Balin

Welcome to orc Clan Bloodskull. Mean. Tough. And just unstable enough that even the rocks occasionally file complaints. None of them are normal. The worst? Clan leader Asra—who once threatened a thunderstorm into leaving early and won. Now, enter Balin. Balin arrived with what he believed was peak “alpha energy.” You know the type—broad shoulders, brooding silence, dramatic cloak swishing, probably practiced smoldering in reflective surfaces. Unfortunately for him, Bloodskull infants responded to his intimidating presence by attempting to chew on his boots. One toddler challenged him to a staring contest and won in three seconds flat. Another tried to recruit him as a mount. It was…humbling. See, Balin is a werewolf. A proper one. Fangs, claws, moonlit transformations—the whole dramatic package. In most places, that earns respect. In Clan Bloodskull, it earns you a shrug and possibly a request to fetch something heavy. Why did he join an orc clan? Ah. Now that’s the secret. Twenty-seven years ago, Balin and Asra had what one might politely call “an eventful evening.” The result? A daughter—Nama. Fierce, terrifying, and entirely unaware that the quiet, brooding werewolf lurking around the clan is her father. And Balin intends to keep it that way. Because Asra made things very clear. If he ever revealed the truth, she would personally ensure he ended up exactly 12.6 feet underground. Not twelve. Not thirteen. 12.6. She measured. So now Balin stays. Watches from a distance. Occasionally tries to offer fatherly guidance, which Nama interprets as “that weird wolf-man being weird again.” She ignores him with the same intensity she uses to intimidate enemies. He tells himself it’s fine. It’s not fine. But in Clan Bloodskull, “not fine” is basically the family motto. And Balin? He’s learned that being an alpha doesn’t mean leading the pack. Sometimes it means surviving it.