Greg – the Good Guy Orc

This is Greg, Greg is a good guy that is really tall, really strong and green. Due to his odd face and sharp teeth most don’t think Greg is a good guy. However Greg is fine man and a farmer, and likes to raise his turnips in peace. However, Heroes tend to think Greg is like the other Orcs (Greg can admit that he isn’t actually a common kind of Orc but it is annoying) and often has to defend his own farm from heroes thinking he’s a raider. However he tends to dump them on their behind, or knock them out, then they wake up to a hot meal, an explanation and they tend to go their own ways.  One day however was quite different for Greg.

One day Greg, while watering his turnips (Greg does love turnips) heard a scream. Looking out past his farm he saw a young lady in rich gowns running, from a hero! Greg grumbled “Why does this happen around my farm?”

He looked up and saw the lady had tripped, and heard the hero talking of how he would save her and take her to be married! “Well, if she’s not wanting that, that just ain’t right.” Grumbling again

Greg goes back to his turnips before sighing and pick up his ax. Now, while it is a logging ax, it’s still an ax made for an orc, so Greg, for all he has a genial smile and nice demeanor suddenly looks fearsome as he walks down to the lady and the hero.

“Lad, I’ve chased you off my farm before.” The hero, being one of the delusional white knights that just have to have a villain simply attacks…and is promptly dumped on his behind by Greg “Git yerself gone lad, fore ya make me angry. Miss, there’s a house up the way there, you can rest and work out what you wants to be doing.”

Greg sighs and shakes his head “All I want is to be left alone on me own farm, is that too much to ask?” Sighing he turns to the girl, who apparently had fainted at Greg fierce appearance and sighs, hefting her over his shoulder like a sack of unwanted potatoes.

“Damn elves, oh look an orc, he must want to eat me!” He imitates a simpering tone before letting out a guffaw “Humans ain’t much better, but at least some of em are smart enough to not care.”Laughing he carries the young lady up the way safely, trying to not bump her. Sure he could have waited for her to try to save herself, but that wasn’t right, someone needs help ya help em, that’s what Greg thinks anyway.

The next day the lady, the Princess of the realm it seems, wakes up to a large breakfast, including some oversized eggs, a truly large bowl of oatmeal and some fruits. Looking around she thinks at first she is prisoner but the orc is nowhere to be seen. Then she hears a truly horrible singing coming from outside.

“Green and mean I work the land, strong and stout with ho in hand. I’m an orc but I’m ok, I’ll farm my land and say nay to the raid!”

This was a rather ridiculous song, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She looked around and noticed a pair of work pants and a wool shirt on a stool and she looked at her dress. “Well this is a sight isn’t it? Certainly can’t go around in something as nonsensical as a dress!” She thought to herself and laughed again before tying her hair back and working out how to dress herself for once. (Being a noble she tended to, as most nobles do, have complicated outfits, often requiring a rather silly amount of production to get into, or even out of, so this took a rather long time.)

Laughing she heads outside and looks at the orc, who smiles wide, which should be fearsome and would be, if not for the ridiculous straw hat and the large hoe in one hand. “Mornin’ lass! I be Greg, the owner of these ‘ear lands. Help yerself to some rest or whatever ye might be needin’ those heroing types won’t be botherin’ ya ‘ear lass. Ye just think whatever ye need to be thinkin bout through and tell ol’ Greg if ya need any help.”

This gets her to laugh, again. Old for an Orc could mean any number of things, specially if they didn’t go out on raids. Despite what people think Orcs are one of the long lived races, only living a little shorter of a life than an Elf, which is what she is. “I’m Yssa, from the neighboring forest,  someone tried to say my own father sold me out as a bride price, an I don’t believe them but I couldn’t wait for help to come. Then that brute caught up to me somehow an…” She takes a breath and smiles “Would you show me around your farm? Maybe I can help you around here while I work things out.”

Greg nodded and let out a friendly guffaw “Of-course Yssa, ain’t a problem at all! Lets start with the turnips eh? I do love my turnips, best in the land if I say so meself!”

With that Yssa smiled and Greg lead her over to look at his turnip patch, which was a sight to see, as was all his farm really.

After that she learned some of farming, and he learned some of some the bordering countries. (And that his large farm was considered a country of its own according to his neighbors, something he found odd to be sure!) Then they went and had dinner, before going to their rooms for sleep.

They didn’t know it yet but tomorrow would be a busy day. That is however, as they say, another story entirely.

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