https://www.reddit.com/r/worldbuilding/comments/a8ngo4/the_small_orc_town_of_rokdomnar/

Gregor

Wondering how he must have looked with all that orc blood on him, Gregor quickly found himself a piece of cloth, and hurriedly began cleaning himself up so as to not scare the little mudsaps, when he called out, “Lytan, it’s safe! You can come out now!”

The wait, turned into minutes with Gregor finally taking a seat by the crackling flames, licked his lips at the smell of roasted hob, and plucked out a burnt leg. Took a bite, and felt his mouth water at the taste of its juices running down his chin. The eyes that watched him, almost smacking their own lips hungrily, only Gregor had no idea what to do with them.

+1 HP.

As it was, he had enough troubles of his own, and he found it strange that orcs would attack a passing caravan. For that’s what they surely had to be with that one fat gnome scratching his big bulbous red nose, and the dwarves, and a troll that looked like street toughs that had been hired to act as guards. The fae woman who sat alone, dressed in fine blue silk that made her either a mage or highborn lady.

If he were to also guess, these orcs had to be slavers, but from what he could recall of his last time here, orcs did not approve of such behavior in Orkeylium, and had employed the King’s Legions to guard against such criminal activity. The battle-hardened mercenary force he’d seen in the fortresses along the border was the only real power in Orkelyium, and was made up of different races from all across Coroleya, since orcs themselves refused to build their own armies. Something to do with the barbarity of war, and not wishing to lower themselves into the muck of the world. However that had not stopped them from becoming hired thugs or recruiting mercenary companies to guard their own lands.

Orcs were, and are a strange lot.

But that’s not what stopped him from freeing these people, eyes adjusted to the gloom, he let out a snort of disgust as he recognized the distinctive black armor he had stripped from their bodies. The stylized three rings embossed into the chest, marking these orcs as no ordinary slavers, but ones working for the Blood Rings, an underground slave market in Vanclar that provided the Primes with the freshest possible blood for their many discerning patrons.

And now he feared he had stepped into their world.

Brows knotted up in frustration at again letting his temper get the better of him, he felt a bubble of rage as he wondered where those fools could have gotten to? As it was, it shouldn't have taken them this damn long to realize that they were safe and that they could come out of hiding. Only chances were, the damn pukelings had probably gotten themselves lost or something worse. If so he wasn’t about to go looking for them, bad enough that they had slowed him down already.

However by the time twilight began to approach, he began to worry that they were dead, and that he probably should look for them, when Lytan emerged with Sara, the both of them cautiously joining him by the campfire as they stared at the huddled mass of captives. The expression that crossed the boy’s face, a mix of worry and curiosity as he glanced at the pools of congealing blood, then took a seat beside him.

“Who are they?” he asked with the girl staring into the fire hungrily, when Gregor dipped his fingers into the flames, and wrenched off another leg to lay on her dress. Brown eyes almost sparkling with hunger, the girl eagerly blew on the piece of meat, and took a bite.

Gregor half shrugging his shoulders as he lay down on his back, replied, “Just some damn fools that got caught up in trouble.”

Face almost a somber mask, Lytan leaned down to look at him. “We should free them.” The words full of such conviction that Gregor wanted to laugh in the poor boy’s face, but then what could he know of the real world? It was bad enough Gregor had interfered with the Blood Rings, but to take their prize away from them as well? He might as well offer his neck back up to the Shadow Hunters.

(Pull out his dagger and clean it.)

Blood coated dagger drawn from its sheath, Gregor began cleaning its edges. The gleam of metal covered in congealed blood, enough to shut the boy's trap, when the young idiot got that look in his eyes, and started over towards the prisoners.

His intentions so clear, Gregor let out a heavy sigh, before he threw the dagger. The weapon tumbling end over end to flash past Lytan's face as it stabbed into a tree.

The dark glower he shot at the boy full of such menace and ill intent, that for a moment Gregor thought he had gotten the message through the thick boy's skull. But besides his surprise at the dagger quivering in the tree, Lytan shook his head in admonition, took the weapon from the tree, and moved to cut their bonds. The murmured words of thanks, a broken balm for the trouble they would bring Gregor.

+1 Morale.

(Convince the boy of his stupidity.)

But as it was he sensed that wasn’t going to be enough for the boy. With his deep sea blue eyes still watching him, Gregor released a heavy sigh, “you do realize what you’re asking me, boy? Even if I freed them, there's every chance that they’ll still die here. They’ll either want their stuff back and I’ll have to kill them for it, or they will spread word of what has happened here, and both options don’t sit too well with me. Are you sure you want to risk your life, and hers on it?”

And for a moment Gregor could see indecision, the boy biting his under lip as he gazed at each one of them, battling his own inner desire to help, and the need to keep her safe. It was a struggle Gregor himself had undergone a long time ago. And if truth be told, he hadn’t always been a pukestain, but that was how the world worked, and so he had been forced to adapt.

Only from the look in his eyes, Gregor knew the boy needed more time, so with another heavy sigh, Gregor heaved himself back up, strode over towards them, and with the firelight shining in his eyes said, “If any of you try anything. I will kill you.”

