Tusktaker's Secret Part 22

	“You sure you’re going to be fine by yourself, sweetie?” Radha asked her daughter as she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel of her car.

“I’ll be fine, Mom. Not like you could come with me anyway.”

It was the day of the gallery event. Lorka would have taken the car, but her father was gone for the weekend on a hunting trip, and her mother needed to use the car to take care of some errands.

The older orcess opened her mouth to say something only for her to think better of it and shake her head. “I keep forgetting my little girl is all grown up now.”

“Ugh, Mom! You don’t have to say stuff like that.”

“I know…still it’s just something hard for a mother to realize.”

“Aww, you know you’re always going to be my Mom though."

“So when do I need to get you?”

“I’ll text you. Shouldn’t be later than seven though.” Lorka said as she opened the door to the car.

After bidding her mother farewell, Lorka made her way to the entrance of the art gallery. She was surprised at herself; coming back here wasn’t something she would have done on her own. Not after what happened with Thomas. But, the chance to meet that orc artist was too high to pass up. Lorka flipped over the golden ticket and looked at the writing on the back.

“Nier’da Rogath Iron Tusk” Lorka had to ask her…how had an Iron-Scale become a painter. Their clan was almost entirely obsessed with metal working, war, and construction. In the Homelands, Iron Scales were trained from early childhood to understand forging techniques. Going into arts or anything seen as “impractical” was seen as a waste of an Iron-Scale’s time, and in some places taboo. Yet Nier’da was accomplished enough painter to be featured at a gallery…It made Lorka wonder. Maybe she could glean some insight from this Orc, if she could even reach her. There seemed to be an awful lot of patrons attending the gallery. She might be too busy to speak to Lorka. Still, it couldn’t hurt to try. It would be better than sitting at home and moping.

After handing her ticket to the kikimora at the entrance, Lorka entered gallery. The place was already jam-packed with patrons, most of the men wearing suits or expensive tuxedos, the women dressed in scandalous evening wear. Lorka chuckled to herself as she saw a young man drop his drink as an older succubus gave him a predatory wink. A pair of older men laugh and toast their wine glasses as they talk about recent trade acquisitions before their two danuki pull them into a stock conversation. Lorka tries her best to blend in but well…orcs aren’t exactly the type to frequent art galleries. She caught more than one person staring at her in surprised confusion. Was the clothing she picked out inappropriate? She’d worn a black evening dress for the event, with a brass shoulder bracelet around her left shoulder, and a kraz’nar fang necklace. Maybe the dren’a talon earrings disturbed them? She was beginning to lose her nerve. Maybe it was best to just leave. She probably didn’t belong here any…Wait, who was that? Lorka saw a young man in a suit move past her. Something about the way he looked upset her. Not…it couldn’t be.

“Thomas?” she called out, more out of reflex than anything else. The man turned his head for a brief second before dissapering back into the crowd of patrons.

Her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, where they? Lorka tried to push her way into the crowd. "Excuse me, pardon me” she grumbled as she tried shoved her way through the throng of people. There, that must be him! “Oof!” In her haste to reach “Thomas, she’d collided with a woman trying to move out of the crowd, spilling wine from the woman’s drink all over her dress. “I’m so sorry about that, I…”

“Goodness dear, you’re lucky that was me and not Vani!” The woman sighed as she examined the stains on her dress. Wait, that voice sounded familiar.

“Miss Tessa! I’m so sorry! I was on my way out, anyway.” Lorka said her face flushed with embarrassment. She was only in the art gallery for about fifteen minutes, and she’d already spilled wine over the curator’s dress. Lorka felt like she could just die.
Tessa gave her a motherly smile and simply snapped her finger. The stains on her clothing glowed a sickly shade of green before completely disappearing. “Honestly dear, it isn’t a big deal. And what do you mean you’re leaving already? Surely you didn’t think you were going to leave without visiting with me?” She pouted at Lorka, such a strange expression for such a dignified woman, “Honestly dearie, you and your little boyfriend  didn’t visit me once since our first encounter.”

Lorka’s lips curled into a deep frown, “We uh…he sort of broke up with me.”

The wight’s playful expression disappeared, replaced by a look of embarrassment,“…I’m so sorry dear. I feel like an idiot for committing such a faux pas.”

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t know.” Lorka said quietly, trying to maintain a friendly demeanor. She didn’t want to make the curator feel bad.

