The Orc Hunter

Morc surveyed his tract of woods. He stood on the Bristleback, a ridge on the eastern border of his land. He could see far beyond his own forest from the craggy height. Morc's hard-callused fist gripped his hunting spear more tightly. His old fingers joints creaked and popped, as his brow lowered.

A small group of travelers was making their way towards his woods. He lived by himself and like it that way. He hunted, he fished, and he kept to well away from others. The orcs of the woods had learnt to keep their distance. It had taken much blood for them to realize that’s how it should be.

Others still needed to learn clearly. With a grunt he left his vantage, going over the many trap and snares he had laid. Morc was off on the hunt.

Morc

An old orc, Morc long ago left his tribe in search of solitude. He found it, in a few dozen acres of woodland. Here he has hunted and lived for many years. The natural ferocity of his kind is not found in this hunter, but he will defend his peace and solitude if required. Credit: T G Newman