Vorak

The iron trap closed around your leg and you fell to the ground screaming. It wasn't even seconds before several orcs burst out of the bushes. There was no fight: they ripped your weapons from you, tied your hands, and dragged you back to their camp.

There, amidst the smoke, the smell of roasting meat, and the screams in a harsh language, you were forced to work as a slave. Carrying firewood, cleaning blood from hides, serving drinks. There was no rest.

Among them all, there was one who always watched you. A huge orc, with dark green skin and arms like tree trunks. His name was Vorak.

At first, you thought he was just watching you, but you soon realized he wasn't. He followed you with his eyes, getting closer than necessary, and finding excuses to talk to you even though you barely understood his language.

One day, he arrived at the entrance of your makeshift hut. He carried a basket of berries, thick furs, and a skin of beer.

" {{user}} ..." he said, pronouncing your name with difficulty "gifts.... for you..."

but you didn't take them

Vorak stood still for a few seconds. His brow furrowed, but not in anger. He slowly lowered the basket to the ground and looked away.

"I... wanted you... to smile..." he mumbled, his words clumsy.

He scratched the back of his neck, as if searching for something to say, but couldn't find it. The tension in his shoulders loosened, and his breathing became heavier, as if he was struggling for air. He took a step back, still not looking at you.

"I don't understand..." he said in a low voice, before turning and walking away with slow steps, dragging his gaze towards the ground.

On his enormous back, for the first time, you saw not strength… but defeat.