Dinner With Orcs (Eloquentsin and Sabre)

[Sabre]

The Orcish people had been pushed out of the green lands long ago by a coalition of elves, dwarves, and humans. Falling back before the host of enemies brought against them they ended up in a massive inhospitable southern land known as the Scar. Back then no one dared enter it let alone knew how to navigate it. Several centuries later now the Scar is their home and although dangerous and inhospitable they know how to navigate and survive in the harsh environment. Spread out across the Scar are a number of different clans of Orcs, one of these being the mountain clan of the far western mountain range. The Mountain clan's name in Orcish is Jykt Tro Val which very loosely translated means fearless ghosts. They earned this name over the years because the mountains they inhabit are particularly hard to navigate and almost constantly covered in a hazy fog. Whenever their enemies had dared enter the range in the past they would have a hard time navigating and would be hit repetitively by raids from the mountain clan. The clan had become feared and honored after many great victories over men, elves, and orcs alike. In the hierarchy of the Orcish clans the mountain clan was second, only behind that of the largest clan that inhabited the dessert. All of the clans because of their low resources in the scar were forced to raid to keep their people fed. The Scar bordered several nations, but the one that bordered most of the mountain range to the North had a new queen and the Orcs of the other clans were already raiding her territory from the foot of the mountain, but thus far the mountain clan had not attacked.



The leader of the mountain clan was a huge orc named Balrook that hid his intelligence behind his terrifying stature. While the other Orcish clans saw an opportunity for a quick pay out in raiding the young monarch's new territory Balrook saw an opportunity to escape the Scar. He had sent out scouts to spy on the villages to the North of the Mountains and pick two that were particularly undefended. Over the course of the night he had taken over both of them with minimal bloodshed, using his ghost's stealth skills both villages had been taken with only one man killed. It wasn't ideal as he was trying to make peace, but the man refused to lay down his weapon, preferring to die fighting. Once the villages were taken he had the entire population of both gathered in their respective city centers and he addressed the populations individually. They were to go to their new queen and tell her he had a deal to make with her and she was to meet him in one of the villages in two fortnights time. To emphasize his point he slammed his massive serrated blade into the ground making a ringing impact and leaving a small crater. After that the people were let free and after two days the ghosts faded back into the mountains, only leaving a few to scout the countryside for the queen or a messenger.

—

The craters edge crunches and crumbles away under the foot of a great antlered beast, forcing it to step back as soon as it’s lady dismounts. Her crown bears a heavy weight yet does nothing to settle the shock of copper hair as it whips in the wind. She stands out here, a thread of warmth and flame contrasting against the frozen landscape and ever growing chill.

“My lady- you could of- we could-“ of course theres someone next to her, it would have been foolish to come alone. So a great magi, a gentlemen older than her but not quite an elder, stands at her side gesturing and stuttering with desperation. “I know we sent the scouts ahead to announce your arrival and they came back fine, but this could be a trap! You should have sent one of the generals or your tactician to gauge the offer, or- or- it’s not too late to turn ba-“ he’s cut off by the look she gives him, gaze as pointed and icy as the land they stand on.

“Are you questioning my decision, advisor?” And he gulps, because she’s thrice as fearsome as her mother. He bites his tongue of any more protests. “No my lady.”
She brought him for a reason, not to protect— she can do that plenty herself, but because she trusts him to fall in line. Her youngest adviser, Hossir, has never had much of a backbone.

The was a small band of soldiers and scouts that traveled with Queen Solana from her comfortable capital all the way out to this frigid border town. There was, after all, a small chance that this was a trap. She doubted after hearing the messages and news from the town after it was attacked, setting it up this way didn’t make much sense- especially when her countrymen had already been -mostly- trying to avoid conflict with the neighboring orcs while she attempted to work out a treaty. Not that the whole treaty business had been working, like at all, considering there was generally no hesitancy from the Orcs to attack on site. Until now, from a clan she’d never even heard until she went through her mother’s archives.

