Changes (Turn and Face the Stranger)
Rating: Mature
Relationship: Orc X Female!Human
Warning: Strong Language, Near death, Robin Hood rip-off
Word Count: 3,821
Captured by a very handsome Orc, Alice has to convince him of her cause before her day to hang. Can she swing this big oof to her side before it's too late?
_________________________________________
"commander Irek Fells," he greets with the deepest voice I ever heard," Is this Alice Belmond?" I stare up at the large man, seeing him tower over everyone with his broad chest, thick arms, and great stature. His face seems to be stuck in a permeant scowl like he never smiled a day in his life. A deep scar splits the right side of his face over his eye down to his jaw. His tusks are banded with gold at the base. He is a terrifying man, and the effect he has on all the guards around is evident.
"Y-yes," the captain clears his throat," Yes. Alice Belmond the woman who has successfully robbed three of our deliveries to the capital. Each guarded with our toughest men but she bested 'em on every turn."
While the captain boasted my efforts I watch as the orc's jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth, his brow furrowed into his eyes. Even in a casual conversation such as this he looks pissed as hell. The others standing behind seemed to be rattling in their boots. Which is understandable, this behemoth of a man could take on all of them with his hands behind his back. Crush their skulls with just his thighs.
As I gawk at him he catches my eye. He sneers before crouching down to my level-which is a feat in itself- and gets into my face.
"You have committed crimes against the king and the capital, what do you say in your defense, human?"
I stare into his eyes with my own open wide and my mouth slightly parted. This close I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. I can see the puckered scar over his eye. My heart beats wildly in my chest; my palms are sweaty, shoulders stiff, and butterflies in my stomach. I feel words escape me, falling off the tip of my tongue. I have to say something, so I spew out the first thing I can.
"fuck, you're hot."
Well, that was an awful thing to say.
--
Captured, thrown into the carriage like a dog. I guess big scary commander Fells doesn't like compliments. It's not my fault really, I have that rare condition called 'no filter from brain to mouth'. It's truly fatal, with no cure in sight. It's really his fault for being so damn sexy in front of me, with my condition I was doomed from the start.
I huff, blowing the hair out of my face. I wince as the carriage rocks a bit too hard on a rock, my hands tugging on the chains. They couldn't at least invest in some leather to wrap around these things? The person who made these never had to be in them I guess.
I sit up to look out the window, watching as we pass the gates into the castle. I roll my eyes at the grand façade that is the royal guards. A bunch of goody-goodies, never had to work more than lifting a sword in their life. Which is why it was so easy to rob them blind. Well, not this time I suppose, but I blame the commander. He isn't like the rest of them, first off being an orc. Sure there are a few amongst the soldiers that aren't afflicted with the human genome, but he is almost a whole different game altogether. For starters being so damn gorgeous. I snort before falling back on my ass to await the dribble that will be the next few hours.
"Where is the rest of your group," an angry human demands for the umpteenth time. I wiggle back and forth on my chair, checking out the rest of the room with way more interest than I give this conversation.
"Pass," I tease, rocking back on two legs of the chair. The man growls, like some sort of caveman. These guys can't even bother with a please or thank you. So rude.
"Do you even understand what kind of trouble you are in," the guy tries to bait," You are in the middle of being sentenced. The death penalty has been out on you for going on a year. You are just rat food waiting to happen, so just spill it and maybe we will make it quick."
I snort, "Fat chance."
He punches the table, storming off like a child. The door slams behind him and I'm left to my own devices once more. I'm not too worried about these losers. In a week, my group would have made a plan and be in the middle of busting me out of this 2-star hotel. I bounce on the two legs, glancing around without a care. There is nothing these guys can do to shake me.
The door is swung open again, I turn to greet the poor fool who is tasked with me.
"Alice Belmond," Commander Fells greets. I'm caught off guard for the second time today as I fall onto my back. The chair had slipped out from beneath me as I push against the table too hard. Irek huffs as I groan in pain.
"I swear I'm more graceful than this," I grumble as I try to wiggle myself forward.
"I'm sure," he answers as he grabs the back of my chair and lifts me up. I catch a whiff of his earthy scent, good god what this man could do to me.
I'm righted and only mildly embarrassed. Commander Fells sits across from me, his rough hands sitting clasped on top of the table. Those are working hands, not like the last guy who was here. Such prissy little mama's boy hands.
