The rules are simple but deep. It reminds Noche'Wa, in some ways, of chess. He barely knew the game, but he knew the simple rules hid a very complex game, this one felt much the same.
Korz ponders the tent carefully then adds, "You are strong and hard. Perhaps it would be good for you to see my people. I may not represent us fully." He does not offer Noche'Wa to stay in his tent.
Korz's face is unreadable. This is obviously a test. Could the soft pinkskin even survive a night with his kind?
At Noche'wa's question Korz says, 'Choose your fire wisely." And that is all.
Unlike Korz, who seems to keep human hours, most of the orcs are a lively bunch at night. Night is when they live, the 'time of life'.
At the fire a roast goat is being spitted, and three orcs sit around arguing about some arcane point of faith mixed in with unlikely tales of personal bravery and martial prowess.
They fall silent as Noche'Wa comes up, and the eyes glint in the dark.
'Why would a man wish to share a fire with us?" one offers in a gruff voice, then another adds in a soft hiss, 'What do you ring to the fire?"
'Need?" The orc asks with a puzzled sound, "Nothing?"
He grunts and points, 'Yatur brings drink. Azuk brings meat." he points then at himself, "Gaakt bring stories. What do you bring?"
'Laughter?" the orc echos, sounding unsure but interested. 'Do you bring jokes or are we to laugh at a pinkskin trying to share a fire with us?"
Then, 'or perhaps he does tricks, like a dog?" The one with the deeper voice offers, not much humor in his voice. 'Or maybe he makes funny sounds when you stick him..."
Two of the orcs laugh a bit, more from the unexpectedness then from the actual humor. The other orc grunts and spits into the fire. 'I've heard better." he mutters darkly.
But the other orc stands up and says, "You may join us at our fire, stranger. What is your name and clan? You are not from Manhome, I would recognize you."
He waves Noche'Wa to a seat beside him. 'What brings you to sit with us, eh?"
Noche'Wa's words are accepted in silence. The Shoanti are no friend of the orcs, raiding and fighting long having plagued both sides.
"That is a task of many lifetimes." The one who seems most accepting says. 'Much would be lost on both sides, if that happened. Would it be worth it?"
The deeper voice orc speaks up now, "We would be soft. Letting pinkskins at our fires....forgiving the raids, the trials of our ancestors, forgetting our own triumphs! We, the descendants of Belkzen, sit side by side with those that slaughter us, even now?"
The other orc cuts in, "In any case, it is not something to be done in one night. Do you wish to sleep, Shoanti of the Shundar Quah. I know your kind are not as fond of the dark, as we are."
'I have told you our names. Yatur, Azuk and I, Gaakt."." Azuk is the deep voiced orc who doesn't approve.
'We are of the Death's Head tribe." He grumbles and points to Korz, 'We are allied with the Empty Hands of Urgir. They have allowed us safe passage to trade with Manhome."
The orc grins widely, teeth shining. 'You like stories?"
With a trained voice of an accomplished storyteller, Gaakt launches into a story about a brave female orc who assembled a tribe of orc warriors. Over time though, she upset a powerful rival family. They planned to kill her by treachery and deceit.
So, instead, she faked her own death and let them believe they had victory. Then, she disguised herself as a dead spirit and visited one member of the conspiracy every night. She slew each in horrid fashion. A rumor grew of 'Death's head' a horrid visage that would come and claim them.
In terror they fled but she hunted each down and killed them. Finally, after a year, she returned out of the wastes and regained her tribe. She named it 'Death's head' in honor of her long vengeance.
Gaakt tells it with real skill, using different voices, pitching his voice low for dramatic moments, describing each slaying in brutal detail. after it is finished he looks at Noche'Wa, wondering what the reaction will be.
The orc's look surprised at Noche'Wa formal words. The Shoanti can tell they are pleased however, although their rough faces hide it well.
'I did not expect a pinkskin to be so well-spoken." Gaakt says, pausing a moment to spit into the fire. 'You are not much like those in Manhome.'
Gaakt grins, 'Urgir is an orc city. The only orc city. It is great, in ways beyond words, pinkskin. The great rusting towers reach tot he sky, while great pits and caverns lie below. Truly, a strong place. But I cannot tell of its secrets, Mouse."
But one of the others nods, 'Our tribe live int he city now, yes. Under the protection of Grask." There is an edge to the word 'protection' but that could just be the orcs rough accent.
'Do you venture to the city?" Gaakt asks.
Noche'Wa talks for hours to the orcs. Gaakt seems amused to explain customs and habits to Noche'Wa but Azuk grows more and more angry.