Her soldiers stood back at her behest, taking up residence on the outskirts of the village. They were already popping their tents and setting camp, ready to cook dinner by the look of the rising stacks of smoke.
“Hossir, did you give my order too bring quadruple the standard amount of preserved elk?”
“Yes, my lady. Your men were surprised we would be staying so long.”
“We won’t be.”
“Then why-?”
“Orcs like meat.”
“So you intend to bargain with it.”
“No, we are going to share our next meal with them.”
Hossir’s jaw drops, his panicked gasp practically echoing against the fresh snow around them. “Dinner with Orcs!?!” And he clutched at his stuttering heart,
expression aghast, as if he’d just seen a ghost.
Solana visibly expresses more annoyance than concern as her advisor temporarily loses conscienceness and falls to the ground at her feet.

 

[eloquentsin]

At the foot of the mountains a small group of orcs looked out towards the party of elves. One of them lifted a large horn and blew a low long note. Five orcish riders appear out of the fog at the base of the mountain range. Four of them are riding large wolves often called wargs and the fifth is riding what appears to be a giant mountain lion the color of midnight with incisors that curl down out of its mouth. The four on wargs are heavily armored but the only weapons they carry are flags of an off-white color. They ride up front while the final orc brings up the rear.

The party came within throwing distance of the camp and waited for someone to approach. It was counterintuitive for them to carry peace flags and no weapons. Most of the orcs felt naked and protested their leaders decision to have them come unarmed. Balrook dismounted from his feline steed whose species loosely translated to night stalker and walked out in front of the rest of his party. This plan to ally with the neighboring elves was a gamble at best as relations between the two nations had always been hostile. Balrook been determined to make his plan of creating a great orcish nation succeed ever since he had taken up his father's mantle. He hadn't been ready when he had first become chief, and it had taken years to solidify his place as leader amongst the headstrong mountain clan. Now Balrook had a firm power base set up and the neighboring elves has been searching for allies. It was the perfect time to show his hand a little and hopefully come one step closer to a civilized nation of orcs. Ballrook was the only one armed carrying a huge sword at his hip that was crudely made and had a mean serrated look to it. The orcish leader also varied from the rest of his party in that he was much more lightly armored than the rest. Around his waist was a set of leather and metal Pteruges his chest was bare revealing scars and tattoos across it and around his shoulders hung a thick cloak of fur. To the orcs this would be almost like formal dresswear whereas the others were all decked out in overlapping plates of dark gray almost black armor.

Balrook was painfully aware of how barbaric they must look to the dignified and noble elves, but there wasnt much he could do as he waited for the elven monarch to approach. He felt nervous knowing that this was the best chance his people had of improving their quality of life. The lands they currently stood in were far greener than any within the borders of the scar including his rocky home within the mountains. Balrook also knew that even if he should secure land of this quality than an even bigger task would be placed on him. Convincing orcs to settled down and become farmers would be a hellacious task, but on that was neccisary to feed them in the years to come. He had many plans for his ghosts, and all of them would probably face opposition amongst his advisors and subjects.

 

[Sabre]

Goose bumps prickle down Solana’s back at the sound of the Orcs arrival, that horn sending the winter chill straight to her bones. When they ride into view the sight of them makes her mouth go dry. She’s never seen them with her own eyes. She’s seen depictions, drawings, a half thousand scrolls of them for sure- but none of those do them justice. Her eyes leave them for only a second as she leans down and drags her advisor up by his collar.

“Hossir-“ he gains consciousness quickly, but remains looking dazed and murmuring incoherently, so she smacks him lightly on the cheek a few times until his eyes focus on her again. “-I need you to go back to the camp and tell the men to prepare those elk and plenty of seating for bodies much heavier than our own.”
She taps his some more, until he finally responds. “Yes- yes, but if they don’t want-“ and she shuts him down with a roll of her eyes. Her patience with him is growing so thin he can here it in her voice. “Then we’ll feed the villagers. Now GO!” She slaps him on his hip, much like you’d slap a horse to get it moving, and he’s off like a shot. Hossir is the most undignified looking elf in the kingdom as he flails and flees back to the makeshift camp.

When Solana turns back to the band of Orcs they have paused not far from her, their leader, Balrook, she assumes, disembarks his exotic mount. Her stomach twists with nausea and nervousness as she takes them in. They are absolutely massive compared to her people. The dark armor is impressive and intimidating, even Balrook in what she thinks is orcish formalwear is thrice armored as her.

