What Honor?

[Caelria 2618]

What Honor?

---

18th of Malin's Welcome, 25 s.e.

---

It is the nature of the orc to be honorable. Such is the orc's standby. The orc's mantra. The orc's prayer. It is how the green skinned orcs of Almaris have learned to coexist with dwarves, men, and Elves in spite of their bloodthirsty nature. To combat their curse, that the orc does not fight without meaning. That the orc may stand tall and proud as descendant, not monster. That the orc might not be reviled and hunted, but welcomed and understood. The honorable Rex Zhot understood the place of honor in orc society. A Rex of aggression only in recompense to the slights of their peers. An orcish state to rise above their curse.

 

It was with a heavy head the Elves of Haelun'or mourned the passing of the rex, and the expiration of his treatise with their state. That while once these honorable and misunderstood descendants might be unlikely allies on the field of battle, that opportunity would through Zhot's passing fade. The rescindment of assurances of peace between the Elven and orcish people was to be expected, but what the Elves could never expect -- nor anticipate -- of the honorable Rex Zhot's former followers would be dishonor. That these Orcs who once fought on the field of battle as allies would lift their blades not in fair combat, but in uncunning and deceitful ambush against the proud Elves -- once allies -- of Haelun'or without word or declaration. That they would execute our soldiers, veterans of the conflict, in denial of honorable combat for their own lives. That they would watch their isle like hidden snakes, waiting for their warships to sail to meet with their fellow powers of Almaris that they might slaughter Haelun'or's defenseless women and children.

 

What honor?

 

When the orcs raided our roads, they did so without provocation. They sought not conflict, nor accolades. They fought young women, and fled when the Sillumir rode to meet them. For weeks we ran them through the mountains, and for weeks they would hide in caves -- only to show their head to lone young Elves, lost and unequipped.

 

What honor?

 

When the orcs captured Eradus of our Sillumir, they did so without provocation. They asked for nothing and desired nothing, save bloodshed, and so in their blind aggression towards the realm of Elvenesse they seized one of our people in Eradus; killing him remorselessly and without terms.

 

What honor?

 

When the orcs sailed for the peaceful and secluded isle of Karinah'siol, they did so without provocation. They sailed not to sate their honor. They asked for nothing and desired nothing. What the uruk saw was not transaction, or honorable conflict, but opportunity. Spying the delegation of our military's heads sailing for Providence, they sailed quickly to the isle to put siege to the citizens now thought defenseless; engaging in what would, by their design, be honorless conflict. Slaughter of Elven women and children.

 

What honor?

 

The Orcish Horde without Rex Zhot are not only without a head, but without their blessing; committing atrocities and unsound action that befit their monstrous nature rather than that of the proud descendent. The orc did not sail as soldier. They sailed as monster. As greenskin. As the bloodthirsty animal, and not the upright descendant. Something the Elves, once allies, could never foresee...

 

...But for which we were thankfully prepared.

---

Haelun'orian Sillumir and Elvenessi Leadership join the fray outside of the Haelun'or gates; 18th of Malin's Welcome, 25 s.e.

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As the orc was driven out to the sea and away from the gates of Haelun'or by its auxiliaries and response from their cousin elves of Elvenesse, they fled to the water in the wake of white warships' sails on the horizon. Chased with blade, and with arrow, driven to Krugmar in their longboats; the High Elves of Haelun'or did not pursue. The Elves who returned, the leaders of Haelun'or, had only one question on their lips as they surveyed the chaos.

 

What honor?

---

Haelun'orian Sillumir chase down a separated Orcish raider, 18th of Malin's Welcome, 25 s.e.

---

With whispers of Orcish alliance with the Trade-State of Sutica, the Dwarves, Elves, and Men stand to wonder what this new axis of deception and evil might have planned; and what forces stand to join them in their warband. 

 

To those who would consider; we say this. Do so and ally with the forces of chaos and anarchy on Almaris.

 

To those who count themselves among that axis; the Elves of Haelun'or and Elvenesse want only for your honor to return to you, that we might be spared this bloodshed, and that no more precious lives might be wasted in honorless defense from reckless aggression. That we might finally cease in our asking of that miserable question.

 

What honor?

---

Othelu Orrar, Sohaer of the City-State of Haelun’or,

in accordance with the Silver Council of Haelun’or and will of the High Elven people

 

[Ryloth 4312]

 

Haskir recalled the moment he'd fired so many arrows at the Krugmari raiders that his arbalest tore apart, falling to pieces in his hands before lofting a second crossbow to continue launching bolts forth with. His horse trampled the Haelun'orian earth, armor jingling as he loaded another bolt on horseback to fire it into the fray post-haste. Thunk! He struck an orcish warrior, but their armor stood strong enough to withstand the weapon. Thunk! An arrow returned from the greenskin cracked against his shield before he prodded his stallion on.

