Merdon was a knight, a strong, capable fighter that had faced many challenges. He'd fought a witch of powerful skill and turned her into an ally. He had walked miles in a single day, carrying all the things he owned in the world on his back. His history was filled with brutal bandit butcherings, stronghold sieges, and recovering lost items for wealthy and poor alike. His father had trained him in the ways of an Avantian knight, his mother had given him the skills necessary to survive in the wild. In short, there was very little the knight wasn't prepared to tackle head-on, and with the determination and strength of will that many couldn't muster in the whole of their lifetimes. For all of his training, combat experience, skills, traveling, hard work, nothing he'd done could have prepared him for the stony faces that were staring at him as though possessed by the abyss itself.
Shade was quiet, standing next to Grot's wooden throne. She was calm, collected, and silent. Grot, on the other hand, was starting to crack. His lip quivered and shifted, trying not to form into a scowl, all while his eyes remained set on Merdon's face. The knight was sweating as he glanced at Sarel, standing on the orc chief's other side, a completely deadpan look on her face. As though her mate had sucked the soul straight from her body in just a few minutes. Nervousness dripped down Merdon's fingers, and he had to shake himself just to make sure he wouldn't pass out.
“Was it that bad?” he choked softly, rubbing his brow with the back of a hand. “I thought it was all right.”
Sarel sighed and rubbed her temple firmly. “Verakt, do not take up theater,” she lamented.
“There is no way you could speak for him, is there?” Shade asked, not even lowering her voice to try and hide it from Merdon. The words striking the human like an arrow to the heart.
“It wasn't that bad!” he protested, slicing the air with his hand. “C'mon. It's not that complicated. I'm just asking the chief of chiefs for aid in a war, a war the orcs want to continue, right?”
Grot groaned and put his face into his palm. “No, Shade, I'm afraid the human will have to ask for help himself.”
Sarel stepped up before Merdon said anything else, cutting him off. “Verakt,” she said calmly. “You stumbled over every other word, sounded as though you were reading a play word for word, and stood as straight as a pole in a field.” He was unnatural when speaking publically.
The knight swallowed. “That bad?” he managed, just so.
“Merdon,” the orc chief said, standing up and stretching. “Giving a speech isn't about memorizing some words and spitting them back out like a drunkard's dinner after a night of ale. You have to be passionate, believe what you're saying. When you talk, I don't believe it.”
Shade nodded. “I would be inclined to think Grot has snatched you up from Avant and beaten you into this to incite the orcs into a second war,” the black-scaled kobold suggested.
Grot raised a brow. “Well now, let's talk about that,” he mumbled. “We could probably find someone more convincing than Merdon here to do it.”
Merdon's mouth hung open. “You can't be serious,” he complained. “You think some random person off the road could do better?”
The dark-skinned orc chuckled and cracked his knuckles. “Not sure, but they'd sure be a lot more motivated than you are.”
The human deflated and gave up. The four of them adjourned for lunch, a less involved affair compared to the breakfast Merdon had witnessed once the other orcs of the cabin awoke. Lots of fighting, shoving, punching, as if there wasn't enough food to go around. By noon, the lot of them were lethargic without something to do. Their menu mostly being leftovers from breakfast probably didn't stimulate them to argue with each other either. Sarel and Shade ate heartily enough, though Grot seemed much less enthused himself. Merdon wondered why but didn't ask. The worries of a leader were not his, and he doubted he could understand without being that position for himself. A few kobolds was nothing like a whole village and that was the most Merdon had ever dealt with being a leader before.
Alongside learning about orcs, Merdon also got to see the kobolds of the village. They were more active after his arrival, the orcs having hidden them away in case of an attack, and discovering he was friendly. The kobolds walked about the village rather openly. They engaged in trade with orcs, helped with the smiths forging weapons and armor, crafted pieces of jewelry and furniture with the precision of master craftsmen, yet somehow Avant had never allowed them any of that. It bubbled inside of him, the rage, thinking about how well these ones lived compared to the allegedly free kobolds of Ardmach. He felt surer than ever after seeing them that he was doing the right thing. Perhaps there was a better way, a way a smarter human could figure out, but Merdon was a warrior. Fighting for what was right was the only way he knew how to live.
The orcs themselves were also a lot more than he'd been told. They could be rude, bawdy, destructive, but mostly they were just like humans. Sometimes a fight broke out in the middle of the town and a crowd gathered to cheer the two combatants on, but half of an Avantian guard's duty was breaking up tavern brawls. He didn't see anything different just because they were orcs. Someone always stopped the fight before it turned into a bloodbath, and whatever ill the two fighters had was put away after their match. Their society was brutal, the strongest were the most important. Those that could end a fight were revered, those that lost were forgotten, and those like himself that fell in between were largely left alone. It was a culture that made Merdon ask Grot how they managed to survive so long.
