SubjectVision

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

youtube.com/watch?v=Uj8dbFJfVaE

Used joined your channel

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

What a dream. What a bad dream. Yet it wasn't one that he could ever wake from, was it? His hands were smaller. Much smaller, and a whole lot greener. His head was clearer, and his eyes took in the oddly familiar pit around him. He felt as if he should be adapting to his new senses, but it all fit like a glove. Even the budding tusks protruding from his lower lip didn't feel like a bother, and he was confident he could chew on anything as he always had before. The world was so much bigger than before, and the crude settlement looming above him only further impressed this new world he was in.

Mukh. Brood pit. Auguz. Tatzelwurm. Eltwet. All words that he knew despite not knowing them. All sights he was accustomed to despite how new they were. And above them all there was one thing stuck deep within him: Rik. His name. It was the name of the child both nervous and enthusiastic about his first hunt, and the name Federico would heed to whenever spoken. Rik. Federico. Rik. Federico. How odd. He felt like he'd perk up to both, despite how uneasy he'd felt at first. He felt that both his past and present self were now one and whole, memories seamlessly coalescing with one another.

He balled his small, green fist and looked around him to the rest of the runts. All these kids, and he was about the same height as them. Just another child. It was this that made him realize that his old life was behind of him. A sobering thought to have, sure; he still felt some regret over his most recent acts as Federico. But this was a clean slate. A new beginning. A chance to leave the shackles of his brother behind. A chance to prove to himself just how far he could go on his own.

---

Rik moved into the woods from the get go, having chosen an Elwet for his quest. They were about the right size to be wrestled down, and he felt like he'd gain a bit of merit with his elders if he was able to take it down by himself. Who knows, maybe he'd be allowed a sizeable portion later? The thought of some chicken for dinner made his mouth water, and it wasn't that long until he heard those cries. Elwets. They weren't far. His hand went for his rock, gripping it by the blunt side, and he began to stalk through the foliage in the hopes of catching the creatures off guard. It'd be easier to kill them if they never knew he was coming, after all.

Skills

Current Skills:

• Ingestion - After consuming a required amount of biomass from a particular Creature, 1 of that Creature's Skills can be copied at its lowest Rank.
• Aura - Rank I - Reduce damage from physical attacks while burning Magic Power. Stronger attacks will require greater amounts of MP to nullify. At Rank I, damage from non-Skills can be reduced as much as 50%, but Skill-enhanced damage will break the Aura.

Inventory

Equipment and Inventory:

• Swaddling Pelts - Equip, Clothes - Old animal skins used to keep an Orc baby warm as they sleep. Once the Runt is old enough to start hunting, these are usually just enough to cover the parts that need the most covering.
• Wooden Stick - Equip, Weapon/Tool, Material Component - A wooden stick. From a tree. That's...that's all there is to it. Can be thrown.
• Sharp Rock - Equip, Weapon/Tool, Material Component - A rock with a slightly sharp edge. Useful as a primitive knife or chisel. Can be thrown.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

@SubjectVision Very sorry, I somehow missed this when I was glancing through before posting! If you'd like, let me know a short summary of what you had planned and I can tell you what any random encounters, etc, would be so you can include it.

@Zeroth

Not an issue. The plan of action was for Rik to go try and find an Elwet or two after gathering himself from the fact he's now a toddle and without a hangover.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Just popping in quickly to say I'll post tomorrow, sincec today and yesterday have been fairly busy.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Rik

Name (Former): Federico

Name (New): Rik

Current Stats:
Level: 1 | Form: Orc Runt | Tier: 2

Current Skills:

• Ingestion - After consuming a required amount of biomass from a particular Creature, 1 of that Creature's Skills can be copied at its lowest Rank.
• Aura - Rank I - Reduce damage from physical attacks while burning Magic Power. Stronger attacks will require greater amounts of MP to nullify. At Rank I, damage from non-Skills can be reduced as much as 50%, but Skill-enhanced damage will break the Aura.
• Empty Skill Slot
• Empty Skill Slot

Equipment and Inventory:

• Swaddling Pelts - Equip, Clothes - Old animal skins used to keep an Orc baby warm as they sleep. Once the Runt is old enough to start hunting, these are usually just enough to cover the parts that need the most covering.
• Wooden Stick - Equip, Weapon/Tool, Material Component - A wooden stick. From a tree. That's...that's all there is to it. Can be thrown.
• Sharp Rock - Equip, Weapon/Tool, Material Component - A rock with a slightly sharp edge. Useful as a primitive knife or chisel. Can be thrown.

