Orc
Fierce, enduring, and deeply rooted in the rhythm of the land, Orcs are a people forged in both hardship and triumph. They are often misunderstood—seen by outsiders as brutes or raiders—but such depictions fall woefully short of capturing the depth and legacy of orcish culture. To be an Orc in Aigusyl is to walk with the echoes of one’s ancestors, to carry strength not as a weapon, but as a sacred duty.
Orcs are tall and broad, with powerful builds shaped by generations of physical toil and strife. Their skin ranges from ashen gray and forest green to earthen brown and deep slate blue, reflecting the regions from which their clans hail. Tusks rise from their lower jaws, symbols of vitality and adulthood, often carved, capped, or adorned to mark achievements. Their eyes gleam with purpose—amber, copper, and crimson hues hinting at the fire that stokes their souls.
They are a people of tribes and extended kinships, valuing community above conquest. Each clan is a living story, woven from the deeds of its elders and the promises of its youth. Oral tradition dominates orcish life; their lore is sung beside fire pits, etched into stone totems, or painted in sprawling murals on canyon walls and earthen halls. Every orc learns early that strength is meaningless without honor, and that to defend one’s people is the highest virtue.
Long ago, orcs were scattered by calamity and persecution—some say driven from their homelands by Celestial wars, others by ancient beasts long since buried. As a result, orcish cultures have diverged widely. In the Crimson Sands, orcs ride sandstriders beneath a searing sun, forging steel from skyfallen ore. In the Eldergrove Plains, they walk with druids and thunderherds, speaking to the spirits of stone and storm. Along the Stormcliff Heights, a few isolated tribes have even begun to revere the silence and fury of the peaks themselves.
Many orcs live in concert with nature, not in defiance of it. They revere the elements, honor ancestral spirits, and build with sustainability in mind. War is never sought without cause, and even then, it is ritualized and bound by code. Orcish warriors are disciplined and tactically brilliant, wielding their might with pride—but also with control. The image of mindless rage is a lie born of those who feared their strength, and spread stories to justify their subjugation.
Magic is rare among orcs, but never scorned. Spirit-speakers, bonebinders, and storm-callers walk among them, often trained from childhood by wise elders. Their magic leans toward the primal—blood, earth, wind, and fire. Such gifts are seen as a sacred trust, used to protect, to guide, or to avenge.
Orcs have a profound respect for death—not as an end, but as a return. The fallen are buried in barrow fields, their spirits called upon during rites and hardships. To be forgotten is the only true dishonor. Great warriors, wise chieftains, and devoted parents alike are immortalized in songs that may outlast mountains.
They do not bend easily to foreign gods, though some have embraced deities who reflect orcish ideals—gods of endurance, storms, strength, or sacrifice. Others still call out to older forces—spirits of the hunt, of bone, of fire and stone. A few have even pledged themselves to Titans, walking the border between mortal and elemental.
Above all, orcs endure. They are a people shaped by adversity but never defined by it—builders, defenders, and survivors. Whether forging new homes from ruin or standing unbroken on ancient soil, they are bound by blood, legacy, and the unshakable truth that nothing given freely holds the worth of that which is earned.
