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[Digital Hellhound]

Tulwor eyed the Orcess' flourishes with a grin. She reminded him, if vaguely, of some barbarian warrior women he'd spent very enjoyable time with, far away from dreary Bellian society. They'd continued their sparring into a blizzard and biting cold, stopping only for gulps of oskai. That drink had the foulest taste he'd ever experienced, but it had kick enough to affect a god, and other pleasant effects they discovered during the night. Tulwor hoped he could rely on the explorer to brew stronger stuff for him than the wine he'd offered.

That was all distraction. Looking at her, he could not help but to feel disappointed. Despite her bravery, this Orcess seemed very frail. A match for an ordinary soldier, perhaps, but not any skilled warrior, certainly not a god. Those barbarians could've skewered her with ease; perhaps even Sarah could have, now. Still, this could be a pleasant diversion - perhaps he could teach her a thing or two. She certainly had agility and speed, no doubt impressive even among her people.

'You take to the spear well,' he said. He made sure there was space around the two of them; the last thing he wanted was some fool getting in the way. 'Let  us begin.'

Tulwor holds back and focuses on defense, eager to see her fighting.

[Weirdsound]

Agony again. And at the fort... "What can you tell me about Agony and his god?"

"The Master of Monsters considers Agony a cleansing agent. One cannot, according to his creed, reject mortality and weakness without first suffering pain enough to kill an ordinary Orc." Widowmaker explains, "Agony wields Transcendence, a truly terrible blade of divine material given to him by his god. When unsheathed, those who have not specifically earned his god's favor, suffer greatly in the presence of Agony's sword. Those who touch it without such favor are doomed to unending pain, that is said to be beyond what a mortal can imagine in magnitude. Such sufferers are usually quick to end their own lives."

Tulwor eyed the Orcess' flourishes with a grin. She reminded him, if vaguely, of some barbarian warrior women he'd spent very enjoyable time with, far away from dreary Bellian society. They'd continued their sparring into a blizzard and biting cold, stopping only for gulps of oskai. That drink had the foulest taste he'd ever experienced, but it had kick enough to affect a god, and other pleasant effects they discovered during the night. Tulwor hoped he could rely on the explorer to brew stronger stuff for him than the wine he'd offered.

That was all distraction. Looking at her, he could not help but to feel disappointed. Despite her bravery, this Orcess seemed very frail. A match for an ordinary soldier, perhaps, but not any skilled warrior, certainly not a god. Those barbarians could've skewered her with ease; perhaps even Sarah could have, now. Still, this could be a pleasant diversion - perhaps he could teach her a thing or two. She certainly had agility and speed, no doubt impressive even among her people.

'You take to the spear well,' he said. He made sure there was space around the two of them; the last thing he wanted was some fool getting in the way. 'Let  us begin.'

Tulwor holds back and focuses on defense, eager to see her fighting.

Unrest lets out a warcry that makes most of the gathered gods uneasy for reasons they cannot understand. Auratus, however notes it to be quasi-draconic in nature, a tool that she likely didn't fully understand herself designed to frighten and overwhelm those not used to it.

The Orcess then charges, delivering a flurry of thrusts that Tulwor easily deflects with the long handle of his signature weapon. She then changes tactics almost completely, and begins to fire off leg kicks with the intention of cutting her larger opponent down to size. Tulwor notes that his divine flesh and bone would be solid enough to break the leg of his attacker should he choose not to give a little when such a blow connects.

The giant also notes that Unrest's stance and maneuvering often brings her close to the ground, where she often sweeps a cupped hand in the direction of her opponent's face. It is likely that somebody on the beach is encouraging the Orcs to throw sand at people's eyes...

After getting her bearings, Unrest begins to mix spear attacks with leg kicks. Occasionally, perhaps because she has never encountered such a weapon before, she swings the Polearm as if it were a bludgeon. Once in a while she further diversifies her attack with a high kick to the body, or an attempting punch of eye-gouge with her off hand. Tulwor, however, has no trouble deflecting, dodging, or absorbing all of her blows.

About a minute and a half later, Unrest's attacks begin to slow down as exhaustion begins to set in. Just as Tulwor is pondering ending the fight, however, the Orcess prepares for a final devastating attack; She abrubtly leaps backward to give herself space, before crouching and launching herself straight at the Bellian giant, spear aimed right at his gut.

