Red Fang Ork tribe

As the first light of dawn breaks through the dense canopy, the Red Fang tribe stirs from their slumber. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint embers of last night's fires. The orcs move with a practiced efficiency, their dark green skin blending with the shadows of the forest. Darash, the tribe's leader, stands tall, his protruding jaw set in a determined line as he oversees the breaking of camp.
Sazab, his wife, moves among the orcs, her voluptuous figure draped in furs and leather. She offers words of encouragement, her deep-set eyes reflecting the morning light. The warriors, clad in iron mail and chainmail, dismantle the temporary shelters, rolling up the hides and securing them to their wargs. The massive, pony-sized wolves stretch and yawn, their eyes gleaming with an intelligence that mirrors their orc companions.
The craftsmen among the tribe carefully pack their tools, each one a testament to their skill and the tribe's self-sufficiency. Bowmakers string their bows, blacksmiths secure their hammers, and tanners fold their leathers.