BiggusGeekus
That's Latin for "cool"
I thought I'd post this. Enjoy!
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Garaht stared at the half-blood in a derisive fashion, but he was filled with uncertainty. You couldn’t trust orcs that were part human. You never knew for sure who they really stood for and in the heat of battle they could always sneak off to the other side. They were treacherous and cunning, much like the humans themselves. Garaht decided to start with small questions and see where that led him.
“Your tattoos are human made. An orc skin-artist would have done a much better job.”
“I did them myself. I wanted to mark myself to make sure the humans wouldn’t mistake me for one of their own. I drew them so you could trust me.”
“Bah! That is a pathetic excuse!”
Actually, it was a pretty good one. The humans tended not to have tattoos or at least made a show of concealing them. They demonstrated which tribe they were from by waving colored cloth into the air. Inherently dishonest, because they could just pick up another colored cloth and claim to be from a different tribe. But you could instantly tell where a fellow orc had come from just by looking at them, a much better system. The half-blood had cut himself off from the humans, but he would never find acceptance among the orcs unless he got them all removed and re-applied, which made Garaht wonder about other things.
“Why are you leaving the humans half-blood? Their fires are warmer and they are all fat.”
“Because their fires only look warmer from a mountain away. They are losing; the humans are no longer fat. They grow hungry and desperate. Gadohig will crush them. There will be no other outcome.”
This confirmed other information Garaht received. The humans were slowly falling back and they would eventually be driven out. It was good to hear. But there was still the matter of the half-blood’s resolve.
“What proof do you bring that I can trust you?”
“These.”
The half-blood removed his backpack and emptied the contents on the ground. Four human heads rolled out.
“You can trust me, because I have killed humans and you can take me before a shaman and have the truth of my words tested against magic.”
“Ha! That will be good fun, half-blood! We shall do just that!”
Garaht grabbed the half-blood by the shoulder and pushed him forward, but smiled openly. If the half-blood was willing to have his words tested then that would be good enough. The tribe could always use another strong arm and his looked like it would be a good one. The humans would die all the faster.
* * *
Cyrith and Brollin watched the orc and half-orc walk off. They were hidden but they stayed still and silent. You never knew when one of the orcs might be wandering past. After a time, when they were sure they were safe, Brollin whispered to Cyrith, “Are you sure it will work?”
“Of course, I’m sure. The orcs will put their truth spells on him, but he actually did kill those four people so he’ll be telling no lies.”
“What?”
Cyrith grinned, “They were Remarian bandits who tried to escape the empire and had tried to try their craft up here. We caught them, but had the half-orc execute them. So, in a way, he’ll be telling the truth.”
“And we’ll have a spy.”
“A very nice arrangement, if I do say so myself. Let’s go.”
The next time Cyrith saw the half-orc, its head was on a pole with a sort of symbol of warning to others who might try such a ploy. The orcs, it seemed, were not as dim-witted as he hoped.
-------------------
Garaht stared at the half-blood in a derisive fashion, but he was filled with uncertainty. You couldn’t trust orcs that were part human. You never knew for sure who they really stood for and in the heat of battle they could always sneak off to the other side. They were treacherous and cunning, much like the humans themselves. Garaht decided to start with small questions and see where that led him.
“Your tattoos are human made. An orc skin-artist would have done a much better job.”
“I did them myself. I wanted to mark myself to make sure the humans wouldn’t mistake me for one of their own. I drew them so you could trust me.”
“Bah! That is a pathetic excuse!”
Actually, it was a pretty good one. The humans tended not to have tattoos or at least made a show of concealing them. They demonstrated which tribe they were from by waving colored cloth into the air. Inherently dishonest, because they could just pick up another colored cloth and claim to be from a different tribe. But you could instantly tell where a fellow orc had come from just by looking at them, a much better system. The half-blood had cut himself off from the humans, but he would never find acceptance among the orcs unless he got them all removed and re-applied, which made Garaht wonder about other things.
“Why are you leaving the humans half-blood? Their fires are warmer and they are all fat.”
“Because their fires only look warmer from a mountain away. They are losing; the humans are no longer fat. They grow hungry and desperate. Gadohig will crush them. There will be no other outcome.”
This confirmed other information Garaht received. The humans were slowly falling back and they would eventually be driven out. It was good to hear. But there was still the matter of the half-blood’s resolve.
“What proof do you bring that I can trust you?”
“These.”
The half-blood removed his backpack and emptied the contents on the ground. Four human heads rolled out.
“You can trust me, because I have killed humans and you can take me before a shaman and have the truth of my words tested against magic.”
“Ha! That will be good fun, half-blood! We shall do just that!”
Garaht grabbed the half-blood by the shoulder and pushed him forward, but smiled openly. If the half-blood was willing to have his words tested then that would be good enough. The tribe could always use another strong arm and his looked like it would be a good one. The humans would die all the faster.
* * *
Cyrith and Brollin watched the orc and half-orc walk off. They were hidden but they stayed still and silent. You never knew when one of the orcs might be wandering past. After a time, when they were sure they were safe, Brollin whispered to Cyrith, “Are you sure it will work?”
“Of course, I’m sure. The orcs will put their truth spells on him, but he actually did kill those four people so he’ll be telling no lies.”
“What?”
Cyrith grinned, “They were Remarian bandits who tried to escape the empire and had tried to try their craft up here. We caught them, but had the half-orc execute them. So, in a way, he’ll be telling the truth.”
“And we’ll have a spy.”
“A very nice arrangement, if I do say so myself. Let’s go.”
The next time Cyrith saw the half-orc, its head was on a pole with a sort of symbol of warning to others who might try such a ploy. The orcs, it seemed, were not as dim-witted as he hoped.
