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Introduction "Moyishu crept through the scraggily underbrush, slowly approaching the top of the knoll. He could smell the stag, and knew it could not smell him. He lifted his spear, aiming down his arm like his father had shown him many times before. His heart thundered in his chest, providing a rhythmic background to keep his pace even. With only his ears over the top of the knoll, he heard the stag chewing.
"To his left, he heard the snap of branches. The Stag froze momentarily, perked his ears, and bolted. The noise from the brush continued to approach, making no effort to conceal its presence. The wind shifted and he caught the foul scent of Orc. The savage had wandered out of the hills, into the Flietch-ta Empire, and scared away Moyishu's dinner. The young Flind swore under his breath, and turned slowly, aiming by sound and scent alone. The Orc, although tougher than The Stag and not nearly as tasty, would prove a more difficult kill. He tensed his legs, and pushed forward as he hurled the spear at the hidden Orc. "The spear shattered bones and the bush exploded in red. Moyishu quickly grabbed his battle axe and swung it in a slow arc, approaching the flailing Orc. Everything stopped for a second, and then the Orc, with the broken shaft of the spear still protruding from his stomach, exploded form the bushes. He stood over a foot taller than Moyishu and must have outweighed him by two hundred pounds. The Orc snarled and spat at the young Flind. The two squared off, the Flind's axe moving with slow practice, and the Orc's sword hacking wildly at both the Flind and the nearby brush. With a sudden lunge, the Orc stabbed Moyishu in the leg, but as he stumbled, the young Flind brought his axe down, cutting clean through the Orc's neck. "Bathed in blood, Moyishu grinned. He calmly tore off a bit of cloth from the Orc's rag tag outfit, tied off his own wound, and lifted over his shoulders. His family would be pleased. He kicked the Orc's head down the hillside, and headed for home." Physical Description 
Flinds stand over six feet tall, often times reaching past seven. Although strong, they do not have the massive build of an Orc or Khadra. Instead their muscles wind tightly around their more human-like frame. Their hair, which covers their entire body, is short, rather coarse and bristly. Generally, Flinds are brownish, grayish, or a ruddy red. Due to some strange ecological tendency, however, fifty Flinds, at any given time, will have snowy white and midnight black fur, marking them as Justicars. When one such Flind dies, another is always born with similar markings shortly thereafter. They have human looking bodies, except for the fur, but their heads resemble that of a wolf's. Large teeth, in particular the canines, protrude over the edge of their black lips. Their eyes, set in the front, like a human's, are large and golden or brown in color. Their ears, set atop their heads, resemble a dog's very closely, with a triangular shape and the extra tuft of long hair. Their noses, although not as long as that of a wolf, do protrude noticeably from their face and come to a definite snout. During the warmer months, Flinds will wear loose fitting linen and cotton trousers and shirts. The climate of their home is, however, generally cold. As such, they prefer furs, often complete with the head of the animal stretched over their own as a hat. They wealthier the Flind, the higher the quality of fur. Small animals, such as mink and ermine are sown together, often matched with a bear pelt for the hood. More common outfits are those of wolves, bear, and moose. Personality and Morality
Flinds have a strange sense of honor. For a Flind, deception is always vile when discovered, and usually unsavory when successful. They believe in a system of law and justice where honor is often define by might. A Flind who beats another, may take his belongings. Challenges between Flinds are common, but another Flind may willingly take the place of the challenged, serving as his champion. Such champions rarely lose, so powerful Flinds generally keep several on retainer. As a result, they find themselves somewhat above the moral and legal structure of society. To solve this problem, Flinds have Justicars. Mighty warriors with skills in stealth, Justicars often sneak into a law breakers house and challenge them privately. They serve as judges and punishers, keeping true to their motto, "I am the law." Punishment, when it is not death, is usually dismemberment and/or branding.
Flinds are a stern people, often seen by outsiders as having little or no sense of humor. Everything seems so serious to them. They do however, find time to enjoy themselves. They hunt religiously, and the test of a young Flind is always a hunt, usually of a bear or similarly large and nasty creature. Entertaining of a guest generally involves a hunt. Some Flinds, who live near the Orc lands, hunt them for sport. Most Flinds hunt with melee or hand hurled weapons. The most important part of the hunt, next to the skill of the hunter, is the feast that follows. Flinds do not cook their meat. They find cooked flesh disgusting. Eating dinner with a group of Flinds generally nauseates most people. Flinds supplement their diet with potatoes, and when game is scarce, will consent to a few vegetables, although they have difficulty digesting them. Flinds do not believe in gods or religion like other races. Instead, they believe in a sort of spirituality of the soul. Each soul must strive to keep itself pure. A pure soul requires a pure body. They seek perfect in mind, body and spirit, although some to a greater extent than others. They believe in ancestral respect and wisdom, but not worship. It is not uncommon for a Flind to meditate on the grave of his grandfathers for hours in an effort to cleanse his soul and solve a problem. Racial Charts
Racial Relations
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"The Stag froze momentarily, perked his ears, and bolted. The noise from the brush continued to approach, making no effort to conceal its presence. The wind shifted and he caught the foul scent of Orc."