She wears little more than a silken white dress and a cloak of silver and white fur wrapped around her to shield against the cold. Her penchant for fanfare is significantly less than that of her predecessors, considering the absence of hanging crystals and fine metals and the ridiculous amount of jewelry elves customarily wear to any sort of political event. She carries no weapons, she does not need to. Her magic hangs around her and glows faintly behind her eyes, sticking to her in a layer of energy that would feel oppressive to those not familiar with it.

The magic builds in her chest as she steps towards them, swelling to protect her but never arcing or crackling with aggression. The cloak she wears drags in the snow, the enchantment on it melting the flakes that try and stick. Her face stills into an expression of cool neutrality, stifling her nervousness and all of her doubt down as far as she can possibly swallow it.
“Chief Balrook, I am Queen Solana, here at your behest. My men are nearby, and they have sworn to me that you will befall no violence, so long as I remain unharmed.”
She stops a mere ten feet from him, making no move to bow but not expecting him to either. She looks quite small and vulnerable standing all by herself, and that alone is telling of the desperate situation her kingdom must be in even if she tries to it close to her chest.

She steps closer and closer to him, until she has to crane her neck to look at him with those ice blue eyes. She thinks all the hair on her body stands on end, but she ignores it. “My men are preparing a modest feast of elk, potato, and radish-“ her elegant hand slips out from the confines of her heavy cloak, gesturing in the direction of the tents and stacks of smoke behind them. “- and I would be honored to have yourself, and your band, join us. We can discuss the deal proposed in your messages over the meal.”
Her heart hammers as she does something bold and questionably uncustomary, moving forward and crossing to his right, coming to stand beside him. If he agrees to go with her she keeps careful pace beside him so that they enter the camp as equals. It’s an action that has great meaning to the elves, but whether it’s interpreted with the same weight by the Orcs remains to be said.

 

[eloquentsin]

Balrook gazed at the queen as she sent her subordinate scurrying and he couldn't help, but smile. At least the elf had some fire in her to perhaps gain some respect from his people. The large orc hadn't expected her to walk right up to them, and as her power could be felt due to her proximity his slight hope was dampened. Orcs didn't trust magic and the others with him were spooked a bit, and their mounts were as well as the wargs shifted back away from her before being steadied by their riders. It wasn't really a bigoted reaction, more so one born of necessity. Although Orcs often had the ability to perform magic they didn't usually have the education on the subject to effectively use it, and this resulted in dangerous malpractice. Orc shamans were often feared and in some tribes killed for their magic. That fact coupled with the fact that Orcs had usually been on the receiving end of dangerous magic used by other races made them extremely wary. Balrook and his mount appeared unfazed, but they could clearly feel the power emanating off of her as well. The big brute looked her up and down with his eyes of glowing orange before answering. "We will join you! There is much to discuss, and I hope this feast brings about an era of peace and cooperation between our people."

Balrook was thrown off by the way she simply approached and took a place beside him, and was enchanted by her confidence. There seemed to be no disdain for his race that was so common amongst all the civilized species. Balrook and the other orcs were totally oblivious to any sort of meaning behind the fact that she walked next to him, other than possibly a suggestion of comfort or familiarity between the two. The other orcs dismounted uttering Orcish commands to their wolven mounts to make them stay nearby. Each orc planted their white flag into the ground and followed the two leaders. They must have made quite the impression on any who saw them. Five massive orcs with one female elf wasn't usually a diplomatic sort of situation.

While they walked Balrook spoke with sincerity. "Queen Solana, it is a relief that you came to meet me. I must be honest with you I need something from you, and I also have something to offer you." Balrook also new that should the meeting not go as planned he would also have to give her some terrible news. In just the short few moments of their introduction he had already taken a liking to the pointy eared woman, and he was loathe to sour things with her. His poor news would have to wait until they had built some rapport with each other before he would unveil it. "I would prefer if I presented my proposal in private, with neither my men or yours present...." The orc trailed of for a moment before continuing. "There are some parts of my proposal that might inflame members of either side."

