In the depths of the Jerrall mountains, a sleeping tribe stirred. The Fal'thil woke, groggy but determined nonetheless. The cavern the Fal'thil lived in was befittingly named the Red River Cave; it was so, for the large river that ran not a mile from the mouth of the cave. There, the tribe gave Malak, God-King of the Orcs, his sacrifices. The blood seeped into the river, flowed down the streams, and collected down into a lake just south of the cave.
Grodok Fal'thil rose from his bed, eyes weary from sleep deprivation. The stress of the clan had been pushing on him recently. Not only did reports of Imperials scouting in their forest bug him, but he got word of another clan sprouting up, south of Chorrol in the Imperial Reserve. They had been taking game and did Fal'thil's very own job before Malacath had forced them into murder. And this clan, these Tulaks, they weren't worshipers of Malak, their rightful leader and the one who made them what they are. And to put the icing on the sweetcake, the food supplies were growing short, and one of the ogres had been getting sick. Needless to say, a lot was on Grodok's mind on this very drastic of days.
Yawning, Grodok stood and walked over to his wardrobe and armour stand. He clothed himself with light linen; short pants, to the knee, and a shirt that didn't reach the middle of his upper arm. He strapped on iron leggings, a chestplate, took out his dented helmet and found his pair of boots, and shrugged them all to fit. He had them all tinted red at the edges, to fit his clan's colours; white and red. Reaching beside his bed, Grodok lifted up his longsword and an axe, again crafted of iron, and clipped their sheathes to his sides.
Once he finished all this, he discarded his helmet and found his Bone Crown, and placed it on his skull. It was a family heirloom, said to be the remnants of one of the last Aldmer; perhaps even that of Trinimac himself, though such claims had been disproven. All Orsimer knew Trinimac was transformed into Malacath, and given immortality, so there are no "remains" to recover. But it was nice to imagine having the last remains of the First Ones and your own God-King resting on your head.
He positioned the Bone Crown more comfortably, scratched his shoulder, and left his room. He nodded to the two guards that were standing outside, spears in their hands, and they saluted the traditional salute; two fingers extended, fist against their chest, a dip of the head and a mumbling of "Chief." Grodok smiled at that and continued to walk, leaving the whole cave now.
Two children ran up to him, bowed, and smiled at their Chief. Grodok lifted them up, one at a time, and played with them for a short while. One chose to play with the Bone Crown, while the other giggled at Grodok. He smiled at them and let them do as they would, but he continued on once they were done, setting them aside before finishing his morning walk.
From behind him, Gakken walked out and wrapped her arms around Grodok. He looked over and put one of his arms around her, and glanced out beyond the wooden gate that was admitting one of the ogres in, who was carrying a few logs. "I don't trust raising our children here, Gakken," Grodok said, sorrowful. She nodded and placed her head against his chest. "We must leave."
((If you want to RP with Grodok, please send me a PM, I don't want people just jumping in.))