He recalled when he pulled the lever of the gatehouse mechanisms, steel portcullis thundering down to slam atop the orcish interlopers and trap a single orcish soul inside the city -- only to be cut down by valiant Sillumir to soil the never-tainted ground with foreign blood.

He recalled when before the orcish raiders arrived, he had captured the uruk Burgharz'Grat to inquire about the unbecoming dishonor in Elvenesse, the murder of a Sillumiran corporal in cold blood -- though mercifully releasing him rather than taking his tusks, flaying his hide, removing his arms and legs.

 

Next time, though .. mercy would not be so free.

 

Haskir cleaned his weapons and armor for yet another day, but this time his ire for the orcs returned once more.

[The Media Wizard 2953]

 

 

Never before had the Lord Commander felt so proud of his men. When Haelun'or called, Amaesil gave the word; when Amaesil called, his men arrived. The visions of elven unity were seeming more and more realistic in the gloom of the Orc Tribute War.

 

Lord Commander Amaesil Vuln'miruel, High Warden Aerendyl Hawksong, Guardsman Gailien and Guardsman Tadorn Kesereth slid into their boats and sailed the seas toward the northern shore of the Silver State. They landed on the shore of their cousin's island and were welcomed with glee at the northern gate of the High Elves. With haste the Elvenessi sprang down the pure white streets of the city until they joined the host of elves at their front gate.

 

 

After hours of waiting, the call was given. A plan was devised and the Elvenessi would barrel down the orcs like waves on the rocks of Amathea. With a blow of a horn, the Wardens and Emerald Guard led the Sillumir out of the front gates and into the orc warband with a thunderous roar of metal boots on pavement.

 

 

The orcs fled and the Lord Commander stood with his longsword — amaelaurir — drenched in the blood of his foes. He looked to Gailien as the guardsman pulled their weapon from the corpse of Alog'Bazra the Vile. The two elves shared a glance. The lives that they had watched been taken by the orcs during their last raid on the Woodland Realm were on the road to being rectified. Today, no Wood Elves fell.

 

The orc raiding ships vanished into the distance and the Elvenessi — while small in numbers — stood alongside their High Elven cousins and declared yet another victory.

 

 

With a handful of final words to the Sillumir, the Elvenessi boarded their boats once more and began to set sail. Amaesil smiled as the sun began to dip over the horizon and the wind sent his crimson robes snapping about. He spoke words so soft that perhaps his own kin did not hear him:

 

"Today the orcs tried their ferrum against a true foe — and lost."

[Morigung-oog 2282]

"Oh how far they've fallen."
 

Valindra emitted a prolonged sigh as she prepared for her wedding in the depths of her own home, checking over the silken fabrics of the gown she was to wear. The Okarir couldn't help but frown at the thought of her fallen comrade, her alchemy teacher, the subject of her rage as an officer when he set fire to the barracks. A bitter sensation washed over the mali'thill, who turned to look out of the window of her accommodation.

 

"Krug himself would be ashamed."

 

The Okarir'maehr recalled the events of the previous eve. The raid. The moment when she laid eyes on the orcs trying to break down the doors to the city, their vicious cries for fights and otherwise in their primal, savage tongue. She remembered an elfess, suffering from an chronic ailment of the lungs that inhibited her ability to fight, to run, to exert herself. Despite this, she put her life on the line to defend the city she loved so. 

 

She and her ally emerged from the fight, her softly glowing Thillsteel blade stained with the ichor of unworthy uruks. The woman beside her could barely hold herself up, yet she did, due to her undying loyalty to the state. 

 

That was honor.

 

When the crowds dispersed and her patient was dealt with, her thoughts once again travelled to that of Eradus, his corpse, his demands and pleas for a true fight. She did not know what had overcome the uruks... Were they truly that afraid of one 'thill? And a mage at that.. Her lips pulled downwards even further at the thought of her comrade's head being rended from his body, given no chance to defend himself.  

 

"Uruks are supposed to value honor.. Have honor."

 

These thoughts, along with the other numerous transgressions of orcish kind in recent times, lingered within the depths of her troubled mind even as she lay in bed. As her eyes fluttered to a close, and her mind faded from the realm of consciousness, two final words passed her lips as she entered her slumber.

 

"What honor?"

 

 

[SacredSource 213]

May comrade Eradus rest. A grand-chemist and dedicated mage. The soldier who fulfilled his duty, leading civilians to safety even against all odds. He died proudly with his honour intact in the end.

 

What honour is there of the Uruks?

