[Location] Ire Main Gate

[Gauls]

Wandering off the southern Sherian trade routes heading northward, leads to a dead swath of fallow dirt, stumps of once mighty trees, and outcroppings of rocks. At the center of this wasteland is a massive stone wall surrounding the city/fortress of Orckon, also known as “Ire” by the Aelyrians. Three spires can be seen projecting up above the thick stone walls like huge spear heads reaching into the sky.

A wagon trail leads up to the single set of iron gates that make up the Main Gate to the city. It makes one wonder why no roads have been built that lead directly to this fortress. Perhaps it is a warning to the passer-by that they should think twice about coming to this place. At a glance, one can see orc guards patrolling atop the battlements above the gates. A pair of worgs with their riders patrol in a constant lope as they walk what seems to be an invisible line that only they can see on the grounds in front of the gate. The beasts give off growls and hisses as travelers pass them but they interfere with none entering the gate unless something peaks their interest*.

The air is this region always has a cool crispness to it regardless of the season and there is a constant wind or slight rain nearly year round that gives this place an eerie quagmire appearance. The massive iron gates are set inside a huge smooth-faced stone that appears to be one solid mass. Grey walls at least 20 feet tall and also smooth-faced flank each side of the gates and stretch the whole length of the city. The only features of the walls are a narrow horizontal archer’s slot that is situated about 5 feet below the massive ramparts stretching the length of the wall and head size pitch holes dotting a space every 15 feet just below the archer’s slot. Other than that, the walls are smooth and featureless except steaks of mold that run from top to bottom in some places.

Once passing the iron gates, there is a tunnel that passes through the width of the walls and empties into the sacred inner grounds, the world of the orc.

Secrets : OOC to assist your roleplaying: *You must post here before posting anywhere within the city *You may RP yourself through this location without a mod. NPCs to use at this location: Name: Lat Race/gender: Orc, male Appearance: standard orc size but sits atop a worg. Has a single braid of knatted grey hair coming down the right side of his head. The hair probably looks grey due to the fact that this orc has never bathed in his life which is standard for most orcs. His odor is only rivaled by that of the beast he is riding. His worg is a standard size as well with a dark brown coat. The beast has one missing fang in his lower jaw from a fight he was in last season. Demeanor: Acts pretty cocky on top of his beast. None are sure how big his ego is when he is not riding his worg. Lat is quick to chastise those entering the gate hoping someone will give him the opportunity to exercise his ego a bit. *NOTE: Humans and dwarves are not welcome in Orckon and must be escorted less they be attacked on sight. Any race that is not a dark race will no doubt be harassed by Lat or any other gate guards.

[Rushnak Orog]

5th Brightening of Cryxatum, Summer of Era XIV (pf)


The area was familiar. From before Rushnak could remember, the orc constantly made trips here with his father. Well, in a way. His father had more important things to do and business to carry out than haul along a young, weak beast who could hardly speak let alone hunt or fend for himself. Thinking about it, father was probably not the best word to use. Instead, the beast whom he looked up to and foloowed was more considered a role model than anything else. One who was obligated to make sure the smaller image of himself stayed alive long enough to be of some use.

The war changed things. As with any war, families were torn apart, homes were destroyed, and hearts were broken. Though the orcs were nowhere close to having the same social structure as the citizens of the Empire, they had feelings in a twisted sort of way. Rushnak had lost his father and he found himself alone. Learning how to defend himself and forage for food became instinct over time and, now that he was older, he realized who he was. More than that, however, he realized who his father was and what he stood for.

Goren Rushnak, Thauk Shapit, was a Captain of a group of orcs who went around giving the Skull Hammer Clan the name they deserved. People feared and respected Thauk immensely and they were right to do so. Jorel only knew how many people and travelers he had killed simply because they resisted a request or order. Rushnak himself, however, had only killed for necessity with only a few exceptions. Not that he had any different morals or any less orkish blood in his veins, but he just never had the whim. Orog was older, though, and knew it was time to serve. It was time to take on a different role aside from hiding from cities and avoiding the public eye.