True Age: 52 years, 2 months

Past Life: "You'll never be a man like that". "Big boys don't cry". "Toughen up". Words and phrases that repeated across Federico's childhood, more often than not echoed by the smack of a leather belt that tried to deafen the shout piercing his ears. He was unlucky to be the second son, as everything he did was compared with the standard set by his elder just a year prior. "He didn't need help". "Why can't you be like him?". "You really are useless". He had no hobbies. None that he could call his own, anyway. Like every other kid in the neighborhood, he played football on the dirt of the streets with goals made of shirts and buckets. Unlike his brother, he was left for the near last, given his lack of coordination. He grew out of it, but kids rarely forget these things. "God, you suck". "Why do you keep bringing him along?". "Hey, watch out!". It was a poor neighborhood, so the roads weren't well maintained. And some cars weren't either. There was little time to move out of the street, and he had frozen in place. His brother, though, was better than that.

The beatings stopped, for a time. The shouts went silent. The belt didn't come out anymore. All that remained was quiet, bitter contempt. Resentment. Blame. It was too cruel to be stated, but too present to be ignored. "It's your fault". "Why did it have to be him? Why are we stuck with you?". Any cheer the house might've had disappeared. All that was left was an empty bunk, and an unattainable standard. One that'd loomed over Federico for the rest of his days to come.

Years passed. His grades improved. His performance as well. He was now the first pick for sports. There were girls that had crushes on him. The teachers and parents approved of him. How decent he was. How reliable. What a catch, what a catch. He had a bright future ahead of him. He seemed to have adjusted well after the traged, but that was so far from the truth. It was the tragedy that fueled him. The other's didn't know, but there was always someone better. Someone who'd do better than he was doing now, if he hadn't stayed still that one day.

He got married, after a while. He got a decent job, and was progressing through the corporate ladder. He was amicable. Relatable. A good leader, one who led by example. One who always had a solution for everything. His department was improving. But it could always be better, right? Fernando? We could've saved more. We could've made bigger profits. I missed a bit of salt here. I should've known there'd be an offer around the corner. He lacked joy. He lacked happiness. All that remained within him was the bitter resentment that had pushed him forwards towards success. He knew no other way of living. He hadn't learned any other path. And his wife knew that all it'd take was one misstep.

"Nothing that can be done, Fede". "We'll contact you later in regards to your severance". "I'm sorry. Goodbye". It took only a year. On his way to a promotion, a subordinate made a mistake. He promised to take care of it. He bit much more than he could chew. He should've known better. He should've have dug that deep. He shouldn't have said anything at all. Every company has skeletons in its closet. Good values are bad for business. He had nowhere to go after this. And he knew. He knew, deep in his heart, that Fernando would've known better.

He turned to the bottle. To the slots. To the horses. Why would someone hire a fuck up like him, after all? He was reluctant to step out of misery, finding it more comforting that the ghost of his resentful father. His wife left him, taking their son as well. He knew it was his fault, but what could he do? He had no chance at a future. He didn't deserve it. He had already stolen his from someone far more deserving from it.

Fate soon set to make right when the man himself didn't dare to make the step. Empty bottles littered the table. His stomach grumbled. He turned on the stove. Checked the fridge, and saw he had nothing, and cursed himself under his breath as he hobbled upon a couch. He passed out soon after, unaware of a flame having gone off and the gas seeping through the kitchen as the hours passed. All it took was a single spark for all to be made right again.

To give this man a second chance.
New Life:
Day 1, Orc Runt >

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Posting the sheet to [CHAR], and taking Aura for Rik's isekai skill.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

*wipes sweat from brow* Good Lord please tell me that's everyone?

@Zeroth

:)

Rik

Name (Former): Federico

Name (New): Rik

Current Stats:
Level: 1 | Form: Orc Runt | Tier: 2

Current Skills:

• Ingestion - After consuming a required amount of biomass from a particular Creature, 1 of that Creature's Skills can be copied at its lowest Rank.
• Isekai Skill - Not Yet Chosen
• Empty Skill Slot
• Empty Skill Slot

Equipment and Inventory:

• Swaddling Pelts - Equip, Clothes - Old animal skins used to keep an Orc baby warm as they sleep. Once the Runt is old enough to start hunting, these are usually just enough to cover the parts that need the most covering.
• Wooden Stick - Equip, Weapon/Tool, Material Component - A wooden stick. From a tree. That's...that's all there is to it. Can be thrown.
• Sharp Rock - Equip, Weapon/Tool, Material Component - A rock with a slightly sharp edge. Useful as a primitive knife or chisel. Can be thrown.

