This a joint post between Bronze and Dorym

The chamber was aglow with faerie fire. Nazmyr sat comfortably in the lavish sitting area. Expensive cushions and couches filled the space. Drapes of fine silk embroidered with precious metal threads hung from the windows. Rich tables and other furnishings carved from smooth ebony wood appointed the room. An Isfahan rug woven of threads dyed in blue, red and ivory adorned the floor. Several crafted wicker baskets containing rice were being used as tables throughout the space.

Ossuru, who was being harassed by Shelsa, quick stepped into the room. Nazmyr quietly closed his book and said nothing as he observed the curiosity of Ossuru dancing around Shelsa, as Shelsa continued to bat at Ossuru’s ankles. It suddenly occurred to Nazmyr that this was the first time he recalled seeing Ossuru smile.

Nazmyr loudly cleared his throat to get their attention.

Ossuru stopped immediately and stood at attention. Shelsa jaunted to an unoccupied cushion next to Nazmyr and sat down.

“Did you want something?” Nazmyr asked dryly.

“Apologies for the interruption My Lord. Your brother Ishtoshen requests the honor of your presence at the church.”

“Did he say what this is in regards to?”

“I asked My Lord. His reply was ‘Just tell him I need to speak to him.’

Nazmyr nodded in acknowledgment “Thank you Ossuru. You may go.”

Ossuru bowed and excused herself.

Nazmyr turned to Shelsa “So, is that what you two do when I’m not around? Play tag?”

“It’s even better when she turns into a snake! Have you ever seen her turn into a snake?! She’s fast!” Shlesa replied eyes full of excitement.

Nazmyr smiled in spite of himself. “Come. Let us visit Nanill and Ishtoshen. I hope he doesn’t expect me to be a guest judge at the next Naked Trout tournament.”

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Nazmyr and Shelsa left the city and entered the swamp under the cover of nightfall. The full moon shone brightly in the sky basking the swamp in its soft glow. The weather was hot and humid. All manner of insects and reptiles chirped and croaked. It seemed as if they too were protesting the heat. It wasn’t long before they found themselves in the church courtyard. There were large flowering plants and green leafy frond bushes.  

Shelsa had a feeling they were being followed. Nazmyr reassured her that they were.

“Nanill’s pets, swamplight lynxes. Their eyes have been upon us for some time. They are wise to be obedient to my brother’s wishes. They would make fine coats.”

The moon’s soft illumination reflected in fountains and glimmered off gold statues. Shelsa approached one the metal sculptures. It looked humanoid. It’s face frozen in a scream. “Where does Nanill get these? They must be very expensive.”

“I’m not sure.” Nazmyr answered. “Every so often a new one appears.”

Nazmyr and Shelsa made their way to the main entrance of the church where two bronze dragon men who looked more like stone than flesh stood guard. They immediately snapped to attention and made way for them. Nazmyr led the way into the church receiving room where they were greeted by an acolyte.

“Blessings upon you my lord. How may I be of service?”

“Inform my brothers that I have arrived.”

“With all due haste my lord.” Replied the acolyte.

As they waited Nazmyr pointed out several statues that had been defaced, their heads broken off and each missing a hand. The remaining hand had been painted with the ‘Eye of Vecna’ holy symbol of the church’s patron deity.

“This was once a church of Mystra. It took only the eight of us to overrun the human village that used it. Nanill took the church and desecrated the tributes of its original patron. Apparently Vecna was so pleased he used his magic to move the entire structure to this location.”  

“Vecna’s reward was to move the church into a remote swamp?”

“Hmm. I never gave it much thought. He is the patron of secrets, I guess he figured no one would come here looking for it.”

A moment later Obarra entered the receiving room.

“Nazmyr! It is good to see you!” she said in a welcoming tone.

She went to embrace him and then awkwardly stopped when she saw that Nazmyr did not reciprocate the warm greeting.

Nazmyr did nothing ease the tension.

“Obarra.” Nazmyr said with a curt nod of his head.

Obarra regained her composure and stiffened. “Follow me.”

They passed into a corridor leading to a private area of the church. Once in the foyer, they walked toward two heavy wooden doors with a tapestry above depicting Vecna laying waste to a city with fell sorcery. Obarra pushed on the doors and entered what had been several individual rooms now remodeled into a living suite. There was a large sitting area where a hearth burned constantly drawing the dampness from the air. Nazmyr found the décor to be more primitive than he preferred but at least it appeared clean.

“This is a bedroom Obarra. Why am I here? Where are Nanill and Ishtoshen?”

“Please. Sit.” Obarra said offering a chair to Nazmyr and moved to a chair of her own and sat down. “Ishtoshen is in Nanill’s office getting yelled at. Nanill blames Ishtoshen for allowing members of the tribe to run naked through the church.”

Nazmyr shook his head in disbelief.

“I will be honest with you. I asked Ishtoshen to invite you here because I did not think you would come here if I had asked.”

Nazmyr gave the room a quick visual scan. “Obarra… why am I here?”

Obarra could see the concern on Nazmyr’s face. “There is no deception here Nazmyr. I only wish to talk.” Her tone was even and honest.

