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An Orc for Dinner. A small excerpt from an old work. Pictures included!

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Xarnac The Conqueror's picture
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Joined: 05/10/2012

                             

 Ilero's portrait, circa 4th Century, Third Era.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Orc for Dinner

By Odanu Khodin

 

 

Introduction

 

  Ilero, being from the turn of the Era, had many trinkets of antiquity. "Of the smallest, one could fund a month long gala." Many of which were "donated" back to the Empire for various titles and estates. The Baron is self-styled: Defender of Colovia, Grand Knight of the Hour, Prefect of Skingrad, Champion of Hunts, His Highborn: The Baron Ilero. This is admittedly an abbreviated title from whence the Baron would have preferred.

The Vampyr Baron Ilero: A Biography

 

 

 

  A warm dagger, bereaved of the misanthrope, slowly descending my gulle-," the Baron was interrupted mid thought by his inquisitive dinner date. The young Imperial smirked, "Are we agreeable?"

  She nodded, as they ascended the spiral stair case to the great room. Along the unending halls of high kings long past, covered in the dust of an inept steward. Ilero didn't need to look up. The Dunmeri heads down, the Altmer's nose high, someone spilled a toast. This was the mundane existence Ilero was accustom to. Whispers assuming the unpresentable, such follies of the nobility and gossips at the time. His date, delirious from gawking eyes by the time they had entered the grand ballroom, left to "powder her nose."

  The Baron observed the room and recognized most of the faces attending the gala. The title of the greedy and gluttonous among the banquet hall could have been interchanged without much sway in the populous. The Earl of West Weald? The Marquees De' Colovia? All the same, all the same after three centuries of barbarous, Cyrodilic upheaval. When one dies another takes his stead, all vices are trivial to mine, I cou-," the heiress returned and nestled uncomfortably under the Vampire Baron's arm.

  By this time the room had erupted into a mirthful acknowledgment of their generous host. Ilero bowed ever so slightly as an old confidant migrated through the crowd.

"Dunkan old boy!"

  The Dunmer didn't seem to register the Barons quip, "Dunkan I'doho," Ilero belted.

  Dunkan was unusually sizable for a Chimer vampire and as the day is long, the seasons shown on his brow. His long white hair flowed through mithril armor in silken braids that ended at the pauldrons. Dark maroon ceremonial armor was accustom at the time, though Dunkan wore a purple that rivaled the moonless night. A fine opal cape, presumably an Ashlander relic, lightly embraced the marbled floor as the Dark Elf approached the couple.

  "Behaving oneself, his Highborn," gestured the Dunmer.

  Dunkan leaned in and kissed the maiden's hand, "And you must be Her Serenity, Countess Urz gra-Galag?" The countess, too preoccupied with her surroundings, didnt notice the gesture. Everyone was apparently deaf that night, most attribute it to the band.

  I'doho inquired again, "You don't mind if I 'kidnap' the young Baron for a moment do you?"

  Surely this was a jest to warn the Baron that the ramification of his actions were not going unnoticed. Although His Highborn's true intentions were oblivious to the mortal and Dunkan, he had inadvertently upset the status quo.

  "You can't take me away from my guests," Ilero spoke unusually loud. "I shan't retire prematurity Dunkan, goodbye Dunkan."

  The Elf's refute was drowned out by the jovial crowd, as the couple were on the move, heading steadfast towards the punchbowl. The Baron, as well as the whole room could sense the Countess in dire need of a strong spirit. The Heiress drank while Ilero ruminated in provocative contemplation...

  'Orc nobility has a pension for hiring the ugliest Cyrodilic servants and hand maidens for their daughters, fortunately Orcs know nothing of Imperial attractiveness.'

  In all of the wanton nobles daydreaming he hadn't notices his new company, a brutish, barrel chested Primate.

  A scent most foul, a strong musk of old mead and various roasted meats encircled the Baron's nostrils. Ilero muttered through shuttered eyes pretending to hold his breath, "With what humble grace do I owe this pleasure, Lord...?"

  "Are You with Her?!?" sputtered the obviously inebriated Orsimer.
  "Baron Ilero, my goo-..."
  "That's -hiccup- not what I asked... little man,"
  "Then you present the wrong questions my good sir," sprung from Ilero's mouth.
  "The Countess is with me, I am her escort; Defender of Colovia, Grand Knight of the Hour, Prefect of Sking-..."

  The Primate almost tipped asunder before bolstering an interrupting rebuke, "I say that you -hiccup- you're trying to rub it in the faces -hiccup- faces of Orcs, what purpose do you have with Her Serenity? -hiccup-," The Orc lurched over the Baron, "Lets settle this -hiccup- out in the -hiccup- gardens."

  With every swill the Orc became more intoxicated.

  "You Imperials, think you can come in and -hiccup- take anything, by Gortwog gro-Nagorm I'll..."

  The Baron had had enough of this drunkard party-crasher, Gortwog was and had been a dear friend after all. Ilero's hand jutted into the sky, time stood still for a moment, a subconscious flash, a single spark extended through the Baron's fingers into the Orc. The room settled as the Orc's mouth began to move.

  "......," the Orsimer looked down, ".......," ".......,"

  The Orc couldn't speak, rendered silent from the master Illusionist himself.

  The Orsimer became red in the face, a shade previously on display by the heiress throughout the night and fell to the ground. Ilero shared a momentary glance with Dunkan and reversed the spell. "Witchcraft," the terrified Orc screamed as he scurried across the floor, leaping from the lower balcony, knocking over two bystanders and an expensive chair given to Ilero by Uriel Septim I.

  "Well then. Shall we retire?"

  The Countess smiled for what seemed like the first time all night. The Baron joined in on one last salute before calling for the carriage. Leaving on the curtails of the same whispers he had entered, the Baron helped the damsel into the buggy.

  "Have you...," The Countess stopped and raised her voice an octave higher to emulate that of an Imperial soprano, "much experience with the arcane?"

  The most intriguing question of the evening. The Baron leaned in for an apparent kiss as the carriage took off, "So, tell me of your servants!?"

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Joined: 11/08/2012

Duncan Idaho pops up in the most unlikely places.  It's probably the Tleilaxu influence.

Xarnac The Conqueror's picture
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You're probably the only one that has ever gotten the Duncan/Dune reference.

Bull of Kyne's picture
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Joined: 04/04/2015

Very cleverly written Xarnac :)

Xarnac The Conqueror's picture
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Thanks. Noticed I put a your instead of a you're. Time to edit.