“Order!” shouted the squat, muscular Orc sitting at the front of the assembly. “Order!” he cried again. The feverish group of Orcs didn’t take any notice; it had been a long time since the Orc chiefs had gathered. Each chief had brought nothing more than one melee weapon, some bags of supplies and a riding animal.
Brained the Marauder, the master of proceedings for this meeting, raised a hunting horn to his mouth and blew a long, sharp note. The assembled chieftains raised their hands to their ears and snarled menacingly before quieting and looking expectantly at The Marauder.
“Settle down, my lords of the plains. You are equal in stature and prowess in mine own eyes. I am witness to your skill and cunning.” The Orc riders had frequently fought against each other. “I have learned not to encroach on your lands without good reason.” This was high praise from the Marauder. He was the chief with the largest horde and had frequently proved to be a cunning and visionary operator. There was an opinion amongst the Orc masses that if The Marauder so chose, he could overpower the other chiefs and take over their riding lands. Undoubtedly, it would come at a considerable cost, which is likely why he had stayed with his forces.
“The lords sitting in this room are the true masters of the plains. The so-called city-dwelling kings are nothing but invaders, cowering behind their walls.” There were murmurs of approval from around the room. If the Marauder allowed the momentum to build, those murmurs would turn into loud calls for the Orcs to band together and raze the human cities. This would, in turn, lead to each chief claiming to be the most competent and the most worthy to lead such a united force, which would inevitably lead to challenges between the chiefs and needless bloodshed.
The Marauder raised his hand open-palmed to forestall such an event. “I hate these kings as much as any Orc. Much do I wish to tear down those walls and drive them away from the plains with mace and sword.” This was a lie. For many years, the Marauder had been a great admirer of the humans and their farming ability. One reason his riders flourished is because he had agreed to clandestine deals with the towns on his plains to encourage them to trade their produce. Initially, it was easier to strike those deals once the Orc demonstrated the value of having his protection from the other Orc bands. It also helped to establish his horde’s capacity for brutality.
“However,” he continued. “The thing I despise more than anything is the disdain these humans hold us in.” The room, which had been attentive before, was now rapt in deathly silence. The Orcs were a proud people and hated to think that anyone would be looking down on them. “They hold us in contempt because they see us as beasts! Foul smelling, uncivilised and barbaric.”
A chief named Mountain the Pungent shouted gleeful approval. He quickly settled when the other Orcs offered only glares of reproach. The humans had never attempted to engage the Orcs in civilised dialogue. They assumed that they were monsters because the Orcs had tusks, wore different clothes, and lived under the naked sky. The humans assumed the Orcs were barbaric; thus, they built walls and created armies to operate them. It didn’t help that there were Orcs, such as Mountain the Pungent, who lived up to the stereotype.
“Why should we care what humans think of us?” asked another orc, Coward the Killer.
“Because,” replied Brained, “humans are excellent farmers. They have food, and we have coin. If we can improve our image in their eyes, they would be willing to trade with us.
“But we only have coin because we pillage the villages,” reasoned an Orc named Bald the Fiery. “Excellent point,” beamed The Marauder. I move to set a plains law that there should be no more pillaging in the hope of improving our image.”
A collective gasp.
“How should we live then?” The Fiery asked on behalf of the room.
“We are resourceful and can trade with the humans as well,” replied the Marauder.
Murmurs of dissent began whispering around the room.
Mountain the Pungent stood up, immediately causing those sitting around him to hold their breath. “My trade is killing,” he stated. I will not waste my sweat on any other.”
Brained stared at him intently for a second, but a voice called out before he could reply: ” It doesn’t smell like you’ve ever willingly wasted a single drop of sweat from your person.” The pungent wasn’t popular.
The Marauder seized the distraction as an opportunity “a fine point,” he said. “I have commanded my riders that they must now bathe daily.” The other chiefs had heard this rumour and weren’t surprised. “Hear, hear!” shouted the Coward, who was sitting closest to the Pungent. “All those in favour, say aye”
“Aye!” the assembly shouted.
“Nay”, a lone voice called out.
