“All is fair in love and war. Well… maybe tone it down a bit in the love part. Nobody likes an asshole or a bitch.” - Old folk saying.

“Why would they do this?” asked Andromarche as she watched the small group of old orcish shaman and warchiefs gather together and set out towards where the humans set up the meeting place - really just a large tent roughly halfway between the army and the horde - together. “Why go into what’s almost certain to be a trap like that?”

“I sometimes forget that while you had become one of us, you were not born amongst us and aren’t familiar with some of our ways,” commented Warchief Ragusa from nearby, having heard Andromarche’s words. “They went out there, knowing that if it was a trap it would mean certain death for them, because it is likely their last chance to achieve a glorious death in battle, as they wished for.”

“A glorious death?”

“Either dying in battle or during a hunt of a great beast. Most any warrior or hunter wished to end their life that way, rather than to wither with old age on their bedrolls,” explained Ragusa patiently. “Even those who were not amongst the warriors and hunters would view such a death as worthwhile and desirable when they had the chance, hence why the elderly shamans there had volunteered for the task as well.”

“Their deaths would be glorious and celebrated, woven into tales which would be told to the young ones, and their names would be immortalized that way. Most any of us dreamt of achieving a great enough feat to receive such honor, and if it cost us our lives in the process, we would not hesitate to pay the price,” added the young orcish warchief, which gave Andromarche something to think about.

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Meanwhile, Aideen walked alongside the small group of fifteen elderly orcish shaman and warchiefs, all of them highly positioned in their respective Clans, all prepared to sell their life dearly - and she felt that most of them hoped it would be a trap so they would get to do exactly that - against the humans. It was a very different mindset than most people she knew, but one she could respect.

As for herself, her presence in the group was mostly to serve as an interpreter for them. They knew all too well of her nature as an Unliving, and knew that whatever trap the humans had likely set up would cause her no danger whatsoever. She was asked to be present in case the humans truly wished to negotiate, in which case the orcs would prefer to minimize any misunderstandings due to language issues.

As low as the chance of that being the case was.

Even from the distance they could see the tent the humans had set up as the negotiation venue. It was a large, overly decorated tent that almost looked garish in Aideen’s eyes. Its whole existence seemingly intended as a display of wealth and opulence. If the humans thought that such a display would intimidate the orcish horde, then they had thought very wrongly.

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As she approached the tent in the company of the group of elders, she saw a pair of nervous soldiers guarding the opened entrance to the tent. Despite their obvious old age, the orcs with her still possessed intimidating appearances, with their large, broad-shouldered bodies and prominent tusks jutting out from their lower lips.

The average orc might not be much taller than the average human, but they were almost always broader and more muscular in build, their bodies somewhat stockier. Their favored manner of attire had not helped much, as it proudly displayed their toned bodies, their superior physicality openly visible to anyone. Add their tusks which made their default expression look like a threatening scowl to humans, and even older orcs posed a rather intimidating figure.

Much less ones like Warchief Buknug who despite his old age still looked every bit as imposing as ever, standing a good head taller than even Aideen herself and nearly twice as broad. One of the guards visibly flinched when he passed by the man, which elicited mocking chuckles from the group of old orcs and some shakes of the head. Even Aideen joined in on the chuckling.

Inside the tent, they saw a table at the far end, behind which sat a portly nobleman - the way the man dressed himself with pomp and his all-too-well manicured facial hair obvious tells of his status, which he seemed to display proudly - flanked by five fully armored knights on each side. Another forty to fifty armed soldiers formed a half-circle along the perimeter of the tent on the human side.

Their presence could naturally be attributed as guards, but Aideen felt that there were too many for such a simple purpose. It was easier to attribute their presence to potential malicious use, and she noticed the old orcs exchanged glances and nods with each other. Even so, they held their say as they approached towards the table, though they halted halfway in.

A clear divide between the two sides.

The pompous portly nobleman who sat behind the chair ended up being the first to break the silence, his raspy voice - one that reminded Aideen a bit of the croaking of a frog - opening the negotiation, from which she could tell that there was likely no good intent indeed in the offer of negotiation. Not if the nobleman’s words reflected what his side truly thought.

“You! Woman! Tell these savages to get down on their knees and kneel, “ said the man. Then one of the knights by his side - one that had more ornately designed armor than the rest - took up the words from his master. “You are in the presence of His Grace Marquis Leckarsch Voswort of Niole, invested in his station by his Imperial Highness the Emperor of the almighty Clangeddin Empire himself! Kneel down before your betters, barbarians, while we still show mercy to your undeserving kin!”

“What did that one say?” asked warchief Buknug to Aideen. Both men had spoken in the Imperial tongue, which none of the orcs present understood.

Aideen simply related their words verbatim to the orcs, without bothering to cover up any of the condescending implications behind it. The result was a collective guffaw amongst the orcs, while the human side looked baffled yet offended by their reaction at the same time.

“Tell that softling this, everlasting one. Tell him that his so-called emperor has no power here in the prairie, and that he and his had dirtied our lands with their smelly foot. Tell them that they will be spared death or worse if they show wisdom and bring their stinky arses out from our place, or else…” said Buknug to Aideen with a wide grin on his old wizened face. Given how the rest of the delegation nodded along with obvious amusement on their faces, they clearly agreed with the message he delivered.

So Aideen repeated it to the Marquis and his escorts the same way she related his words to the orcs, without any embellishments and all the intended insults behind the words perfectly conveyed in full.