Against a foe with lesser reflexes, such an attack would likely end the fight in Unrest's favor, but for Tulwor, the world seems to slow down, giving him time to admire the attack and counter it as he chooses. The spear, although dangerous, is almost certainly a feint of sorts to draw the giants defenses low; It looks as if her true aim is to gore Tulwor in the neck or throat with her dangerous tusks. Regardless, such a charge leaves her open.

[Digital Hellhound]

Very pleasant, indeed. He'd not encountered this way of fighting before. It did not seem to suit him, but he would remember when facing off against these Orcs later. Likely their gods had similar tactics, at least those in the shape of Orcs themselves. The savagery of it was something very new, but if it was primal, it was not crude, but a trained way of fighting that best suited this people. He made appreciative grunts when he saw something particularly pleasing as she danced with the polearm swinging wildly. Once or twice he could not resist speaking; 'With a spear, you should thrust,' and 'Fierce, very fierce! You chose well, Pyrite,' to the side.

He could see the woman's exhaustion begin to get the better of her; that she had enough energy for one last attack was pleasing. He shook off idle thoughts as the Orcess leapt forward, making his decision.

Tulwor roared, and with all the speed and power of a divine being, charged forward. If the Orcess was surprised, there was no time for it register in her eyes. The hulking god brought one heavy arm to block the spear, letting it slide off his forearm with a cut not much worse than a nick. Then he was upon her, his bulk slamming into the Orcess before she could leap away or aside. Bone cracked; it was like hitting a stone wall. The Orcess' head snapped back and her knees toppled. Tulwor let her slide down against him, hands feebly reaching for something to hold onto, before she collapsed onto the floor.

'Well fought, Orc. Your honor is yours. I would like to face you again some day, when you are stronger. Perhaps you could be trained here. Your fire will make a fine example to the Bellians behind their walls,' Tulwor said, though he could not say if the Orcess could hear him. Several bones had to be broken, but he had no doubt these Orcs could take pain well.

He picked up the spear, grimaced slightly, and in one deft movement plunged it deep into Unrest's outstretched right arm. Blood spurted as the spear fell deeper and deeper - if the Orc did not twitch from the pain, she would from the nerves severed. Tulwor let it carry through, felt the tip pass through bone and more flesh and cut into the floor beneath. Yes, he had crafted fine weapons, this time.

The arm would be useless. In fact, it was hanging on by a few tendons of flesh, and better to be cut off. Better to be replaced.

'You are broken. A weakling might wish to die. A warrior fights to her dying breath. Does your fire spring from hate, your slighted honor? Either way... tend to that fire, and live, Orc.' he said, softly.

He rose and turned to Pyrite and their watchers. He fixed his gaze on the rest of the Orcs. 'I have judged your kind wrongly. You serve a dragon who is no Orc at all, but this is a warrior. This is an Orc.'

That had done him a world of good. He felt he could think clearer, now, though the thought of Chell in the hands of the dragon still enraged him. He would taste its blood... but perhaps he could afford to wait.

---

Tulwor leaves Unrest mangled but alive - if fairly grievously injured.

[IronyOwl]

Pyrite let out a slightly irritated sigh as Tulwor maimed his Orcess. Maybe she'd be able to recover from that on her own, but more likely he was going to have to deal with it at some point. He began wondering what a fitting replacement arm might look like or do.

"Well then, now that that's done, where do we stand? I've got the pirates and Tulwor has the weapons, so I say we arm the Bellians and flank the Orcs. I think Unrest was correct in suspecting that we should avoid taking the field ourselves.

Chell's trickier, because we know nothing about her save that she's bait. I think we should avoid giving him or them the direct, immediate confrontation they were presumably hoping for, and try to find a subtler way to sneak or barter her out."

He turned to Harpylips. "Would the Grand Strategem ever agree to selling us someone he had taken to provoke us? And what happened to your face and voice?" he added, moving closer to inspect the Orc for himself.

"And you," he continued, nodding to Widowmaker before turning back to Harpylips, "Tell me more about this creed. What blessings does he grant to those who succeed? Are his chosen many in number? What does he do besides amass wealth and create monsters?"

