Monsters for Good

Eight Months Ago, at the lower gate of Owlbear valley, a small group of survivors debate their future.
Princess Lyseu places her delicate white hand on Ortos’ now shaggy forearm. “We can’t go back home. Not looking the way we do.”
Although avoiding looking at her ruined face, the massive Ortos stoops to answer her. “You’re wrong. Although your Father, the King, would be upset, he would make sure you were safe and well cared for.”
“Safe perhaps, but he would lock me away from prying eyes. I would never be free again. You and the Orcs would be killed as monsters and poor Selmars and Gellis would be reduced to begging in the streets”
“What then? Where can we go?”
Selmars and Gelless join them. They are getting quite used to the harness created by the Dwarves. Armless Selmars does the carrying; trucated Gelless does the holding.
“Well we can’t go home looking like this and there’s no point going on to our appointment with the prince. I suppose we could try to make a life here?”
The two Orcs shrug as best they can considering their missing arms. The Broken Lance tribe is no more and no other Orc war camp would take them now. They'd be killed on sight.
Ortos looks at his enormous clawed hands and then he looks at his companions: the piggy backed Selmars and Gelless, the two one armed Orcs and his faceless princess.
“I suppose just because we look like monsters, we don't have to behave like it”