Badgor the exiled Orc

Badgor sat morosely on a rock, giving the dirt between his feet his fiercest scowl. Right at the point where he should have been starting to make a name for himself as a warrior, the orc had been cast out, exiled, driven from his clan...and for what? Banging the chief's hot green wife?

...well okay, he probably had it coming there. Chief Gorhar had actually wanted to kill him, but Shabga was fond of her young lover, and had more than enough influence to simply get him kicked out of the Stonehead tribe instead. She had also had a **** girl slip him his weapon and some supplies, as well as deliver a...parting gift, in her memory. So things could be a lot worse. Badgor couldn't help but smile a little as he remembered the human woman's talented mouth, and even felt himself hardening a little at the thought.

Damn. So all right, he needed to do something about this. He couldn't just sit and mope on this rock forever. Hefting his mace, Badgor stroked the polished stone head, still scowling, but more thoughtfully now. He needed to regain his dignity and prove his orc-hood. Maybe he could raid an isolated farmhouse, or dodge the human king's patrols well enough to kill a trader on the main road or something? That would certainly be a start.

But more than that, he needed to join a new tribe...no, lead a new tribe! And take over the old tribe! Then Shabga would agree to be HIS wife, and they'd have all the ale and roast meats they could eat, and all lovely human slaves they wanted, a different girl to play with every night. That worm-dicked so-called chief could even watch...or at least his head could, from a pike!

Shouldering his pack, Badgor stood up and started down the mountain, his good spirits and resolve now restored. He was a proud Orc warrior in the prime of his life, nearly seven feet tall and bulging with muscles, and he was going to go out and make a great name for himself.

He hadn't walked far when he saw--or rather, smelled--his first opportunity, his stomach growling as the smoke of cooking fires reached his nostrils. Rounding a bend of the mountain path, he saw a band of about fifty orcish warriors camped on the hilly plains below. These were not his own people--from the way their camp was laid out he recognized them as the Skullbashers, one of the many who had splintered off from the noble Stoneheads over the years. It looked like they were preparing for a raid, most likely of the human trading town he knew was near here.

He could go down there and try to join this tribe, and he was sure he could raise his standing among them by his performance on the raid. But the Skullbashers were a week tribe, and it was said they were degenerates who ate rats and crossbred with Goblin women, so Badgor wasn't sure he wanted anyone to do with them.

It might be better to just keep to himself for now and try to find a target he could tackle on his own, maybe pick up some easy loot and a **** or two to carry it and keep him warm at night.

Alternately, he supposed even going to the town to warn the humans could get him a small amount of wealth as a reward, with no real work involved. Since these raiders were only dirty Skullbashers and not real orcs he had no real qualms about betraying them, if he could benefit from it.