[Weirdsound]

'You are broken. A weakling might wish to die. A warrior fights to her dying breath. Does your fire spring from hate, your slighted honor? Either way... tend to that fire, and live, Orc.' he said, softly.

He rose and turned to Pyrite and their watchers. He fixed his gaze on the rest of the Orcs. 'I have judged your kind wrongly. You serve a dragon who is no Orc at all, but this is a warrior. This is an Orc.'

There is a pause here, as your translation powers take a few seconds to work out your statement. It occurs to you, through translation feedback, that the Orcs make no distinction between Dragonkind and Divinity.

"Are you proposing that our gods are not our gods?" A smaller one near the back of the crowd works up the courage to ask.

Pyrite let out a slightly irritated sigh as Tulwor maimed his Orcess. Maybe she'd be able to recover from that on her own, but more likely he was going to have to deal with it at some point. He began wondering what a fitting replacement arm might look like or do.

"Well then, now that that's done, where do we stand? I've got the pirates and Tulwor has the weapons, so I say we arm the Bellians and flank the Orcs. I think Unrest was correct in suspecting that we should avoid taking the field ourselves.

Chell's trickier, because we know nothing about her save that she's bait. I think we should avoid giving him or them the direct, immediate confrontation they were presumably hoping for, and try to find a subtler way to sneak or barter her out."

He turned to Harpylips. "Would the Grand Strategem ever agree to selling us someone he had taken to provoke us? And what happened to your face and voice?" he added, moving closer to inspect the Orc for himself.

"And you," he continued, nodding to Widowmaker before turning back to Harpylips, "Tell me more about this creed. What blessings does he grant to those who succeed? Are his chosen many in number? What does he do besides amass wealth and create monsters?"

Inspecting Harpylips, you can tell that the core of his problem is a simple birth defect, aggravated by various folk 'medicine' techniques. The Orc himself confirms this by stating that "I was born bad, and the blades and acids of the shaman made me only worse."

He ponders your suggestion of buying Chell back for some time, with a pained look on his face. You wonder if the concept of a Ransom was something that Orckind is even familiar with. Harpylips eventually answers with a sheepish "I don't think so."

Widowmaker, on the other-hand, is quick and useful in his answers. "The Master of Monsters uses his treasures and creations to further the interests of his brother gods as needed, but also seeks a way to subvert the greatest commandment given to our Pantheon by their late mother. Mortals are forbidden from knowing what this commandment is, but supposedly it is what keeps our Pantheon from regaining strength after losing most of its number to the dread beasts in the mountains."

"As for what blessings and how many are blessed,"[/color] the Orc continues, "most blessed Orcs are blessed so hard that they can no longer be considered Orcs. It is hard to tell which monsters kept by the war chiefs are uplifted followers, which are made from scratch by The Master of Monsters, and which are caught in the wild."

[Digital Hellhound]

Tulwor stared. Growing up in Fletchtania's court had not prepared him for debating theology. What made a god a god? Father would likely speak of duty. Mother also, he supposed. Without duty they were only monsters. But then, some of the gods of Bellia cared little for any kind of duty. 'Tell me, Orcs, what does this god do for you? Does it answer your prayers? Battle beasts that threaten you? Or does it simply lord over you with nothing to give?'

Most of what had been discussed had passed his ears, but he perked up at the mention of his own name. 'I am glad if the mortals go to battle at last. Their commander must be dealt with first, of course. He seemed overly cautious, if not cowardly,' Tulwor said. 'But as for Chell... barter? No, son of the Devourer, we will find her and bring her back. Somehow. If she is bait, as you say... it matters little. She is our blood, and she has been taken.'

He grit his teeth. 'At least... let me create some distraction, while another takes her. I could take the dragon's attention elsewhere, or all of them, for as long as is needed.'

[Weirdsound]

Tulwor stared. Growing up in Fletchtania's court had not prepared him for debating theology. What made a god a god? Father would likely speak of duty. Mother also, he supposed. Without duty they were only monsters. But then, some of the gods of Bellia cared little for any kind of duty. 'Tell me, Orcs, what does this god do for you? Does it answer your prayers? Battle beasts that threaten you? Or does it simply lord over you with nothing to give?'

"He answers prayers when it suits him, and steps in to aid against the monsters in the mountians when needed. He also give law, and teaches us the order of things so that we may be satisfied with our place." The Orc answers. "Is that not what you do for your people?"

