Bind you and take you with them

You relinquish your grip on the knife, letting it fall to the floor. The elf behind you, a particularly tall, wiry and unpleasant specimen of his kind, immediately frisks you for anything else that could be dangerous - including your other knife. Damn, you'd been hoping he'd miss that. Maybe you were overoptimistic; elves are meticulous bastards and you know it.

The rest of the hunting party begins to emerge from the edges of the clearing. Two of them jog over to check on the elf who was about to meet a violent end; he appears to have passed out from shock. Two more push you roughly to the floor while another sits on you and ties your wrists behind your back, though leaving your ankles free. The tall one who apprehended you just stands there, barking orders at everyone else in the unmistakable half-poetic, half-guttural elvish tongue.

What creeps you out most is how similar they all look. Sure, all orcs are green and most are burly, but at least they have different faces and battle scars. This warband looks like identical sextuplets - it's hard even to tell the men and women apart amid the sea of milky white skin, though you eventually decide that there are three of each. The **** one looks a bit different, but the other six are dead ringers.

"On your feet," says one of the elves at last - she appears to be the only one who speaks your language. "You're trespassing in Sovereignty woods. You're coming with us. Stay quiet and maybe we'll let you live." One of the others hoists the **** one onto his shoulder. Looks like they're ready to make a move. Which means you are too.