The month of October is an interesting overlap of creative communities. Fans of orcs of all types, from the cartoonish noble orcs of World of Warcraft, to the Cockney warmonger orks of Warhammer 40k, to even the monstrous abomination of the original Tolkienian orcs, all come together with their artistic skill to paint the internet green with all manner of orcish art and writing. At the same time, the Inktober challenge is on-going, as artists all over the world take on this particular drawing challenge by doing one ink drawing a day the entire month.
This last October, I decided to take my own spin on things by taking the daily prompts for Inktober and writing about orcs. I did not get a far as I would have liked, but I did manage to get some good worldbuilding and characterization out of it.
Orctober 1 – Ring
Five hundred years have passed since the Tuskan warlord F’larghe was defeated, ushering in a minor, but notable golden age across the realm as the orcish armies of the North were laid low, to retreat back into the arctic forests and whose subsequent neutralizing sparked a new renaissance in the magical arts and natural philosophy as the Immortals found their voices again.
Two hundred and sixty years have passed since the founder of Roswarg’s Junction awoke from his own magical sleep, entering into a scary new modern era, with only his lab, his pets and some ancient scribblings to guide his way.
Ten years ago Morari Entrepot left home for the first time to find his own fortune in the world. Between his music, his magic, and his heritage, he already had a lot going for him. Though not enough to protect him from what was to follow.
It’s been two years since they met, locking eyes across the aisle while grabbing for the same cantaloupe. Two years since Morari felt his heart stir in ways that he never thought his emotions could stir.
And now, today.
Morari looked at his face in the mirror. He didn’t consider himself to be handsome or attractive (especially before his morning coffee), though he’d lived and worked long enough to know that there were folks who were inexplicably drawn to the orcish appeal. It’s not like he was an elf with their otherworldly beauty, or a human, with their uncanny resemblance to most Immortals. Even the halflings and gnomes had “racial cuteness” going for them. The orcs were the orcs (or rather, the Tuskan tribes as modern sensibilities would have them to be called), unique among the Races of Men, but again, they all had certain traits that one could use to pick them out of a crowd: the almost always lumbering gait, leathery, green-grey skin that covered a tall muscular frame, and the tusks. Well, of course the tusks, these were the Tuskan tribes after all.
“Oral hygiene is very important to the growing orc,” Morari repeated the mantra he learned years ago, grinning slightly as he started the careful process of his morning tusk-polish.
“Morari,” the tiefling looked at his watch. “Morari, if we don’t leave soon, factoring in traffic, we’re going to be late.”
“I’m almost done, Esty!” the orc bellowed from the bathroom. “Remember, ‘oral hygiene is very important to the growing orc.’ Flossing and polish take time. Besides, don’t you have a good friendship with Zhubkert? Just have him rewind time for us or something.”
“Do you have to call me Esty? We are both way too old for childhood nicknames. And you know Zhubkert doesn’t just do that if someone asks.”
“You’re cute when you blush, little brother. So yes, I do. And even I know that, yes. He really would do that if a friend of his asks. And you know, better than most, all this talking is only slowing me down.”
“What’s taking so long?”
“Like I said before, flossing and polish take time to do properly. Especially the polish part.”
“Mora,” his brother said, “there are cantrips for that. Just buy a spellcard and you wouldn’t have to spend twenty minutes just on your face everytime we want to go out.”
However, though he as heavily invested in proper tooth care as he was, Morari’s eyes kept flicking to an object on the bathroom countertop. Sitting innocuous on the counter beside the sink, yet safely out of the way of the splashing water and light spittle, was the focus of the orc’s entire day.
Today was the day, and that little ringbox would be the start of a brand new era.
All she had to do was say yes.
Jude Writes Stuff 