[Digital Hellhound]

Tulwor waved him off. 'I suppose. Very well. I tire of this topic,' he said, waving Helmhammer in a vaguely threatening way. He cared little for laws and teachings, and there was nothing to sink his teeth into in the rest of it.

[escaped lurker]

Pyrite let out a slightly irritated sigh as Tulwor maimed his Orcess. Maybe she'd be able to recover from that on her own, but more likely he was going to have to deal with it at some point. He began wondering what a fitting replacement arm might look like or do.

"Well then, now that that's done, where do we stand? I've got the pirates and Tulwor has the weapons, so I say we arm the Bellians and flank the Orcs. I think Unrest was correct in suspecting that we should avoid taking the field ourselves.

Chell's trickier, because we know nothing about her save that she's bait. I think we should avoid giving him or them the direct, immediate confrontation they were presumably hoping for, and try to find a subtler way to sneak or barter her out."

" Well, I would not call it my plan, since Oinkiny is the one who desires to do so, but I would have arranged for him to cook up a feast for the besieged soldiers. It should do wonders for their morale, and if we let them do so a few days prior to the attack, then on that day they should have far more energy to spare. " He shrugged lightly. " Sure, it is nothing grand, nor did anyone involved ever intend for it to be so, but it will even our odds somewhat. Looking at the current circumstances, if one of you proper gods were to attend the feast, not only would our cook be more secure out there, you can always rile the troops up further. As for me, well, to be honest - neither my reputation, nor my disdain for much of bellian war-stories would make me a good co-host for that occasion. "

~

Having looked at the bout, Auratus was satisfied with the response that had been handed to the mortal. Even if he was not as tied to the title of god than the others were, if it was dragged through the mud he would also suffer under it. " Well then, I think there is little doubt that our... guests, is it? think of themselves about as honourable as they seem to be. Still, how does taking hostages fit into that? Among the society of our mortals, the taking of hostages is one of the most most vile and dishonourable acts, used to make others submit to the offender, mostly for demands that he could not achieve otherwise. Do tell us, why would doing such a thing be an act even remotely consistent with the honour you speak so dearly of, lest the gods gathered here continue to think of your patrons lower than you would think of our mortals for being cowards. "

After hearing the answer, he quizzed further. " You always speak of the monsters that live in the mountains, but what are your exact relations towards them? How did it come to pass that so many of your gods were taken by them? Thinking about it, I would also be interested how the orcs place the harpies and those ominous little people. "

[micelus]

Hearing what the gargoyle had to say, Ketemos said his goodbyes and made a note to visit this elementalist in the future; there were more pressing matters to attend to...


---
Ketemos had watched as his brother gods had questioned the green-skins, how the orcess had raged and used the very power of the Dragonkind on dear Tulwor. It mattered little though; he had beaten her easily enough and Ketemos expected the orc to live...for now at least. It was a pity that she had even given the challenge...but stopping her would have been unlikely in all likelihood.

Shaking his head, Ketemos made an inquiry now that Auratus had brought up the topic. "By any chance, does the entity known as Patches sound familiar to your people?" He said to the orcs as a whole.

((Changed the question))

[Weirdsound]

Having looked at the bout, Auratus was satisfied with the response that had been handed to the mortal. Even if he was not as tied to the title of god than the others were, if it was dragged through the mud he would also suffer under it. " Well then, I think there is little doubt that our... guests, is it? think of themselves about as honourable as they seem to be. Still, how does taking hostages fit into that? Among the society of our mortals, the taking of hostages is one of the most most vile and dishonourable acts, used to make others submit to the offender, mostly for demands that he could not achieve otherwise. Do tell us, why would doing such a thing be an act even remotely consistent with the honour you speak so dearly of, lest the gods gathered here continue to think of your patrons lower than you would think of our mortals for being cowards. "

There is some confused murmurs among the Orcs at this. Clearly the thought that kidnapping might be dishonorable has never occurred to them. Eventually Widowmaker offers the closest thing the group gives to a clear answer. "If you feel you are strong enough to take somebody without fighting them, it is the right thing to do. To hurt your lesser without good reason is a grave sin, so if you feel the difference between you and your desired slave is so great that a fight is not nesscescary to sort the situation out, it would be wrong to offer them a fight. They could only gain false hope and inury, so it is better you just take them instead. To use dirty tactics and Kidnap somebody stronger than oneself because there is no other way, would indeed be as rotten as you say."

