"The filthy greenskins are but a horde of craven cur, I say! Watch with your own eyes, for I shall display the dominance of a chivalrous knight blessed by the God-King and see them driven before me!" - Last words of Damien Scrimshaw, knight-commander of the first orc subjugation expedition.

Cal spotted the first signs of an orcish caravan on her sixth day of travel in the prairie, as she discovered remnants of fire-pits and buried latrines not two days old, with enough tracks to have easily followed after the caravan. She skipped rest for that night, and caught sight of the caravan in the evening of the next day, as she caught up to them just as they stopped to rest for the night.

The caravan was a larger one than the thirty-wagon group the Bronzemane clan she met possessed, for by her count at least fifty if not sixty wagons formed the large circle where they corralled their herd of livestock - of which she saw aurochs, water buffaloes, bison, as well as some goats and lambs probably imported from beyond the plains, for she had not recalled any goats or lambs amongst the wildlife she had seen on her journey in the plains so far.

Cal waved her hand when she was certain that she was close enough that the orcs on guard duty would have spotted her even in the distance. She could see as one guard reported to another, who apparently relayed the message, for shortly afterwards she noticed a small contingent of five mounted orcs as they separated from the circle and approached her.

She took a good look at the five orcs, all five impressive specimens of their species, large, tall, and with muscles as hard as rock. Their chests, arms, and faces liberally slathered with blue and yellow paint that formed patterns, which she assumed had traditional meanings for them. Four of the orcs rode bull aurochs, but they all paled before the splendor of the orc in the lead of the small formation.

The orc in question was easily a head taller than his brethren, and looked simultaneously savage and valiant astride his fearsome mount, an adult male saber-toothed lion as tall as Cal herself. As if his mount was not impressive enough of a sight, the orc also wore a helmet fashioned from the head of an even larger specimen of the same species, his face shown from the wide-open maw, while the rest of the lion's hide formed a cape that draped his broad back, its front paws tied under his neck to secure it in place.

"Hail, stranger!" Greeted the orc with a loud, bassy voice, in flawless common. "What brings you to the encampment of Clan Beastfang on this fine night?"

"Just a traveller headed for Gal-Morogh, good orc." Cal replied as she gave a slight bow with her arms crossed and her fists at her shoulders. A specific gesture in orcish etiquette which signified that one wished for peace, rarely taught to outsiders, and she noticed the orc's brow quirk in curiosity as he saw it. "Might I avail of the hospitality of your hearth for this eve?"

"Haha! A friend of orcs arrived on my daughter's blessed day! This is a very good omen from our ancestors." Said the lead orc with a bark of harsh laughter that nonetheless conveyed his clearly great mood. "Come with, stranger, let it not be said clan Beastfang be slacking hosts!"

"My thanks for your kind hospitality, good orc. May your ancestors smile upon your endeavors." Said Cal, the words she gave were the ritual words of acceptance of hospitality amongst orcs, which she learned from Helga Bronzemane - who she met again and caught up with during her stay in Paradise -, whose tribe originated from these very lands. The lion-riding orc gave another of his laughs at her word, clearly very satisfied with her politeness.

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"So what should I call you, stranger? I am called Bogdan, chieftain of the Beastfang." Said the large orc as he introduced himself now that they were seated by the circle. She was not surprised to learn of his position, for she noticed that all the other orcs gave him bows of respect and deference as they passed by. "I am curious where a stranger learned in our culture hails from."

"Well met, Chief Bogdan of the Beastfangs. I am called Celeysria Ambervale, hailing from the Al-Shan Empire." Cal introduced herself with another slight bow. "Martriach Helga of the Bronzemanes had told me many tales about these lands."

"Ah! So you know of old Helga? I pray she is well in her old age." Replied Bogdan, some surprise evident in his features. "She used to be famous here in her younger days, but we rarely hear of her since she retired and joined the mercantile caravan of her clan."

"Matriarch Helga is hale and hearty for someone of her age last I met her in Paradise. Last I heard she would be departing for Knallzog around this date."

"That is good to hear. Thank you for bringing good news and omen on my daughter's blessed day, Celeysria of Al-Shan. Now I bid you, drink with me!" Said the orcish chief as he proffered a wooden bowl to Cal.

Cal sniffed the contents of the bowl once and took a sip, after which a smile formed on her face as she took a larger sip of the hot beverage. The beverage turned out to be a strong, fragrant, bitter tea - not too different from the Hartbloom petal tea she herself liked -, lightly salted and with copious amounts of pure butter mixed within, which gave it a rather thick texture with a rich flavor that left her mouth fragrant for a while.

"Tonight is your daughter's blessed day, chief?" She asked for clarification.

"Indeed, my friend, tonight I shall welcome a son-in-law to my family. Please do join us, for having a friend of orcs as witness will bless them!"

"It would be my honor."

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So it was that Cal found herself in the seat next to the orc chief as they bore witness to the orcish wedding ceremony for the chief's daughter. Said daughter was half a human, not a surprise for Cal was already introduced to the chief's wife, a middle-aged human woman who worked as a trade official, a go-between to the orcs for merchants in Ezram, before her marriage.

The wedding ceremony itself was… for the lack of a better word, unique. First the couple - the groom was a young warrior Cal already met, as he was part of the chief's retinue that rode out to greet her earlier, a position she learned was reserved for the best warriors of the tribe, which the chief's daughter would be a part of had she not been occupied with preparation for her wedding at the time, something the groom had less responsibility on.

The groom and the bride first bowed to the sky and the earth - Orcs primarily worship Aistrofuri and Pesca as "Father Sky" and "Mother Earth" -, then to their respective parents, then to one another. Then a young auroch was brought out, and the couple hefted the beast together on their shoulders, gave one another a look, then slammed it headfirst onto the ground, the auroch died instantly as its neck snapped. The chief explained to Cal that tradition says that if the couple to be wedded failed to instantly kill their animal, that meant the ancestors frowned upon the union. When Cal queried about the chief's own wedding it was his wife that laughed and told of how the young chief back then threw the beast on his own for her sake.

The young couple then took a knife and slit the auroch's throat, and set a bowl beneath it until filled to the brim with the beast's blood, before each in turn cut a slit on their wrists and dripped their blood into the bowl. Then each of them drank half of the mixed bowl of blood, as two other orcs dragged the dead beast away to butcher it for the feast to come.

Bogdan explained to Cal that the next and final part of the wedding is for the newlyweds to duke it out with one another to prove their dominance, with the winner to be the head of the house. And that was exactly what the young orcs did. They stepped into a prepared ring of stones and started to trade blows and wrestled one another. Despite his superior physique, the groom proved less skillful and the bride heaved him over her shoulder in a mighty throw that drove the breath out of him. She raised both hands and roared in victory.

"So this means your daughter is the head of her household then?" Cal asked, fascinated by the unusual culture of the orcs.

"No, no." Bogdan replied with a wide grin. "This is but the first part of their fight, if young Davor proved able to beat my Mira in the second part, they shall treat one another as true equals and peers, neither above the other, like me and my dearest wife."

"And what would that second part consist of, if I may ask?"

"Why, another battle of course, merely one held on their bed!" Said Bogdan with uproarious laughter, while his wife blushed and elbowed him in the ribs, to no effect. On the field Cal could see Mira drag her newlywed husband - as tradition dictates the winner of the fight do - to the wagon set aside for their privacy, while the rest of the gathered orc cheered them on loudly.

The rest of the orcs got themselves busy as they worked to set up the wedding feast as the newlyweds busied themselves with the second round of their contest.