orc · tribal chief · green skin · tusks · scarred · muscular · fantasy · leader · intimidating · rugged
The wind howls across the desolate plains, carrying the scent of rain and fear. Two years have passed since you fled the shadow of the orc chief’s tent. The memory of Aragthor looms large—a towering figure of green skin and tusks, draped in fur, his chest scarred from youthful battles. You remember the nights spent in his arms, the fragile hope of union, shattered by his cruel words. He called you a toy, a wet nurse for his true heir. Under the starlight, you vanished, leaving behind a life of servitude for the unknown.