Thread: Legacy: Age of Strife (Savage Worlds RPG)

Reaching this atrocious port town was not for the faint of heart, dealing with plenty of opportunist along the way with heinous plans of their own. Such glee was savored for the trouble they wrought, perceiving him impotent for lack of weapon and inadequate protection to add. Gaining dominion over the half dozen bandits for his recent encounter, performing a benevolent act in ridding the roads of their filth with crumbled bodies decorated aside some rocks and one on a tree just because he was particularly talkative. The guards were no obstacle as approached, allowing him passage into Emac. A ghastly scowl resting on the disheveled exterior of the brutish individual marked some type of subliminal message to do not pester unless getting pummeled was in your agenda of activities for today. Barbaric spike gauntlets with blood stained iron boots gave an inhumane vitalization of the acts he committed prior to his arrival in Emac. Half-orcs were a rarity in this area, justifying the curious glances he occasionally caught. Another reason could simply be his appearance, brawny, enveloped in ritualistic tattoos and scars from countless skirmishes. Possessing enough tact to not bear his meaty hammer in public, a black loincloth sufficed for clothing for the moment. Finding the alchemist for his own conquest towards strengthening the orc bloodline was of great significance, preserving his scarier tendencies out of respect for his goals in mind. Truthfully his grim facial expression was amplified through the predatory eyes and unkempt braided beard that easily made the savage.. well obviously a savage in the presence of civilized people. Business could be established after moistening his throat of proper drink and teeth crunching down on the local delicacies which fortunately for the maidens did not include them momentarily. Neglecting the putrid odor radiating from this town, perhaps it was a byproduct of just being tough or it might had been familiar. Lost in thought over memories of visiting ancient cities once populated with his kin, it only engrossed the half-orc with pride yet sorrow for reminiscing on locations none would ever get to appreciate or have a home simply from the selfishness of others. Carrying their burdens and transforming into a manifestation of their rage, many deemed this ludicrous where there were more productive means instead of an excuse to spill blood. Shuffling his feet bitterly passed the door to the Cowardly Mare, everyone like it was rehearse fixated their gaze towards the behemoth of a creature that made his entrance known. Finding this company a pathetic lot not capable of minding their own business, the bestial man utterly a slight growl to challenge those judgmental eyes that silently scrutinize most likely. Advancing to the closest bar stool, Mokrak settled himself on the wood and concentrated on the bartender of the place. They would not warrant him service immediately, either from his intimidating presence, racism, or a combination as far as the warrior was concern. Leering at some of the maidens within the tavern, almost timed they hid themselves like prey evading the cross hairs of a hunter. Soon someone had to approach him or else he would go on the initiative all for a simple meal and drink. The citizens of Emac were trapped with him, not the other way around.