He approached the gates and witnessed another orc sitting on top of a worg. The animal was almost as ugly had the rider, but Orog came towards them both without hesitation. When he got close enough, he gave the two beasts a look that showed fearlessness and a sense of purpose. Not threatening, but not wavering from his steady calmness.

Orog had no reason to deal with the gate keeper. He only needed to proceed through the gates and into the city. He wanted to take as much in as he could before actually getting involved with anything and a confrontation as soon as he arrived was not welcome. The orc would pass through without a word unless he was stopped and would continue into the city where something inside him would trigger a greater purpose than anything he had felt before.

[Steve]

Quite a few isolated Orc Mobs were scattered in the mountains of the Sheradine Cosmopolis. These Orcs prefered the hard life and usual paucity of food to the city life of Orcken that they heard about. When there was a shortage of travellers and game to nourish them, a Mob would sometime raid the site of another Mob. To the victors belonged the bodies, fresh meat.

Communications were slow to none, but before long most of the independent mobs became aware that the Orcs of Orcken were preparing for a fight, a big fight. Groups of these from the outskirts came to city to get in on the upcoming fight. Usually the group would be less than 100, but they kept coming. By the time all that wanted to come had arrived, their total was 9,000. Each of them was anxious to do battle against whomever the Orcs would confront.

[Gauls]

The worg riders at the front gate were amazed to see orcs coming out of the woodwork literally. These orcs were raw indeed, not well disciplined like the Horde orcs.

"Go! Tell da Bolg!" the gate guard yelled to another. The orc turned and headed inside the city to alert the military leadership of what was outside their gates.

The worg riders and other wall garrison troops came out to greet the mobs that were amassing in the wasteland that surrounds the city trying to keep them organized and prevent fights. A short time later, the mass of orcs had grown tremendously and they were finally met by the clan leader of the Pardahun Votar Bakka Grimlir. Bakka was now in charge of the militart forces in Orckon since the Horde was deployed.

Bakka has decided to take this matter of organizing the mobs into a fighting force personally. He has a Tough Job Ahead.

[Gurz]

Timestamp: 1st of Cryxatum, Summer of Era XIV PF

He walked alone, the last surviving member of his mob after the battles that had taken place. They had been weak, and he had been strong. He was all that survived now of that pathetic brood of meat sacks. It was a miracle that he had been created by such an inferior race of Orcs. Those he had come from weren't more than half a foot less than six feet. They were puny, insignificant and not strong enough warriors to live through a few battles against pink skins.

His black, braided pony tail whipped off to the side in the strong winds, and his scruffy cropping of facial hair on his chin blew to the side with it. The 6'4" heavy set black Orc headed directly for the gate guard who beaked off to almost every passerby. He stopped and stood with his legs spread and his two handed axe in his right hand and beat it against his iron breast plate. He roared at the worg rider and shouted out, "Ju, flower-boy! Monsieur, off dat der worg and ju come fight me, or is ju too pansy?" To make sure that the Orc on the worg understood that Gurz was the dominant Orc here he made a show of barring his teeth, just to accentuate his four tusks.

[Gauls]

Gurz

It was a boring day until Lat finally had someone pay him some attention. Most of the orcs that lived in the city just ignored him simply because they felt it wasn't worth the breath to waste talking to him. But, since Gurz gave him the opening to start with his ego trip, he wasted no time.

"Heh, Lat like being here an' ju down there. Ju not strong enuff ta take down powerful orc like Lat!"

The orc had responded and so did his worg. The beast was snarling at Gurz and waiting for his rider to spur him into an attack. Lat didn't do it however. This was just his way of greeting people to Orckon and feeding his powerful ego. There was nothing Lat was going to do and Gurz was free to enter the gates at his leisure unless he felt the need to provoke Lat further.