“Talk of what?” said Nazmyr has he slowly shifted his location to a more strategic location in the room.

“Gratnak Mughrbog the great chieftain is holding a moot.” she said with some reverence in her voice. “I would that you accompany myself and Ishtoshen.”

“So why is it that Ishtoshen cannot ask himself?”

“It is not his place. I require your help so I should ask it. Ishtoshen goes because he loves me. But he does not understand the importance of the moot. You are more calculating, thoughtful…I know you will have questions that he will be unable to answer.”

Nazmyr began to feel a little more comfortable and sat down in a chair of his choosing.

“If that is the case, why would I help you?”

“Because you are Ishtoshen’s brother and he…”

“Ishtoshen does not need my help Obarra as you have plainly stated. You do.” Nazmyr interrupted. “ I do not look upon you and see what Ishtoshen sees. You have won my brother’s heart and that is the only reason I tolerate you. And it is because of that tolerance, which is wearing thin by the way, that we are having this conversation. So tell me Obarra, why would I help you?”

Obarra always knew Nazmyr to be the charming one but his icy demeanor unnerved her. This was a side of him she did not want experience first hand yet should could not help but smile. It was for this reason she wanted his help in the first place. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Very well.”

“There is a tribe of orcs we call orogs, you might also know them as uruk-hai. They are master craftsmen, the best my people have to offer. Their skills at forging arms and armor equal if not exceed that of dwarves.”

“How does this benefit me?”

“The tribe is relatively isolated and they are poor negotiators. I have no doubts that there is a great opportunity for you. “

The room was uncomfortably silent as Nazmyr considered Obarra’s words.

“Well done Obarra!” Nazmyr’s sudden outburst startled Obarra. “You have managed to pique my interest. However before I commit I have questions.”

“As I knew you would.” She replied. Gaining Nazmyr’s interest was no small feat and Obarra smiled to herself reveling in her small victory. She knew, however, that getting him to commit was another difficult challenge she must overcome. She anticipated this moment and was well prepared.  

Nazmyr leaned back in his and looked at Obarra, “Tell me. Why is this moot so important?”

She began. “The call to warchiefs is only made during the most dire of times when the nation is at peril. Orcs do not get along well and only come together to fight a common enemy when there is great danger to us all.”

“I see.’ Nazmyr said thoughtfully. “So what is this great danger? Why is the moot being held?”

Obarra offered, “You are aware of the demonic incursions due to the planar breech caused by one of your wizards who foolishly summoned Demogorgon yes?”

Nazmyr nodded not knowing whether he should be offended by Obarra’s ‘your wizards’ comment.

“The sudden influx of demons has caused great trouble for our people. Cities are fortifying, caravans travel less, towns have increased their militias and patrols. It is becoming difficult to find raid targets and casualties from those that are attacked run high. The nation fears very little. Famine however is always a concern. Orcs tend to be poor farmers. We raid and take what we need. Now those resources thin and our people may starve. The demons present not only a physical danger but a danger to our way of life and survival. The Great War Chief is summoning the most prominent of our leaders to plan a response.”

Nazmyr nodded. “Where is the moot being held?”

“The legendary orc city stronghold of Oenkmar. Only the most skilled and well travelled beings outside our race have seen it and lived. Most orcs only dream of going there. If the orc nation has a capital, that is it. The moot is held at a sacred area well hidden within the city. Only the most powerful and respected chieftains know its location.”

“Hmmm.’ Nazmyr uttered thoughtfully. “What can you tell me of this place?”

“It is the stuff of rumor and legend. Oenkmar was once known as the elvish city of Nyftha E’rantaesi… surface elf city.” she added dryly. “The tale goes that a grand horde of orcs led by the most ruthless Orc Chieftan of the time invaded the city and overran it. They killed most of the weak soft skins and made slaves of survivors. Some few were able to flee like cowards, forced back amongst the trees. Orcs have controlled the city ever since, the crown jewel of our empire. Those allowed to travel to Oenkmar often trade and move goods to and from the city, though orc commerce is inefficient at best. No one trusts caravans entering not to be raided or stolen and the few outsiders that know of the city are right to be wary of random attack for perceived insult. Other than that.. it’s really no different than any other major city.” She smirked.

“Right…” Nazmyr said with a hint of sarcasm. “All this is very interesting but it doesn’t explain why you need me to accompany you there?”

“Each Warchief deemed worthy to be heard is allowed to be accompanied by a war band of 12, consisting of the tribe’s fiercest and most trusted warriors. Mine is a violent people…if entire tribes, clans or hordes descended on the city there is no doubt civil war would break out. So the Great Chieftain allows each warchief an entourage of only 12 to represent their tribes. Warriors are selected to offer protection to each warchief and are seen as displays of their power. Only the greatest warriors from each tribe are chosen and it is considered a great honor as most orcs never see the city. Oenkmar is often thought of as the stuff of legends and child’s tales.”

Nazmyr paused and considered her words carefully. “Tell me of the great chieftain Gratnak Muggerbooger?”

