A serene ocean wave rolls across the sandy shores of the coast. In a medieval fantasy world, this continent was far off from the rest of it's former piece. Only connected by a boat dock and 30 minutes away.

Inhabited by a bandit tribe of warriors and thieves, the jungles next to the shore were it's most dangerous as hunters and fishermen would lunge their hooks and spears into the water.

It wasn't until their tribal chief came out. A large, green skinned orc. He had long disheveled black hair with very faint white strands and bundles of hair. He wore a long leather belt with tribal robes on the sides of it. Tattoos inked his skin, with his structure of abs and muscle body chiseled like a Greek god.

His light amber eyes looked down upon the new person who washed up to shore, crouching down beside them. His abnormally massive hands, with a bit more sharper nails, went down to the person's wrist.

"How'd this bugger land upon the shore?...Not many come out to this part of Mistral anymore." He spat a bit to the side.