A Delightful Exercise in Savage Hospitality
by Reverend Dungeon MasterYou’ve wandered into the fetid depths of the Deadwood, a forest named not for its lumber potential but for the high probability that you’ll become mulch. The smell of rot and wet fur heralds your welcome, a signal that you’ve stumbled into the territory of Groggar’s Horde.
These orcs don’t just attack passersby; they curate an experience of misery. The horde is infamous for decorating their camps with the remains of previous guests, and their cookfires reek of recipes no one should replicate.
The forest shifts from merely unpleasant to actively homicidal. Branches claw at your face, the shadows feel heavier than they should, and the air stinks of sweat and blood. You hear them before you see them, a mix of guttural barking and the jangle of mismatched armor.
Then, through the gloom, the horde emerges. Twenty orcs, each uglier than the last, stagger into view. They brandish rusty swords, jagged axes, and the kind of enthusiasm reserved for tavern brawls and tax collectors.
The Orcish Horde
Number Appearing: 20 (or adjust based on party level)
Type: Orcs (Chaotic monsters)
Armor Class: 6 (chainmail and shields scavenged from the unfortunate)
Hit Dice (HD): 1+1 (average 5 HP each)
Movement: 120’ (40’)
THAC0: 19
Attacks: 1 weapon (1d8 for swords or axes, 1d6 for crude clubs)
Morale: 8 (drops to 6 if half their number is killed)
Treasure Type: D (Spoils scavenged from past victims)
XP per Orc: 15
The horde doesn’t do strategy. Their "tactics" involve charging like rabid dogs, screaming obscenities, and attempting to overwhelm you through sheer force of numbers. Here are a few highlights to spice up the chaos:
The Drummer Boy
Behold: the runt of the litter, an orc so scrawny you wonder if he’s been sneaking scraps instead of meals. This one’s found his life’s purpose banging on a drum made from what you can only hope isn’t fresh human skin. Destroy the drum, and nearby orcs suddenly remember they’re terrified of things bigger and stronger than themselves, losing 1 point of Morale. Do they mourn the loss of their favorite rhythm section? Probably not, but the silence will be golden.
The Wild Thrower
Because nothing screams "tactical genius" like a sack full of live rats, this orc winds up and lobs it at the nearest adventurer like he’s auditioning for a medieval baseball league. If the sack hits (THAC0 19), the rats explode out, biting anything that moves. Every round you don’t deal with the rats, they deal with you. Why? Because they’re rats, and that’s their thing. Pro tip: don’t ask how long the orc’s been carrying that sack.
The "Chef"
Every fine-dining experience needs a chef, and this orc takes the title loosely. He carries a cauldron of bubbling, viscous stew that smells like the unholy offspring of despair and old socks. For his big debut, he hurls it at the nearest hero. If it hits (THAC0 19), enjoy the 1d6 scalding damage and a lingering aroma that will have your allies gagging for the next 24 hours. Sure, you survived the attack, but good luck convincing anyone to stand near you until you find a very powerful soap.
Congratulations, heroes! You’ve discovered the cultural pinnacle of orcish society: yelling and stabbing, with a side of horrifying culinary choices. Truly, Groggar’s Horde is a monument to chaos, illiteracy, and poor personal hygiene.
Treasure
Congratulations, intrepid adventurers! You’ve survived the orcish murder parade and now get to sift through their trash for treasures. Here’s what your hard work has earned you:
50 gp worth of coins and shiny trinkets, thoughtfully curated from the pockets of previous victims. Half the coins are sticky, and you don’t want to know why.
A +1 Hand Axe adorned with crude orcish runes, which probably spell out something inspirational like “stab harder.” It smells faintly of rotting meat, but hey, magical is magical.
A Potion of Healing, conveniently half-empty because orcs have the self-control of toddlers at a candy shop. Still works, though. Probably.
A map drawn in blood and charcoal, leading to yet another orc camp. Because clearly, you don’t have enough trauma in your life.
Enjoy your haul and remember: one man’s trash is another man’s slightly less trashy trash!
XP Award
20 Orcs x 15 XP each = 300 XP
Treasure (50 gp + magical items) = 200 XP
Total: 500 XP
The orcs are dead, but don’t pop the champagne just yet. As you and your party attempt to patch yourselves up with whatever scraps of dignity you have left, the forest decides it’s not done being extra. The trees groan like they’ve got arthritis, the shadows get all handsy, and somewhere in the distance, a laugh echoes, deep, guttural, and about two steps away from saying, “You’re next.”
Congratulations! You’ve survived the appetizer. Now get ready for the main course. That's you.