The orc chief told the human of the orc's origins. They had come from the far North, a place of frozen solid ice year-round, a place that Merdon had only heard sailors fable of. Somewhere so cold the wind froze rigging in the middle of the ship, where dropping anchor could leave on landlocked by ice the next morning, and where few men ever returned from. Grot told him it was a brutal landscape where the orcs survived in few numbers only by being strong hunters. At the time, orcs were smaller, some claimed like kobolds, designed to preserve their body heat with minimal covering, but over the years they grew in size. Large white bears threatened them when they were smaller, and so they grew to be bigger than the bears they feared. A change spurred on by their god, Oorck, who in turn grew to love the challenge of a hunt. As their size increased, they stopped being afraid of the bears. Wearing their pelts was a sign of privilege and skill until, eventually, every orc had a pelt. They began to move after that, sensing how hard it was to keep warm and how they were impacting the animals of the North with their new sizes.
They needed more fertile ground, new challenges, more creatures to hunt. That led them across the ocean where they settled in roughly the same place, just to the North of Avant. Avant was more established, and the orcs often encountered human settlers in their hunts. The orcs saw them as new creatures to hunt until the humans started fighting back with steel and weapons. It took them little time afterward to see the humans were intelligent, at least as much as the orcs, and attempts at peace were had. Tensions were high in those times. Humans saw orcs as monsters, while the orcs saw the humans as a challenge. That led to the first conflict between them. A war that eventually spread to the elves, who proved themselves smarter than both factions, and forced an armistice. For a time at least.
Merdon could easily guess the rest from there. The great war between the orcs and elves would have broken out, with the restored and empowered Avant joining in. With weapons and armor blessed by Ethral, the original Eyes of Ethral entering the fray, both sides were taken by surprise. Avant was then the one to broker peace between them, as well as with the Queendom of Rastar. It was supposed to keep things amicable on the continent for centuries, but by Merdon's take, it was never good enough.
The orcs hated the treaty, despised the way Avant won, and wanted a rematch. That was supposed to be the speech he gave the orc's leader. Promises of glory and power, of a war that never should have ended. He was told to preach of glory and sacrifice, that marching off to Avant with flags raised high and warbands stomping through mud was what the orcs needed to do. All wrapped up in a nice package about how they would find humans to side with them against the Avantian nobility. That last piece was from what he knew about the Eyes of Ethral. How they killed humans that opposed the king's law on kobolds. It was the only part of the speech he felt any confidence in; the only part that he'd really come up with. Everything else had been worked out by Grot and Shade, specially tuned to rouse the orcs to battle. Even if Merdon didn't agree with the strategy or methods discussed. He needed the support of the orcs, no matter the cost.
Lunch ended as quietly as it started, and Merdon went back to his and Sarel's quarters to freshen up. The orcs didn't bathe much, so a quick rinse of cold water to clear his head was the best he could do, as well as giving himself a quick trim with a short knife he kept tucked away in his pack. In the midst of slicing off chunks of his hair, Sarel walked in and looked at him with curiosity.
“Sarel has noticed,” she said, announcing herself and causing Merdon to jump, “That her verakt does not grow facial hair.”
Merdon, after his heart stopped beating out of his chest, responded. “Yeah, it's a weird thing. My dad and brother don't grow beards or mustaches either. Just a family trait, I guess,” he shrugged, going back to lopping his hair off to its usual short length. It had been getting a little unruly after the winter months.
“Perhaps you're more lizard than you think,” Sarel teased, chuckling into her hand. Merdon laughed along with her as he tucked the sharp blade away into his things.
“What's next on our daily agenda?” he asked his mate as he sat on a chair built for a much larger creature. “More speech practice?” The knight made a face at his own words.
Stolen story; please report.
Sarel, however, shook her head. “Sarel does not know. Grot said he had something to take care of.”
Merdon wondered what that could be as he looked outside at the sky. Clouds were drifting in, robbing the light of the sun and leaving things a little cooler and a lot darker. It might have been a storm, he figured, but it also could have been nothing. The clouds were undecided as well, it seemed. He chuckled at the notion of nature being as conflicted as he was before leaning back in his seat and sighing. If Grot was going to be busy, the knight would relax. There were no pressing issues he needed to take care of at that moment. They were as safe as they could be in the orcs' village.
That was the plan until Grot flung the door open and shouted, “Get your things. We're leaving in one hour.”
The human bolted up and looked confused. “Leaving? What? Where?” he asked rapidly.
