Tala's temper rose a bit. They were...talking to them? She had believed Orcs to be, for the most part, debased monsters-slaughterers and raiders-though some people said they were honorable, she had heard of no such thing. She recalled a a bit of her military history lessons, which she recited a bit proudly.
"...never trust an Orc.
The last words of General Amala Greenwing, said after the Orc betrayal at Wenevesenama."
Tala remembered...and she was but a Human. Tala had studied General Amala-her ways, her means-and her death...someone to aspire to, she had believed.
...It had been a bitter day, long ago-a short, bloody conflict between the North and South Elves over a mere stolen bride, if the history books had been trusted.
The two forces had met, not in the forests as might have been guessed, but upon the open field-both side, bringing a full array of Phalanxi in golden scale mail and ostentatious war chariots. It had apparently been the most beautiful army to ever march forth from the Elven homelands openly since time immemorial.
The Southern Elves had believed they had a trump card though-they had enlisted the aid of an Orc Warlord-his name lost to history, or purposefully erased by both side to save face-to bolster their forces on the field. Predictably, he betrayed them, sending his wolf riders against their lines while they were unprepared. It had been a slug fest-and all sides had suffered grievous losses, even with the betrayal. The valley was still haunted to this day by angry, vindictive spirits and restless undead.
...In the end, the Southerns retreated-General Amala was the last off the field, holding the retreat, dying from no more than two dozen wounds.
Tala remembered, and she grew angry-that so strong a woman, and so many good soldiers, should be brought low by base Orcish treachery. Her words were heated.
"It seems the Elves have short memories for ones who live so long, sister...the trouble must be serious, for you to repeat your past mistakes."