“Anyway,” Tessa said, trying to change the subject, “Why would you leave? You can’t have been here longer than a couple minutes. I try to speak to everyone at least once. ” A small bit of green energy surged around Tessa’s eye as she gave her orcish friend a mischievous wink.
Lorka shrugged, “I just don’t feel like I belong here, that’s all.” She really didn’t. This place was way too fancy for her. She was just a hunter after all.

“Nonsense! You came to see Nier’da’s paintings didn’t you?”

“Yeah! Well, it’s more like I wanted to talk to her. But with all these people around, I didn’t think I’d get a chance to speak to her.”
“Ah! Well, you’re in luck. I happen to have told her about you. She was rather curious about you. I don’t she expected another orc to appreciate her work.”

Lorka’s eyes sparkled at the wight’s words. She might actually get to meet her! “Really! Do you think I could talk to her?”

The wight smiled, “Oh I’m sure she’d be more than happy to see you! Come with me, I know just where to find her.”

Lorka’s eyes sparkled at the wight’s words. She was actually going to get a chance to talk to Miss Shar’n!

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

	“Ah here we are the main exhibition hall!” Tessa exclaimed as she beamed proudly at Lorka’s dazzled expression. The entire area was shaped like a circle, with dozens of people filling the place. Some of them were resting on small marble benches placed in the middle of the room, while others conversed among themselves. Dozens of paintings hung on the wall, with small golden designs placed in the spaces between them. The rich satin carpeting and beautiful decorations were exceedingly opulent, but Lorka’s mind barely registered them. It was the paintings that had completely held her attention. Each one of them was breathtakingly realistic and lavishly detailed, featuring an alien landscape that seemed more at home in a fantasy designer’s concept art book than a realist landscaping exhibit. Even so, something about their names felt so familiar. “The Sol’kanar Swamp”. “Tel’Revura Theron”, “The Orenfen Jungle”. These were all locations from the Homelands! Her father and mother used to talk about their hunting trips into the Orenfen Jungle, and Tel’Revura Theron was the largest orcish city in the Homelands, a mighty testament to the legacy of the old Orcish Empire that ruled before the founding of the Clans. Lorka knew the Homelands were long gone, lost to the Aether Storms and the Great Magus War. Yet these paintings were so vivid and lifelike! It was like staring into the past, a portal to a lost world.

“This is really amazing, Tessa! I’ve never seen anything like this. ”Lorka turned to her side, “Tessa?” The curator wasn’t there. Concerned, Lorka scanned through the crowds looking for her wight companion. She was gone. Lorka frowned. Well, she must have gone to find Nier’da. Maybe it was best to have a look around. As she looked through the gallery, one painting in particular caught Lorka’s attention “The Tandar Forests”, the Tusktaker ancestral hunting grounds. Exotic fauna, including some species Lorka hunted, were dotted all over the background of the painting, hiding in the lush foliage of the dense jungle undergrowth. Near the center, four Tusktakers were visible, huddled around a small campfire. Each of them bearing unique hunting fetishes, tribal tattoos, scars, and animal hide clothing. The attention to detail was phenomenal. It was like staring into a photograph.

“I hope I did a good job conveying their facial expressions. I’m still not satisfied with how they turned out.” A feminine voice from behind Lorka mused.

The voice’s owner walked next to Lorka and let out a sigh. “Working with live orc models isn’t easy. Someone always gets impatient with the process and storms off in a huff.”

Lorka tried not to stare at the stranger. She was orcess, and quite a beautiful one at that. Her décolletage and toned stomach were visible thanks to the scandalous midriff baring dress she wore. It looked like it was spun from Arachne thread judging by the strong, smooth white threads. The woman pushed back a couple strands from her auburn red hair before looking at Lorka with her scarlet eyes. As her hands moved back, Lorka noticed the collection of iron rings on the orcess’s fingers, each wrought with intricate filigree designs, a sign of Iron Tusk quality. The woman smiled as she extended her hand towards Lorka “Nier’da Iron Tusk.”

Lorka took her arm and gave her a firm squeezed as they shook hands. “Lorka Tusktaker.”

“Ah Tessa told me about you!” the woman said, clasping her hands together in excitement, “You have no idea how much I wanted to speak to you. I never thought I’d get a chance to see an orc attend one of my events.”

“You have no idea how much these paintings mean to me. They’re so beautiful! Mom and Dad talk about the Homelands all the time, but I never thought I’d get to see them in such vivid detail. How do you do it?” She hadn’t meant to gush like that, but she couldn’t help it. There was just something magical about Nier’da’s work.”

