Rice field

Latest update: February 2019

First snippet

The room was mostly empty. A wooden table and chair, prisoner tightly bound in the chair, curtains closed with a sliver of sunlight peeking through. The red skinned orc, elaborately engraved and painted tusks gleaming in the sunlight, seemed to be waiting patiently.

Time passed. Still, the orc did not show any signs of impatience. The light from outside was turning into the gold colour before sunset.

Gold replaced by pale white, darkness turning into dawn. The only sound in the room the slowed down breath of its occupant.

Another day came and went. Suddenly the orc opened its eyes and turned its head expectantly towards the entrance.

From the entrance came a curse fit to make a corsair blush. If said corsair understood orcish, that is. The elf considered for about a minute, took another close look at the tusks and left. The orc moved its head and eyes to their former positions and waited again.

Once he removed himself from the building, the elf resumed cursing. He entered the adjacent house, into a rather better furnished hall.


Only to be answered by blank looks. "We did send for an expert of orcs, didn't we?" the lady in front answered to his exasperated curse, the others of those assembled started whispered, not so quietly,

"Did someone mistakenly ask for a herpetologist instead?"

"If so, we didn't need one to recognise snakes,"

"Might as well ask what kind,"

"Oh, can't miss that distinct green and yellow colouring: they're Opheodrys. My daughter keeps them,"

"Your daughter keeps snakes? Right next door to my house? What if they bite?"

"Don't worry, they're not venomous,"

"What do they eat?"


"So that's where they're coming from, could you ask her to keep a better eye on her pet's food? My house is infested,"

"As I was saying," the leader cut into the rabble behind her. The elf interrupted, "engraved tusks, painted no less, indicate a high status." The councilmen in the hall quieted down to listen.

"And the serpents?"

"Ah, serpents," the elf considered a while, "the last orc to have them was Gors the Tusk-less,"


"They got pulled to sell as a good luck charm after it painted them,"

"That this orc dares do so, and, more importantly, got away with it, indicates a someone of not inconsiderable power."

"Doesn't sound so powerful, getting the tusks pulled and sold,"

"Let's throw it out of the city and let its kind deal with it,"

"There still is a smoking hole where the clan leader, who had the act done, used to be. The fact that our guest still has hers indicates she's more capable than Gors was."

"I withdraw my suggestion."

"So we treat this orc as a guest?"

"That would be better, yes."