 

[Sabre]

Solana briefly noted the shifting of Balrook’s band, filing it away as they walked. Being uncomfortable with magic is something she would now need to be mindful of, which might prove difficult. All elves had varying degrees of magic, some considerably more gifted than others. Herself and most of the highborn were trained to their utmost potential, while village folk and those outside the capitol were often self taught or attended less intensive schools. Still, the feel of their magic was— pervasive, no matter where they went in her country. It wasn’t exactly something she could turn off, just dampen, which was giving her trouble while in this rather intense meeting.

Perhaps the orcs didn’t see the implications of Solana walking beside Balrook, but her men sure did. Everyone in lesser stations than the queen was expected to follow at least two steps behind, so by keeping pace she presented that he was her equal by being king of his people and deserving respect. It was a right her father had never afforded the human nobles he met with.

When they entered the camp of a group of thirty plus Hossir, who had been fretting over maker knows what, looked up at them. They were silent for a fraction of a second, frozen in time save for the crackle of the fire and blistering of fat on the nearly done elk. Then those who were sitting stood and in unison they bowed at the waist.

She quickly inspected them, appraising the healthy variety of expressions. Some of her younger soldiers looked as they were about to piss themselves, but some men were also entirely unfazed- or perhaps just really good at hiding their emotions, and other looked noticeably disgruntled. They’d done as she asked, preparing six elk instead of two and filling multiple metal roasting boxes of potato and vegetables. They’d also set up multiple large logs beside the three fires they created, ensuring plenty of durable seating.
“Thank you for abiding my wishes, now please be seated.”
They did as she said, all except for Hossir who promptly came scrambling over. She stopped him with a pointed gesture. “No.”
He froze, unsure of what to do before she turned and directed him to the four orcs behind her. “Be a good host. Seat Balrook’s men around the flame and introduce them to some of my more seasoned soldiers, but tell them no party tricks.”
For once, he didn’t protest. Or if he did she didn’t hear him.

Solana refocuses all of her attention back on Balrook then. Ice blue eyes meeting glowing orange as she folds her hands back under her cloak. “I- am glad that you reached out. I’ve tried in the past, but only ever met resistance, so much that being here now is quite surreal, I must admit.” Her voice is a little lighter now and the stillness of her face falters, a flicker of sincerity shining through.

What he says next gives her pause. Her eyes flick to her tent, larger than the others, circular and draped in white and gold metallic cloth instead of silver. She swallows, because despite appearances she is at least a little scared even though he’s proven true to his spoken intentions thus far. A beat passes as she remembers her father droning on in her ear about procedure, about requesting and granting guarded audiences and then about traditions. Then in that same beat she remembers he’d ruled the kingdom for over seven hundred years and never accomplished anything but further fostering the divide between the old elven houses.

She makes up her mind. “Of course, I understand. My tent will provide plenty discretion.” Then she leads him to it and pushes aside the fine cloth of the door he will definitely have to duck under. Elves are.. excessive, over the top, about just about everything, and if that wasn’t clear already it’s made very clear by the finery in her tent or the way it seems so much bigger on the inside than in the outside. The air is permeated with her particular blend of magic, like it’s built the furniture inside and possibly the tent itself. There is a table with a map and a variety of bottles and books on it, a bed off to the side, a pile of cushions and fabric that look every bit like a nest, and a bench. The odd thing is that all of her furniture is grown, rather than actually built, made of sturdy living trees and vines that have been bent to her will.

She sits, leaving plenty of room on the long bench in case he intends to do the same. “I’m listening.” She has plenty to ask of her own, but she waits for now, trying to get a peek at his hand before laying down her own cards. Perhaps everything will align more in her favor than she expects.

 

[eloquentsin]

His unit of bodyguards were leery to part with him, but once they tasted the food they were placated. Food was scarce in the scar, and she had brought more than plenty for them to engorge themselves with. Balrook followed the elven monarch into her tent, ducking low to fit inside the cloth door. The room was gorgeous and Balrook was again reminded why he like the elves so much. Unlike the humans and dwarves the elves strove to not only protect nature, but also to nurture it. There were other Orcish tribes that took any resource they could from the land, but the ghosts in the mountains preferred to take only what was needed, and preserve anything they could.