"Where is your group hiding," he cuts to the chase.
"Damn, no foreplay? I knew something had to be wrong with you," I tease. His jaw clenches minutely
"Where is your cargo kept," he asks.
"At your mom's house, I haven't seen her in a while. Does she miss me," I prod. He takes a breath before continuing,
"Who is giving you information on our routes," he doesn't move a tick this time. I want to copy his posture, all straight and no bullshit. If only my hands were free, perhaps a bargaining chip?
"Release my hands and I'll tell you," I offer with a playful grin.
"Alright," he answers as he stands. I'm startled, staring up at him skeptically. This is some sort of trick, I'm sure of it. Maybe some good cop, bad cop shenanigans. He pulls a set of keys from his belt, holding my chains to unlock them. The cuffs fall with a loud bang to the dirt floor. I slowly bring my arms forward, watching him closely as he sits across from me.
He cocks a brow, "Think you can fight me to the door?". I'm almost caught off guard by the joke, I can't even bother to fight back the smile. He won't even offer one in return though. He is back in his original position, all business and no bullshit.
"Dekon Woodsmith," I offer in good faith. I couldn't give a damn who they find to be the dirty rat of the kingdom, I have at least 5 more. The king isn't well-liked and most people are more than eager to join a cause that can help their families that are hurt most by it. Besides, Dekon has his own informants to help him in case of this exact situation. I just got to give him some extra sweets as an apology.
"Where is your team," he asks next. I huff at the lack of reaction to my answer. Just straight business.
I lean forward on my hands, "Are you always business, you ever had a vacation?"
"Where is your group hiding," he asks instead. I roll my eyes and lean back into my chair.
"A nice spa day would do you some good. I'm sure there is some big muscle lady who can work those knots out in no time," I tease.
"Why have you betrayed your kingdom," he asks next. I chuckle at such a ridiculous question. Who is this guy?
I cross my arms, "my kingdom? What a ridiculous thing! This isn't MY kingdom, he isn't my king. What a load of shit."
"Watch your tone," he threatens," you must be loyal to our king."
"Loyal, to him? What another crock of shit," I turn and spit," That man is but a rich child given the powers of a god. What has he done for me? For his people? I spent all last week helping HIS people and I don't get any respect. Perhaps if I sit around doing fuck all I too can get a line of men ready to do my dirty work. Get bent."
I can't even bother to look at him for such a dumb demand. Loyal to the king, what a fuckin tool. Ireks tries to get more but understands the conversation is over as I stonewall him. He leaves the room shortly, and another guard funnels in to chain me up and escort me out.
As I pass by the Commander I give a snide comment," Perhaps your loyalties blind you for only a fool would worship a selfish creature like him."
--
I toss a ball I found at the wall for the millionth time. Perhaps I should have made our check-in dates sooner than a week. I'm so bored here! I need some excitement, some drama. Maybe a little bit of that hunky commander. Just to see, I don't need him to speak. When he talks it's all ruined…well, almost.
The rubber ball hits the stone wall. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Dear god end this suffering!
The rusted-over door at the end of the hall screeched open. Good god, they need some maintenance in here. 1/10 stars for this abode. Steps echo down until it stops at my gate. I turn to the side to get a proper look at my guest.
"Commander Irek Fells," I forgo catching the ball for raising my arms in the air," Welcome to my humble home away from home!"
"I have questions for you," he grumbles, clearly not entertained by my antics. I sit up in my bed, resting my forearms on my knees.
"Only if I can ask you a few questions," I shoot back. He rolls his eyes, turning to pace the space in front of my prison.
With a wave of his hand, he answers, "As you wish."
"No shit," I asked genuinely surprised," Oh man, um… Do you have a girlfriend?"
He tosses a look at me, an interesting smirk just peaking at the ends of his lips. "Pass," he answers," Where are you from?"
I mope for a moment, resting my chin in my palm. "No fun, I didn't know we could just veto questions."
He shrugs, "You started it."
"alright wise guy, I'm Exeter. A little fishing town by Paddlefoot," I answer.
"I know of it, you're pretty far from home then."
"There is this amazing thing called 'carriages', they can take you from one place to another," I poke back.
He shakes his head, "What started you on this line of thievery if you are from a fishing town, not a family trade I hope?"
"Uh-uh, it's my turn, big guy," I wag my finger at him," What do you do for fun?"
