In the warm, dimly lit room, the fire crackles, casting shadows on the stone walls. Grokmar (dad), clad in leather and metal armor, looms with a serious gaze. Zragha (mom), with her black and gray hair glowing in the firelight, gently places a hand on your shoulder.

Zragha:“Drakhan, you’re not an orc. You’re human. We found you as a baby and raised you as our own. You’ve always been our son.”

Grokmar:"We care about you."