The orcess laughed and gave Lorka a modest wave, as if to say she didn’t deserve the compliment, “Oh I was lucky. I have a natural talent for remembering scenery.  The humans say it’s something called ‘photographic memory’…but I’m not so sure.”

“That explains how you captured everything so vividly.” Lorka told her.

She sighed at Lorka’s compliment, clearly displeased, “Yes but, sometimes it isn’t enough. These aren’t as good as a photograph.” She gestured with her hands as she spoke, clearly getting into the discussion,  “I’ve done everything, researched old tomes and painting from the Homelands, gone to Wildlife Preserves to find the plants and animals I needed for certain landscapes, tracked down survivors for used as live models in my work…yet it’s not quite the same. I don’t think it’ll ever be a perfect representation without a photographic reference. I was only fifteen when I came here. It’s been such a long time, I wanted to make sure I got all the details right.”
“Is that why you painted all these landscapes? Because you don’t want people to forget about the Homelands?”

Nier’da let out a soft chuckle, “That’s right. We’d still have our books and our old stories and our memories. But books can be lost, stories can change, and memories fade. I guess you could say I wanted to preserve the Homelands, so that our descendants could remember where they came from, even if the Homelands no longer exist.” She let out a low sad sigh as she turned to Lorka, “The only problem is none of my people really seem to care.  None of the orcs do honestly. You’re the first one to come to one of my events. Sad isn’t it? I was hoping to do this to preserve some shred of memory for both the Homelands and orcish culture. I guess I really only succeeded at the first.”

“That isn’t true! This stuff is amazing! I read a lot of books on the Homelands and everything here looks exactly like it should! I know no one will ever get to see the Homelands again, but at least they’ll have these paintings to remind themselves of their homes.”

The artist closed her eyes as she gave Lorka a grateful smile, “Thank you Lorka. That meant a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome, “Lorka decided it was time to change the subject. She wanted to know more about Nier’da. “This might be a bit personal, but what did you’re parents think of you becoming a painter?”

“They were…less than pleased. My father was especially angry. He wanted me to carry on the tradition of being a blacksmith.”

Memories of Jor’ak flashed through Lorka’s mind, “I know the feeling.” She said quietly.
“Was it hard?”

“Hmmm?”

“Going against your parents’ wishes.”

“It was tough.” Nier’da admitted. “My father and I fought constantly. Things were so different here. We didn’t need to forge armor or weapons, humans had factories. We could always go into producing specialty items but it just wasn’t the same. Blacksmithing was never my first love anyway. They didn’t really understand that.”

“I kind of have a similar issue.” Lorka admitted.

Nier’da raised an eyebrow, “Really now?”

“Yeah.” Lorka “I’m not the kind of daughter my father wanted. I’m a Tusktaker, so I’m supposed to be a hunter right? But, I’ve never really enjoyed it that much. I always liked science and literature more than all that.  But dad was furious when I told him I was going to go to college for pharmacology. I wanted him to be proud of me, so I…”

“Decide to give it your all and shove all of yourself into it?” The artist said, finishing her sentence.

 “How did you know?”

“I did the same thing with my father. It was the worst mistake I ever made.” The orc sighed as she rubbed her brow, “I thought if I could make him and the clan happy, I would be happy. But I wasn’t. I had a huge fight with my lover at the time. We were from different clans and I knew my family wanted me to marry someone to carry on the Iron Tusk legacy. It was a huge mess.”

Lorka frowned, “Guess we have more in common than I thought. I’m kind of in a similar situation. It’s really hard. I feel like I’ve had to give up so much to be a proper orc. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

“You really do remind me of my younger self Lorka. Let me ask you a question, something I asked myself when I was in your situation. Are you happy?”

Lorka thought about throwing away all her books, turning down college, and going to on dangerous clan hunts with her father. But most of all, she thought about losing Thomas. “No.”

“Then why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because I just want my father and my clan to be proud of me.”

Nier’da put a comforting hand on the young orc’s shoulder, “Is that worth making yourself miserable? Do you think making your father and clan happy at the expense over everything else in your life is healthy? I understand that pressure, I’ve been there. But I was never satisfied with my life till I came to terms with who I am.”

“But how can you just turn your back on your clan identity like that! They’re your family!”

“And they still are Lorka,” The orcess’s tone took became more as she spoke, “We’ve had some rough arguments and things weren’t always the best, but like you said, they’re my family. My parents aren’t going to just stop loving me because they disagree with me. Living your life to make others happy is a noble goal, but you can’t just force yourself into a lifestyle you hate just to make them happy.”

