Fenali and Tarryn 1

Scowled  is utterly exhausted. His men were fearful and uncertain with good reason, only an absolute madman would send a group of simple woodland rangers to the gates of a Orc camp...but that's exactly what his father, their leader, was. Reaching the end of his lifespan his mind has turned sour, intelligence waning by the day. 'Take the half-humans' he said. 'Surely you'll be fast enough to run if you must.' What hogwash. This was a suicide mission if the camp's numbers had increased beyond what they'd observed over the last few weeks. The group is on the cusp of the camp now, with Fenali and an experienced ranger at the front. The druid was neutralizing whatever traps littered the path toward their target as the ranger points them out and in no time at all they're within roughly 100 feet of the camp's entrance which is exactly as close as he cares to be, well within sight of whatever sentries are on watch. Drawing his staff from it's holster he fires a dainty stream into the air, watching as it explodes in the air like a firework. He wants the attention of whoever can see it. From there he holds the staff in a neutral pose at his side, not wanting to come off as aggressive. He has a feeling it wouldn't matter anyways, though. "Excuse me!!" He called, cupping a hand around his mouth to amplify the sound. "I am Fenalis, heir to the city of Ayathhil! We mean no harm, but I'd like to have a word with whomever is in charge!"

BioThrall  panted lightly, something a physical master specimen like her wasn't used to, but she had grown bored of the leftover meat they captured off that caravan. Hearing that magic equivalent to a flare pop off, she grunted in irritation, before standing up and letting the poor woman slump off of her crotch, crumpling in a near lifeless heap below her. She dragged the fleshpound out of the tent by her hair, simply dropping her at a random point along the way as she headed towards the flare, where another Orc wasted no time in scooping her away. As that haughty elf so daringly walked up to this Outpost he knew nothing about and made such proclamations, he and his companions would quickly realize that they weren't as careful as they thought they were. The traps were dealt with, but they were obvious. As the elves waited for a response though, figures emerged from the trees all around them calmly. Orcs, a bit leaner and darker skinned than most, it was clear they were specially picked for scouting purposes. Faces mixed with intrigue and predation, they stepped out of the brush from all angles, simply standing there in a circle around from which the elves came... and where they would have to run if they needed. They didn't have much time to react to this though, before the one they /thought/ they wanted, shoved the gate open. There, standing a good foot taller than even the next biggest Orc, was Tarryn... Tarryn Firebrand. She went by many synonyms, but they all led to the same description. Anyone east of here would have heard that name and a chill would run down their spine, but as they traveled west.. she found more and more arrogant woodlings. Here now, where she wasn't even expecting any, stood these foolish elves. "Wut is dis?..." She said in exasperation, showing no hesitation in walking towards the 'diplomatic' party, signalling that she had absolutely no fear of these elves. She heard the words, but she was far more intelligent than the average Orc. She stared down at them inquisitively, wanting to gauge information from them. "Ayathhil... Never hurd ovvit." She scoffed, now standing about ten feet away from 'Fenalis'. And towering over him even still from this distance.

Scowled  was built for many things. Running, swimming, alchemy, archery, healing, the list goes on. But this, whatever this situation is shaping up to be, is absolutely not within that list. As the Orcs hidden within the brush emerge the group of five accompanying him inch closer inward toward their leader while sporting expressions ranging from unnerved to full-blown panic minus the hysterics. The depth that they're in over their heads is clear now, as he's never heard of orcs being this tactile with their defense. Usually the entire lot of them were strong as steel but dumb as rocks stone and this gave them a fair amount of weakness for more physically frail species to exploit, which was exactly how Fenalis had planned on handling this. Guess he's gotta scrap that plan though. Despite his charge's panic the druid remained as outwardly calm as possible, fighting his instinct's urge to buckle and beg for them to allow his party to leave. "I..wouldn't expect you to have heard of it considering you came from beyond the mountains, correct?" Their changling allies had been tracking the Orc's movements for some time now, taking the form of animals to do so. In truth this is the first the people of Ayathhil were getting a look at the outsiders. "We're settled in woods not too far south of here. I'm going to make this a simple as possible, as I would hate to bother you any more than we have.." His voice is firm but the nerves laced in his tone aren't too hard to pick up on, his cold blue irises set firmly upon the unnamed chief's. "You've settled on our territory, on some of our sacred land. I'm here to offer you some sort of trade to get you off of it. Gold, materials, supplies.." Fenalis takes a moment to clear his throat, muttering the next 'item' just loud enough to be heard. "..breeders. Just name your price and we'll be out of your hair and hopefully you'll be out of ours as well." In truth he hates to wager their women for land but this specific patch of land *is* important to them. Deep beneath the tents are tunnels, once inhabited by deep elves who had since died out. The ore littering the walls hold special properties and are crucial for the way his people craft enchanted items and potions, the most valuable thing they trade. Even if the orcs never find the tunnels losing access to the land would devastate their economy.