True Age: 52 years, 2 months

Past Life: "You'll never be a man like that". "Big boys don't cry". "Toughen up". Words and phrases that repeated across Federico's childhood, more often than not echoed by the smack of a leather belt that tried to deafen the shout piercing his ears. He was unlucky to be the second son, as everything he did was compared with the standard set by his elder just a year prior. "He didn't need help". "Why can't you be like him?". "You really are useless". He had no hobbies. None that he could call his own, anyway. Like every other kid in the neighborhood, he played football on the dirt of the streets with goals made of shirts and buckets. Unlike his brother, he was left for the near last, given his lack of coordination. He grew out of it, but kids rarely forget these things. "God, you suck". "Why do you keep bringing him along?". "Hey, watch out!". It was a poor neighborhood, so the roads weren't well maintained. And some cars weren't either. There was little time to move out of the street, and he had frozen in place. His brother, though, was better than that.

The beatings stopped, for a time. The shouts went silent. The belt didn't come out anymore. All that remained was quiet, bitter contempt. Resentment. Blame. It was too cruel to be stated, but too present to be ignored. "It's your fault". "Why did it have to be him? Why are we stuck with you?". Any cheer the house might've had disappeared. All that was left was an empty bunk, and an unattainable standard. One that'd loomed over Federico for the rest of his days to come.

Years passed. His grades improved. His performance as well. He was now the first pick for sports. There were girls that had crushes on him. The teachers and parents approved of him. How decent he was. How reliable. What a catch, what a catch. He had a bright future ahead of him. He seemed to have adjusted well after the traged, but that was so far from the truth. It was the tragedy that fueled him. The other's didn't know, but there was always someone better. Someone who'd do better than he was doing now, if he hadn't stayed still that one day.

He got married, after a while. He got a decent job, and was progressing through the corporate ladder. He was amicable. Relatable. A good leader, one who led by example. One who always had a solution for everything. His department was improving. But it could always be better, right? Fernando? We could've saved more. We could've made bigger profits. I missed a bit of salt here. I should've known there'd be an offer around the corner. He lacked joy. He lacked happiness. All that remained within him was the bitter resentment that had pushed him forwards towards success. He knew no other way of living. He hadn't learned any other path. And his wife knew that all it'd take was one misstep.

"Nothing that can be done, Fede". "We'll contact you later in regards to your severance". "I'm sorry. Goodbye". It took only a year. On his way to a promotion, a subordinate made a mistake. He promised to take care of it. He bit much more than he could chew. He should've known better. He should've have dug that deep. He shouldn't have said anything at all. Every company has skeletons in its closet. Good values are bad for business. He had nowhere to go after this. And he knew. He knew, deep in his heart, that Fernando would've known better.

He turned to the bottle. To the slots. To the horses. Why would someone hire a fuck up like him, after all? He was reluctant to step out of misery, finding it more comforting that the ghost of his resentful father. His wife left him, taking their son as well. He knew it was his fault, but what could he do? He had no chance at a future. He didn't deserve it. He had already stolen his from someone far more deserving from it.

Fate soon set to make right when the man himself didn't dare to make the step. Empty bottles littered the table. His stomach grumbled. He turned on the stove. Checked the fridge, and saw he had nothing, and cursed himself under his breath as he hobbled upon a couch. He passed out soon after, unaware of a flame having gone off and the gas seeping through the kitchen as the hours passed. All it took was a single spark for all to be made right again.

To give this man a second chance.
New Life:
Day 1, Orc Runt >

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs!?

Happy Easter, mate.

I'm gonna be peeping this.

M.A/I.D: Her Majesty's Assault/Intelligence Division

Subscribed, will see where this goes.

Overlord: Momento Mori

Got some time in my hands and did some changes and additions.

Changelog

• Creator Information

  "Creator" Information: EPurSiMuove - Not unlike Altair herself, EPur, as he was known by, was a person who played with his cards close to his chest. Unlike Altair, however, this was because he was cold and silent like a gravestone; his method of communications were so concise and brief that a wager was established whether he would ever say more than ten words in a single phrase, since he would hardly give any responses other that neutral agreements. A person that generally went with the flow of what was happening, EPur also had a reputation of laziness and scatterbrained thinking, often failing to take in account several elements in the equation and diving headfirst into trouble, events that resulted in disasters that he'd, by sheer luck or miracle, end up unscathed from. These situations, alongside EPurSiMuove's deadpan and unflappable answers when inquired about what happened, made him into a recurring character in some of the most memorable stories of Bandersnatch.
  