Balrook breathed in anticipating the large amount of talking he was about to do and began to speak. "I will start with what I need from you. My people will soon be starving, there simply isn't enough food in our home of stone to sustain us. Normally when this happens Orcs set out to take whatever they can from the other races. This solves the problem because if the raid succeeds they are tided over until the next raid, and if the raid fails it reduces the population making less mouths to feed. It also creates more problems, and animosity between the races. I propose we make an exchange. You give us green land to raise livestock, and our two races begin to trade my people will gladly pay more than you would otherwise get for you surplus crops. In return my people the Jykt Tro Val shall ally with you in your current wars and wars to come. In the long run I want there to be an Orcish nation here in the southern part of the continent that is recognized and revered by the other species. For too long orcs have allowed themselves to be the dumb brutish scourge for the other nations to demonize. With your help I want to lead my people into a golden age. You need allies, more than you are even aware of, and I am willing to provide that."

Balrook's thick accent that would have made him sound less intelligent to most elves, men and dwarves trailed off. He was clearly more educated than the average orc, using terms like golden age and sustain was unusual for an orc as the tongue they currently conversed in was usually a second language. The final sentence he uttered worried him. He did not want to come off too aggressive, but at the same time he needed her to understand that despite his desires if this meeting turned out going poorly they could easily end up as enemies.

 

[Sabre]

Solana listens intently to Balrook, so focused her lips are parted and she’s perhaps a little too intense with her eye contact. But she’s understanding of his words and trying to dig through the layers behind them. There aren’t many. When he finishes his proposal there is a silence that stretches as she thinks, and then suddenly that mask she’s so use to wearing splits wide open when she smiles. She lights up, a little figuratively, a little literally too. “Your straight forwardness is refreshing.” She wants to comment on his out of place outspokenness too, but hold her tongue when she realizes saying so might be more insulting than flattering.

Then she turns a little more, shifting and eventually crossing her legs to get more comfortable. She about to do quite a bit of talking too. “I am aware that I need allies, more so than my political opponents or my father ever deemed to recognize in their short-sightedness. In Ovor’nín, we have an abundance of everything but ourselves. Due to a combination of low birth rate, orcish raiders, and the ongoing skirmishes with the humans- it’s like I’m missing an entire generation of my people. Now the majority of the elves are too old to fight or too young to care. We are in desperate need of strong men and women to fill that void, both as warriors and to continue growth of our economy.”

Solana’s hands fiddle with the clasp at her neck, unlatching her heavy cloak from her shoulders so that it pools on the bench behind her. Her dress is, oddly enough, sleeveless and has a high rigidly collard neck. The simple garb is perfectly modest while still lending credence to the strong and somewhat muscular curves underneath. She stands abruptly and goes to the map on her table. It’s a strange, magical sort of thing- the rivers flowing, trees swaying, under her fingertips as if they are alive.

“Here-“ and she points to a large swath of trees along a river that goes straight to the capitol. “-there is a stretch of land, about eight hundred acres, that is largely uninhabited by my people. I will need to smooth it over with the closest villages, because they do use the outlying forests as hunting grounds- but I think that it would provide a good starting point or foundation for your people inside Ovor’nín. The Soran river runs right through it, bends around the capitol and then flows out towards the ocean.” She taps the map a few times, until the land is outlined by a dotted red line. Then she looks back up to him. “I think- I think that could work. We will still need to attend the capitol, smooth out the details, meet with my advisers and draw up plans..” she sighs, reaches up draws her hand through her wild hair. “I am expecting some push back, of course. We both stand a lot to gain. Do you hold any sway with the other orcish clans that could lead to them eventually allying with us as well? It would help, but I do not know your people’s political structure well enough to know if that’s feasible.”