[Slorbin 1771]

res(pected)

[Shmeepicus 3941]

Kultha'Gorkil looked over at his fellow Orc's, tilting his head slightly. "Latz klomped wyfuut mi?" 

[Elite Snipes 3542]

Korgahk wondered why the elves talk about such honor like they have been orc themselves, when they haven't stepped a foot into Orcish Territory. During the recent raid of the Elveneese Korgahk recalls challenging the elveneese to come out and fight a fair fight, but no action was taken. If the elves had such honor they should not be afraid of meeting the Krugmar forces out in battle, only the sword and axe to deciede the fate of each other. While you read your books and warm yourselves around your hearth the peoples of Krugmar under the leadership of Rex Azhug'Gorkil bring the orcs to a new age. Rex Zhot laid the works for a new age and brought about a great time  for the orcs, but he is not the end. The raids Will continue and your people will continue to Die by the hands of our people as you continue to aggress and aid the snakes and rats of the Elveneese. Finally Korgahk went to meet with Rex Azhug about new war plans for the future. 
 

Spoiler

 

Edited May 21, 2021 by Elite_Snipes_

[Xx_BloodStalk_xX 2120]

Back and forth.

The Dark Lord thought to himself, placing today's paper at his side and looked about the horizon. Just a little bit longer.

[_Indy 134]

Ferek laughs heartily upon reading the missive, his outburst startling a few of the patrons sitting at the bar with him, "Ask yer' dead 'ef honor matters, 'ter silence should suffice an' anseh! 'Ell, ah 'tink 'tem orcos are pretteh' smart, 'tey 'it 'ter enemeh quick 'n clean!"

 

The startled patrons would exchange looks of confusion as the dwed went back to chuckling, downing another pint of Grandaxe Ale.

Edited May 21, 2021 by _Indy

[Vilebranch 280]

  Savage, Beast, Brute, Monster. To an orc these words could only be used as compliment, as affirmation of an uruk's legendary status. But Dishonorable? Hearing such a word from one of his kin could be enough to send a more simple-minded orc into a violent rage. There is no greater insult.

   And yet here Skorkon reads the words of an elf yet again calling his people dishonorable. Skorkon never was fond of his people's so-called 'Honour'. More a cause of in-fighting and weakness than a virtue. Each orc has their own definition, and confusion over the topic runs rampant. But that is not the nature of the elf. The elf does not wish to see orcish society healed of its weakness. The elf wishes nothing more than the end of orcish civilization. To see them scattered across the land or annihilated entirely. The elf lacks even an understanding of their own definition of honor, writing propaganda and conspiring with foreign nations.

   A crude message has been carved into the wood below the missive, "Your propaganda falls on deaf ears. Know this, elves. When the people of Amaethea become slaves to the Orcish Warmachine and their city lay in ruins, we shall come for you. Haelun'or shall burn, just as my ancestors set ablaze to it in Asulon. May your Gods have mercy, for we shall not."

Edited May 21, 2021 by Vilebranch

[Slorbin 1771]

1 hour ago, Vilebranch said:

  Savage, Beast, Brute, Monster. To an orc these words could only be used as compliment, as affirmation of an uruk's legendary status. But Dishonorable? Hearing such a word from one of his kin could be enough to send a more simple-minded orc into a violent rage. There is no greater insult.

   And yet here Skorkon reads the words of an elf yet again calling his people dishonorable. Skorkon never was fond of his people's so-called 'Honour'. More a cause of in-fighting and weakness than a virtue. Each orc has their own definition, and confusion over the topic runs rampant. But that is not the nature of the elf. The elf does not wish to see orcish society healed of its weakness. The elf wishes nothing more than the end of orcish civilization. To see them scattered across the land or annihilated entirely. The elf lacks even an understanding of their own definition of honor, writing propaganda and conspiring with foreign nations.

   A crude message has been carved into the wood below the missive, "Your propaganda falls on deaf ears. Know this, elves. When the people of Amaethea become slaves to the Orcish Warmachine and their city lay in ruins, we shall come for you. Haelun'or shall burn, just as my ancestors set ablaze to it in Asulon. May your Gods have mercy, for we shall not."

Grug'Greenz'Gorkil stares at the carving blankly. Wub dah zkah? He thought. We'z dubn't hafta roight in blah? The orc's mind suddenly clears immensely. I don't have to THINK in BLAH?

Edited May 21, 2021 by Slorbin

[tea with Gwyn 217]

"If you did ne wish for more bloodshed," Lya observed, musing quietly beside the bulletin board in Amathea, "then you would ne taunt our orcish foes into further conflict, would not relish in the bloodshed you claim to regret. This is propaganda, disgusting."