hand is very crude. The extensive time in slavery that the race suffered included a forbiddance of writing. History, stories, and lineage were passed down through oral tradition. Even now after so many generations of freedom, the Orc's written language only depicts the most basic of concepts thus strengthening the belief of oratory crudity. Most noticeable about the spoken Orc tongue is their tendency to add syllables to names or items, the most common being 'ar' which denotes a family member or deep affection to the individual. Adding 'ar' to a name means that you are held close in the heart like a brother or sister should be and is considered a high compliment if used outside of the family. This suffix is only used when addressing the individual however, not when referring to them in a conversation with another person. The same suffix added to a place means it is a place of comfort to them with the same feelings of sanctuary that their own home provides. This use is always in effect during any reference to the place made by the individual. Using 'ar' on an item is something that only the young tend to do which denotes affection for the item such as a favorite stuffed toy. Using 'ar' in this way as an adult is normally viewed by others as very strange behavior.

Names: Names within the Orc race are the same as with humans. Orcs do not tend to use surnames however. A naming ceremony performed by the priesthood is held normally within the first week of birth, but can be delayed for as long as a month. Until this ceremony takes place, it is considered unlucky to call the child by the name chosen by the parents. The common reference to Orc names by bards or warriors such as Lorec 'Elfkiller' or Harg 'Many Arrows' is actually a reference to nicknames given to warriors by their clansmen and are not official names at all. Common names among the Orcs for males are Garik, Larric, Dar, Vorra, and Jhagga. Common names for females include Shasha, Crea, Misha, and Halldyn. Name should sound close to human but with a slightly more primal twist to them.

Adventurers: Full blooded Orc adventurers are rare. Often a half Orc will be mistaken for or try to pass themselves off as full blooded, and unfortunately tend to add to the race's bad reputation. Those that do exist fall into one of two categories. The first are those that are still loyal to and obey the priesthood and the God they serve. These adventurers tend to be of the warrior clan and are predominantly Fighter class characters. If encountered singularly, it is most likely that they are on some quest given to them by the priesthood and will not be willing to engage in any actions that sidetrack that quest. At best they will stay with the party for a few adventurers, but will soon have conflict with the party's goals. The second type are those that have either self exiled or been forced to flee their homes for a myriad of reasons. These adventurers may be wizards that fled for their lives, youths who failed their initiation into the warrior clan, or Orcs that have angered the priesthood in some way and fled before their neighbors turned them into the eager arms of the altar priests. Of the two the second will be more common and easier to interact with in a party situation.

Orc Racial Traits
· +1 to Str and Con, -1 to Wis and Cha: Orcs have been engineered to be hearty and strong, but also to be susceptible to a command structure and willing to obey orders. Their general reputation has also caused other races to distrust Orcs on sight.
· Medium Sized: As Medium sized creatures, Orcs have no special bonuses or penalties due to their size.
· Base Speed for an Orc is 30 feet.
· Night Vision: Orcs have the same low-light vision as the elves allowing them to see twice the distance of a human in dim lighting conditions.
· Blood Rage: Orc's naturally possess an ability to continue to fight after being reduced to 0 hit points. This ability occurs unconsciously and works as follows. For every round that the Orc is at negative hit points the GM rolls a d10 representing -1 through -10. If the number rolled is higher than the number the Orc is currently at (I know that -10 is technically lower than -1 but for the ease of phrasing) then they can continue to fight. At the end of combat itself, the GM rolls a Fortitude save for the Orc with a -2 penalty. If the save fails, the Orc dies as the adrenaline wears off.
· Weapon Proficiency: Orcs possess proficiency in all Simple and Martial weapons naturally regardless of class. Any Orc who is a member of the Warrior Clan also has proficiency in the Orc Double Axe.
· Magical Biology: All Orcs possess Damage Resistance at the value of 1/- due to their magically augmented flesh and muscle structure. They also receive a +1 bonus to all Fortitude saves vs. any type of poison.
· Favored Class: Barbarian. Though not as primitive as some depict the barbarian to be, Orcs still gravitate towards the sheer primal power of the class. Other classes favored include the Fighter class and Ranger class. Lesser used professions are the Thief class and strangely the Bard class though an Orc bard is more like a skald of Norse history, a teller of tales around the campfires and a singer without accompaniment of instrument. Orc bards are a more combat leaning rough and tumble group than the common bard. Even fewer in number are the priests and the least used classes are the sorcerer and wizard, a calling that must remain secret or the Orc faces certain death at the hands of their own kindred.