“Gratnak Mughrbog is a legendary orc warrior and shaman. His ancestor led the raid on the elf city that would become Oenkmar. He is the next of his line to rule. All recognize his greatness and only the foolish would dare challenge him in combat. None he has faced have survived. All defeated have been eaten. He counts devils among his allies and his personal guard is comprised of Tanarukk. Half orc, half infernal beings of immense power.”

He eats those he defeats?” Nazmyr said with some disgust

Obarra tilted her head and nodded while raising her shoulders.

Nazmyr shook his head…“What can you tell me of his tribe?”

“The Great Chieftain has a standing army of 10,000 warriors and that doesn’t include those who live and work in the city. His horde is amongst the largest and most feared. Where they go none live. They are brutal even by our people. His horde is comprised of lesseer tribes from all the known orc races including the coveted uruk-hai and extremely rare Tanarukk”

Nazmyr was taking in everything Obarra said. “What can you tell me of the other attending tribes and their chieftains?”

Oronarz Gluum leads the The Hell Wolves. He is a Tanaruuk as are his clan. They are smaller yet incredibly fierce, They are skilled worg riders. I count them among my allies.

Ugdbumol Khazar leads the The Dead Boulder Horde comprised of White orcs from the snowy mountains up north. Reclusive, they are bestial even by orc standards and will prey on orc and non orc alike. All are fair game. The Great warchief would be foolish not to at least try to add their strength to his cause.

Burzfish Grubek leads the The Rabid Fury Tribe, beserkers. They are quite barbaric and quite mad. Neither friend nor foe,  I wouldn’t be so foolish as to expect they would abide by the banner of peace. Simple minded, they are best pointed at an enemy and let loose.

Narrash Mulmgog leads the The Black Mouth Tribe. Known for the tar like elixir they drink coloring their mouth and tongue black with ink, many of the most powerful shamans hail from that tribe.

Lorar Gluklump is warchief of The Smelly Foot Warriors. They are at odds with most the other tribes but have a strong enmity with the Vicious fish clan who blame them for fouling the river where they fish by washing their feet in it and poisoning most of the species. They are a large warband and as such were invited.

Ogolthmuk Orbuok leads The Blue Ghost Horde. They dwell deep within the underground caverns of the Underdark. They despise your people and constantly war with them. We’ll find no allies amongst them.

Durbron Yarbag is warchief of The Ancient Sand Clan. They arrive from the Calim desert from far to the south. I’m not sure if you are familiar with the region…” Obarra swore she saw Nazmyr grin but continued without pause. “…It is quite inhospitable and the brown orcs making up the clan are a hardy lot.  

Nagrklak Atumba is the chieftain of The Vicious Fish Clan, They are a fishing community of river orcs living off the waters running through their lands and raiding those who trespass seeking fresh water and food. They despise the Smelly Foot Warriors for washing their repugnant feet in their streams contaminating the water. On a side note their Chieftain is the reigning Naked Trout Champion of the nation.

Snagzum Aguash leads The Broken Skull Horde hail from the Dalelands. They are constantly at war with elves, dwarves and humans. They hate everyone not of orc blood or bond. You will have nothing to fear from them as a member of my warband.

Ughaat Traar is warchief of The Grim Rage Horde. He is a black orc, a rare subrace born from fel magic and incredibly powerful. There is little more I can tell you about them.

Kroagdush Traigul is chieftain of The Crimson Ash Warriors. They live in an active volcano and are said to have an alliance with a red dragon. They have a rivalry with the Hell Wolves and a dislike of the ‘soft’ living Vicious Fish Clan.  

“and…. the last is known only as Fred. He is the one most other tribes fear most. He is Warchief of The Dark Spider Tribe from the Jungles of Chult. He is an orc sorcerer. Rare indeed.”

Nazmyr listened intently taking mental notes.

“Mudbooger, Burntfish, Black Mouth, Smelly Foot…Theirs is a race born for subjugation.” He thought to himself. “So why were these tribes chosen to attend the moot?”

“The most capable and respected chieftains have been invited.” She said with some pride. “Tribes loyal to the nation and proven worthy through battle and raid success are summoned. We warchiefs advise the Great Chieftain when he seeks a unified horde to fight a great enemy. As I said, most tribes gladly fight each other, only the fear and respect of the warchiefs can keep the horde united and prevent bloodshed amongst the ranks….for a time at least.”

The room grew uncomfortably silent again as Nazmyr mentally processed the information Obarra just gave him.

“If I am to partake in this ‘moot’, I want to learn orcish social customs, etiquette, and laws.”

“Obarra smiled, her fangs fully exposed. “I have a sister that could offer you a more…personal insight into our culture.

Nazmyr grimaced as if he had just sucked fresh lemon from Quevas’ bakery.

“Or… perhaps you’d be more comfortable spending time with Berk and Ferk.”

Nazmyr arrogantly smirked “No my dear, I would have the chieftain herself teach me the ways of her people. Only then shall we have an accord.”

Obarra rose from her her seat towering over Nazmyr.  “Agreed.” She said without hesitation.

As Nazmyr stood up  Obarra inhaled deep, spat into her hand, and thrust it out towards him.

Nazmyr looked at her thoroughly repulsed.

Now is was Obarra’s turn to smile. “Lesson one: We seal the deal.”