Negotiating -- Horde Style
(Short story written up for a story contest for my guild on WrA, an RP server. Vindicated is, among other things, a mercenary guild, but one still strongly aligned with the Horde).
Exhaustion.
That was the primary state which Risari Dawnbringer was experiencing as she sat across the table from the Dragonmaw negotiator, finding her thoughts constantly wandering as he prattled on. While he was still larger than a Sin'Dorei such as herself, he was a particularly small, weasley example of his race, and she kept finding it difficult to actually focus in on his whiny, obnoxious tones as he droned on and on about...something. It seemed especially unimportant. She briefly reflected that it was a pity the previous negotiator had fallen in battle only days before Vindicated's previous contract was set to expire.
Still tuning out the constant droning -- he was making a point of some kind, but taking so long to get there that she found she had little real interest attempting to follow his train of meandering thought -- her fel-green eyes swept across the table again as she considered the other four orcs that were seated on the Dragonmaw's side of the table. They were clearly here as a show of force, intended to intimidate her into faltering during the negotiations. Given their unhappy expressions, she assumed that the weasley orc was responsible for their presence. Briefly, she wondered how he had managed to attain any position at all within the ranks of the fierce Dragonmaw.
Dismissing them, Risari's thoughts continued to wander as the speaker droned on, and her gaze returned briefly to him, studying him and then comparing him to his fellows. Hm. Perhaps he wasn't as small or weasley as she had first dismissed him as being. Actually, the more she studied him -- she had learned early in her career among the other races of the Horde that they often were horribly inept at judging the direction of the Sin'Dorei gaze, without the iris and pupil they were accustomed to judging by -- the more she realized her initial assessment had been incorrect, and he was actually of nearly standard size and strength for an orc. The two axes strapped to his side also seemed as if they had seen a fair amount of use recently.
That was extremely sloppy of her, she reflected. She had allowed her tiredness to cloud her judgement, allowing her mind to make a snap dismissal from only one or two scattered characteristics. Had this been the battlefield rather than the negotiating table, such a mistake could have been deadly -- to herself or to another. Unacceptable. Entirely unacceptable. She had been through far more intense and protracted warfare in the past; there was no excuse for allowing the battles of the last several weeks to affect her so. Having attached herself to a looser organization, she was clearly allowing her discipline to slip. This was not something she could allow to stand any longer.
Risari was distantly aware that the orc had finally stopped talking -- or perhaps he hadn't been talking very long at all, and it was merely her clouded perception that caused her to feel so -- and was impatiently waiting for an answer. Let him wait. She stared at him with fel-green eyes she knew felt unnatural to many orcs, unblinking, unspeaking. Simply staring. She was no fool, and had played the game of politics for far longer than the five orcs staring across from her had been alive. Combined. Their numbers was a blatant attempt to unbalance her; certainly, she could return the courtesy, while simultaneously covering for her own momentary weakness by making it look intentional.
Risari inhaled slowly, forcing herself to push through the pain and exhaustion that clouded her body and mind and tightly drawing her focus and will inwards. Her entire body *ached,* rebelling against the constant flash-mending that had kept her going for so long, and an exhaustion that felt as if it reached to her very soul wracked her, likely a result of performing that same mending. But that was irrelevant. She was a Blood Knight, at once both the sword and shield of the Sin'Dorei. At once her people's hand of justice and their aegis of holy light. There was no room for weakness. There was no place for faltering.
One hand, obscured from view, gripped the leg of the table to prevent herself from shaking as Risari drew her will even closer to herself and mentally *pushed*. And pushed more. And more. And *more*. Drawing up every bit of strength and power that still remained within her soul. More than once, the exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to falter *here*, of all places. She had fought demons and untold horrors in strange and twisted lands, battled the Scourge in the raging heart of the Lich King's power. How could she possibly begin to fail here? /Never/! She would *not* permit it.
And as she forced herself forward, she could feel the familiar holy light of the Sunwell flood her soul with renewed vigor, could feel the glorious magicks of her people giving strength to her body and clarity to her mind. It washed over her, and into her, and through her, and she clung to it with the passionate fervancy of one clinging to their only true anchor, gripping the table leg harder and more desperately to prevent herself from trembling in front of the Dragonmaw. For even now, her body continued to rebel, the intensity of the purifying light raging painfully in her veins as it purged her of the weakness therein, burning it away as the smith burns away the dross from their metals.