 

[eloquentsin]

Balrook was taken aback by the way she seemed to shine. The woman he had began talking to was gorgeous by any account, but at the end of his monologue her face lit up and he became aware of a whole new level of beauty. A slight smile, only barely more than a smirk sneaked across his face for a moment as an involuntary reaction to her infectious smile. As she stands up freeing herself of her heavy cloak Balrook can't help but notice how her dress hugs her curves. Following her to the map he was wowed by the magical item, but not understanding how the map worked he dared not reach out and mess with it. Balrook listened to her speak until she finished asking about the other clans.

"Most of the other clans fear or hate my people so diplomacy will not likely be the solution. The other clans also for the most part deserve the hate of the other nations. Most clans are formed on the premise of their leader being a great warrior, and held together by fear. Power is everything to most tribes and they are constantly at war. They don't share my lofty ideals and ambitions, only the great warrior part we have in common." It was a bad joke and he gave her an apologetic smirk. "I do however have solutions to your orc problems, and even an orc problem you don't know about. The orcs on your southern border are having a harder time than they bargained for. Part of the reason they are having trouble is that they have a smaller border with you and it is easier for you to defend because of it. Two of the more cunning tribes have sent emissaries into my mountains asking me to guide them through to widen the front with you, or maybe even flank your defending force. Both of the tribes' chieftains are old enemies of mine, and I believe if I say no they will unite the tribes against me. What I propose is I guide them right to these two villages that I have already evacuated for you where you and a defensive force will be hiding. Along the way they will lose many of their number to wild animal attacks and landslides and simply loosing their footing along cliffs." When he mentioned the villages he motioned toward them on the moving map, and when he talked about thinning the enemy's numbers he smiled knowingly. "When they finally get out of the mountains they will be desperate to raid hoping to make their losses worthwhile and will come for your villages with reckless abandon. When your elves put up resistance, especially with magic it will crush their already low morale. I know you are fighting already elsewhere so if you need the men I can station orcs here to help with the defense. Finally the crushing blow for the enemy will be the rest of my army marching down out of the mountains behind them. Honestly they might think we are there to join them, but it matters not. Either way the enemy will be crushed and have nowhere to retreat."

He paused for a moment collecting his thoughts. "After this threat is dealt with I will gladly come with you to your capitol. I have an intense curiosity about it, one of my closest advisers has told me of libraries the size of multiple houses." He couldn't hide his excitement at the thought of something like that. He was clearly an inquisitive mind in a brutes body. In the scar more than one bookshelf was a lot when it came to learning material. The orcs had always been a more verbal society they still employed story tellers to keep their history alive. It had been difficult for him when he was young being the only orc his age that actually found knowledge useful. Thankfully under his leadership his tribe had begun to raise their literacy, as well as general education level.

 

[Sabre]

Solana looked rather pensive. Lack of diplomatic options threw a wrench in her other plans- but it wasn’t like they were working anyway. Balrook, overall, was turning out to be much more cunning than she had expected. His plan to take advantage of the other orcs was a brilliant and really, how could she say no? Those treacherous mountains that split through the continent had been one of the only things protecting her kingdom from the scar since it was founded.

“It’s doable. With the men I have here-“ and her eyes glazed over as she trailed off for moment, calculating in her head. “- and assuming what’s left of the clans have low morale, I think we could handle about fifty on our own. I will need help if there are more than that.”
She stands fully, rather than leaning over the map, her eyes looking a little lost and maybe a little wild as she picture the future battle. “I do have one concern. We will know your face and those of the four you brought with you today, but have no way of differentiating your people that we have yet to meet with those we will be fighting. Do you have different armor, crests, flags, or maybe paint? I would greatly prefer to avoid any friendly fire.”

When Balrook then mentions the libraries of the capitol Solana can’t hide the expression on her face. She’s excited, sure, because knowledge is something she passionate about, but she’s also rather surprised that Balrook knows what a library is. The concept of a library means that at least some orcs can read and also that they have books. He looks excited and she’s staring, suddenly so aware of how belligerently ignorant her and her people are of other cultures. Her gaze falls to trace the woven floor as shame laces around her heart and into her soft voice. “I didn’t know Orcs had a written language.”

There’s so much they don’t know, so much that she’s starting to realize is wrong of could be wrong because they never tried to learn any better. Solana has a silent crisis. She runs her fingers through her hair and wipes her face in a motion that she feels might help tear away some of her frustration and disbeliefs. “We do have libraries around that size in the schools and public domains, the castle library is much bigger than that though. There’s so much knowledge in one place it’s-.. it’s rather laughable how little we have about you.”

