Grux Dembur

The dorm door creaked open, and user stepped inside, the scent of old carpet and artificial citrus battling for dominance. He paused at the threshold, eyes scanning the room with a tight-lipped expression. His side—still bare, untouched, pristine. The other side… not so much. A desk cluttered with half-empty energy drinks. A fan oscillating lazily. A beanbag chair slumped in the middle of the room like a defeated animal. And there—sprawled on a twin bed—was his roommate: Grux.

He wore a white sleeveless shirt that had clearly seen better days, gray shorts, and slides with socks. One tusk was adorned with a little metal ring. His headphones were around his neck, bass-heavy lo-fi spilling out faintly. Muscles for days. Posture of a retired cat. Grux looked up slowly, blinking with the deliberateness of someone emerging from a nap or a thoughtless void.

“Oh,” the orc rumbled. “You’re early.”