The exhaustion lifted, and clarity returned to Risari's agile mind. She swiftly played back the negotiator's last words in her mind, and immediately realized that he was attempting to back Vindicated into taking unfavorable terms for their new contract. But compared to the intricate and elegant politicks of the Sin'Doriei, his faltering attempts were nothing short of a mockery to not only herself, but her people and her guild. Unfortunately for him, she had learned long ago how to speak to the orcs in a way that they truly understood.
"Do not mock us, orc!"
Her words contained a power and authority which belied her slender form, exploding suddenly across the drawn-out silence like a thundercrack. She could see the slight startlement in the negotiator's expression, but it was quickly overtaken as Risari bodily threw herself across the table with a ferocity he likely would never have thought possible from one of the 'prissy' elves. Agony shot through her injured leg as she landed, and she nearly lost her balance right there and collapsed to the ground -- but she immediately drew strength and light to herself, pushing past the pain and swiftly compensating her stance to properly adjust her weight for her injuries.
Meanwhile, to his credit, the orc's hands moved swiftly to his axes, instinctively preparing for battle, but her power had been forged in the crucibles of Outlands and Northrend -- before his hands could even close on his weapons, her right hand had closed on his neck in a vice's grip, holy light rushing through her and granting impossible strength for her slender frame, and an instant later, the breath was forcefully knocked out of the orc's lungs as she swung him up over her head and slammed him into the table. A flash of furious light sent the other four orcs stumbling to their knees just as they came to their feet to defend their leader, granting a small but precious opening to establish dominance.
"Do you think I am weak, because I am Sin'dorei? Or because I am injured?" she demanded, her powerful voice snapping across the room. She leaned in, knocking away his axes with her left hand as she held him down with her right, all but growling with the intensity of her fervor and anger. "I assure you, neither of these things will stop me from breaking every rib in your body." The other orcs had already recovered themselves, but now intentionally waited momentarily as they looked for their leader to rise to the challenge of this elf and seize back his honor and pride.
Once again to his credit, he proved himself to be a fighter far beyond Risari's initial, clouded assessment. Even without his weapons, he threw himself forward at the Blood Knight with a resounding roar only an orc could make, literally shaking her to her bones and sending shooting pain through her injured leg. "I will *kill* you for this, elf -- !"
But once more, it simply wasn't enough. As strong as the Dragonmaw proved himself to be, shoving back against her and forcing her to stumble back as the roar shook her, as strong as he was -- the light which burned inside her was far stronger. Even as she recovered her stance, forcing herself to put full weight on both legs, his fist slammed directly into her face with enough force that it should have easily fractured the bones in her face and driven her to the ground. Yet she stood, this time unmoving, unwavering, unflinching despite the pain that shot through her skull and leg. A brick wall likely would have been more evidentally affected.
And then she grabbed him again, impossibly picking him up once more by this throat, then turned and *shoved*. The sound the door made as he crashed through it, breaking it into a dozen fragments, was rather satisfying. The sound of his hitting the ground and not getting back up even moreso. But even had she the mind, there was no time to further relish it. There was only the shortest of openings to follow this up, to solidate her victory in the eyes of these orcs and gain dominance in the contract negotiations.
"Now!" she began, power and authority ringing clearly in her voice as she spun on her heels to face the other four, her fel-green eyes intense and her expression severe. "Which one of you has the *honor* the negotiate without such foul mockery?" she demanded, sweeping her gaze across the remaining four. Studying them. There was a split-second hesitation on the part of three of them, but one, a young but already battle-scarred female who had seemed increasingly angry throughout the proceedings, stepped forward immediately as if she'd been waiting for this opportunity the entire time, and pounded her chest sharply in an orcish salute.
"I am Vaghalla Stormslayer! We are the Dragonmaw, and we do not stoop to taking advantage of our allies -- Grom brings shame upon us all with his cowardly tactics!"
Risari smiled fiercely as her eyes fell upon the young warrior, who so clearly embodied all of the greatest traits of the orcs that she admired so much. This one would surely grow to be a great hero of the Horde as her experience grew. "Your honor and pride are a tribute to your entire clan and race, my sister-in-arms. Let us sit, then, and conclude this wasteful business, so that we may return once more to the business of driving the Wildhammer filth from these lands!"