“It’s just so hard though, you know?” Lorka told her, frustrated by the entire situation with her father. “Dad expects everything to be just like it was in the Homelands, but it just isn’t! How can I still make him happy if everything’s so different? I can’t be the same orc from the homelands he wants me to be.”

“What does being an orc mean, Lorka?”

She thought about it for a little bit, all the values her father had instilled in her since she was a little girl, “Well…I’d say being strong, protecting your clan, living your life your way, and striving for what you want most.”

“So what do those principles have to do with you giving up are your dreams? Are you saying you can only be a ‘proper orc’ if you follow the wishes of your father?”

Lorka paused, unsure of what to say, “I don’t know…”

“Lorka, there’s something you have to understand. Orcs can be stubborn, but we aren’t supposed to be completely inflexible. We adapt, we come up with new ideas, and we evolve to fit into the environment. Homeland Principles and clans, those are important. But you have to understand, the world those came from is gone. Earth is a new world, with its own rules and cultures. If orcs ever want to have a place here, we have to become more fluid and adapt to the environment or we won’t survive.”

“You make it sound like we should just turn our back on the old ways and live like humans.” Lorka said bitterly.

“That isn’t what I’m saying at all! We’re in a new world. Sometimes, we need to be more adaptable in how we approach problems so that we don’t become slaves to tradition. But at the same time, we have to remember where we come from. We can’t just abandon all our principles and live like humans just because it’s convenient. Yet we can’t live like back in the Homelands. There needs to be a balance between sides, Homelander and Earthling. Like these paintings.”

“I don’t understand.” Lorka said with a confused frown, “It feels like you’re trying to tell me to have my cake and eat it too. Don’t I have to choose the world I want to be long to?”

“It’s more complicated than that. Take these paintings for example” She said, gesturing to her work, “They’re never going to be exactly like the world I knew from the Homelands. Even though I’ve done all this research, these paintings are always going to reflect how I saw the Homelands. They’re never going to be 100% accurate, because they come from my personal perspective. And even though I grew up in the Homelands, I’ve spent all of my adult life adjusting to this place.  We’ll never be the same people were back then. We have a new home, with new standards and rules. As much as our people try to hold onto the past, their children will never quite be like the orcs that grew up in the Homelands.”

“That’s kind of sad those, isn’t it? Our culture will just eventually fade away and crumple into dust, just like our old home.” Lorka said.

 Nier’da shook her head. “I don’t think so. Being a Tusktaker, an Iron Tusk, a Bitter Leaf, a Gold Fang…those are all noble clans with long histories and traditions. Yet those are all just cultures that sprang out of the original Orcish society. At its core, there’s more to be an orc than just being a member of a clan. Something primordial. Something we hold inside us of that isn’t going to change.”
Lorka rubbed her chin, thinking about the artist’s words.

Something in Nier’da’s speech clicked with Lorka. “So you’re saying even if the names change, and traditions shift, we’ll always be orcs.  We shouldn’t forget who we are and where we came from, but we have to adapt to our new home.”

Nier’da nodded her head, “Exactly.”

Lorka mulled over the artist’s words. She still wasn’t completely sure of what she needed to do, but Nier’da had given her a direction. She still wanted to make her father proud, but Nier’da was right, quashing her own dreams wasn’t the answer. If anything, it was making the situation worse.  She could still be an orc and a Tusktaker and be her own person. There’d have to be a long, long conversation with her father, but even if he didn’t accept her, it would be for the best. She couldn’t do this anymore, torn between one world and another. She just wanted her Dad to see she could be part of both.

Lorka checked her phone. Oh crap, it was seven-thirty all ready? She needed to talk to meet up with her mom.

“Thank you for everything, Miss Nier’da.  You gave me a lot to think about.”

Nier’da smiled, “I’m glad I was able to help. And Lorka, thank you for coming. Getting to see another orc at one of my events was something special. ” She handed Lorka a business card, “Don’t be shy, I’d love to have another chat in the future.”

“I will!” Lorka said as she pocketed the ticket. She gave the orcess one final wave before exiting the hall.
She just needed to find a place to wait till her Mom came back. Maybe she could find Tessa?

“Lorka? Is that you?”

The orcess stopped in her tracks. That voice, it couldn’t be…

She turned around to see who called her name. A young man in a suit was standing behind her, his dark chocolate eyes peering into hers. He was trying his best to look calm, but Lorka could tell he was nervous.

“Thomas.” Lorka whispered.