Grot grumbled, “Stupid humes... We're going to the stronghold. You wanted to talk to the chief of chiefs, well I sent him a messenger days ago when you were sleeping. The other chiefs are starting to gather. It's time to put your theatrics on display, Merdon.”
Fear seized Merdon's heart like a cold metal gauntlet as they rode towards the orcs' capital. The boon of a strong, well-bred horse under him, carrying him at speeds he could barely manage on his own with all of his things on his back, being the beast was walking, was heavily outweighed by what he would have to do in a few days. Overhead, the sky stayed as overcast as his heart. Grot had noted the weather when they left, calling for a storm, but it had yet to break. Shade rode with him, on his back, and watched their surroundings more than the sky. Even in their territory, she was cautious, surrounded as they were by Grot's men, and Sarel had wanted to imitate her. While the human sat on his horse in existential dread, his mate was attempting to stay on his back. A task made much harder by Merdon's smaller size and the movement of the horse under them. Merdon felt disconnected from the moment. He viewed everything around him through a haze; only taking in the information while not fully processing it.
Grot was spending more time with his kind, being their leader. Merdon observed it passively as they set up a small camp in the middle of the grassy plains. How Grot ordered his people around, taking charge of the big picture and only getting in the way when something went off. The knight's reactions were subdued, even as they all gathered around a fire and ate. Sarel noticed it, the way he acted dimly as the orcs around them cheered and sang boisterously. There was nothing she could do about it, however. Her best guess was to give him a night of rest, to process what was happening. They had moved very quickly, and Grot figured it would be no more than another day of travel before they arrived. She knew this was a lot of pressure for the human to stand, but it had been his choice to bear it. Even if he appeared to be shutting down while they traveled. Merdon wasn't the leader right now. He could afford this small breakdown as long as he was ready to do what he said he would when they arrived. Sarel would support him through it, that was her choice.
Quickclaw made sure her verakt was tucked in and asleep before she afforded herself any rest. The storm above started to pick up when she laid down, the moon being hidden behind clouds blanketed the fields in darkness. They were safe, however, surrounded by orcs protecting the small campsite. She slept soundly, but not for long. How long exactly she didn't know, but Sarel felt as if her head were filled with sand when a commotion outside roused her. That commotion quickly came inside as the tent she and Merdon were sleeping in was ripped out of the ground and hurled far into the darkness.
The kobold leaped up and shook her mate awake, his eyes just as bleary as hers. “We need to move!” she shouted, getting his attention while grabbing her things.
Grot was in the middle of the camp yelling orders to his subordinates. Merdon got the gist rather quickly and grabbed his pack, though it was in little danger of being lost because of his heavy armor, he preferred to keep it around anyway. With it on his back, he approached the orc chief with a look of confusion. How had the storm gotten this bad so quickly? It wasn't a weather pattern he was familiar with.
“We call them cyclones,” the orc shouted over the furious winds. “Bastard weather rips up anything that isn't nailed down and even those don't always keep it on the ground.”
Merdon frowned. This was new. “What do we do?” he yelled back. The orc pointed into the distance and the knight followed his direction.
“There's a decent place out that way,” he told the human. “If we can reach it quick enough. Gonna have to ride the horses a bit hard.”
The knight nodded and got mounted, along with Sarel on his back. She looked concerned, more for Merdon than anything, but the human was fully present at the moment. This was a time of danger and he had a plan he was fully confident in. There was no need to second guess himself when Grot had told him where to go. As lightning cracked overhead, he saw what the chief had been pointing to. A shape in the distance Merdon couldn't quite figure out, something like a mound of earth. How it would help them with the storm, he didn't know, but Grot did and his word was enough to get him to spur his horse in that direction.
The wind whipping around them was nothing compared to the storm's gale that surrounded the whole group. Grot's shouts were harder to hear the faster they went, but they were all moving towards the same destination. At the base of the mound was a hole, a cave. It was deep and difficult to get the horses to enter, but the orcs were very hands-on with their steeds, knowing their importance in the trip. Merdon entered the cavern first, not capable of pushing the horses the way the orcs were and scouted their hiding place. While the entrance was narrow, forcing the orcs to duck as they pushed the horses inside, it widened quite a bit deeper in. There was no way out though. If the entrance caved in or became blocked, they would be stuck, entombed instead of thrown. The knight wasn't sure which demise he disliked more.
His thoughts became more alarmed when Grot ordered his men to seal the entrance themselves. Several large rocks were piled at the front of the cave, suspending them in darkness even Sarel had difficulties seeing through and leaving them with nothing to hear but the howling wind above them. The orcs didn't seem bothered, most of them laying down and returning to sleep, but Merdon was on edge now. He twiddled his fingers and chewed his lip in the darkness. As long as the cave held they would be fine, but he didn't like the odds of that given what he'd seen above. Blocking them in felt like a bad idea even though he was utterly unfamiliar with this kind of weather.
