Nashite

Their Skin Like Gray Stone, Rough and Scratched by the Empire

Your fingers are clenching up as they numb in the biting cold and the hairs in your nose have been frozen for ages. The terrible snowstorms between the Hathaika Peaks are unrelenting. In fact, they seem to steadily be getting worse as time marches forward. Deep in your chest, there is nothing but fear and pain. The pain, from the unceasing ice and snow that is rampant in these high altitudes. The fear, from the stern faces of the figures in front of you, partially obscured from the snowfall as if they were ghosts. Their skin is pale and gray, their eyes are a rich brown. Long and protruding teeth break through their tight lips. Many of them have scars and all of them hold weapons at the ready. One, who seems to be the leader, steps forward ever so slowly. Cautiously. "This is no day for death." he bellows in a deep and gruff voice as he lowers his weapon and extends a hand. Strangely, the phrase was spoken in your own tongue. You're saved from the cold, but who could have ever imagined that your saviors would be orcs? The Empire had always taught you that the Nashite peoples were brutish and violent. Yet these people show you hospitality. It's then that you realize that everything that the Empire's taught you is wrong.

Art: Made using Snow Environment/Weather Concept by Wes Wheeler and Ownka by Tanya Sangsnit (modified)