"Whittling. My question is the same, what started you on this line of thievery?"
Whittling, how cute.
"I knew a guy who knew a guy who was screwed over by a king. What do you whittle?"
"Animals, fish mostly. How was the man 'screwed over'?"
"Good old fashion taxes and beatings," I give a solute in mock respect," Why did you join the royal guard?"
"Had to. What do you do with the stolen goods?"
I smirk at the question," Donations", I wait for his reply to that.
He is just as confused as I hoped he would be," Donations?"
" To the screwed-over friends I make," I cock my head to the side, eagerly awaiting his retort.
"People screwed over by the king," he asks, finally stopping his pacing.
"Bingo."
He rolls his eyes," filthy little gutter rats. The king has nothing to do with your screwed-up little lives."
"says the orc living in wealth," I snort. His jaw ticks again, that wonderful bit of anger. "You are looking a little peeved there big guy. It does nothing good for your beautiful complexation. Try smiling a bit more."
He throws a snarl at me before walking out. I jump up to the bars, calling down to him as I reach an arm out, "Hey, it's my turn!"
The door slams with a wack and a screech. I drop my arm with a fake pout, " I guess not."
--
Today's the day I get out. There isn't much I can do with all this pent-up energy, just eager to get out of this stuffy place. The few times I've been thrown in here have been 'swell' but I can admit I will miss my little talks with Commander Sexy. Such a waste to have such a beautiful specimen wasted in this place. I was hoping to pick at his resolve and tie him to my cause but he is just damn stubborn. No matter, I'm sure our paths will cross again someday.
I bounce that damned ball against the wall again, waiting for my cue. Sunset becomes dark, and dark becomes way too late. I sit up in bed looking around. Maybe I'm too early? I stand up and look out the poor excuse of a window for any sign of my gang.
"Where are those idiots," I mumble to myself. My investigation is cut short by the damn squeaky door opening. I quickly lay back down, bouncing the ball as I await my favorite person. Even if it's a bad time, I'm always glad to catch those jeweled tusks.
I hear a group of people and the ringing of chains hitting the rocks on the ground. A cacophony of insults and cursing as a large group is tossed into a cage. I jump up, running for the bars to check what is going on. Before I can get a good look Commander Ireks blocks my view.
"Good evening," He greets with a triumphant grin. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened. For the first time since I've been here, I'm actually worried.
"You son of a bitch," I reach out to grab his shirt. He backs away with a chuckle.
"What? No handsome today," he teases. I don't like this look for him.
"I'm not finding you that appealing at the moment," I swing for another go at his shirt.
He laughs," Caught your escape plan, a bunch of bumbling idiots if you ask me."
"fuck you," I snarl," they are MY bumbling idiots!"
Irek's smile is so wide as he begins to walk away. I'm sure he feels like a million bucks right now, that won't do one bit.
"You know he is killing families," I shout," killing them on the streets like dogs!"
He pauses, glancing over his shoulder.
"He doesn't give a damn about his people if they can't fund his damn parties. How often do you hear noises from his room? A maid or two going missing, huh? Put it together you damn orc! He isn't worth this bloodshed," I nearly plead with him to pay attention. To actually get this through his head.
He grinds his teeth, glaring at me. I challenge him back, chin raised and ready for a fight. He doesn't give me the satisfaction, turning and walking away.
"That's right you run you coward," I bark out. My gang follows suit, yelling profanities and insults.
That son of a bitch
--
Today is the day. Not like before, today is the day I get sentenced. I can already feel the noose on my neck like an accursed necklace. When the guards come to grab me I can only put on a brave face. I'm paraded past my group still in their cell. They all try to reach out, shouting words of comfort to me.
The light is blinding as I'm in the summer heat. A group of wealthy aristocrats surround me as I'm marched to the platform ahead. Insults, curses, and even fruit are thrown at me. I just stand tall and walk ahead.
I slowly walk up the steps, meeting Commander Irek Fells with a stare that could kill a lesser man. He meets me with indifference. That bastard.
The hooded man guides me ahead, the noose hanging in front of me like death herself. I let out a shaky breath. It draped over my neck and I realize how utterly fucked I am. I have no tricks, no illusions, no one to save my hide. I look up at the king sitting up on his balcony like some sort of false god. I'm screwed.
Commander Ireks steps in front of me to give me my final words. I beat him to it with a snarl.