[Gurz]

Gurz waved his left hand at Lat and made a rude gesture with it as he gave up on the cowardly Orc. As he walked past Lat and into the city he shouted at the guard, "Ju gat de courage of an Elf! Ju musta had balls cut off! Real Orc woulda fight Gurz!"

He had been seeking to establish dominance right off the bat, like all good Orcs were taught to do but it seemed the Orckon Orcs lived like stone-walled cowards and had lost the true ways.

[Z'kron]

Timestamp: Early cycles of Summer, current era
A grey eyed orc passed through the gates, leaning heavily on a staff. He was unremarkable in appearance, usual in stature and did not stand out in the least form the ground. Clad in a rough grey-cowled robe; he bore none of the obvious raiments of an orcish warrior; bearing no true armor and only carrying a battered metal blade for protection. Yet there was something about him which spoke of power; a confidence in the walk perhaps, or the way he seemed completely uncaring of the reactions of other to him. He was either a saint, a mage or a madman. Possibly all three. And as such, no-one wanted to deal with this strange orc of burning-grey eyes beyond the absolute minimum.
With very little fuss, the orc passed through the gate. He sniffed at the air. Ire again. It had been a while.
Time to follow his destiny. Time to visit the Shamans.

[Steve]

The Apprentice Sorcerer had felt that his Vis reserves had recovered enough, to cast the gate spell to his Anchor in Mystique. Armed with sword, clean underwear, sandwiches and his wits Malkaer sought Clara once more and cast the Waygate spell with the divine link to the one in Mystique. He expected that if everything went right, the clerk who inhabited the office of the former Lieutenant Governor of Lauryl would be in for a surprise…...

However it was the Thane who would be in for a surprise.

He found himself at the Main Gate to Ire, home of the Orcken Horde. It was a long way from Mystique.

[Malkaer Andares]

After teleportation one was always a bit disoriented. However it quickly dawned to the apprentice sorcerer that the place where he had teleported himself to (or had been by someone else) was not the destination of his intention. It was too cold and windy here for an office of the Gubernatorial office of Mystique. Furthermore it reeked here worse than the sewers of New Coldmoon. As the shadow elf regained his vision, grey orbs went over the iron gate up the stone walls. The sight of the three spires made his jaw drop. Instead of a carefully prepared explanation to a startled clerk, all Malkaer could say was: "By Jorel's balls!" Surely he could not have landed where he thought he had..?

[Gauls]

An Esh'lahier just popping up out of nowhere was surely going to draw attention especially when he pops up right in the middle of a 9000 orc gathering out in front of the great city of Orckon. Just shortly after it registered where he was, Malkaer found himself surrounded by greenskins. Before Malkaer could even think about rattling off any spells or reaching for a blade, he was beset by hands that bound his hands behind his back.

"Lat think ju hab trouble eh?" one orc said sitting atop a worg.

It was a sarcastic remark seeing that it was obvious by looking at the situation that Malkaer was in for a long day. Orcs from the gate guard took over custody of the Esh'lahier and they quickly hustled him into the city. Malkaer was going to pay a visit to the Gothmog Kitot himself.

Secrets : OOC: please continue here... Malkaer to see the Gothmog

[Anvael Andares]

Timestamp: Summer, Era XIV Post Fractum
after “A Glimmer of Hope”

It was shortly before noon that a group of Esh’lahier and humans arrived at the gates of Ire. They rode on horses and were garbed in the colors of Sherian. Each one of them was armed. They had the look of seasoned warriors. Their leader was a middle-aged dark elf, a graceful being with silver-white hair and violet eyes. He carried a white flag, big enough that it was noticeable even from further away. He had been chosen to ride first because of his race, because the Governor of Sherian had thought the orcs were more likely to talk to a member of another dark race, that they were less likely to show hostility.

