And so, before the 'sky sex' (that was not what was going to happen, the next meeting began. From one of the few who had answered the call, and perhaps the oddest arrival overall.
“This is... Unexpected,” Tyr cleared his throat. He wasn't exactly the world's greatest diplomat, had none of the qualifications for being even the worst one, and his personality didn't fit either. Nevertheless, he'd do practically anything to win, and this was just another piece of ensuring that happened. “Nevertheless, welcome to Amistad. Er...?”
“Kul.” He grunted. Alex, Tyr, and the alfen representatives were staring at the hulking form of the largest orc Tyr had ever seen. Five of them and all quite massive, making Jura who sat nervously beside her kin look like a child. Tyr had sent no missive to orcs, they had no centralized government and their clans were far afield, in places he could not reach efficiently. Nor would he have thought to, their kind were heavily restricted in travel in most countries. Half-orcs didn't always look as human as Jura, and many like Rakkis carried identification of their half blood status. They were not allowed to step foot in Haran, were killed on sight in Varia, and received mixed reactions near everywhere else – but few and far between were happy to see them at all. Orcs had warred with most every race on the continent since time immemorial, it's what they did. Or so the history books claimed, books that Tyr often found to be misrepresentations of the truth, or outright lies.
Thankfully, or... Well, whatever the case, Tyr Faeron was no bigot.
That's all the big orc said, 'Kul'. No surname, no position again, just Kul, and his frosty blue eyes stared down balefully at the 'humans' before him. The other orcs had eye colors varying between yellow and gold, with flecks of red or green within. Kul's eyes were unique, and light in hue enough to be a bit creepy, staring at Tyr like that. He had a shovel jaw, pronounced cheekbones like Jura, and a thick mane of hair braided impeccably down his back. The aroma coming from his skin was powerful, but not overbearing, smelling like crushed herbs and flora scents. In summary, he might not have been very handsome from a human's point of view, but he smelled incredible.
That's how Tyr had come to notice them, even as they'd marched bold faced into the estate where he conducted these meetings. The scent of them, orcs were obsessively clean – that was an identifier of their race. And yet the books always made them seem like big dirty barbarians, go figure. More imperialist lies.
“He is Kul of the Broken Blade, a tribe of orcs that live in the southern mountains of Lyra,” Jura said, as if this explained why the unannounced visit had come at all, or why she was sitting among them as a member of another tribe, and not beside him as his wife. Fortunately, Kul was sharper than he appeared.
“Jura of the Laughing Moon was thought lost to us for many years. She is the last known living member of one of the elder blood. You are orc as well, if not by heritage,” He pointed a finger at Tyr's chest, though the claim seemed to be made with no small amount of disappointment. “So we are here to war and slay at the side of the greenblood, and her husband. As patriarch, you are effectively king of all orcish kind, and your mate is our queen of sorts. And to marry one of you human primus'... This is a great honor, for the both of us, and we expect a great battle worthy of that.”
Tyr looked to Jura, who 'translated' a bit of the bizarre information coming from this chieftain. “My family comes from a direct line of what they call the greenblood, which is to say our bloodline can be traced back to what my people call the 'original orcs', when our race was strong and we ruled this continent. Many of the modern tribes have lost their interest in the old ways, but the Broken Blade is akin to a church in our ways. They still worship the fallen gods and believe that through perpetuating the few sacred bloodlines, those same gods can be resurrected. Even if I am a halfblood, this doesn't matter to them. In reality, all of my kind, as far back as time goes, were partial blooded to begin with. As couplings with other greenblood never bear children.”
“Lots of claims of sacred bloodlines today,” Tyr observed wryly, but he didn't laugh at what she'd said, nor did he mock it in the slightest. It made sense, really. Jura, Jurak. All orcs were named after some part of their fallen gods, gods that had very much existed at one point. It all tied together quite nicely, just a lot of pointless mess in between. Kul, Jakuul. In the intonation, perhaps. “So Jura is some sort of royalty among your kind? I've heard nothing of this.”
“She did not know either, not truly,” Kul asserted with an edge to his voice, leaning over the table like a vaguely humanoid mountain of gray flesh, not so green as the others. “She had not undergone the trials, taken too soon from her ancestral lands when your people came to reave and terrorize a peaceful tribe. Because it is never enough for you, you humans. Count yourself lucky that she survived these tribulations, or we would be having a very different conversation.”