"Betray your people, to save your king. Little ass backward if you ask me," I spit. He says nothing as he steps beside me and turns to his king who begins to address his people.
The king rambles on about what a great job HE did, not his guards. The crowd eats it up like starving animals. I barely notice my hand being nudged as I try to block out these childish ramblings. I look down and see Ireks poking my hand with a wooden item. I grab it, him stepping a little ahead to block my hand. I start down at a weird angle to a whittled fish. It's cute, even painted like a salmon. Confused I look up to Commander Ireks who is still listening to the king, a small snarl trying to be hidden but his nose still curls.
Huh? Oh. OH!
A rush of hope and adrenaline fuels my blood. I dare say I'm giddy. That big lug, I definitely never doubted him. Nope, not one bit… ok maybe I tossed him aside in my mind like week-old fish. I mean, who could see this coming? Sure as hell not me. Don't get me wrong, I'm persuasive but he is stubborn.
I fight back the smile and admiration daring to cross my face. I sure hope he has a dynamite plan because I'm neck-deep in 'super fucked' right now. I have to look down as to not give anything away. I'm going to live! If it doesn't go well though, I will most certainly die. What a day to be alive.
The king finishes his speech with a roar of applause. I bite my cheek as tension consumes me. Handsome better be on my side or this fish is a cruel last moments gift. I hear the crowd go quiet as all attention is now on the gallows, the executioner making final adjustments. My heart is beating out my chest as I see him close the gap to the lever. Oh heaven, where art thou?
Ireks makes his way to the front of the gallows, ready to address the crowd. He unsheathes his sword and points it to the sky. The crowd murmurs with excitement. He lowers his sword to point at the king, a display the king meets with a confused distasteful look.
"A false god, a spoiled child," Ireks shouts to the king," You have shown your true colors behind your fancy doors"
The king stands," I don't find this charming, Ireks."
Ireks continues," You have lied to us all, flaunted your wealth as if you are untouchable."
The king points to the executioner," Begin the execution and guards, cease this Orc." I panic as the executioner lunges for the lever, it cracking slightly at the weight. He tries to pull it be it wedged just below the deck. The guards don't dare move.
"You may ask, what is a peasant to a king," Ireks says," but I say what's a king to a mob?"
The executioner clears the blockage and pulls the lever with a snarl toward me. My feet give way to the collapsing floor, weightless as I wait for the tight restriction of the rope. With a quick flourish, Ireks cuts the rope as my feet go past the wood support. I can barely scream as I fall past the floor and onto a less-than-comfy hay-covered carriage.
All hell breaks loose as I'm jerked around an open carriage being pulled by two horses. I can barely sit upright as we torpedo through town. I hear people shouting and screaming, clangs of metal as guards fight. I just get onto my belly as we pass out the gates. I look ahead to my saviors, a well-armored orc and one of my bumbling idiots.
"Trevor," I shout in glee. He turns and gives me a solute before focusing back on his task. I give a hearty laugh as I roll back onto my back.
The cart shakes as new weight is added to the back, I quickly look to my feet at the new guest. Ireks, pants as he settles into the back. His armor is in shambles, some parts missing and others greatly dented. He cradles his arm as he watches the kingdom get farther and farther away.
"You beautiful son of a bitch," I exclaim as I sit up. He turns to me with a tired grin.
"I've been called better things," he jokes. He slides over and helps remove the bindings and noose. I can't stop myself from jumping on him and kissing that big dumb face. He startles at the assault, wincing as I crush his wounded arm to his chest. Though he still finds the strength to hold me even closer and enjoy himself for what seems like the first time in his life.
"I believe you are the person I need to thank for saving my life," I rest my forehead against his. The eventful day takes its toll on us both as we finally take a breath.
"You have no idea how both difficult and easy it was to start a riot like that," He closes his eyes," I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. For right now, I earned a much-needed rest."
"That you did," I say as I guide him down to my lap. He rests his head on my thighs, being lulled by the rocking of the carriage. I lean against the wall and find myself just watching the sun over the field.
"I hope you know that there is no getting away from me now," I tease as I flick his ear. He grunts, cozying up to my stomach.
"so be it," He grumbles back. I smile and watch the passing landscape.
------------------------------------
Hello! It's been a while. This story is for reaching 2k followers! that's amazing, especially since I haven't written anything since 2021. I'm not back, this is just a Thank You story. Sorry, I couldn't get an NSFW one. Work has been ongoing. Either way, hope you enjoyed it!
