The Redfang Orcs

Blood, Stone, and the Bronthok

The Redfang orcs were born on the high red shelves south and east of the Varnhollow cliffs. The Bronthok Reaches are steep, dry, and loud with echo. Wind threads the gullies. Storms stain the rock white and black around hot springs. Thin soil holds thornbrush and salt grass where goats can climb. Old ley seams run under the stone. Some push green crystal to the surface and make the air taste sharp. Others sink and twist rites until a steady casting in Naath turns weak or fails. The Wardens of Rootwatch call the Reaches unstable ground and mark the worst mouths with skull-cairns and cut signs. Here the Redfang learned to last. They build into cliff mouths and ledges with scrap iron, bone, and timber taken in raids or dug from old posts. Their holds stand because the ground would kill any people who did not test each step and fix each wall with care.

They do not claim the whole belt without challenge. To the west, the Skeliri hang their web lines over chasms and guard old tunnels with hard rules. To the north, giants sometimes push down from the Hulderhorns and strip valleys bare. To the south and east, the low edge meets Verdwood trails that carry water and trade. The Redfang strike into those trails and then slip back up into the shelves before massed force can climb. They leave marks burned into rock by scouts: tolls due, blood-prices owed, routes closed. These marks change when a chieftain dies or a band breaks. Seekers bring rubbings of those changes to Ezra’s boards because a single cut line can decide who lives to complain to the Merchant Guild and who does not.

Redfang speech fits the land. It is short and hard. Oaths are simple. A promise made in front of a shaman is kept or a price is paid at once. When a band speaks to outsiders, they take hostages, set shard oaths, or demand full payment in iron, salt, goats, or leather on the spot. They are dangerous and brutal, and their mercy is brief. Yet they can be dealt with if the offer is clear, the cost is present, and the route out is not a lie. This is the small edge that makes them easier to face than the Skeliri. It is not kindness. It is a habit of trade that keeps a hard people from starving in a hard place.

Warpaths, Strongholds, and Tactics

Roads in the Reaches are lines of habit held together by rope pins and drum patterns. Three-Ledge Way climbs out of the Verdwood along three shelves cut with notches and sign pits. It enters a toll ledge where Redfang drums speak before anyone moves. Thunderpath Gorge runs through the center. The wind turns it into a horn. Scouts shift along its shadows and signal with stones and cuts in the wall. Side cuts lead to Skorvul Crag, a rally camp that supports raids into the low shelves. From that ledge, chieftains can see the central passes and send runners to close or open routes in a day. The Shattered Warden Outpost sits on a spur that once watched ley surges and counted campfires. The Redfang took it during a storm season, and pieces of the old maps still cling to its walls under grime.

Skorvul Crag is the iron heart of Redfang war. Rough barracks line a wide ledge. A pit ringed with stones takes sparring and execution both. Meat and leather hang from racks under black smoke. Forge pits burn dirty and hot. Runners come and go with orders: seal a path, bait a caravan, break a snare line that could drag raids into the Verdwood and draw Wardens too high. The Shattered Warden Outpost stores trap gear, spare weapons, and rope. When the light hits two cells just right, green lines on the walls show how power once moved under the shelves. The Redfang use those hints to judge when a seam is calm enough to set fires or weak enough to bring a fall.

Their tactics are simple and cruel. They collapse ledges onto marching columns. They cut rope bridges only after the rear has crossed so the front runs into a dead end. They choke passes with dung-smoke and drive prey into kill pockets marked by notches no outsider will read in time. Drums carry calls along the stone. Whistles fix timing across gaps. Scouts count steps and mark kill zones with small chips that only make sense up close. Fire is for breaking will, not for show. Smoke is for blinding, not for banners. They strip bodies fast and vanish before a larger force can climb. Against giants, they step aside or bait a rival into the path and close the way behind. Against Skeliri traps, they send goats and thralls ahead and pull back if the web holds too tight.