She laughs and it’s such a small fleeting thing, but it’s enough of a release that she can look at him again. Her lip quirks into a half smile and she tries to see the brighter side of things. The elves may not know much, but now they have the opportunity to change that. “I already know I’m gonna need your help to fill in a lot of gaps.”

 

[eloquentsin]

"I'll leave a complement of 50 orcs here to help you. They will be under the command of two of my most trusted advisors." He reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a seal on it was a symbol from chess, the rook. "Those that follow me will have this symbol in red somewhere on their head or upper body in red."

Balrook smiled at her excitement and also her apparent lack of knowledge of the orcs. "Our culture is primarily verbal. We still employ storytellers and they are usually the only ones that are litterate in orchish. Our language is primarily made up of symbols, and doesnt have an alphabet. When I was young I was one of only a hand full of people in the mountains that could read elvish. I have grown my people's literacy now up to about a quarter since I have taken control."

The huge orc nods as she talks about him filling in gaps. "We will have far more to learn from you. Better farming practices, technology, magic, economics, and so much more. Any information that I can give back in trade will be meager in comparison." He loved that even in the midst of war she was more excited by knowledge and an exchange of culture.

 

[Sabre]

“Woof, that will be more than plenty.” Solana looks a little stunned at that, because that more than doubled her men. When Balrook pulls the symbol of his tribe from his pouch she reaches, elegant fingers ghosting over it as she holds it in her mind. It easy enough to remember, easy enough to drill into her men’s head that it means ally. “Good, that will make them much easier to spot. I wondering when those fifty men could be sent? I’d prefer the sooner the better, or maybe the advisors at first. A lot of the younger soldiers are like myself and have never seen an orc in person until today. I think they could benefit from training with one. Getting to know tactics and-“ she kind of gestures around him. “-size. I imagine it’s very different than fighting humans.”

Solana doesn’t tell him that she excited about the skirmish, her body language speaks to that on its own. She’s know she shouldn’t be excited, war is a terrible thing and it’s unbecoming of her to enjoy it. The elvish politicians, especially the old ones, are all very thrown and exasperated by her need to be so involved in her decisions. They are simply not use to having an active leader.


He smiles at her despite her ignorance, and she can’t help but smile back with a giddiness that’s is not exactly commonplace with royalty. “I can be kind of a difficult student myself, but I’m hellbent on being a good teacher.” She’s beaming, and the magic around buzzes and creates little flashes of light in the air like falling glitter before she catches and tries to snuff them out with a wave of her hand. “Sorry about the sparking- that’s uh- I am very passionate about exchanging knowledge.”

They continue on like that for awhile, sharing information and tactics and things she definitely needs to know about the upcoming skirmish. There’s also a bit of casual conversation slipped in on Solana’s part, who appears to become ever friendlier as time passes. She’s very trusting and open minded, perhaps on part of her young age, or perhaps that just her personality. Either way, her growing smile is never disingenuous.

—

The battle falls on a day that is twice as cold as the day they met and planned. The nearby river flows slowly, the hexagon shaped ice sheets sliding against one another make the only sound in the forest town. Other than that’s its eerily quiet. No chirping birds or wind or even skittering little bugs.

Unnatural.

The thickening blanket of fog is likely unnatural too, but that is not apparent at first glance. Sniper archers wait in treetops, blending in with the wood both my magic and armor. Others are hidden on the ground. Some camouflage easily, and those that can’t wrap themselves in illusions or the shadow of the trees branches.

Solana looks every part the elven warrior empress. Her fiery hair is braided tightly against her skull, from crown to a fluffy knot at her nape. Her armor is silvery, intricate, bands of magic woven in as if her own was not already enough to protect her. It looks too exquisite to wear, or at least it would could she be seen.

Right now she’s wrapped in shadow, waiting with bated breath. Her white hart underneath her twitches, nervous but steady, it’s flowered branches blooming despite the cold. “Easy.” She whispers. It’s almost time.