Shade stepped over and put a claw on his hand, causing the human to jerk in surprise. “Relax,” she said quietly, keeping the echo of her voice down. “You are as giddy as the horses.”
“Can't help it,” Merdon commented. “Never been a fan of caves. As long as I can move through them it's fine. Being stuck?” He looked at the ceiling nervously.
“Ah,” the kobold said, “Buried alive. Yes, it's a common fear. Many of the orcs here are not pleased either, it's why they sleep. If they cannot see what they fear, they cannot fear it.”
The knight let out a strained laugh. “I wish I could just close my eyes and ignore it,” he admitted.
Grot came over and sat against a wall. “Relax,” the chief told Merdon. “Even if the entrance caved in we've got enough muscle in here to dig ourselves out. Supposing we didn't, the chiefs we're supposed to go meet would know and come find us. Eventually.” He shrugged. “At least we can eat the horses if we have to.”
The notion of being stuck in the cave longer than a few hours made Merdon sick. He knelt and then sat down with a groan. “Please don't,” he pleaded.
“We will be fine,” Shade assured him again, looking at Sarel.
The blue kobold nodded and put an arm around her human. “Yes, verakt. Relax. You have been under great stress for the last few days.”
He shook his head. “This is different,” he started, before being cut off by Grot.
“Merdon!” the orc shouted, causing his men to jump and look before realizing it wasn't their business. His voice echoed in the small cave and drown out the storm above. “You're a knight for gods' sake, act like it. This storm will blow over by morning and we'll be back on the path for the stronghold, and you've got bigger worries than some stupid cave.”
The human frowned and looked at the ground, but he stopped protesting and complaining. Sarel glared at the orc chief, but Grot didn't care. As long as they rode the storm out safely being rude to the knight wasn't a concern. And, after a few hours, the wind died down, returning to a simple, unheard breeze. Grot's soldiers opened the cave back up, which relaxed Merdon further. At some point, he fell asleep again, just for a while. Not long enough to wake up rested, but enough to forget about the cave.
He was tired as they set out at the crack of dawn, a yawn forcing its way from his mouth every few minutes, but he was alive and the sky was blue again. Even Sarel seemed to be happier about her mate's mood. The sunshine pleased them both more than anything. Despite her lineage and the claims of being a monster, it seemed Sarel wasn't a fan of being underground any more than Merdon was. Or perhaps she wasn't because of him, it was hard for the human to tell if there was a difference anymore. Still, he had a curiosity about the storm from the night before and there was only one orc to talk to about it.
Merdon rode up beside Grot and commented, “I suppose those storms don't last long.”
Grot shrugged. “Sometimes a few hours, sometimes a day or two.”
The knight paled. “Two days? Then how were you so sure this one would pass?”
“I wasn't,” the chief shrugged. He looked Merdon in the face and told him, “I lied because that's what you needed to hear. You didn't need soft coddling, you needed someone to give you some authority.”
Merdon frowned. He didn't like being lied to, but he couldn't help but admit Grot had a point. It had helped him calm down. He also thought about it in terms of the speech he was supposed to give in just a few hours. Perhaps he just needed to say what the orcs needed to hear. In fact, he glanced at the chief and pondered if that was exactly what the orc was trying to tell him. It seemed much too coincidental he used those precise words. Manipulation or not, it was working. He was thinking more and more about what needed to be done rather than the methods being used. They needed the orcs to go to war, it was just better if they did it less bluntly.
As they crested a hill, one of the few large ones in the landscape of Grot's territory, the orcs stopped at the top. Merdon's own pondering was halted as they reached the top, the hill sloping down into a stone wall that surrounded a large city. He didn't need it spelled out for him, but Grot did it anyway. “The stronghold of the orcs,” he said with a smirk. It wasn't as impressive as Ardmach, that was for sure, but it wasn't exactly what Merdon thought of when he heard stronghold either.
Castle was more accurate, and a castle town at that. Many buildings sat in the distance, each one of them spartan and war-like in their design. He had expected a large fort, at most a castle with a wall, not a whole city. Avant had never told anyone about this. Just another cover-up under their belts. Orcs were clearly capable of more than anyone had been told, and it was changing Merdon's mind about what he needed to say to their chiefs.
“Come on,” Grot said, starting his horse at a canter down the hill. “We'll arrive just at lunch if we keep this pace up.”
The knight followed, but he wasn't thinking about food. He was thinking about all the looks he was going to get in this new city. It was going to be another shock, he was sure. Sarel felt him tense up from her position behind him and frowned. At least he was starting to understand how she felt all throughout Avant. Though, she wished no one had to feel that way.