Fierce, exhuberant laughter met her words, and as they all settled back into their chairs, Risari knew already that Vindicated would this time be offered honorable terms.
Exhaustion.
That was the primary state which Risari Dawnbringer was experiencing as she sat across the table from the Dragonmaw negotiator, finding her thoughts constantly wandering as he prattled on. While he was still larger than a Sin'Dorei such as herself, he was a particularly small, weasley example of his race, and she kept finding it difficult to actually focus in on his whiny, obnoxious tones as he droned on and on about...something. It seemed especially unimportant. She briefly reflected that it was a pity the previous negotiator had fallen in battle only days before Vindicated's previous contract was set to expire.
Still tuning out the constant droning -- he was making a point of some kind, but taking so long to get there that she found she had little real interest attempting to follow his train of meandering thought -- her fel-green eyes swept across the table again as she considered the other four orcs that were seated on the Dragonmaw's side of the table. They were clearly here as a show of force, intended to intimidate her into faltering during the negotiations. Given their unhappy expressions, she assumed that the weasley orc was responsible for their presence. Briefly, she wondered how he had managed to attain any position at all within the ranks of the fierce Dragonmaw.
Dismissing them, Risari's thoughts continued to wander as the speaker droned on, and her gaze returned briefly to him, studying him and then comparing him to his fellows. Hm. Perhaps he wasn't as small or weasley as she had first dismissed him as being. Actually, the more she studied him -- she had learned early in her career among the other races of the Horde that they often were horribly inept at judging the direction of the Sin'Dorei gaze, without the iris and pupil they were accustomed to judging by -- the more she realized her initial assessment had been incorrect, and he was actually of nearly standard size and strength for an orc. The two axes strapped to his side also seemed as if they had seen a fair amount of use recently.
That was extremely sloppy of her, she reflected. She had allowed her tiredness to cloud her judgement, allowing her mind to make a snap dismissal from only one or two scattered characteristics. Had this been the battlefield rather than the negotiating table, such a mistake could have been deadly -- to herself or to another. Unacceptable. Entirely unacceptable. She had been through far more intense and protracted warfare in the past; there was no excuse for allowing the battles of the last several weeks to affect her so. Having attached herself to a looser organization, she was clearly allowing her discipline to slip. This was not something she could allow to stand any longer.
Risari was distantly aware that the orc had finally stopped talking -- or perhaps he hadn't been talking very long at all, and it was merely her clouded perception that caused her to feel so -- and was impatiently waiting for an answer. Let him wait. She stared at him with fel-green eyes she knew felt unnatural to many orcs, unblinking, unspeaking. Simply staring. She was no fool, and had played the game of politics for far longer than the five orcs staring across from her had been alive. Combined. Their numbers was a blatant attempt to unbalance her; certainly, she could return the courtesy, while simultaneously covering for her own momentary weakness by making it look intentional.
Risari inhaled slowly, forcing herself to push through the pain and exhaustion that clouded her body and mind and tightly drawing her focus and will inwards. Her entire body *ached,* rebelling against the constant flash-mending that had kept her going for so long, and an exhaustion that felt as if it reached to her very soul wracked her, likely a result of performing that same mending. But that was irrelevant. She was a Blood Knight, at once both the sword and shield of the Sin'Dorei. At once her people's hand of justice and their aegis of holy light. There was no room for weakness. There was no place for faltering.
One hand, obscured from view, gripped the leg of the table to prevent herself from shaking as Risari drew her will even closer to herself and mentally *pushed*. And pushed more. And more. And *more*. Drawing up every bit of strength and power that still remained within her soul. More than once, the exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to falter *here*, of all places. She had fought demons and untold horrors in strange and twisted lands, battled the Scourge in the raging heart of the Lich King's power. How could she possibly begin to fail here? /Never/! She would *not* permit it.
And as she forced herself forward, she could feel the familiar holy light of the Sunwell flood her soul with renewed vigor, could feel the glorious magicks of her people giving strength to her body and clarity to her mind. It washed over her, and into her, and through her, and she clung to it with the passionate fervancy of one clinging to their only true anchor, gripping the table leg harder and more desperately to prevent herself from trembling in front of the Dragonmaw. For even now, her body continued to rebel, the intensity of the purifying light raging painfully in her veins as it purged her of the weakness therein, burning it away as the smith burns away the dross from their metals.