After hearing the answer, he quizzed further. " You always speak of the monsters that live in the mountains, but what are your exact relations towards them? How did it come to pass that so many of your gods were taken by them? Thinking about it, I would also be interested how the orcs place the harpies and those ominous little people. "

"The mountain terrors views us as a shepherd might view a sheep; As food and resources. To them, other creatures are not beings worthy of respect, judgement, and sorting, but merely exist for them to use as they see fit." Widowmaker explained, "They will surely tear you apart for your limbs, and do the same to your people if they are allowed. They took the first few of our gods through trickery, and most of the rest in battle when they provoked us by killing our Pantheon's mother."

"The Harpies," Widowmaker continues, "rose at the height of this war, and used trickery and sheer might to pin the beasts in the mountains. We sometimes support the Harpies by sending condemned but physically fit Orc Men into the jungles to meet their fate and father Harpy Children. We most often ingore them though; As we no longer have Goddesses, they refuse dealings with us, and as they keep the monsters away from us, we would be doing our own cause harm by trying to sort them with a violent attack.

The little people have clearly proven themselves better than the Orcs, but worse than our gods. The are allowed to enslave and exploit the nearby tribes as they see fit, but if they get too greedy, our Pantheon puts them back in their place."

Ketemos had watched as his brother gods had questioned the green-skins, how the orcess had raged and used the very power of the Dragonkind on dear Tulwor. It mattered little though; he had beaten her easily enough and Ketemos expected the orc to live...for now at least. It was a pity that she had even given the challenge...but stopping her would have been unlikely in all likelihood.

Shaking his head, Ketemos made an inquiry now that Auratus had brought up the topic. "By any chance, does the entity known as Patches sound familiar to your people?" He said to the orcs as a whole.

The Orcs talk amoung themselves for a few minutes, before concluding that none of them have ever heard of such a being.

[IronyOwl]

Most of what had been discussed had passed his ears, but he perked up at the mention of his own name. 'I am glad if the mortals go to battle at last. Their commander must be dealt with first, of course. He seemed overly cautious, if not cowardly,' Tulwor said. 'But as for Chell... barter? No, son of the Devourer, we will find her and bring her back. Somehow. If she is bait, as you say... it matters little. She is our blood, and she has been taken.'

He grit his teeth. 'At least... let me create some distraction, while another takes her. I could take the dragon's attention elsewhere, or all of them, for as long as is needed.'

"Well, no doubt a coward won't deny the wishes of at least two of his gods, at least. If he proves ill-suited I can get Nightcharm to take over."

He thought on his latter words for a moment before nodding. "We will need time to learn her whereabouts, but when we do, I will ensure you have a part in whatever scheme we come up with to free her."

"The mountain terrors views us as a shepherd might view a sheep; As food and resources. To them, other creatures are not beings worthy of respect, judgement, and sorting, but merely exist for them to use as they see fit." Widowmaker explained, "They will surely tear you apart for your limbs, and do the same to your people if they are allowed. They took the first few of our gods through trickery, and most of the rest in battle when they provoked us by killing our Pantheon's mother."

"The Harpies," Widowmaker continues, "rose at the height of this war, and used trickery and sheer might to pin the beasts in the mountains. We sometimes support the Harpies by sending condemned but physically fit Orc Men into the jungles to meet their fate and father Harpy Children. We most often ingore them though; As we no longer have Goddesses, they refuse dealings with us, and as they keep the monsters away from us, we would be doing our own cause harm by trying to sort them with a violent attack.

The little people have clearly proven themselves better than the Orcs, but worse than our gods. The are allowed to enslave and exploit the nearby tribes as they see fit, but if they get too greedy, our Pantheon puts them back in their place."

"Oh?" Pyrite said, suddenly intrigued. "How'd the little ones manage that?"

[GiglameshDespair]

Secrets of the little bird: Give me information on the dragon-god of the orcs.

Ketari hummed and shifted on the throne, starting to lose patience. She'd repeated what she was going to say enough. The blood of her blood was calmer, now, at least. She looked at the crippled orc and dismissed it - the blood of a land-walker gave her none of the deep-thrill that the dismembering of fliers did.

