Quill and Compass, Entry 30: Orcs

Orcs are too often described by those who have never lived among them. They are indeed a formidable people, but far from a simple one. We Elves carried our El’Koryn inheritance further into the refinement of mind and Spirit, our Orcish cousins carried it into body and endurance. They are not lesser reflections of a shared ancestry, but another answer to the same ancient question: how ought one live, knowing life is finite?

Though Orcs now dwell across much of Gaiaxia, their ancestral roots lie, as ours do, in central Nilheim near the sacred lands of Ikozra’s Temple. They have since spread widely and can prosper in nearly any terrain, though many seem drawn by instinct or preference toward hilly country, rocky highlands, and mountainous regions. Their settlements often reflect that preference. Orcish halls are frequently carved into cliffsides or built outward from stone in concentric formations, each ring reinforcing the next; even their architecture embodies Orcish endurance.

In appearance, Orcs are unmistakably kin to the Elves, though shaped by harsher lands. They are generally taller and broader, with incredibly dense, powerful musculature and sharply defined features. Their skin tends toward more earthen tones like their Wild Elf cousins, and their jaws are especially pronounced. Like all descendants of the El’Koryn, they retain elongated canines, though in Orcs the lower pair have grown into prominent tusk-like fangs. They are also the only branch of our lineage to have developed substantial facial hair, particularly beards, which are often worn with great pride. Curiously, moustaches remain largely absent, a fact I record with all due seriousness, though I confess it strikes me as one of the Realm’s quieter absurdities.

Orcs mature physically at much the same age as their Elven cousins, yet no Orc claims adulthood merely by surviving long enough to reach it. For them, adulthood must be proven. This principle rests at the heart of Orcish culture. Orcish children are not granted their true personal names at birth, but only upon passing their trials and being recognized as full members of the clan. Until then, they are addressed simply as child, young one, or by similarly humble kinship terms. Each year, clans and tribes gather for a set of trials through which the young must demonstrate not only strength, but usefulness, resilience, and character. These contests may take the form of feats of endurance, combat, hunting, or craft. To pass is to be recognized as a full member of one’s people. To fail is not exile, but shame, followed by another year of labor, correction, training, and preparation before the trials return.  

This practice has shaped the Orcish temperament profoundly. They are highly competitive, and often with a fervor that can unsettle those unfamiliar with them. Yet competition among them is rarely arbitrary. It is tied to contribution, to improvement, to the desire to stand worthy before one’s clan and the wider tribe. Orcs challenge one another constantly: in sparring, in racing, in hunting, in craftsmanship, even in storytelling. Much of it is healthy, though some of it is not. There is, among Orcs, a dangerous fondness for proving one can survive what perhaps ought not be attempted in the first place. More than a few lives have been cut short by the conviction that courage must always be louder than caution.

And yet, for all their appetite for trial, Orcs are not solitary creatures. Quite the opposite. Family, whether of blood or bond, forms the core of their society. Orcish life is organized primarily through clans, and these clans are often larger and more flexible than outsiders first realize. Bloodlines matter, certainly, but bonds forged through loyalty, marriage, service, and shared hardship are often treated with equal seriousness. Multiple clans may live together within a single settlement, their boundaries blurring through generations of interdependence. Most clans are guided by the eldest man and woman of the clan, be they partners or not, who together serve as anchors of wisdom, memory, and direction. Orcs are highly protective of those they call their own, and one quickly learns that to harm a single member of a clan is rarely to make only one enemy.

The body, among Orcs, remains what it was among the El’Koryn: not merely a vessel, but a testament. Where Elves record their lives in their braids, Orcs have chosen their skin. Tattooing is not just a simple matter of decoration, but of memory made material. Accomplishments, losses, vows, kinships, and turning points are etched into the body with striking intricacy, most often in bold linework rather than bright color. Their darker skin lends itself well to this style, and Orcish tattoo artistry is among the most accomplished I have seen anywhere in Gaiaxia. Piercings are similarly common, though more personal in meaning. Some are markers of adulthood, others of taste, grief, affection, or defiance. One would be hard-pressed to find an Orc untouched by one form of adornment or another.

Their naming conventions reflect both ancestry and adaptation. Orcish personal names are given at birth, often chosen with care and carried through childhood, but a clan name is not formally attached until adulthood is earned. In this way, an Orc is born as themselves, but must still prove how they will stand among their people. Once the trials are passed, the full structure becomes simple and dignified: a personal name followed by clan, as in Tharen of Varnak or Elirra of Dorthun. The effect is fitting. An Orc is never understood as an isolated soul, but as a person shaped by kin, bound by duty, and recognized in relation to those beside whom they have chosen to stand.

It is tempting, from a distance, to see Orcs as the most divergent of the El’Koryn descendants. In truth, I am not certain that is so. Their customs may be louder, their bodies heavier, their tempers quicker to surface, but the old inheritance remains plainly visible. Purpose. Witness. Contribution. The belief that a life must be proven, not merely possessed. Orcs did not abandon the El’Koryn philosophy. They drove it into muscle and onto skin until no one could fail to see it.

May you be known not only by what you endure, but by whom you choose to stand beside.
Yours, ever truly,
— Tobias Elanor, Bard, Scholar, Explorer Extraordinaire

© DracTheDrake

Hello hello!!

Ah, the Orcs. A fantasy classic, trope-y as tropes can get, but a staple nonetheless. We didn't want our Orcs to just be the typical dumb green bad guys who only love to fight and destroy. We took inspiration from the Warcraft universe, a touch from Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion, sprinkled in some Hawaiian and Polynesian culture, then added in our twists, of course. Lilly often jokes that I'm built like an Orc, which I've decided to take as a compliment!

We never really experimented with not being named prior to adulthood before building the Orcs, so that was quite the rabbit hole. How do you differentiate between two kids in conversation? How do kids and adolescents introduce themselves? We ultimately decided that they don't earn their surname until they've proven themselves.

Thanks again for reading Quill and Compass! 30 entries have blinked by... and there's still PLENTY to cover, so please keep coming back. See you in entry 31!