+2 Morale.

~*~

Dreaming of the strange woman in the fur-lined dress for yet a fifth time in a row, Gregor felt himself being drawn towards her, her face wreathed in fire, violet-colored eyes gazing down at him, when suddenly she leaned forward, and whispered, "Wake up, Gregor!"

The familiar voice, snapped him awake, sword flashing through the air to find the young boy standing over him, his forehead coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and skin drained of all life as Gregor's sword rested up against his throat.

The weapon hastily drawn back, Gregor sat up in the dust, and grunted, "What are you doing, fool? Did you want to die here?"

Face still pale with shock, Lytan shook his head from side to side, blue eyes darting to the other side of the now smoking campfire, before he whispered, "they're gone."

The instant the words left his lips, causing Gregor to straighten up, fully awake as he spun around to look at where the prisoners had gone down to sleep, but just as the boy had said, they were all gone. The bare stretch of soil around the tent empty of everyone, except for the torn ropes as Gregor let out a dry snort of amusement.

So much for the reward they had promised him last night. Not that he had expected the slick tongued gnome to give him anything. Something about that slippery little bastard had set his teeth on edge, and he was well glad to be rid of them, which just left the two kids.

Swiveling slightly as an odd thought occurred to him, he glanced into the tent, and let out a heavy sigh of relief at seeing the crates still piled up together. Chances were they had been too heavy to carry away in the night and as curiosity got the better of him. He stood up, heavy bones creaking from too many nights spent beneath the stars, and gently nudged Sara awake who had somehow ended up behind him with her back pressed up against his, and went in search of valuable loot.

Lytan who seemed to understand what Gregor was doing, copied his lead as they pulled back the half-opened tent flaps, and began rummaging inside for gold or jewelry, anything they could carry with them.

Crates cracked open one by one, each box was filled to the brim with crossbows, longswords, maces, and other weapons of war. All of them marked on the handle with a phoenix in flight. The oddity of finding such weapons in the hands of slavers, causing him to pause in thought, and wonder where they had gotten them? Swords like these did not usually belong to bandits, but high ranking officers, even the crossbows, made of dark wood were hard to find and even harder to make.

Handing a shortsword and crossbow to Lytan, he said, "here, boy, you should have a proper weapon if you mean to protect her. Otherwise, next time you stop a man on the road, you could get a sword through your throat."

The brief reminder of what had occurred, caused Lytan to blush a deep red before his blue eyes sparkled with delight as he took the weapon from him, and stared at its edge. The weapon like the others was marked with the rising phoenix on the hilt, and symbols along the center of the sword.

Hopefully, the boy wouldn't have to learn how to use it, but knowing the world as it was, Gregor feared he would.

Turning to regard the fire that had all but died out to a few embers of smoke that drifted up into the sky, he started away, when he felt a small tug at his knees and looked down to see Sara. Her dark, curly-haired framed a pale skinned face as she pointed to Lytan's sword then back to herself. Her wide brown eyes staring at him with such intensity like a lioness protecting her cubs that he almost smiled down at her.

"You want one too is that it?"

(Give her a weapon.)

Head nodded in reply, Gregor shook his head at what he was getting himself into, and pulled out a knife from one of the crates. Fingered the razor-sharp edge and gave it to her. The girl nodding her head thoughtfully, and pocketing the weapon, making him wonder which of the two was the more dangerous.

+1 Morale.

(Don't give her a weapon.)

Head nodded in reply, Gregor shook his head at what he was getting himself into, thought about arming her as well, but didn't much like the idea. Chances were the girl would get herself hurt, or try to fight when she should run.

Head shaking from side to side.

He knelt down and swept her up into his arms, his head nodding for Lytan to follow him as they walked back down through the hillside. The morning sunlight transforming the clouds into a gorgeous array of orange hues as they strode towards the sunrises.

Lytan, who was unable to take his hands off his shortsword, touched the weapon with awe, while Sara fell asleep in Gregor's arms. The morning songbirds that accompanied them, trilling their sweet music as pixies returned to pester him, the tiny little turds now making fun of the way he walked, trying to mimic his lumbering stride on the invisible ground, until finally Gregor could see the beginnings of a small farming village.

The grain mills they passed by on the King's Road, filled with dozens of orcs in dusty brown work leathers that worked in the fields and tended to the animals. The people he saw darkly tanned with weathered faces that looked up at him with weariness. The small round shaped homes that came into view, plastered white, with butting domes on top. The cobblestone streets empty for the most part besides passing patrols of King's Guards, who wore the winged helmet, and burnished steel breastplates of the Legion. The sour glances that darted his way, turned to snorts of disapproval at the sight of the sword at Lytan's hips. Which in turn caused the young man to clutch it all the tighter as though afraid they would take it away from him. (You can click on two options before selecting the inn.)

What do you do?

Choice 1. Alert the guards about the slavers?

Choice 2. Check out the noticeboard for news?

Choice 3. See if there is a healer in the village?

Choice 4. Finally head for the inn?