“Motion passed”, concluded Brained. “Henceforth, Orc law states that all Orcs must bathe daily.
The chiefs murmured approvingly.
“I have also commanded my riders to wear garments as humans do.”
Instant outrage.
Bald the Fiery stood up, his scalp bearing the evidence of his name. “An Orc wears his loin cloth with pride. We display our power and physicality to strike fear into the heart of our enemy.” Brained expected this response, and he was pleased that Bald the Fiery had spoken up. “You mean such as your own physique?” There were sniggers within the room as the group noted the rotund body shape of the Fiery. The Marauder lifted his hand, again, open-palmed in a peace offering. “You misunderstand me, my Lords. My intent is armour.” This was a lie. He intended that the Orcs would be willing to wear bloody clothes, but he suspected that the only way to do that would eventually be through appealing to their martial mentality.
“What armour?” asked the Coward inquisitively. It seemed appropriate that he would be the one most interested. “Do you refer to the human armour that barely stops our weapons maiming the pathetic humans?” This was also a lie. The armour the humans wore did a good job, mostly protecting them from the melee weapons that were typically used by Orcs.
“We have the skill and the capacity to make our own armour,” replied the Marauder. “I know that my riders and our caravans have held long-protected secrets in the art of working metal, and you all hold such secrets. Our metalwork and our weapons are far superior to humans. My blacksmiths assure me that it would be simple to create armour, pans, pots, and even horseshoes that would be more durable than any human-made metal.”
The Pungent stood, clearly unimpressed with the direction of this meeting. Coward, the killer, was quicker in rising and, with a glare, made it clear that he would speak first. ” I see your intentions are straying, Marauder. In time, you would have us selling our metal to the humans. Is that not so?”
Brained, the Marauder’s tusks flashed as he smiled. “As ever, your cunning has deduced my intentions. Does any Orc object?”
The Pungent could no longer contain himself. He sprang to his feet, practically quivering with rage. “You would dress us like humans and sell our secrets to the humans?” This is treachery of the highest order. I challenge you to the battle of the sword to restore honour within this room.”
Contrary to public perception, the Orcs were only violent for practical reasons, so they were intrigued to see how the Marauder would respond.
“I do not wish to battle you, Mountain, and I would ask that you consider my gifts as an offering of peace.” The watching group was even more intrigued now. Brained the Marauder, like all of them, had a reputation to keep, so this swerving of a direct challenge wasn’t typical.
“What gifts?” the adrenaline-fuelled Orc retorted, his hand already clutching the sword’s pommel hanging from his loincloth.
Brained, the Marauder stepped out from behind his podium and retrieved several sacks. A metallic clinking sound could be heard as he distributed them amongst the group. One by one, the Orcs opened the sacks and admired the enclosed gifts: intricately made Orc armour with an accompanying helmet. The helmets, unlike human helmets, were actually very comfortable and quite dashing.
The Orcs, like children receiving gifts, immediately put their armour on. Grunts of approval were murmured around the room. “A worthy gift, I thank you, Marauder”, stated Bald the Fiery, whose belly was now hidden, and only his muscular arms were visible. The assembled Orcs looked more powerful and menacing, but now they also displayed an air of civility. Brained had also donned armour and a helmet, and there seemed to be a sense of unity within the room. “So, my friends, do we pass this motion on clothing?”
“I spit on your motion and armour!” shouted the Pungent. He alone had not put the armour on. “I maintain my challenge despite this filthy bribe.”
The Marauder sighed, “Please, Lord Mountain, be reasonable. There is no need for bloodshed here.”
“Reasonable be damned, you would have us behave like poppies to beg the favour of humans! We can take what we want of food and plunder from the humans on the tips of our blades and our hunger for batt…” There was a squelching sound as Brained the Marauder elegantly withdrew his mace and brought it crushingly down on the unprotected head of Mountain the Pungent. His towering frame tottered for a few seconds before toppling over. “All in favour of clothing through armour?”
“AYE” was the resounding response as the blood pooled on the floor.
“Motion Passed.”