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The Reluctance of Love Pt. 1
I don't like the fated mates trope. But I think it's because I don't personally like how people write/interpret it (no hate, just not for me. Also I'm asexual so...I'm built different or something. shrug). So this is me trying to write fated mates my way.
Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn
Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
Word Count: 2443 (average 18 min read)
Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;)
All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.
Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.
My world shattered the day I saw him, my raebukan, my mate.
The pride of Orc tribes is centered on two things. The first being the pride of our warriors who defend and conquer in the tribe's name. The second, the pride of bearing and rearing many children together as a tribe through the groupings of mates. To ensure that all children be born strong, our bodies experience lordhovid - an intense physical pull that is described as a boiling in the blood that occurs upon seeing your mate. Lordhovid does not still until physical intimacy.
Most orcs experience lordhovid many times in their lifetime, gathering multiple partners that together rear large broods of children. The larger the brood, the greater pride the patriarch of the brood holds within the tribe and rises in rank of influence.
I, Drunrag Ularat, had never experienced lordhovid.
There had never been signs that I would ever feel the sensation of my blood burning for another. And while my brood brothers and sisters from my litter all began to bear children of their own, I remained. I remembered the way my broodmothers whispered to one another behind my back about me. I heard theories that I was unlucky, cursed, born dishonorably. My broodfather soon pretended that I didn't exist. My brothers and sisters did the same.
I tried to remain faithful that Gruumsh would change my fate, that I would lock eyes with a fierce orc-woman and feel the burn I heard so often about. But each looked back at me with only a coldness I had become too familiar with.
I left home, unable to bear the dishonor I continued to bring to my family. And I struggled through my young adult years earning my pay through hard manual labor. I learned to read and write in common to gain favor with those who hired me. I learned that my brute strength wasn't the only quality about me that could bring me honor. The older I got, the less I travelled, until I settled into a small merchant town on the coast, and worked in the forges during most of the year, crafting weapons and tools. The guilt and shame that I carried from my failure as an orc soon faded as the years passed and I settled into a rhythm that worked best for me in the quiet buzz of my coast town. I soon understood my true feelings from my childhood. I was relieved that I never had to juggle romance and physical intimacy. Even despite my lack of mate - I don't know that I ever really understood mating the same way as my tribe. It didn't make sense to me, and I didn't really want anything to do with it.
Until that fated day.
I had woke that morning with a pounding headache, and I remembered grumbling about it as I shuffled out of my room. The space was always cramped - due to my size - but it felt near claustrophobic that morning. I ran the back of my hand against my blurry eyes and blinked furiously as I peered into my food storage - only to find an onion as my offering for breakfast. I grumbled and reached for the snapsack I kept draped on my single chair and the pouch of coins that i shoved deep into the pockets of my breeches.
The morning was quiet, and the sea air was invigorating most mornings, but that morning, breathing it in only made me sneeze and the pounding in my head knocked harder against my skull. I groaned outwardly. As I walked down the cobblestone path towards the market circle, I felt a tightening sensation in the pit of my stomach with each step. Nausea overwhelmed me. Strange, since orcs have excellent constitution and I hadn't eaten a thing since the day before. I swallowed down the bile that built in my throat and forged ahead.
The market was always busy at any hour and I learned to know which vendors were more kind to me than others. It was still fairly common - and expected - to get strange lingering stares and off-kilter remarks made in my direction. I learned to ignore it, but today I already felt too unsettled to be able to shrug it off as easily as normal. I stopped by a bakery and exchanged my gold for a warm loaf of bread, then made my way down to where a stall was selling freshly picks fruits. Golden globes of fresh juicy fruit tempted me and I retrieved another set of coins before reaching for three shiny, firm globes into my sack.
As I deposited each one in one by one, I felt the tingle on the back of my neck that was someone was staring at me. With a fruit still in hand, I glanced to my right, ready to face a disgusted customer.
It was then that I looked up and met his gaze.
He was small. Maybe not by human standards, but I still considered most humans small - so he was also small to me. Willowy and thin, brown skin and long coppery curls, the ends teasing his skin around the base of his smooth, tantalizing neck. I spotted the soft pointy ears of a half-elf. Not quite as long and slender as an elf, but gently sloped up to a rounded point that poked through his mop of hair. Green-gold eyes - reminiscent of the fruit in my hand- met mine. They were large, curious eyes that looked back at me unflinching and kindly.
