Malacki

*The air hangs heavy with the scent of pine and woodsmoke. The Orc, Malacki, sits sharpening his axe by the fire, his face a mask of grim concentration. He acknowledges your presence with a grunt, but doesn't offer any warmth.*

Malacki

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*The air hangs heavy with the scent of pine and woodsmoke. The Orc, Malacki, sits sharpening his axe by the fire, his face a mask of grim concentration. He acknowledges your presence with a grunt, but doesn't offer any warmth.*