"Give a weakling food, they will just leech on you to live on. Beat the weakling up and teach them to fight, and a man might still be made out of them instead." - Orcish saying.

The week-long trip towards Xewaur plains was mostly uneventful. If anything, Cal felt positively spoiled with how pleasant the trip went with the aid of the various enchanted tools she bought in Paradise. Never in her life had she expected to be able to take a week-long voyage where a hot bath awaited her every evening - a luxury she wholeheartedly embraced, even if it did cost a bit steep to purchase, most of the price accounted for by the modified cubic meter of inbuilt water storage -, and a far too comfortable bed in a magically warded tent served as her nightly abode. And all that despite the way her route avoided nearby cities and mostly travelled through wilderness and no-man's-lands.

The few wildlife that were stupid or desperate enough to have accosted her simply turned into her dinner, or simply left as corpses should they be of the inedible variety. Most wisely stayed out of her way, and she returned the courtesy as she left them unbothered and unharmed - she had no need for extra rations anyway.

The only thing that somewhat marred the peaceful trip for Cal was a human supremacist cultist she ran into as she crossed Ezram Kingdom on the final leg to the Orclands. She had basically stumbled onto the man as he tried to preach his 'doctrine' to villagers - most of whom completely scoffed and ignored the man or even ridiculed him as they passed. The man had paused as he caught sight of her as she passed by, then ranted and raved like a madman - which she ignored -, before he pulled a dagger and attempted to assault her.

For her part, she ignored his laughable attempt of an attack, before she simply laid him out cold with a single uppercut to the jaw, the impact of which shattered the man's lower jaw, separated many of his teeth from his mouth, and knocked him straight into unconsciousness.

Amusingly enough, the village militiaman who came to check the ruckus gave her no trouble whatsoever for her violent actions, as he merely noted her name for his report. In his words, apparently that was not the first time something similar happened, and it was but three weeks prior to her arrival that another of the human supremacists raved at an orcish tribe that came to the village to trade.

That got him gutted like a fish for his stupidity. Orcs tended to react much more violently than most when their parents were insulted, after all. It was no real surprise that the villagers favored the orcs - trade partners they had done business with for generations by now - over some local lunatics either.

Curious about the situation in Ezram - for Cal had not exactly planned to avoid the kingdom, just that her itinerary would be smoother if her path had not included backtracks, and Ezram laid between two other powers she wanted to visit - Cal asked whether incidents like these were common to the militiaman, to which he despondently replied that they were sadly more frequent of late, especially in the southern and eastern parts of the kingdom, lands that had belonged to the Holy Kingdom of Theodinaz seven centuries ago.

A theocratic kingdom that hailed their ruler as a god-king and were fanatical believers in human supremacy over all other races. The same kingdom that hung themselves on a noose of their own make when Paradise was founded, as they sent their military out without proper consideration of what over a hundred pissed-off Archmagus could do to it, and was soon left without one. Their neighbors had naturally devoured the territory of the defenseless kingdom, but even after seven centuries, occasional surges of human supremacist cults still happened on a regular basis in the claimed territories.

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As she left Ezram Kingdom behind her, Cal finally arrived in Xewaur Plains. The vast prairie extended all the way to the horizon as far as she could see, though she knew from the maps that the northern side of the plains connected straight to the ocean. A few groves of trees dot the plains here and there, at some places enough of them grew close together as they formed a small forest.

In the distance she could see the wildlife that roamed the grasslands since the time of their ancestors. A small team of wild horse ran freely in the fields, a small dust cloud formed behind them by their hooves, whereas a drove of hairy four-horned aurochs - large, muscular cattle with strong resemblance to the buffaloes and cows usually ranched these days - lazily grazed on the plentiful grass. She could see a herd of bison gathered around a small stream to slake their thirst, while a pride of large, predatory felines stalked them as they awaited their chance to pounce upon an old or infirm member of the herd.

Cal also saw no signs of the orcish tribes that inhabit the land, but that much was within her expectations. She unfolded a map of the plains - procured from Paradise prior to her departure - and took a glance at the sun to roughly determine her location. From her point of entry into the plains, it would be close to two week's travel to Gal-Morogh, one of the few cities established by the mostly nomadic orcs after they came into more friendly relations with their neighbors.

The city itself - and most of the other orcish cities in the plains - were built on top and around ground which used to be where the various orcish tribes ritually gathered for ceremonies, festivities, and events. Aideen had informed Cal that the orcs should have held their once-every-five-year gathering in less than two months from now, so she figured most of the local orcish tribes should be headed for Gal-Morogh, and thus plotted a course for the city.

Either she would reach the city early and have more time to sightsee, or she would run into a tribe along the way and hitch a ride with them there. She wouldn't miss out on the festivities either way.