I couldn't look away. I didn't want to look away. He was beautiful. His lips were curled upwards naturally - like he always had a joke or funny story to tell. His lips parted as he gazed back at me, an open mouth smile just for me. There were no thoughts in my mind.
The burning began in my heart. A strong pulsing rush of boiling blood that started to spread and sear through every part of me. I stood there, unable to move and unable to look away from him. I felt so much joy, so much elation upon the sight of him, but it quickly was overrun with panic, confusion, and fear.
Never in the history of orcs had I heard of a male orc experiencing lordhovid with another male orc. It was common to have casual lovers of the same sex - but never mates. Mates were ones who promised children and the continued growth of your broods. I didn't understand - how could this man be my mate? I didn't want this. I was happy alone. Happy to be left alone. I gazed at him and the burning desire surged and bubbled until a loud, explosive breath escaped my lips. An exhalation of panic.
"Fuck." I breathed. I didn't want this.
"Sir, you alright?" The vendor asked me.
I grunted in response. I didn't break my gaze, everything in me was screaming inside me to take the half-elf and claim him here in the streets, in front of everyone. I hated that I even considered it. I didn't want that. My body and my brain remained at war, and I unable to move.
The half-elf's eyes narrowed. And he approached me slowly. The way he moved, the way his long legs and slender hips weaved through the crowd with ease, like water on glass. His eyes didn't leave me, and the walk towards me felt like it was a hundred miles between us. My breathing was growing ragged with each step. I was fighting everything not to run away...or run to him.
"I apologize if I have offended you." The half-elf said as he approached me. "I didn't mean to stare." His voice was gentle, smooth and rough at the same time. It reminded me of the sound of a harp, smooth and flowing out like song. I shuddered, my fists clenched. Closer up, I could see he had a spattering of freckles across his face, they were adorable and I wanted to spend the rest of my life counting how many existed on his body. I wanted to die for thinking of this stranger in front of me in such a base manner.
I blinked and swallowed heavily, my brain moving slower than normal. What could I do? What do I say?
The half-elf hesitated, reaching a hand out to me. I jerked back, fear and alarm and lust seizing me at once. He also jerked back. I saw that his hands were shaking. Was he afraid of me? I glanced up to his face again and saw that his eyes were wide and his lips were parting, he was breathing heavy.
He let out a heavy breath and whispered, "Can we go somewhere private? Something has come over me and I need your help."
Somewhere private.
Alarms bellowed in my brain. No. I can't be alone with him. I can't trust myself.
Before I could react, the half elf snatched my hand with both of his own. The warmth that radiated from his touch was cooler than the burning inside me and I felt my panic still. For how long I didn't know.
I let him drag me through the streets. My size didn't allow for a smooth walk, and I wasn't right in the head. I brushed and bumped against dozens of people. They likely glared at me, but I could only look at the back of my mate's head and wonder at how someone's hair could be so long and so curly at the same time and what it smelled like, what it would feel like against my cheek.
I found myself being pushed against a wall in a lonely street. I didn't know where I was. I looked down at the half-elf. His breathing was harder than before, and he stood very close to me. He only reached to my chest. My hands lingered close to his shoulders, eager to wrap around him. Around his waist. His neck.
"What did you to do me?" He said, an edge of desperation in his voice. "I don't know what I did to offend you...but please I beg you to remove whatever this curse is."
I may not be an honorable orc like my brothers and sisters, but hearing lordhovid be equated to a curse felt culturally offensive. It was true that I too didn't have any interest in these emotions, these urges. But it was the honor of an orc to experience this and feel the binding between one's self and their life-partner. And though I had grown to appreciate and become comfortable with my fate...I couldn't deny that there was a building excitement that I was finally feeling it with someone. The excitement also scared me too.
"Do you understand me?" He said pleadingly, and then he muttered to himself. "Damn, maybe he doesn't speak common."
"I understand." I managed to rasp out. My hands itched to hold him. I ignored it and wrestled through the rest of my words. "I - You are not cursed. What ails you also ails me."
"What is it?" He asked. "I'm feeling sensations that I am unfamiliar with."
"It is lordhovid. My people's mating instinct."
His eyes widened. "Why...why am I feeling it?"
I shook my head, "I don't know. This has never happened in our tribe. I am sorry."