The exhaustion lifted, and clarity returned to Risari's agile mind. She swiftly played back the negotiator's last words in her mind, and immediately realized that he was attempting to back Vindicated into taking unfavorable terms for their new contract. But compared to the intricate and elegant politicks of the Sin'Doriei, his faltering attempts were nothing short of a mockery to not only herself, but her people and her guild. Unfortunately for him, she had learned long ago how to speak to the orcs in a way that they truly understood.
"Do not mock us, orc!"
Her words contained a power and authority which belied her slender form, exploding suddenly across the drawn-out silence like a thundercrack. She could see the slight startlement in the negotiator's expression, but it was quickly overtaken as Risari bodily threw herself across the table with a ferocity he likely would never have thought possible from one of the 'prissy' elves. Agony shot through her injured leg as she landed, and she nearly lost her balance right there and collapsed to the ground -- but she immediately drew strength and light to herself, pushing past the pain and swiftly compensating her stance to properly adjust her weight for her injuries.
Meanwhile, to his credit, the orc's hands moved swiftly to his axes, instinctively preparing for battle, but her power had been forged in the crucibles of Outlands and Northrend -- before his hands could even close on his weapons, her right hand had closed on his neck in a vice's grip, holy light rushing through her and granting impossible strength for her slender frame, and an instant later, the breath was forcefully knocked out of the orc's lungs as she swung him up over her head and slammed him into the table. A flash of furious light sent the other four orcs stumbling to their knees just as they came to their feet to defend their leader, granting a small but precious opening to establish dominance.
"Do you think I am weak, because I am Sin'dorei? Or because I am injured?" she demanded, her powerful voice snapping across the room. She leaned in, knocking away his axes with her left hand as she held him down with her right, all but growling with the intensity of her fervor and anger. "I assure you, neither of these things will stop me from breaking every rib in your body." The other orcs had already recovered themselves, but now intentionally waited momentarily as they looked for their leader to rise to the challenge of this elf and seize back his honor and pride.
Once again to his credit, he proved himself to be a fighter far beyond Risari's initial, clouded assessment. Even without his weapons, he threw himself forward at the Blood Knight with a resounding roar only an orc could make, literally shaking her to her bones and sending shooting pain through her injured leg. "I will *kill* you for this, elf -- !"
But once more, it simply wasn't enough. As strong as the Dragonmaw proved himself to be, shoving back against her and forcing her to stumble back as the roar shook her, as strong as he was -- the light which burned inside her was far stronger. Even as she recovered her stance, forcing herself to put full weight on both legs, his fist slammed directly into her face with enough force that it should have easily fractured the bones in her face and driven her to the ground. Yet she stood, this time unmoving, unwavering, unflinching despite the pain that shot through her skull and leg. A brick wall likely would have been more evidentally affected.
And then she grabbed him again, impossibly picking him up once more by this throat, then turned and *shoved*. The sound the door made as he crashed through it, breaking it into a dozen fragments, was rather satisfying. The sound of his hitting the ground and not getting back up even moreso. But even had she the mind, there was no time to further relish it. There was only the shortest of openings to follow this up, to solidate her victory in the eyes of these orcs and gain dominance in the contract negotiations.
"Now!" she began, power and authority ringing clearly in her voice as she spun on her heels to face the other four, her fel-green eyes intense and her expression severe. "Which one of you has the *honor* the negotiate without such foul mockery?" she demanded, sweeping her gaze across the remaining four. Studying them. There was a split-second hesitation on the part of three of them, but one, a young but already battle-scarred female who had seemed increasingly angry throughout the proceedings, stepped forward immediately as if she'd been waiting for this opportunity the entire time, and pounded her chest sharply in an orcish salute.
"I am Vaghalla Stormslayer! We are the Dragonmaw, and we do not stoop to taking advantage of our allies -- Grom brings shame upon us all with his cowardly tactics!"
Risari smiled fiercely as her eyes fell upon the young warrior, who so clearly embodied all of the greatest traits of the orcs that she admired so much. This one would surely grow to be a great hero of the Horde as her experience grew. "Your honor and pride are a tribute to your entire clan and race, my sister-in-arms. Let us sit, then, and conclude this wasteful business, so that we may return once more to the business of driving the Wildhammer filth from these lands!"
Fierce, exhuberant laughter met her words, and as they all settled back into their chairs, Risari knew already that Vindicated would this time be offered honorable terms.