The orcs further up the mountain, stinky though they are, and with questionable taste in biped meat, are friends of sorts with the village. Even the talking baboons have little to say against them. Especially when they come down at Solstice with big grins and lots of special beer (that they make from yak piss and gorse). They are happy fuckers, not a miserable bastard among them. A bit thick on normal measure, but sharper than most.
And they're not fucking elves, the landlords here, patrician twats on horses, all wispy and aristocratic, condescending and disdainful.
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