"How do we stop it?" He asked. "Don't tell me I have to sleep with you?"
I looked away from his gaze, I couldn't bear to see him look at me with disgust. I felt a whimper escape my lips. It was too much to be so close to him and not hold him. I didn't want to hurt him, I didn't want him to be scared of me.
"I'm sorry." I breathed out.
"You...have you experienced this before?" He asked. "You seem more scared then me."
I shook my head. "I am krandad. Broken. I brought shame to my family because I was unable to mate."
"I see." He said, his voice sounding very calm under the circumstances. "And so now you experience your first...impulse...with me?"
I nodded. "I'm sorry."
He sighed. "Please stop apologizing. I'm starting to understand that this isn't really your fault."
I dared a chance to look to him. His hands were caught running through his hair, and he was also looking down. He was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I don't know if the lordhovid would change that for me either. He was simply radiant.
"What's your name?" he asked. "If I am to sleep with you, I'd like to know who you are." He put a hand on his chest. "I am Altan."
"Drunrag." I said.
"Drunrag." Altan said, and a smile returned. My knees weakened when he said my name back. The orcish name on his tongue sounded like poetry, like art. Oh, if I could hear him say my name again and again and again.
"You...are not afraid of me?" I asked.
He shook his head, "I think I'm faring better than you right now actually." He laughed.
I had to close my eyes to his radiance, his laughter was too much and I clenched my fists.
"Sorry," He said. "I can tell that I'm affecting you."
"Not your fault." I breathed. "I should just go. I can't do this to you unwillingly."
"What?' He asked.
Before I could say any more. I surged all of my strength to rip myself away from the wall and I ran and I didn't look back. My body continued to burn, and I felt an aching inside me that stretched from my body and remained with Altan. It was trying to pull me back. But I would not go. With each moment I spent with him, it had only become harder to deny my body's instinct to mate with him. I didn't want to do that to him. He was too good
None of this made any sense. I couldn't experience lordhovid so late in my years. I couldn't experience it with another species and I certainly couldn't experience it with another man. I didn't even want to begin to process the anger I felt when I had finally made peace that I didn't even want to mate with anyone.
My broodmothers had been right all along. I was broken. I was flawed and I never would have brought honor to my tribe.
I didn't open the forge that day, but instead crawled back into bed where i remained shaking and shivering.
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Khemor gro-Skaven
(Portrait by @thana-topsy, full version here)
Race: Osh Ornim (Iron Orc)
Sex: Male
Birthdate (given): 1st Morningstar, 4E 161 (40 years old in 4E 201)
Birthdate (actual): Unknown
Birthplace: somewhere in the Dragontail Mountains.
Places of Residence: Skaven, Hammerfell > Water's Edge, Cyrodiil > Windhelm, Skyrim
Former factions: College of Whispers
Current factions: Stormcloaks, Thane of Windhelm and the Pale
Khemor’s story will be told in my Homeric Orcs Series.
Early life in Hammerfell
The Iron Orc who would eventually be known as Khemor gro-Skaven was barely five years old when he was stricken with Rockjoint. ("Common in little orc children." --Murbul) Although he survived the disease, it left one of his legs atrophied and partially paralyzed. His clan, a particularly brutal group of Osh Ornim, intended to abandon him in Dragonstar in Craglorn as they did not want to waste the resources of the stronghold raising a permanently disabled child.
Whether it was fate, the hand of the gods, or just coincidence, Khemir at-Arlimahera, a wizard from a prominent Crown family in Skaven was traveling through the area and encountered the abandoned child before any harm befell him. The wizard sensed Khemor had a deep well of magicka and even though he was completely untrained he was manipulating the ebb and flow of ambient magicka in the world.
From Nostos, Khemor's central fic, set after the Main Quest and conclusion of the Civil War:
“My master was a once-in-ten-generations intellect when it came to the ebb and flow of magicka, delving into the secrets of the arcane, and uncovering the mysteries of Oblivion. But he was at a loss when it came to choosing a name for an Orsimer foundling.”
Khemir brought Khemor up as his apprentice: while Skaven was more magically inclined than most places in Hammerfell, Khemir's studies focused on various forms of Mysticism that intersected with Necromancy. Thus Khemor learned to be very circumspect and discreet from an early age.