"Of course," she spoke louder, "We should still deal with the fact a enemy lizard-bird could swoop into our castle and steal our staff without issue. Our own dragon, it seems, did nothing. This must be dealt with as well, yes?"

----

After the council was over, she gathered the barkers freshly grown on the domain. There, she separated forty of them into a new pack. She picked out enough fro mthe remainder to have one of each domain and the Castle itself, and focused energy.

They twitched as their forms twisted. Amber eyes sprouted over their heads, seeing through the darkest nights with ease. Their lungs swelled and throats widened, until their bellows could be heard easily from the castle. They clambered and flew to the highest points of each domain and the Castle, crouching, wooden gargoyles seeing all.

Using the throne powers

Ketari creates the Watchers, Barkers modified with incredible sight, hearing, and the ability to call loud enough to be heard on the castle - by the dragon. They have different calls for enemies, allies, and unknown, but little combat ability themselves.

[Weirdsound]

"Oh?" Pyrite said, suddenly intrigued. "How'd the little ones manage that?"

"They have gleaming weapons, and armor, and walls. They can usually beat us in open battle, and their food is grown deep underground, so seige does nothing to them; They rarely have reason leave their fortress. Luckily they breed slow, and don't seem to have military ambition beyond self defense, so they are no threat to the Orcs in the big picture.

[escaped lurker]

After Ketari had eventually ordered the orcs to leave, Auratus took it upon himself to speak first. " Well then, I hope we are in agreement that we should stay our hand against the orcs. Our mortals should be able to handle them, but if we intervene directly, they might call some form of crusade against us, dragon and orc alike. No, our goal should be to bring those learners unto our side, and give them what they seek. If we are able to gain amicable relations with them, we give them enough support that they can stand their own in a civil war. True enough, the orcs will grow from what they learn, but it will be a matter of decades until that knowledge has spread far enough. Years of more or less peace that we need to prosper our cities, can use to gain more influence among the orcs and similar. " He shrugged. " It might be a bit of a gamble, but the odds are not too bad, nor are we unable to shift them further into our favour. "

Letting anyone interested in challenging his point of view speak, the dragon continued with another topic, looking at the bird goddess while doing so. " As for the matter of who should sit on the throne, I will stay by my previous decision. Ketari, while you are indeed and without a doubt the greatest huntress amongst us, this is not a hunt, but a war. If anyone is eligible as a god of war amongst us, it is without a doubt your brother. Leave the preparation of battle to him. Also, depending on what that harpy you have left over has seen, we might as well let her go. " Sending an inquisitive stare at those in question, he continued. " Should my fellow gods which are gathered here see it differently, and have her retain the seat, I will take the liberty to openly speak out that it is but her that has a grudge against the harpies. Please understand that as the guardian of Selma's Gate, I can't have them attack the city over the whims of one single individual. As stated, some other time? Surely, with pleasure even. But not now. "


Auratus spiel continued forth, as he announced yet another proposal. It was not something that had sprung into his mind suddenly, no. He had thought of it before, for while only smithing souls of the mighty would yield noteworthy results, he was sure that he could substitute class with mass instead. There also was the matter of his dead followers having to fear Glacianas wrath, for he thought her as petty enough to do so. Either way, it was very unfitting for the souls of their followers to be shipped away, especially when they had dire need of their services right here. " Lastly, you speak of crafting what we would need, but here I would have thought Tulwor to be the craftsmen of you two? While it would interest me what you have in mind, I will have you lot know, that it is I whose crafts are to be coveted! Like his father, let Tulwor bring in the souls of our faithful, and leave Mortus only those that still serve the old Pantheon. We need not to make them fear death, like cruel Glaciana does. For all of your talking, the greatest tyrant of them all, gets to keep your dead.  Either way, as we can't rely on Corusu's storm alone, how about we make the Frozen Domain into a stronghold of the deceased? Those that lived in accordance to our ways, will have the honour of bolstering our defences. Those that sinned against us, will be judged by me, and reforged under my claws, to aid us as they refused to do so in live! Obviously, those that would see such an act as an honour, would be invited to aid us in such ways as well... "

Letting his speech pan out with a pregnant silence, he asked. " Well then, what are your notions towards what I have proposed? "