“Go ahead, big man,” Tyr snorted in amusement. “Draw that axe and show me a good time.”
“You would defeat me, prime one.” Kul grunted dispassionately. “This I know. But despite this invitation and my vague interest in meeting it, you are of us, I am your brother, and though I do not approve – it is so. It is our duty to serve and protect you, as well as sister Jura. I will offer you my life and more, as is commanded of me by tradition.”
Tyr nodded then, a bit apologetically, considering he'd just insulted the massive orc. Orcs, that is to say the evolved, or devolved, depending on perspective, variant of the Orik race and made to be consummate soldiers. Similar to humans in breeding cycle, only faster to grow to full strength – and very powerful in context to your typical man. “Thanks, man. That's very touching.”
“I am no man,” Kul replied, but he nodded all the same.
“Have orcs not raided and warred with humans for untold centuries?” Unlike Tyr, Alex was a bit agitated by the lack of respect, and certainly accountability. Orcs were humanity's greatest enemy, or they had been, until the primus' had bound together, defeating their champions and sending them scrambling. In her mind, it was a wonder they were allowed life at all, even now they would crash their ugly warships on the 'Landing' and attempt to invade the successor states every few years, far to the west near Milano and the Burgher States. “You are not blameless in all that has happened.”
She was very proud, like most Harani were, humanity first.
“You tell yourselves these things to justify your actions,” Kul spat angrily, a vein throbbing at his green-gray neck while the only other female orc (sans Jura) in the room uncrossed her arms and rested a hand on the over-large scimitar at her waist. Nobody on the opposite side of the delegation reacted. Tyr did not fear them, and neither did the alfen. Alex was left almost wishing they would, orcs and trolls and goblins had terrorized human lands for so long that it cemented a grudge in all the kingdoms on the continent. She didn't hate them for what they were, but she would prefer not to deal with them, or in all honesty, she would not be bothered to learn that they'd gone extinct. “We were peaceful, after the great war we laid down our blades and agreed to share these lands that are rightfully ours with your ancestors, as brothers. And we were butchered for it, hunted like animals, slaughtered in our millions until there weren't many of us left. Thrown in cages, made slaves and pit fighters, our sacred places burned and defiled – all justified by a false recounting of events. Our memories are long, female, and we do not forget. Our wrath will blot out the sun of your weakling deities when ours return from the long journey.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Alex attempted to stand, but Tyr forced her back down with a hand, he didn't like doing that sort of thing but she was frankly out of line. Orcs were strong, durable, and possessed an impressive healing factor, but they weren't a match for her. A flick of her fingers and they'd all be dust, and for what? He was surprised she'd escalated in anger like that, having never had an inkling she possessed such a grudge against the orcs. Unfortunately for Kul, Tyr was well aware that none of his gods would ever return, the last known Orik deity had been 'killed' by his hands.
Only a shred of her essence remained inside of him, that being Jurak. He did, however, know that Kul spoke the truth – the Orik had never been enemies of humanity directly. Their kind had been at war with something else, a war in which humanity had arrived and fought alongside them when they had first come to this continent. But at the same time, Orik had been going about committing mass genocides in a bit to kill all of the gods on the planet and replace them with their own. Thereby making themselves immortal or something like that, so... They certainly weren't blameless. Shit happens, he guessed – you're either strong, or you're weak. Whining about it wouldn't help anyone.
“How many do you bring us?” Tyr asked.
“At a minimum we have nine hundred.” Kul replied curtly, calming immediately. “It is not a large number, but--”
“But one orc is worth ten men, yes,” Tyr smiled softly, interrupting him, these were pretty stereotypical, but Jura was a reflection of their well earned racial pride. He knew orcs far better than orcs knew humans. “Your price?”
“Duty is it's own reward,” Kul replied matter-of-factly. “You--”
“Humans are greedy. I get it, and I don't disagree, there aren't many humans on this continent that would stand and fight for no reward. Even those inquisitors and crusade forces think they'll get some boon from the gods for doing so. My counter offer is cooperative right of land to the disputed valley alongside the wyrmlings and goblins that reside there. They mostly live underground in any case, so you can build or reside in this very generous parcel of land under condition of not killing humans, unless in defense, and only on the south side of the mountain down to the Span. Consider this tribute, and a reparation for past deeds, I don't really give a shit, but I will reward my allies.” Tyr proposed, and Kul nodded in acceptance. A bit of surprise flashing in his eyes, but then there was skepticism too, he'd speak on it.