Season shapes war. Spring loosens shelves and opens side paths that do not exist in winter. Rockfall and melt cut routes in an hour. Summer brings trade to borders and raids to low trails. Autumn calls for cross-ridge runs before storms seal the high ways. Winter drives bands into caves and strongholds. Avalanches erase months of work. Through all of it, the Redfang keep watch on Thunderpath and the toll ledges. A few gaps remain open for messengers who know the marks and can show proof on the spot. The Wardens learn those gaps by blood and keep them off public boards. The Seekers sell the same knowledge to people who can pay and keep quiet.

Deals, Feuds, and the Wider Balance

The Redfang hold the Bronthok by fear and motion, but they cannot ignore neighbors. The Naath Council sets policy for Wardens and Lorekeepers and pays for border work. The Wardens rebuild cairns, cut down traps near the tree line, mark storm cuts, and burn goblin nests that creep into low shrines. They avoid deep runs unless a Seeker charter or a Council writ leaves them no choice. The Merchant Guild posts rope pins, funds guide posts, and offers rescue bounties. Its law does not carry into the high shelves. Deals are written in simple lines, backed by goods or blood. The Lorekeepers test seams, gather green crystal under strict rule, and warn when the air stings in caves. They speak softly at Vrahn-Ur Hearth when given leave, which is rare.

The Seekers go where coin and need send them. They escort carts to the last safe ledge, run hostage exchanges, pull lost runners out of gullies, and cut snare lines that threaten low routes. Some Seekers know Redfang ways well enough to live. Most hire ridge guides and pay in iron or leather rather than coin. Hostage trades use shard oaths. A shard takes a stain when an oath is broken. Shamans can read that stain. This keeps grudges from boiling over when a season runs thin. It is not peace. It is a tool that saves bodies that would be hard to replace.

The Redfang do not love the Skeliri, but they dislike long war with them more. The border with Varnhollow is a cliff and a web line. A few bands trade silk for bone saws and resin in cold seasons. They keep a tight watch and stand ready to cut rope at the first wrong touch. Skeliri agents sometimes try to hire Redfang to make noise on a ledge while web-walkers set a trap elsewhere. Some chieftains take this work for short coin and then vanish for a year to let anger cool. Others kill the messenger and hang the body as a warning at the lip of Thunderpath. Each choice is counted and remembered.

The Lake-Wardens of Selenmere do not climb this high, but their storm warnings pass to Ezra’s and then to ridge boards. The Redfang do not trust lake folk, yet they watch those marks. A sealed pass at the wrong time can bury a band and the goats with them. Giants from the Hulderhorns still push south in bad years. When they come, the Redfang pull the young and the old into caves and let the storm pass through weaker bands or rival ledges. After, they hunt the stragglers and strip meat and hide. It is a hard balance and a cold one, but it keeps the clan alive.

Sites in the Reaches hold weight in these dealings. The Echo Nest hums with wrong-order sound and rattles weak minds. The Cracked Shrine of Kol-Daraz sits by a narrow pass with half a roof and carvings rubbed flat by hand and weather. Elders use it for names and grief before a campaign. The Howlstone Spring keeps the one clean rule that even rivals respect. The Shattered Warden Outpost whispers old maps to eyes that know when to look. Vrahn-Ur Hearth still draws elders and shamans who remember a larger name than a single band. When those elders meet, feuds quiet for a day or a night, and roads open that would be closed at any other time.

The Redfang are always dangerous and often cruel. They are rarely reasonable, and when they are, it is by their measure and on their ground. Still, they are not a secret order or a silent city. They live where a body must act fast, pay debts, and keep a camp alive against stone, storm, and hunger. When parley is the only path, they will take it if it brings iron, salt, and time to repair a wall before winter. When parley fails, they cut ropes, drop ledges, and take what they can carry. The Wardens plan around this. The Seekers price it. The Council tries not to make promises the Reaches will break. This is the shape of the balance for now.