They’d been sent to finalize the treaty that would ensure peace with the orcs. They did not know every detail of the plans of the Governor or the Imperial Government, but there were rumours, hopes that these peace talks might only be used to buy time, time to raise a provincial army, that Narim would never really be used as a trade city. Nobody was particularly interested in that.

The Esh’lahier thought about this as he approached the gates. It seemed unlike the Governor to commit such treachery – as the orcs would without a doubt call it. He’d always been a gentle being, naïve and indealistic. That plan had to have come from one of his advisors – if it was indeed a plan and not just a rumour. It was a good thing that the Governor had advisors, the Esh’lahier decided, otherwise they’d soon have orcs sitting in the Provincial Government.

He really hoped that the Governor would not adhere to this treaty and do everything the orcs said. There was still a chance that Andares would change his mind and not ask the army to attack, but like almost everybody else the Esh’lahier prayed that the young Governor would continue to see reason and did not truly intend to forgive the orcs their crimes.

He raised the flag as he stopped in front of the guards. Orcs had been let into Taralon carrying such a flag. He only hoped it would have the same effect here, and this would not turn into a blood bath. “The Governor of Sherian sent us to deliver a message to the leadership of Ire”, he announced, his voice firm, as if there was no reason to worry. “He wishes to continue the peace talks and finalize the treaty to ensure a Sherian that is safe for everybody.”

[Steve]

The Esh'lahier raised the flag as he stopped in front of the guards at the gate to Ire. The Orcs were all on foot. One stood directly in front of the Truce Flag. Two more Orcs stood to the left. Each Orc had a Morning Star hanging from his waist. When the bearer of the Truce Fag said, “The Governor of Sherian sent us to deliver a message to the leadership of Ire”, he announced, his voice firm, as if there was no reason to worry. “He wishes to continue the peace talks and finalize the treaty to ensure a Sherian that is safe for everybody.”

The Orc standing before the Truce Flag, said nothing nor did his expression indicate an acknowledgment of any sort. He turned and walked off into the city. The other two Orcs remained in place, doing nothing, saying nothing.

The suns were bright and hot, making the wait uncomfortable. However, the two Orcs were subjected to the same discomfort. The Orcs did not drink, nor did they offer any drink to the Peace Party.

Before too long, the absent Orc returned, seeming in no hurry but his message implied some sense of urgency. "Tell da Guvna not ta wait. Ta come ta da same place soon as he can. Everythin' same as before." With a backhand wave, the Orc indicated that their meeting had concluded and the three Orcs walked away.

[Anvael Andares]

The Esh’lahier watched the orcs that were gathered in front of the gates and took note of their weapons and the way they acted. He had never liked those creatures, but it would not have been obvious from the way he looked at him. His face was carefully polite, befitting of a man that had come to deliver an important message. Showing his dislike would have been unprofessional, and he had been in this line of work too long to find that acceptable.

As the orc that had been standing right before the truce flag walked away without saying anything, the dark elf arched an eyebrow and turned around to look at his comrades. They shrugged their shoulders. They did not know what to make of that kind of behaviour either. Should they be worried? Would the orc come back with an entire army in tow?

Seconds and minutes passed as the party from Taralon waited. Neither humans nor dark elves showed their discomfort. They sat on their horses, barely moving, as if they had nothing better to do, as if there was nothing more enjoyable.

As the orc finally returned and delivered a message, the Esh’lahier replied, “The Governor of Sherian will be there as soon as possible. You can bring up to a dozen guards, but no more. The Governor is looking forward to the meeting.”

With that the Esh’lahier turned around and rode away, followed by the other men.

OOC: I'll start a new thread for the actual negotiations. Probably tomorrow. Hope that's okay with you.

[Steve]

The Orcs listened in silence to what the Truce Flag bearer had to say and simply watched the party depart. Though there seemed to be a lack of cooperation, the mission was accomplished successfully and without any unfavorable incident.

The Governor got what he wanted and there were no demands put on him.