“Generous, but you have no authority to give this land to us,” Kul frowned, his voice was incredibly deep, like mountains rubbing against one another. “I am not a fool.”
“Alright, that's fair,” Tyr pulled the communication amulet from his neck and less than five minutes later, an amused Jartor had agreed to the proposition, promising by oath a formal contract with some more nuanced stipulation and statute within. Assuring them that he would make the disputed lands it's own official nation, but he wouldn't give ownership of it to Tyr at this time. Not yet, he'd said, it would be a protectorate. Again, Tyr would frown, contemplating the fact that this might've been that old bastard's plan all along. Jartor Faeron never broke a promise, that was one of the only good things one could say about him. “See? Easy, old man's got it handled.”
“I had heard your sire was a lot more stubborn than that,” Remus commented from the side, his face stony and still as the side of the mountains they'd been discussing. “But I suppose all rumors are bound to have elements of mistruth, when repeated over the centuries.”
“I would have just done it anyways, and he knows that,” Tyr said, and that was partially true. He was thankful they couldn't read his mind. The disputed valley wasn't actually even 'disputed' anymore, nobody wanted it for some reason, or the primus had never allowed it to be settled. Probably because it was dangerous, just not in the 'obvious' way. It was a graveyard of an ancient civilization, and the hidden city deep within the mountains had to have been guarded at some point. Now it was nothing but stone and rubble. What the kobolds hadn't stripped from it, Tyr had. While technically Harani land, it served no great purpose to an empire already overflowing with wealth. It was enough to leave it be. Jartor wasn't going to fight his own son over such a simple thing when he knew full well what was going to happen in the future. Tyr had no authority and no capacity to be any threat to his territory, not anymore, perhaps the two had come to equal understanding of this.
“First, before we ratify this agreement, what do you think?” Tyr turned toward the alfen delegation.
“I think it's happening very quickly,” Harkon said with a shrug. “But it does not matter what we think, this is by all means your kingdom, who am I to weigh in on these things?”
“She will be my wife, or my... Husband?” Tyr's face screwed up in confusion at their bizarre custom, but he'd traveled far and wide and seen much stranger things. Well, maybe not, but it was evident that bizarre things existed in this world. He was amiss in not introducing them to the orcs, choosing to do so a bit late. “Aram, and her kin in turn, have a right to comment. This is, uh, the human way, if Alex here were to weigh in, I would respect her words too, no?”
Aram frowned, she found this man to be exceptionally vexing and the fact he would not allow her to read him was offensive. It was considered the height of rudeness in her culture, and frankly wasn't even legal in their lands. Still, she appreciated the fact that he was giving her face when he had no official reason to do so, so as always she remained honest. Alfen culture on the surface might seem equitable and prosperous, but the rumors about them weren't all wrong. In a culture where people could not lie, there were bound to be loopholes. No living thing was above the concept of greed and superiority, and it was the humility so cherished in their culture that gave her an appreciation of honest respect, even if she couldn't verify it through the sight. “I have encountered many orcs in my time and I find them a very pleasant people. They are kind, wise, honest, and give with two hands to those they hold bonds with. This is a fair bargain, and a worthy first step to correcting the mistakes of the past.”
“You honor us, alf,” Kul inclined his head upward to reveal his neck, a custom Jura had educated Tyr on once that communicated great respect among their kind. Very similar to the Anu way of bearing the throat, perhaps of shared relation. “As do you, Tyr of many names. We require no scribbled papers, only words and a sharing of the lifewine.”
“Alright,” Tyr nodded, accepting the knife slid across the table by the female orc and finding himself shocked at the sharpness of it. The blade was carved from obsidian, and it sliced clean through his hand with what he'd consider a semi-firm touch. Sliced clean through, cutting it clean off and into a stump. In summary, he had amputated his own hand with a bare touch, so... Well...? “Oops.”
Blood was spraying freely from the detached appendage, hosing the orcs opposite him. Jura dived out of the way but the others just stood there with lowered brows and mystified gazes. Kul stared with squinted eyes at the amputated hand before doing the same to himself, only the faintest grimace making itself at home on his face.
“Brothers in battle, then,” Kul extended the stump. “Do not fret, white one, you are not the only one.”
Tyr nodded, and they slammed the stumps together with a finality that sealed their partnership.
Tyr Faeron, the king of monsters, and what monsters they'd become in the minds of men when he set them loose.
Soon.