The Orcs of Ulvad

It was getting late. Yet another night passes and I fail to find enough game to feed the clan. Part of me believed that the ancestral hunting grounds were barren, but that couldn't be right. For centuries my tribe has lived within the icy confines of Rejomensc, but I am only now coming of age. I've been hunting for nearly a week now but to no avail. I've found no deer, no moose, no goat or ram; nothing.
I hated the hunt. I spent most of my days making weapons or fishing in the foothills. I hated Rejomensc. The true parts of Rejomensc; where the cold was so unbearable that even our ragged hides couldn't tolerate it. Our people, the orcs, have lived here for generations. With our morning meals and evening meals, we pray to Her, Mutala. She is the mother of our people. She is the sun and the moons. In truth, my prayers sound more akin to pleading. I beg her for the ability to communicate with the other races. I pray that I can make the humans, elves, and squats understand that we are not evil. We are not savages.
Scarcely do I hear the calls of birds. It is not quite time for hibernation, so my lack of meat is greatly disturbing. I feel as though my people will starve without the food. My only choice is to venture further down into the foothills: the place where my tribe is forbidden to enter.
I nearly break myself upon the hard crag as I drop, my gaze panning slowly upward to meet the unusually green horizon. So far off that the fog swallows most of my sight, I see rolling copses of trees amidst smooth hills of grass. This place, so tranquil, is what my kin warned me of. I spent what seemed to be hours wading through the trees and brush. Unfamiliar trills of woodland creatures and the hushing sound of water. In truth, I completely lost track of my hunt. That was before I heard the language of humans. I had gone too far. As I slowly made to creep away, I stumbled on a game trail. No sooner did I hear a terrifying bang. So loud, it made my ears scream in pain.
Before I knew it I was trapped. The teeth of an iron-wrought trap dug deep into my leg. Two fellows wearing heavy coats and shiny boots threatened me with these strange contraptions of iron and wood. Before I could even speak, the roar of some unseen beasts interrupted them. They took to running, leaving me to bleed. Leaving me to the beasts. I had been fortunate enough to not be purged by the humans, but not quite fortunate enough to escape the beasts. I patiently awaited my end as two large, fur-coated humanoids approached. Trolls. They hushed me as I hissed, for the salve, they applied to my wound stung as much as the initial bite. After a while, we began talking, as trolls are the distant ancestors of the orcish people, so our tongue wasn’t too different. Hard to understand at times, but not unintelligible. They helped me back up the mountainside and even provided me with meat. They apologized, for humans had been trekking up the hills and mountainside; stealing our game. These trolls had done their best to protect those who live outside stone walls from the ever-expanding humans.
"Hail, Kaarj," a deep and grave-like voice cut through the screaming spirits in the wind, "how goes your search?"
"I am well enough." I lied. In truth, my doubts were stronger than my desire to hunt.
"Do your best to find the stag. I don't want to tell the clan that you failed again."
"I know it, Vakir. Leave me be before I lose my temper."

As soon as Vakir departed, I began my descent. One day, I'd tell Vakir that I had been trading with the trolls for deer. Now, now is not that day. The trolls were good folk, and I believe them to be our way out of the frozen crag that is Rejomensc. I offer them a small wooden figure I carved in exchange for some of their spices and the carcass. Sometimes I see the rolling green hills of Domnstel beyond the trees. I catch the scent of fresh bread as the trolls tease me for being as hairy as they. I laugh. Most humans, I'd wager, couldn't tell a troll apart from an orc. Someday they will, though. I'm sure of it.

Naming Traditions

Unisex names

The given name of orcs are always unisex in sound. Some examples are Kaarg, Drak, Makalod, and Atalad

Family names

The Orcs of Rejomensc take up the names of their clan. Humans know their clans to be things such as "Bloodhammer" or "Rottusk". In their tongue, they are Montags, Albadels, Casedreks, etc.

Culture

Major language groups and dialects

Orcs typically speak their own tongue with clans have differing dialects. Very few speak Ulvish common.

Shared customary codes and values

All tribes that live in Rejomensc agree to avoid contact with humans. While most tribes are passive, a few decide to hunt to assure that humans don't take what little land they have left.

Art & Architecture

While they are limited on what they can make, many whittle stone and wood and others tend to write stories and songs.