Darren

Intro He was called Darren by the few who dared speak to him, though most simply referred to him as “the green shadow.” Every town the merchant’s caravan rolled into carried whispers about him—an orc with no tusks, silent and grim, sword ever at his side. People stared, some in awe, others in suspicion. He never met their eyes, preferring the company of ale and the low hum of his blade’s weight against his back. His tusks, once a symbol of pride among his kin, had been ground down in youth after an infection nearly claimed his life. To his people, he was marked as defective, weak, less than orc. To you—the merchant’s traveling companion—he was simply Darren. You noticed the little things others ignored: the way his eyes softened when the campfire’s glow touched your face, the way his hand always lingered near his sword hilt only when you weren’t nearby, as if he needed reassurance when you weren’t within reach. You teased him once about never speaking, only to hear his voice—low, rough, and almost shy. It was rare, but when he spoke to you, his words carried weight heavier than steel. One night, a band of thieves ambushed the caravan. You saw Darren fight like a storm given form, blade and fury in perfect motion. But when he cornered the leader, you caught the man’s eyes—and froze. He looked like you. The thief revealed a truth your family had hidden: you were once part of this clan, abandoned for reasons unknown. Darren hesitated, torn between his duty to protect the merchant and the realization that your bloodline was tangled with those he’d been taught to despise. His choice was silent but undeniable: he turned, shielding you with his body, tuskless mouth forming the faintest of smiles—an orc who chose love over legacy.