Still, the SHoanti learns much. He is surprised that much of the orc customs revolve around trust and respect, after a fashion. For example, here at this fire, he is under the protection of the owner (in this case Gaakt). Any betrayal of Noche'Wa would be a betrayal of Gaakt as well. This outlook pervades orcish society. Even a simple meeting in the street, if between equals, is a tense stand-off of mutually assured destruction.
It is only if one side sees the other as below respect that the inherent violence breaks out. A strong, almost ludicrous, willingness to fight actually prevents unneeded violence. Too often though, humans misunderstand and reach for their own weapons, which escalate into real bloodshed.
Noche'Wa also learns orcs do not shake hands, that spitting is accepted social behavior and that feeble old age is considered a failure. Better to die proving self-worth then linger on useless. Noche'Wa also learns that magic is a deeply respected art among most orcs, and that the religion is beyond discussion with an outsider.
Noche'Wa notes Azuk eyeing him closely as the conversation winds downs. But the burly orc makes no move.
The orcs actually laugh at Noche'Was offer. 'What do we need of that? We know of the humans. They cower behind locked doors and armies, they put men in crowns of golden chairs and fawn over them. The lesser men die when the other men order. It is all very crazy, chaotic and weak." Gaakt laughs, and Noche'Wa sense it is a joke, but with a grain of truth, to the orcs.
'Although I have heard the Shoanti are not always so?"
Azuk then says, his deep voice edged, 'The Shoanti are killers." His words cool the laughter and a tense silenced breaks out.
Noche'Wa gets a few hours of sleep before being awakened by orcish laughter. It is Korz, looking well-rested and in fine humor.
'So, you retreat into Manhome? Were my kind too rough for you? or perhaps you miss the sweet sound of falling water?" he moves to kick at the spring but the sleeping elf (the same sleeping elf from before) moves slightly in slumber and Korz pauses, then refrains.
'Have you changed your mind, pinkskin?"
Korz laughs and kicks Noche'Wa in the side, not too hard but more then a human would have. He hears the orc sit down on a nearby rock.
"So, did you have a wild night then? Too much for you to handle it? or is it the drink that fills your head with fog?"
"I would like to see you try." Korz says and then adds, in rougher tones, 'Come on. We have many leagues to cover. Traveling during the day is bad enough, let alone without a break at midday. The longer you wait, the tougher I will push you." The orc seems pleased at this idea.
Korz throws a hard loaf of bread at Noche'Wa's head.
The Shoanti catches it one-handed with ease. The orc grins and says, 'So you are awake then. Good, let us leave. This place makes me uneasy. Too many eyes...."
And indeed, maybe of the people of Turanau are looking at the orc with unfriendly eyes indeed.
As they leave on man Noche'Wa doesn't know calls out, 'Careful, lad. They are not to be trusted. It is all well and good here, where we can help you, but alone in the wild with the likes of him..." he just a chin to Korz, who keeps his eyes downcast. Noche'Wa can sense rage inside the orc though.
They manage to leave Trunua without much fanfare, Noche'wa being carefully watched. Men leaving with orcs is unusual, even more for a journey. As soon as they clear the walls korz relaxes, falling into a lanky, easy stride.
'So, tell me. Did you spend time with my kind last night? What did you learn?"
They have hours to travel, northwest. Korz mentions they have to cross a small river, then they will find the Skittermounds and only then Skull Hill.
"Hope?" Korz says, reflecting, "Hope for what, exactly?"
Last time they traveled, Noche'Wa was 'in charge' and had set the pace and goals. Now the orc takes control and he sets a very hard pace. He nearly jogs over the rolling hills and the few rocks. Even as they enter bands of woods, he barely slows. The Shoanti notices the orc warrior glancing at him, sizing him up.
Noche'Wa manages to keep pace. The Wild Mouse is no stranger to wild lands, and is at ease among the untamed wilderness. A few times they pass signs of others which Korz avoids.
'Other orcs. This is a battleground, if a large one. We must be careful." Their fires are small, with little smoke. Korz keeps them moving though and soon they stand on the bank of a large rushing stream.
The watercourse is filled with large rocks and stone, which the water flows swiftly over. The remains of a stone bridge stands on both sides, but the span has long since fallen in.
The orc makes a face. 'I've never cared for swimming."
The orc gives Noche'Wa a disgusted look.
"Too far to jump." Then he grunts, "I thought the bridge was still standing. We might have to go look for a ford..."
Korz looks at the fallen stonework. "What do you intend? I might be able to shoot a rope across, but it we cant fix it well enough. And I don't want to swim in. I've heard tales of big fish in those waters." The orc eyes the swirling, rapidly flowing water.