  One late night, whilst commenting on the topics of NPCs and the way they could be used, the user known as Kiss My Axe started talking about how useful Kath had been to him ever since she had been created. Legends speak that this caused a mythical phrase to be uttered before the one who spoke it logged off for some time: "huh, sounds nifty". Almost a month and half later of radio silence; after having looked up guides and tutorials; after experimenting time and time again; and after finally succumbing and paying another player to more or less do the job for him, EPurSiMuove reappeared one day, without any warning, with Altair on tow. Defining the end of that wager that had been previously made, he went on to explain that he wanted an NPC to help him "play the game properly", so he had made Altair to be his personal voice of reason and to remind him to put some order in his inventory. As it turned out, she excelled at this task at such a level that EPur allowed others to ask her for help should they need it, something that escalated to the point of him suggestion Altair to take the administrative functions of the guild so that the rest of them could focus on other things.

  
  
  has been changed to
  
  

  Creator Information: EPurSiMuove - Not unlike Altair herself, EPur, as he was known by, was a person who played with his cards close to his chest. Unlike Altair, however, this was because he was cold and silent like a gravestone; his method of communications were so concise and brief that a wager was established whether he would ever say more than ten words in a single phrase, since he would hardly give any responses other that neutral agreements. A person that generally went with the flow of what was happening, EPur also had a reputation of laziness and scatterbrained thinking, often failing to take in account several elements in the equation and diving headfirst into trouble, events that resulted in disasters that he'd, by sheer luck or miracle, end up unscathed from. These situations, alongside EPurSiMuove's deadpan and unflappable answers when inquired about what happened, made him into a recurring character in some of the most memorable stories of Bandersnatch.
  
  One late night, whilst commenting on the topics of NPCs and the way they could be used, the user known as Kiss My Axe started talking about how useful Kath had been to him ever since she had been created. Legends speak that this caused a mythical phrase to be uttered before the one who spoke it logged off for some time: "huh, sounds nifty". Almost a month and half later of radio silence; after having looked up guides and tutorials; after experimenting time and time again; and after finally succumbing and paying Dr.Drd to more or less walk him through the more difficult parts of creating an NPC, EPurSiMuove reappeared one day, without any warning, with Altair on tow. Defining the end of that wager that had been previously made, he went on to explain that he wanted an NPC to help him "play the game properly", so he had made Altair to be his personal voice of reason and to remind him to put some order in his inventory. As it turned out, she excelled at this task at such a level that EPur allowed others to ask her for help should they need it, something that escalated to the point of him suggestion Altair to take the administrative functions of the guild so that the rest of them could focus on other things.

• Appearance

  Appearance has been greatly expanded to:
  
  

  With an elegant dress that leaves fading trails of stardust behind her every step, one would be forgiven for believing Altair belonged to the high-society. This effect is aided by her elven ears and her slender yet glamorous figure, always clad in outfits made of the finest sliks that she could get her hands on. Nevertheless, this is only one facet of the overall visage of the woman.
  Even while she stands a hair's width under five feet and nine inches of height, Altair is made to look much taller than that by the length of her skirts, all made to reach the floor and drag slightly behind of her in order to conceal the fact that she's usually levitating in place a few inches above the floor.
  To top it all off, there are the more visible aspects of Altair: a smooth skin that's as dark, opaque and cool to the touch like a piece of the nightly firmament and a melodious voice that naturally reverberates and echoes, either unaware or uncaring about the acoustics of the room she's in. Finally, underneath her starry veil there are two sharp eyes all in name and function only: two pools of an unfathomable void that'd resemble a sclera, a void which holds a circular, perpetually shifting nebulous cloud that shines in a prismatic array of colours from the star residing in the center of it all; Altair's irises and pupils are far more stellar as the rest of her is made to be.

• Statball

  Stats:
  

  HP: 35
  MP: 100
  PHY. ATK: 20
  PHY. DEF: 20
  AGI: 60
  MAG. ATK: 100
  MAG. DEF: 90
  RESIST: 65
  SPECIAL: 25
  Stat Total: 530

  
  
  has been changed to
  
  

  Stats:
  HP: 35
  MP: 100
  PHY. ATK: 15
  PHY. DEF: 15
  AGI: 60
  MAG. ATK: 100
  MAG. DEF: 90
  RESIST: 60
  SPECIAL: 40
  Stat Total: 530