...A Friendly Word

Sorac smirked slightly "Maybe if you had an actual house here, I wouldn't have moved in. And yes, I am."

The orc's cracked lips turned up into what would have been a broad smile, except the expressions on his face stayed as still as stone. His eyebrows lowered just a bit, fat and bushy and wrinkling around the corners of his grey-green eyes. He bared his hideously jagged, maw of teeth. Apparently, Sorac's glibness did not amuse him.

"We leave no scars on the land we live from, so we have no claim to it." He snorted sharply to himself. "I am tired of mixing words with you, Crown Prince." His voice was low and gravelly now. "You can keep your little cities and your trade routes. Pay us a tax for a part of what we lose by letting you stay here - five percent of all the food that goes out and ten cords of good firewood, each month. In trade, we keep all of our warriors a mile away from your routes and bother you no more. These are our terms."

For Orc terms, they seemed fairly reasonable. The Boss shrugged and gestured in such a way to indicate that Sorac could accept them or not, and it would make him little difference. He seemed to have nothing else to explain.

Sorac looked to Sartos who had been standing behind him the whole time "Sartos, all the materials produced here stay here as of yet, so as the governor this is your choice." Sorac would have chosen to say no to these terms but it was Sartos' call.

Sartos immediately nodded "I think we can accept that, that won't put a strain on our production" He hated war, he didn't want to see one break out.

Sorac said, disappointed slightly, and turned to the Orc "I guess we're accepting those terms."

The Boss nodded. Deep deep down, he was almost a little disappointed that the humans didn't choose to fight.

"Good," he said simply. "Your month starts now, then." He glanced up at the sky, judging the sun for a moment. "Good hunting, Crown Prince."

"I suppose I'll be seeing you in a month then." Sorac said with a forced smile "I better get to work helping the people hear reorganize."

With a nod as formal and cordial as the Orsien could muster, he turned and mounted his orakhuun. He signaled to his warriors who began to form up. He dug a steady kick into his beast's side and turned, heading back up the path to reorganize with his troops. They appeared to be ready and willing to move out with no further altercations.