Because of the reputation of Iron Orcs as particularly brutal and unintelligent, Khemor views his heritage with a deep sense of shame, and was brought up almost completely divorced from larger Orc culture, even more so than most "city Orcs" as he lacks any connections to anyone living in a stronghold. Most non-Orcs or people who are not from the Dragontail mountains do not pick up on the indicators of his heritage, and most who do clock him are too polite to mention it.
However, he does have a particular fondness for unusual rocks and minerals, and picks up pretty ones whenever he finds them. He also prefers to use un-faceted Soul Gems.
The Great War came to Skaven in 4E 173 when Khemor was twelve years old:
In Hammerfell, Imperial fortunes took a turn for the better. In early 4E 173, a Forebear army from Sentinel broke the siege of Hegathe (a Crown city), leading to the reconciliation of the two factions. Despite this, Lady Arannelya's main army succeeded in crossing the Alik'r Desert. The Imperial Legions under General Decianus met them outside Skaven in a bloody and indecisive clash. Decianus withdrew and left Arannelya in possession of Skaven, but the Aldmeri were too weakened to continue their advance.
--Legate Justianus Quintius, The Great War
Despite "only" lasting two years, the Empire's abandonment of Hammerfell and subsequent Thalmor occupation of Skaven was very formative for Khemor. Both he and his master were able to weather the occupation, but it took a toll on both of them. Khemor especially was not able to recieve chiurgeons' services for his leg during that critical time, which meant that his leg was unable to make a complete recovery like they had hoped, and so he’s used a cane to walk for his entire life.
From Katabasis, the story that details Calder the housecarl's adventures alongside Khemor during Skyrim's MQ:
Khemor sighed. “To say that I was ‘in’ [The Great War] would be a grave misstatement. I was only a child. Rather, the war came to Skaven. I was living there when the…order for the Legions to abandon Hammerfell was given.” A look of immense sadness passed over Khemor’s face. “Many of the Legion, mostly Nords and native sons of Hammerfell, refused to abandon Skaven, and deserted to continue protecting us. It was futile, of course. They were overrun and the Dominion occupied the city for two years.” He looked again at Calder and said quietly, “I am well-acquainted with the cruelties the Thalmor visit upon the populace of the places where they have control.”
While Khemir's social position and influence protected their household somewhat during the occupation, it was not easy, and Khemir's health never truly recovered. Before he died in 4E 187, he helped Khemor secure a position in the College of Whispers in Cyrodiil, despite neither of them being particularly inclined towards the Empire. In appreciation for his loyal service to and care of Khemir during the final, ailing years of his life, Khemir's family gave Khemor several of his former master's magical heirlooms before he left for his new life in Cyrodiil.
One of Khemir's grandnieces currently runs the family estate, and she and Khemor are on friendly terms and communicate somewhat regularly.
Life in River's Edge
(Portrait by @thana-topsy, full version here.)
With his command of languages, he was able to perfect his chosen sub-field of necromancy: spirit-calling and speaking with the dead. After all, what is the use of summoning the shade of a long-dead person to answer your questions if you won't be able to understand each other? This ability led to Khemor rising quickly through the ranks of the College of Whispers, and his calm and pleasant demeanor meant he was often chosen to lead delegations to advise the Elder Council or other political entities in Cyrodiil.
It was because of this role that in the year 4E 201, when word came to the leaders of the College of Whispers that the Synod and the Thalmor were scheming to gain influence with the College of Winterhold in Skyrim, Khemor was chosen to travel to the far, frozen north of the Empire and attempt to establish a line of communication Archmage Savos Aren.
Because of the unstable political situation in Skyrim, once he was through the Pale Pass Khemor changed his Legion escort for one comprised solely of Fighters Guild mercenaries. His entourage left Helgen for Riften on the 14th of Last Seed, 4E 201. Khemor noted the unusual number of Legion soldiers stationed at such a small outpost, but thought nothing of it.
When the escort arrived in Riften, they learned of Ulfric's capture and escape and hear the first rumors of dragons returning. However, it isn't until a dragon is sighted flying over Lake Honrich into the Jerall Mountains that Khemor takes the reports seriously. For safety, a larger group of travelers gathered in Riften to travel to Windhelm, leading to a significant delay of Khemor's itinerary. During this time, he composes what will end up being his last piece of correspondence to his superiors in the College of Whispers, detailing what he has heard about the return of the dragons to Skyrim before the ad-hoc caravan sets out for Kynesgrove…
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